The Passionate Love of a Rake. Jane Lark

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СКАЧАТЬ beautifully lush bosom. There was ample to cup in his palm with little unneeded excess. A memory of his hands at her waist, her lips meeting his, sent a shaft of painful arousal to his groin. He had been almost as innocent as her in those days, even though he was the elder by three years.

      His eyes met hers again. They were distinctly green, the colour of emeralds. He’d particularly revered their unusual shade in his youth as something individual to Jane. He’d seen no one else with eyes like hers then. Though now he’d travelled widely, he’d seen the same a few times in other women, but even so, when visions of Jane disturbed his sleep or threatened his waking thoughts, it was always those green, almond-shaped eyes which haunted him. Her broad, genuine smile had charmed him as a boy, too, and brought him to his knees at her feet when he was a youth. Well, he had learned his lesson there. He’d never made the same mistake again, never trusted another woman so openly.

      She’d made no move towards him, and suddenly, he was in a mood to drag this out and not bend. He did not doubt for a moment that eventually she would be too intrigued not to seek him out. Disengaging his gaze, he turned away. He had lived without her for years; what did he care if she chose not to rush?

      His feet carried him back into the ballroom, and his gaze searched for Lady Baxter.

      “Robert.” Light fingers caught the sleeve of his black evening coat.

      So she did intend to rush after all.

      He turned back with a lazy smile, feeling incredibly smug to realise his skills had even worked on the ice maiden. When they’d parted, she’d held all the aces. Well now, the whole pack of cards was in his hands.

      “Jane?”

      When Robert turned to face her, Jane felt the floor drop away beneath her. If she had found his looks imposing from a distance, close to him, with that rakish smile lifting his lips, his handsomeness was devastating. It took her breath away. She sought to speak, but no sound came out. In his shadow, she was gauche.

      “You had something to say to me, I presume?”

      “Yes, I … ” Words erupted and then dried up. She shut her mouth and drew herself together. What had she come to say to him? She had just seen him turn away and knew she could not let him go without speaking. Say something. “I – I … ” She stopped again, then suddenly grasped control of her stray wits. “Could we go somewhere to talk?”

      “Because you do have something to say to me?” His languid voice, his falling smile, and the suddenly intent look in his eyes implied she could have nothing to say he wished to hear.

      She would not apologise to him. What had happened had not been her choice. She’d longed for him to save her even as she had said the words that turned him away. He had not come to her defence, and she’d hoped beyond reason he would come back, right up to the moment when she’d stood before the altar in Sutton’s small church, feeling bewildered and betrayed, and said, "I will."

      Common sense returning, she dropped a slight curtsy in parting. “No, of course not. I was wrong to think we have anything to speak of. Forgive me for interrupting you, my Lord.” She turned away.

      He caught her elbow and stopped her, his grip gentle. “You confound me, Jane. There was something you wished to say.”

      The truth struck her. It was in his expectant tone. He knew of the magnetic tug which had drawn her across the room. “No, I’m sorry. There is nothing we can have to say.” She stepped back as he let go of her arm, and then saw Joshua across Robert’s shoulder, observing everything.

      “Nothing?” Robert prompted in a deep burr.

      If she left Robert now, she would face Joshua’s recrimination. The threat was written on Joshua’s face. She needed to get out of the ballroom, out of the house, and away from the reach of her stepson. Her eyes met Robert’s dark-brown intense gaze, the central onyx pools glinted in the candlelight and offered more than conversation. Spiralling warmth stirred in Jane’s stomach. “But perhaps we could find somewhere private.” There, the hint was laid down, and in her mind, Jane thought of Violet at her most flirtatious and tried to act the same. She lowered her eyelids a little, veiling her eyes.

      God, that coquettish look heated his blood. Well, the mystery of her intervening years was answered; she knew how to play the game, and she played it fast. Yet there was still a question in his thoughts, a nagging doubt about her. She’d seemed almost as shy as a virgin, at first. But he supposed the cause of that lay at the door of their previous acquaintance, probably guilt or embarrassment, which he’d mistaken for innocence in his pathetic need to see and know his fictional Jane again. But even if he could never have his fictional Jane, it was still satisfying to know he could have her. He could take her for one night and finally free his blood of the poison her desertion had injected into his veins years before.

      Oh yes, he would enjoy seeing her face in the morning when he was the one to say it has been nice, but goodbye. Was he heartless enough to want vengeance? Hell, yes! Too right, I am. He would dine on it for weeks. He could make the woman a laughing stock, if he chose, her husband but weeks dead, and yet, perhaps he was not cruel enough to go that far. He surprised himself. He had thought not an ounce of conscience left in his beleaguered honour.

      “Very well, then.” His words were blunt, but he smiled, speculating on the pleasure for them both. Bending to her ear, he whispered, “To your house, or mine, sweetheart?” Touching her elbow as he spoke, to add pressure and steer her from the room, he felt her jump and saw pink flood her cheeks.

      “I am staying with Lady Rimes … ” she faltered, her voice implying an intention to offer an excuse.

      He was not about to let her articulate it. He’d set his mind on this now. He was not going to let her balk.

      “Then it is mine. We’ll take my carriage.” He refused to let her deny him.

      She shook her head. “I must tell Violet. She will wonder—”

      “Leave a message with a footman. He’ll pass it on.”

      He let go of her elbow and splayed his hand on the small of her back, applying an encouraging pressure to move her forward. She shifted and pulled away from his touch, walking a little ahead and separating them in the crowd.

      He assumed she did it to conceal their joint exit, which meant she was ashamed to be seen with him. The thought made him irritable again.

      Reaching the hall, he drew closer, his wicked and vengeful demons wanting to disconcert her – the part of him that was still hurt and angry at the way she had discarded him so easily years before. He settled his fingers on the curve of her waist in a possessive fashion. Her muscles jumped. Ignoring it, he walked on with his arm about her.

      They passed four women returning from the retiring room. She kept her gaze fixed towards the door.

      “The Dowager Duchess of Sutton’s cloak.” His voice echoed in the space about them. One footman disappeared. “And send for my carriage. Oh, and once we have left, please tell Lady Rimes the Duchess has gone.” Robert smiled, telling the man their reason for leaving.

      When the footman returned, he held up her cloak, but Robert claimed it and put it on for her, stealing the opportunity to brush the skin at her nape and across her neckline from the back of her gown over her shoulders.

      She shivered, and he saw her fingers tremble as she tied СКАЧАТЬ