The Passionate Love of a Rake Read Online Free PDF

set his mind on this now. He was not going to let her balk.
    “Then it is mine. We’ll take my carriage.” He refused to let her deny him.
    She shook her head. “I must tell Violet. She will wonder—”
    “Leave a message with a footman. He’ll pass it on.”
    He let go of her elbow and splayed his hand on the small of her back, applying an encouraging pressure to move her forward. She shifted and pulled away from his touch, walking a little ahead and separating them in the crowd.
    He assumed she did it to conceal their joint exit, which meant she was ashamed to be seen with him. The thought made him irritable again.
    Reaching the hall, he drew closer, his wicked and vengeful demons wanting to disconcert her – the part of him that was still hurt and angry at the way she had discarded him so easily years before. He settled his fingers on the curve of her waist in a possessive fashion. Her muscles jumped. Ignoring it, he walked on with his arm about her.
    They passed four women returning from the retiring room. She kept her gaze fixed towards the door.
    “The Dowager Duchess of Sutton’s cloak.” His voice echoed in the space about them. One footman disappeared. “And send for my carriage. Oh, and once we have left, please tell Lady Rimes the Duchess has gone.” Robert smiled, telling the man their reason for leaving.
    When the footman returned, he held up her cloak, but Robert claimed it and put it on for her, stealing the opportunity to brush the skin at her nape and across her neckline from the back of her gown over her shoulders.
    She shivered, and he saw her fingers tremble as she tied it.
    It was pleasing to know he could discompose her. In fact, the thought sent his blood thrumming in his veins and a weight into his groin.
    How would it feel if she shivered from his touch and his kiss when they lay naked?
    The muffled sound of his carriage drawing up outside penetrated the door and his thoughts. A footman opened it and stepped back. Robert splayed his hand across her back again and felt her muscles tighten further. Her head was high and her back straight, apparently ignoring the footman’s speculation.
    James, Robert’s groom, stood before them, holding the carriage door open. The step was already lowered.
    Robert nodded up at his driver, Parkin, before taking Jane’s hand and helping her ascend. Once she was inside, Robert turned and whispered instructions to James, then followed her in, climbing the step and ducking inside.
    He neither lit the internal lamp nor drew the blinds. Instead, he let the gas lamps in the street give them a little light, but there were not many, and the carriage was frequently thrown from light into shadow as it rolled forward.
    She’d taken a seat in the opposite corner, her back still stiff, her fingers clasped on her lap, and her eyes turning to the view from the far window.
    He did not break the silence, but leaned against the window beside him, propping his shoulder against the pane of glass, his elbow resting on the narrow sill and his chin on his fist. He lifted one foot to the seat on the far side, leaving his knee bent. But he did not look out the window; he looked at Jane.
    Lord, she was beautiful. At times, he’d thought her beauty embroidered from his patchy memories, as much of a fiction as her personality had been. Yet she was sitting before him now – it had never been a fabrication.
    He’d spent his entire life since Jane honouring the beauty of women, learning to appreciate their every form, and Jane was the pattern card he judged them all by. But when he’d appreciated a woman’s body and compared it to Jane’s, it
had
only ever been an imagined view. He’d never seen her naked, never touched her beyond a superficial fondle. She’d been innocent, so had he, and he’d treasured it then, and treasured her.
    Now, though? Now, they were experienced, mature players of the game. Now, he would know if she was all he’d dreamt.
    The thought was disarming.