Page 5 of A Virgin for the Rakish Duke (Romancing a Rake #3)

CHAPTER FIVE

H arriet forgot the shackle. She forgot the house in which she stood and the hundred guests that filled it. She forgot her brother and the anger that would consume him if he knew what she was doing at that moment. Her senses began and ended with the contact between her lips and his.

Her fingers laced between his, where their hands were shackled together.

She became aware of the cold touch of metal against her wrist, but the sensation was lost against the warmth of his lips.

It felt as though he was beginning to pull away, and she found herself putting her arms around his waist, pulling his body against hers.

She held on tightly and was rewarded by the feel of his hard muscle pressing against her soft femininity.

She rose onto her tip-toes to make the contact between them deeper.

His lips parted, and hers did likewise. She felt a moment of shock as his tongue darted between her lips.

Shock, replaced moments later with pleasure.

She pushed her own tongue against his, savoring the masculine taste of him.

A moan rose up in her as his hands wandered down her back to encompass her derrière, squeezing and lifting so that her hips were ground against his.

The insistent hardness of his body was undeniable, and Harriet was sufficiently educated to know what it meant. Her head spun in a delirium brought on by long-suppressed desire.

How many nights have I lain awake dreaming of being held in a man's arms; of his body in contact with mine. I did not imagine it could feel like this!

Her fingers ran through his long hair, tightening and pulling.

It brought a gasp from him, which ran through her body like a spike of molten metal.

To know that she had made him feel pleasure was utterly intoxicating.

She ran her fingers down the side of his angular, harsh face, down his throat, which felt soft by comparison.

Their kissing had ceased to be the demure exchange of closed mouths and brief contact. She felt as though he was drinking her in and she, doing the same. She wanted to touch every part of him and be touched in return.

Something bumped against her back, and she realized they had been moving until she had collided against the wall.

One of Jeremy's hands ran down her buttocks and curved inward at the top of her thighs, making her whimper in sheer, shocked but pleased desire.

The layers of fabric that separated his touch from her most intimate womanhood felt as though they were nothing at all. He pressed inward, making her squeak.

In a paroxysm of passion, Harriet's hand went to the wall behind her, gripping at the panel. It knocked against something that moved with the grinding noise of heavy ceramic against wood. Then came an almighty crash.

Harriet's eyes flew open, and she looked down at the bust that had been knocked from a wooden pedestal within reach of her hand. Knocked to the hard stone floor, where it had shattered into a thousand pieces.

“What am I doing? Unhand me this minute!” she gasped.

Jeremy stepped back, looking equally as shocked. He looked about himself as though only now remembering where he was.

“We must get the key before someone else comes along,” he rasped, red-faced.

He strode away, and Harriet had to run to keep up.

How far would I have gone? Freedom is one thing, but this was sheer wanton lust! I allowed him to touch me in the most intimate way; and not just with his hands, God help me!

“Will you slow down?” she demanded.

“No time. I apologize, Lady Harriet, but I cannot afford to be caught in such a compromising position.”

“Perhaps shouldn't have come to a society ball bearing shackles then,” Harriet retorted.

“A harmless game,” Jeremy shot back, glancing at her over his shoulder.

“ Harmless ? We were almost caught by a Duke and an Earl, not to mention his wife, who seemed rather prim and proper to me!”

“ Harmless , which is not to say that it was not reckless on my part.” He smirked. “But then, what is life without a little risk, eh?”

“And now you say we must hurry because otherwise you might be compromised. What is life without a little risk, eh ?” Harriet repeated his own words to him and received a glare that almost silenced her.

I will not be intimidated by a man who thinks it appropriate to place a shackle on a woman's arm. Game or not!

She glared back. They reached the bookcase under which the key had flown. Jeremy got down onto his knees, which forced Harriet to do the same with a squawk of indignation.

“It's no good. The space is too narrow. I cannot reach it,” Jeremy muttered angrily.

“We need something thin and relatively long,” Harriet suggested. “We might try pushing the keys all the way through and out the other side.”

She stood, tugging on the shackled arm to bring Jeremy to his feet also. Then she began hunting along the rows of books.

“Good idea,” Jeremy said, joining the search and picking out a pamphlet with a stiff paper cover. “No, not rigid enough,” he tossed the pamphlet aside carelessly.

“Are you intent on making as much of a mess as possible? If you recall, the Duke knows we were in here!” Harriet chided.

“I care only for our liberation from each other,” Jeremy commented, still hunting and discarding.

Harriet laughed suddenly. Jeremy looked at her.

“Is there something humorous about this situation?” he challenged.

“Only that we seem to have raced through an ordinary relationship in the blink of an eye. We meet, feel an explosion of desire, become shackled, and now wish to be free of each other. Does that not usually take a couple of years to achieve?”

Jeremy snorted a laugh, too boyish and innocent for a man like him that it made her scowl. “So I believe. I have never experienced it for myself.”

He found a book with a thin cover of stiff leather, reinforced by card. He dropped to his knees, and Harriet was once again tugged along with him. He began squinting at the gap, face pressed to the floor, trying to see where the keys lay.

“You are unattached, I presume,” she murmured.

“And proudly so,” he replied.

“Is that not unusual, especially for a Duke?” she asked.

“How so?”

“I would expect a man in your position to consider the siring of an heir to be his utmost priority.”

“Found it!” Jeremy exclaimed triumphantly, beginning to insert the front cover of the book between bookcase and floor. “And no, it has never been something I cared overmuch about.”

There came the sound of metal against stone, and Jeremy looked up with a grin of triumph. Harriet could not help smiling back.

He is so very handsome. I cannot decide if he is more handsome when he looks angry or when he is smiling. It transforms his face... what am I thinking! This is an arrogant and depraved rake who does not deserve my good thoughts! I should run a mile as soon as I am able.

But the idea of running from him and never seeing him again, in all likelihood, was curiously anathema. She told herself it was how this episode would end, and she would count herself lucky if no one ever got to hear of it.

Yet a feeling of emptiness persisted.

Jeremy was scrambling around the bookcase on hands and knees, pulling Harriet with him. He scooped up the keys and undid the shackle around his own wrist.

Harriet held up her own, annoyed that he had addressed his own needs first. Jeremy reached over with the key but then paused. Harriet frowned.

“What are you waiting for?” she whispered, suddenly afraid that someone could walk in at any moment. Now that freedom was in sight, that fear rose up in her like a nightmare beast from the depths.

Jeremy seemed lost in thought, key hovering inches away from the lock, frowning. Harriet reached for the key herself, but he held it out of her reach, standing up. He still looked thoughtful, but his eyes were focused on her now and were sharp.

“Lady Harriet, I must implore you for your help. I am sorry that you have been dragged into this, but that cannot be helped now. It was an honest mistake and one I cannot undo.”

“Whatever are you talking about? Please give me the key,” Harriet pleaded, reaching for it.

Jeremy effortlessly held it up out of her reach, and Harriet began to feel desperate. Was this man some cruel-hearted rake who enjoyed humiliating women? That might explain the shackles, except that he had shackled himself as well.

“I must ask you for a favor, Lady Harriet. A… big one. You heard what the Winchesters’ said, they would not consider selling to me unless I am betrothed. And they must sell to me. All my plans for my future depend on it.”

Harriet listened in confusion, thinking only that she could hear footsteps outside, that time was running out.

“I don't understand what you're saying to me or why,” she hissed, “I only know that if my brother finds out that I went to the ball against his wishes, he will be furious. Please, Your Grace! Do you wish me to beg? I would do so on my knees, but I cannot while you remain standing.”

Jeremy laughed at that, a sudden explosion of mirth that Harriet found contagious.

She laughed, too, at the absurdity of the situation.

It was no less serious than it had been moments ago, but she laughed nonetheless.

His hand lowered automatically, and Harriet snatched the key from it, fumbling to get it into the lock.

His hand closed over hers and the shackle both.

He stepped closer, face suddenly intent.

“Play the part that you have already acted out. Be my betrothed, in name at least, until I can get Lady Margaret's signature on a contract of sale. A month at most.”

Harriet felt the click as the lock opened. She pulled her hand away, or tried to. Jeremy's own hand tightened, refusing to let her go.

“Will it be so bad? You've already seen how we can have fun together. A month of diversion and pleasure as my betrothed. A month of freedom from your brother. I know how protective he can be. How overbearing.”

Harriet tried to pull free again, but could not break that iron grip. Part of her did not want to. That part wanted to kiss him again, wanted him to hold her tightly. Wanted more...

No, I have risked too much already. I will risk no more!

She stamped on Jeremy's foot as hard as she could. He winced in pain, jumping back and releasing her hand. She threw down the shackle, stepping back a dozen paces.

“No. Absolutely not. I will not pretend to be your betrothed simply to help you conclude a... a business arrangement! What is it with gentlemen and business? It obsesses Ralph also.”

Jeremy looked frustrated, as though he had not expected her to refuse and could not understand why she did. He pocketed the shackles before stepping closer to her. He smiled, and Harriet felt her pulse flutter.

No doubt but a smile elevates his handsomeness to ridiculous levels. It is the smile of a rogue.

“May I call you Harriet?” he asked.

“You may,” Harriet wished she didn't sound so breathless.

“Harriet, I would be eternally grateful to you if you were to grant me this boon. It is a small thing, after all. Very small. A subterfuge that will last a matter of weeks.”

“ Why ?” she challenged.

The smile faltered, and she wondered how often it failed him.

“I have told you that,” he tried for the grin again.

“But not why it is so important to you,” she replied.

Jeremy sighed, turning away.

“I barely know you. Sister to my friend you may be, but as a person, you are a stranger to me. Should I disclose my plans to a stranger?”

Harriet began picking up the books that had been discarded during their search for the right one to extricate the key.

“Then I am too much a stranger to pretend to be your betrothed, Your Grace.”

She put the books back as neatly as she could and walked away.