Anne Herries - Date with a Regency Rake - The Wicked Lord Rasenby / The Rake's Rebellious Lady

‘If you will not rouse yourself from your beer, then I will just have to commandeer a carriage myself.’ She had nowhere near sufficient funds in her purse to do so, but she tried not to think about that obstacle for the moment. Clarissa moved purposefully to the looking glass above the fire in order to adjust the strings of her bonnet.

He moved like a cat. One second he was lolling in a hard wooden chair, drinking from a brimming tankard, the next he was on his feet, standing all too close, his presence dominating her slim form, his face not angry exactly but stern. Forbidding. The full extent of her predicament struck Clarissa forcibly. No one knew where she was or who she was with. She had little money. And this man, this impossibly attractive, intimidating, overpoweringly strong man, was in full command of the situation. Nervously, Clarissa licked her dry lips, and decided to try a different tack.

‘You are teasing me, Kit, I know you are. But really, the joke has gone too far. I must go home now. We have agreed terms. You are happy with my proposal, you said so yourself. You’ll be wanting your dinner soon. And surely your horses will be rested by now. You will no doubt wish to have a think about our adventure too, to spend some time planning it. So we should go now, and make arrangements to meet in a few days. Should we not?’ Her voice faltered, seeing no change on his face, no response at her attempt to lighten the mood. ‘Kit?’

He was looking down 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 .’

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.