Lucien’s Gamble(20)
Author: Sylvia Day

Lucien remained by the door with the greatest of effort. "If I told you I loved you, would you believe me?"

"Lucien…"

"Haven’t you wondered why your brother has allowed me to see you?"

"Well, yes…"

"Extortion."

Julienne blinked.

"He owes me a great deal of money. I leveraged it against him to get what I want

—time with you."

She sank back into the chair.

"I warned you I wasn’t honorable, my love. I told you I wasn’t a gentleman. I’ll do whatever it takes to win you. Anything at all. I have no scruples or morals to hold me back." Lucien watched her closely. "Now, if I told you I love you, would you believe me?"

"I don’t know," she breathed. "But I want to." She held out a hand to him, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

He reached her in two strides and pulled her into his arms. Heat swirled around them, as did endless hunger. He would never have enough of her, would always crave her. "I need you, Julienne."

Her fingers entwined in his hair. "I’m here, my love."

"Not just now. Forever." His mouth traveled down her neck. "You are mine. You belong to me. I won’t allow Fontaine to have you." He tugged at her bodice, releasing her br**sts, then laved her n**ples until she clawed at his back.

"Marry me," he urged against her breast.

"Love me," she countered breathlessly.

"Sweetheart," Lucien said, smiling, "I already do."

Chapter Twelve

Lucien watched Hugh La Coeur pace behind his desk in Montrose Hall. Unlike his own spacious and airy office, Montrose’s study was paneled in dark walnut, with parquet floors covered in Aubusson rugs. With red drapes so dark in color as to be almost black, the room was oppressive and forbidding, nothing like the jovial, irresponsible man who owned it.

Leaning back a little farther in his chair, Lucien released his breath in a quiet rush. Unfortunately, this meeting was going exactly as he had anticipated.

"You’re daft!" Hugh cried. "You cannot marry Julienne. It’s just not done, I tell you!"

"I realize that," Lucien replied calmly.

"Then why are you here?"

With endless patience, he repeated his request. "To ask for her hand and discuss the settlements with you. I am prepared to be generous."

Hugh shook his head. "Damnation! You can’t purchase a bride."

"For God’s sake," Lucien muttered in exasperation. "I am not attempting to buy Julienne."

Montrose leaned over the desk, his palms flat on the surface. "Why my sister?

Why not one of the other debutantes out this Season?"

"My lord, you are under the false impression that I merely wish to acquire a Sylvia Day – Bad Boys Ahoy!

wife. One of the benefits of being untitled is that I have no need to wed. I am not required to sire heirs to carry on a family name."

"Then why are you here, damn it?"

Lucien didn’t have time for this. "We’ve already established why I’m here. Now here is the proposed settlement." He tossed the thick legal contract onto the desk.

Hugh picked it up and flipped through it, his eyes widening. "You keep Julienne’s dowry, but I manage it for you. I will make investments as I deem appropriate for the next six months, after which I will turn the balance over to you. I’ve opened an account in your sister’s name, and I’ve deposited funds equal to her dowry for her own personal use. She will also receive an allowance, the amount of which is detailed in the agreement."

Hugh found the number and paled. "Good God, this is extraordinary. You must be rich as Croesus."

"You will meet with me in my office every Tuesday and Thursday morning for the next six months. I’m going to teach you about money, Montrose. How to make it, and how to keep it."

"Preposterous," Hugh cried in outrage. "I cannot—"

"Hold your tongue," Lucien ordered, in a tone that brooked no refusal. "Your blasted pride got you into this mess. I’ll bail you out this one time, Montrose. I’ve already paid all of your creditors. But I shall have a wife now and, God willing, children. I won’t waste their inheritance on you. You will learn the skills I can teach you." Lucien watched the young earl flush with embarrassment and relented, slightly. "You were only ten when you came into your title. I don’t blame you for feeling overwhelmed. But I won’t allow your irresponsibility to continue. It’s time to grow up."

Hugh dropped into his chair, the hand holding the agreement falling carelessly Sylvia Day – Bad Boys Ahoy!

into his lap. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, his expression dazed.

"I thought that would be obvious. I’m madly in love with Julienne. You must take care of yourself so she can cease worrying about you and concentrate on me."

Montrose sighed. "Have you already paid your addresses to her?"

"I have."

"Does she return your affections?"

Lucien nodded, his heart still light with wonder. "By some undeserved blessing, she does." His voice softened. "I promise to care for her. She’ll never want for anything. I’ll adore her and cherish her until the end of my days."

"You’ll have to. She’ll have nothing else. I will love her regardless, but Society…" Hugh took a fortifying breath. "Congratulations are in order then, Remington."

Lucien tilted his head in acknowledgment. Inside he sighed with relief as the Earl of Montrose reached for his quill.

Julienne waited in the master bedroom of Lucien’s sumptuous mansion in Mayfair. They had stayed only an hour at the small wedding celebration, both of them eager to return to their own home and spend long-awaited time alone. The carriage ride had been spent sharing loving kisses and plans for their future.

She smiled in remembrance. Who would have guessed the heart inside the rake could be so tender?

And their home… Lord, it was every bit as elegant and opulent as she had expected it to be. She was now mistress of this beautiful residence, and she took great delight in anticipating receiving callers here.

Despite Lucien’s misgivings, Julienne was hopeful that they would not be the Sylvia Day – Bad Boys Ahoy!

social outcasts he expected they would be. Some very prominent guests had attended their wedding, including the Marquess of Fontaine, the Duke of Glasser, and Lucien’s brother, Charles, the Marquess of Haverston.

Fontaine had promised to call on them and to urge his sister and her friends to do the same. Julienne’s godmother, Lady Canlow, intended to gather together Polite Society’s most powerful matrons to put their efforts toward making them acceptable. It wouldn’t be easy, and a positive outcome could never be guaranteed, but they would try. And if their efforts didn’t meet their aspirations, Julienne truly didn’t care that much. Lucien loved her. That was all that mattered.

She’d never wanted a boring existence anyway, and life with her domesticated pirate would be anything but.

The bedroom door opened. She watched as her husband walked in and turned the key, locking out the world at large.

He leaned against the door with a smile. "You’re nak*d."

She pointed toward the end of the bed. "It seemed pointless to wear that."

Lucien looked at the filmy night rail slung over the back of a chair. He grinned and looked back at her. "Are you nervous?"

"No," she denied, a little too quickly.

"Well, I am."

Her eyes widened. "You are?"

"Of course I am. You’re the last woman I’ll ever make love to, and you’re a virgin. What if I bungle the first time, and you never want me to touch you again?" He shuddered in horror at the thought.

Julienne’s mouth hung open for a moment, and then she fell over laughing. "Oh, heavens, Lucien. That’s ridiculous."

She saw the heartbreaking tenderness in his gaze, which was all the more poignant blended with the devilish curve of his smile.

"Feel better now?" he asked gently.

And then she understood. "You were teasing me," she accused without heat, her heart racing madly that this resplendently wicked man was now hers. Forever.

"Relaxing you a bit," he corrected. "You looked tense when I came in." Lucien strolled toward the bed, untying his cravat. The rest of his clothing was hastily discarded. Then he was pressing her into the bed, his body hard and beautifully built.

"We must set some ground rules here, my lady." His kissed the tip of her nose.

"First of all, I do all of the touching." He covered her protest with his hand. "I’ve needed you too long; I won’t last if you touch me. For the rest of our lives, you can touch me all you want, whenever you want, but not this first time."

He waited until she nodded her acquiesce and then removed his hand, sliding it downward between her br**sts, before letting it come to rest on her hip.

"Second, it may be painful. You’re very small, and I’m fairly large." He bit back a smile at her choked laugh. "But I’ll pleasure you, my love. I promise you that."

"I know you will," she said, loving him even more for his reverent approach to her first time.

"And last but not least, I love you, my wife." He rested his forehead against hers.

"With every fiber of my being, I adore you. I intend to cherish you and worship you forever." He brushed kisses against her mouth. Slow, sweet kisses that skillfully stoked her ardor. "I thank you for becoming my wife."