The warmth of his chest burned through the thin shirt she was wearing, and she felt the press of him against her stomach. She knew what the act entailed. There had been many maids and tavern girls throughout her youth who had been more than happy to explain it to her as they helped her sneak her father in and out of the beds of married women. But she had never before been tempted to give herself to anyone.
But Mr. Sharp was temptation itself. From the first moment she’d seen him, he had tempted her more than the pearl. And now she would have him. The real Julianna would never get this chance. But tonight, and tonight only, she would indulge this strange, inconvenient passion. She would give him what no one else would ever have, what no one else had wanted. And he would give her the pearl. It was a fair bargain.
“I want to taste you, little thief. All of you.” His voice was so low it was almost a growl. He bent his head and kissed her neck, nudging her shirt collar out of the way as he did so. She felt a hot, wet swipe there, and then his mouth latched on to her neck and he sucked.
The feeling was not unpleasant. She rose on her tiptoes and tilted her head to give him better access. His mouth was warm and soft, and she knew he was being gentle. But the caress was still rough and base and she enjoyed it.
She’d heard a few women talking behind their fans the other night about his rakish reputation, and the undesirable group of friends he associated with. They had called them the Saint’s Devils. Was he a rake? A libertine?
As he stopped his gentle suckling and then licked the spot lightly, she wondered, did she even care?
“Did you like that?” he whispered. “I think you did.” She could hear a smile in his voice, and she smiled back into the night. “We are going to enjoy one another immensely, little cat.”
He pulled her toward his bed, walking backward with his hands wrapped around her wrists, and she followed willingly. She was determined not to show any reluctance or he might suspect her inexperience. And it would be silly to show a reluctance she didn’t feel. She wanted to be on that bed with him, entwined in his arms, letting him do wicked things with her all night. She felt overly warm and desirable and powerful. It was amazing, what he made her feel with just a glance, a few words, his hands on her wrists.
“What shall I call you?” he asked quietly as he stopped beside the bed. He reached out and began to slowly pull her shirttails out of her trousers. For a moment she panicked, worried he might find the pearl. Her breathing hitched when she realized he meant to undress her. She answered him quickly, trying not to think about what was to come, only concentrating on his question.
“Juli—” she began without thinking, only to stop in horror at the magnitude of her slip. She’d nearly given him her real name. How utterly foolish she was becoming in his presence. “Juliet,” she mumbled.
Mr. Sharp chuckled and pulled her close again, laughing against her neck as his arms wrapped around her waist and one hand swept down to caress her bottom. “Juliet, is it? And am I your Romeo?”
His embrace and caress were offered so casually that Julianna was confused. How was she to react? She’d never been the object of such attention before. Did men and women often do this when they were alone? After a brief hesitation, she snuggled into his embrace, earning another chuckle from him.
She tentatively laid her fingertips on his bare back, and when he made no objection she pressed her palms full against him. His skin was soft and warm, and she could feel the pull of his muscles as he rocked her gently and nuzzled her neck again. She had never been held like this. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been this close to someone.
“Yes, Juliet, touch me just like that,” he murmured, and Julianna felt gooseflesh break out on her arms.
She ran her hands down his back, more sure of herself now. She noticed the little skip in his breathing, the shiver that raced down his back, rippling his muscles. His arms tightened around her as her hands came to rest in the dip at the small of his back. The skin there was warm, and she glided her fingers across it gently, making him shiver again.
Some lines from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet suddenly ran through her mind. She’d just seen the play last week. Part of Juliet’s speech to Romeo in the balcony scene of Act Two seemed somehow appropriate tonight.
“‘In truth, fair Montague,’” she whispered, “‘I am too fond, and therefore thou mayst think my behavior light.’” Mr. Sharp went still as she quoted Juliet. “‘But trust me, gentleman, I’ll prove more true than those that have more cunning to be strange.’”
“Juliet,” he murmured as his hands glided up under her now loose shirt and the short chemise she wore beneath it. The feel of his large, warm, rough male hands against the bare skin of her back felt so decadent and erotic, it made Julianna want to moan. “Go on,” he urged softly, “more.”
“‘I should have been more strange, I must confess,’” she continued breathlessly, “‘but that thou overheard’st, ere I was ware, my true love’s passion; therefore pardon me, and not impute this yielding to light love, which the dark night hath so discovered.’” She could barely say the final words—his hands were driving all thought from her head as they rubbed and glided over her skin, which felt hot and tight and more sensitive than ever before. She moaned as soon as the last word was out, and he pulled his hands to her sides, his thumbs rubbing along her ribcage, dangerously close to her breasts. Please, God, she wanted them on her breasts.
“Am I now to swear constancy by the moon?” Mr. Sharp asked her, raising his head to gaze intently at her face.
Julianna licked her lips—she liked to watch him watch her do that—before answering. “No, not the inconstant moon, Romeo.” He smiled wickedly at her. “After all, I don’t believe that worked out so well in the end for Shakespeare’s lovers.”
Mr. Sharp laughed quietly in genuine amusement. “No, I don’t believe so. But then, we are neither foolish nor in love.”
Julianna’s heart gave a little lurch at his teasing comment. No, they weren’t in love. Was it foolish to want a man she didn’t love? She did feel foolish, as if this brief encounter were indeed a play—a tragedy of epic proportions. Of course they weren’t in love and never would be.
She grew tense, but didn’t pull away. She’d made her bargain and must deal with any regrets on the morrow. It was too late to escape now, bound as she was by a thief’s honor.
“But I will swear to the constancy of my desire,” he promised, and gently kissed her forehead. “‘Lady by yonder blessed moon I swear,’” he quoted as he slid one hand up to cover her feverish, aching breast. She gasped and her legs felt shaky and weak. He wrapped his other arm around her back and tugged her hips into his. She felt it then, the hard, pulsing heartbeat between them. “I think perhaps you are as taken with desire, Juliet, as your Romeo.”
“Gentleman, by yonder blessed moon I swear,” Julianna misquoted, both hating and loving her breathless, uneven voice. She loved what he was doing to her, but she was trying so hard to appear experienced and she was afraid the fear and uncertainty in her voice would give her away.
Mr. Sharp laughed again. “Ah, Juliet, how you delight me.”