The Devil's Thief, page 2
“I have said I will if that is what you desire.” He could see that his answer didn’t satisfy her.
“Say it,” she demanded. “Say, ‘I will give you the pearl tomorrow morning after you have lain with me tonight.’ Give me your word of honor.”
Ah, so the immoral little cat hoped to tangle him in his own honor, did she? Well, he had no qualms about making promises to thieves in the night. “You have my word of honor, my dear. I will give you the pearl in the morning after you have lain with me tonight.” He knew the words were a lie even as he spoke them. But he also knew that the money and gifts he would give her in the morning would more than make up for it.
He took a step closer and saw her eyes widen. Her gaze seemed to be in constant motion, as if she was too nervous to let it alight on any one part of his exposed person. He found it charming regardless of whether it was true or a performance for his benefit.
“But you will do more than lie with me, my dear,” he whispered, noting with satisfaction the shiver along her shoulders. She licked her lips again, and Alasdair went from firm interest to hard desire as he followed the path of her tongue along the plump folds of her lips, now wet and glistening in the moonlight. “I will make you cry tonight, little thief. I will make you moan and beg and cry out with pleasure.” With each word her eyes grew larger and more alarmed. “Now, are you still willing to make this bargain?”
* * *
Julianna was terrified. Because some part of her, some clearly perverse and heretofore unknown part of her, desperately wanted this beautiful naked man to make her cry and beg. But it wasn’t about what Julianna wanted, was it? It was about what she needed. And she needed that pearl. She had no other options. It was too late to look for funds elsewhere. And if she didn’t pay the solicitor within the week, the children would all be out on the street. She had worked so desperately to shield them from the harsh realities of their life, to provide a safe home and a happy future for them. All would be lost if she lacked the courage to accept this bargain. Truly, it would ruin her if she failed to produce the rent. Ruin her chance at independence, her chance to prove she was capable of taking care of herself and others. The failure would hang over her head, branding her incompetent and unworthy. And that would be the ultimate failure on her part. She would lose the children and so much more.
She nibbled on her fingertip as she debated with herself. Her virginity certainly hadn’t ever helped her up until now. After all, it wasn’t as if she was saving herself for someone. True, she was untouched, but that had been by choice. She had never wanted to give herself to any man before, either in bed or in matrimony. She very much doubted that would change after a night in bed with Mr. Sharp, who most certainly did not have matrimony on his mind. If she was honest with herself, she’d admit her attraction to him was part of the reason she’d decided on this mad scheme. Surely this weakness she harbored for him would pass if she surrendered to it for one night? Then she could move forward, take care of business, and forget Mr. Sharp entirely. It was a business proposition, nothing more. She had seen countless men and women, her father included, walk away from affairs such as this without a backward glance. She knew Mr. Sharp had done so in the past. She saw no reason why she couldn’t do the same.
But could she trust his word? That was the real question. Could she trust that he would live up to his side of the bargain? And could she live with herself after it was over, after she had sold her body for the price of a pearl? Well, an incredibly beautiful, valuable pearl, but still.
She could feel his eyes on her, measuring her, tempting her, seducing her. She bit her lip in panicked indecision and watched his eyes narrow just a bit more as the rise and fall of his chest lost a step in the cadence of his breathing.
With amazement she realized he really did want her. This might be a diversion for him, a meaningless encounter, but he really did want her. Why? He didn’t recognize her. For all he knew she was nothing but an immoral thief. And yet he wanted her. Did he even know what she looked like? It was dark enough in the room that she could make out only the basic outline of his features. If she hadn’t seen him countless times before, she wouldn’t know the blue of his eyes, the gleaming blond of his hair. So what did he see that intrigued him?
It is what he thinks me to be. He thought her a thief, a trickster, a criminal. It was why he’d proposed the bargain. He thought she was experienced, he’d said as much. He thought she was a woman of the streets. She almost laughed aloud. She knew her way around a lock, it was true, but she hadn’t learned that on the streets. Oh, no. She’d learned that in the drawing rooms and country houses of the glittering society in which he moved so effortlessly. He had no idea who she was, none at all. And that was a good thing. She worked very hard to blend into the background, disguising the real Julianna behind a bland facade. That way no one would take an interest in her. It was a habit she’d learned as a child, so as not to interfere with her father’s thieving or romancing. She’d grown to like the anonymity of it. Now her disguise gave her the freedom to do as she chose while society promenaded past her, uncaring about who she was or what she did. Clearly Mr. Sharp had walked past as uncaring as everyone else.
But tonight he cared. Tonight she would drop all disguises and, for the first time in her life, she would be herself and take what she wanted, as well as get what she needed.
“I accept,” she whispered the words as she closed her eyes tightly, her stomach flipping, though not unpleasantly, at the risk she was taking.
Chapter Two
“Ah, delightful,” he murmured in a satisfied tone. “It took you so long to think about it that I was beginning to worry a little. Surely that was more than a moment.”
Julianna jumped as she felt his hand close gently around her upper arm. Her eyes flew open and met his amused gaze. “In the scheme of things, I believe it was but a moment,” she said breathlessly, trying to act normal, as if she did this sort of thing all the time.
“I would rather not waste even a moment in thought tonight,” he said in a dark tone that made Julianna’s mouth dry up. Then his words sank in.
A nervous giggle escaped from Julianna. “You don’t want me to think? You want me to behave like a mindless idiot?”
Mr. Sharp frowned. “Perhaps I did not phrase that correctly.”
“I certainly hope not,” Julianna teased. She was proud of her bravado. She even sounded a little like a loose woman.
“What I meant was I want to spend every moment fucking, not wasting time discussing it.” He was sounding a little like that annoyed schoolmaster again, and Julianna would have grinned had she not been shocked senseless by his casual use of such a crude word. Good Lord, that is what they were going to do, was it not? Fuck. The word was deliciously low and crass, and rather frightening. Her pulse was racing and a chill raced down her back. Was she really going to do this?
She allowed him to pull her close and press her hard against him. He smelled wonderful. Like … man, she supposed. It was odd not to smell linen water, or tobacco, or the myriad other scents that attached themselves to a man’s clothes, masking the wonderful smell she was deeply inhaling. She smelled spice, and heat. Did heat have a smell?
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 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 throughout her youth. 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. Julianna 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 Julianna was enjoying 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 suck on her all night. She felt wicked and hot 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 Julianna’s 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. Julianna 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, 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.”
Without warning he swooped down and his lips covered hers. Julianna’s mouth flew open in surprise and Mr. Sharp pressed his tongue inside. For a moment she was immobile with shock and then her senses were flooded with the taste and textures of his kiss. He tasted even better than he smelled. Like warm, sweet whiskey and comfits. His lips were soft and moist, his breath hot, his tongue smooth and wild as it swirled through her mouth, tasting her as she was tasting him. He pulled her closer and his hand closed tighter upon her breast, the pressure creating a pleasure she’d never thought possible. The sound she made was more whimper than moan, a sound of utter surrender to what he was doing, to what he was making her feel. It was madness and she wanted more—more of this, more of him.
Julianna wasn’t sure what he expected her to do, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and finally buried her hands in those sinfully soft curls. It was almost too much; the pleasure and taste of his kiss, the touch of his hands, the feel of his hair, the heat of his skin. She gave in to it, relinquishing herself to her senses. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, suddenly ravenous for him. She wanted him to feel it, too. She wanted him to throw caution and sanity aside for a taste of her.
Mr. Sharp moaned and Julianna felt that thrill of power again, the power that came from being desired. She pressed against him, her breast in his palm, her mons now pressed against his hard length. He dipped and moved slightly and his leg slid between hers, and Julianna had to tear her mouth from his to gasp at the pleasure.
“Juliet, Juliet,” he panted. “I can’t wait. I must have you. Now.”
Yes, yes, was all she could think. Now. She wanted all of him, wanted to feel all of him, touch all of him, now.
Chapter Three
With a suddenness that shocked her, he broke their embrace and stepped away. She stumbled and he caught her, but it wasn’t until he grabbed her shirt and yanked the offending garment over her head that she understood what he was doing. Her kerchief came off, too, and some of the pins in her hair came loose. She felt several thick locks of hair fall from their imprisonment, tumbling down to her shoulders. He paused, panting heavily, and stared at her.
Julianna had no desire to hide from him. She knew she was well formed, although no beauty. But here in the dark with him she felt beautiful, and she could tell from the way he stared at her that he thought so, too. One hand reached tentatively for a lock of hair that curled against her breast. She was still covered by her chemise, but the linen was thin and no barrier to the brush and heat of his fingers as he caressed her hair.
“What color is it?” he asked quietly.
Julianna cocked her head to the side and looked down at his hand against her. She swallowed audibly. “Brown,” she whispered.
“Not just brown,” he told her, pulling slowly on the lock of hair. It straightened until she could feel the pressure at her scalp, until she stepped closer to him to ease the ache. “Is it chestnut brown, or golden brown, or so deep brown it’s almost black?” He sounded as he had earlier, as if he were talking to himself as much as her. “Is it the rich brown of the earth, or the red-brown of cinnamon?” When she was close enough he raised the lock of hair to his nose and sniffed deeply. “Lavender.” He sounded bemused. “You smell as fresh as spring.”
