Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake (15 page)

“You could have killed yourself,” he said, his voice thick with an emotion she could not quite place. Likely fury, she thought to herself.

“I would think ‘killed’ is rather unlikely,” she said, knowing as she spoke them that the words would not engender his goodwill.

“You could have fallen and been run over by a passing coach. I think killed is a fair statement.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he shifted her, distracting her from continuing their argument. Setting her down on the sidewalk in front of the open door to his carriage, he pointed a single finger toward the dimly lit interior of the vehicle. The single word he offered brooked no refusal. “In.”

Taking his offered hand, she stepped up into the carriage, settling herself on the seat. Noticing that several curls had come down and were brushing against her cheek, she lifted a hand to check the positioning of her cap, only to discover it was missing. “Wait!” She called to Ralston just as he was about to lift himself into the coach. He paused, offering her a questioning look. “My cap. It is gone.”

At the words, he ascended into the vehicle, taking the seat next to her and nodding to the footman to close the door behind him. She watched in shock as he removed his gloves and hat and set them on the seat across from them before banging on the roof of the carriage, signaling to the coachman to drive on.

“Did you not hear me?” she asked.

“I heard you,” he said.

“My cap—” she started.

“I heard you,” he repeated.

“But, you didn’t—”

“No. I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“The loss of that cap is no loss at all. You should be thankful that it is gone. You’re too young to be wearing such a loathsome thing.”

“I like it!” she said, indignantly.

“No, you don’t.”

She turned her face away from him, looking out the window to the street passing beyond. He was right of course. She hated the lace cap and everything it represented. After all, hadn’t she incinerated one of the awful things already? She couldn’t help the little smile that crossed her face. Fine. She was happy to be rid of it.

Not that she would allow Ralston to know that.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, the words echoing in the silence of the carriage. When he did not reply, she added, “For saving me.”

Ralston gave a noncommittal grunt in response. Clearly, he was put out by her actions. Fair enough.

After several minutes of silence, Callie tried again, offering what she hoped would be a conversational olive branch. “I look forward to Juliana’s coming out, my lord. I have every hope that she will find a love match.”

“I hope she finds no such thing.”

Her eyes flew to him in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

“Love does not bode well for the Ralston family. I do not wish it upon any of us.”

“Surely you cannot believe that.”

He responded matter-of-factly, “Why would I not? My mother left a trail of broken hearts through Europe, cuckolding two husbands and deserting three children—all of whom she claimed to love—along the way. And you suggest that a love match should be the standard by which I measure my sister’s success in society? No. I shall measure Juliana’s success by her marriage to a man of character and kindness—two qualities with far higher value than love.”

Were they in any other place at any other time, Callie would have likely allowed the conversation to end at that. Whether because of the whiskey or the adventure as a whole, she turned on the carriage seat to face him. “My lord…are you saying that you do not believe in love?”

“Love is merely an excuse to act without considering the consequences,” he said with disinterest, “I’ve never seen evidence of its being anything more than a precursor to pain and anguish. And, as a concept, it does more harm than good.”

“I must disagree.”

“I would expect no less,” he said frankly. “Let me hazard a guess. You think that love exists in all the poetic glory of Shakespeare and Marlowe and the wretched Lord Byron and whomever else.”

“You needn’t say it with such disdain.”

“Forgive me.” He waved a hand in the air, meeting her gaze directly in the dim light. “Please, go on. Educate me in the truth of love.”

She was immediately nervous. No matter how academically he seemed to be able to discuss it, one’s views on love were rather…well…personal. She attempted a scholarly tone. “I would not go so far as to believe that love is as perfect as those poets would like us to believe, but I believe in love matches. I would have to. I am the product of one. And, if that weren’t enough proof, I should think tonight would have been at least moderately convincing. My sister and Rivington have eyes only for each other.”

“Attraction is not love.”

“I do not believe that what is between them is simple attraction.”

The words faded into silence, and he watched her intently for a long moment before leaning in, stopping mere inches from her. “There is nothing simple about attraction.”

“Nevertheless—” She stopped, unable to remember what it was she was trying to say. He was so close.

“Shall I show you how complicated attraction can be?” The words were deep and velvety, the sound of temptation. His lips were nearly on hers, she could feel their movement as he spoke, barely brushing against her.

He waited, hovering just above her, for her to respond. She was consumed with an unbearable need to touch him. She tried to speak, but no words came. She couldn’t form thoughts. He had invaded her senses, leaving her with no other choice but to close the scant distance between them.

The moment their lips touched, Ralston took over, his arms coming around her and dragging her into his lap to afford him better access to her. This kiss was vastly different than their first one—it was heavier, more intense, less careful. This kiss was a force of nature. Callie moaned as his hand ran up the side of her neck cupping her jaw, tilting her head to better align their mouths. His lips played across hers, his tongue running along them before he pulled away just barely and searched her half-lidded eyes. A ghost of a smile crossed his lips.

“So passionate,” he whispered against her lips as he drove his fingers into her hair, scattering hairpins and sending her curls tumbling around them. “So eager. Open for me.”

And then he claimed her mouth in a searing kiss, and she did open for him, matching him stroke for stroke, caress for caress. She became caught in a web of long, slow, drugging kisses, and all she could think was that she had to be closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he opened her cloak and set his hands on a path to her breasts, cupping and lifting the heavy flesh there. She tore her mouth from his in a gasp as he ran his thumbs over the tips, hardened beneath the strained wool of the borrowed dress, freeing him to set his lips to the taut muscles in her neck, his tongue tracing a line along the column to her shoulder. He ran his teeth over the sensitive skin there, sending a jolt of pleasure through her, then laved the spot with his tongue. She sighed at the sensation and felt the curve of his lips against her shoulder, just as the taut wool of her bodice came loose, and her breasts spilled into his hands.

She opened her eyes at the sudden freedom, at the cool air rushing across her chafed skin, and she met his searing gaze for an instant before he pulled back to look at her bare breasts. Her skin shimmered in the flickering light from the streets beyond, and when he set one hand to her, she found herself unable to tear her gaze from the image of his fingers, stark against her paleness. The picture was more erotic than she could have imagined. She watched as he soothed the abraded skin and rubbed a thumb across her bare nipple, circling it gently, causing it to harden.

She shifted in his lap at the sensation, and he let out a low hiss as her hip pressed against the firm length of him. She was consumed by a feeling of feminine power, and she repeated the motion, this time rocking deliberately against him. He breathed deeply and stilled her with an iron grip, meeting her eyes. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “It’s a dangerous game you play, Minx. And I am a formidable opponent.”

Her eyes widened in surprise at the words. When he set his mouth to her breast, it was her turn to gasp. His tongue circled one peaked nipple before his lips closed around it and he sucked gently, working the hardened tip with mouth and teeth until she cried out, putting her hands to his head, clutching his hair.

He lifted his mouth from her, blowing a stream of cool air across her pebbled nipple, teasing her with the lightness of the caress. “Ralston.” His name on her lips was harsh, pleading.

“Yes?”

“Don’t stop,” she whispered into the darkness. “Please.”

His teeth flashed in a wicked grin. He shook his head, watching her, fascinated by her request. “So bold. You know exactly what you want, despite never having had it before.”

“Ralston,” she said again, writhing on his lap, frustration in her tone. “Please.”

He kissed her, unable to deny the keen satisfaction he felt at her honest response to his caresses. How long had it been since he’d been with a woman who was so open? He could become addicted to her eagerness, to her enthusiasm. He pulled away from the rough kiss to reward her. “With pleasure, my lady,” he said, and set his lips to her other breast. Callie cried his name, the sound echoing in the darkness, sending a jolt of pleasure through him, straight to his core.

He wanted her. In the carriage. He wanted to bury himself deep within her and show her what passion could be.

The thought shocked him from the moment, and he lifted his mouth from her breast, turning his attention to the street beyond. He swore roundly. This was not a woman one took in a carriage. This was Lady Calpurnia Hartwell, sister of the Earl of Allendale. She was half-undressed, and they were mere minutes from her home. How had he so lost control?

He began to set Callie to rights, straightening the bodice of her dress as she sat, confused, on his lap, watching him with wide, searching eyes. “We are almost at Allendale House,” he said.

The words spurred Callie into motion. She leapt from his lap onto the seat across from him, yanking at her bodice. Her gloves made dexterity impossible and she clawed at them, freeing her hands to tighten her laces. She scrambled to collect her hairpins, which were scattered across the coach, to restore her hair to its former state. He watched as she did it, trying not to notice the swell of her breasts straining against the rough wool of her dress. He resisted the urge to stop her from taming her mane of hair, instead reaching down to collect several more pins from the floor and offer them to her.

She took them, brushing her fingers across his, releasing more of the searing heat that had built between them. “Thank you,” she said quietly, flustered. She secured the last of her errant curls and placed her hands in her lap.

Gone was the passionate woman he had uncovered; returned was the prim and proper Lady Calpurnia. Ralston leaned back on the seat, watching her as the carriage pulled to a stop just outside of the Allendale driveway.

“I was not certain if the driver should take you to the door,” he said. “Are you planning a clandestine reentry?”

She gave him a small smile. “Indeed, I am, my lord.”

“Ah, so we are back to ‘my lord.’”

She did not reply, instead dipping her head shyly. He couldn’t see in the darkness of the coach, but he knew she blushed.

“I should like to escort you to the door.”

“There is no need.”

“Nevertheless—”

She interrupted. “I think it best I go alone. If we were found together…” The sentence did not have to be finished. With a nod, Ralston swung open the door and alighted to hand her down to the street.

He stood unmoving, watching until she had safely entered the house through the darkened front door before he climbed back up into the carriage and, with a sharp rap to the ceiling, signaled the coachman to drive on.

Callie closed the wide oak door to Allendale House with a soft click before releasing a long sigh and leaning back against the cool wood. She slipped her key back into the hidden pocket of Anne’s cloak and placed one bare hand to the pulse at her throat, attempting to stem the pounding there.

The great marble entryway was dark and quiet; the ball had ended hours earlier, and the servants, having finished tidying the space, had taken to their beds, leaving Callie in a silence that offered her a chance to address her racing thoughts. She had set out for an adventure that evening…and an adventure she had had!

A giggle escaped her at the thought, and her hand flew to her mouth to stem the noise as she surprised herself. Ladies of her age most certainly did not giggle…but for some reason it seemed an appropriate response tonight…as she sneaked back into her home after an evening filled with excitement. She felt another laugh bubbling up and quashed it. She had to get herself above stairs and into bed before she was discovered. She had worked too hard to keep her activities that night a secret—she would not allow herself to be caught!

Creeping across the marble foyer toward the wide staircase that promised protection from discovery, Callie felt her way in the darkness, hands outstretched, searching for the thick mahogany banister. She had just set foot on the first stair when a hinge creaked behind her and a sliver of golden candlelight fell across her face. Turning with a gasp toward the now-open library door, Callie met her brother’s eyes…and instantly recognized the irritation in them.

“I can explain—”

“Where the devil have you been?” His tone was equal parts frustration and incredulity.

She paused, frozen in midmovement, and considered her options for escape. Not many, and, if one eliminated the idea of leaving the house and never returning, none whatsoever.

Pasting a smile on her face, Callie whispered, “I don’t suppose you’d believe I was in the conservatory?”

“Not a chance,” Benedick said dryly.

“The morning room? Catching up on my correspondence?”

“Again. Likely not.”

“The orangery?”

“Sister”—Benedick’s tone was laced with warning as he extended his arm and widened the library door—“may I suggest you join me?”

Recognizing defeat when faced with it, Callie sighed and trudged toward her brother, who did not move from his place leaning against the doorjamb. Dipping under his arm to enter the warm library, lit by two fireplaces and a dozen or so candles, Callie muttered to herself, “One would think I would have noticed all these lights on the way in.”

“One would think, indeed,” Benedick said dryly, closing the door. Callie swirled to face her brother as she heard the latch click.

Seeing his sister in the well-lit room did not soften Benedick’s mood. “Good God! What the hell are you wearing?”

“Mother would not approve of your using such language in the company of a lady, Benedick.”

He was not going to be distracted. “First, I’m not entirely uncertain that Mother wouldn’t use that language herself, considering the circumstances. And second, the current situation does raise a question or two about your status as a lady, Callie. Would you care to offer an explanation as to your whereabouts this evening?”

“I was at the betrothal ball this evening,” Callie hedged, failing to endear herself to her elder sibling.

“My patience is wearing thin.” His deep brown eyes flashed. “After the betrothal ball. More specifically, where did you go wearing this”—he waved an arm to indicate her attire—“disguise…I can only imagine you would call it? Where did you get such a hideous thing, anyway?”

“I borrowed it.”

“From whom?”

“I shan’t tell you.”

He slashed one hand through the air. “From Anne, I imagine. I should toss her out for encouraging your behavior.”

“Probably. But you shan’t.”

Warning flashed in his eyes. “I would not test me, Calpurnia. Now, answers. Where did you go?”

“Out.”

Benedick blinked. “Out.”

“Indeed,” Callie said with a firm nod. “Out.”

“Out where, Calpurnia?”

“Really, Benedick,” she said in her haughtiest of tones, “I don’t harangue you about your comings and goings.”

“Callie—” The word was laced with warning.

She sighed again, realizing that there was no path to escape. “Oh, fine. I sneaked out. I went to—” She stopped. There really was no easy way to say it.

“You went to—?”

“I can’t say,” she whispered.

Benedick’s eyes narrowed, his patience having run out. “Try.”

She took a deep breath. “I went to a public house.”

“You did what?” The words came out at a near roar.

“Shh! Benedick! You’ll wake the whole house!”

“I’m not so sure I shouldn’t!” He lowered his voice to a crazed whisper. “Tell me I’ve misunderstood you. Did you just say you went to a public house?”

“Shh! Yes!”

“With whom?”

“By myself!”

“By yourse—” He paused, thrusting one hand through his hair before cursing. “Whatever for?”

“To have a drink, of course,” she said as if it were perfectly normal.

“Of course.” Benedick repeated slowly, shocked. “Have you gone mad?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Were you recognized?” She was quiet, setting him further on edge. “Callie. Were you recognized?”

“Not by anyone important.”

Benedick froze, spearing her with a rich brown gaze. “By whom, then?”

She hedged. “It’s not entirely important. Suffice to say, it won’t be a problem.”

“Calpurnia.”

“Fine. Ralston saw me. He was there.”

Benedick sat heavily in a brocade chair. “Good God.”

Callie followed his lead, flopping into the chair across from him. “Well, I shouldn’t have really been surprised, considering he recommended the tavern in the first place,” she said quickly, attempting to assuage her brother before realizing that his eyes were round as saucers and her words had done more harm than good.

“Ralston recommended a tavern to you?”

“Well, to be fair, I did ask him for a recommendation.”

“Ah, well. That changes everything.”

“There’s no need for sarcasm, Benedick,” she said curtly. “It isn’t very becoming.”

“Unlike an unmarried lady—the daughter of an earl—asking one of London’s most notorious rakes for a recommendation to a tavern. That, of course, is the very epitome of becoming.”

“When you put it that way—I can see how it might appear—problematic.”

“Might appear?” Benedick ran a hand through his hair again. “What would possess you? What on earth were you thinking? What on earth was he thinking?” He stopped, struck by a thought. “Good God, Callie. Was he improper? I shall have his head!”

“No!” She exclaimed, “No! I approached him!”

“To ask for a tavern recommendation.”

“Yes.”

“He shouldn’t have given it to you.”

“He thought it was for you.”

“For me?” Surprise and confusion laced his tone.

“Indeed. I couldn’t very well ask him for myself, could I?”

“Of course not.” Benedick looked at her as though she were mad. “Why the hell not drink here? What did you need a tavern for?”

“Well, for one thing,” Callie said matter-of-factly, “drinking here wouldn’t be nearly as much of an adventure.”

“An adventure.”

“Indeed.” She pressed on. “And, if you take a moment to consider it, it was really all your idea.”

“My idea?” Benedick began to turn red.

“Yes. Wasn’t it you who was encouraging me to experience life mere days ago?”

The words hung in the air as Benedick leveled his sister with his most incredulous look. “You are jesting.”

“Not at all. You started it. Categorically.” She smiled, rather pleased with herself.

Benedick looked to the ceiling as though begging for divine patience. Or for the Lord to strike his sister down. Callie couldn’t quite discern which. When he spoke, his tone brooked no discussion.

“Then allow me to finish it. Categorically. I am happy for you to pursue all the adventure you like. Here. In this house. Under this roof. Drink until you can no longer stand. Curse like a dockside sailor. Set your embroidery aflame, for God’s sake. But, as your elder brother, the head of the family, and the earl,” he stressed the last words, “I forbid you from frequenting taverns, public houses, or other establishments of vice.”

She snorted in amusement. “Establishments of vice? That’s a rather puritanical view of things, isn’t it? I assure you, I was quite safe.”

“You were with Ralston!” he said, as though she were simpleminded.

“He was perfectly respectable,” she said, the words coming out before she remembered that the carriage ride home was anything but respectable.

“Imagine—my sister and the Marquess of Ralston together. And he turns out to be the respectable one,” Benedick said wryly, sending heat flaring on Callie’s cheeks, but not for the reason he thought. “No more taverns.”

Callie considered her brother. She wouldn’t need a tavern again, of course. “No more taverns,” she agreed.

“If you want adventure, take it here.”

“Really?” She turned a hopeful smile on him.

“Oh, no. Now what?”

“I don’t suppose you would give me a cheroot.”

Benedick burst into incredulous laughter. “Not on your life, sister mine.”

“Benedick! You just said—”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“Have I not done enough to convince you that, if you do not assist me in experiencing life, I shall find someone else to do so?”

Benedick’s eyes narrowed. “That is blackmail.”

“And that is your opinion.” She smiled broadly. “I think it would be a nice moment, a brother helping his old, spinster sister to have an adventure.”

“I think you hold rather too-high expectations of the experience of smoking.”

“Well, no time like the present to dash those expectations, don’t you think?” She paused, offering him a pleading look. “Please? I’ve never even seen someone smoke.”

“As well you shouldn’t have!” Benedick argued imperiously, “A gentleman does not smoke in the presence of ladies.”

“But I’m your sister!”

“Nonetheless.”

“Benny…” she said, using his nickname from their childhood, “No one will ever know. You said I could have adventure inside the house!”

He watched her, not speaking, for several minutes, until she was entirely certain that she was not going to smoke a cheroot that evening. Just as she was about to stand and make her exit from the room, he heaved an enormous sigh. Hearing it, Callie’s face broke into a grin.

She had won.

She clapped her hands in excitement. “Excellent!”

“I shouldn’t push my luck if I were you,” Benedick said with warning as he reached into his breast pocket and removed a thin silver rectangle. Setting the box on the table next to his chair, he threw a catch on its underside, revealing a hidden drawer.

Callie sat forward with a gasp as the drawer came into view, craning to see. “I never knew!”

Benedick withdrew a small crystal ashtray, a tinderbox, and bundle of wooden matches. “Again, as well you shouldn’t have. I’m rather certain I shall regret showing you in the morning.”

Callie watched, fascinated, as Benedick opened the silver box and removed two long, slender brown cheroots. Putting one to his lips, he inserted the match into the tinderbox, lit the small stick of wood, and lifted the flame, producing a cloud of smoke.

“Fascinating!” Callie cocked her head to one side, watching the orange tip of the cheroot glow.

Closing his eyes briefly to both her innocence and his own bad behavior, Benedick took a long pull on the cigar, as though shoring up his confidence, then removed it from his mouth and offered it to his sister.

Giddy with excitement, she reached for it. Of course, once the burning tube was held gingerly between her fingers, she hadn’t any idea how to proceed. Meeting her brother’s amused gaze through the long column of smoke that was rising from the end of the cheroot, she said, “Now what?”

“Not much to it, really,” Benedick said nonchalantly. “Now you smoke it.”

“Like this?” she asked, carefully bringing the cheroot to her lips and inhaling deeply.

She noted Benedick’s eyes widening as she did so, and that was the last thing she registered before she began to cough. Horrible racking coughs that consumed her strength. She was vaguely aware of Benedick taking the burning stick from her hand, allowing her to pound upon her chest. Desperate for fresh air, she took huge gulps of breath, which only caused her to cough more, leading Benedick to bang on her back until she stopped him with a wave of her hand, fearing that the blows would simply knock any usable air from her lungs.

When she was once again able to focus on something other than her need for air, she registered her brother towering above her, trembling. Certain that he was quaking with concern for her well being, she looked up to allay his fears only to discover that he was instead shaking with barely controlled laughter. Her reassuring look immediately became a scowl as she noted his broad grin. His teeth gleamed white in his face, which was now red with exertion.