"I find nothing I wish to remember."

"Not even the carnal delights we once shared?"

"Most especially that."

She drew on a modest, long-sleeved gown of dark blue merino, one that she often wore going to and from the theater.

Slipping from behind the screen, Julienne sat at her dressing table to scrub away her makeup. She made every effort to disregard Dare's presence, yet ignoring him was like pretending she wasn't trapped in a cage with a hungry tiger.

She could see him in the small looking glass as he leaned indolently against the door, watching her. He was silent as she took down her hair, not speaking till she had removed the pins and combed her fingers through the thick mass.

"You always had the loveliest hair. Like Russian sable. Rich and silken and luminous."

Julienne kept her lips pressed together, refusing to respond. He had always had a silver tongue, she reminded herself. Dare delighted in overstepping polite bounds with his cajolery and too-intimate innuendos.

"And you have the face and body of a temptress."

"I am no temptress," she retorted. "And I am no longer a green girl, susceptible to your flattery."

"No, not a girl at all. You've flourished into a ravishing woman."

Unexpectedly, she felt an ache of sorrow. Once, he hadn't needed to flatter her with words. He had made her feel beautiful with merely a glance. Beautiful and cherished. Stop dwelling on the past, you fool.

She felt Dare move behind her. Julienne froze as he took up the hairbrush and began drawing it slowly through her long hair.

"I always relished doing this. Remember?"

The warmth of his voice touched a chord in her that left her trembling. Remember? How could I possibly forget? She closed her eyes at the drugging shock of recognition and familiarity: the feel of Dare at her back, the vibrant heat of his body, the sweet sensation of his touch, his erotic tenderness. It had been so long…

Heaven help her, she wanted him. She knew if she merely pressed back against him, he would carry it further… reach down to caress her, stroke her, arouse her. The thought of his lean, elegant hands fondling the swell of her breasts made her nipples peak with longing.

Dismayed, Julienne locked her jaw, resenting her body's betrayal, cursing herself again for a fool. She was mad to have allowed herself to be alone with Dare. She'd thought herself strong enough to meet him again after all this time, but she was mistaken. She was too weak. And he was too dangerous.

Unable to bear his nearness any longer, she rose abruptly to her feet, leaving her hair unpinned. In agitation she went to the wall hook and fumbled for her cloak, then flung it around her shoulders.

"If you won't leave, then I will, Lord Wolverton. I bid you good evening."

"No, I think not."

He advanced with slow, determined strides across the small room until he stood directly before her. Warily Julienne took a step backward, but there was nowhere to go.

For a moment he simply stared down at her, his gaze dropping to her mouth. In a daze, she waited as he leaned toward her slightly, lowering his head until his warm breath touched her cheek… her lips. He intended to kiss her, she was certain. A ripple of panic flooded her, and she tried to brace herself for the impact-

Yet astonishingly, his kiss never came. Instead he gave her his notorious, bone-melting smile. Bending, he slipped a hand behind her knees and lifted her up in his arms, turning her panic to startlement.

"What the devil are you doing?" she demanded, gasping at his unexpected action.

"Taking you to supper; what else?" Dare answered blandly. "My carriage awaits, darling."

Chapter Three

Dare shifted uneasily in the carriage seat, cursing the hot blood that stirred in his loins. His fierce arousal had taken him by surprise. He'd intended to exercise more control.

And he would have, if not for Julienne's instinctive feminine response to his nearness. He'd seen the blank daze of desire in her eyes, sensed the subtle changes in her body as she parted her lips in expectation of his kiss.

He'd had to veil the shock of raw need that ran through him. In sheer self-defense, he'd taken the first action that came to mind-swung her up in his arms and carried her out to his waiting carriage.

But being alone with her in the seclusion of the town coach had an even more profound effect on his body, rousing his cravings to a painful ache.

Involuntarily Dare cast a glance at Julienne as she sat staring silently out the window, her patrician countenance in profile. She was everything he remembered and more. In the muted light from the outer carriage lamps, her dark hair shone richly, flowing in heavy, silken waves over her shoulders. His gaze wandered to her bosom, where several curls lay in teasing disarray. Even now he had to fight the urge to move closer and bury his face in the luxurious mass, to slide his arms around her, to stroke those luscious breasts…

Dare swore again silently, feeling a surge of resentment that she had remained so alluring… that she still had the power to make him feel so much.

He'd been wholly determined to resist her, yet at her sensual response, memory had come rushing back to overwhelm him-every taste, every touch, every sensation, every yearning he'd thought forcibly buried deep in his heart, out of reach.

Perhaps his pursuit of her was a mistake. He had launched the first salvo in his game, declaring his intention to win her, but Julienne had proved just as enterprising, catching him off guard with her daring vow to bring him to his knees.

She had already done so once before, Dare reminded himself, setting his jaw. He would have to proceed with caution if he hoped to emerge from this contest with his heart intact.

His only satisfaction was that Julienne appeared to be as agitated as he was. She viewed him with wariness and mistrust, obviously, as if she feared his retribution. But he knew very well that her apprehension hadn't prevented her from remembering the passion that had once burned between them, or kept her from wanting him.

Beside him, Julienne was having similar thoughts. It dismayed her, how helpless she had been against Dare's brazen tactics. After setting her aquiver with longing, purposely kindling her desire with his nearness, he had suddenly doused the flame he'd created and roused her indignation at the same stroke; he had literally swept her off her feet and carried her from the theater to the delight of numerous gawking bystanders.

The nerve of the rogue, causing such a spectacle! He was exasperating, maddening, unsettling-although she had to admire his ingenious determination. Dare was single-minded when it came to getting what he wanted.

And he had won their first skirmish, Julienne had to admit. If he hadn't trapped her by his wager in front of a gleeful London audience, if he hadn't virtually abducted her, she would not be here with him now.

It was one thing to engage in a public battle of wits with Dare; it was another entirely to be secluded with him for the intimacy of a late-night supper. But she could manage to abide his company for an evening, Julienne silently promised herself. They were merely partaking of a meal. She was experienced enough now to keep Dare emotionally distant. And this was her chance to prove to herself that she was over him.

More critically, she could prove to Dare that she had the ability to resist him. The sooner he realized she would never surrender, the sooner he would give up his attempt at revenge.

I won't succumb to him. I won't.

By repeating that mantra over and over again, Julienne was able to restore some measure of her shaken confidence. Yet she couldn't help her heart beating in anticipation as the carriage slowed to a halt.

Her fierce awareness of Dare only increased when he helped her down. And when he pressed a hand to the small of her back, guiding her toward the entrance stairs, she gave a start at the instant warmth that sprang up inside her, deploring how she was affected by the casual contact.

She would have to do better if she hoped to win this encounter.

It was a private gentlemen's club, Julienne noted, not certain whether she should be relieved. She had half expected Dare to take her to one of his notorious dens of iniquity where, according to the scandal sheets that chronicled his wicked deeds, he conducted his orgies and other debauched entertainments.

They were greeted by a majordomo and led upstairs to an even more private chamber, lavishly but tastefully decorated. Candles glittered in gold sconces on the walls, reflecting the sparkle of china and crystal on the small, damask-covered dining table, while a cozy fire burned in the hearth, casting an intimate glow over the entire room.

As she expected, the scene was set for seduction. One wall was partially concealed by a crimson brocade curtain, but Julienne could see an alcove in the shadows, with a bed large enough for two.

Heat spread through her at the thought of sharing that bed with Dare.

The majordomo seated her at the table and then withdrew, to her regret. To her further discomfort, Dare took the chair beside her rather than opposite her.

"I must warn you," Julienne remarked lightly as he inspected the variety of wines on the table. "You are laboring under a misapprehension. Despite whatever machinations you have planned for tonight, you will not succeed."

His smile came easily. "I never anticipate failure before I have even begun."