She pressed her lips together. "I'll try to be quiet but-ohhhh-you're making it extremely difficult." She glided her hand down his chest, over his abdomen, and his muscles jumped. "I want to touch you, too."

He pressed his erection against her hip to thwart her eager hand. Bloody hell, it was all he could do not to come as it was. One touch from her, and he'd explode in a heartbeat.

"Not now," he said against her lips. He eased one finger into her tight sheath to distract her and had to grit his teeth to contain the growl that rose in his throat. By God, she was tight. And so damn wet. And hot. And soft. And he was so damn hard he was going to lose his mind. More, damn it. He wanted more. Now. Now.

He slipped his hand from her body and, ignoring her sound of protest, moved to kneel between her splayed thighs. Heart pounding as if he'd sprinted to Bow Street and back, he impatiently pushed her gown up to her waist. Quickly unfastened her drawers. Grimly noted that his hands were far from steady.

Desperate need unlike anything he'd ever experienced grabbed him in a vise. He yanked her thin cotton drawers down and off her legs, not pausing or caring when the delicate material tore. If he'd had the mind to do so, he would have been appalled at his lack of control, but he was beyond caring about anything save the dark, wild, reckless need clawing at him.

The instant he'd tossed aside her ruined drawers, he set his hands on her raised knees and urged her legs apart. Damp golden curls surrounded her glistening sex. He inhaled sharply at the sight, and his head filled with the musky tang of her arousal mixed with the intoxicating scent of vanilla. Bloody hell, it was the most delicious fragrance he'd ever smelled. Slipping his hands beneath her, he raised her hips and dipped his head.

Julianne bit her lips together to stifle the cry of surprise and shocking carnal pleasure that begged to escape. The sight of Gideon's dark head buried between her thighs alone was enough to wring a shout of delight from her. But what he was doing with his mouth… his lips… dear God, his tongue. His fingers. All of them relentless. Teasing, licking, flicking, delving, driving her mad. Helpless to do otherwise, she undulated against his mouth, desperately seeking more of the addictive pleasure. Her hands fisted against the carpet, her body tightening, coiling, straining, searching for an answer that remained just out of reach.

Then he performed some sort of magic with his fingers and mouth, and it was as if she'd been tossed into a storm of indescribable pleasure. An endless moan she couldn't contain escaped her as pulsing sensation engulfed her. When the spasms subsided, she lay gasping, boneless, dazed, her breaths coming in short, ragged puffs. Dear God, now she knew precisely what a few swipes of the tongue could accomplish.

Magic.

She felt Gideon gently lower her legs to the rug where they simply splayed open in utter, lax abandon. Felt him shift to lean over her, then his warm hand cupping her face. The pad of his thumb slowly brushing over her bottom lip.

"Julianne."

Her name breezed across her face, and with an effort she dragged her heavy eyelids open. And found herself staring into dark, intense eyes that seemed to reach inside and touch her soul.

She raised an unsteady hand and brushed back the dark lock of hair that fell across his furrowed brow. And murmured the word that had haunted her every thought for the past two months. "Gideon."

"Are you… all right?"

"I'm… I don't quite know how to describe it." She traced her fingers over the stark panes of his face, marveling even more at the fact that she could touch him so freely than at the extraordinary way he'd made her feel. "Utterly limp, but in the most delightful way."

"I didn't hurt you?"

"No." Worry suffused her. "Did I hurt you?"

A whiff of amusement entered his eyes. Leaning down, he brushed his mouth over hers. "No. You were…" He lifted his head, and his gaze drifted slowly over her. When his eyes met hers once more all traces of humor were gone. "Perfect," he whispered. "You were perfect. But-"

She laid her fingers on his lips, halting his words. "Please don't say you're sorry this happened. Because I'm not."

He lightly grasped her wrist and after pressing a quick kiss to her palm, moved her hand away. "Very well, I won't say I'm sorry. But that doesn't change the fact that it shouldn't have happened."

He abruptly sat up. Without ceremony he reached out and tugged up her bodice over her breasts that felt swollen and sensitive. Once she was covered, he stood then helped her do the same. She felt slightly unsteady on her feet and grasped the mantel for support.

Frowning, he bent down and scooped up her ripped drawers along with a handful of hairpins then shook his head. Muttered something that sounded very much like, What the bloody hell was I thinking? and raked his free hand through his hair. "We need to set you back to rights," he said in a low, urgent tone. "Now. Before anyone comes-"

A low woof from the doorway chopped off his words. They both turned. Caesar was on his feet, staring intently down the corridor. Princess Buttercup stood beside him, giving her best imitation of a fierce growl. Above the canine noise Julianne heard the unmistakable sound of her mother's imperious voice.

"…cannot credit that such a disturbance occurred, Winslow."

"You should have sent for us immediately." Her father's icy words followed by his heavy footfalls crossing the foyer's marble floor sent her stomach careening toward her shoes.

In the blink of an eye Gideon shoved her ruined drawers inside his shirt, then plucked her up and set her on the settee where she landed with a bounce.

He tossed the hairpins onto her lap. "Shove those into your hair," he commanded in a low, taut voice. "Doesn't matter if it's messy."

Trying not to panic, she scooped up her tangled curls and stabbed in pins while he snatched up his waistcoat. He jabbed his arms through the openings and buttoned it with a steady-fingered dexterity she couldn't help but admire, especially as she was shaking all over.

As he shrugged into his jacket, he ordered, "Swoon. And be damn convincing about it."

Swoon? Why, she'd never swooned in her life! But one look at his tight expression had her understanding his command. She nodded and quickly arranged herself on the settee.

Peeking one eye open, she watched him stride across the room and lay a hand on Caesar, who stopped growling at his master's touch.

"Winslow, fetch some hartshorn," Gideon called, his voice filled with urgency as he ran into the corridor. "Quickly! Lady Julianne has fainted. Ah, Lady Gatesbourne, how fortunate you're here. I'm afraid I've little experience in these matters."

Rapid footsteps approached. Julianne heard her mother gasp and her father mutter, "Ridiculous, foolish gel."

Seconds later Julianne's mother patted her cheeks in a none-too-gentle manner. "What happened?" her mother asked in a sharp voice. "Winslow told us in the foyer what occurred this evening but said Julianne seemed quite recovered."

"She did," Gideon said. "We were drinking tea, and all seemed well, but when we began discussing the evening's events, she became agitated. Said something about feeling utterly limp, then just like that"-he snapped his fingers-"she went down like a tenpin. I tried to revive her, but she didn't respond. That's when I dashed into the corridor for Winslow."

Just then Julianne heard a breathless Winslow rush into the room. "Here's the hartshorn, my lady."

Julianne had managed to remain unresponsive while her mother tapped her face, shook her shoulders, and rubbed her wrists, but one whiff of the powerfully unpleasant hartshorn had her nose twitching in protest. Putting on what she prayed was a convincing performance, she rolled her head from side to side, enough, she prayed, to explain her disheveled coif. Then she groaned and blinked her eyes open.

"She's come around," her mother said, passing the hartshorn back to Winslow. "Bring some damp cloths and a glass of water," she instructed the butler who instantly departed to do her bidding. Her mother then turned her attention back to Julianne. "Are you all right?"

Julianne blinked several more times then frowned. "Of course, Mother. How are you?"

"Very well. However, I am not the one who swooned."

Julianne widened her eyes. "Swooned? Me?"

Mother nodded and pursed her lips. "I'm afraid so."

"Surely not. I never swoon."

"Well, you did. If you could see yourself you'd know it's true." Her mother's appraising gaze swept over her. "You look a fright."

Julianne raised her hand and slowly pushed back a wayward curl. "How… distressing." She cast her gaze around the room, noting her father's thunderous scowl, then looked at Gideon.

"Mr. Mayne. What are you doing here?"

Gideon's dark eyes gave away nothing. "You don't recall?" Pressing her fingertips to her temple, Julianne puckered her brow. Then she nodded slowly. "Yes… of course. How silly of me. We were drinking tea. Then suddenly I felt utterly limp." Her gazed panned over everyone. "And then all of you were staring at me."

Winslow returned, and Julianne's mother placed a damp cloth on her forehead then helped her sit up and drink some water. After several sips her father asked, "Are you recovered enough to walk, Julianne?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Good." He turned to his wife. "See that Julianne is settled in bed. I wish to speak to Mr. Mayne privately."