the ceiling, instructed Harvey where to pull over, and alighted from the carriage in front of the shop. Clasping her hands behind her back, she stopped in front of the large bowed windows, closely perusing the latest fabrics newly arrived from Holland. As she studied a blue silk, a shadow filled the corner of the window. Suddenly aware of someone directly behind her, Claudia started and whirled about, almost colliding with his brick wall of a chest.
Julian grinned, leaned over her shoulder to peer in the window, and casually remarked, "The royal blue would look very well on you. It is really the only color that could do full justice to the beauty of your eyes, I think."
Clapping a gloved hand over her thundering heart, Claudia gaped at him. "Are you following me?" she demanded.
He laughed a rich, deep laugh as he reached for her hand, carelessly peeling it away from her heart. "My love, if I were following you, I would choose a more enticing time and place, believe me." The corner of his mouth curved upward; his gaze dropped to her lips. "But never doubt that the moment you beckon, I will follow." And then he turned her hand over, found the little circle above the buttons where the material didn't meet, and kissed her wrist. Arrogantly, openly, and very leisurely, he kissed her wrist right there in the middle of Regent Street, in front of God, England, and a curious street sweeper who happened by.
A stream of fire spread up her arm and Claudia's heart was suddenly in her throat. "Y-you may rest assured, I shall never beckon a rake!" she shot back, yanking her hand from his.
Still wearing that lazy grin, Julian stepped back, dipped his hat with a bow, and said, "Don't be so certain of that. Good day, madam."
And he was gone.
With a moan, Claudia sagged against the shop front. Why wouldn't he just leave her be? She didn't want his attentions! She wanted nothing to do with him, and Lord knew that Rake wanted nothing more from her than a tumble in the hay! That was, after all, the only thing Julian Dane ever wanted from women!
She was really almost seventy-five percent certain of it.
Seven
This game of chase had become serious.
A bespectacled Julian stepped up into a coach emblazoned with the Kettering coat of arms and settled against the lush velvet squabs. Dressed in a coat of midnight blue and dove gray waistcoat and trousers, he felt a bit like a dandy in the middle of the afternoon—but then again, he rarely attended high teas, of all things. The invitation to this fundraising event was Ann's, really, but one he brazenly had determined extended to him. But now he was wondering why, exactly, he was doing this.
That was easy, wasn't it? For the moment, the alluring Claudia Whitney gave him something to think about other than Sophie's moping. Unfortunately for that little nitwit, Julian had learned from Aunt Violet that in his absence, Stanwood had paid not one but three calls, the last one more than an hour in duration. That discovery had prompted another row with Sophie that, ended with her refusing to come down to supper or speak to him at all.
All right, there was that, but there was also the plain truth that he was quite intrigued by this game.
How could he not be? Claudia was such an enigma! She returned his gifts with acerbic little notes that kept him chuckling for days afterward. When he had encountered her leaving Ann's one afternoon, she pretended not to see him, practically vaulting into Redbourne's coach like a circus acrobat even though he stood almost directly in front of her and wished her a good day. And she had flushed a lovely shade of pink when he had kissed her wrist on Regent Street before snapping at him. All in all, the woman was simply refusing to succumb to his charm.
And that was unheard of in this town.
Julian shifted uncomfortably against the squabs. Those were the reasons he was all dressed up like a Christmas goose in broad daylight_.__ . ._ but there was something else, too.
Julian grinned, leaned over her shoulder to peer in the window, and casually remarked, "The royal blue would look very well on you. It is really the only color that could do full justice to the beauty of your eyes, I think."
Clapping a gloved hand over her thundering heart, Claudia gaped at him. "Are you following me?" she demanded.
He laughed a rich, deep laugh as he reached for her hand, carelessly peeling it away from her heart. "My love, if I were following you, I would choose a more enticing time and place, believe me." The corner of his mouth curved upward; his gaze dropped to her lips. "But never doubt that the moment you beckon, I will follow." And then he turned her hand over, found the little circle above the buttons where the material didn't meet, and kissed her wrist. Arrogantly, openly, and very leisurely, he kissed her wrist right there in the middle of Regent Street, in front of God, England, and a curious street sweeper who happened by.
A stream of fire spread up her arm and Claudia's heart was suddenly in her throat. "Y-you may rest assured, I shall never beckon a rake!" she shot back, yanking her hand from his.
Still wearing that lazy grin, Julian stepped back, dipped his hat with a bow, and said, "Don't be so certain of that. Good day, madam."
And he was gone.
With a moan, Claudia sagged against the shop front. Why wouldn't he just leave her be? She didn't want his attentions! She wanted nothing to do with him, and Lord knew that Rake wanted nothing more from her than a tumble in the hay! That was, after all, the only thing Julian Dane ever wanted from women!
She was really almost seventy-five percent certain of it.
Seven
This game of chase had become serious.
A bespectacled Julian stepped up into a coach emblazoned with the Kettering coat of arms and settled against the lush velvet squabs. Dressed in a coat of midnight blue and dove gray waistcoat and trousers, he felt a bit like a dandy in the middle of the afternoon—but then again, he rarely attended high teas, of all things. The invitation to this fundraising event was Ann's, really, but one he brazenly had determined extended to him. But now he was wondering why, exactly, he was doing this.
That was easy, wasn't it? For the moment, the alluring Claudia Whitney gave him something to think about other than Sophie's moping. Unfortunately for that little nitwit, Julian had learned from Aunt Violet that in his absence, Stanwood had paid not one but three calls, the last one more than an hour in duration. That discovery had prompted another row with Sophie that, ended with her refusing to come down to supper or speak to him at all.
All right, there was that, but there was also the plain truth that he was quite intrigued by this game.
How could he not be? Claudia was such an enigma! She returned his gifts with acerbic little notes that kept him chuckling for days afterward. When he had encountered her leaving Ann's one afternoon, she pretended not to see him, practically vaulting into Redbourne's coach like a circus acrobat even though he stood almost directly in front of her and wished her a good day. And she had flushed a lovely shade of pink when he had kissed her wrist on Regent Street before snapping at him. All in all, the woman was simply refusing to succumb to his charm.
And that was unheard of in this town.
Julian shifted uncomfortably against the squabs. Those were the reasons he was all dressed up like a Christmas goose in broad daylight_.__ . ._ but there was something else, too.
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