Julius's Passion (Regency Club Venus #4) - Carole Mortimer Page 0,19

most certainly do,” he assured softly, glancing down at her breasts. They quickly rose and fell as she grew aroused just from talking of their kiss.

Her clenched hand on the tabletop was another indication of her arousal, along with the increase in the heady perfume of roses and female musk.

Julius reached out to place his own hand over the top of her clenched one. “I could invite you up to my bedchamber right now, and your curiosity would compel you to agree.”

“No—”

“Yes.” Julius’s fingers tightened as she would have pulled her hand free of his grasp. “Once we were alone, I would slowly remove all your clothes and proceed to kiss and touch every deliciously bared inch of you.”

She gasped. “I must remain untouched until I am married.” Color flooded her cheeks.

“And I am experienced enough—mature enough,” he drawled pointedly, “to have no need to penetrate your innocence in order to give us both the pleasure and release we desire.”

She was barely breathing, her pupils blown so large that only a thin rim of blue was visible. “I would not allow it.”

“Of course you would.” Julius chuckled.

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Can you really…do that, while ensuring my virginity remains intact?”

“Do what?”

She glared. “You are deliberately making me say it!”

“Yes.” His gaze remained challenging.

Bethany drew in a deep breath. “Can you give us both pleasure without…without penetration?” Her cheeks were flushed a deep rose.

“Yes.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “I— It is— How?”

“In ways too numerous to mention,” he assured.

She swallowed. “Are all gentlemen in London as forward as you?”

Julius had been enjoying their flirtation. A pity, then, that the conversation had taken this turn, leaving him with no choice but to introduce a subject guaranteed to wipe the glow from Bethany’s eyes, the color from her cheeks, and the smile from her lips. “Is it because your brother was murdered in London ten years ago that you have chosen to avoid entering London Society?”

Bethany drew back with a pained gasp, her face paling. “How do you…? Who told you, and how long have you known my brother, James, was murdered?” The last was an accusation.

“No one needed to tell me, because at the time, all in Society were concerned when the young Earl of Ipswich met an early demise,” the earl spoke evenly. “Some out of sadness for his death at such a tender age, others because they wished to take the necessary precautions to ensure they did not meet the same fate.”

Bethany felt as if someone had landed a blow to her chest, robbing her of breath, which resulted in a feeling of lightheadedness.

She had been staying in London at Ipswich House with her uncle and brother on the day James was murdered. Her brother had said he was going out for the afternoon to visit his tailor. Bethany had asked to go with him, but he had ruffled her plaited curls and said no, but promised she could go with him another time.

There had never been another time.

Just hours later, two constables had knocked on the door to report that her brother had been seen being set upon by thugs before being thrown in the river.

Bethany remembered the hope she’d held that it was all a mistake, and that it wasn’t James who had been beaten at all. Or if he had, that he would manage to climb out of the river and any moment now, he would walk back through the front door of Ipswich House, complaining his clothes were ruined, and demand to know what all the wailing and tears were about.

He never had.

Three days after the attack, her uncle had been called to the mortuary to identify a body that had been dragged out of the Thames.

Bethany’s heart had broken completely when her uncle returned home an hour later to tell her the body was definitely her beloved James.

Was it any wonder that Bethany had refused to visit London ever again? In her mind, that city had taken the brother she adored from her.

She drew herself up to look coldly at Julius. “And which were you, one of the sad, or one concerned only for your own future welfare?”

His lids narrowed at her scoffing tone. “The wanton snuffing out of a young life is always cause for regret.”

“Regret!” Bethany repeated scathingly as she pushed her chair back noisily before standing and moving away from the table. “My brother was only sixteen years of age. Sixteen!” Her eyes glittered with