Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake (8 page)

“N—No!” she said, a touch too loudly. “Not at all, my lord. That is—Thank you.”

His breath exhaled on a half laugh. “I’m afraid that you have mistaken the experience.” He paused, watching the confusion cross her face. “You see, when I agree to something, I do it wholeheartedly. That was not the kiss for which you came, little mouse.”

Callie wrinkled her nose at his words, and at the nickname he had used for her. “It wasn’t?”

“No.”

Her nervousness flared, and she resumed toying with her cloak tassel. “Oh, well. It was quite nice. I find I am quite satisfied that you have held up your end of our bargain.”

“Quite nice isn’t what you should be aiming for,” he said, taking her restless hands into his own and allowing his voice to deepen. “Neither should the kiss leave you satisfied.”

She tugged briefly, giving up when he would not free her and instead pulled her closer, setting her hands upon his shoulders. He trailed his fingers down her neck, leaving her breathless, her voice a mere squeak when she replied, “How should it leave me?”

He kissed her then. Really kissed her.

He pulled her against him and pressed his mouth to hers, possessing, owning in a way she could never have imagined. His lips, firm and warm, played across her own, tempting her until she was gasping for breath. He captured the sound in his mouth, taking advantage of her open lips to run his tongue along them, tasting her lightly until she couldn’t bear the teasing. He seemed to read her thoughts, and just when she couldn’t stand another moment, he gathered her closer and deepened the kiss, changing the pressure. He delved deeper, stroked more firmly.

And she was lost.

Callie was consumed, finding herself desperate to match his movements. Her hands seemed to move of their own volition, running along his broad shoulders and wrapping around his neck. Tentatively, she met Ralston’s tongue with her own and was rewarded with a satisfied sound from deep in his throat as he tightened his grip, sending another wave of heat through her. He retreated, and she followed, matching his movements until his lips closed scandalously around her tongue and he sucked gently—the sensation rocked her to her core. All at once she was aflame.

He was right. This was the kiss for which she had come.

He broke off the kiss then, running his lips across her cheek and setting them to her ear, taking the soft lobe between his teeth and biting gently, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body as he laved the sensitive skin there. From far away, Callie heard a whimper…and belatedly realized that it was her own.

His lips curved at her ear as he spoke, his harsh breathing making the words more a caress than a sound, “Kisses should not leave you satisfied.”

He returned his lips to hers, claiming her mouth again, robbing her of all thought with a rich, heady caress. All she wanted was to be closer to him, to be held more firmly. And, as though he could read her thoughts, he gathered her closer, deepening the kiss. His heat consumed her; his soft, teasing lips seemed to know all of her secrets.

When he lifted his mouth from hers, she had lost all strength. His next words pierced through her sensual haze.

“They should leave you wanting.”

Callie woke late, an instant feeling of nervous apprehension roiling deep within her. For a few, brief moments, her scrambled thoughts failed to pinpoint the reason for the odd sensation—until the events of the previous evening came flooding back, hurling her into vivid consciousness. She shot straight up in bed and froze, eyes wide, hoping that the whole night had been a wild, ridiculous dream.

No luck there.

What had she been thinking traipsing off in the middle of the night to Ralston House? Had she honestly approached the Marquess of Ralston in his bedchamber? Had she really made an overture toward London’s most notorious rake? Surely she hadn’t asked him to kiss her. Remembering her actions, Callie flushed, feeling a wave of heat wash across her face, causing her to drop her head into her hands, groaning in abject mortification.

She would never touch another drop of sherry. Ever again.

Her thoughts raced for a few brief moments, until she raised her head and spoke aloud to the room in horror. “I asked him to kiss me.” Callie flopped back to the bed with a sigh and willed the universe to strike her dead or, at the very least, infirm. She simply could not risk ever facing Gabriel St. John again. Not after that kiss.

But what a kiss it had been. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed at the thought but was unable to avoid the flood of memories that came with it. The kiss had been everything she had ever imagined. It had been more. Ralston had been larger than life, looming above her, his dark hair tousled, his eyes glittering in the soft candlelight of the room, then he had kissed her, all warm lips and strong hands and exquisite man.

Moving of their own volition, Callie’s hands ran down her torso as she remembered the soft stroke of his tongue, the firm grip of his arms. She felt a flood of warmth as she remembered the delicate way his lips had played across hers, the shiver of excitement she’d felt at his breath on her neck. He had been everything she’d ever dreamed.

And when he was through, she had been reduced to rubble. He had said that kisses should leave one wanting…but she had not been prepared for the emptiness that spread through her when he’d stepped back from their embrace, looking as calm and collected as though they’d just been to Sunday services.

She had wanted. She still did.

The whole experience, as embarrassing as it had been, was so fierce and freeing and like nothing she’d ever experienced before, and like everything she’d ever dreamed. And it had been Ralston! It had been a kiss to make up for ten long years spent on the edges of ballrooms, watching him with an endless run of beauties on his arm, a decade of her ears pricking up anytime she heard whispers in ladies’ salons about his latest affairs, an age of tracking his long line of mistresses with what she’d always told herself was idle interest. Of course, there had never been anything idle about her interest.

She shook her head. But men like Ralston were not for women like Callie. If anything, she’d learned that last night. Ralston was all darkness and excitement and adventure…and despite what sherry-laden Callie might have seemed to be the night before…

Well, by the light of day, Callie was none of those things.

But, for one evening, for a fleeting moment, she had been. And what a lovely moment it had been. She’d been bold and forward and decidedly unpassive—reaching for what she knew she might never otherwise have. And, while the previous evening might have taught her that Ralston was not for her, there was certainly no reason why the rest of the things she longed to do couldn’t be entirely attainable.

I could have the list.

The thought emboldened her. She turned instinctively to look at the dainty bedside table upon which she had set the scandalous sheet of paper before climbing into bed. Reaching for the list, she scanned it, a ghost of a smile crossing her lips as she reviewed the words scrawled across it. If the events of last night were any indication, she would enjoy every minute of completing the other items. These nine items were all that stood between Callie and living. All she had to do was take the risk.

And why not do so?

Energized, Callie pushed back the coverlet and emerged from the bed. Squaring her shoulders, she moved across the room to the little writing desk in the corner. Setting down the list, she smoothed out the wrinkled paper and considered the words one more time before reaching for a pen and dipping it in a nearby inkpot. She had kissed someone. And passionately.

In a single fluid motion, she drew a thick, black line through the first item, unable to keep the wide grin from her face. What next?

A quick knock sounded, and Callie watched in her looking glass as the door swung open to reveal her maid. Registering the stern look on the older woman’s face, Callie felt her grin fade as the door clicked shut.

“Good morning, Anne.” She quickly slid the list under a book of Byron’s poetry.

“Calpurnia Hartwell,” Anne said, slowly, “what have you done?”

Callie’s eyes slid away from the older woman, settling on a large mahogany wardrobe. “I should like to get dressed,” she said, brightly, “I have an appointment this morning.”

“With the Marquess of Ralston?”

Callie’s eyes widened. “How did you—What?—No!”

“Really? I find that difficult to believe, considering there is a man from Ralston House downstairs waiting for a response to the missive that just arrived for you.”

Callie’s breath caught as she noticed the piece of paper in the older woman’s hands. She stood, moving across the room. “Let me see.”

Anne crossed her arms across her ample bosom, hiding the missive under one arm. “Why is the Marquess of Ralston sending you messages, Callie?”

Callie flushed. “I—I don’t know.”

“You are a terrible liar. Have been since you were in swaddling clothes.” Anne was like a dog with a bone. “You’ve been pining for Ralston for years, Callie-girl. Why has he suddenly taken an interest?”

“I—he hasn’t!” She attempted a firm tone, extending her hand. “I should like my correspondence, Anne.”

Anne smiled before asking casually, “Were you with Ralston last night?”

Callie froze, heat flooding her cheeks, before blurting out, “Of course not!”

Anne gave her a knowing look. “Well, you were somewhere. I heard you sneak through the servants’ entrance just before sunrise.”

Callie headed for the wardrobe, throwing open the doors to distract herself from the conversation at hand. “You know, Anne, just because you’ve cared for me since birth does not give you leave to speak to me so freely.”

Anne gave a little laugh. “Of course it does.” The maid took advantage of Callie’s movement away from her dressing table, removing the list from its hiding place and reading it.

Callie turned back at Anne’s scandalized gasp. Noting the paper in her maid’s hand, she cried out, “No! Give it back!”

“Callie! What have you done?”

“Nothing!” She snatched the paper back, then paused, taking in Anne’s look of disbelief. “Well, nothing really.”

“That paper doesn’t appear to be nothing.”

“I would prefer not to discuss it.”

“I’m sure you would.”

“It’s nothing. It’s just a list.”

“A scandalous list. Of things that young unmarried females do not do.”

Callie turned back to the wardrobe, shoving her head deep into the piece of furniture in the hopes of ending the conversation. When she pulled a peach day dress out and turned back, Anne was still waiting for a response. With a sigh, she muttered, “Well, perhaps young unmarried females should take advantage of their youthful and unshackled state and try some of those things.”

Anne blinked at the frank words. And then she laughed. “You completed one of these items already.”

“I did.” Callie blushed.

Anne squinted at the paper, making out the obscured words. When she looked up in shock, Callie turned away. “Well, Calpurnia Hartwell. You didn’t waste any time taking what you’ve wanted for years.”

Callie couldn’t help the little smile that played across her lips.

“You were with Ralston last night!”

Callie’s flaming cheeks spoke volumes.

“I shall tell you one thing,” Anne said, a hint pride in her voice. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever known to make a list like that and actually follow through on it.” Her tone shifted, “Of course, if you’re not ruined in a week, I shall be even more surprised than I am now.”

“I have plans to be very careful,” Callie protested.

Anne shook her head. “Unless you work for the War Office, Callie-mine, you can’t do half of the things on that list without your reputation collapsing into the gutter.” She paused. “You do know that, don’t you?”

Callie gave a little nod. “Is it wrong that I don’t much care this morning?”

“Yes. You cannot do it all, Callie. Gamble? At a men’s club? Are you mad?”

Callie grew serious. “No.” The two fell silent for a long moment. Finally, Callie seemed to find the words she was looking for. “But, Anne, it was so wonderful. It was the most incredible, freeing adventure. Can you blame me for wanting more?”

“It appears that you are already getting more than you’ve bargained for. Give me that.” Anne took the peach muslin from Callie and exchanged it for a grass green jaconet day dress.

“What was wrong with the one I chose?”

“Oh, stop pouting. If we are going to Ralston House, this is the gown you’ll wear. You look lovely in green.”

Callie accepted the dress, watching as Anne rummaged for underclothes. “We are not going to Ralston House.”

Anne said nothing, still engrossed by the contents of the wardrobe. Instead, she thrust the missive toward Callie. Ignoring her shaking hands, Callie broke the wax seal, at once desperately curious and filled with dread.