Notorious Rake, Innocent Lady. Bronwyn Scott

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      For a moment, she’d forgotten where she was and why she was there. The heat of his gaze on her back served as a searing reminder. She dropped the blanket self-consciously and stiffened.

      ‘It’s a magnificent bed,’ Paine said from across the room in a slow drawl that indicated he’d watched her every move.

      ‘It’s very interesting. I’ve never seen one like it,’ Julia replied stiffly, turning away from the bed.

      ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a drink before we get started?’ Paine offered, opening the inlaid doors of the ebony cabinet to reveal assorted sizes of crystal glassware and an impressive collection of decanters.

      Julia was tempted to say no. As a rule, she didn’t drink beyond an occasional glass of champagne. But tonight, the thought-numbing properties of alcohol, which she had been warned against as a débutante, might be just the addition she needed to get through the evening. ‘Yes, sherry, please.’

      Before she could rethink her decision, Paine had the glass in her hand and was gesturing to one of the cushioned chairs. ‘Let’s sit and talk. It makes these encounters less formal.’

      His coolness spoke volumes about his character, Julia thought. While she was fighting back nerves, he was entirely at ease, as if this were something he did regularly—which, in fact, it was, according to the rumours. He lounged casually in his chair, looking devastatingly handsome and comfortable. The only sign he was in any way affected by the presence of a female in his chambers was the burning intensity of his eyes—eyes that followed her every gesture, every move. She was supremely conscious she was fiddling overmuch with the folds of her skirts as she sat.

      Julia sipped from her glass, giving herself a moment to savour the warmth of the sweet liquor as it slid down to her belly. ‘You must like to travel.’ There. That was a safe topic.

      Paine nodded briefly. ‘I have found places in the world where I feel at home.’

      ‘Are these pieces of furniture from any of those places?’ Julia asked, her eyes sliding to the lacquered cabinet, looking desperately for a safe direction of conversation. She’d hoped he would have said more about his travels than the meagre offering of a single sentence. But the talkativeness he’d exhibited upon arrival seemed to have disappeared. ‘Do you know anything about the design on the cabinet? It appears to be a symbol. Do you know what it is?’

      ‘Yes. I know.’ Paine followed her gaze to the inlaid panels of the cabinet doors, a smile quirking at his sensual lips.

      The dratted man was a rotten conversationalist with his minimal answers. Julia put down her glass and rose. She went to the panels, tracing a portion of the symbol with a slow finger. ‘Mr Ramsden, talking to you is virtually impossible since you are not the least bit forthcoming with any information. I feel obliged to tell you that a gentleman is able to make conversation on a diverse array of subjects.’ She hazarded a sideways glance at Ramsden to see the effect of her veiled barb.

      It had hit the mark, perhaps too effectively. Ramsden rose and came towards her with all the feral stealth of a jungle panther. He paced behind her, giving Julia the distinct impression she was being stalked. She had not meant to strike so deeply.

      ‘Miss Prentiss,’ he began in low tones, ‘your very comment is a trap from which neither of the answers available shall save me. My dilemma, you see, is that while proving my worth as a gentleman I am at the same time besmirching that title by the same means. If I confess that I am no gentleman, I shall save myself from answering what the symbol is, but at the expense of my honour, which I hold dearer than you might have been led to believe. On the other hand, if I confess what the symbol is and provide an erudite exposition of my conversational skills, I shall vouch for my ability to perform the gentlemanly arts. However, discussing that symbol with any well-bred girl is a conversational topic that no true gentleman would broach. So I ask you—do you want to know what the symbol stands for?’

      Julia bit her lip and fought the desire to step back, away from his masculine onslaught. He stood with hands on his hips hardly inches from her, his blue eyes penetrating and challenging as he threw down his gauntlet. She saw his ploy and the detection gave her strength. He still thought to scare her with his dares and the promise of blatant sin.

      The man was positively aggravating. She was supposed to be the one baiting the hook and yet he’d neatly turned the conversation to his advantage. ‘So you cleverly choose neither option. Instead, you lure me with temptation, betting that my curiosity will cause me to permit you to speak freely, thus absolving you of any gentlemanly obligation on the subject.’

      ‘Touché. You see my ploy too clearly.’ Ramsden covered his heart with a hand in mock hurt.

      ‘You might as well tell me about the symbol,’ Julia prompted. ‘After all, I am about to grant you far more liberties than that of questionable speech.’ It was as close as she would get to admitting her curiosity had won out. Since he’d made such a to-do over discussing the panel, she had to know what it was about.

      Ramsden’s hands came down on her shoulders, his fingers kneading gently through the thin material of her dancing gown. He turned her away from him to face the cabinet, his voice low and soft at her ear. In that moment, her senses were utterly encircled by his presence; the scent of him in her nostrils, the warm strength of his body against her back, the press of his fingers to her shoulders. He was the centre of her universe, the only person she could see, smell, touch or hear. Julia could scarcely concentrate on the tale he laid out in tones designed to seduce even the most resolute spinster.

      ‘The symbol is known throughout the eastern world as yin and yang, two opposite but yet complementary forces that make up all aspects of life.’ His voice dropped a notch lower, speaking now just to her. ‘Yin, the dark portion of the symbol, is female. It represents valleys and streams. It is passive and absorbing.’ At this, Ramsden ran a hand languorously down her arm, took her fingers between his and led them over the bottom part of the inlay, the ebony smooth and cool to her touch. He guided her hand over the top portion done in ivory.

      ‘This is yang, her male counterpart, representing light and heaven. Yang is penetrating and active.’ He pressed his hips against the round swell of her buttocks, letting her feel the possibilities of penetration between her thighs, between them. Julia inhaled sharply at the suggestive display. He whispered huskily, ‘Yin and yang express the interdependence of opposites. Without the other, neither is complete. Feel the need you arouse in me, Julia, a need only you can slake. ‘

      Julia felt weak. Heaven help her, she was a wanton to react in such a base manner with a stranger she didn’t know beyond a name. Her business proposition was quickly turning to unnamable pleasure. She wanted to sink back against his chest, let his arms close about her and take her weight. She wanted him to fulfil the ancient, earthy promises of his voice. She’d never guessed a simple cabinet could inspire this depth of longing.

      One of his hands slid about her waist, drawing her against his hardness, the other was in her hair, slipping through the pins and pearls of her elegant coiffure until her hair hung loose and free. This time when his hardness jutted against her back, she could not even feign shock over his intimate proposal. This time, her inhalation was from pure desire that would not be put off any longer.

      She turned in his arms, pressing her body against his, instinctively rubbing her nipples against his chest in a desperate attempt to quell the tempest brewing at her core. She looked up into his face. His blue eyes no longer reminded her of the colour of the sky on a deep summer day, but bore shades of midnight, darkened as they were by his arousal.

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