Where to Woo a Bawdy Baron (Romancing the Rake 3)

She took a half step back as she assessed his large frame. She’d been alone with him already. But that had been in the busy town square. Granted, they’d been protected by the tree branches, but any noise and they’d have been discovered. Here, alone on the beach with him? Entirely different. “Lord Craven. What are you doing here?”

“I needed some exercise.”

He walked toward her, his steps slow, his body swaying with his movement in an almost hypnotic way. She squeezed her umbrella tighter as excitement fluttered through her.

She gave him a sideways glance. “How funny. So did I. Only I tend to walk rather than run. I find it gives me time to think.”

He stopped a few feet in front of her. “I run because I prefer not to think at all.”

“You don’t like to talk or think?”

“What’s wrong with that?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

Somehow she wasn’t frightened of this man, though perhaps she should be. She hardly knew him, but he’d carried her safely down the tree. “Not a thing.”

He visibly relaxed, his shoulders’ lowering and his arms dropping to his sides. “Did I sound very sharp? Apologies.”

“No need,” she answered. “I myself don’t like it when people attempt to probe into my private business.” She gave him what she hoped was a glowing smile. “But I should return home. I wish you a good day.”

While part of her wished to stay, it was folly to be alone with a man like him. First because a girl should mind her reputation. Besides, Bianca had the urge to open up and tell him her secrets. And that would never do. A man like him, strong, handsome, titled, did not need to hear the thoughts of a silly girl.

Chapter Five

Chris swallowed down his protest. He didn’t want her to go. Chris flexed his hands as he watched her turn away. “Bianca. Wait.”

She paused but didn’t turn back around. “Lord Craven,” she started, speaking just over her shoulder, the damn umbrella blocking part of her face. “I don’t think…”

“I can help you,” he blurted out before he’d thought his words through. What the bloody hell was wrong with him?

She twisted round just a few inches more to meet his glance while still keeping her face partially hidden. Her back was still to him but he could see her hesitation, the way her fingers fluttered to her cheek, the way the umbrella kept blocking his view of her pink face. And yet, the sight of her, her tiny waist, the flare of her hips, it stole the breath from his lungs. He wished to reach out and pull her against his front, cradle her body against his. His trousers, made to be loose, grew exceedingly tight. He’d never had this strong of a reaction to a woman before. Perhaps Dashlane was right. This place was playing tricks on them.

“Help me?” she said. “I can assure you there is nothing you can—”

“Not true,” he said between gritted teeth. “I could pummel those men into the ground.”

She finally turned all the way around, smiling broadly, all hesitation gone. A bit of victory sang in his veins. “There are quite a few of them,” she said. “That would be an awfully lot of fighting.”

He stood straighter, his chest expanding. “You do need my help.” Stepping closer, he reached for her waist and turned her around, pushing the umbrella back so it didn’t poke his neck. “I don’t need to beat them all up, just one or two key players and the rest will fall in line.”

The sun kissed her ivory cheeks, creating a flush on her smooth skin. Without meaning to, he reached up and brushed his thumb down the silky flesh.

“Key players?” she asked as she nibbled at her own lip. “How did you know there was a key player?”

Victory sang in his blood. She’d tell him who tormented her, he’d solve this problem for her. And then…his mind stopped. What exactly did he hope to accomplish? He nearly grumbled aloud. Chris wanted Bianca to value him. Think he was worth something. He could have rolled his eyes at himself. He was nothing. Just a stuttering man whose own father hated him still. “You said as much from our walk back from the village.”

She let out a soft little sigh, her gaze focused on his chest. “Lord Craven, I should go. We shouldn’t be alone like this. I—”

He pulled her a bit closer to his body. “My name is Chris.”

“Chris?” she said, her chin lifting as she looked into his eyes.

“Christian, actually.” He let his thumb brush her cheek again. The feel of her skin making his stomach tighten. “Now that we’re more acquainted. Tell me what happened.”

She gave her head a tiny shake. “I made a fool of myself. I’d rather not repeat the mistake.”

“Confiding in me is not a repetition but rather a correction.” He didn’t want to tell her, he was all too aware of how much teasing hurt.

“I…” Her face turned a bright shade of red. “I went to a local dance last year. There was one man…he’s the son of a wool producer that I fancied at the time.”