Nicole Jordan - The prince of pleasure

One of the most vocal of her courtiers was Hugh Bramley, Viscount Riddingham. Tall and slightly gangly, he possessed unremarkable brown hair and nondescript features, but he was affable and amusing and extremely well-mannered, and Julienne found herself fonder of him than any of the others.

Riddingham was clearly unhappy with the turn of events, however, and showed an unmistakable jealousy.

"The nerve of the rogue, making such an exhibition of himself. Miss Laurent, I trust you don't intend to permit that insufferable fellow to make you the target of his depraved amusements. His perversions are legend."

"He will be no danger to me if you are at hand to protect me," she returned lightly, trying to soothe Riddingham's ruffled feathers while keeping a nervous eye on the door, expecting Dare to make an appearance at any moment.

It was all she could do to hide her tension and feign interest in their witticisms. When she was offered a dozen invitations for a late-night supper, she declined prettily, claiming fatigue.

Three-quarters of an hour later, her less persistent swains had retired from the lists and the crowd had thinned somewhat. Having regained a small measure of her composure, Julienne began to hope that she needn't deal with the notorious marquess any further this evening and she could retire to her dressing room and then to her lodgings alone.

She was laughing over one of Riddingham's sallies when she suddenly saw the viscount stiffen. A noted hush fell over the company, and when the sea of gentleman parted, Dare North stood before her.

Julienne's heart somersaulted violently in her chest.

At first glance he seemed to possess the same refined elegance she remembered, the same lithe grace, the same lean hardness. Yet his shoulders were broader beneath his exquisitely tailored blue coat, she noted; his thighs more powerfully muscled, sheathed in formal satin breeches.

His elaborate cravat set off the fine, aristocratic features she found just as striking as they had been seven years ago. His face, with its high cheekbones and noble brow, had always had the devil's own beauty.

It was all Julienne could do to keep from staring.

Dare had no such reservations, apparently. His slow appraisal seemed to penetrate her garments, brushing over her bosom significantly revealed by the low, square neckline of her elaborate costume, moving to her narrow waist, then resting on her hips encased in flaring panniers. It was the measuring scrutiny of a man who knew women intimately.

She took a steadying breath, trying to calm the rapid beat of her heart.

"At last I understand why all London is raving," he said. "From a distance, your stage presence is stunning. But in close proximity… your beauty renders me inarticulate."

Julienne eyed him coolly. "I take leave to doubt that, my lord. I would imagine you are rarely at a loss for words."

"Rarely." His mouth quirked with his heart-melting smile, rife with the sensual charm she remembered so well.

She tried frantically to think of something sophisticated and witty to say. Before anything occurred, however, Dare reached out and brought her fingers to his lips to kiss their tips slowly.

Her stomach tightened with a jolt of pure, feminine desire.

His faint smile was knowing and experienced.

Only with great effort did Julienne refrain from snatching her hand away, extricating her fingers slowly instead. Yet she deplored her response to that simple contact, deplored how the memory lingered too long.

"I wonder that you deign to grace us with your presence, my lord. The play has been over for some time."

"I wanted to allow your other courtiers their fair share of your company, since I intend to take you to supper."

There were several immediate objections from the gentlemen surrounding her, Riddingham's being the most adamant. "Miss Laurent will not be accompanying you anywhere, Wolverton."

Dare raised an eyebrow at the viscount. "I regret, old friend, to be poaching on your territory, but I have a wager to win, after all. Surely you understand."

Julienne intervened with a chilly smile, addressing Dare. "Thank you for your consideration, but Lord Riddingham is correct. I must decline. I fear that after tonight's performance, I have a headache."

"All that murder and mayhem, no doubt," he murmured. "But I trust you will allow me to register a protest. You accepted my challenge, mademoiselle. In all fairness, you must give me the chance to woo you. How can I win your surrender otherwise?"

"I fancy that is your problem, not mine."

"What of your vow to bring me to my knees?"

"Some other time, perhaps. Now, if you will forgive me, I must change my costume."

Rising from the chaise regally, she flashed an apologetic smile that encompassed everyone but Wolverton. "I hope very much to see all you gentlemen tomorrow."

Leaving the green room behind, Julienne negotiated the narrow corridor to her dressing room. She was about to close the door when, to her utter dismay, Dare entered behind her.

Whirling, she stared at him indignantly as he locked the door, shutting them in together.

"Your manners always were supremely deficient," she observed. "I thought I made myself clear. I wish to be alone."

"No, you said you wished to change your costume."

His green eyes bright, he surveyed her with interest. Julienne fought the defensive urge to cross her arms over her chest. It unnerved her to be alone with Dare for the first time since their rift. Yet she was not entirely surprised by his presumptuous invasion; Dare North was a man who knew the rules of polite behavior and blatantly ignored them.

She was spared a reply, however, when an urgent pounding sounded on the door, followed by Riddingham's concerned query. "Miss Laurent, did Wolverton follow you here? Do you need assistance?" He pounded again.

"You had best reassure him," Dare murmured, "before he smashes the door down."

She felt a strong desire to box Dare's ears as she watched him slip behind the large ornate dressing screen. He always did have the most incredible nerve…

She unlocked the door instead, opening it partway to find a scowling Lord Riddingham.

"Shall I summon the manager?" he growled.

Julienne had no desire to compound the recent spectacle or rouse the viscount's jealousy further by revealing that Dare was alone with her in her private dressing room. Feigning bewilderment, she gave Riddingham a puzzled frown. "Why would you wish to summon the manager?"

"I thought to find Wolverton here."

"You must have been mistaken." Holding her breath, she opened the door wide, showing him the small dressing room jammed with a wide variety of costumes and props, leaving just enough space for a dressing table and screen.

"See, my lord. I don't require assistance, although I thank you. It was kind of you. Were Wolverton here making a nuisance of himself, I would have been exceedingly glad for you to come to my rescue."

When Riddingham cleared his throat and apologized for disturbing her, Julienne reassured him once more. After he took his leave, she closed the door and counted to ten before saying in a wry tone, "I believe it is safe for you to come out now."

When Dare showed himself, she added with a tart edge, "You disappeared with such ease, I can only assume you have long practice evading outraged husbands and lovers."

"You suppose correctly," he agreed blandly.

"Well, I will thank you to take yourself off now and allow me some privacy."

The grin he flashed was brilliant enough to make her heart falter. "I cannot leave until I'm certain Riddingham is gone. Surely you prefer that I spare you embarrassment. You wouldn't wish me to expose you for a liar, would you?"

"Very well," Julienne snapped. "You may stay for a few moments more. But if it is not too inconvenient, would you mind coming out from behind the screen and allowing me use of it?"