The Prince of Pleasure (Notorious 5)

He leaned back in his chair, exhibiting his usual elegant grace, but Julienne found it difficult to show the same casual ease. She was too conscious of Dare. His gilded hair glimmered in the candlelight, its soft, thick waves threaded riotously with gold and flaxen. Worse, she kept seeing images of her fingers gliding through it, and images of his fingers reciprocating.

Involuntarily she glanced down at his hands, which held a wine goblet, almost caressing the stem, and an inexplicable yearning Filled her. She could almost feel those warm, deft hands on her skin…

"It has been a long time," he murmured, startling her with his perceptiveness.

"Not long enough for my tastes," she rejoined, feigning nonchalance yet glad that the dimness of the room concealed her flush.

She was even more relieved when a discreet knock on the door heralded the entrance of supper, served by two footmen. There were several courses: clear partridge soup with truffles, braised ham, trout in tomato and garlic sauce, peas, creamed artichoke hearts, sweetbreads, prawns, fricassee of veal with Madeira sauce, and finally preserved cherries and plum pudding.

Every dish was delectable, but Julienne barely tasted any of them. Her attention kept straying to her companion… those arresting green eyes, the well-shaped, sensual mouth…

Don't think about his mouth, she ordered herself. Don't think about those firm, warm lips that made you shiver with passion. The seductive lips that had given and had taken so much pleasure. That wicked, heart-stopping smile that could lure a woman's soul from her body.

That smile had always been Dare's greatest asset. Or perhaps it was his remarkable way of looking at a woman. He focused such thrilling intensity on his target that she felt incredibly desirable.

As he was doing now, Julienne realized. He was watching her as if engrossed, despite the presence of the two footmen. She managed to bear his scrutiny until he dismissed the servers at the conclusion of the meal, leaving her alone with him.

"Did no one ever tell you it is ill-mannered to stare?" she asked, invoking a cool smile.

He grinned, his bearing relaxed. "Can I help but be fascinated by someone of your dazzling beauty? You intoxicate me."

"No doubt because the wine has gone to your head."

He measured her in a slow, exacting way, obviously determined to tear holes in the thin facade of her composure. "So what you have been doing with yourself all these years, mademoiselle?"

Her smile slipped, and she took a sip of wine, reluctant to answer. "I would rather you address me as Miss Laurent. I prefer not to call attention to the fact that I am French."

"Very well… darling." Amusement laced the edge of his voice, but his tone remained curious. "Your trace of an accent is no longer noticeable. Is that by design?"

"Yes," Julienne admitted. "It wasn't healthy for my acting career. The English consider themselves far superior to anyone of French origin and dislike any reminders of our d

ifferences."

"Our dislike of the French might have something to do with their despot who is bent on world domination," Dare said blandly.

She could have pointed out that many of her compatriots detested Napoleon Bonaparte far more than the British did, but she didn't intend to debate the issue with Dare.

Steepling his long fingers, he continued to watch her with that disconcerting gaze, although he changed the subject. "Tell me… are you sharing your bed with any of those puppies who were panting at your skirts tonight?"

Julienne drew a sharp breath at the boldness of the question. "That, I believe, is none of your concern."

"I simply want to know who my competition is. It is hard to tell whom you prefer most from among all the fops and swells surrounding you. From what I've observed, I would guess Riddingham. Is he my chief rival?"

Julienne allowed her lips to curve drolly and refused to reply.

"I should think you would prefer a real man to warm your bed," Dare remarked. "But if I recall correctly, you are not overly particular about your bed partners." The sudden caustic note in his voice suggested censure.

Calling on all her willpower, Julienne affected an expression of detachment and arched an eyebrow. "I find it incredible that the most profligate libertine in London would presume to judge my choices. From all reports, you have never been discriminating about the lovers you amuse yourself with. Or how many you have, for that matter."

"Oh, no, I am exceedingly discriminating. At least I am now. There was a time after you…" His gaze remained fixed on her, slowly shredding her nerves. "After you, Jewel, I didn't much care who I bedded. I was only intent in burying my pain in pleasures of the flesh."

She didn't respond to that admission, either, Dare noted. "It took me a long while to get over your cruelty, cherie."

Some emotion flickered in her eyes, something vulnerable and too fleeting for him to identify. Then she lowered her gaze, her lashes dark against her ivory skin.

"In fact, I could say that you were the one who set me on my path to wickedness."

Julienne lifted her chin at that, her expression skeptical. "You can hardly blame me for your licentiousness. You were a rake long before we met."