The Rake's Wicked Proposal

‘It is that “little death” you once talked of, is it not?’ she realised astutely. ‘And it is a little like dying. As if you have glimpsed a brief piece of heaven.’

This woman would be the death of him, Lucian acknowledged achingly. She was so trusting, so open and honest about the things she had felt, that it almost brought him to his knees. That gentle caress of her fingers against his pulsing arousal was almost bringing him to his knees!

He gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘It is exactly the same for a man as for a woman, Grace. But the moment has passed. My moment has passed.’ He gently but firmly removed her hand from his arousal and lifted it to his lips, to run them caressingly over her delicate fingers. ‘It is time I returned you to your aunt and uncle’s house,’ he added, as she looked confused and hurt by what she obviously saw as his rejection. ‘Do you not see that if anyone has discovered your absence from the house you will only be adding to their worry?’ Lucian felt he had no choice now but to be cruel to be kind.

He could not—would not—make love with Grace as the hardness of his arousal demanded he should. Their lovemaking so far tonight had only opened her eyes to the joy to be found in physical intimacy. To introduce her to any more would be unforgivable on his part. Besides, Lucian had every intention of making this woman his wife. After tonight’s events, sooner rather than later!

Grace was shocked. Stunned. For during those last minutes in Lucian’s arms she had totally forgotten her reason for coming here. Had forgotten her uncle’s collapse earlier tonight, followed by her aunt’s distress. How could she have done such a thing?

What spell had her love for Lucian cast upon her that she had so forgotten the loyalty and love she owed to the couple who had taken her into their own home when her parents died? Her aunt and uncle had treated her this last year as if she were a beloved daughter rather than just a niece. They were only in London at all at this time because her aunt had insisted that Grace must have a Season!

She turned away, stricken, feeling ill as she grabbed up her gown from the carpeted floor and quickly pulled it on over her near nudity, her fingers shaking as she refastened the buttons.

‘Grace…?’

‘Do not say anything!’ She turned fiercely on Lucian, the colour high in her cheeks.

‘Grace, what has happened here between us this evening is a—a normal reaction—to illness, to the realisation of our own mortality,’ Lucian told her gently. ‘I have seen it time and time again following battle. The need to—’

‘We will never speak of this again.’ Grace was shaking with the intensity of her emotions. ‘I should never have come here, let alone—let alone… We will never speak of this again!’ she repeated vehemently.

Lucian frowned grimly, knowing by Grace’s very fierceness that he had not handled the situation correctly.

He had not intended to hurt Grace by reminding her of her aunt and uncle, only to put an end to his own torment, to the urge he had to lay Grace down upon the carpeted floor before experiencing the joy of thrusting inside her and giving them both another brief glimpse of heaven! But he knew it was too late for him to retract now.

Grace agitatedly stabbed the pins back into her hair, once again securing it in loose curls upon her head, seemingly uncaring of the pain she was inflicting upon her own scalp.

He drew in a harsh breath. ‘I will arrange for my carriage to be brought round immediately.’ He strode forcefully towards the door.

‘Lucian!’

He turned frowningly at Grace’s admonishing cry. ‘Yes…?’

Grace swallowed hard, her cheeks very pale. ‘Should you not—not dress yourself before appearing in front of your servants?’ The sight of Lucian’s bare chest, the rippling muscles of his back, reminded Grace all too forcefully of how she had almost ripped his shirt from him minutes ago, in her need to touch his bare flesh.

Lucian’s movements were impatient as he pulled the shirt back into place before refastening it. ‘Are your sensibilities satisfied now, Grace?’ His gaze was darkly challenging.

Her sensibilities were shattered, if not utterly destroyed by the wantonness of her recent behaviour! So much so that Grace was not sure she would ever regain them…