The Unrepentant Rake Page 4

  ‘I told you that. They will try to force me to marry.’

  ‘Marry whom?’ he demanded.

  ‘Someone suitable.’ Her voice filled with loathing. ‘For my own good, they will say. I have a small inheritance, but my uncle controls the trust until I’m thirty years old. He may deprive me of funds entirely if I don’t obey.’

  ‘How primitive of him. Have you no place else to go? Your friends, for example?’

  ‘Not if I wish to find respectable employment.’

  ‘Who are these friends?’

  ‘Fast widows. Actresses. Poets.’

  ‘Poets? Good God.’

  ‘Don’t be another stodgy male, Simon,’ she said irritably. ‘One can say exactly what one pleases with poets.’

  Stodgy? What sort of fellows did she associate with? ‘You can say exactly what you please with me, too. Not that I have any particular objection to poets, as long as I’m not obliged to talk to them.’

  ‘But fast widows and actresses are another story, I assume,’ she said. ‘Kiss me kiss me kiss me.’

  He did, teasing her lips open, tangling with her sweet tongue. Reluctantly, he pulled away. He needed answers. He needed to know about her. ‘Surely you don’t believe the reliquary makes such a difference?’

  ‘I know it does. My grandmother was the second wife of a brutal man. He had thrashed his first wife regularly, but thanks to the reliquary he became much calmer. Their marriage was difficult, but he never so much as touched her in anger. My parents squabbled constantly about what was proper until my mother inherited the reliquary, after which they suddenly became almost civil with one another. I don’t intend to subject myself to such strife, with or without the toe bone.’ She ran a hand up his torso, playing with his chest hair. She squeezed his biceps. ‘You’re very strong. You carried me easily down the ladder.’ She buried her nose in his chest. ‘I like your smell, too.’ Then she was at his mouth again, demanding another kiss.

  He kissed her back, long and slowly, falling into her lushness, his whole being sighing with the ease of it. ‘You don’t intend to wed at all?’ She was made to grace a marriage bed. A now familiar pang struck deep within him.

  ‘No, why should I? I have only to wait until I’m thirty, after which I shall be able to support myself. The only drawback is not having this…’ She waved her hand, indicating their state of undress. ‘But I’ve never been overly tempted until now. If it weren’t disrespectful to St. Davnet, I would say she gave you to me for one night of passion.’

  According to this absurd theory, he was not only justified in satisfying her every desire, he was doing a good deed.

  He gave up and gave in, and went for her hem.

  The sight of Simon’s hand gathering up her nightdress excited Beatrix beyond bearing. She closed her eyes.

  But that made her feel even more vividly. His fingers feathered across her bare skin, approaching her most private parts… She groaned and opened her eyes again. ‘I don’t know how I’ll stand this. I’m already close to exploding.’

  ‘Nowhere near.’ Simon’s fingers inched up her inner thigh, but instead of going straight for her core, he followed the furrow where torso and leg joined. Oh. His hand covered her mound of hair and pressed gently. Oh again. Shivers and quivers travelled up and down her spine.

  ‘I believe you enjoy torturing me,’ she said.

  ‘Even more than you like being tortured.’ He cupped her private parts, and she writhed against his hand. He laughed and slid a finger into her. She was embarrassingly wet down there, but when his finger slid across her most sensitive spot, she cried out, forgetting everything except the exquisite pleasure of his touch. He repeated the motion, spreading her wetness, circling her nub tantalizingly. She clutched him, writhing against his hand, moaning, moaning…

  He covered her mouth with a hard kiss. ‘Hush, now. You’ll wake the whole household.’ He slipped off the bed, and she sat up, aghast at herself. He crossed to the door and locked it. ‘Now no one will burst in, but you’d better come up with a suitable lie in any case.’

  ‘This is so mortifying,’ she whispered, and when he grinned, she added, ‘Not about telling a lie. St. Davnet’s toe bone can only do so much, so I spend most of my time pretending to be someone I’m not.’

  ‘Muffling yourself.’

  She giggled. ‘I never thought noise would be a problem.’

  ‘Not a problem, a challenge. Come here.’

  She did, and in one swift movement he pulled the nightdress over her head. He looked her up and down, his smile appreciative and oh, so wicked.

  ‘This isn’t fair,’ she said, her natural inclination to act warring with sudden shyness. ‘I’m at quite a disadvantage.’

  ‘Do something about it, then.’

  She’d expected him to be in charge. That she, being a novice, would be a passive participant. She eyed his breeches. Even in the dim light of the bedroom candle, she noticed quite a bulge. ‘And if I don’t? Will you burst your buttons?’

  ‘I want you to touch me,’ he said, his voice harsh and tight.

  She’d never imagined anything like this before; in her fantasies, she’d jumped from kisses to culmination. She stepped boldly forward and opened the top button of his breeches, then cupped her hand over his erection. He let out a long sigh. She opened the other buttons, only to encounter his smalls. ‘Too much clothing.’ She pushed his breeches down, daringly running her hands over his buttocks.

  She peeled his smalls away, and his erection sprang free. ‘Good heavens,’ she said, as his rod of flesh brushed her belly. She knelt to push the smalls down, which brought her closer to inspect the hard evidence of his arousal. Desire coursed through her. She took him gently in one hand. Oh, heavens, it was so soft, so hot, so beautifully formed. She slid her hand down it and up again and ran her thumb over the tip. He gave a tiny hiss. She glanced up, but his eyes were closed, his face rapt.

  She stuck out her tongue and licked him.

  ‘Christ.’ He pulled her to her feet. For a second, she thought he might be angry, but he kissed her hard. ‘You’ll finish me before I even start on you.’ He lowered her onto the bed, and then they were naked in each other’s arms, kissing and kissing. His hands roamed her, caressing her breasts, squeezing her waist, running over her hip bone, making her shudder. She got her fill of feeling him, too, until he slid a hand between her legs again. She moaned.

  ‘Hush. Your goal is to be quiet.’

  ‘And I suppose yours is—’ His fingers slid over her nub, entering her, then returned to that sensitive spot again and again. She wriggled away, suffocating a whimper. ‘To make it impossible for me to succeed.’

  ‘You have a beautiful moan.’ He went for her breast with his mouth, while he slid his fingers inside her again. ‘And an adorable whimper.’

  She arched under his hand, biting her lip to keep quiet, while the pleasure grew and grew, until she writhed under his touch and let out a long, low groan. And a helpless giggle. ‘Oh, Simon. I never knew it would be such fun.’

  ‘Perfect,’ he murmured. ‘You’re so perfect, love.’

  She couldn’t wait any longer. ‘I want you inside me, Simon. I need to know how it feels, just this once.’

  Simon kneed her legs apart and moved over her, kissing her ripe, lovely lips, and pushed himself slowly inside her. She closed her eyes, tensed slightly…and then he was through her barrier and inside her soft, hot, welcoming core. Oh love, oh love.

  He’d just met her, he hardly knew her, and yet…

  He thrust again and again, playing with her all the while, watching the flutter of her lashes and her quick, desperate breaths. He must make this perfect for her, because afterward he would go his way and she hers… She arched again, clenching around him, convulsing, muffling a tiny shriek and a long drawn-out whimper that ran like Cupid’s arrow through his heart.

  He began to move again, seeking his own release now. Shocks still ran through her as she met his thrusts. She clutche
d his behind and urged him on. At the last possible instant he withdrew, burying his nose in her throat.

  Once would never be enough.

  They lay entwined as their breathing gradually returned to normal. She kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you, Simon,’ she said. ‘That was wonderful. I’ll remember it forever and…’ Her voice caught. ‘And ever.’ Was that a tear glistening on her cheek?

  ‘Once isn’t enough, is it?’ he asked.

  ‘It will have to be,’ she said.

  ‘Why?’ Words tumbled out before he could stop them. He didn’t want to stop them. ‘You now have me to be naughty with anytime you like.’

  ‘I wish that were possible.’ She sighed. ‘But it’s not.’

  ‘Wherever you are, town or country, I’m at your beck and call.’

  She huffed. ‘I suppose you’ll stay at the village inn and climb up to my bedchamber at midnight.’

  ‘That sounds like fun. Or I could pose as a groom.’

  ‘The whole village would know within a week! You must be mad.’

  ‘No doubt about that.’ Apparently, he was possessed. He was almost wheedling when he added, ‘Discretion is easier in London.’

  ‘Not much. Once one knows the signs, it’s easy to tell who’s sleeping with whom.’ Her eyes went round. ‘You’re serious!’ She put up a hand. ‘No, no, no! Don’t even think about it.’

  ‘How can I not? You are entirely delightful.’ She shook her head; maybe she was wise not to want him again. He’d never been a constant sort of lover. He’d had no reason to be. Now though, with the right woman and enough funds to support a family…

  He hardly knew her. It wasn’t even the full moon, so where had these lunatic thoughts come from?

  He offered Beatrix his most coaxing smile. ‘Then we’d best do it again right now.’

  Simon woke to full daylight and the clatter of brooms and dustpans in the corridor. He raised himself on one elbow and groaned. He’d fallen asleep in Beatrix’s embrace. Granted, they’d made a vigorous night of it, but he never, ever fell asleep in a woman’s bed.

  Beatrix sat up, looking as aghast as he felt, as well as tousled, rosy, and eminently desirable. ‘It’s morning already! Oh God, what will we do?’ she squeaked.

  ‘Make love again?’ He was ready and willing, but Beatrix looked appalled. ‘Already having missish thoughts about last night’s fun?’ The instant the words were out, he regretted his flippant tone. She deserved better.

  After a dispiriting pause, she shook her head. ‘No, but I can’t afford to get caught.’

  ‘I’ll slip out once the coast is clear. No one will be surprised if they find me prowling the corridors.’

  ‘I suppose not.’ She sounded rather glum, and it was his fault. She was different from anyone he’d ever met—so bright and alive and adorable—and again, he’d made a comment that lumped her in with all the rest. He reached for her, intending to say something meaningful, but she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. All for the best, as he’d never said anything meaningful in his life and would probably make a mull of it now.

  She washed her face and brushed her hair, treating him to a splendid view of her curves from behind. A man could easily become accustomed to such a view. A man could also take advantage of it regardless of maids bustling by in the passageway, if the woman were his wife.

  She whirled. ‘Why are you still lying there? Get your clothes on!’

  ‘You’ll have to get dressed first,’ he said. ‘I won’t fit into my breeches as long as I’m feasting upon your luscious nakedness.’ That bought him a faint smile. ‘I’ve never woken in a woman’s bed before.’ Why was he making such a confession? ‘It’s an excellent way to start the day.’

  ‘I liked waking up with you, too,’ she said. ‘I enjoyed it all very much, but it’s over now.’ That sounded like something he would say. She bent to open a clothes press, giving him another inviting view.

  ‘Which reminds me,’ he sighed. ‘My idea of last night.’

  She pulled a fresh shift over her head. What a pity. ‘I’d forgotten. What is it?’

  ‘If your saint won’t bring true love to Del and Eudora, I believe we should take a hand in it.’ He wondered if Beatrix had heard; she’d gone to the window and was gazing out over the gardens. ‘If we force the issue, you’ll get the reliquary back and I’ll be free to make my escape.’ Damn, he’d said it wrong again. ‘From the Ottersby females, that is. Not from you.’ Never from you.

  What was so fascinating outside that window? Endless seconds later, she turned, flapping her hand impatiently. ‘It won’t work, because we can’t prevail against the power of the toe bone. Even if you convince Mr. Conk to speak up, Eudora will not be able to defy her mother and accept him unless she gives up the reliquary first.’

  This was nonsense, but for Beatrix’s sake, he would do it her way. ‘Very well, I’ll get the toe bone back for you.’ A brilliant notion popped into his head. ‘At a price.’

  She flapped her hand again. ‘The price doesn’t matter. How will you get it back?’

  ‘You’ll do anything?’

  ‘I already did and enjoyed it, so why would I balk at more?’ She kept her tone light; she mustn’t let him see how much she regretted their night together. She’d made mistakes before, but none as big as this one. She should have known a saint wouldn’t approve of a night of passion.

  One didn’t fall top over tail in love in one night, but she’d done it anyway. What was worse, with a rake known for breaking hearts and leaving the pieces strewn in his wake.

  Who, unlike what she’d heard about some rakes, had devoted himself to her pleasure, and almost certainly compromised his own by making certain she didn’t conceive a child. Who hadn’t taken advantage of her outdoors on the lawn, but waited until she’d freely invited him, and hesitated even then. Who even while gazing aroused at her naked body, didn’t forget he was here to help his friend.

  Once wasn’t enough. A lifetime wouldn’t be. She would be far, far happier if she’d remained ignorant. Too late for that, she told herself, dangerously close to tears.

  She firmed her voice and her resolve. ‘How will you get the reliquary?’

  ‘You’ll do anything?’ he asked again, regarding her with his head cocked to one side. ‘Are you quite, quite sure?’

  She didn’t want to play games. ‘Will it involve kisses?’ she demanded in a deliberately waspish voice.

  ‘Many, many kisses, everywhere on your delectable body.’

  She suppressed a groan. ‘Very well. Now, how will you get the reliquary?’

  ‘Without the least difficulty,’ he said.

  She gritted her teeth. ‘Give me a proper answer! I don’t want you making crude suggestions like you did to her sisters. That may frighten her off marriage altogether.’

  ‘Is that what frightened you?’

  She started. ‘Me? No. No, of course not. I’m not afraid of marriage.’ Judging by his expression, he didn’t believe her, but men never understood. ‘And you mustn’t use force.’

  In a voice of ice, he said, ‘You believe I would use physical violence on a woman?’

  Damn, she’d offended him. ‘No, but you’re unscrupulous, and—’

  ‘And Eudora deserves no consideration at all,’ he interrupted. ‘I’m surprised you care whether she marries Conk. She doesn’t deserve him, the little thief.’

  ‘Nor does he deserve her, the big coward. But she’s in love with him.’ Her voice caught; she took a breath. ‘And he loves her. Obviously they should marry.’

  He spread his hands. ‘Therefore, I shall make sure they do.’

  He refused to divulge anything about his plan. He spent the morning flirting as usual, the only difference in his behaviour being that he paid more attention to Eudora than before. By midafternoon Ottersby Place was abuzz with uncustomary emotions: Eudora smiling and cheerful, Lady Ottersby smug and satisfied, and Delbert Conk first puzzled, then irritable, and finally so annoyed he st
omped out of the house and strode away across the fields.

  Beatrix waylaid Simon in a corridor. ‘What the devil are you trying to accomplish?’

  ‘Tsk,’ he said, wagging his finger. ‘Such language from a prim and proper governess.’

  ‘I must speak to you in private. Now!’

  His eyes widened. ‘Fortunately, I have discovered just the place.’ He whisked her into a storage room that had once been a powder closet and closed the door.

  It occurred to Beatrix almost immediately that proximity and dense darkness did not conduce to conversation—at least not the kind she had in mind. Doubtless a rake found such spots in every house he visited. Simon pulled her close and possessed her with another of those marauder kisses. She melted against him with an incoherent little moan and didn’t even realize he had lifted her skirts until he eased her legs apart with his knee and pressed her against the wall.

  She broke the kiss. ‘What are you doing?’ A stupid question; what conscious thought remained to her indicated he was unbuttoning his breeches.

  ‘Satisfying your desperately urgent desires,’ he whispered, nuzzling her neck, nipping her earlobe. ‘Isn’t this what you wanted from me?’

  ‘No!’ she said. ‘We can’t do this in here!’

  ‘And yet we are,’ he said. She tried to protest, but her entire vocabulary fled as he lifted her bottom and thrust into her. She gave in and clung to him, terror that they would be found washed away by torrents of pleasure, by mounting desire that surged, stroke upon stroke, to a breathtaking crest. She clenched around him again and again, and wailed into his mouth when he withdrew.

  He lowered her, and they slumped against each other. ‘Oh, Simon.’ She was shaking, almost weeping, as she buried her face in his shoulder.

  ‘Darling Trixie,’ he whispered, the thudding of his heart fierce against her breast.