Rebellious Rakes: Rake Most Likely to Rebel. Bronwyn Scott
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again. Long after Haviland had rolled to one side and taken her against him, his arm slung comfortably across her hips, she’d simply felt. She’d felt the rhythm of their breathing start to slow, their bodies start to cool, a hundred other sensations, not the least being the irony of feeling such completion while feeling as if her body had shattered into a thousand crystal shards, each a shining point of light.
Her body had awakened and it was greedy. Having discovered this place where nothing mattered, nothing existed but pleasure, her body wanted to stay. But to stay, it would have to happen again. Could it? Clearly it didn’t always happen. It had never happened...before. She gave a little moan and pushed the thought away. There was not room in this bed for memories or for comparison. Or for hopes. Tonight existed in a vacuum, one time only.
‘How are you?’ Haviland’s voice was at her ear, warm and comfortable as if they were more than acquaintances who’d found temporary pleasure together.
‘Fine. I was just thinking,’ Alyssandra murmured, turning over to face him.
‘Don’t do it. Thinking is dangerous.’ He smiled at her, the sight of it warming her. Probably because he did it so seldom, not a genuine smile, anyway.
‘You’re very handsome like this.’ Alyssandra pushed a strand of dark hair back from his face.
‘Like this? Do you mean naked?’ Haviland chuckled.
She shook her head and smiled. ‘No, just being, I don’t know, relaxed, as if the mask you show the world is off and you’re very simply yourself.’
His eyes drifted away from her, and she felt a moment’s anxiety over having gone too far, which seemed absurd in the extreme considering what they’d already done tonight. A simple observation shouldn’t tip the balance. Yet when his eyes strayed back to hers, she knew it had.
‘Do you know me so well after an afternoon and an evening spent together?’ His tone carried a hint of sharpness beneath the quietness.
She met the challenge and placed a hand against his chest. ‘I know how you look when you kiss me and there has been plenty of that.’
‘How is that?’ The fire was starting to stir in his eyes again. He was going to forgive her intrusion into his privacy.
‘Like a man who could be happy,’ Alyssandra whispered and decided to push her advantage. She pressed against him and kissed him, effectively distracting them both from any chance of dangerous thinking. She didn’t want to contemplate what lay beyond this night, nor did she want to contemplate why Haviland was so very private. ‘Private’ was often a polite euphemism for secrets. People who were private had something to hide. People like the Leodegrances.
This was going to be complicated. It was the one thought Haviland’s mind kept returning to as the sky began to lighten outside the carriage windows. Alyssandra drowsed against his shoulder even though the drive to the Leodegrance hôtel would be a short one. Neither of them had been overeager to leave his warm bed and they had in fact already lingered longer in that haven than was prudent.
Paris had been waking up around them, or going to bed, depending on one’s perspective, when they’d finally dressed and slipped out the gate at the back of the garden. He didn’t think Archer and Nolan had come home yet, but he hadn’t wanted to risk going through the common room. If the milkmaids and early vendors were out, his friends wouldn’t be far behind. There were a few carriages like his out, too, taking the wealthy home from a night of revels. It was not at all odd to be out this time of day—and night—but there’d been no question of waiting any longer to see her home. They’d escaped her brother’s detection over the kiss in the park, but that would look like a minor infraction if he caught them after tonight. Nor had Haviland wanted to encounter his friends. Nolan would most likely still be drunk and Archer would ask too many questions.
It wasn’t that he was afraid of them or of Antoine Leodegrance. He simply didn’t want to share. He wanted to keep Alyssandra to himself. She shifted in her sleep and murmured something softly incoherent. He looked down where her head rested against his shoulder. She was beautiful even in her sleep, with all that hair falling over her shoulder in a silky curtain of caramel, the sweep of dark lashes against her cheek.
He was already planning when he could see her again and how. After tonight, he knew that once would not be enough. That was the complicated part. There were the logistics, but there were also the ethics. How long could he go on seeing Leodegrance’s sister without telling him? She was of an age to make her own decisions, but Haviland felt something of the cuckolder to face Leodegrance across the fencing piste while pursuing the man’s sister behind his back, regardless of her age. Although it might be best if Leodegrance remained oblivious. The man would want to know his intentions and those were hardly classified as honourable.
Despite the concerns, Haviland knew it wouldn’t stop him. Tonight had been heady stuff indeed. It had been hard to tell who was seducing whom. They’d been partners in pleasure. The result had been explosive and satisfying. The result had also been dangerous—it had created an intimacy, that if pursued, would eventually make demands of its own. There were already signs of it. When I kiss you, you look like a man who could be happy.
She saw too much and he could not give her that part of himself. She wanted to know him, but therein lay the rub. If she knew him, she wouldn’t want him. How could he tell her he was expected to return home and marry Lady Christina Everly? Not only was he expected to marry, but it was a match he’d known about since he was eight years old. He could not plead ignorance.
But neither could Alyssandra, on different grounds. She was no blushing English virgin expecting marriage. She’d come to him for pleasure, not a proposal. She’d come to him tonight knowing full well what could happen and she’d certainly initiated a fair share of it. One night did not qualify as an affaire. However, the longer this went on, expectations would form, a consequence of intimacy that went beyond physical pleasure. It occurred to him that just as he’d never indulged in a purely self-motivated pursuit of a woman, neither had he indulged in a free-standing affaire. It was different than dealing with mistresses where the terms and expectations were less emotional and far more defined. The carriage pulled to a halt and Haviland gave Alyssandra a gentle shake. ‘We’re here.’
She lifted her head and gave him a drowsy smile that had him wishing the driver could take another turn around the city, but the sky was already considerably brighter than when they’d left his rooms. He jumped down and helped her out, insisting on watching her all the way to the door when she refused to let him walk her any farther. He doubted Antoine Leodegrance was awake this time of day, but the servants would be up and servants would talk.
‘Goodnight, or should I say good morning?’ She gave him one last smile and turned to go before it became too difficult. He wanted nothing more than to haul her back to his rooms and lock the day out. Haviland caught her arm before she could slip away. There was at least one detail they could settle that would make the rest of the day tolerable. ‘I have to be at the salle this afternoon, but this evening, where can I find you?’
She gave him a coy smile. ‘I’ll send you a note.’
Haviland arched a brow. ‘It’s to be a puzzle, then?’
Alyssandra stepped away, dancing backwards with a little trill of laughter. ‘I have it on good authority you like a woman of mystery. À ce soir, Haviland.’
Haviland folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the carriage, watching her until she disappeared. Even the Leodegrance home was private in the extreme. A high stone wall set it apart from the street, making the house accessible only through the arch that led into the inner courtyard. Certain she was safely inside, Haviland climbed back into the carriage for the lonely drive home.
Only he wasn’t alone. She had not left him entirely. The carriage smelled faintly of her soap—lavender and lemongrass—as