The Black Diamond (Black Diamond 2)

"By experience, no. By definition, yes. You're a mercenary, a man who seeks wealth and excitement by traveling the world, taking on ventures that yield huge monetary rewards and equally huge doses of exhilaration and triumph."

A corner of Julian's mouth lifted. "Accurate enough. But you failed to mention the darker aspects: the dangers, the risks, the consequences of restoring one man's possession by wresting it from another. In short, I've learned to sleep lightly, with one eye open, and never to be caught with my back turned. If I did, let's just say there are many who for various reasons and in various parts of the world would be delighted to plunge a knife into it."

Aurora's brows drew together, not so much with worry as with speculation. "In other words, you have quite a few enemies."

"Enough."

"Can you tell me about them? Or about your exploits, for that matter?"

"Perhaps someday," Julian hedged. "For now, you need only know the facts. My life is turbulent. Turbulent and dangerous."

"I suspected as much."

"You're not intimidated?"

A smile curved Aurora's lips. "Why should I be? You vowed to Slayde that you'd keep me safe."

"So I did." Julian was claimed by an odd surge of relief—one that had nothing to do with his determination to find the black diamond. "And so I shall." His gaze fell to her lips, sparking a nearly uncontrollable urge to drag her into his arms, rekindle the fire they'd ignited last night. "Once we've restored the black diamond, you're welcome to stay behind, forego the rigors of my existence," he offered, knowing damned well he didn't mean a word of it. The more intimate aspects of this marriage, the erotic fantasy of Aurora as his wife, necessitated having her with him—under him, surrounding him—every possible moment.

Evidently Aurora sensed the direction his thoughts had taken, because her awareness of him seemed to intensify, her breath coming a bit faster, her lips parting beneath his heated gaze. "Stay behind?" she managed.

"Um-hum." Giving in to his craving to touch her more fully, Julian slid his hand beneath her hair, caressing her nape in slow, heated strokes. "I own a great deal of property, including a manor in Cornwall that overlooks the water." He angled her head, pressed his lips to the pulse at her throat, fully aware he was using seduction to influence her decision and feeling not a shred of guilt for doing so. "When I'm in England, I spend most of my time there. I think you'd like it. You could make it your home during my absence." His mouth slid around, tasted the delicate line of her jaw. "I employ a small staff of servants there. They could look after you while I'm abroad. I'd be away several months at a time…"

"No." Aurora was trembling but her words were utterly coherent, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "I've had more than enough tranquility and confinement to last a lifetime. If we marry, I want to accompany you on your adventures."

"I think that could be arranged," Julian murmured, teasing the corner of her mouth with his. "Most of the time," he clarified, his hands gripping her shoulders, urging her closer. "If there's excessive risk involved, I reserve the right to insist that you stay in England, safe."

"So long as that isn't too often," she qualified breathlessly. "I'm not afraid of risk."

"Only curses," he modified in a husky whisper.

"Only curses."

"Agreed, then. On most excursions you'll accompany me."

"After all, you did promise me passion." Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes drowsy with awakening sensation. "And passion, as I understand it, requires proximity, does it not?"

"Indeed it does. Close proximity." Aroused beyond bearing, Julian stood, dragging Aurora to her feet and into his arms. "I think we've negotiated enough, don't you, soleil?"

"Oh, definitely." Unashamedly Aurora reached up, twined her arms about Julian's neck. "From the tenor of our conversation, I was beginning to fear you wanted strictly a marriage of convenience."

"You have no worries on that score." His fingers slid down the length of her arms to her shoulders, threaded through her hair. "No worries at all."

With that his mouth seized hers, capturing it for a scorching, melding, bottomless kiss that eclipsed the memory of last night beneath its molten flames.

Blood pounded through Julian's head, hammered at his loins, as the same dark wave that had claimed him at Dawlish's engulfed him, dragging him into a hot sea of sensation. Aurora's taste was heaven, her scent and feel more intoxicating than brandy—even through the confines of their clothes. He couldn't get enough of her, parting her lips, possessing her with deep, hungry strokes of his tongue. He hauled her closer, lifted her into him.

And felt the exhilaration of her response.

With an inarticulate sound of pleasure, Aurora threw herself into the kiss, holding him fiercely, meeting the tantalizing strokes of his tongue with her own.

The fire blazed higher.

Anchoring her with one arm, Julian's other hand slid around to cup her breast, his thumb finding her already hardened nipple and rubbing it—back and forth, back and forth—groaning aloud at the sheer agonizing pleasure, drinking in Aurora's tiny whimpers of arousal. He tore his mouth from hers, lowering his head to capture the hardened peak between his lips, tugging at the wet silk until Aurora cried out, clutched his shirtfront in tight, shivering fists.

He was actually on the verge of lowering her to the oriental rug when the grandfather clock in the hall began to chime, penetrating Julian's passion-dazed mind and reminding him of where they were, how brief a time remained before Slayde returned.

With a herculean effort, he raised his head, staring into Aurora's astonished turquoise eyes as he slowly lowered her to her feet. "Are you all right?"