Last Dance in London (Rakes on the Run #1) - Sydney Jane Baily Page 0,56

caught her, knee-deep in trouble.

There would be far more agreeable trouble that evening.

His was a magnificent bedroom, befitting an earl, she supposed. Before, she hadn’t seen it with welcoming lamps lit. The fire was barely visible behind an elegant fire screen and had hardly begun to remove the chill. She recalled the thick Persian rug under foot, but a small table set with claret, fruit, cheese, and bread rolls was now laid before the fire. She supposed that was for afterward, if they needed sustenance due to their ... exertions.

Shivering at the thought, Julia wondered what would happen next and how quickly.

As Jasper shut the door and twisted the key in the lock behind her, she turned her gaze toward the bed. A large mahogany four-poster was prominently centered on the wall to her right. It looked indulgent, luxurious, downright sensual, and almost medieval with a brocade canopy and matching hangings.

The satin cover had been turned down.

Dragging her gaze from it, her attention was snagged by a large wooden globe with no map painted upon it. Crossing the room to where it perched high on four gold-tipped feet, she inspected it.

Jasper was suddenly at her back, his warm body pressed against hers. Reaching around her, he swiveled one half of the top of the globe open to reveal a clever writing desk. Julia opened the other side. It was tidy inside and out with little drawers and cubbies. A few items were strewn on its surface, a couple gold coins, a medal of some sort with a royal ribbon attached, a pocket watch, and some pearl buttons.

“How curious,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“I don’t use it. It’s too small, and I prefer to work in my study, but I like the look of it.”

Then he turned her slowly in the circle of his arms. “Are you stalling? Or would you like to examine my armoire as well for its quality craftmanship?”

Not wanting to let her fears get the better of her, she blurted, “No, I think we should get started.”

“You think we should ... Oh!” he exclaimed, taken aback.

“Only to quell the anticipation, you understand,” she added.

“I do. In that case, your wish is my command.” Starting with her black beaver hat with its tassels and feathers, Jasper deftly withdrew the hatpins before placing them alongside it on the now open desk.

Julia let him shed her layers of clothing starting with her blue gown trimmed in black and her petticoat, and then he released her stays. Soon, she stood in only a knee-skimming, soft cotton chemise and stockings. Hugging herself, she blinked at him.

“Your turn,” she said softly.

JASPER HAD NEVER UNDERTAKEN such a calm seduction before. He couldn’t truly even call it such, since she’d presented herself for the taking. As he’d told her, he wasn’t usually in his own bedroom with a conquest, but in some rented room or a widow’s chamber or a courtesan’s apartment.

Moreover, it was odd not to be kissing hurriedly and throwing clothing along with caution to the far corners of the room, ending up as two heated bodies tangled in the bed linens.

Instead, he’d draped her gown and petticoat over the nearest chair as if he were her maid.

Shrugging out of his jacket and removing his cravat, braces, and shirt, he felt a little awkward under her unwavering scrutiny. Even Blumsey didn’t survey him so closely when preparing him for a ball.

“You have a fine-looking chest,” she offered, still hugging her arms around herself. “The perfect breadth, I think. And your arms are most appealing in their bulk.”

“Thank you.” He couldn’t recall a woman appraising him in such an open way before. He was half afraid next she would measure the length of his cock.

After kicking off the slippers he wore at home, he removed his stockings before facing her in his trousers, having eschewed his breeches for the less dressy ankle-length inexpressibles while at home.

Surprising him, Julia reached out and gently stroked the smattering of hair on his chest, tracing its path downward. With his gaze, he followed the movement of her fingertips until she stopped at his waist. He sucked in a breath at her bold touch, his member, which was already hard, stiffened further, jutting against the heavy twilled cotton.

And there it was. Within the space of a heartbeat, she had enflamed him beyond all reason.

As most men of his class, he wore no drawers, using the long tail of his shirt to protect his manhood. Thus,