The Passionate Love of a Rake

She said nothing, and his fingers came up and lifted her chin, bringing her gaze to his.

“You are such a liar, Jane.”

His tone was no longer angry, but it held a cynical humour, and the pupils in his eyes had widened, large, onyx circles darkening his gaze with long, dark lashes defining it.

A warm ache settled somewhere in her chest then spiralled to her womb like a rolling penny when his lips lowered to hers, catching at them gently, a soft caress.

She echoed it without thought. Her eyes closed as he continued to kiss her, and she opened her mouth when his tongue touched her lips. Her very bones melting, her arms reached about his neck, and her body pressed against him, and then he stopped and pulled away.

Her eyelids lifted. She faced a knowing smile and felt the chill of his desertion.

“As I thought, a lie, Your Grace, all of it. You do want me. Like it or not, Jane. Admit it or not. You want me. You are found out, my dear.” His eyes narrowed as he continued. “But why not admit it? I cannot make you out. And there I presume is the dilemma which has you so distracted and upset. Whatever it is that prevents you admitting it, I mean.”

His hand rose suddenly and tapped her under the chin, before dropping again. “Such a tease, Jane. You don’t know me very well, do you? These games do nothing but inspire me to persist.”

A knock struck the door she’d left ajar. “Tea, Ma’am.” The maid’s voice reached into the room.

“Come in.” Jane felt a blush rise again, realising the maid must have heard at least part of their conversation.

Jane turned her back on Robert to hide her embarrassment, then crossed the room and looked out the window.

She waited there, listening as the maid laid out the tea tray.

“Thank you,” Jane said, when she heard the maid withdraw, looking down towards the square and the park below.

Joshua was there, sitting in his curricle.

He’d positioned it in the far corner of the square and sat with one arm stretched along the back of the double seat while he smoked a thin cigar, looking up at the house. A gloating smirk lodged on his face as he spotted her.

She stepped back and turned away only to find her path blocked by her other pursuer, the Earl of Barrington.

Her fingers lifted and rested on the front of his coat, steadying herself and holding him back as she met his gaze. A flint seemed to spark between them then and caught to a flame. She could see it in his eyes and feel it in her blood.

She did want him physically. She always had. Robert Marlow was a heart-wrenchingly beautiful man. But the problem was, he knew it, and he knew exactly what he did to her, too. She had to stand firm, despite her memories and the feelings which still burned inside her from the old days. He was not her haven against the world. Right now, he was nothing but a wolf in sheep’s clothing, as dangerous as Joshua in his way. But, God forgive her, he made her want to be devoured, no matter how much she knew it could only bring her pain, and clearly he wanted to devour her, because, regardless of the anger still bristling in his eyes, and his right to be aggrieved, his head bent and his hands slid about her waist.

The embrace was fierce and impassioned. She was breathless in moments, and her heart thumped hard as her fingers clung in his hair, hanging on against the flood.

His hands slid down over the contours of her body, moulded to the shape of her buttocks, then pressed her to him. A lustful groan slipped from his mouth into hers as she felt his arousal.

“Huh-hum.”

Robert let her go instantly, and Jane felt her face turn crimson as she looked across the room and met Violet’s reproachful gaze.

She stood in the doorway, her hand still gripping the door handle.

Of course, they had not shut the door.

Jane glanced guiltily at Robert, only to see him expressing no remorse at all.

Instead, he wore a wolfish grin, looking full of scornful satisfaction as his fingers lifted and swept back the lock of hair she’d dislodged.

Ignoring their reaction, Violet walked into the room and crossed to the tea tray. “Shall I pour?” Her tone bore as much humour as annoyance.

Feeling ashamed, Jane accepted with a nod.

“Selford said you had a visitor. I presumed you would need some company.” There was censure in Violet’s voice.

Jane smiled an apology and moved to collect her tea. Then she returned to the sofa and sat.

“My Lord?” Her friend sent Robert a quelling gaze.

Jane assumed he would instantly withdraw with some excuse to leave, but Robert was not so easily daunted.

He nodded and walked forward to collect his cup then sat beside Jane.

It seemed a deliberate move. She was very aware of his muscular thigh pressing against hers. She felt a blush again.

“To what end do we owe the honour of your visit, Barrington?” Violet said, taking the chair opposite.

“His Lordship kindly gave me a lift home,” Jane interceded before Robert could respond.

Despite the charming smile on her face, Violet glared at Robert. “Your kindness was well rewarded, I saw.”

Jane coughed, choking on the tea. She set it down. When she looked up, it was to see Robert smirking again. He looked like he was almost laughing.

“Actually, I was on my way to call upon the Dowager Duchess. It was merely the hand of fortune that brought us together sooner.” He drained his cup and set it down before reaching into the breast pocket of his morning coat. He withdrew several folded notes and held them out towards her.

She stared at them. “Your winnings, Your Grace,” he prompted.

“My Lord, I—”

His expression darkened at her denial, and he interrupted. “If you do not want it then give it to a charitable institution. I said I would lay the bet for you, and I did.” He tossed the money on to her lap and rose.

Jane picked it up and put it on the table by her cup, then rose, too. She felt as though there was a tumultuous moat of misunderstanding and maybes separating them. Their impulsive embrace of moments ago was like a lost memory already.

“Your Grace.” He bowed. “If you will excuse me, I should be off in any case.” He turned to Violet, stepped forward and, bowing, held out his hand, indicating for her to set her hand in his. She did not. Jane watched Robert rise and smile in a dismissive gesture that told Violet he did not give a damn. “My Lady,” he intoned scathingly, before turning away then striding from the room with an assured step.

Oh. Jane looked at Violet, unsure what to do, but then, without any real thought, she set off in pursuit.

“My Lord!” she called, halting his pace as he reached the top of the stairs. “Wait, I’ll see you out.”

A knowing smile curved his lips.

The infuriating man was driving her quite mad.

When she reached him, she gripped his arm and led him on to the stairs, speaking in a whisper, “Robert, I do not want you to think—”