Nicola Cornick Collection: The Last Rake In London / Notorious / Desired. Nicola Cornick
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the lake. They paused on the white ornamental bridge that crossed the water.
‘Such a beautiful night!’ Sally said. She glanced sideways at him. ‘With anyone else I would say that it is a night made for romance, but I remember you telling me yesterday that you do not believe in such fanciful stuff.’
‘I do not believe in love,’ Jack said. ‘It is a convenient fiction invented to dress up physical desire.’
Sally sighed, her gaze on the rippling water. ‘And yet you must have been in love once?’
‘It is true that I thought I loved Merle.’ Jack spoke harshly. Her words echoed too closely the painful memories he had been thinking of only moments before. ‘I did love her. It was the single most destructive experience of my life.’
Sally’s eyes were wide and dark on his face. ‘Why?’
‘Because I lost all control and all judgement.’ Jack shrugged. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ Suddenly he made a sharp gesture. ‘You thought you were in love with your husband when you married, didn’t you? And that could hardly be said to have turned out happily.’
Sally was silent for a moment. ‘I was young,’ she said. ‘I thought I was doing the right thing. I expect you did too when you eloped. Everyone makes mistakes.’
Jack laughed harshly. ‘Not everyone makes mistakes that were as unforgivable as mine.’
Even though he was turned away from her, he could feel Sally’s gaze on him. She put a gentle hand on his arm.
‘Do you ever talk about Merle?’
‘No.’
‘It was a long time ago. Do you still love her?’
Jack did not answer, did not know the answer. He had loved Merle passionately and then he had wanted to forget her equally as passionately, but had never been able to escape her memory and her legacy. He was haunted by his guilt over her death and his self-loathing at his own weakness. But he did not want to think about that now. He wanted to wipe out the memory in the passion of Sally’s embrace.
Sally shivered and drew her shawl more closely about her shoulders as though she could sense his disquiet. ‘Never mind the boat ride,’ she said. ‘Let’s go back,’ and although she did not utter a word of reproach, Jack knew that his abruptness had broken the spell between them.
He caught her wrist, pulling her into his arms. He kissed her hard, the thrust of his tongue invading her mouth mercilessly, feeling her yield. He felt angry, but was not sure why. All he knew was that he wanted to slake all that anger and pain in Sally’s warmth. His hands held her tightly against him, and he slid one of them from her waist to her breast, feeling the nipple harden against his palm. He eased the pressure of the kiss and heard her catch her breath.
‘We cannot do this here …’ Her whisper was shocked and with a rush of awareness Jack realised they were still standing on a bridge in the middle of the lagoon, illuminated on all sides by the brightly coloured lights of the cascade. Anyone could see them.
He took her hand and pulled her towards the archway that led out into Wood Lane. For the first time he was glad that they had driven there rather than taking the underground. At least the car would afford them some privacy, although it would probably feel like hours until they got back.
He held the car door for her, started the engine, then slid in beside her into the intimate darkness. He could hear her breathing and feel the powerful awareness that shimmered between them. The complicated anger was still in him, but overlaid with desire. He gripped the wheel of the Lanchester tightly, concentrating solely on getting back to the Strand. If he started to think about making love to Sally he would probably stop and do precisely that in the middle of a London street.
‘I don’t understand,’ Sally said. Her voice was soft. ‘I don’t understand how I can feel like this when I barely know you and I don’t understand the devils that drive you.’
Jack took one hand briefly from the wheel and covered her clasped ones. ‘Don’t think about it,’ he said. There was a rough undertone to his voice. He could sense her gaze on him in the darkness, but he did not dare look at her. If he did so, he would kiss her and then …
They said nothing more as the car drew up outside the Blue Parrot, but the silence between them was electric. The tension had spun tighter and tighter as the journey progressed and now that they had finally got to their destination the anticipation was almost choking him. This time Jack picked Sally up and carried her through the main doorway and up the stairs, under the astounded gaze of Alfred the doorman and various assorted and scandalised guests who were milling around in the entrance hall. Sally struggled, one of her pretty little sequin-encrusted evening slippers coming off and bouncing down the steps.
‘Put me down!’ she hissed. Her face was pink with indignation. ‘Everyone can see!’
Jack smiled down into her face. ‘So?’
‘You are doing this to the benefit of your own reputation and think nothing of mine,’ Sally said.
Jack put her on her feet gently on the soft carpet at the top of the stairs. ‘Too late, my sweet,’ he said. ‘Everyone already believes you to be a racy and outrageous nightclub owner—so why not live up to the role?’
He dropped a kiss on her parted lips, smiling again as he took in the startled, upturned faces of their audience down in the hall. Loosening his tie, he said, ‘Come along. I am taking you to bed.’
‘Jack!’ Sally blushed a vivid scarlet.
‘It’s no more than I have wanted to do all day,’ Jack said. He could barely wait to get her as far as the bedroom as it was. With one arm about her, he hustled her down the corridor, past the appalled, upright figure of Mrs Matson, thrust open the bedroom door and pulled her inside.
‘I can’t afford to lose another corset,’ Sally said.
Jack laughed. ‘You won’t even notice it’s gone,’ he promised, lowering his mouth to hers again. The shimmering, devastating pleasure took him again as soon as their lips touched and he allowed his mind to go dark until he was aware of nothing but their spiralling need and the urgent demand to claim her again as his and his only.
This time when Sally awoke it was still dark outside and there was only one candle burning low in the room. The building was quiet. Jack was lying beside her, one arm lying across her bare stomach in a casual gesture of possession. She moved slightly and his arms tightened about her, drawing her closer to him. He felt warm and a lock of his hair tickled her cheek.
Sally lay still for a moment. Her mind felt sleepy and heavy, but her body was starting to stir, aroused by the proximity of Jack’s nakedness. For a second the sensation troubled her. She had always thought that a woman’s physical needs were supposed to be less powerful than those of a man and yet she had matched Jack’s need for her every step of the way. And surely she should feel guilt over her behaviour. She had not known him long, did not know him well, but felt so powerful a desire for him that it was completely immodest.
Jack moved, murmuring in his sleep, and pressed his lips to the soft curve of her neck, and something shifted within her that felt unfamiliar and sweet and a lot like love was meant to be. For a moment Sally fought it, denied it, tried to tell herself that it was too soon to love him, impossible, pointless, hopeless and heartbreaking. But she could not resist the feelings that flooded her mind and her body.
With a sigh she turned over to face Jack. She did not want to be in love with him. She knew it was one of the most stupid things that she could do. He was a rake with a dark past and there could never be anything other than a casual affair for them. But it was too late. Against all sense and reason her feelings were engaged and she acknowledged that she felt such a deep and burgeoning love for him that it filled her with a helpless wash of emotion.
She needed to distract herself. Smiling a little, she ran her hands over Jack’s chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the smooth skin. He was warm and he smelled