Something that kept him awake at night, devoured him during the day, made him mad with the absolute burning need to just see her. God help him, but the image of her that had lived in his mind's eye these last two years was suddenly vibrant and alive and seared into his heart with a kiss aboard the Maiden's Heart.
Thankfully, it was only a short drive to Redbourne House. The footman who greeted him seemed to think his name alone was sufficient grounds for entry and showed Julian to the grand salon, where two dozen guests were already gathered. Julian recognized only a handful, including his sister Ann, who smiled and nodded at him from across the room, Lords Dillbey and Cheevers, and naturally, the object of his great desire, whom his gaze found almost the moment he crossed the threshold.
She was at the other end of the exceedingly large salon speaking to old Lord Montfort. Arrested by the sight of her, Julian stepped to one side of the south doors, his gaze riveted on her. She wore a gown of royal blue trimmed in silver and worn off her shoulders in the current style. Her hair was artfully twisted, held in place by a silver ribbon. Small sapphires sparkled at her lobes, and a simple sapphire pendant rested just above the swell of her bosom.
He rather thought he could stand there all day and look at her, drink her in, and when she suddenly smiled at Montfort, Julian was amazed at how easily she seemed to illuminate everything around her. Phillip had said that once, in the Fairchild ballroom—she illuminates everything around her.
A sharp pain stabbed at his side.
Claudia glanced away from Montfort, her gaze scanning the crowd, passing over him . . . and then back again. Her smile faded slightly. She said something to Lord Montfort, nodded to a woman standing nearby, and started forward. Bracing himself, Julian clasped his hands behind his back, fastened the smile on his face, and tried not to enjoy so very much as he was the sight of her marching toward him.
She sailed right up and bobbed a curtsy so infinitesimal that a gnat would have taken umbrage. He, however, smiled and bowed low. He was, after all, a gentleman.
"And exactly how did you get in here?" she asked matter-of-factly.
With a quick, conniving glance about, he slyly beckoned her closer. She leaned forward—so close that he could smell the faint scent of her lavender perfume. "My feet," he murmured. "They come in quite handy at times such as this."
Claudia jerked backward; her brows snapped into a dark vee. "Oh, now that was highly amusing, sir. Unfortunately, an event such as this requires more than wit. It requires an invitation."
"I have one."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes. Ann's. I gathered it extended to me."
Claudia folded her arms across her middle, drumming slender fingers against one arm. "How very interesting. I could have sworn the invitation was addressed only to Lord and Lady Boxworth. I believe your so-called invitation is forfeit. I'm afraid you must pay for the privilege of entry now."
"Now that is extortion," he cheerfully informed her. A playful smirk lifted the corners of her mouth.
"And?"
Julian laughed. "All right, you have me. How much is this privilege?"
"One thousand pounds," she said, and pertly tilted her head back, waiting for him to balk.
Julian shrugged. "Very well."
Her eyes rounded with surprise. "You'll pay?"
"Yes, I will."
Claudia's stunned gaze burned a path from the top of his head to the tips of his patent leather shoes. "Honestly, I don't understand you," she whispered loudly. "What could you possibly hope to accomplish with such a sum?"
"I merely wanted to see you, Claudia, and I am happy to contribute to your cause. I am not an ogre."
"I never said you were an ogre," she responded, and flashed a demonic little smile. "I said you were a rake."
Julian chuckled, let his gaze roam her lush form, admiring the way the delectable, plump flesh of her bosom rose enticingly with every breath she took. "You took my advice,
Thankfully, it was only a short drive to Redbourne House. The footman who greeted him seemed to think his name alone was sufficient grounds for entry and showed Julian to the grand salon, where two dozen guests were already gathered. Julian recognized only a handful, including his sister Ann, who smiled and nodded at him from across the room, Lords Dillbey and Cheevers, and naturally, the object of his great desire, whom his gaze found almost the moment he crossed the threshold.
She was at the other end of the exceedingly large salon speaking to old Lord Montfort. Arrested by the sight of her, Julian stepped to one side of the south doors, his gaze riveted on her. She wore a gown of royal blue trimmed in silver and worn off her shoulders in the current style. Her hair was artfully twisted, held in place by a silver ribbon. Small sapphires sparkled at her lobes, and a simple sapphire pendant rested just above the swell of her bosom.
He rather thought he could stand there all day and look at her, drink her in, and when she suddenly smiled at Montfort, Julian was amazed at how easily she seemed to illuminate everything around her. Phillip had said that once, in the Fairchild ballroom—she illuminates everything around her.
A sharp pain stabbed at his side.
Claudia glanced away from Montfort, her gaze scanning the crowd, passing over him . . . and then back again. Her smile faded slightly. She said something to Lord Montfort, nodded to a woman standing nearby, and started forward. Bracing himself, Julian clasped his hands behind his back, fastened the smile on his face, and tried not to enjoy so very much as he was the sight of her marching toward him.
She sailed right up and bobbed a curtsy so infinitesimal that a gnat would have taken umbrage. He, however, smiled and bowed low. He was, after all, a gentleman.
"And exactly how did you get in here?" she asked matter-of-factly.
With a quick, conniving glance about, he slyly beckoned her closer. She leaned forward—so close that he could smell the faint scent of her lavender perfume. "My feet," he murmured. "They come in quite handy at times such as this."
Claudia jerked backward; her brows snapped into a dark vee. "Oh, now that was highly amusing, sir. Unfortunately, an event such as this requires more than wit. It requires an invitation."
"I have one."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes. Ann's. I gathered it extended to me."
Claudia folded her arms across her middle, drumming slender fingers against one arm. "How very interesting. I could have sworn the invitation was addressed only to Lord and Lady Boxworth. I believe your so-called invitation is forfeit. I'm afraid you must pay for the privilege of entry now."
"Now that is extortion," he cheerfully informed her. A playful smirk lifted the corners of her mouth.
"And?"
Julian laughed. "All right, you have me. How much is this privilege?"
"One thousand pounds," she said, and pertly tilted her head back, waiting for him to balk.
Julian shrugged. "Very well."
Her eyes rounded with surprise. "You'll pay?"
"Yes, I will."
Claudia's stunned gaze burned a path from the top of his head to the tips of his patent leather shoes. "Honestly, I don't understand you," she whispered loudly. "What could you possibly hope to accomplish with such a sum?"
"I merely wanted to see you, Claudia, and I am happy to contribute to your cause. I am not an ogre."
"I never said you were an ogre," she responded, and flashed a demonic little smile. "I said you were a rake."
Julian chuckled, let his gaze roam her lush form, admiring the way the delectable, plump flesh of her bosom rose enticingly with every breath she took. "You took my advice,
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