The Prince of Pleasure (Notorious 5)

Just then Julienne laughed at something the viscount said, and Dare felt himself tense with jealousy.

A moment later, though, she turned and caught his own gaze. When she met his deliberate stare, his brow lifted mockingly. Yet he wasn't able to discompose her. Instead the look Julienne returned was cool, self-possessed, and full of challenge.

They were the eyes of a woman who knew her power, Dare realized.

A stab of desire shot through him so raw, so hot that all he could do was wait for the savage ache to ease.

Turning away then, Julienne gave him the elegant line of her back. Her obvious dismissal filled him with frustration. They were playing at seduction, but he was no longer confident of winning the game at which he was so expert. He'd spent countless sleepless nights since having her, lying in bed alone, aching for her. Nor was his body all that ached. The painful tightness in his chest was the throbbing of an old reopened wound.

Dare ground his teeth together. For nearly seven years he had ruthlessly sealed away the part of him that Julienne had left savagely lacerated and bleeding. He would do so again if it took his last ounce of strength.

Julienne had difficulty enjoying the next few hours, even though she wasn't required to endure Dare's close proximity. He accompanied the ranking female guest-the dowager countess-in to dinner and sat at the head of the table, while Julienne was seated much farther down.

The repast was sumptuous, with five courses and dozens of removes, and even the highly discriminating Solange praised the fare. Reportedly Dare had sent his London chef ahead days earlier to prepare for his guests' arrival. But Julienne was too conscious of the awkwardness of her position here at his home to do justice to the feast. Everyone present, she knew, had heard of the wager. And whether or not she was to provide the entertainment for the week, her relationship with Dare was sure to be the focus of all eyes.

She did her best, however, to give her attention to her dinner partners. The one on her right was one of Riddingham's friends, a soft-spoken gentleman named Martin Perrine. His pleasant, self-deprecating manner contrasted sharply with that of Riddingham's other friend, Sir Stephen Ormsby.

When the talk turned to horse racing, Julienne politely asked Mr. Perrine if he was involved in the Turf.

Sir Stephen laughed and answered for him. "Martin is a younger son with no prospects to speak of. He can scarcely afford the cost of a hired hack, much less a string of racehorses."

Mr. Perrine's pained expression was one of acute embarrassment, and Julienne hastened to reply. "I understand that only the wealthiest nabobs can afford the expense of racing. To my mind, it seems a shocking waste. I suppose that is why it is called the sport of kings."

Perrine's forced smile held a hint of gratitude, and Julienne soon changed the subject. Yet she couldn't help glancing at the nobleman at the head of the table. Dare could easily have been mistaken for royalty with his aristocratic countenance. That high brow and classic bone structure belonged to the prince in a fairy tale. And he was reputed to be one of the wealthiest men in the kingdom. He could well afford a lengthy battle between them, bribing her associates and purchasing her time for outrageous sums.

Julienne felt a sharp twinge of dismay as she wondered yet again how she could possibly defend herself against Dare with her own meager resources.

She was glad when the ladies repaired to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their port, but her respite was short-lived since the gentlemen soon joined them.

When someone suggested they have some music, Julienne found herself approached by Lord Riddingham. "You sing like an angel, Miss Laurent. Will you do us the honor?"

She glanced up at Dare, who had moved to stand near her chair. He had offered her a huge sum to attend his house party, but they hadn't actually discussed the terms of her employment.

Resuming her assigned role, she gave him a provocative smile. "So, Lord Wolverton, am I to sing for my supper?" she asked, a challenging edge to her voice.

"Not unless you wish to."

"I believe I shall decline then. I prefer to devote my energies to winning our wager."

Dare's mouth curved in his notorious, wicked grin.

"I look forward to your performance with great anticipation."

Riddingham looked from her to Dare, evidently feeling the sudden sexual tension that crackled between the two of them, and hastened to intervene. "It is just as well, I expect. None of the ladies wish to be outshone by you, Miss Laurent."

Several of the ladies did indeed look relieved when Julienne chose to play cards. They took turns performing on the pianoforte and singing, while the rest of the company made up several tables of whist and one of piquet.

That dinner set the tone for the house party's evening entertainments, but during the next few days, numerous other amusements were offered for their pleasure: riding, playing pall-mall and battledore on the lawns, strolling through the magnificent gardens, and an historical excursion to the local ancient hill forts and shafts where flint arrowheads were once mined.

The gentlemen in particular were anxious to view Dare's prime horseflesh and rose early each morning to watch his racers at their training gallops. They were preparing for the 2000 Guineas to be run at Newmarket in May and the Derby at Epsom Downs in early June.

The first half of the week, Julienne did her best to maintain her public battle with Dare but tried never to be alone with him, determined to avoid repeating the regrettable sexual intimacy of their last private encounter.

Yet evading him proved surprisingly easy. He performed his duties as host with impeccable grace and charm. And to the delight of his guests, he flirted with her outrageously, his rakish wit keeping Julienne constantly on her toes. But he made no effort to seduce her or lure her into seclusion as she expected.

His strategy bewildered her a little. She didn't believe for one moment that he had given up the chase. Dare was a master of subtle manipulation. She suspected he meant to lull her into a false sense of security-but if so, it wasn't working. His delay merely heightened her tension.

She felt on edge in Dare's presence and far too aware of the heat that shimmered in her veins at his merest glance. And when he was absent, she found her heart beating in anticipation of seeing him again. Worse were the charged emotions that kept surfacing between them at the least instigation.