Notorious Rake, Innocent Lady

But Julia had proven last night that she was not most women and he’d do well to remember it. Most women didn’t invoke the depth of feeling that had accompanied his climax. He’d been tutored in the arts of the sexual sutras, learning the mastery of yin over yang in the arms of India’s exotic concubines. Most women didn’t have the ability to unman him as Julia had last night.

‘Seven o’clock!’ Julia sat upright, the sheet sliding to her waist in her agitation.

‘I know it’s early, but…’ Paine said boyishly, tempted to reach for her and put off breakfast a while longer.

She didn’t let him finish. ‘Early? How can you say that? It’s late. I never meant to stay this long! How could you have let me sleep the entire night away? I thought you understood.’

She was scolding him? She never meant to stay the whole night? She’d meant to slip away after their coupling? Wasn’t that his line? This was all backwards. He was supposed to be the one leaving in the dark of night. He never actually slept when he bedded a woman. He left as soon as he could. Paine stared at her in utter confusion.

‘Julia, whatever are you talking about?’

‘I have to leave. I have to get back to my aunt and uncle’s. With luck, they won’t have checked my room yet.’ She threw an accusing glare at him as if this was all somehow his fault. ‘I meant to be home by two o’clock, long before they came traipsing back.’ With luck, she’d even held hopes of returning to the ball before it was over. The Moffat rout had a reputation for running until dawn.

Her tone pricked Paine’s temper. He rose from the bed, hands on hips. ‘Dancing, deflowering and back by two. That was an ambitious agenda, Julia,’ he drawled.

‘It’s what had to be done and, now that it is done, I have to go and finish what I have put in motion. Ruination isn’t much good unless I go back and prove it.’ Julia gave a belated blush and reached for the sheet, making an effort to rise modestly from the bed with the sheet draped about her. ‘I will just dress and go, if you don’t mind.’

Her haughty tone didn’t sit well with Paine. He advanced towards her. ‘I find I do mind, Julia, quite a lot. This is my home and my chamber. I will not be dismissed from it like a common servant.’ With luck, she’d step backwards and run into the bed. Then he’d have her where he wanted her.

No such luck. Julia stood her ground, even though they stood only inches from each other. ‘You can’t stop me.’ She stared him down, giving no quarter with her challenge.

Paine’s eye caught the glimmer of aqua silk heaped in the corner. A wicked smile took his lips. He let his gaze linger on the heap long enough to draw Julia’s attention.

She instantly divined the plan that had spawned his devil’s smile. ‘No, you wouldn’t dare.’ She barely got the words out and the race for the dress was on.

It was not an easy race. Julia didn’t play fair.

Julia shrieked and shoved a chair in his path to slow him down. Paine shoved it aside and reached for her, laughing at her nerve. ‘Vixen!’

He succeeded only in grabbing a handful of sheeting as she spun out of the linen and darted to put a table between them.

She was fully naked and panting, her auburn tresses falling over the heaving globes of her breasts as she stared at him across the table top. Paine was gloriously aroused. ‘Temptress! Godiva!’

‘Call me what you like, but I’ve got you now!’ she crowed, her anger forgotten in the thrill of the race. Near-triumph coaxed a laugh from her throat as she gave over to the exhilaration of victory.

Paine saw the reason she gloated. The dress was on her side of the table. She simply had to make a dash for it and the gown would be hers. He feinted left, then right, keeping her attention while he made his decision. He would not stand a chance if he wasted a precious second going around the small table. He would have to go over it.

Paine lunged, coming over the table and taking Julia to the ground with him. She wriggled against him, struggling, tantalising with every movement.

‘That’s not fair!’ she protested, obviously wanting to be put out by his audacity, but not quite able to void the laughter from her voice.

‘You gloated too soon,’ Paine teased, enjoying the friction of her naïve movements against the fabric of his trousers where she lay beneath him. He inched forwards and grasped at the hem of the gown. ‘I win. I have the dress and I have you right where I want you, right where you belong.’ He ground his hips meaningfully against her pelvis, his member in an overt state of readiness that could not be overlooked.

Julia angled her head back to see her discarded gown clutched in Paine’s hand. She stretched to reach and take it from him. Paine pinned her gently with the power of his body. ‘Do you think I would relinquish your gown so soon after winning it?’ Paine tut-tutted.

‘Please, give it back to me.’ The earlier playfulness was replaced with a plea. He was alert to it at once.

‘All right.’ Paine sat up, straddling her between his thighs. He needed to be careful not to push Julia too far. Such games of love-play could easily be misconstrued as something more sinister. He didn’t want her frightened. That was never his intention.

‘You may pay a forfeit.’ He kept the tone light to remind her his intentions were not motivated by evil.

‘What?’ She was all wariness. She wanted to play the game, wanted to trust him, but knew better than to do so. Damn Mortimer Oswalt and her uncle for teaching her such cynicism already. It turned his insides to think of what a month of marriage, let alone a lifetime of marriage to Oswalt, would to do her.

Paine reached out a gentle hand to stroke her cheek. ‘The forfeit is simple. Have breakfast with me.’ He gestured to the tray waiting on the low bedside table. ‘I went to a lot of trouble to put it together. I went out for it.’

‘Just breakfast?’ Julia queried.

‘Just breakfast.’

‘I can go after breakfast?’

‘If that is what you wish,’ Paine answered solemnly. He meant it. He would keep his word, although he hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. This would be a breakfast Julia Prentiss would not soon forget.

Julia sat cross-legged on a pile of colorful pillows in the middle of the floor, securely garbed in a satin robe Paine had generously loaned her from his wardrobe. Paine lounged next to her, propped on an elbow, and dressed only in a pair of thin silk Indian-styled trousers, having forgone the wool trousers he’d worn out to find breakfast. He peeled a section of orange and offered it up to her, creating the effect that he was a loyal squire serving his queen. Having such a handsome man staring at her in overt adoration, serving her every need, was highly intoxicating.

It was also highly hazardous. She almost believed she was a queen when he stared at her thus, almost believed a host of other things, too: that last night had been more than a discharge of a duty, a fulfilment of a contract between them; that he’d felt what she’d felt at the end; that he’d stolen her dress and conjured up the forfeit because he didn’t want her to go. Most dangerous of all, that there was something real between them, that their night together didn’t have to end. That was the biggest folly of all.

‘I love oranges. We seldom have them in the country except at Christmas,’ Julia confessed, using a finger to wipe an errant dribble of juice from her chin.

‘They taste better when someone else feeds them to you.’ Paine hoisted himself up to take her head in his lap. He looked down at her with a soft expression in his blue eyes that did strange things to her stomach. He could feed her worms for all she’d care when he looked at her like that—as if she was a divine goddess and he a devout worshipper. This man was far more rakish, far more seductive than any rumour had suggested. He was a consummate master at his trade.

‘Is it always like this?’ She arched her neck back to see all of his handsome visage staring down at her.

‘No, hardly.’ He held a succulent orange slice over her mouth and made a show of gently squeezing sweet drops of juice on her lips. Julia felt her breasts tighten in analogy, remembering the way he’d manipulated her nipples with soft pressure until they’d been erect with need.

‘I can see why,’ Julia said softly. ‘If such pleasure was so readily available, I doubt anyone would get much of anything done.’ She blushed at her own frankness and Paine laughed again, popping another slice of orange in her mouth.

‘How is it that you are privy to such carnal knowledge?’ Julia asked between bites.

‘I shouldn’t tell you. A master never shares his secrets,’ Paine flirted. ‘But I can hardly have you walking around London thinking just anyone can do this.’ He dribbled juice on her lips. She flicked her tongue across her lips to gather the juice and heard him groan at the action, a low throaty groan that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with pleasure. It was a small, thrilling piece of power to think such a simple motion could affect a man of his experience.

He offered her a slice of orange dipped in ground sugar, sliding it into her open mouth and letting her suck the juice from it. She closed her eyes and sucked hard, wholly unaware at how the sight of her savouring the rare treat with abject delight was pushing the limits of Paine’s restraint. His hand clenched in her hair.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, recognising the intensity of the need mirrored in his gaze. He wanted her. His eyes said it. His body said it. She was sharply alert to the intimacy of his lap, the thinness of the silk fabric. She had only to turn her head slightly to encounter the full dimension of his rock-hard manhood. Julia thought of the orange slice, of its slightly phallus-like shape, of sucking the juice from it. Would Paine like that? The look in his eyes suggested he would. Hesitantly, Julia turned her head. She parted her lips and mouthed him through his trousers.

Paine gave a sharp gasp at the contact. She drew back, worried the idea wasn’t to his liking after all. ‘Don’t stop, Julia, don’t stop,’ he pleaded, a gentle hand urging her head back to his straining member.

Julia was giddy with power. She sucked hard until Paine made no effort to confine his satisfaction to groans, but gave full vent to his enjoyment with loud cries.

‘Julia, pull it out, let me be in you.’ He panted, close to his end.

Julia found the hidden slit in his trousers and pulled free the swollen member, slick with its own juices. Her hand clenched about its tip, revelling in what she had wrought. She reached over his head for the trifle box he’d used last night and rummaged quickly for a sheath.

‘Now, straddle me, Julia.’ Paine instructed, helping her to roll the thin sheath over his sex. ‘Take me inside you and ride.’

Julia lowered herself on to him, exhaling in wonderment as she slid on him. He was so large, much larger than she’d thought last night. Yet he fit perfectly, filling up the space inside her. She began her motions and he joined her in a seamless rocking rhythm that teased her, then ultimately fulfilled her as she found the place she’d found last night, soaring in Paine’s arms. He drew her down to him as he shuddered his own release, muffling his cries in her shoulder.

They lay together, their breathing slowing in unison as the initial power of climaxing ebbed. Julia wanted to stay clasped against him, warm and sated in his arms, for ever. Reality intruded. If she moved, breakfast would be over. She would have to go. But she no longer wanted to.

She wanted to stay. She wanted to feel this pleasure he’d awoken in her again and again. She didn’t imagine such pleasure could be found with Oswalt. She fought a shudder. The horror of doing such intimate things with him escalated against the backdrop of what she’d shared with Paine Ramsden.

‘Are you cold?’ Paine reached for a throw to wrap about them, misinterpreting the reason for her shudder.

Julia searched for a way to prolong the moment, the minutes of their time together. ‘You have not answered my question yet.’

‘Mmm.’ Paine breathed into her hair sounding like a well contented man. ‘There are studies, sutras, in India that teach men and women about sexual congress. Each person has a different task, a different function in the act. There are such teachings in China as well. Remember my cabinet with the yin and yang symbol?’ He shifted Julia to the side and wrapped an arm about her, warming to his subject. She waited for him to continue, her curiosity getting the better of her at the idea of such studies.

‘In China, the man is the yin and the woman is the yang. It’s the man’s task, through lovemaking, to make the woman give up her essence, her yang, without losing his own yin to attain it. When a woman climaxes, her essence is surrendered.’

Julia punched him in the shoulder. ‘That sounds completely arrogant and not so enjoyable for the man if he can’t—what did you call it? Climax?’ She tried out the new word.

‘That’s the whole point,’ Paine instructed. ‘Attaining a woman’s yang without climaxing yourself makes you strong and it increases your life. It’s the mark of a skilled male to be able to claim such discipline. There’s tales of men being able to have congress with up to fourteen women before releasing their yin.’

Julia levered up on one arm and searched his face quizzically. ‘Last night, and just now, did you, uh, steal my yang, as it were?’ She’d felt that he’d held back nothing, as had she. It would be a private disappointment to learn she’d been cheated in a fashion.

Paine smiled. ‘No, my enchantress. I gave up as much as I took.’ Paine folded his arms behind his head.

‘So you’ve taken my virginity and I’ve taken your immortality,’ Julia said drily.

Paine chuckled. ‘I suppose so, but chances are I was mortal already. Those are old teachings. Some say they go back to the third century before Christ. Since then, the Chinese have shifted their focus. They discovered that denying women the yin denied men their heirs. Now, the sexual teachings have been adapted to be more cooperative in their outcome, much more similar to India.’

‘Oh, no stealing of essences there, then?’ Julia probed, utterly enthralled by such talk.

‘No stealing, only giving. In Hinduism—that’s the primary religion in India—sexual intercourse is seen as a metaphor for a relationship with the gods. Sex is spiritual and sacred.’

‘I think I prefer the Indian way.’ The words were out of her mouth before she could rethink the wisdom of them. She regretted it immediately.

Paine would think she meant something by them, something altogether much more personal than she intended their dealings to be. To cover her silliness, she sat up, letting her hair fall over her shoulders. She made no move to shove it back from her face. Its curtain obscured her face, which was just as well. She had what she came for—she was thoroughly ruined by now and fully instructed in more than she’d bargained for. Such knowledge made it hard to leave, knowing that she’d find no outlet for it in the English world.

It was past time to go and Paine Ramsden did not strike her as a man who responded well to womanly whines. Even in her naïvety, she knew he would be a hard man to hold. He did nothing for the sake of tradition and protocol. He operated by an entirely different standard of rules. The rumours about him had been right in that respect, although much else she’d heard did not ring true with what she’d experienced. She should put on her dress and be gone with all the dignity she could find.

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