“Do you?”
His murmured words did strange things to Julianna’s insides. She’d found men attractive before, but she’d never desired one. She shook her head at her wayward thoughts. No, no. That way led to trouble. If she’d learned anything from her father’s devious romantic entanglements, it was that. Desire was one thing; surrendering to it, and the potentially disastrous consequences, was quite another thing entirely.
“No? You don’t need the money?” He stopped rubbing along her collarbone, and the skin and muscles there tightened and jumped in protest. Surely that was not good.
“No,” she said loudly, and his head jerked back a little in surprise. She blinked rapidly and then shook her head again. She was so completely out of her depth in this situation that his mere touch confused her. “I mean, yes, yes I do need the money. For rent, you see.”
She winced at her garbled explanation. Could she possibly sound any more foolish? It would be better if she just kept silent.
“Are you desperate, poppet?” he murmured. He was looking at her oddly, his head tipped to the side. His finger resumed its exploration of her collarbone, adding a new twist as he dragged it down one side of her deep, open shirt collar and back up the other side. Julianna shivered and bit her lip to suppress a whimper. “How desperate, I wonder? ” he said, and Julianna wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to himself.
He stopped the movement of his finger but left it pressed against the hollow dip between her collarbones. Good lord, she’d never imagined that area could be so extremely sensitive. It would be difficult to expose her throat and shoulders in the latest fashions without remembering his touch. He had managed to make such a simple caress feel sinfully erotic. What a delightfully wicked man he is turning out to be. She smiled at the thought, and she saw an answering spark in the narrowing of his pale eyes and the twist of his lips into a wry smile. Julianna immediately pulled back, breaking their contact. She was being a fool, encouraging him when she should be trying to talk her way out of the situation. What on earth was wrong with her? Despite appearances, she had never engaged in conversation, or anything else for that matter, with a naked man. She was about to tell him as much when he spoke again.
“Do you know what I will do?” he asked conversationally, as he stepped back from her. He smiled politely before turning and walking over to the bed. He leaned against the bedpost, crossing his arms as he regarded her.
Julianna was having trouble thinking of anything except how much she missed his touch. “I…” She paused to lick her lips, and his smile grew. “I have no idea, frankly. This situation is beyond me.”
She could not imagine how she was going to get out of this mess. She was so scared at the thought of being turned over to the authorities that she could hardly think. She couldn’t reveal her identity. Doing so would create a furor, producing a whole new set of problems for her. But how else was she going to convince him of her innocence when she had his pearl in her pocket? She’d always expected to come to a bad end—her father was a thief, after all, and she’d had no mother to raise her.
At her honest and exasperated remark, Mr. Sharp laughed out loud. He was her adversary. She had to remember that, if she hoped to get out of this situation unscathed.
He straightened and took a step toward her. “I’ll give you the pearl, my dear.”
Julianna’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. “What?”
“For one night in my bed. Tonight.”
When he had run his finger down her cheek, Alasdair had felt how fine her bone structure was, with sharply defined cheekbones and a strong, square jaw, not to mention her soft, smooth skin. Now a shaft of pale moonlight that had crept across the room revealed her astonished expression. From her silence he assumed she was contemplating his offer. She really was the most awful thief, unable to conceal anything in that guileless face, the poor darling. A dark kerchief covered most of her hair, though some had escaped to rest in wisps against her cheeks. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t place her. He would figure it out in the morning, when there was more light.
Clearly she’d been reduced to trying to steal the pearl by the most desperate of circumstances. God only knew what else she had needed to do to keep the wolf from her door. Such a small thing to have so many burdens on her delicate shoulders. In the morning he would make arrangements for her. After breakfast they would go shopping for clothes and those fripperies that women loved so. And then he would call on his agent and they’d find a nice house for her, perhaps here in London, or someplace just outside of the city. He was getting tired of the society here. It would be nice to have a pleasant little house and his little thief there to keep him company at night. She would never again have to sneak into a man’s bedchamber to commit larceny in order to keep a roof over her head. Alasdair would see to that, even after they parted company.
“Well?” he prompted, pleased with his plans.
She frowned at him, and he nearly laughed. She really was delightful. When a man went to bed at night, he never knew what might await him the next time he climbed out of it. He certainly hadn’t been prepared for her. When he’d first become aware of the stranger sneaking around in his rooms, he’d expected to spend the better part of his night dealing with the watchmen. What a marvelous surprise she was turning out to be.
“I need a moment to think,” she snapped at him.
He raised his brows, a little surprised at her tone. “Well, that’s hardly flattering.”
In the weak moonlight he saw her delicate brows go up, mocking him. “Why? Did you expect me to joyously throw myself against your manly chest at the first opportunity? I am not that inexperienced, Mr. Sharp.”
Well, when she put it that way it was even less flattering, especially since that was exactly what he had been thinking. “I do not doubt your experience, my dear. I am simply offering to give you what you came here for.”
“I did not come here for that.”
The way she said “that” told Alasdair more than her words. Clearly she had never had a pleasant experience in a man’s bed. He didn’t doubt that she’d been in one before. But he was offering her so much more than one night. He wanted to pleasure her, to hear her cry his name in ecstasy. Yes, he always liked that part. He smiled at the thought.
She frowned harder when she saw his smile. “And if I…lay with you tonight, will you swear to give me the pearl in the morning?”
“If that is still what you want,” he answered, knowing full well she would have other things on her mind by morning. He’d spent the better part of his wayward youth learning to please a variety of lovers, and he knew this delightful little thief would get more than she was bargaining for.
She shook her head firmly. “No. I want your word. If I…stay here tonight, with you, I want your word that you will give me the pearl in the morning.”
He took a moment to study her. When he’d first heard her voice, he’d gotten the impression of delicacy—an impression that was strengthened when he stood over her, touching her. She seemed small, fragile, with big, luminous eyes, a small nose, and a wide, generous mouth just made for love. Surely a mouth like that couldn’t lie. But he’d almost forgotten that she was a thief. She had broken into his home with the intention of stealing from him. No matter how guileless and innocent her face, she lacked moral character. For some perverse reason, that made him want her all the more.