Jane Lark - The Passionate Love of a Rake

She shivered as she’d done the other night.

It sent a sharp knife-thrust of desire into his groin.

Ignoring it, he handed the garment to the butler.

All this black was trapping the vibrant Jane he’d known beneath it, sucking the colour out of her. She was a mere shadow of the real Jane. If he could peel it all away, as he’d done the other night, would she be free of what bothered her?

“Selford, Lord Barrington and I would like tea,” she ordered of the butler. “We’ll take it in the drawing room. Is Lady Rimes at home?”

“Her ladyship is, Your Grace. Lady Rimes retired to her chamber an hour ago.”

“Thank you, Selford. Do not disturb her on our account then,” Jane acknowledged before moving on. “My Lord.” The call was for Robert to follow.

Watching her in a place she felt at home was different again, but Robert felt like a bloody lapdog trailing after her. Still, he could enjoy the view, the slimness of her bare arms beneath the short, puffed sleeves of her day dress and the snug fit of her black muslin bodice. The way the material hugged the curve of her breasts and waist. Her black hair was simply dressed in a neat coiffeur, pinned back from her face, apart from a few wispy curls which had escaped to brush her brow.

She led him upstairs and along the hall to a pink room, heavily perfumed by a vase of roses in full bloom, then pointed to a chair. “Do sit down, my Lord. Is tea suitable? Or would you prefer something stronger? I could ring if you’d prefer brandy.”

He took a step towards her. “Nothing, Jane, except to know what I’ve done to upset you. Why were you hiding from me today? You have no right to hold a grudge, you know. I admit, I may have pressed you a little fast the other night, but … ” He left the sentence there, prompting for her explanation.

Her expression slipped from diplomatic Duchess to the new wary, vulnerable Jane, and her fingers clasped together before her waist. She glanced towards the window when she spoke. “You have not upset me.” When her gaze returned, the Duchess was back. It hit him with the strength of steel. “It is just that … ” She stopped, swallowing back her words, then began again and threw her words at him instead. “For heaven’s sake, Robert, it is hardly five weeks since Sutton died.”

His eyes scanned her face wondering what the hell was going on, and his hand touched her arm.

She moved back.

“But you are in London, regardless, Jane, and attending entertainments.” She could hardly claim to be really mourning Sutton, no matter her blacks. She was flouting convention. How did she expect him to take that explanation? Her behaviour hardly said she had been devoted to the man.

She turned away and walked across the room. “I am visiting a friend, nothing more. I did not come here for the season or the entertainments.”

He caught a glimpse of her figure through the loose folds of her gown as she moved, the fabric brushing her hips and thighs. When she turned back his eyes lifted first to her bust, then to her face.

“So you do mourn him then?” he pressed, not moving, letting her run if that was what she wished. Taming her would be like training a mare to the saddle, a step forward and then withdraw. Giving her time to grow accustomed to each stage.

She sought refuge behind a sofa across the room, her fingers gripping its back. “In a fashion. But it is none of your business.”

“No?” He did step forward now.

“No, Robert.” She held her ground.

“Then explain exactly why you came home with me the other night, and why you then changed your mind?”

She sighed as if irritated by his question.

He continued walking forward.

She did not move, although her eyes followed him with a steady look.

“I did not change my mind. I had not intended to … ” She stopped, blushed and glanced upwards, as though the ceiling, or God, could give her the words. Clearly, something had as she refocused her gaze on him, the hardened Duchess again, daring him to challenge her and argue. “All I wished to do was talk. I did not mean to hurt you then or now, but I do not want to commence a flirtation with you. The other night was a mistake.”

“So you told me yesterday.” His voice was a mocking growl. He was annoyed despite himself. “But I think you are unhappy, and I do not believe you are grieving. So why are you miserable?”

She blushed harder and leaned to pick up a copy of La Belle Assemblée from a low table, before dropping into a seat on the sofa. He knew she was trying to appear casual. She did not succeed.

“I am happy.”

She was not, her intonation was thoroughly unconvincing and her movement taut.

Occupying a chair opposite her, he answered, “ Liar ,” letting a lilting smile catch his lips to ruffle her feathers.

A blush painted her ivory cheeks, and her gaze popped up again, the purest emerald cloaked by long, dark lashes. “I am in no mood for your games, my Lord.”

“Robert,” he snapped, leaning forward in the chair, resting one elbow on his knee. “Do not try to hide behind formality, no matter your feelings. And I am not the one playing games. I took you to my house because you asked to go, and then you changed your mind and I brought you home. I offered you your winnings. You refused to accept them. You asked me to leave you alone at the bookshop, and I obeyed, but you called me back. It is not I playing games, is it, Jane?”

She was silent as she held his gaze, then she coloured up again and concluded. “I am in a difficult position, Robert. Please, do not make it harder?”

“ She’s vulnerable.” Robert stood with a sudden need to understand her predicament and crossed the room to occupy the seat beside her on the sofa. Then he gripped one of her hands. “Confide in me, Jane. Something is wrong. I am convinced of it today. A problem shared is a problem halved, as I recall. What harm is there in telling me? What is going on?”

Her eyes met his, saline making them gleam in the bright sunlight streaming through the window, defining the emerald green like the jewel itself.

He was not, in general, a man of much depth. He did not seek to know people well, and he certainly did not wish to take on other people’s problems. But this was not just any other person. This was Jane. As he waited, earnestly willing her to speak, a sharp pain settled in his gut, the age-old need and longing he felt for this woman. He was like a starving man in her presence. Bloody desperate was what he was.

Her fingers pulled from his grip.

Even holding her hand made him lust after her; his groin was heavy. He thought she was tempted to tell for a moment, but then her eyes clouded and her gaze dropped.

Jane felt the intensity in Robert’s deep brown eyes silently urge her to speak, and daylight caught the lighter shades, turning them gold as she watched him. She couldn’t speak though; it was not fair to drag him into this, she’d hurt him enough once.

Her eyes dropped back to the magazine. “Nothing is wrong, my Lord.”

His knee touched hers, and she felt his muscle stiffen. Then he rose sharply and paced across the room. “ Liar ,” he said again when he stopped and turned back. His tone was sharp and condescending.

He was angry with her, and she could hardly blame him. She’d told him to leave her alone then called him back and imposed upon him to convey her to Violet’s.

And, of course, he had no idea she’d only done it to avoid Joshua. She’d told herself she’d invited Robert inside out of common courtesy, but she knew she had invited him in because, despite the fact this man was not her tender-hearted Robert, she still felt safer with him. She simply did not want to let him go yet. She just needed time to feel confident again.