What a Vulgar Viscount Needs (Romancing the Rake 5)

He looked down at her and she became aware of just how close they were. Her heart began to beat wildly, and she glanced at her glass, intent upon breaking the contact and using her drink to create some distance when she realized the glass was once again empty. “Oh dear, I’m out of champagne.”

“Probably best,” he answered, plucking the empty flute from her fingers and setting it on the nearby table. “You’ll have a terrible headache tomorrow if you drink any more.”

She squinted up at him again, forgetting her need to look away. “You’re a rake, my lord.”

He paused and his mouth tightened. “How do you know that?”

“Everyone knows it.” She waved her hand, knocking it into his chest. Dear Lord, why didn’t her body work?

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “What does my reputation have to do with you not drinking any more champagne?”

Cordelia swayed closer. She didn’t mean to. It just sort of happened and she placed her hands on his chest to steady herself. But his chest felt wonderful. So strong and…masculine. She lightly caressed the bulging muscles underneath his jacket. “Aren’t you supposed to give me drinks and then take advantage of me?”

Her words made him pause and he drew in a sharp breath, his other hand coming to her waist. “Fortunately for you, I’m not that sort of rake.”

“Not that sort of rake? What sort are you, then?” she asked, and to her complete dismay, a hiccup followed the question.

“Miss Moorish,” he said, low and deep. “I’m the sort that doesn’t wish to marry, but that doesn’t mean I go around ruining perfectly innocent women.”

He didn’t? “What a pity,” she murmured before she could stop herself. She’d always had very dexterous hands and her fingers had developed minds of their own as she began tracing the outline of several muscles along his chest and down his abdomen. Her breath grew shorter as her fingers danced lower until he finally grabbed her hand when it reached his waist.

“Pity?” he asked as he laced his fingers into hers.

She tilted up her chin to look at him again. “I’m glad to keep my freedom but lately I’ve been wondering about what I’ll miss. What I am giving up as a woman.” She tilted her head to the side again, the gold in her eyes dancing in the flickering candles. “It has occurred to me that you are in a unique position to show me some of the things I might otherwise never know.”

* * *

Every muscle seized as Ash’s trousers grew heavy with lust. Damn it all to bloody hell, Cordelia was propositioning him.

He should say no. If anyone caught them, he’d be married for certain and she’d be stuck with not just a husband, but a filthy one, dirty from his past. But part of him longed to say yes. Taste her. Just this once.

“So you want me to do what exactly?” This was so much better than toasting with champagne.

Her tongue da

rted out again and he followed its movement, his mouth growing dry.

She gave her head a soft shake. “Would you…would you kiss me? Just so that I might know. I see my sisters and they look so happy…”

He growled deep in his throat. It was a slippery slope. “I shouldn’t. You’re a nice girl from a nice family and—”

Her body pressed lightly to his. “I shan’t tell. One kiss, one time. That’s all I ask. Surely, it’s not too great a favor from a rake such as yourself?”

The word rake made him wince. Oh, he played his part well. Happy go lucky, smiling, attending parties.

But played was the exact right word for it was all an act. He almost never acted rakishly. In fact, he’d been on his way to attend a party at the Baron of Balstead’s. It was meant for lords to participate in the most indecent of behavior. He’d go, he’d choose a lady, he’d pay her, and then he’d give her the weekend off. In fact, he’d allow her to use his room. Most often, the poor women just slept for days. Being a lady of the evening was damned hard work that most usually ended with the lady’s death.

They deserved that small respite. And he felt better for not having used them.

“Cordelia.” He gave her his best smile. “I appreciate what you’re asking. And I even applaud your decision, but it’s a tangled web you ask me to enter in with you. If you truly wish for a kiss from me, I’ll ask you to make the request again when you’re not so…altered.”

She frowned, her brow drawing together. “For a rake, you are decidedly unrakish.” Then she leaned back. “My sister, Juliet, was obviously interested in you for days and you never made a single move toward her either.”

He stilled, his body growing cold. She was too smart. She’d figure out one of his secrets already. How soon until she untangled them all? “For the same reason I’ll not kiss you. I don’t want to be caught in the marriage noose.”

He stepped back, finding the conversation to be too intimate. But she wobbled when he did, and he immediately reached for her again. “Miss Moorish, you’re so—”

“Plain?” she asked as she let out a little noise of dissatisfaction. Then her head dropped. “Of course,” she murmured, and his heart stopped beating. “We’re not to your taste, are we? Too simple. Country girls that are too—”