The Rake to Redeem Her Read online

Lower she scrubbed, over the taut belly, the smooth curve of hip bone, until finally she took him in her hands.

  His breath hissed out and he shuddered as she massaged the lather around his glorious hardness. Unable to resist temptation any longer, she leaned in and took one nipple between her teeth.

  ‘Elodie!’ he cried with a muffled gasp, then jerked her chin up to kiss her, one strong arm binding her to him. His mouth mastered hers, his tongue probing deep, leaving her senses swimming and giddy.

  Still, he did not take her. She knew instinctively that even now, if she pushed him away, he would let her go. Awe and gratitude filled her.

  And then, suddenly, she had to feel him there, in that aching, needy place that had been unsatisfied for so long. Her body had been handled and bullied, but not since she was very young, falling in love with the man who’d been so briefly her husband, had she encountered tenderness.

  Still revelling in his kiss, she wound her arms around his neck and pulled herself up, so she could wrap her legs around his waist. Bringing his rigid erection to the hot, moist openness only he could fill.

  Groaning, he broke the kiss. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes! Please! Now,’ she gasped back, then uttered a long, slow moan of ecstasy as he entered her.

  Then, he was walking with her, his hands cupping her bottom to hold her in place as he took them deeper and downstream, beneath the tender summer-green branches of a huge tree that overshadowed the bank. Kissing her again, he balanced her in his hands, using the river’s current and the water’s buoyancy to augment his thrusts.

  It was delicious, floating submerged in coolness yet captured at her very core by urgent, demanding heat. The sensations built and built and built as she rode him, her breath gone to sobbing gasps, her nails digging into the muscles of his shoulders, until finally she shattered and spun apart into dazzling shards of pure delight.

  She came to herself, clinging weakly to him, her whole body limp, his hardness still buried deep within her throbbing core. ‘Ma petite ange,’ he murmured, kissing her again, light, feathery touches on her eyelids, her brows, her forehead. He licked her throat, the shell of her ear, the edges of her lips, until the spiral within began to rotate again and she rocked her hips against his.

  Exquisite sensation shot through her when he put his mouth to her breasts, rolling the tender nipples between his teeth. Desire accelerated, building hotter and faster, making her thrust towards him while the flow of the river magnified every movement. In a rolling, rhythmic motion, they slid together, tugged apart, the liquid friction within and without catapulting her to the waterfall’s peak, where this time, they tumbled over together.

  Some timeless interval later, Will pulled her with him to the bank. Under the embrace of the overhanging tree’s branches, he sat, settling her between his legs, his warmth cradling her from the chill of air and water. ‘I really had planned for there to be wooing, fine food and wine, a bed,’ he said, planting a kiss on her head.

  ‘I know,’ she said on a sigh. ‘I just couldn’t wait any longer.’

  ‘I’m glad you couldn’t. I’ve wanted that for months.’

  ‘You haven’t known me for months,’ she pointed out.

  ‘True.’ He wrapped his arms around her. ‘But I’ve been looking for you all my life,’ he added, so softly she wasn’t sure whether she’d heard the words or only imagined them.

  So had she been looking, the thought struck deep. Hoping for a lover who would give back rather than demand, who would care about her, rather than simply use her. She’d lived on her own, by her wits, pummelling some small space of existence from a bully prizefighter of a world for so long, she had to go back into the mists of long-ago childhood to remember when she’d trusted anyone else to keep her safe. When she had last felt so protected. So … not alone.

  The realisation was both thrilling and terrifying. Will Ransleigh, who would drag her to the gallows to save his cousin, had no part in her future, and the notion that she could depend on him after tomorrow was madness.

  Yes, she’d been touched by his tenderness in seeing to her pleasure. Moved by his respect for her abilities and energised by the excitement of the sleight-of-hand they’d pulled off during their journey. But the sweetness of it was simply the rich dessert at the end of a meal—delectable, but not the sort of wholesome fare it took to sustain life.

  Her life was with Philippe and that was an end to it.

  She struggled, trying to use logic to disentangle her emotions from him, but like pulling at a fraying cloth, ragged threads of connection remained. Giving up, she made herself move away from him, squelching her body’s protest at the loss of his warmth.

  ‘It’s good you had the foresight to find us a resting place that cannot be observed from the road,’ she said, trying for some dispassionate comment.

  ‘I know you trust me to keep us safe.’

  She wanted to deny it, but had to admit the statement was true. It should frighten her anew to realise she’d fallen into such an instinctive reliance on him … but that reliance remained, tenacious as the river tugging at her ankles.

  Which was illogical and dangerous. If she weren’t exceedingly careful, this man could stop before it ever began her hunt for Philippe in Paris and she must never forget that.

  Pushing her ungovernable emotions aside in disgust, she said, ‘If we don’t dress soon, we will freeze.’

  ‘I suppose. But I don’t want you dressed.’ He skimmed his fingers over her breasts, down between her legs. She sighed and lay back against him, feeling his spent member stir.

  ‘Don’t tempt me,’ he said with a groan. ‘Just the touch of you arouses me and we need to be sensible. We must dress now and ride quickly if we want to reach the village before dark.’

  ‘Yes, sensible,’ she agreed. Movement was what she needed. Returning to their travels, like rewinding a stopped clock, would set her emotions back on their proper course and reanimate her purpose, both shocked to a halt by the intensity of this interlude. Remind her that, but for one night of pleasure, their paths must diverge.

  ‘We should purchase some livestock, too. Chickens, perhaps? The easier to blend in with the other farmers headed to market.’

  ‘Another good idea. You’re quite resourceful.’

  She couldn’t help feeling warmed by his praise. ‘I’ve had to be.’

  He helped her rise, his hands at her waist. ‘Posing as man and wife for tonight,’ he murmured, bending to kiss her, ‘is your best idea yet.’

  Ah, yes, she still had tonight, their last night, to savour. Her reward for all her forbearance along the road.

  Passion, she could give him, though she could pledge him nothing else. Framing his face in her hands, she murmured, ‘Perhaps livestock isn’t so essential. All we really need is a room with a bed.’

  ‘I hope that’s a promise.’

  She skimmed her fingers from his shoulders over his torso and down his body before leaning to snag his breeches and toss them up. ‘Count on it.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Like a man and a maid in love for the first time, they helped each other dress, Will touching, kissing, laughing with Elodie as she donned her simple maid’s gown and he changed back into a combination of working man and gentleman’s attire that might be worn by a prosperous farmer. He knew that once they reached Paris, she would try to slip away from him, but he felt too light and euphoric to worry about it, happiness fizzing in his chest like a freshly opened bottle of champagne.

  He’d had many an adventure, but never one like this. Never with a woman who was as uncomplaining a companion as a man, as resourceful as any of the riding officers with whom he’d crept through the Spanish and Portuguese wilderness, working with partisans and disrupting the French.

  Coming together at irreconcilable cross-purposes, their liaison was too fragile to last, but for now, he’d be like his Elodie and suck every iota of joy from an already glorious day that promised, once he’d taken care of provisions
for the morrow and found her a room with a bed, to become even more wonderful.

  He twined his fingers in hers as they went back to their horses. ‘How glad I am to be out of those monk’s robes! I’ve been dying to touch you as we travel.’

  ‘Good thing,’ she agreed. ‘Since you’re grinning like a farmer who’s just out-bargained a travelling tinker. I doubt anyone could look at us now and not know we are lovers.’

  He stopped to give her a kiss. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘No. I’m grateful for each moment we have together … Will. One never knows how many that may be.’

  Happiness bubbled up again as she said his name for the first time, lifting his lips into a smile. He loved how she pronounced it, rolling the ‘l’s so it was drawn out, like a caress.

  He loved her simplicity and directness, her matter-of-fact approach to life, not fretting over problems incessantly like a shrew with a grievance, but considering them carefully, making the best plan she could and then putting them out of mind. So she was able to draw solace and find joy … in her garden, beside a river.

  This time, she’d brought him joy, too. Tonight, in their bed, he would give that back and more, everything, all that was in him.

  Only then would he face the dilemma of taking her back to England.

  As they approached the village on the outskirts of Paris, they encountered more fellow travellers. After making a circuit of the town, Will chose an inn frequented by respectably dressed men and women—busy enough to indicate its food and service were of good quality, but not elegant enough to attract the wealthy and well connected.

  After turning their horses in to a livery, he obtained dinner and a room at the inn he’d selected. It required all his self-discipline, after climbing the stairs and opening the door to a snug chamber with table, chairs and a bed that beckoned, to leave Elodie alone while he went off to purchase a dozen chickens and the cart to haul them in.

  Anxious to complete the arrangements, he didn’t even bother haggling with the farm woman whose fine fat pullets caught his eye. Settling quickly on a higher price than he’d ordinarily pride himself on getting, he took over the hens, content to leave her thinking she’d struck a good bargain, but not so good that she’d brag to her neighbours about getting the best of a lackwit stranger.

  Even this close to Paris, one couldn’t be too careful about avoiding notice.

  He settled the purchases behind the inn’s stables, to the raised eyebrows of the grooms. Farmers, even prosperous ones, didn’t usually store their squawking produce at an inn the night before bringing them to market.

  But they’d be gone on the morrow before the grooms on duty had a chance to gossip in the taproom, if indeed any watchers had picked up their trail. Will didn’t think so; he’d been vigilant—except for a short time at the river—and he’d seen no evidence of their being followed.

  Someone would be looking for them in Paris, however. But he’d worry about getting them safely through the city—and out again, Elodie in tow—tomorrow.

  Visions of seduction now filling his head, Will hurried back to the inn. For the first time in days, they’d eat a fine dinner and sip wine by their own fire. They’d talk about their adventures, about her life, about Paris.

  Maybe she’d even tell him about the mysterious ‘Philippe’. Though initially he’d expected during the journey she would try to lull him with lies, when she finally did open up to him, every instinct told him what she’d related was the truth.

  Then he’d knead her shoulders, massage her back, take down the honey-brown hair she’d kept hidden and, for the first time, comb his fingers through the long silken strands. Undress her slowly, bit by bit, kissing the newly revealed flesh, as he’d dreamed of for so many solitary nights. Taste the fullness of her breasts, rake the pebbled nipples against his teeth, gauging her arousal by the staccato song of her breath. Finally, he’d taste the honey of her fulfilment on his tongue before he sheathed himself in her and pleasured her again and again.

  His body humming with anticipation, he took the stairs two at a time and knocked at the door to their chamber. ‘It’s Will,’ he said softly before unlocking it.

  He entered to find the room in semi-darkness, lit by the flickering fire on the hearth and a single candle on the table. From the shadows of the bed, Elodie held out her hands. ‘Come to me, mon amant.’

  She sat propped against the pillows, the bedclothes at her waist. At the sight of her naked breasts, full and beautiful in the candlelight, his member leapt and all thoughts of dinner vanished.

  ‘Nothing would please me more,’ he said, pulling at the knot of his cravat, already impatient for the touch and taste of her.

  ‘No, don’t! Come here,’ she beckoned. ‘Let me undress you. I want to honour you, inch by inch.’

  Emotion squeezed his chest while his member hardened to a throbbing intensity. Always a success with the ladies, he had been pleasured by blushing maids, loved by neglected wives, seduced by bored matrons who enjoyed the forbidden thrill of bedding an earl’s illegitimate nephew. But no woman had ever vowed to ‘honour’ him.

  ‘Willingly’ was all he could choke from his tight throat.

  Swiftly he came to the bed, where she urged him to sit. He kissed her head, finding her hair still damp from a bath, that lavender scent enveloping her again. His mouth watered. ‘You smell good enough to eat.’

  She smiled. ‘We shall both eat our fill tonight.’ Tilting down his chin, she leaned up to kiss him, slipping her tongue into his mouth.

  Not until his brain registered a sensation of coolness at his chest did he realise she’d unfastened his cravat and opened his shirt. Breaking the kiss, she moved her mouth there, licking and kissing until impeded by the shirt’s edges. Murmuring, she urged his arms up and pulled the garment over his head.

  ‘Better.’ She trailed nibbling kisses along his collarbone while her fingers shaped and massaged the muscles of his back and shoulders. She kissed from his neck down his chest, flicking her tongue teasingly just to the edge of his nipples, until they burned for her touch. He arched his back, manoeuvring his torso until her lips reached them, shuddering as she suckled them and raked her teeth across the tips.

  Meanwhile, her fingers moved lower, beneath the back waistband of his trousers, to cup and squeeze his buttocks. He uttered a strangled groan, his member surging.

  She glanced up at the sound. ‘You must be tired. Lie down, mon chevalier,’ she murmured, guiding him back against the pillows.

  As he reclined, she removed his boots, giving him a delightful view of her naked back and bottom as she tugged.

  The temptation was too great; he seized her and pulled her up to straddle his lap while with the other hand, he undid his trouser flap. She gasped, then uttered a little growling sound as she guided his swollen shaft into her slick passage and rocked her hips to take him deep.

  He wrapped an arm around her back to pull her closer. As he branded her neck with his lips and teeth, he slipped the fingers of his free hand between them to caress her soft wet nub while he moved in her.

  Panting, she arched against him, pushing him deeper. He moved his lips to her breast while his hand cupped her mound and his fingers played at the entrance, sliding into her to the rhythm of their thrusts.

  Sweat coated his body, his neck corded and his arms grew rigid with the effort to hold himself near the peak without going over. And then she came apart in his arms, crying his name. Her tremors set off his own, a pleasure so intense he saw stars exploding against blackness as he spent himself in her.

  For some time after, they lay limply in each other’s arms. All his life, he’d been impatient, restless, driven by some intangible something to keep moving, searching for a destination he could never quite identify. For the first time, he felt utterly content, filled with an enormous sense of well-being. A deep sense that he belonged here, in this moment, with her.

  His suspicions, along with the last bit of the anger he’d harboured again
st her, both gradually dwindling since they’d left Vienna, vanished completely.

  He must have dozed, for he opened his eyes to find Elodie, still deliciously naked, sitting on the edge of the bed, pouring a glass of wine. ‘For you, mon amant,’ she said, handing it to him. ‘To keep up your strength. You will need it. Now, where was I before I was so pleasantly interrupted? Ah, here.’

  She tugged at the waistband of his unfastened trousers. Obligingly, he lifted himself, letting her pull them free and toss them to the floor. ‘That’s better. Naked, just as I want you.’

  Her eyes gleaming, her expression sultry as a harem concubine intent on enticing a sultan, she gave him a wicked smile. ‘Now I may see and taste … everything.

  She extracted the wine glass from his fingers and took a sip. ‘I’ll need my strength also. To make this a night you will never forget.’

  Some subtle sound roused him from a fathom’s depth of sleep. Will rose slowly to consciousness, the room steeped in darkness, his whole body thrumming from senses wonderfully satisfied, like a chord still vibrating after the last note of a virtuoso’s performance. A night you will never forget.

  He certainly never would.

  After that first lovemaking, she’d eased him back against the pillows and straddled him again, taking him within. And then sat chatting of Paris and London as if she were conversing at some diplomatic dinner, all the while moving slowly, rocking him inside her, her breasts bobbing deliciously close to his lips.

  It was arousing, erotic, unlike anything he’d ever experienced. At first, he tried to match her aplomb and respond to the conversation, but after several times losing track of his sentences, he gave up the effort and closed his eyes, savouring the sensations.

  Breathing itself became nearly impossible when, chatting still, she reached beneath him to where his plump sacks lay hidden, squeezing and massaging them while she urged his cock deeper. Pleasure burst in him, even more intense than the first time.

  They dozed, roused to eat their cold dinner, slept again. He woke to find her head pillowed on his thigh. Noting his sudden alertness, she leaned over to trace his length with the tip of her tongue. As his member surged erect, she captured him in the hot velvet depths of her mouth, driving him to another powerfully intense release.