Enchanted in Regency Society: Wicked Rake, Defiant Mistress / The Gamekeeper's Lady. Ann Lethbridge
all right.
‘Ellie, I think you know that I found you enchanting the first day I met you in the village. I have continued to feel admiration for you since that day.’ His serious expression returned. He placed a rolled document tied with a red ribbon and a package on the table between them. ‘I was shocked when I realised your deception. I was rude. I honour you for your loyalty to your employer. I am returning the mortgage without further obligation. There is also enough money to help with the debts. You can choose to stay, or you can leave without recrimination.’
She gasped, not quite able to believe what she’d heard. He was letting her leave?
He rose, prowling to the window to gaze outside. Against the light, the profile of his cheekbone seemed to be cut from something harder than mere bone and flesh.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. This was a test. A trap. He was seeing if she would keep her word. If she didn’t, he’d snatch up the papers and call their bargain off. Or was it something else? Something that made her stomach sink to her feet. She’d managed to disgust even a rake such as him. ‘You don’t want me.’
He swung around, his expression pained. ‘Not true. I do not wish you to enter into an arrangement that is distasteful to you.’
Distasteful? It ought to be distasteful, given all it would mean. She ought to be snatching up the papers and running for her life. And yet something in his eyes froze her in place. Raw hunger swirled in the dark brown depths, tightly controlled, yes, but there all the same. Not the heat of desire, although that was there, too, but a bleak deep-seated loneliness as he waited to bid her farewell.
Her foolish heart ached to ease his hurt. A wild desire to dispel that look from his eyes pulled at her soul. She’d made a bargain. Arranged it so no one would know. It was only for three months, but perhaps given time…
‘Go,’ he said.
The harshness in his voice said if she accepted his generous offer, she would never see him again. Torn in two, she stared at the documents.
He turned away, clearly expecting her to leave.
Go now, the voice of sanity whispered. She didn’t want to go.
Reckless Ellie, always too impulsive by half, crossed the room behind him and laid a hand on his arm. ‘My lord, I would not have suggested it, if I did not wish it.’
He lowered his gaze to meet hers, and in those dark depths she saw a lightening of his spirit and felt glad. Then he pulled her close and brushed her lips with his, a hesitant questioning kiss as if he doubted her words. A sweet kiss. Her body thrilled to his touch, her traitorous heart picked up speed.
She leaned close and teased his lips with the tip of her tongue, something she had imagined doing in her dreams.
He groaned against her mouth
A rush of pleasure heated her body. Two days ago had been the first time she had felt a man’s body, hard and strong against her own. And she’d liked it. She’d no idea, until then, that kisses created such internal conflagrations. And now she wanted more. He seemed equally inflamed by her bold responses. Crackling heat flickered between them like the electricity in the air before a storm.
He placed one hand behind her knees and one around her shoulders. He picked her up seemingly without effort and carried her into the bedroom, setting her on the edge of the small bed so that she faced him, her feet just off the floor, her knees touching his thigh. The intimacy sent heat to her cheeks.
He bent and kissed her mouth, a soft brush of his lips, back and forth, while his fingers worked on the fastenings of her gown. Little kisses rained down on her face, her lips and her neck. She shivered with pleasure. Her skin tingled wherever his lips touched. He pulled the pins from her hair. It fell around her shoulders, brushing against her cheeks, her neck. He ran his fingers through it, carrying it to his face and inhaling deeply.
‘Lovely,’ he murmured.
How easily she slipped down this path to dishonour, she thought as she reached for the buttons of his waistcoat. Was she really this wanton, or was it he only who tempted her into wickedness?
His sharp breath offered a reward for her boldness in the way her stomach clenched, as did the way he tore off his coat and helped her slip the waistcoat over his shoulders. He knelt and slipped her gown down to her waist, baring her stays and shift. He dipped his head to the exposed rise of her breasts and trailed butterfly kisses across skin so sensitive it shivered under his lips. Delicious torment. She moaned.
‘You are beautiful.’ The dark murmur as he gazed into her eyes sent waves of heat rushing to her core. There was more. She knew it in the way she wanted to touch and kiss and explore. Her fingers fumbled with the snowy white cravat at his throat and he chuckled. ‘In a hurry, are you?’ He dropped a kiss on her forehead, then untied the knot at his throat and she pulled the muslin free. The buttons of his shirt came next. Finally she had her prize. Feeling exceedingly brave and very naughty, she placed her hand on his bare chest. His skin was soft, sprinkled with crisp brown curls and warm. Her fingers tasted his flesh, marvelling at the underlying muscle beneath the satiny softness. She leaned forwards to kiss him on his breast the way he had kissed her. Again she heard his indrawn breath and her own little thrill. He liked her touch.
She drew back to see his expression. His eyes were dark, almost black, his mouth curved in a sensual smile, his breathing as rapid her own. She rejoiced in her powers of seduction even as she trembled at the knowledge of her ruin.
He pulled her to her feet and turned her around. His movements were gentle, but swift and sure and very male. He pushed her gown to the floor and pulled impatiently at the ties of her undergarments until they, too, slid to her feet.
Oh, God. She was naked. She was a fallen woman. Heat consumed her. Embarrassment? Desire. She no longer knew as he parted her hair and kissed a delicious spot beneath her ear, one hand around her waist and his hips tight against her buttocks. His other hand caressed her breasts. The skin tingled, tightened. His thumb brushed across her nipples. They furled into tight little buds, an achingly irresistible sensation. Weakness invaded her bones. Only his grip prevented her from falling. He played with her breasts, stroking, kneading, teasing her nipples, till she thought she would go mad with the need to touch him.
Being married must be like this. The freedom to touch one’s man. She’d never thought about that part of it. Exciting. Wonderful.
She leaned against his chest and reached up with her hands and stroked the back of his neck. She pulled his head down so she could kiss the side of his face. The stubble on his jaw rasped against her cheek. His musky cologne filled her senses. An intoxicating brew.
After this, she would not be the same person. All she had been taught in life to value would be gone. Another of her risky adventures. The last one.
She had never felt so alive or so scared.
Her kiss, so tender on his cheek, cut through Garrick’s lust. It hinted at affection. That she desired him was obvious. Her arousal was as strong as his, he could smell it, taste it on her skin, feel it in her physical responses. But there was unselfishness in her hesitant gentleness. The women he had known demanded satiation, as he had. It had always been about taking pleasure.
Ellie seemed to want to give. The intensity of tenderness she evoked in him threatened his defences, threatened his control. Pleasure. He had nothing else to give.
‘Ellie, sweetheart,’ he whispered. ‘Turn around.’
She twisted in his arms, maintaining the contact of her lips with his face. Her breasts, nipples hard with desire, brushed against his arm, his ribs. Piercing longing ripped at his resolve. He bent his head and ravaged her mouth, plunged his tongue into the warm heat. He could taste her sweetness and smell her clean fresh fragrance, the hint of vanilla. She leaned against him, winding her arms around his neck,