A Perfect Hero (11 page)

But she was certainly feeling rather proud of herself.

Dane looked on as she dropped onto the side of the bed. “Tired?” he asked.

“A little,” she admitted.

“I’m sorry. I’ve given you a merry chase today, haven’t I?”

There was no disputing that her charge was a trying patient. He fretted, grumbled, stewed, and complained about his inactivity—and the fact that she wouldn’t allow him up. Yet it flitted through her mind that not once today had she thought of London. Not once had she wished to be elsewhere. Granted, there hadn’t been time! Still, she enjoyed being busy. And—she had liked being needed.

Even if it was by an outlaw!

She shrugged, tugging one foot onto her knee and pulling off her slipper. Oh, but her feet did ache! She was quite certain she hadn’t sat down even once throughout the day.

Dane adjusted his arm on the pillow. “My dear Julianna, if it eases your mind, removing your stockings will hardly send me into fits of lust.”

Julianna frowned at him. His habit of discern
ing her thoughts was rather vexing, his sugges
tion quite improper. Yet what about their ac
quaintance had been proper anyway?

Tugging off her slippers, she rubbed her feet, blew out the candles, and slipped beneath the sheet.

They lay together, shoulder to shoulder. The only sound was the crackle and hiss of the fire.

It was Dane who broke the silence. “I suppose this is quite a change from your life of leisure. You do lead a life of leisure, I take it?”

“Yes, but I am not a laggard.”

His eyes flickered. “I didn’t mean to imply that you were.” He paused. “What would you be do
ing if you weren’t here?”

She considered. “Well,” she said thoughtfully, “if I were at my home in Bath, I would probably be out for an evening walk in the countryside. If I were in London, I would likely be dancing at a ball—” there was no mistaking the smile beneath the words “—I suppose in either case, my feet would surely be aching anyway.”

He laughed. “Thank you. That eases my mind considerably.” Silence drifted between them, yet it was an oddly intimate silence.

“Julianna?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you stay, Miss Julianna Clare?” He stopped. Something flickered across his face. “I didn’t think you would.”

Miss Julianna Clare
. Guilt lodged in her breast. Her smile froze. A faint distress crept into her eyes, for she’d forgotten that particular un
truth. “Why are you asking me this?”

“I should think it would be obvious. Because I wish to know.” He turned to the side, leaning on his good shoulder.

“Dane!” she protested. “You shouldn’t—”

“I want to see you when you answer.” Heed
less of the fire that burned in his shoulder, he snared her chin. A thumb beneath her jaw, he brought her gaze to his.

“Why did you stay?” Quietly, he posed the question once more. “You didn’t have to. You could have left me.”

Sudden, startling tears brimmed in her eyes. “No,” she stated haltingly. “I couldn’t. I looked back, and I saw you, the way you looked at me...and I couldn’t leave you like that. I just couldn’t! And—I’m so sorry I shot you. You can
not know how sorry I am!”

He nearly groaned. “You’re a tenderhearted soul, aren’t you, kitten?”

She shook her head. “Dane, I—”

A finger slid along the line of her jaw. “Hush,” he commanded. “
Hush
.”

Their eyes collided.

The words she’d been about to utter evaporated.

He didn’t plan it, though God knew he’d imag
ined it. It simply ...happened. Dane didn’t
know why—he didn’t care. His gaze lowered slowly on her lips. Leaning over, he saw the way her eyes widened—a flash of realization—as she discerned his intent.

His mouth closed slowly over hers.

She didn’t stop him.

No, she didn’t stop him—and the earth could have been splintering to pieces all around them— and Dane wouldn’t have cared. Nothing could have stopped
him
from kissing her. Her lashes fluttered shut. Her lips parted beneath his. The scent of lemon that clung to her skin teased his nostrils ...The whisper of a sigh echoed in his mouth.

He took his time, acquainting himself with the essence of her mouth. Tasting her, the way the center of her lower lip pouted out ever so slightly, there where the color bloomed to a ripe shade of pink ...the heat of her breath mingling with his, the way her breathing quickened.

The ache in his shoulder was forgotten. She was so slight and delicate, he was half-afraid to lean over her, afraid she could not bear his weight.

A shudder ran through him. He wanted her. Closer. Close as a man and woman could be. He wanted to stretch out beside her, pull her clothes off, and chart every sweet, creamy inch of her, then drive deep inside her and satisfy the ache in his gut. He could feel the muslin covering her
breasts scratching against his chest. A part of him wanted to tear it away—she persisted in wearing her gown to bed, dammit! But the rational part of him prevailed. This was not a time for lust. In
deed, he’d promised her. She was untried. Untested. He knew it instinctively, and he didn’t want to frighten her.

When at last he raised his head, his heart was drumming. Julianna’s eyes climbed slowly to his, searching his face, her breath coming in little pants that drove him half-wild. Within the depths of her eyes he glimpsed a soft confusion, the same shattering tumult he was feeling.

Her lips parted.

A finger pressed to the center of her lips, Dane shook his head. He didn’t understand it, but he wanted nothing to ruin the spell of this moment.

He managed a glimmer of a smile. “Don’t, kit
ten. Not a word. Just . . . just go to sleep.”

With a fingertip he brushed her eyes closed.

And sleep she did, clear through till morn.

or the second day in a row, Julianna arose before Dane. He woke late, but his condi
tion was much improved over the day before, enough that he rose and walked about the cot
tage. But she knew he was frustrated with being limited to the use of one arm. At her suggestion, they fashioned a sling for his arm, and he seemed pleased with it.

Neither of them spoke of what had transpired the night before.

Julianna was heartily glad. Indeed, she was still having trouble believing it. She went hot all over whenever she thought of it—and she could not
stop
thinking of it!

Why had he kissed her?

Moreover, why had she
let
him?

She had no answer. She knew only that Dane was a man who drew her gaze again and again, and there was no help for it.

Why? her mind screamed.

It was sheer madness. After Thomas’s betrayal, she had retreated for months. She despised scan
dal as much as Sebastian. When she’d finally emerged, the gentlemen of the
ton
had tried to rally her attentions. She had firmly rebuffed any attempts to court her. Deep in her heart, she had told herself she would never again allow herself to be hurt the way Thomas had hurt her. That way she wouldn’t miss what she would never have.

And so she had schooled herself well. She hadn’t allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to lie naked with a man, to feel his mouth running over her skin, his touch burning into her body. Her breasts. Her belly. Even there between her thighs . . .

But last night she had. In the wee hours before dawn, she had dreamed. She had seen herself ly
ing nude with Dane. Beneath him. And he had been naked, too. Gloriously naked . . .

It was a dream that was wild. Torrid. So vividly erotic she had quite shocked herself. No wonder she had practically leaped out of bed this morning!

Why should this...this...this
rogue
affect her so?

He’d put on a shirt, for which she was eternally
grateful. But the material clung to the shape of him; the muscles of his shoulders were clearly vis
ible, curved and hard. The shirt was open at the throat, revealing a pie-shaped wedge of hair-matted skin that brought a surge of heat to her cheeks. Oh, yes, even with that impressive chest covered, it rendered her no less aware of him!

Her eyes followed him as he rose to poke at the fire. She couldn’t deny that his profile was in
triguingly arresting. She traced the bold slash of black brows, the blade of his nose—there was a slight bump she hadn’t noticed before—the squareness of his jaw. He needed to shave, she thought vaguely. His cheeks and chin were again shadowed with his beard. God rot it, his raw masculinity scrambled her senses and made her pulse skid wildly—she was appalled at herself for even thinking in such a way!

It did not help that she caught him staring at her more than once. Replacing the poker, he turned.

He was staring once more.

Julianna had had enough. “Why do you look at me like that?”

Something flickered across his features. “I was thinking I’ve seen you before.”

“I think not,” she said coolly.

He raised a brow. “And what if I said I think you’re wrong?”

She gave him a quelling look. “And where
might that have been? I daresay we do not travel in the same circles. Or have you robbed me before?”

His brow remained cocked high. “I’ve robbed you of nothing, kitten. Nothing but a kiss. And indeed, I think it was freely given.”

So much for her earlier relief. Julianna did not appreciate the reminder. “Must you mock me?” she asked stiffly.

The flash of humor disappeared. He was sud
denly intent. “I do not mock you, Julianna.” He studied her, his head tilted to one side. “Tell me,” he said suddenly. “Are you angry that I kissed you?”

All at once there was an unfamiliar dryness in her throat. A hot tide of color surged into her cheeks. She averted her eyes.

“That’s none of your affair.” Drat! Her tone wasn’t at all steady.

“Of course it’s my affair. If I am the perpetra
tor, don’t I deserve to know?”

Julianna had no wish to debate on either count.

She tried to step by him. He stopped her, lean fingers winding around the fragile span of her wrist, a gentle entrapment.

“Kitten? Won’t you tell me?”

Julianna avoided his gaze. She looked at the opening of his shirt. No salvation there. She could look no higher.

“Yes,” she said shakily. “I mean no.” She was
floundering, and there was no help for it. “Oh, I don’t know what I mean!”

“Well, that certainly clarifies the matter. Perhaps”—his eyes took on a gleam—“another kiss might help you decide.”

Julianna’s heart was beating high in her throat. He was tugging her inexorably closer.

“What the devil are you doing?” she heard her
self ask.

“It is but a kiss, kitten. Will you not grant a dy
ing man his last wish?”

Her eyes jerked up. “You are not dying!”

“I could,” he stated brashly. “Infection might set in. It’s been known to happen.”

Lord, he was right...But then she saw laugh
ter surface in his eyes.

She stiffened. “You are a womanizer, aren’t you?” she accused.

“Not true.” He defended himself staunchly.

“Isn’t it? There was a woman on the coach— her name was Mrs. Chadwick. She said that the Magpie ...that you...that you have a liking for the ladies.”

“Only
this
particular lady,” he countered.

Her heart lurched. His arm was curling around her waist now. Suddenly it was impossible to swallow, difficult even to breathe.

She placed her fingertips on his chest, mindful of his wound. “Dane—”

His gaze pinned hers. “Be still, kitten,” he whispered, “and let me kiss you.”

Those words should have brought the scene to a sizzling halt ...her hand to his cheek—and hard! Whatever objection she might have made dried up in her breast. In all honesty, she wasn’t sure she wanted to object. Everything inside her stood still as his mouth came down on hers. Locked fast against his chest, she let it happen...she
wanted
it to happen. And it was just like before, she decided fuzzily. No, it was better.

Sensation surrounded her. She could feel his strength, his sheer length against hers, the heat emanating from his body. His mouth on hers was meltingly sweet, sliding to the corner of hers.

“Open your mouth for me, kitten . . .” The plea was no less urgent for its softness. “Ah, God. Yes.
Yes
. Just like that.” He gave an odd lit
tle laugh. “You’re very responsive, aren’t you, kitten?”

Her lips parted. There was no thought of re
fusal. Of denial. Not even when he tasted her.
Tasted
her with his tongue, sliding along hers with no hesitation, the texture of his pleasurably rough, a slow, almost leisurely journey that explored the dark interior of her mouth. The contact sent a jolt through her, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t. She was—God help her—she was curious.

She had always left the sensual journeys to oth
ers. It certainly wasn’t something she could dis
cuss with her brothers! She had been brought up to be a lady, and the dictates of a lifetime were hard to abandon. Thomas had been the only man ever to kiss her, and that but a chaste brush on the lips. It was nothing like this wild, lingering contact that went on and on. There had been no secret adventures in the garden, no tentative ex
plorations in the dark. And, while she had won
dered what it might actually be like to
experience
such things, her wistful imaginings had always been rather vague and nebulous.

Except for that dream last night. That hot, wicked dream.

And now it was finally happening. To her.
To her
.

And God above, it was more than curiosity. There was nothing vague about her response ei
ther. A jolt of sheer pleasure shot through her. The muscles in her belly contracted. Tiny needles of excitement centered in her breasts. She wanted to feel Dane’s hands—his mouth, sweet Lord, his delightfully wicked
tongue
—curling around her nipples in the same way he explored the depths of her mouth, painting them wet and dark. It had been like that in her dream, she realized. ...She felt wanton. Wicked, but deliciously so. At seven-and-twenty, she was not a naïve young girl. She might be innocent, but regardless of her lack of firsthand knowledge, she was not ignorant.

She felt bereft when he finally released her mouth. Clutching at the front of his shirt, she blinked, her breathing shallow.

“Oh, my,” she heard herself say.

His laugh was husky. He sounded as short of breath as she. “My thoughts precisely.”

Julianna blushed fiercely.

“I won’t apologize.” He smiled crookedly. “You’re very lovely. But I expect you know that.”

Something within her cried out. Had Thomas ever told her that? she wondered with a pang. Had he ever made her feel the way that Dane did? The burning, all-consuming way she felt at the touch of Dane’s mouth hot upon hers blazed through her like wildfire.

“And now, kitten, my head is buzzing. I fear I had better sit down before I fall down.”

The next afternoon Dane sat on the bed. Cau
tiously he removed the sling. He flexed the left side of his torso, only to wince as a sharp twinge cut through his shoulder. It was damned stiff and sore, and he had to remind himself that only time would heal it.

Julianna had just entered the cottage, carrying a small bowl full of apples. On seeing his grimace, she stopped short and glared her displeasure. “What the devil do you think you’re doing?”

Dane smiled sheepishly. “What you think I shouldn’t, apparently.”

“Indeed.” She bent to retrieve an apple that had rolled onto the floor.

His smile widened. She wore the same muslin gown she’d worn yesterday. The material of her gown was rather thin, and with the sunlight pouring through the window as it was, it offered him a rather tantalizing view of her round little backside.

When she straightened he was trying to replace the sling—with little success. “Julianna? I seem to require a bit of assistance.”

Julianna set aside the basket and came to his aid. The material had become rather twisted, though, and it necessitated refolding it and ty
ing it again. The first attempt failed, and Ju
lianna bent forward to adjust the length of the sling, intent on the undertaking. She sighed in vexation.

Dane offered no complaints. In truth, he was rather enjoying himself. Seated as he was, it put his head at a level with her bosom. The bodice of her gown gaped. Dane stared straight into the valley between what appeared to be delectably round, firm breasts.

Oh, yes, he thought. This was better still . . .

“Ahem!”

Reluctantly, he lifted his gaze. Her eyes were snapping.