The Passionate Love of a Rake. Jane Lark

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СКАЧАТЬ and pressed her lips to his. She felt his lift into a smile.

      She pulled away, but he whispered, “Show me then, if you wish. Do not stop.” His grip on her hands pulled her back.

      Her heart raced like a hammer ringing on an anvil as she freed her hands and curved one about his nape while the other rested against his cheek before sliding into his hair. She licked her lips as she leaned forward to kiss him again, and her tongue touched his mouth. He groaned, and the sound emboldened her. She touched the tip of her tongue against his lips as she kissed him, and, as if he could not resist it, his mouth opened, and his tongue touched hers, sweeping into her mouth as his hands rested on her back. Then his mouth pressed more firmly against hers, their lips open and their tongues fencing as he tasted her, just as he’d promised.

      She had not known people kissed like this. He’d never kissed her like this before.

      She felt the magnetic tug which had pulled her from the moment she had seen him standing at the head of the stairs in the ballroom, and moved to cross the carriage, her body arching towards him, but he gripped her arms and held her back.

      “Not so fast, Jane, I don’t want to rush this. We have all night, as long as you like.”

      A long breath slipped from her lungs, and her heart beat erratically as she dropped back into her seat. Had she made a mistake? She thanked God it was too dark for him to see her embarrassment.

      “We’ve waited long enough for this. I’d rather savour it.” His harsh whisper filled the small space of the carriage.

      He sounded frustrated with her, angry.

      I did do something wrong.

      Robert’s body strained against the confines of his breeches. He wanted her now, to strip her clothes away, taste and touch her, feel himself inside her, and know her body surrendered to his. He looked out the window and fought his impatience. They’d be home in fifteen minutes. She was silent again, too.

      Did she want him as much as he wanted her?

      Was she hungry for him, or was he just another man to her, a sexual acquaintance?

      Was she just pleasure seeking, or was this about them, as it was for him?

      She’d cast him aside before, stung his pride, more, given it a permanent dent. God, this was folly, tearing open this old wound, which had taken years to heal and left a scar running deep into his head and heart.

      If … if? No, he’d not face the thought of a second rejection. What did he care now? He had four dozen other women who wanted him if she did not.

      But here was the hub of it. Here was why he’d never truly dispelled her from his blood, because Jane was the one woman who’d turned him away. He’d spent his life since, proving no other woman could. His whole life was testament to the fact that the error had not been his. The fault lay with her.

      He would make sure she did not reject him. His charm was an art form women could not refuse, wasn’t it? He’d spent bloody long enough making it so, making himself a master at this, so Jane would not refuse him again. If she did, he dare not contemplate the pain.

      The carriage rolled to a halt before his home, and in a moment, James opened the door and set down the steps. Robert climbed down first and lifted his hand to take hers. Her fingers were delicate and slender. They stirred something deep inside him. He did not wish to explore the feeling. No other woman had stirred it.

      He retained her fingers and led her up the steps. His butler, Jenkins, opened the door before them. Robert encouraged her to enter first and let go of her hand. She stopped, her eyes following the square rise of the staircase about the edge of the hall. It was one of those which seemed to hang in the air, without a single pillar to support it.

      He pulled the bow of her cloak loose, slid the garment from her shoulders, and passed it to Jenkins. “Thank you. That will be all.”

      Jenkins did not speak. He knew the protocol, as did all Robert’s household. They were to ensure his women felt secure in their discretion.

      Robert bent and whispered to Jane as Jenkins walked away, “Shall we go upstairs, or would you rather seek refreshment in the drawing room first?”

      Her perfume filled his nostrils, vanilla.

      Robert touched her waist, felt her shiver, remembered his earlier expectation, and made the choice for her as she’d voiced no opinion. “Champagne in my chamber it is then, Jenkins.”

      The butler merely nodded from across the room.

      Feeling satisfied, Robert smiled and drew her towards the oak staircase.

      Her eyes lifted again, apparently exploring the vast entrance hall as if awed. But he knew it could not be awe. Sutton’s must have been grander.

      “Come, Jane,” he urged her on, catching up her hand.

      When they reached the first floor, she was breathless.

      He slowed his pace a little and squeezed the fingers gripped in his. The action stirred up a memory of being with her in the woods, where the border of his lands had joined her father’s, the two of them eagerly running through the trees, heading for their secret meeting place, then falling onto a pile of straw in a stable by the woodman’s hut. She’d been laughing.

      The youth who’d been with her was not a person he knew any more, but what of that girl? She seemed different, too.

      He opened the door to his chamber and let her enter first. His usual frippery greeted him, laid out just as he’d ordered. He’d forgotten all of that, all the ceremony he enlisted to aid a woman’s seduction.

      Vases of white roses were spread about the room, filling the air with a heady floral perfume, and the fire had been lit to ward off a chill. It now glowed in the hearth, nearly burned out.

      He smiled as he watched her absorb the scene. Her eyes were wide as they passed over the pale cream and light gold colours, the satinwood dresser and chest, the two soft leather armchairs before the hearth, the three burning candelabras on the mantel, and the fourth by his bed. Her perusal stopped as her gaze rested on the tall, wide, four-poster bed. The rich orange walnut wood shone, polished like glass. The cream covers and sheets were turned back a little.

      It was the temple he worshipped at – the bliss that could be found in a bed with a woman.

      He sensed she was about to turn and flee, and rested his hands on her narrow waist. He looked towards her lips, deliberately denying her the opportunity to offer any excuse to leave by not meeting her gaze, and lowered his head, whispering, “Where were we?”

      His lips touched hers, and he felt them stir into movement as her hands slipped to his back then up across his shoulders and into his hair.

      Her mouth was soft against his. She kissed with uncertainty and hesitation.

      Because it was him, he supposed. Because it was them. But even so, she set his blood on fire, as she had done in the carriage.

      He broke the kiss and left some space between them to watch his gloved hand slide up across her stomach, over her ribs and her bosom, to her neck, and then he touched her mouth. She sighed. СКАЧАТЬ