Date with a Regency Rake. Marguerite Kaye
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at her, scrutinising her closely. There was confusion and fear lurking in her wide-open green eyes. He knew perfectly well what she was thinking, for he had fully intended to frighten her just a little, to let her know that whatever her game was, she wasn’t going to have it all her own way. But he had been unprepared for this feeling of pity, tenderness even, that her fear invoked. With difficulty, Kit resisted the sudden urge to reassure her, to soothe her anxiety. He reminded himself that she was an excellent actress. All the talk of Mama, the show of bravado, even the slight tremble of that full, sensuous bottom lip. Really, Mrs Siddons could not have acted better than this wench. She had no need of tenderness.
Grasping her small determined chin, he moved closer, feeling her light breath on his hand, inhaling that alluring combination of roses and vanilla. His thumb stroked the corner of her mouth, and ran over her full bottom lip. She was staring up at him, those huge green eyes pleading, the lashes so dark and long that she must employ some artifice, no matter how natural they looked. He could drown in those eyes. For a timeless moment they stood thus, Clarissa silently pleading, Kit coolly assessing, implacable.
‘Kit, please take me home.’ Her words were spoken softly, a gentle request, for somehow she was no longer frightened.
‘I’m not planning to abduct you Clarissa, although I know you fear that is my intention. I have no need to take you by force. Anything we do together, you’ll do willingly or not at all. I would not have it any other way, and you know it.’ As he spoke, Kit pulled Clarissa to him, holding her with one hand lightly by the waist. ‘You can leave directly, only say the word. Ask me again, I’ll take you home and we can forget everything. Our adventure. Our kisses. The union of our bodies will be consigned for ever to our imaginations. It will be as if we had never met. We can forgo it all, Clarissa, if you tell me that is what you truly desire.’
The closeness of their bodies invoked memories of last night. His words were a whisper on her face. His mouth, his tempting, cool, hot mouth, was inches away. His thumb continued its slow, languorous caress as he spoke, the line of her jaw, back to her mouth, over the planes of her cheek. Brushing gently. Soothing her. Distracting her. Hypnotising her. But the clasp on her waist remained light. She could leave now, she believed him. Instead of turning away, Clarrie moved forwards, drawn closer as if mesmerised, casting aside all doubts and reservations, any sense of the danger of her situation, in the need to taste him once more.
Her tongue flicked over the tip of Kit’s thumb. And flicked over it again, her teeth just grazing the skin, before she closed her lips around it and sucked with a slow, sensuous and purely instinctive movement. She sucked harder, drawing the length of his finger into her mouth, closing her eyes to delight all the more in the sensations it was arousing all over her body. She moaned slightly as his finger was withdrawn, only to purr with satisfaction when it was replaced by the lips she craved.
Opening her mouth to receive his kiss, Clarrie gave a mewl of frustration as Kit’s lips moved slowly, deliberately, delicately, when she wanted hard, hot, fast. Reaching up to pull his head down more firmly, relishing the rough graze of his chin on her tender skin, Clarrie drew tight against his hard, aroused body, and stopped thinking. Their kiss deepened, rocketing her body temperature, causing the flames that had flickered somewhere in her belly to strengthen and focus lower down. She could feel the male hardness of him between her thighs through the delicate wool of her walking dress, and tilted slightly to press herself against him.
The action was too much for Kit’s self-control. Suddenly she was free, a cold distance between them, the room silent save for their ragged breathing. The flame of passion was replaced by a deep blush of shame.
Clarrie looked up to find Kit’s eyes on her, that sardonic, devilish look of his accentuated by his slightly raised brow, the half-smile on his mouth. ‘Well? Are you going to persist in your demands to be taken back to your mama? Have you decided, after all, that to deal with so notorious a rake as me is just a mite too dangerous? Speak now, Clarissa, or for ever hold your peace. Is it to be safe home? Or is it to be onwards into the unknown with me? Think carefully, for if you choose onwards, my bold Clarissa, your adventure begins this very day.’
Chapter Five
What on earth had she done? Clarrie wondered. Broken all her resolutions, and some she hadn’t even thought she’d need to make, for a start. Betrayed by her own body, tricked by her own desires, she had placed herself in a position of real peril. She had thrown herself—quite literally—at this man, when only moments before she had been terrified of abduction, and protesting her innocence. Clarissa turned to look bleakly out of the window. How stupid her plans had been. How poorly she understood her own true nature. A few hours in his company, and here she was launching herself at Kit like one possessed. If she persisted in such brazen behaviour, he would tire of her far too quickly and return to his pursuit of Amelia, and then she’d have sacrificed herself for nothing.
Leaning her hot cheeks against the cool of the glass, Clarissa realised that her scathing denunciations of romantic heroines had been naïve in the extreme. Here she was with a notorious rake, and succumbing to his charms—nay, hurling herself wholeheartedly at them— with nary a thought for the consequences. Stupid, stupid Clarissa!
As if that wasn’t enough, she had walked with eyes wide open into this impossible situation. A situation, she was forced to acknowledge, of her own making. She had asked for an adventure. It was natural to assume that adventures involved surprise, and foolish of her to suppose that one so impetuous as Kit would do anything other than rise immediately to her challenge.
What on earth was she going to do? Return home and forget her plan? Clarissa had no doubt that Kit would take her back if she wished. He might be a rake, but he was an honest one, she was sure of it. He said he would not abduct her against her will and she believed him. But to return home was to put an end to everything. She would have failed in her attempts to save Amelia. And she would never see Kit again. Never. At the thought, a huge chasm seemed to open at her feet. Never share a joke with him. Never test her wit against his. Never see that smile, so rarely given, of genuine amusement, which lit up his face, changing him from devilish to absurdly, overwhelmingly handsome. Never taste his lips on hers. Never feel his hard body pressed against hers.
Reminding herself that she had no intention of succumbing to more intimate advances did not prevent Clarrie from craving more of the forbidden fruit she had already tasted. Surely a few more kisses would be no compromise? Surely a few more hours, a few more days in his company, would satisfy her, and suffice to save her sister? Suffice to subdue this fire. Surely a better acquaintance with Kit would cure her of this irrational infatuation? A surfeit of his presence would ensure she saw him in a more rational light, and would have the happy consequence of doing Amelia good too.
Lost in her thoughts, Clarissa stared unseeingly out of the window. Kit watched, judging it best to give her this time to adjust her thinking, refusing to attempt further persuasion. She would come, of that he was certain. She would accede to his terms. He had neither the desire nor the need for an abduction. She would come. He was sure of it.
Checking his watch, he tugged the bell by the fireplace, summoning the landlady. ‘We will dine in twenty minutes. You’ll oblige me by bringing some writing materials immediately, and some brandy too.’ The woman curtsied and left.
‘Dine?’ The words startled Clarissa from her musings.
‘Yes. I know it’s early, but we have a long journey ahead of us. If you’re not hungry now, you should be. And I’m ravenous.’
‘But we can’t be much more than an hour from town. I’d rather wait if you don’t mind, Kit.’
‘We’re not going back to London. I had credited you with more wit than that, Clarissa. You demanded an adventure, but you also demanded secrecy you may recall. You may not be particularly well known in town, but I am. How can we conduct any sort of private liaison with the eyes of the world upon us?’
‘Yes, I suppose—that is, I had not thought …’
‘You had not thought? I find that difficult to believe. Well, you can think now. We are not going