Never Trust a Rake

‘No!’

‘No?’ He paused, uncertain now that he’d made the correct assumption about the gloves.

She shook her head. ‘I want to do it,’ she said, pushing him back down amongst the cushions at the other end of the sofa.

She was more efficient at dealing with his clothing than he’d expected her to be. In no time at all she’d stripped off his waistcoat and shirt. But then her touch could not be described as efficient at all. It was reverent, almost, the way she stroked and explored his torso.

And when she hitched up her skirts so that she could straddle him and kissed her way down his neck, then flicked her tongue over his nipples, it was more arousing than the most expert ministrations of those women who’d never put their heart into it. That was the difference, he decided as he ran his hands up the outside of her thighs. Her shy yet eager touches were prompted by love, not lust. His hands reached their destination and squeezed her soft flesh, whilst delving both his thumbs inward. She squirmed on his lap.

And, hell, but the sofa was not the place where he ought to take her, not the first time.

He sat up, and took hold of both her hands.

‘No. Stop. We should...a bed, at least,’ he panted raggedly.

‘You really expect me to walk through your house, to find a bedroom, with all your servants to see, in this state?’ Her hair had half come down. Her bodice was gaping and her dress was rucked up round her waist.

‘Though I suppose they might not be all that shocked,’ she finished doubtfully.

‘I have never brought a woman here,’ he assured her, having caught her meaning at once. ‘I have always conducted my affaires elsewhere. I have never wanted to encourage a woman to think she might have some hold on me, by inviting her into my home,’ he declared with vehemence.

‘And yet you brought me straight here,’ she marvelled.

‘Yes. Because I want you in my house, in my life, in my arms, for ever.’

She leaned forwards and kissed him again, flinging her arms round his neck.

‘You have started to make love to me twice already on a sofa. I think it is exactly the place you ought to take it to its natural conclusion.’

‘If you’re sure.’

‘More sure,’ she gasped, flinging back her head as he ran his hands under her skirt for the second time, ‘than I have ever been about anything.’

‘In that case,’ he growled, flipping her on to her back and coming down hard on top of her, ‘who am I to argue?’

‘Ooh...’ She sighed as he sucked one breast into his mouth, whilst employing his fingers to devastating purpose. ‘Oh, that is positively scandalous.’

‘Not yet,’ he murmured into her ear. ‘But we have all night to create a real scandal.’

‘All night?’ Her eyes widened in surprise.

‘Easily,’ he vowed, with a wicked grin. ‘In fact, I doubt very much if I will be able to let you out of my sight for some considerable time to come.’

She said nothing, but from the curve of her lips and the way she ran her fingers through his hair, Lord Deben knew she had no complaints.

And nor had he. For once, he had found perfection.

And her name was Henrietta.

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