The Devil's Thief (23 page)

Alasdair
moved his face away from her hand. “Hil took exception to what happened between
us today.”

Julianna
felt a blush stain her cheeks. “You told him?” He nodded stiffly. “Why?”

“Because
I was a bastard to you and I wanted someone to tell me so.”

Julianna
digested that. “Why were you so angry with me?” she whispered, watching as she
moved her hand back to his arm, afraid of what she might see on his face.

He
was silent for long enough to make Julianna uncomfortable. She was about to
pull her hand away when he finally answered.

“The
why doesn’t
matter.
At least not right now. Let me
make it up to you and then we’ll talk.”

“You
don’t have to make it up to me. I know I should be outraged, but I liked it,”
she whispered. She looked up at Alasdair, feeling guilty and ashamed and aroused
all at once as she thought about their encounter behind the shed. “At least,
part of me did. I liked that you wanted me so much you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Dammit,
Julianna,” he said vehemently, gently shaking her. “I should have been able to
help myself, don’t you see? I am supposed to be a gentleman, and you are a
lady. I should be the one protecting you, not attacking you.” He let go and
tried to run his fingers through his hair but the kerchief was in the way.
Cursing again, he yanked the cloth off his head, freeing his bright, beautiful
hair.

Julianna
cupped his cheeks in her hands. “But, Alasdair, I don’t need protecting.
Especially not from you.” She ran her thumb across his full bottom lip. “You
didn’t hurt me. You pleasured me. Even as mad as you were, you didn’t hurt me,
and I knew you wouldn’t.”

“I
couldn’t.”

“I
know,” Julianna told him with a bittersweet smile. “I know.” She ran her hands through
that glorious hair of his and he groaned as if in pain. The next thing Julianna
knew, she was lying beneath him, the welcome weight of him pressing her into
the mattress, her hands pinned next to her head. When she looked up into
Alasdair’s conflicted face, she could see his desire and his vulnerability.

“Julianna,”
was all he said, and yet there was a wealth of thought and feeling contained in
that one word. She tugged her hands free easily and wrapped her arms around his
neck, pulling him close then kissing his mouth tenderly.

“Love
me, Alasdair, as you did that first night. When I was nothing but a silly, not-very-good
thief, and you were the not-so-innocent victim of my fumbling attempt at
crime.”

She
felt the smile on his lips as he kissed her. She opened her lips, inviting him
in.
 
In this, at least, they could
be completely honest with each other.

The
kiss was tender at first, but their need was too urgent, their desire too
strong. Tenderness became desperation in the swipe of a tongue, a moan of
relief rising in Julianna’s throat at the taste and feel of him. He tore his
mouth away just as she was about to deepen the kiss.

“I’ve
changed my mind. We should talk first,” he said in a voice roughened by desire.

Julianna
wanted none of that. She knew she had to tell him she’d lost the pearl for
good, that she could not get it back for him, and she dreaded it. She ripped at
his loose cravat. “Why? When talk may change our actions, but our actions will
not change what we have to say?”

Alasdair
shook his head, his brows knit in confusion as his hands got in her way. “I
have no idea what you just said. This is why we should talk first. Why does my
brain cease to function the minute I touch you?”

Julianna
paused. “You, too? How very odd.” She yanked his cravat from around his neck.
“Does this happen with every woman you’re with?” she asked right before she leaned
in and sucked his neck.

He
jerked away from her and tore his shirt over his head. He threw it away
recklessly. “You’re right. Love first, talk later.”

“Yes,
yes,” she said impatiently, “after.”

He
tore the blankets off her. “What is that?” he exclaimed.

Julianna
looked down with a sheepish expression. “My nightdress.” It was white linen,
with long sleeves and a high, buttoned neck.

Alasdair
growled low in his throat and she shivered. She loved when he did that. “Remove
it,” he ordered.

She
lost only two buttons in her haste to divest herself of the now-hated garment.
When she was naked, she reached for him but he stopped her.

“No.
Just lay down.” She frowned at him, wanting to touch him, but he shook his
head. “Not yet. It occurs to me that I didn’t handle our previous encounters
very well. I have been a poor guide in the art of love, I’m afraid.” He had a
woeful expression on his face. “Just lay down and let me make that up to you.
Please?”

His
voice was rough and low, and she found she couldn’t deny him. And he had said
please, after all. She lay back slowly, unsure of what to do with her arms. He
reached down and helped her straighten her legs, but she couldn’t close them
because he was between them.

“Put
your arms up,” he told her, “like this.” He raised his bent arms until his
hands were beside his ears.

Julianna
imitated him, although her hands rested on the bed, not in the air. She felt
completely exposed, absolutely vulnerable, and irresistibly sensual. Alasdair
obviously agreed.

“Perfect,”
he told her with satisfaction. “You are perfect.” And for the first time in her
life she felt that way.

*
         
*
         
*

Alasdair
felt as if he were in a dream. He’d expected recriminations. Some weeping.
Abject misery and pitiful groveling on his part.
Penance and denial and punishment.
Instead he’d received
absolution and admittance to heaven. He thought he ought to rush before she
changed her mind, but she was a feast for a sinner, and he was starving for
her. She laid herself out for him, complete trust on her face and her desire radiating
in the air between them. She wanted him however she could have him. Why? He
still wasn’t sure. But he believed now that it was no act—this was honest
passion between them.

He
started at her feet, just because he could, and because it was his version of
groveling at them. He wanted to taste every inch of her. When his mouth touched
the arch of her foot, she gasped.

“Oh
my God,” she breathed as her back arched on the bed. “It never occurred to me
that that would feel good.”

He
just laughed and paid homage to all ten of her delectable toes. By the time he
was done she was panting.

“Alasdair,
please,” she begged.

“What?” he asked languidly right before licking a path from
her ankle to her knee.
She moaned.

“I
want more.” She sounded so disgruntled he laughed.

“You’re
not enjoying it?”

“Of
course I am,” she snapped. “Good God, I’m nearly insensible. Shouldn’t I be
harder to please?” He nibbled on the back of her knee and she groaned. “But I
just can’t manage to be harder,” she complained pitifully.

Alasdair
had to forcefully hold back his laughter. “I can,” he told her with a grin.

She
raised her head and glared at him. “Prove it.”

Oh,
she was clever. “No.”

Her
head arched back and she cursed as he bit her thigh. “I hope you are not
planning to pass anything by on your way up here,” she warned menacingly.

“You
are becoming a very managing female, Miss Harte,” he admonished her. “Let me
assure you that I have things well in hand.” He glided his hand up her leg onto
her stomach, and down between her thighs. She was soft and slick and he had to
force
himself
to go slowly.

She
gasped. “I have always been a managing female. That, sir, is not a new
development. And it is not your ability to handle things I question,” she said
breathlessly. “But rather exactly how you plan to do so.”

He
licked the crease between her leg and hip. Damn, she smelled good. Better than
anything he’d ever smelled before. Lavender, woman, and arousal all mixed up
together into a lusty perfume.

“I
am becoming more and more confident of your abilities,” she groaned as she
thrust her hips up.

He
chuckled. “Yes, I rather thought you might be.”

When
he finally tasted her, he realized he hadn’t been teasing only her but himself,
too. This was right. Why hadn’t he seen that before? Over the last week he’d
been blinded by jealousy and anger, but this was his Juliet, this lusty,
laughing girl in his arms. The woman he’d become so enamored of in the dark of
night, the one he’d searched all of London for. What was a bloody pearl
compared to this?

She
opened her legs wide, exposing every secret she had to him. She spread her
fingers through his hair and gripped his head and held him to her. And he loved
it. He loved how sensuous she was, how much she craved the things he did to
her.

“Alasdair,”
she moaned, but he heard more than just his name. He heard her desire, her
surrender,
her
pleasure.

He
poured his heart and soul into the deep kisses he was lavishing on her. God,
she tasted decadent. He drank in her spicy essence with her muffled cries. He
lost himself in her; lost track of time and all the things that still remained
unsaid between them. All he knew was
her
. Everything
was Julianna.

“Oh,
Alasdair,” she sobbed, clutching him with legs and hands, her whole body shaking
with pleasure.

He needed
her desperately. He had to have her, now, tomorrow, the day after, next week,
next year. He couldn’t imagine not being this desperate for her, ever. Hadn’t
he been since that first night?

When
her tremors slowed, he slid up her body, his mouth tasting her stomach and
breasts. He settled between her legs, torturing himself with the heat of her
against his still-clothed lower half. Her expression was dazed, but beneath it
he saw tenderness and passion, for him. He realized in that moment that he
craved those emotions from her as much as he craved her body.

*
         
*
         
*

Alasdair
pressed against her, so hot and thick and delicious, even through his trousers—everything
she’d been craving and so much more. This was the man who had shown her what
sexual intimacy was, the man who had made her laugh and cry out in the depths
of passion. The angry, disillusioned Alasdair was gone and her Alasdair was
back. How she wished she could have him always. The thought triggered a memory
of her conversation with her stepmother.
If
she was with child, she could have him
. But she didn’t want him like that.

“We
can’t,” she gasped.

He
rolled off her and covered his eyes with his arm. “I know,” he groaned. “And
it’s sheer torture.” He turned his head and moved his arm to look at her and
she saw how much he wanted her. “But you’re right, we can’t.
For
a multitude of reasons.
Although, I certainly wouldn’t regret having to
make apologies to you again tomorrow.”

Julianna
crawled over on top of him and he groaned. She pressed her breasts into his
firm chest, the hair there tickling her skin in an erotic caress. “Don’t be an
idiot. No apologies were necessary.” She bit his earlobe. He grunted and palmed
the cheeks of her bottom, squeezing them tight and pressing his hard length
against her stomach. They both groaned in frustration, and then she pulled away
with a sigh. “But we can’t risk it again, Alasdair. I could be with child, and
if I’m not already, we don’t need to keep acting foolishly.” They were some of
the hardest words she’d ever spoken because, God, she wanted him in the worst
way. She pressed her forehead to his. “I want you, Alasdair, make no mistake.
And I am sorry for starting us down this path when we can’t reach the desired
destination.”

He
shook his head. “No, don’t be sorry. That’s not why I came here tonight.” He
wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, his hands tucked safely against her
sides. “I don’t ever again want to force you to do anything, Juli.”

“I’ve
wanted to do everything we’ve ever done together,” she told him in
exasperation. “Perhaps I may have wanted to do it a bit differently, but I
wanted it.” She paused thoughtfully. “Well, perhaps not the fighting. I could
have done without that.”

He
hugged her tightly and buried his lips against her neck as he rolled them over.
Resting his weight on his forearms, he rose over her. She felt cherished,
cocooned in desire and his tender care. “I don’t want to fight with you,
either. This is much better, I think.”

She
wrapped her arms around his waist and wiggled her lower body until one of his
legs slid between hers. Then she thrust up against his muscled thigh. “Mmm, I
think so, too.”

He
laughed, but it was a bit shaky. “I’m trying to do the right thing here. Could
you perhaps help me with that? Just a little?”

She
held him tightly, pressing her sex against his thigh. She sought his mouth and
he gave it to her, inviting her voracious kiss. She wrapped her tongue around
his and sucked gently and Alasdair moaned. The sensation caused a shiver to run
across her shoulders. She’d never felt so decadent before. She moaned back and
broke the kiss. “I want you, Alasdair, I do. I can’t settle for less.”