Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake

  Callie shook her head. “I never wanted that wedding anyway. Mariana can have it for both of us.” Her hands slid up his arms toward his broad shoulders.

  “And that your mother will never forgive me for ruining her elder daughter.” His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer.

  “Oh, she shall forgive you. Marquesses rarely receive the full force of a mother’s wrath. And, have you forgotten, good sir, that I am already ruined?”

  A dark, wicked grin flashed. “An excellent point.”

  “There is a servants’ stairwell that leads straight to my room,” she whispered. “The hinges on the doors are beautifully quiet. I oiled them myself.”

  He chuckled. “’Twould be a pity to let such diligence go to waste. By all means, my lady, lead on.”

  They crept up the stairs—avoiding the third from the top—and into Callie’s bedchamber. The door closed behind them with a soft click, and the air thickened immediately. Callie was instantly nervous. The siren from earlier was gone, and she was consumed with awareness.

  Here she was, in the room where she’d slept for her entire life, with Ralston, who overpowered the space, his strength and maleness so incongruous within the dainty little room. She looked down at her hands, clasped tightly together, and wondered if she would ever be used to him so close in such an intimate place. Surely not.

  And then he was touching her—lifting her chin and taking her mouth and pulling her against him in the most complete of ways—and thought was lost.

  His hands made quick work of the long line of buttons on her gown. She felt the fabric loosen and the cool air brush against her flushed skin, and she knew that he was staying and that this night would be the most important of her life—the night she accepted Ralston’s suit, the night she professed her love, the first night of the rest of their life together. And she could not deny the remarkable rightness in his being there, his hands and mouth on her as he removed her dress to reveal—

  “Oh, my. Empress.”

  His words pulled her from her thoughts. His gaze was locked upon her, taking in the beautiful silk lingerie, the delicate fabric that clung to her curves, hinting temptingly at what it hid. He reminded her of a wolf—hungry and eager to snare its prey—and her breath caught as his eyes met hers, desire rife within them.

  She blushed. “Madame Hebert told me I needed them.”

  His eyes darkened to a rich, midnight blue. “Madame Hebert was right.” He toyed with a little satin ribbon at the edge of her chemise. “How do they make you feel?”

  Her eyes fluttered closed as a wave of embarrassment coursed through her. He turned her around, setting his hands to the laces of her stays, his words hot and soft against her ear. “How does it feel to be draped in warm silk?”

  She said the first thing that came to her mind. “I feel feminine.”

  His hands spread across her hips. “What else?”

  She was breathing more heavily than usual, anticipation making her voice breathy with excitement. “I feel…lovely.”

  He rewarded her words with a soft kiss on her neck. “Good. Because you are exquisite. And…?”

  The word hovered between them as her corset came undone, falling to the floor unheeded. Her eyes opened at the freedom and she noticed that he had turned her to face the mirror in the room. She was unable to stop herself from watching as his hands splayed across her torso and pulled her back against him firmly. They stole upward to cup her breasts, testing their weight, and she gasped, both at the heady combination of his warm skin branding her through the silk and his hands stark against the pale blue of her chemise. She was riveted by their reflection, feeling at once shy and sensual and wondering if she should turn away.

  And then she realized that he was watching her—reading the play of emotions across her face in the dim reflection. And his voice was dark and wicked at her ear. “Do they make you feel wanton?”

  “Yes,” she confessed. “They make me feel…” She paused, searching for the word. “They make me feel alive.”

  He made a small sound of approval deep in his throat. “They make me feel alive as well.” And then he was lifting her in his arms and carrying her to the bed and she was naked and the silk was forgotten, replaced by his wonderful heat and mouth and hands.

  He kissed across her collarbone and she smiled as he lingered over the faint scar on her arm, where his foil had cut her during their fencing lesson. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, lovely,” he whispered, worshipping the pink line with his lips and tongue.

  Her head rolled back and forth on the pillow as his hands stroked down her body, stealing her strength. She opened her eyes and let all her desire show. “Never apologize for that afternoon. I wouldn’t change a moment of it.” She took his face in her hand and pulled him up for a searing kiss.

  After several long minutes, he began to kiss down her body, and her hands fell to his shoulders to stay him. She whispered, “Wait.”

  His blue gaze captured hers, hot and arresting, and he placed a warm kiss on her soft, rounded belly. “What is it, lovely?”

  “I want to touch you this time.”

  His teeth flashed, white in the dim light. “If I remember correctly, you touched me last time, and I couldn’t bear it for long.”

  “I wonder if you’d be willing to try it again?”

  One dark eyebrow rose as he considered the question. There was a pause, before he grinned and stretched out next to her on his back, hands stacked under his head, naked and unabashed. “I’m yours for the taking, Empress.”

  I’m yours. The words echoed in her mind, sending a thrill though her. He was hers. This was the first in a long line of nights when she would be able to touch him, to feel his marvelous heat. He was hers. A smile played across her lips at the very thought.

  “You look like the cat that got the cream.”

  “I rather feel like the cat that got the cream,” she said, marveling at his body, the strength of his corded muscles, the dark, soft hair that dusted his chest, narrowing to a thin line that led to…oh, my. It was the first time she’d been able to see him in his entirety. He was long and hard and large enough that she marveled at the truth that they actually fit together.

  Sensing her thoughts, he said, “Touch me, darling.”

  She couldn’t refuse the dark, inviting words, and she set her hands to him, running them over his chest, and down to the part of him that made her so nervous. He flinched as she touched him softly, just lightly enough to drive him slightly mad. She pulled back immediately. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” he said, his voice shaking with tightly leashed passion. “Do it again.” She did, wrapping her fingers around the hard, silken length of him and caressing him with an innocence that threatened to slay him. With a groan, he placed his hand on hers, and his strong, skilled fingers guided hers, showing her just how to hold him, just where to stroke him, just how to please him.

  What she lacked in skill she more than made up for in eagerness, and Ralston soon found himself harder and heavier than he had ever been. Her warm hand moved more and more firmly as she gained confidence and he reveled in her touch until his breath was ragged and harsh and he realized that if her hot little fingers stayed upon him much longer, he would not be able to hold back.

  And then she spoke, and he thought he might lose his mind. “May I…kiss you?”

  He let out a harsh laugh and spoke through gritted teeth. “No.”

  “But you have…with me.”

  “Yes, Empress, and someday I will happily allow you to respond in kind. But tonight I cannot…for I already want you too much.”

  “Oh,” she said, “I understand.” Her eyes revealed that she wasn’t entirely certain she did.

  He lifted her hand from him and rolled to cover her with his body, settling between her silken thighs, the length of him pressing against the heart of her, where she was wet and willing and aching for him. “I want you too much to allow you such free rein. Your touch is already threa
tening my sanity.” His voice lowered as he began to rain kisses across her breasts, suckling first one hard, waiting nipple, then the other, wringing a soft cry from her. “I would much rather spend the rest of the evening inside you, until neither one of us can think.”

  He pressed against her again, rubbing against the hard, eager nub of her sex and sending a ripple of pleasure through her. “Don’t you agree?”

  “Oh, yes,” she sighed, as he repeated the motion.

  He nipped at her shoulder, his lips curving in a smile. “I thought you might.”

  With a single, delicious thrust, he was inside her, and she belatedly realized that there was no pain, no discomfort as there had been the first time, but only a rich, welcome fullness that made her feel utterly complete.

  He stopped, seated to the hilt. “Are you all right, lovely?”

  “Yes, I’m quite wonderful,” she said, her tone a mix of pleasure and awe. She shifted beneath him, and he groaned, moving against her several times before retreating until nothing but the very tip of him remained inside her, and she thought the loss of him might make her mad.

  “Gabriel,” she sighed. “Please.”

  He rewarded her, filling her again, pushing her further, higher, shifting and moving until the angle of his movements was perfect, and she cried out.

  He stopped, whispering in her ear teasingly, “Careful, Empress…you’ll get us caught.” Her eyes widened at his words, and he smiled. “It makes it even better, doesn’t it…the threat of discovery?”

  As if to test her willpower, his fingers stroked just above where they were joined, skillfully playing in the nest of curls, finding the tight bud of pleasure there and stroking it until she was biting her lower lip to keep silent. And then he was moving again, building the sweet friction between them, coaxing her into abandon while whispering heated reminders to stay quiet. She couldn’t stop herself, and he captured her mouth in a soul-stealing kiss to keep her from calling out as she shattered beneath him, pulsing around him, giving him a taste of heaven.

  And when she tore her lips from his to whisper “I love you,” over and over like a litany, he was lost, too, barely controlling his own cries of pleasure as he spilled inside of her.

  After several long moments, he lifted his weight from her, and she gave a little sigh of protest at the loss of him. He lay next to her, immediately pulling her into his arms. When Callie rested her cheek upon his chest, she whispered her love one more time, so softly that he barely heard the words.

  Gabriel lay there for a long time, watching her sleep, taking in her simple, powerful beauty and wondering at the intensity of the moment, of the evening. As he breathed her in, he was overcome with a ragged emotion—foreign and unsettling—and he wondered fleetingly what he had brought upon them.

  Twenty-three

  Callie woke to the sound of rustling paper.

  She opened her eyes at the noise then, disoriented in the dim, gray light that marked the predawn hour, closed them once more. The fire in her room had gone out hours ago, and she cuddled closer to the source of heat next to her, stretching against the smooth, warm skin…before realizing precisely to whom the skin in question belonged.

  Her eyes flew open, and she met Ralston’s bold, amused gaze.

  “Good morning, Empress.” She felt more than heard the words as they rumbled in his chest, filled with sleep, and she blushed. After all, it wasn’t every day that she woke to a man in her bed. She wasn’t entirely sure how to respond, but she felt certain that ignoring him was highly improper. Pulling away from him in a desperate attempt to restore a semblance of ladylikeness to her person, she said, “Good morning. What time is it?”

  “Just before five,” he answered, one arm snaking around her and pulling her back to her original position, pressed against his very warm, very hard, very naked body. “Altogether too early to leave this bed.”

  “We shall be caught!” she whispered.

  “I shall leave before that will happen, lovely,” he promised, “but first, I must return something to you.” He lifted his free hand and, in horror, she recognized the paper he held. Her list.

  She lunged for it, and he easily held it away from her, forcing her to squirm across his chest, reaching for the parchment. She quickly realized that she was fighting a losing battle and stopped, turned accusing eyes on him. “You had it!”

  “You needn’t look at me as though I stole it, lovely.” He spoke with mock affront. “You misplaced it. I merely rescued it for you.”

  “Well,” she said, her voice sweet, “I am very lucky to have you as my savior, aren’t I?” She reached out for the paper. “I should like it back.”

  “I shall be happy to oblige, of course,” he said, waving the paper idly in the air, “but don’t you think that, considering our new relationship, I should be let in on your little list? After all, I shouldn’t like to be taken unawares by your eccentric activities once we’re married.”

  Callie’s eyes widened. “No! You can’t! You promised you wouldn’t look!” She wriggled against him again, resuming her quest to rescue her list from his clutches.

  “Yes, well, that’s what you get for attaching yourself to a renowned cad,” he teased, groaning as her lush breasts pressed against his chest. He stilled her with one hand. “Be careful, Empress, or I shall have to prove myself a rogue once more.”

  She was filled with feminine understanding at the power her nakedness had over him. She slithered against him, deliberately rubbing across one of his nipples, and reveled in the hissing sound of his breath. “Minx,” he growled, stealing her lips for a deep kiss. Ending the caress, he said, “No. You shan’t distract me. Let’s have a look at this list.”

  Recognizing defeat, Callie buried her face against him, cheeks flaming, as he read the list. What would he think of her? What would he say? She waited, the hair on his chest tickling her nose, for him to respond to her ridiculous list.

  He was silent for a long while. And then he said, “Which of these did you do first?”

  And she wanted to die of embarrassment. She shook her head.

  “Callie. Which one came first?”

  She answered, the words muffled by his chest.

  “I can’t hear you, love.”

  She turned her head, pressing her ear to where she could hear the strong, steady beat of his heart. “Kissing.”

  His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “The night you came to Ralston House.”

  She nodded, face on fire. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Why me?”

  He’d asked the question in his bedchamber that night, and she’d answered with a half-truth. But this morning, as dawn crept across the sky in long, pink streaks, Callie found that she did not want to lie. She wanted him to know her. Even if it risked everything.

  “Because I wanted it to be you. From the beginning. I wanted my first kiss to be with you.”

  “The other day,” he said quietly, stroking his hand along the soft skin of her shoulders, “at Ralston House. You said it had always been me. What does that mean?”

  She stiffened against him, and he waited while she considered his question. She did not meet his eye when she said, “I’ve loved you for ages. For longer than I should have, I imagine.”

  “How?”

  She paused long enough for him to think she might not answer. “We met once. I was young and impressionable. You were charming and unobtainable and…I couldn’t help myself.” She looked away again, staring into nothing. “You’re rather difficult to ignore.”

  “Why do I not remember?” he asked softly.

  “I’m not exactly a legendary beauty.” A ghost of a smile flashed and her gaze fell to his chest, where her fingers idly stroked the smattering of dark hair there. “I’m rarely noticed, actually.”

  He captured her hand, stilling it, and forced her to meet his eyes. “I don’t know how I didn’t notice you, Callie, but I can tell you that I was rather an imbecile not to have done so.” S
he caught her breath at the words, so honest, so forthright.

  His eyes returned to the paper. “You have some items to cross off this list.”

  She followed the direction of his gaze, reading. “Gambling,” she agreed, “I shall cross it off the moment I am again in possession of the list. Should that ever happen again,” she added meaningfully.

  He looked back at her, his eyes dark and serious despite her attempt at lightheartedness. “Not just gambling, Callie. It’s time you realize how beautiful you are.”

  She looked away at the words, but he captured her chin in his hand and forced her to meet his gaze again as he spoke. “You are, quite possibly, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

  “No…” she whispered, “I am not. But it is very kind of you to say it.”

  He shook his head firmly. “Hear me well. I cannot begin to list all the things about you that are beautiful—a man could lose himself in your eyes; in your lovely, full lips; in your silken hair; in your soft, luscious curves; in your creamy, perfect skin and the way you blush and turn it the color of an exquisite, ripe peach. And that’s without considering your warmth, your intelligence, your humor, and the way I am utterly drawn to you when you enter a room.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes at the words—words she desperately wanted to believe.

  “Never doubt how beautiful you are, Callie. For your beauty has quite ruined me for all others. And, frankly, I rather wish I’d found you years ago.”

  So do I, she thought. What if he’d noticed her all those years ago? What if he’d courted her then? Would she have had a life filled with romance and passion? Would she have avoided the deep, heart-wrenching loneliness that she’d so long denied?

  And what about him? Would he have learned to love?

  Her emotions played across her face and, while he couldn’t have known precisely what she was thinking, he seemed to understand nevertheless. He took her lips in a passionate kiss and she matched it, pouring a depth of feeling into the caress and stealing his breath.

  When the kiss ended, he offered her a wicked grin. “I shall just have to make up for lost time, I imagine.” And she couldn’t help but laugh at his rakish tone. “Would you like to cross another item off this list today?”