Page 91 of Love and the Shameless Lady

Once again, she recalled what Philippe had said: Sir Julian is not what he seems.

“You can’t usually be yourself?”

“Can anyone? We all have personal façades that we maintain except in the most intimate of relationships. Your hard, indifferent exterior, for example, which you find difficult to maintain with your family.”

His assessments were disconcertingly accurate. “And you? What are you really like?”

“Not much different from what you see, but perhaps that’s because I have so few close relationships.” He cocked his head ruefully. “I’m going to have a hard time controlling my anger with Philippe, because he’s one of my oldest friends.”

That might explain Philippe’s ability to assess Julian, although it still didn’t explain what he’d meant. “You don’t want to lose that friendship, and yet you feel it’s your duty to report him.”

“Perhaps. It depends on the dictates of my conscience.”

“Aren’t duty and conscience the same?”

“I wish it were that simple.” A mournful note had crept into his voice. “We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

“There must be a way to work it out. There always is.” It occurred to her that she had just implied that there was a way to work out her own problem, too. She hoped so, more and more with every passing moment, here with Julian. Sitting together, talking, holding hands.

In bed.

“No more stalling, love. Get on with your story.”

“I wasn’t stalling. I—” Oh, very well, maybe she had been stalling. Maybe she’d hoped, in some small, cowardly part of her mind, that she would learn some deep, dark secret about Julian that would prevent her confiding in him.

He truly didn’t seem the deep-dark-secret sort. Reserved, certainly, but what of it? She took a resolute breath and soldiered on.

“At last I sneaked out at night to meet him. I took Snappish from the stables and rode to the Diving Duck.”

“Reggie let you ride there alone? Damn the fellow. Obviously he cared nothing for you and only for himself.”

“Yes, but how was I to know? At the time, it felt deliciously daring to set out on my own. At first it was exciting. Lots of kisses and caresses.” Daisy knew she would enjoy that part of the process. “Do you want to caress me?” she asked wistfully. “I mean, before we do more?”

“My dear girl, I want to caress and kiss and lick you all over.”

Heat exploded within her.

“But I won’t until I’m reasonably sure you won’t flinch and run away.”

She had to get this over with. She grabbed his hand and placed it on her breast. “I won’t run away.”

“No?” He palmed her breast gently, then rubbed his thumb across the hardened nipple. She shuddered with desire. “Are you sure?” he asked again, ruefully this time.

“Yes.” She pushed her breast into his hand again. “I like that. Well, unless you squeeze it hard. That hurts.”

“That’s what he did to you?”

“Not at first, but later, when he was angry.”

“He became angry with a beautiful woman in his bed . . .” Julian ceased his gentle caresses, frowning. “Ah, did you try to stop him? That might anger a man, but it doesn’t excuse him.”

“Not at first, but after an hour I’d had enough!”

“An hour?” Julian considered questioning her on the accuracy of this statement, but held his tongue.

“Yes, only an hour, damn you! I’m sorry I’m lacking in proper stamina, but that’s just the way it is. So you may leave now and find yourself a real woman, thank you very much.”

Appalled, he dropped his hand from her breast. What had the beast put her through? A virgin, her first time . . . “I’m not going anywhere.”