Kitabı oku: «The Regency Season: Decadent Dukes»
CAROLE MORTIMER was born and lives in the UK. She is married to Peter and they have six sons. She has been writing for Mills & Boon since 1978, and is the author of 200 books. Carole is a USA TODAY bestselling author, and in 2012 she was recognised by Queen Elizabeth II for her ‘outstanding contribution to literature.’
Visit Carole at carolemortimer.co.uk or on Facebook.
MILLS & BOON
Before you start reading, why not sign up?
Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!
SIGN ME UP!
Or simply visit
signup.millsandboon.co.uk
Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
About the Author
Rufus Drake: Duke of Wickedness
Back Cover Text
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Griffin Stone: Duke of Decadence
Back Cover Text
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Christian Seaton: Duke of Danger
Back Cover Text
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Copyright
Rufus Drake: Duke of Wickedness
Carole Mortimer
A tantalizing bargain…
When innocent Anna Bishop finds herself in a compromising position, the only person who can save her is Rufus Drake, notorious rogue, new Duke of Northamptonshire and the man upon whose lands she’s trespassing! But the duke’s help comes with conditions…
The deal: a single kiss in exchange for his assistance.
The complication: that one kiss unleashes an insatiable desire and, suddenly, a single taste can never be enough…for Rufus or for Anna!
Dangerous Dukes
Rakes about town
To Peter, as always.
Chapter One
Late July, 1815
Northamptonshire, England
“Sir, are you aware that you are trespassing on the Duke of Northamptonshire’s estate?”
Rufus Drake, who was the aforementioned Duke of Northamptonshire, had very recently jumped down from his horse on this warm July day. He’d undressed down to his drawers, with the intention of swimming naked in the pool situated in the woods of said estate, in the hopes it would refresh him after the dusty and tiring two days of riding up from London.
He instantly froze in the action of unfastening his drawers at the sound of the disembodied female voice, and instead gave a narrow-eyed glance about him to locate the owner of the huskily pleasant voice.
“I am up here, sir. And I would appreciate it if you would cover yourself before continuing this conversation!”
Rufus surveyed the surrounding trees, his dark brows rising above his vivid green eyes as he spotted a pair of female legs dangling down from a nearby horse-chestnut tree. Completely bare and very curvaceous female legs.
He abandoned the idea of removing his drawers, but did not replace his shirt as he strolled over to stand beneath the tree, slightly taken aback as he looked up into the dappled green branches and saw the young and beautiful owner of those legs. Her missing stockings and dainty cream boots were resting upon her knees as she perched on the branch slightly above his head.
Her slender fingers clutched the branch for balance, and were completely bare of rings, indicating she was an unmarried lady. Nor was there maid or companion with her anywhere that Rufus could see. Meaning she was very much alone here in the woods.
With him.
Huge blue eyes looked down at him from a flushed heart-shaped face, her nose slightly upturned, her lips surprisingly full and sensual. Riotous blonde curls were secured upon the crown of her head, with several damp tendrils falling about her creamy white shoulders above a white muslin gown decorated with tiny green leaves.
A gown that currently appeared to be caught on the branch above and behind her as she once again attempted, and failed, to pull the material down to cover her legs. The loosened bodice of the gown gaped open as she bent forward, to reveal the tops of full and creamy breasts.
A state of undress which would seem to indicate, added to her damp tendrils of hair curling at her throat and nape, that she had also recently been tempted by the lure of a cooling swim in the pond.
Rufus’s appreciative gaze returned to that obviously discomforted face. “It would seem that you are in almost as much of a state of undress as I,” he drawled dryly.
The blush deepened in her cheeks. “And I would appreciate it if you would stop ogling, sir!”
He gave an unapologetic grin as he continued to look up at her appreciatively. “Are you perhaps a wood nymph?” he teased.
Her eyes snapped with impatience. “There is no such thing as a wood nymph.”
“No?”
“Absolutely not,” she assured him with a practicality totally at odds with that throaty, seductive voice.
“You are not a wood nymph, and obviously you cannot be the Duke of Northamptonshire himself, so surely you must also trespassing?” he drawled pointedly.
Another firm shake of her riotous golden curls. “I have the duke’s permission to…to stroll through the woods here.”
Rufus raised an eyebrow beneath the fall of his ebony-dark hair. “Indeed?”
“Yes.” She nodded emphatically.
As Rufus had never so much as set eyes on this enchanting female in all his two and thirty years, he knew that it was not this
Duke of Northamptonshire who had given his permission.
Of course it could have been either of his two cousins, or perhaps their father, his paternal uncle, before them.
As the only child of the second son born to the previous, previous, previous Duke of Northampton, Rufus had not expected to ever hold the title himself. Except that Rufus’s own father had died shortly after he had been born, and unfortunately his uncle along with both his cousins had also perished in the past three years. The former to a seizure of the heart, his elder cousin to influenza, and the younger when he succumbed two days later to the injuries he had received at the battle of Waterloo.
Nor had either of his two cousins ever married and produced an heir. The elder because his inclinations ran in quite another direction, and he had refused to even contemplate the taking of a wife. The younger cousin, David, should have been married but had died before the wedding could take place.
Which had left Rufus, as the only Drake still alive, to inherit the Northamptonshire title and estates.
And damned irritating it was too, after all his years spent about Town as the infamous and rakish Mr Rufus Drake, the unashamedly vastly wealthy business entrepreneur. As the untitled third grandson of a duke, it had been required that Rufus provide his own fortune. Which, if he did say so himself, he had succeeded in doing exceedingly well, helped along by a small inheritance left to him by his maternal grandmother. He was now one of the wealthiest gentlemen in England.
His maternal cousin Zachary Black, the Duke of Hawksmere, had laughed uncontrollably when informed that Rufus was now the Duke of Northamptonshire. Mainly because Rufus had teased his cousin unmercifully over the years at Zachary’s certainty of inheriting their grandfather Black’s title, while Rufus could continue merrily on, free of such responsibilities.
Admittedly, Hawksmere, once that humour had passed, had then invited Rufus to be an honorary member of the Dangerous Dukes, an exclusive group of gentlemen consisting of Zachary and his four closest friends. As an aside to that honorary membership, Rufus had further been invited to join them as an agent for the Crown. Which was Rufus’s main reason for being in Northamptonshire at all.
Rufus had received a letter just days ago from Matthew Turner, the estate manager Rufus had personally hired the previous month to oversee the Banbury Hall estate, after receiving word that the previous estate manager, Jacob Harker, had absconded into the night. Turner had since discovered that Harker had also taken that month’s rents from Rufus’s tenants with him when he left, and suggested in his letter that perhaps Rufus might himself wish to look into the matter more fully himself.
Rufus had no interest in the pittance that had been stolen, but the previous estate manager’s sudden disappearance was now of deep interest to him after what he had learnt from his cousin Zachary a week or so ago.
It transpired that just weeks before the battle of Waterloo there had been a plot afoot to assassinate the Prince Regent, and so throw the country into chaos. It had been discovered that several government secretaries along with servants in prominent households in England had been involved in that plot.
Rufus had decided it was now incumbent upon him to look more closely into why his previous estate manager had absconded so suddenly and, if possible, ascertain as to whether or not he had been part of the ring of spies working against the Crown.
That being so, Rufus had risen very early yesterday morning, instructed his valet to pack up enough of his clothes for months, just in case, and to then travel to Northamptonshire by coach. Then Rufus had set off alone on horseback for his ducal estate.
He had travelled a long way yesterday, and the inn he had stayed at the previous night had been passable at best. After another overly warm morning of travel he had been tempted, upon arrival at his estate, to take a dip in the pool he remembered so affectionately from his visits there as a child.
This delay was partly because of the need to refresh himself, but also, he admitted, to a reluctance on his part to actually make his presence known at Banbury Hall for a while longer.
Was it possible the enticing nymph in the tree was the daughter of his new estate manager? He vaguely recalled that Turner had told him that he was widowed but had a daughter. Although what the age of that daughter might be, Rufus had not enquired; a month ago he had merely been relieved to pass on the onerous task of running Banbury Hall to someone other than himself.
The young lady perched so prettily above him certainly looked as if she might be that worthy gentleman’s daughter; whilst her gown was not of the finest quality, it was nevertheless modish in style, as was the set of her golden curls, and the cream leather boots were surely too fine to belong to a daughter of one of his tenants.
“May I enquire as to your name, miss?” he prompted huskily.
She looked slightly taken aback. “Are you not going to dress yourself first?”
Rufus held back a grin at her persistence in wishing to avoid looking at the nakedness of his chest. “Your name, miss?”
“I— It is— You may call me Juliet,” she announced grandly.
Rufus knew instinctively that there was something not quite right with that statement. Admittedly, the name was fitting, considering her place above him in the tree. But he was certainly not her, nor any woman’s, doting Romeo! “And is that actually your name?” he drawled sceptically.
“Well, not exactly,” she conceded. “But it is my middle name, and comes from—”
“I am well aware of where it comes from,” Rufus assured dryly. He was not a complete ignoramus; as the grandson of two dukes he had suffered through the requisite years at Eton and Oxford. The fact that this young lady also appeared to have received some education would seem to confirm Rufus’s earlier assumption that she might very well be the daughter of his new estate manager. “I would simply prefer to address you by your given name.”
She gave a heavy sigh. “It is nowhere near as pretty as Juliet.”
Rufus held back a smile, finding himself exceedingly—and surprisingly—diverted by this young woman. The long years he had spent in London, and just a month of holding the title of duke, had rendered him more than a little jaded where the female sex was concerned. “Nevertheless...”
“It is Anna.” She grimaced. “Plain, uninteresting Anna.”
There was nothing in the least plain or uninteresting about this woman. The opposite, in fact. She was beautiful, diverting, and her state of dishabille was having the most delicious effect upon Rufus’s libido.
“And might I also know your name, sir?”
Rufus had been grandly named after his two ducal grandfathers, his father and his mother’s brother, as Harold Algernon Edward Rufus Drake, but from birth had been known to the family and friends alike by the last of his illustrious names.
“Rufus.” He saw no sign of recognition of his name in her candid blue eyes. “Would you care to explain, Anna, why is it you are currently sitting up in that tree sans your stockings and boots if you were just strolling through the woods?”
* * *
Anna frowned her dismay, sensing, despite his politely enquiring expression, that he was somehow mocking her. And possibly with good reason, when she was indeed so scantily clad. He was also, Anna conceded, a gentleman more disturbing and handsome than she had ever encountered before.
Disturbing, because as an unmarried lady she had never before engaged in a conversation with a gentleman whilst he was dressed only his drawers. Indeed, she had never before seen a gentleman wearing only his drawers.
The skin of his bared torso was a warm olive-brown. His shoulders were broad, his chest and arms muscled. She observed with fascination the silky down of dark ebony that tapered down over his chest and stomach to disappear into the waistband of his drawers. She noted that his waist was lean and narrow above muscled thighs and legs.
From her position above him, Anna was also able to recognise that he was at least ten years older than her own twenty years, as well as exceedingly tall. True, most people were taller than her five feet, but this gentleman would surely tower over her by a foot or more.
He was a gentleman with fashionably overlong and tousled hair as black as midnight, and eyes the green of sparkling emeralds surrounded by thick, lush dark lashes, his nose long and aristocratic, with high cheekbones beneath taut flesh, and his mouth—
Oh dear me, his mouth!
This man had the most wickedly sensual and mocking mouth, the bottom lip slightly fuller than the top, set above a square and arrogant jaw.
As for the reason why she was currently sitting up in this tree, with her gown unfastened down her back and her stockings and boots upon her knees?
Propriety dictated she should not have been walking alone in the woods at all, of course. Nor did she, as she had claimed earlier, have an acquaintance with the new Duke of Northamptonshire.
But the duke was safely in London, and Anna had not considered it would matter, once she reached this secluded pond amongst the woods of Banbury Hall, if she were to take a cooling dip.
Consequently, she had been happily indulging when she had heard the approach of a horse wending its way through the trees. She’d been left with no choice but to hastily wade out of the water and pull her gown on over the dampness of her chemise before hurriedly picking up the rest of her belongings and giving a hunted look about her surroundings.
She had hoped only to need to hide up in the tree until the horse and its rider had passed by, but had instead watched in horror as the man had halted and dismounted when he’d reached the pond.
He had then removed his hat and sat down on the grass to remove his black Hessians. He followed swiftly with his jacket, waistcoat, cravat and shirt, the latter revealing that magnificently muscled chest.
Anna’s heart had begun to pound in her chest when he had proceeded to unfasten and remove his pantaloons. Allowing him to see her own state of dress was completely scandalous, but watching this handsome gentleman undress was surely even more so.
Except Anna had been unable to stop herself enjoying the experience.
Chapter Two
“Anna? I asked why you are currently sitting up in that tree….”
Guilty tears filled her eyes as she desperately sought for some explanation other than the truth. Her brother Mark would not be displeased but disappointed if he were to learn of her impetuous actions.
Perhaps if her mother had lived, Anna might have been able to talk to her of the terrible restlessness that sometimes overcame her. The aching need inside her for adventure and excitement, and the desire she felt to break free of the shackles her lowly station in life had placed upon her.
She had once talked to her papa about those feelings, and she had thought he understood, but not Mark. Her brother was so good and kind, and perfectly content with his life as parson of the parish. Which was, of course, to be commended.
Except...
Anna’s own feelings of restlessness had become greater of late rather than less. So much so that she now often escaped the parsonage to be on her own, to pretend that she was not herself at all but was instead a lady of the world, and that she could travel to London if she cared to. To Cairo. The Americas. That she might go anywhere she chose.
But in none of those daydreams had Anna ever envisaged finding herself in such a scandalous situation, and with a gentleman as rakishly handsome as the one standing in front of her.
Everything about him spoke of wealth and privilege, from the beautiful black stallion he rode to the perfectly tailored clothes he had so carelessly dropped onto the grass as he undressed. He possessed that air of bored cynicism so many of the gentlemen seemed to wear about them like a mantle.
Could he not see, could none of them see, how lucky they were just to be men? To have the freedom to do what they wanted, and go where they wanted, whenever they wanted?
“I am still waiting, Anna.”
She cast off the feelings of melancholy, raising her chin determinedly, even as she inwardly asked for forgiveness for the untruths she was about to tell. “As I have said, I was strolling through the woods—”
“Trespassing.”
Anna ignored the jibe as she continued with her tale. “When I heard a poor little kitten meowing for help from up in a tree—”
“This very tree?”
“And being a good Samaritan,” Anna continued doggedly, despite his mockery, “I, of course, had no choice but to climb the tree and offer my help.”
“Would you not have climbed the tree more comfortably if you had continued to wear your boots?” her tormentor taunted as he leaned comfortably against the trunk and looked up at her, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes almost on a level with her bared limbs.
Anna tried again to pull her gown down—to no avail; it really was stuck fast on the branch slightly above and behind her. “I had to take off my boots so that I might remove my stockings. They are both expensive, you see, and I did not wish to damage them.”
“Very commendable of you,” he drawled.
“Unfortunately,” she continued determinedly, “once I had climbed up here, the kitten decided it did not need my help after all and it jumped nimbly to the ground before running off.”
“Very ungrateful of it,” her tormentor nodded with a gravity that was completely nullified by the humour she could see glittering in his mocking eyes.
“Whereas I,” Anna stated firmly, “appear to have caught my gown on a branch and am now stuck fast.”
Rufus could see that, and he could recognise the blush of guilt colouring her creamy cheeks for exactly what it was. He had been a major in the king’s army, and in charge of dozens of mostly reluctant soldiers, and as such he was certainly capable of identifying a lie when he was told one. “Tell me, Anna,” he drawled as he straightened, “was there even one word of truth in that pretty story?”
That guilty flush deepened in her cheeks. “Are you calling me a liar, sir?”
“Oh yes,” Rufus confirmed without hesitation. “As I said, it was a pretty tale, and very well narrated, but all a lie, nonetheless.”
Blue eyes warred with his unwavering green ones for several long seconds before she lowered her lashes and gave a defeated sigh. “I really was strolling through the woods initially,” she murmured softly.
“And latterly?”
She grimaced. “It has been so hot these past few days, and the pool looked so inviting.” She gave another sigh. “But then I heard your horse approaching through the trees, causing me to leave the water wearing only my chemise. I gathered up my things, and hoped by climbing the tree you would not see me as you rode past.”
Rufus glanced across to where his horse, Caesar, was unconcernedly cropping grass, and inwardly cursed the black stallion for having made so much noise on their approach. Seeing this beautiful and outspoken young woman dressed only in her wet undergarments would no doubt have been extremely pleasurable.
Almost as pleasurable as when she had looked her fill of his bare chest.
“Except I did not ride past,” he stated the obvious.
“No,” she accepted heavily.
He nodded. “Your gown is stuck fast, you said?”
“Yes.” She gave another ineffectual tug on the offending garment.
“Perhaps you might behave the gentleman and help me to become unstuck?” She added with what was no doubt intended to be a charming flutter of her long and silky eyelashes.
It was an affectation that had quite the opposite effect on Rufus as he was sure it was intended to have. He could no longer hold back his humour at the situation, as he first began to chuckle and then to laugh outright.
Anna did not see anything in the least amusing about her current dilemma, doubly offended as the gentleman rested his hands on his muscled thighs to bend over at the waist, completely overcome with laughter.
At her expense.
Which was not at all flattering when her intention had been to charm.
“I am glad you find this situation amusing, sir,” she finally snapped frostily.
He continued to chuckle for several more moments before finally straightening. “I find you entertaining, Anna,” he corrected gruffly. “Tell me, does the helpless fluttering of your eyelashes usually work on unsuspecting gentlemen?”
Anna gave a disgruntled frown as she admitted, “Always.”
“Utter fools, all of them!” He gave a bemused shake of his head. “And what makes you think I might be a gentleman?”
Anna swallowed warily as she saw there was now a predatory edge to his gaze as he looked up at her in challenge, again making her aware of the depth of the danger she had placed herself in with her impulsiveness.
After all, she knew nothing about this man, other than he was obviously wealthy and that his name was Rufus. And that she was currently vulnerable to his every whim.
Anna moistened the dryness of her lips with the tip of her tongue.
“One must have faith in human nature, sir.”
“Must one?” Rufus murmured as he watched the movements of that little pink tongue and imagined how its soft heat would feel running the length of him. Imagery which instantly sent his libido up another notch.
“Yes, of course one must,” she answered him firmly. “As such, I would very much appreciate your assistance in disentangling me from this branch.”
Rufus ran his tongue across his lips. “How much?”
She gave him a startled glance. “Pardon me?”
“How much would you appreciate my assistance in untangling you?” Rufus prompted huskily.
She blinked her long lashes, not with the intention of flirting this time, but out of nervousness. “I do not understand,” she finally murmured uncertainly.
Rufus could see the truth of that in her gaze, and was reminded that this young woman was at least ten years his junior, and possibly also the innocent daughter of his new estate manager at Banbury Hall.
But no one could ever accuse Rufus of behaving sensibly.
At least, they had never accused Mr Rufus Drake of behaving sensibly.
Nor, Rufus decided impatiently, did he intend for the Duke of Northamptonshire to become so inured in that role he allowed himself to become staid and stuffy.
“It is quite simple, Miss Anna,” he drawled mockingly. “What will you give me if I help to unhook your gown from the branch above you?”
Her slender throat moved as she gave another swallow. “I— As you can see only too well, I have nothing on my person I might give you.”
“Except for yourself.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “I— How dare you!” she gasped in outrage. “I have not— I do not— I am not that type of woman.”
Rufus could see by her indignation that she certainly had not. “I am only requesting a kiss, Anna, not marriage,” he assured dryly, having discovered since inheriting the Drake title that a duke was a far more marriageable commodity than a mere mister, even one as independently wealthy as he was.
As such, the marriage-minded mamas of the ton had done nothing but thrust their daughters at him this past month whenever the Duke of Northamptonshire had appeared in public, to such a degree that Rufus had quickly learned not to appear in public. Even the sophisticated widows of the ton, with whom he had associated so congenially with before inheriting the title, now seemed to look upon him with avaricious eyes rather than come-hither ones.
Consequently Rufus had soon started to avoid those ladies too, resulting in there being a distinct lack of physical dalliance or relief these past few weeks.
Indeed, since inheriting the title Rufus had formed a new respect for his cousin Zachary and the other Dangerous Dukes, for having managed to avoid the parson’s mousetrap for as long as they had.
Although that was no longer true, since his cousin and two of his close friends had all married in recent months.
Rufus had always relished his freedom too much to have even the vaguest intention of joining their number. He enjoyed too much being able to bed whomever he chose, whenever, to even think of marriage to one single woman.
But, as he had already stated, his thoughts were not of marriage. “A kiss is not too much to ask for rescuing you, is it, Anna?” he now cajoled temptingly.
Despite her feelings of restlessness, those wistful hopes and dreams she had of a different, more exciting life, Anna had necessarily led something of a sheltered existence up till now. But not so sheltered that she had not suffered the occasional kiss on the cheek—or on one distasteful occasion, clumsily on the lips—from the young men in the area who had thought they might be allowed to court her.
The difference being, of course, that the man she knew only as Rufus was not a young beau interested in courting her, but a rakish gentleman who wished only to claim a kiss. He was also, Anna recalled with a quiver of delicious anticipation, a man who boldly claimed she should not assume he was a gentleman.
Here, standing before her, was the adventure, the illicit excitement she had so longed for.
And, really, how terrible could it be, to allow herself to be kissed by a man as handsome and assured as this one? A man Anna was sure would know exactly how to kiss a woman, so that she also enjoyed the experience?
“Are you visiting with people in the area?” she questioned warily. The last thing she wanted was to later discover that she had allowed herself to be kissed by a gentleman who was staying in Northamptonshire with friends or relatives she might also know.
His jaw tightened. “I am not.”
“Then you are merely travelling through?” she prompted just to be certain.
He gave a wicked rake of a smile. “Merely travelling through the woods, yes,” he nodded.
Anna gave a relieved sigh. “Very well, one kiss.” She gave a haughty inclination of her head. “If you will help untangle my gown and assist me down from this tree.”
“That would appear to be two kisses.”
Her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
“The price of the original kiss was for untangling your gown,” her tormentor drawled. “The second is for helping you down from the tree.”
Anna glared at him. “You, sir, are an opportunist.”
“Yes,” he confirmed unapologetically.
Anna was sure she had never met a man more infuriating, more audacious, more outrageous, more intriguingly, meltingly roguish as this one.
Chapter Three
“Should you not put on your pantaloons first?” Anna prompted in alarm as Rufus began to climb the tree with the dexterity of one of the primates she had once seen pictured in a book in her father’s study.
He paused briefly, the warmth of his breath currently fanning across her exposed knees. “They are expensive and I would not wish to damage them,” he mockingly returned her own earlier comment in regard to her lack of stockings and boots.
Anna’s trepidation grew as she realised just how vulnerable she was to whatever this man might wish to take from her.
Or, more worryingly, what she might wish to give.
Heat suffused the whole of her body as he continued to climb the tree, and she realised as he did so just how big he was. Everywhere. His tanned shoulders really were impossibly wide, and the bareness of his chest, with that down of silky black hair, was far too warm and immediate as he reached up past her to grasp on to the branch above, so that he might release the back of her gown, before then twisting his body round to sit on the branch beside her.
A warmth and immediacy that caused Anna to tremble as he sat far too close to her, the bare skin of his shoulder warm against her own, and allowing her to smell citrus and spice on his body, his cologne, along with a musky, totally male smell that she found equally as enticing.
“One,” he murmured pointedly.
Anna could make no pretence of not knowing what he was referring to, and her heart gave a leap in her chest as her gaze lowered to his chiselled lips just inches away from her own.
Sculptured lips. Wickedly sensual lips that surely did know exactly how to kiss a woman.
Her eyes widened as he slowly licked his bottom lip, before drawing it enticingly into his mouth with his teeth.
Rufus recognised Anna’s flush of arousal for what it was, and he realised too that he was enjoying himself, more than he could remember doing in a very long time. Years, perhaps. If ever?
He had taken bachelor apartments in London after finishing with Oxford, and the past ten years had seen his fortunes change dramatically. He had no interest in cards or a life of idleness, but had instead concentrated on his investments, doubling his money within months, before investing further.
Until one day Rufus realised he had so much money he could easily buy himself a house in one of the most fashionable areas in London, along with the servants needed to run such a residence, whilst he quietly continued to amass even more wealth.
He had enjoyed the company of ladies during those years too, of course. Very much so. He had stayed well clear of married ladies, however, nor had he wished to become entrapped into a marriage with one of the simpering young debutantes of the Season.
The young debutantes and their families were desperate to make a match to one of the richest men in England. His family connection to the prestigious Dukes of Hawksmere and Northamptonshire were not to be dismissed, either.
Cynical perhaps, but Rufus had no illusions in regard to London Society and how those loveless marriages were decided upon. And he wanted no part of it—not the suitable marriage, nor the demure miss, who would no doubt have been advised by her mother to lie passive and unmoving in the marriage bed while her husband impregnated her. After which she could banish him from her bed until her lying in was over. When the whole miserable cycle would begin all over again.
An heir was now necessary, of course, but Rufus had every intention of choosing his own wife when the time came.
The young woman seated on the branch beside him was not of the ton, nor was she a married lady or a simpering debutante. Nor did the circumstance of their meeting—she was currently as unclothed by choice as he was!—lend itself to any outraged cries of ruination on her part, if he should steal a kiss. Or two.
Which Rufus had every intention of doing.
Sitting as close as they now were, Rufus could appreciate just how delectably kissable Anna’s slightly moistened lips were. They were naturally rosy in colour, and there was an endearing dip in the centre of the fuller lower lip.
Her unfastened gown was still gaping down slightly at the front, allowing him a tantalising glimpse of her wet chemise as it clung damply to the fullness of her breasts, tipped with pert nipples the same rosy-red colour as her lips.
To kiss or touch those would be going too far, but that did not mean Rufus could not be aroused by the sight of them.
He raised a hand to cup her cheeks, her skin feeling as soft and smooth as silk as he turned her face gently towards him.
Her eyes widened in alarm as Rufus held that gaze to slowly lower his head towards hers.
She gasped softly. “Perhaps we should not do this.”
And perhaps, if Anna’s breath had not been so soft and fragrantly warm against his lips, if she had attempted to avoid his kiss by turning away, then he might have been able to resist.
As it was, Anna did none of those things, but instead remained as still as a statue as Rufus placed his lips gently against hers
He pulled back only slightly. “Open,” he encouraged gently.
“Open?” she asked, breathing softly.
Rufus ran the tip of his finger lightly across her lips, parting them slightly before once again claiming them with his own.
She tasted delicious. A combination of honey and mint, the latter a freshness that made his lips tingle, followed by that tempting sweetness. The enticing dip in her bottom lip begged to be tasted by his tongue before he slid fully into the heat of her mouth.
Rufus continued to kiss her, to taste her, as he pressed back against the trunk of the tree, his arm about the slenderness of her waist as he pulled her in tight against him, the softness of her breasts pressed against the hardness of his bare chest.
He groaned low in his throat as he felt the shy, tentative stroke of Anna’s tongue against his own. Then she became bolder still, sucking his tongue deeper into her mouth, slowly at first, and then more demandingly as her confidence grew.
Anna came to her senses with a gasp, wrenching her mouth from Rufus’s the moment she felt a firm and hot hand cupping her breast, his knowing fingertips caressing the swollen and sensitised tip.
She used her free hand to push against his chest as he seemed reluctant to release her, her eyes wide, cheeks flushed, her breasts—the breasts he had touched so intimately!—rising and falling as she breathed quickly.
She had never experienced such a kiss, such searing intimacy, in all of her life before today.
She had meant the kiss to be merely a meeting of lips, in order to satisfy her side of the bargain, but the way that Rufus had kissed her—and she had kissed him—was nothing, absolutely nothing, like any other kisses Anna had suffered through in the past.
Instead she had felt claimed by him, by having his tongue in her mouth. Had felt as if she claimed him when she had felt drawn to return his passion.
His firm and chiselled lips had initially been surprisingly soft against her own, causing excitement to flutter wildly beneath her breasts. And her breasts had seemed to swell beneath the dampness of her chemise as the kiss continued, the rosy tips becoming an aching tingle, with an unaccustomed warmth spreading through the whole of her body before it had centred as a pleasant ache between her thighs.
It was an excitement that Anna had thoroughly enjoyed, until she had felt that hand cup her breast, and realised she had put a stop to these unexpected intimacies. Before it was too late.
The fact that she had needed to place her hand on the muscled nakedness of Rufus’s chest in order to push him away, and that her hand still rested against it, caused her to recoil back so sharply that she lost her balance on the branch completely.
“Steady, Anna!” Rufus warned harshly as he reached out to clasp both of her arms to prevent her from falling, his back pushing harder, painfully so, against the rough bark of the tree trunk behind him in order to maintain his own balance. “Perhaps we should get down from here? Before one or both of us is injured,” he added grimly, his lids narrowed to hide the expression in his eyes.
How had this woman aroused him so quickly and so heatedly? So thoroughly that he had touched her more intimately than he’d intended. To the degree that he had been on the edge of losing all control.
He was a man of two and thirty, and had bedded more women than he cared to remember since losing his virginity at the age of sixteen. The intervening years had rendered him both jaded and cynical where women were concerned, and he now approached all sexual liaisons with the same lack of emotions. All he wanted from his encounters was a release of his sexual tensions.
What happened just now had felt neither jaded nor cynical, but fresher and more arousing than anything Rufus had experienced before. Just as Anna herself possessed that same freshness of spirit.
Because she was fresh, you idiot, he rebuked himself. Any fool could see that Anna, despite the sharpness of her tongue, was a virgin, an innocent.
He had not meant to go so far as he had. He’d intended only to kiss her, to have a little fun himself, whilst at the same time punishing Anna a little for her recklessness in being alone out here in the woods, making herself vulnerable to any man who happened by. That the man had been him was purely coincidental.
One touch of Anna’s parted lips beneath his, the shy and then demanding caress of her tongue, and Rufus had felt himself stir with a pulsing, aching need for more. So very much more.
And that, Rufus old chap, is the road to perdition!
Because no father was going to allow a man—even a duke!—to take his daughter’s virginity without demanding some sort of recompense.
“I shall go down first,” Rufus rasped harshly before releasing her to turn away and begin his descent, his thoughts grim.
If Anna had not stopped him when she had—
Then both of them would have tumbled out of the tree and put an end to the disturbing interlude that way, Rufus assured himself, his good sense having returned to him the farther he removed himself from the lure of the warmth of Anna’s mouth and body. There was not even the possibility, even if he were to have practised all of his considerable sexual inventiveness, that the two of them would have been able to deepen the intimacy whilst still up in the branches of a tree.
Of course, he still had to resist kissing her again once they were both down on the ground, but good sense told him he had best do exactly that if he did not wish to make this situation even worse than it already was.
How the two of them behaved towards each other when they met again, probably in the presence of Anna’s father, was a subject for conjecture, but Rufus did not imagine that Anna would any more welcome her father knowing of her scandalous behaviour today than Rufus would.
No, it had been a pleasant interlude but it was not one Rufus believed it wise to repeat. His responses to her warned him that he should not demand that second kiss.
Rufus kept his movements brisk and impersonal, his gaze averted from that sensuous mouth and those creamy breasts, as he helped Anna to descend the tree. “Turn around,” he instructed briskly once she stood in front of him, intending to refasten the buttons at the back of her still-gaping gown.
Anna felt slightly befuddled as she obediently turned her back towards Rufus, disturbed by her reaction to being so thoroughly kissed, and by a man she had only just met.
His responses to her, the low groans in his throat, and the way his hands had roamed restlessly over her back before cupping her breast, had proved that he truly was not a gentleman.
Her confusion increased as she saw his expression was one of haughty remoteness as he turned away to pull on his own clothes. She sat down on the grass to put on her stockings and boots. It was almost as if he had not just kissed her so passionately, touched her more intimately than any other man ever had.
Nor had he made any demand for a second kiss in return for helping her down from the tree.
She eyed him uncertainly as she stood up slowly. “I…thank you for your help,” she murmured hoarsely.
He was now fully dressed, his glance impersonal, as he swung easily up into the saddle of his restlessly prancing stallion. “I advise that you do not make a habit of venturing out in these woods alone.” His mouth twisted into the semblance of a mocking smile. “Another man might not be so reluctant to take what you offer!”
Anna gasped at the deliberate insult. “I did not offer, you took!”
He looked down the length of his aristocratic nose at her. “You may tell yourself that if you wish.”
Anna felt the guilty colour heat her cheeks as she knew she had been a more than willing participant to their lovemaking.
Something a gentleman would most certainly not have brought to her attention.
She glared up at him. “I do believe I dislike you intensely.”
“Keep telling yourself that, my love, if it pleases you.” Rufus gave a mocking laugh as he doffed his hat and bowed in a caricature of politeness. “I will wish you a good day, Anna Juliet.” He placed his hat firmly back on his head before turning Caesar, not giving so much as a glance back as he urged the stallion through the canopy of trees and out onto the fields leading up to the majestic red-stoned residence that was the seat of the Duke of Northamptonshire.
Rufus continued to rebuke himself for his actions as he allowed Caesar his head. For allowing an innocent such as Anna to arouse him so completely he had forgotten who he was. Who she was.
A rebuke that became even more immediate when the first person he saw, as he rode into the cobbled stable yard of Banbury Hall, was Matthew Turner.
The older man was in conversation with one of the maids, but he excused himself immediately to hurry across the yard as he recognised Rufus. “It is very good to see you here, Your Grace,” he greeted as he took Caesar’s reins, a pleased smile lighting up his weathered face.
“I believe you wrote requesting my presence,” Rufus reminded abruptly as he dismounted, not at all sure how he should deal with this man after the earlier liberties he had taken with Turner’s daughter.
The older man immediately sobered. “Of course.” He nodded. “But first let me introduce you to my daughter.” He smiled proudly as he turned and beckoned for the maid to join them.
Well, this woman was clearly not the one he’d kissed so passionately in the woods just now.
And if Anna was not Matthew Turner’s daughter, then who the hell was she?
Where was she?
Chapter Four
“I must say, I was very surprised to learn that it was the parson’s sister who lied to me so brazenly on the last occasion we met.”
Anna stiffened, her back turned towards the owner of the voice as she knelt in the parsonage garden weeding the bed of herbs.
It would be an understatement for her to claim she had been dreading this meeting after the village became abuzz with the news that the new Duke of Northamptonshire had arrived unexpectedly three days ago and was now in residence at Banbury Hall.
Anna had not believed the duke’s unexpected arrival and her own meeting that same day with the stranger in the woods could possibly have been a coincidence; they simply did not have that many visitors riding through the parish in one day. Consequently, she had reluctantly been forced to accept that it was more than a possibility that the Duke of Northamptonshire was the same handsome gentleman who had stripped down to his drawers in front of her startled—and avid—gaze.
The same outrageous gentleman who had then teased and flirted with her.
The very same wicked man who had climbed a tree in order to assist her only so that he might claim a kiss as his reward! A kiss that had caused Anna to blush, warm and tremble with pleasure every time she had thought of it since.
She forced down those feelings as she rose slowly to her feet before turning to face the man who had surely come here to taunt and torment her for her past behaviour.
Anna was very much aware that he had once again found her in disarray; she always wore one of her oldest gowns for gardening, and her hair was slightly dishevelled from her exertions in the herb bed.
In comparison, the duke looked a picture of sartorial elegance, in a deep blue superfine with a silver paisley waistcoat over his snowy white linen.
He leaned confidently on the top of low wall surrounding the garden at the back of the parsonage as he nodded to her in mocking salute.
“I have asked forgiveness for the lie.” Anna’s gaze dropped from his. “Can you claim to have done the same, as you also lied to me when you said you were not visiting people in the area?” she reminded huskily.
“I did not lie, Anna,” Rufus denied smoothly. “I admitted only to travelling through the woods. And I could hardly claim to be visiting myself,” he reasoned.
Her eyes flashed deeply blue as she looked up at him. “A simple acknowledgement of being the Duke of Northamptonshire would have sufficed, as I am sure you are well aware.”
Rufus could not help but smile at this show of her previous sharpness with him, laying his hat on top of the wall and placing a hand beside it before jumping nimbly over into the garden.
“What are you doing?” Anna took a step back, having raised her hands to her breasts in alarm.
He strolled unconcernedly down the pathway to join her. “I have no intention of conversing with a wall between us when anyone might walk past and overhear us talking.”
That sentiment was all well and good, as Anna had no wish for anyone else to learn of the circumstance of their previous acquaintance either, but Rufus was now standing far too close to her.
So close, in fact, that he was able to reach out and take one of her hands in his. “There is no reason for you to fight me, Anna.” He frowned as she instantly attempted to release her hand. “Better.” He nodded as she reluctantly stilled but continued to regard him warily. “The truth of the matter is, I am still becoming accustomed to the fact that is who I now am. I was not born to be a duke, Anna,” he added as her gaze became quizzical.
Anna gave a slow shake of her head. “I do not understand.”
He smiled ruefully. “I am the third grandson of my grandfather, the only son born to his second son, and until five weeks ago I was just plain and uninteresting Mr Rufus Drake,” he dryly reminded her of her opinion of her own name in the woods that day. “I should never have become a duke, Anna, and truly wish I had never inherited,” he added grimly.
She gave a snort. “That is ridiculous!”
“Is it?” he mused softly.
“Of course,” she dismissed impatiently. “What gentleman would not wish to become a duke?”
“This one,” Rufus assured her, aware that his body was once again responding with its usual wilfulness at her close proximity.
Three days ago, Rufus had known his arousal was such that he had to get away from this young woman, or else break every rule he had ever set himself in regard to innocents.
And to Rufus’s chagrin and surprise, little else had occupied his thoughts but this young woman since.
No matter how hard he tried, he had been unable to rid himself of the memory of how soft and silky her skin had felt beneath his fingertips that day. How full and responsive her breasts. And her passion had been more than a match for his own as she’d returned the intimacy of his kisses. As for her taste... Rufus believed he had developed an addiction to that unique taste of honey and mint.
His mouth tightened as he recalled the last three frustrating days spent trying to ascertain the identity of his little wood nymph. Not as easy a task as it might have initially seemed.
He had not spent any time at Banbury Hall since he was a child; the Drake family was not a close or mutually sociable one, and as such he had absolutely no idea who Anna could be once he realised she was not Turner’s daughter after all.
The situation was one of delicacy. To ask outright for the surname and whereabouts of a girl called Anna would have placed them both in a questionable position.
And so Rufus had spent his time with Matthew Turner discussing Jacob Harker, the previous estate manager. Rufus had decided that the man had in all likelihood been involved with the other traitors to the Crown, unfortunately still in so many of the homes of the English aristocracy. Rufus had already sent word to his cousin Zachary in London, giving a detailed description of the man. Helped by the fact, he hoped, that Harker apparently had a distinctive mole on the left side of his neck.
There was nothing else Rufus could do about that while he remained in Northamptonshire, and so he had turned his attention to asking Turner for the names of all the people residing in and around Banbury, on the excuse that he wished to become acquainted with all his tenants. To Rufus’s frustration, during none of their conversations did Turner make mention of a young lady named Anna.
And then the young parson had called to see Rufus early yesterday evening, and introduced himself as Mark Bishop. Mark was the son of Andrew Bishop, the previous parson of the parish, and Rufus had learned through conversation with the younger man that he resided at the parsonage with his unmarried sister, Anna. A fact Matthew Turner, not being a churchgoer, had not seen fit to mention!
Rufus’s first instinct had been to return immediately to the parsonage with Bishop and see the man’s sister for himself. His second, more cautious response, had been to wonder whether it was possible that his Anna and the daughter and sister of two parsons could really be one and the same person. Rufus had questioned himself as to whether the spinster relation of two parsons would have behaved as she had in the woods that day.
But here Anna Juliet truly was, working in the parsonage garden, her blue gown slightly soiled from her endeavours, her hair softly ruffled by the lightly blowing breeze.
She looked utterly beautiful to him.
Utterly desirable.
Nor, he was pleased to have learned in the past few minutes, did her sharpness of tongue seem to have lessened in the least since learning his identity as the Duke of Northamptonshire.
“I did not wish to become a duke, Anna,” he repeated ruefully. “I liked my life exactly as it was, free of the responsibility of others, of all restraint. Until five weeks ago I could go where I wanted, be who I wanted, with whom I wanted.”
“And can you no longer do those things?”
He sighed. “Now I have numerous estates needing my attention, servants and tenants I am responsible for, along with all the other expectations of bearing the family title.”
Anna had never thought of a duke as being someone who had restraints placed upon him.
Restraints that seemed so strangely similar to her own, when all her close family relations were connected to the church.
All her life she had been Anna Bishop, the respectable daughter and then sister of a parson, her actions and words always guarded so that she did not bring embarrassment or shame upon her father or her brother.
But inside, shamefully, Anna had always longed for the sort of excitement she had known in this man’s arms three days ago.
“What are your own hopes and dreams, Anna?”
She looked at Rufus guardedly as he seemed to see, to recognise, her secret, wistful longings.
Her chin rose. “I have been the daughter of a parson all my life, sir, and now I am the sister of a parson, and since my mother died eight years ago, and I lost my father two years ago, I have been helpmate to my brother. I do not have any hopes, dreams or ambitions beyond that.”
Rufus did not believe her. He had seen the wistfulness of her expression just minutes ago; her cheeks flushed, the softness of her softly parted lips, as if she yearned for something just beyond her sight. Just beyond her reach.
“What if you should marry?” he probed softly.
She gave a humourless smile. “It is unlikely that I shall ever do so.”
Rufus’s relief at the realisation there was no particular young man in her life at present was instantly followed by surprise at why it should matter to him one way or the other.
His curiosity won out. “Why not?”
She shrugged slender shoulders. “I know all of the gentlemen in the area, and have no wish to marry any of them. Nor will I ever leave Banbury.”
This time Rufus had no doubts as to the longing, the ache, he could hear in Anna’s voice. “What if a gentleman were to take you away from here?”
She gave him a brief startled glance, whatever she saw in his face causing her to look quickly away again. “I told you,” her jaw was tight, “I am helpmate to my brother.”
“And what if your brother should marry and have children of his own?”
Anna gave a rueful smile, having no doubts that her brother would marry as he had recently taken quite an interest in Mary Turner, the pretty young daughter of the new estate manager at Banbury Hall. That Mark also hoped to entice Matthew Turner into his fold was no doubt an added incentive to that attraction. “Then no doubts I shall happily become the devoted sister-in-law to his wife and spinster aunt to his children.”
“And with each month and year that passes will you also become increasingly bitter as your own life passes you by?”
“How dare you?” Anna demanded indignantly, even as she knew this man, this duke, spoke the truth.
That he somehow knew her.
Rufus Drake knew of the yearnings she had in her heart; for excitement, freedom, to travel and to see the world outside Banbury. Of how she longed to be wholly loved and cherished by the man she would wholly love and cherish in return.
Yearnings that she would never voice, never acknowledge, but would keep hidden inside her like a bitter, festering wound.
“I dare, Anna, because I see that same restless spirit in you that I know is inside me.” He reached out to take a firm grasp of her chin as he tilted her face up towards his, so that Anna had no choice but to gaze up at him. “Admit it, Anna, you wanted me that day in the woods,” he encouraged gruffly. “You wanted me to kiss you, to make love to you.”
“No!” She gave a desperate shake of her head in denial of his words. Sweet, truthful, sinful words that caused her heart to clench painfully in her chest.
“You want me to kiss you now...”
“No!” She gave another frantic shake of her head.
“Yes, Anna.” Rufus raised her hand to stroke his lips across her knuckles, instantly aware of that same smell of mint he had tasted when he kissed her in the woods. “I love the way you smell,” he groaned as he rubbed her hand against his cheek.
A cheek that was hot with embarrassment.
Or desire?
“It is only mint from my herb garden,” she excused as she snatched her hand away from his and put it behind her back. “You must not do that. Anyone could walk by.”
“We have introduced ourselves now, you could invite me into the parsonage,” he suggested huskily.
“No, I— Our housekeeper will very soon be back from shopping in the village.”
“And is that your only reason for refusing me?”
“You must go! I cannot— We cannot!”
Rufus looked down at her as he heard the distress in her voice, and noted the look of panic in her expressive eyes as she looked up at him pleadingly. He gave a sigh before stepping back. “I am not going anywhere, Anna. And we will meet again.” It was a promise rather than a threat.
Anna’s emotions were in complete turmoil as she watched Rufus cross the garden to jump lithely back over the wall. He collected and put on his hat, nodding to her briefly before going on his way.
As if nothing had happened.
As if seeing her again had not shaken up his whole world in the same way that her own world had just been shaken on its foundations by seeing him again.
Chapter Five
Two more days passed before Anna saw Rufus again, and at a time and place she was completely unprepared for.
Hurrying out of the rain, on her way into the church to arrange the flowers for tomorrow’s Sunday services, she instead came to an abrupt halt as she saw a solitary man standing a short distance away in the churchyard.
Rufus.
He stood at the Drake crypt, head bent, seemingly unaware of the light rain falling and dampening his hat and clothes.
He looked so alone.
Which was a strange thought to have about a duke. A very wealthy and much-sought-after duke, as village gossip indicated that every well-connected family in the area had sent him invitations to dinner parties and hastily arranged balls.
Invitations Anna knew he had so far neither accepted nor refused.
She fought a battle within herself for several minutes as she continued to watch Rufus, part of her wanting to continue on into the church and begin her flower arranging and forget that she had ever seen him, the other part of her drawn to somehow try to alleviate some of his loneliness.
The softness of her heart meant the latter easily won out.
Leaving her flowers in the vestibule, Anna came back out of the church to walk down the pathway towards where Rufus stood.
Rufus knew almost instantly that he was no longer alone, sensing—no, feeling—Anna’s presence behind him, at the same time as he smelled the faint hint of mint he now associated only with her.
He turned slowly to look at her from beneath the brim of his hat. “You should not be out here in the rain.” The shawl she had draped about her shoulders was already showing damp, as was her pale green gown.
“Neither should you,” she countered gently. “Were you very close?” She looked up at the crypt where the names of Rufus’s uncle and two cousins had been added these past three years.
“Not close enough.” He gave a sad shake of his head as he too glanced up at his ornate family crypt. “I suppose we all think there’s plenty of time, that next week, or next month, or next year, we will make an effort to spend time with family, with those we love. And then fate decides otherwise.” He turned to look at her, “No, I was not close to my uncle and cousins, Anna. But I now wish that I had been.”
“You have other family?”
“Oh yes,” he smiled. “I have an interfering mother, and a maternal cousin who can be just as interfering.”
“They both love you, else they would not take the time to bother.”
Rufus looked at her incredulously for several moments and then he gave a rueful smile. “You are very wise for one so young.”
She shrugged. “I am a parson’s daughter.”
She was the strangest parson’s daughter Rufus had ever met. The only parson’s daughter he had ever met.
Anna was only in her very early twenties, and yet there was such wisdom in her eyes, so much understanding for what he had been trying to convey with words that, to him, seemed too trite, too dismissive.
He did deeply regret that he had been too busy with his own life to allow him to be close to his uncle and cousins, because now it was too late.
Was all of life like that? he wondered.
Was life, time, so fragile that it had to be grasped with both hands?
Was that how Anna had felt when they’d spoken two days ago? As if time, life, was passing her by? That it would continue to pass her by?
Was that how he now felt, standing in this churchyard, gazing up at his family crypt, where so many of his ancestors lay, including his own father? Did he feel that if he did not seize life, seize the things he really wanted, that he would lose them forever?
Rufus had become very introspective over the past couple of days as his thoughts dwelled on just that problem. Knowing that he hungered for something.
Or perhaps someone?
“I—” He stopped as the heavens suddenly seemed to open up above them, a deluge of rain falling down on them both. “Let’s get you into the church out of the rain.” He took a light hold of her arm as they hurried down the pathway.
Even with her shawl pulled up over her hair Anna was soaked through by the time the two of them reached the church vestibule.
“Do you love the rain as much as I?” She laughed with happiness as she removed her shawl before looking up at Rufus. He removed his hat, sweeping the dampness of his dark hair back from his brow. “I always feel that it cleanses everything and makes it brand new.” She continued to smile as she looked out of the arched entryway at the falling rain.
“Would it cleanse me, do you think, if I were to stand out in it?” Rufus mused unsmilingly.
She turned to look at him quizzically. “You already look very clean to me.”
He smiled ruefully. “I am talking of my past, Anna. Do you think the rain would cleanse me of that?”
Anna’s breath caught in her throat at the intensity of his gaze. “A person’s past,” she spoke carefully, “is exactly that, surely?”
“Is it?” He grimaced. “And what if that past has been less than reputable?”
“But honourable? Always honourable?”
His mouth twisted into a grimace of a smile. “Oh yes, always honourable.”
“Then it must be accepted as the past.” She shrugged. “For the past cannot be changed, we can only hope for the future.”
Rufus felt something shift deep inside him, as if a key had just been turned to open a part of him that had been locked away.
“Anna,” he murmured gruffly as he moved to take her in his arms. “Beautiful, wise Anna.” He rested his cheek against the silkiness of her hair.
Anna had no idea what was happening. Did not fully understand what Rufus was saying. But she did understand that he was in need of warmth and understanding, possibly because of that visit to his family crypt, that she had not been mistaken in how alone he had seemed.
Her arms moved about his tapered waist as she rested her head against his chest, and she became instantly aware of the rapid beat of his heart.
They stood like that for some minutes. Long, delicious minutes, when Anna simply enjoyed holding and being held. A time out of time.
A time that surely could not last.
“Would you be ready to do the church flowers now, Miss Anna?”
Anna pulled sharply out of Rufus’s arms, her face blazing with colour as she turned to look at Mrs Faulkner, the baker’s wife. She had arrived to help arrange the flowers. As she did every Saturday...
Something Anna had completely forgotten in Rufus’s company.
“His Grace was sheltering from the rain, and I was keeping him company,” Anna announced brightly as the elderly lady looked at the duke suspiciously. Unlike some in the village, Mrs Faulkner was not a gossip, thankfully.
Anna quickly made the introductions before announcing that it really was time for the two of them to go into the church and see to the flowers.
Rufus eyed her with amusement as he took his leave. “A pleasure to have met you, Mrs Faulkner. We will meet again soon, I hope, Anna,” he added huskily.
Anna was too embarrassed to reciprocate, too mortified at being caught in the duke’s arms by Mrs Faulkner, to even be able to look at Rufus again before he turned and left them.
* * *
“Did you arrange this deliberately?”
Rufus looked at Anna as she sat to the left of him at the mahogany table in the smaller dining-room at Banbury Hall, her head bent as she looked down at the folded hands on her knees, the softness of her voice sounding hurt rather than imbued with her usual fire.
No doubt that was because of the presence of Rufus’s butler who, having served their meal, now stood in attendance near the door.
Rufus motioned for Watkins to leave them, waiting until the other man had closed the door behind himself before answering her. “I am responsible for calling upon your brother after our meeting at the church this morning, and also for issuing the invitation for you and your brother to dine here with me this evening,” Rufus acknowledged. “But I certainly had nothing to do with your brother being called away to tend to one of his flock the moment our dessert had been served, leaving the two of us alone here together.”
Although Rufus accepted that he was guilty of persuading the young parson to allow his sister to stay and finish her meal, after which Rufus had promised he would see she arrived home safely.
Anna looked so beautiful this evening, her gown a pale lemon, with matching slippers on her feet, her hair shining like burnished gold in the last of the evening’s sun streaming through the dining-room windows, her eyes a deep and sparkling blue in her beautiful heart-shaped face.
“You are a duke, sir,” she answered him waspishly as she finally raised her head to look at him, “and no doubt capable of arranging anything you please.”
Ah yes, and there was that sharp little tongue that could amuse and arouse him in equal measure.
“Are you angry with me because of this morning?”
Anna eyed him impatiently, knowing it was not Rufus she was annoyed with, but herself. This morning she had allowed herself to forget who she was for a few pleasurable moments of being held in his arms. A pleasure she had paid for by suffering numerous questions from Mrs Faulkner as they’d arranged the flowers together, the elderly woman at last accepting that Anna had merely been comforting the duke, who had been overcome with emotion after visiting his family crypt.
“You did not have to come here this evening, Anna,” Rufus spoke quietly. “You could have used any number of excuses not to accompany your brother.”
Anna knew that.
But that part of her, which was wilful as well as impetuous, the part of her that so longed for adventure and excitement, had refused to allow her to do so.
Because she had wanted to see Rufus again. To know if her legs would once again become weak just at the sight of him. If her body would become aroused just by being near him...
A single glance at Rufus in his evening clothes and Anna had known without a doubt that she did indeed feel all of those things towards Rufus.
Achingly.
Futilely.
She was a parson’s daughter, and Rufus Drake was a sophisticated London gentleman, not to mention a duke, and at least ten years older than she.
“Anna?” He frowned as he stood up to stand next to her chair, his eyes holding hers captive.
Her heart raced. “What are you doing?”
“I believe you are well aware of what I want, what I have wanted since the moment you arrived here this evening.” His eyes gleamed with desire. “What we both want.”
It was indeed a desire, a need, that Anna echoed. With all her heart.
She swallowed. “But we should not.”
“I must, Anna.”
He bent to swing her up into his arms and carried her over to a chaise in front of the window, laying her down upon it before joining her, the heat of his body pressed close against her own, a pleasure Anna had never thought to know with him again.
“You have no idea how much I have longed, hungered, to hold you in my arms, to be with you like this again, Anna,” he murmured throatily as his head lowered and his lips captured hers.
If his hunger was even half as much as her own was for him to hold her, and make love to her, then Anna did know.
Chapter Six
It was as if the past six days had never been, as if they were simply continuing where they had left off that day by the pond, as Rufus’s hot, marauding tongue swept confidently between Anna’s parted lips, plundering, claiming, demanding that she respond in kind. A demand that Anna gave into willingly.
He gave a low groan of satisfaction as he felt the shy stroke of Anna’s tongue alongside his own, her hands moving up from his chest and over his shoulders before her fingers became entangled in the dark silky hair curling at his nape. He felt himself once again lost to satisfying his addiction to her unique taste.
He moaned as his lips moved to her cheek, the length of her throat, the creamy tops of her breasts. “I have hungered for this again since the day I met you, Anna. For the taste of you. For you,” he murmured urgently, knowing he spoke the truth, and that he had thought of little else, and no one else, since the two of them had first met six days ago.
“Rufus?”
“Yes, I am Rufus!” he urged fiercely. “Not Northamptonshire. Not a duke. With you I am only Rufus,” he insisted urgently.
She looked up at him searchingly. “What is it you want from me?” she finally murmured softly.
“Everything!” he assured her heatedly, his gaze feverish. “I’ve longed to be with you again, to touch you again,” he murmured achingly. “Will you allow me?” His hands were against the buttons at the back of her gown.
Anna swallowed before answering, knowing she should say no, that she would regret this madness tomorrow. That she would have time to regret it for the rest of her life.
But it was a regret she knew would be all the deeper if she now went against the dictates of her heart. She needed this memory with Rufus in order to make the rest of her life bearable without him.
“Yes,” she breathed shyly.
Rufus unfastened her gown before gently tugging down the loosened material to reveal her breasts covered only by the thinness of her chemise. “You are so beautiful, Anna,” he groaned as he revealed her rose-coloured nipples. “Do they ache, Anna?” He ran his fingertips across the tips. “Are they hot and aching for me to kiss them?” he encouraged raspily even as he lowered his head and took a rosy nipple into the heat of his mouth.
Anna was so awash with sensation, in the unmistakeable knowledge of Rufus’s passion, and the desire he voiced for her so fiercely, she was unable to do anything more than arch her back as she groaned her surrender and gave herself up completely to the pleasure of being in his arms.
“You are so lovely,” he murmured as the heat of his mouth moved to pay homage to her other breast. “So very lovely,” he groaned before suckling the roused nipple deep into his mouth, lathing with his tongue, biting gently with sharp and stimulating teeth.
Rufus had never felt so aroused as he did making love to Anna. So deeply inflamed that he wanted to give her pleasure, to pleasure her, until she belonged to him completely. Anna. His Anna, whether she knew it yet or not.
He was moved by her beauty, entertained by her feistiness, enthralled with her delicious body. Her breasts were perfect, the taste of her nipples as addictive as her mouth, the skin of her thighs so silky soft as he caressed their length beneath her gown, between her thighs so wet and inviting as he touched her through the slit in her drawers.
“Rufus?” she gasped as he eased a finger inside the moist heat of her.
“Let me, love,” he encouraged softly as he eased a second finger inside her, her inner muscles grasping his fingers, at the same time as he pressed his thumb rhythmically against her pulsing core.
Rufus suckled one of her nipples deeply into his mouth as he continued to stroke his fingers inside her, Anna arching against him as his thumb pressed harder against her.
His.
This woman was his.
“Rufus!” Anna cried out at the unimagined pleasure coursing wildly through every inch of her body, her hands clinging on to the muscled hardness of Rufus’s shoulders as she arched up into his invading fingers. She needed— Oh goodness, she needed—
“Let go for me, Anna!” Rufus encouraged gruffly.
“I do not know how!” She shook her head from side to side as the pleasure seemed almost too much to bear.
“Let go, love,” he groaned harshly. “Just let go!”
Anna gave another gasp as his words triggered something deep inside her and her pleasure washed over her in wave after wave of ecstasy such as Anna had never thought of or imagined in her wildest daydreams.
His, Rufus groaned in satisfaction, unrelenting as he rode Anna’s climax to the very end of her pleasure. Until she lay limp and gasping in his arms, her eyes fever bright as she looked up at him in wonder.
“Tell me you want me too, Anna,” Rufus urged hotly; his arousal a painful ache between his thighs. “Tell me I can have all of you.”
“Rufus?” She looked up at him dazedly, uncomprehending.
“There is no one here to stop us,” he explained heatedly. “Watkins will not return until he is called for, and your brother is occupied in the village.”
Anna was breathing hard as she slowly came back to her senses and realised the intimacies she had allowed to happen. Exactly what her wanton hungers, her desire for excitement and adventure, had led her into doing.
And how much Rufus would despise her once he also came back to his senses.
Her face paled even as she pulled herself out of his arms before moving quickly down to the bottom of the chaise and getting back onto her feet, her legs trembling as she turned away from him to pull her chemise and gown up over her swollen breasts.
What had she done? How could she have allowed this to happen?
To have allowed Rufus to touch her so intimately, and the building of that unbearable pleasure, so quickly followed by the release she could still feel between her thighs.
She had not realised when she gave herself up to his desire for her. Had not known where, or how far, her own passions would take her.
It was too much.
Rufus was too much.
He was also, no matter how much he might try to dismiss it, the Duke of Northamptonshire. And Anna would never be any more to him than another conquest. A woman to amuse him while he was in Banbury, so far away from the sophisticated amusements and equally sophisticated women he usually enjoyed in London.
She was merely an amusement to him.
A diversion, nothing more.
Anna had never met a man like Rufus before. A man so handsome. So self-assured. So intelligent. So wickedly amusing. So achingly, sinfully attractive.
She had realised the moment she’d seen him again that night, and the idea had grown as the two of them talked, as he made such delicious love to her just now, that somehow over the past six days her fascination with him had turned to budding love. A love that had burst into full bloom tonight. She was in love with Rufus Drake, the wickedly handsome Duke of Northamptonshire.
The fact that her heart was now breaking at that knowledge, as she now felt broken, would be of no interest to him. As she would be of no interest to him once he was back amongst his sophisticated London friends.
And she would not, could not, allow him to see, or even guess, her feelings for him, and the heartbreak of loving him. That would be the ultimate humiliation.
She raised her chin determinedly. “I had thought the droit du seigneur to have been abandoned several centuries ago?”
Rufus was taken aback. “You misunderstand my intentions totally.”
“I do not think so,” Anna murmured dismissively. “You invited my brother and me to dine here with you this evening, and then immediately proceeded to kiss me, to make love to me, the moment he was out of the room. You then pointed out that there is no one here to stop your attentions. And you— I— I am so ashamed!” She buried her face in her hands.
Rufus had done all of those things, but only because he had been so happy to be alone with Anna again. To be able to hold her. To make love to her.
He had obviously frightened her with the intensity of that lovemaking.
These possessive feelings were utterly new to him. Unprecedented. But that did not mean Rufus was not completely aware of what they were. What they meant to him. What Anna meant to him.
He had awoken every day these past six days full of anticipation, buoyant in the knowledge that he might see her again. Not only had he never before met a woman he desired as much as he did her, but he admired her intelligence, her sense of adventure, that wild imagination that had come up with the story of the kitten up in the tree. Anna made him laugh, at himself as much as anything else, and not in the bored or jaded way of his London friends.
She was also wise beyond her years in the way in which she had understood and soothed his feelings at the churchyard this morning. She’d helped him to see that life must be grasped, seized, before it was too late.
“Contrary to what you may think of me, Your Grace, I am not one of your London trollops!” Anna snapped as she turned her back on him, obviously waiting for him to refasten her gown.
Rufus frowned as he slowly refastened the tiny buttons. “I would never think that of you…”
“Nor,” she continued firmly as she stepped away from him, “am I a country bumpkin, who would feel so flattered and grateful for the attentions of a duke, that she would simply throw herself down and worship at your feet.”
This was why he wanted her, Rufus acknowledged ruefully. Because Anna, and damn it she would be his Anna, had shown him again this evening that she was not in the least in awe of him or his title. Instead she had treated him as if he were just the wicked gentleman she had met in the woods six days ago.
Rufus could not hold back a smile. “I believe I had in mind another part of my anatomy entirely which you might go down upon your knees and worship.”
She drew in an indignant breath, even as her gaze moved to the front of his black pantaloons, where the evidence of his arousal was unmistakeable.
Her mouth firmed as she glared at him. “You, sir, are a cad. A lecher. A despoiler of innocents— I fail to see what is so amusing!” she snapped as he began to laugh.
“Ye gods, Anna,” Rufus continued to chuckle. “I cannot wait to take you to London and introduce you to my friends, and most especially to my cousin Zachary!” He had no doubts that his cousin, of all the Dangerous Dukes, would understand exactly why and how this young woman had burrowed so deeply beneath Rufus’s skin in so short a time.
Anna was a prize beyond any jewels, or any amount of money, was beyond freedom, beyond anything that Rufus had previously so highly valued in his life.
“What are you suggesting?” Anna looked at him in alarm. “That you would like to take me to London with you when you leave so that the two of you might share me in your bed?”
“Absolutely not,” Rufus’s humour faded as quickly as it had arisen, his expression grim as he stepped forward determinedly before once again placing his fingers beneath her chin and tilting her face up towards his, his lids narrowed in warning. “You will never be with any other man, Anna. No other man will ever be allowed to see your nakedness but me. Do you understand me?”
No, Anna did not understand him at all. She knew she had been playing with fire when she had thought him merely a gentleman passing through the area the day they met in the woods. She had behaved even more recklessly this evening, when her longings had allowed him to make love to her so pleasurably.
But this man, the arrogant words of this duke, were surely beyond her comprehension.
Except he seemed to be suggesting he would happily take her back to London with him when he went. As his mistress?
And perhaps she deserved such disrespect from him. Perhaps her shameful actions this evening had led him to assume, to believe, that she would accept such a role in his life.
“I understand you perfectly,” she nodded abruptly.
Rufus looked down at her searchingly. “Do you?”
“Oh yes,” Anna acknowledged dully. “I do not believe I will wait for your carriage to take me home. It is a warm and sunny evening, and I would prefer to walk.”
“Anna—”
“Please do not say anything more to me this evening, Rufus.”
Tears stung her eyes as she looked at him pleadingly. “I could not bear it.”
Rufus frowned as he saw how deeply upset Anna was. No doubt because of their lovemaking earlier; he should not have allowed things to go as far as they had. Except he could not regret having touched and caressed her, having made love to her. Or deny the need he felt to caress and make love to her again as soon as was possible.
But not like this. Not with these misunderstandings standing between them.
He nodded abrupt acceptance of her decision to leave. “You will return to the parsonage in my carriage, as I assured your brother that you would.” He rang for Watkins. “I will only agree not to accompany you,” he continued as she seemed about to protest yet again, “on the condition you agree to meet me at two of the clock tomorrow afternoon at our pond—”
“No.”
“Yes, Anna.” Rufus knew that his own eyes must be as fiercely determined as her own.
He may not have wanted to become a duke, but there was no denying he was one, and in this particular instance, he intended to behave like one.
“Be there at two of the clock, Anna, unless you wish for your brother to know the extent of our friendship,” Rufus’s tone was soft, but nevertheless brooked no further argument.
Watkins knocked quietly on the door before entering the room. Rufus issued his instructions for the carriage, and waited for the other man to leave before turning back to Anna.
She frowned. “You would not really do that?”
No, of course Rufus would not do that, but he was determined that Anna would meet with him tomorrow. “Do not press me, Anna,” he advised gently.
She looked at him searchingly for several long seconds before her lashes lowered and she gave a slight nod of acceptance. “Very well. I will meet you at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
“At our pond,” he pressed.
“At the pond,” she corrected purposefully.
Rufus stood at the window and watched a few minutes later as Anna hurried down the front steps of the house before stepping quickly up into his carriage.
As if the Hounds of Hell were at her heels.
Or the man who was determined to have her for his own.
Ücretsiz ön izlemeyi tamamladınız.
