To Tame a Dangerous Lord (Courtship Wars 5)

Rayne returned her regard while drawing his own conclusions about her. She was well-spoken, a lady by the sound of it. Her bearing, too, suggested gentility.

He understood why the baron would want her in his bed. She was not a beauty; in truth, she was rather plain, with square, somewhat masculine features and a sallow complexion. And her hair was a mousy, nondescript brown, which she wore scraped back from her face in a serviceable plait. But her body was another matter altogether. He’d felt her ripe curves hidden by the folds of her practical, unflattering nightdress.

She was a lush armful that he found extremely appealing—

“You may release me now,” she said rather breathlessly, interrupting Rayne’s lustful thoughts and reminding him that his arm was still draped around her waist.

Strangely he didn’t want to let her go, although he did so. “At least tell me your full name.” When she hesitated, he added, “I should like to know whom I rescued.”

Her mouth curved. “You did not rescue me precisely. I believe I can claim the larger credit.”

“I see. You’re ungrateful now that the danger has passed.”

Amusement flashed in her expressive gray eyes, and Rayne found himself unaccountably intrigued. Since Napoleon’s final defeat at Waterloo two years ago, his days of excitement and danger were over, much to his regret. The need for spies to thwart a French tyrant bent on world domination was a relic of the past. And even though Rayne had stretched out his career as long as possible, through the Congress of Vienna when the triumphant powers had divided up Europe and redistributed Boney’s territorial claims, he’d been forced to return to England the previous year when he inherited the earldom at his father’s passing.

He was utterly bored by the tameness of his current life and the necessity of hunting for a bride. He’d spent the past interminable week at a house party in Brighton as a favor to his grandmother, the dowager Countess Haviland. He’d accompanied Lady Haviland there and intended to escort her back to London at the conclusion, but it had been a relief to escape early because of a desperate summons by his distant cousin, Freddie Lunsford. Rayne was awaiting Freddie now, but this particular lady was also proving a welcome respite.

He had no excuse for not returning her pistol, though. When he handed the weapon to her, she stepped back from him with an expression of relief. “Thank you. I won’t inconvenience you further, Lord Haviland.”

“You needn’t go just yet,” Rayne said, laying a hand on her arm when she started to turn away. “A bounder like Ackerby may still be waiting to pounce on you.”

“He has left the inn by now … I hope.” She didn’t sound convinced, however. Putting her arms around her thinly clad form, she shivered.

“You are chilled,” he noted. “Come stand by the fire.”

Apparently she recognized the wisdom of his suggestion, for after another moment’s hesitation, she nodded.

Taking her elbow, Rayne guided her into the parlor toward the hearth. On the way, he collected his caped greatcoat, which he’d laid over the end of the sofa, and draped it around her shoulders.

“Thank you,” Madeline murmured once more, snuggling into the depths of the fabric and then holding out her hands to the blaze.

When his greatcoat began to slip, Rayne caught it and moved to stand in front of her. Reaching up, he started to close the lapels across her bosom. But then she looked up at him and his altruistic gesture arrested.

The firelight lent a golden glow to her skin and brought out the shining, honey-bright highlights of her hair, Rayne saw. But it was her mouth that most attracted his attention. Red and ripe, it beckoned to him.

Rayne went utterly still, recognizing the primitive sensations streaking through him: possessiveness, hunger, lust. Sexual awareness was suddenly rife between them.

She felt it also, he knew. The tension in her body had returned with a new, sharp-edged tautness he could actually sense.

Madeline shivered again, but not with cold, he suspected. When her lips parted in a wordless inhalation, Rayne couldn’t resist, despite his assertions of being a gentleman.

He lowered his head to claim another kiss from her.

She gave a faint gasp at the first potent contact of their mouths, while his own breath quickened at the enticing taste and feel of her. Her lips trembled under his … soft, resilient, lush, the texture of silk, although she seemed too stunned to participate in her seduction.

Therefore, he changed the slant of his mouth and took her mouth more thoroughly, insistently coaxing her surrender.

He felt a measure of triumph when her tongue met his almost willingly this time. Raising a hand to cradle her jaw, Rayne angled his head even further and deepened the pressure, the better to drink her in.

Her breath softened to a sigh as their tongues tangled, mated. The tantalizing promise of her response stirred heat and need in Rayne’s loins. It didn’t help either to know she was naked beneath her nightdress. He could feel his hunger rise the longer he went on kissing her. He felt primed and more than ready to strip off her nightdress and explore the ripe curves of her oh-so-feminine body.

Hearing a warning voice clamoring in his head, Rayne fought the urge to pull her closer. Even so, his hand shifted to her throat, caressing the fine skin above her nightshift’s high neckline. He found her pulse thrumming wildly, and when she moaned, the soft sound only sharpened his desire. His greatest longing just now was to cup her full breasts and kindle her pleasure even further, but he wouldn’t permit himself to go so far. Instead he allowed his imagination to flourish.

He could picture himself baring the luscious mounds of her breasts. Savoring her taste when he sucked her peaked nipples into his mouth. Stroking his hands down her back to her rounded buttocks. Raising the hem of her nightdress and sliding his fingers between her parted thighs.

She would be hot and wet and ready for him, he knew.

A fierce shaft of need arrowed through Rayne as he envisaged lifting her up and plunging into her welcoming heat, locking her legs around his hips as he took her.