Page 19 of Lady Farah Creates a Scandal (The Season of Secrets #2)

F arah simply smiled at Lucien. There was no way she’d ever consider his proposal—because of Courtney.

Liar—because of Rockwell. Carrying her unfinished glass of sherry, she entered her bedchamber.

She waited for the servants to leave before dipping her hand in the hot water.

She couldn’t wait to soak away the last two days’ worth of grime.

It would be quite a while before she had another chance for a bath.

She undressed and hopped into the water.

She lay back, grabbed her glass off the stool next to the tub, and tried to empty her mind so that she might actually sleep tonight.

But, of course, Rockwell filled her thoughts.

Would he come to her tonight? And if he did, how would she react?

He’d ignored her today, but they could hardly talk in front of Lucien and Caitria.

However, he’d also not sought her out for a conversation or more…

Was he regretting what they’d shared? Was she?

No. She wasn’t. If, after this scandal, she moved to her cottage in the country, then she’d unlikely experience passion and desire again.

She had a few days more with Rockwell, and they might be her last. What did she want to do?

Play it safe and protect her heart or let the timid mouse free.

There was only one thing she craved and that was Rockwell—for as long as she could have him.

To hell with anything else. The consequences were going to be the same, no matter what she did.

So, she would make the most of the time she had left with him.

But how to approach the seduction of Rockwell? It was something she had no experience with. Aside from throwing herself at him, what could she do?

Luckily, a knock on her door helped her decide, especially when Rockwell walked in without waiting for a reply. He started when he saw her naked in the tub. And so she did the one thing instinct urged her to do.

Lifting her head, she squared her shoulders, put aside her sherry glass, and, with great dignity, she gracefully stood up, naked, proud and tall in the tub, as water streamed down over her curves.

There was a glorious satisfaction at the reaction her emergence from the water provoked.

Longing flared across his finely chiseled features.

“I was coming to tell you I don’t think it’s a good idea to…

” Then he swore softly under his breath before flashing a mocking smile.

“Farah means beautiful in old English—did you know that? You are aptly named, for you truly are a beautiful woman.”

His gaze swept from her ankles, still hidden by the water, up her legs, halted at the thatch of fair curls at the apex of her thighs, continued over her stomach, and lingered again at her breasts, until finally resting on her face.

Heat stole through her body and pooled in her loins.

She noted his obvious arousal and the look of lust lighting his eyes.

It was all she could do not to jump from the tub and flee.

Farah kept her palms flat against her thighs, willing them not to cover herself. “I think I’d like to learn more about passion.” She crooked her finger. “With you.”

He slowly circled the tub until she could no longer see him—he was somewhere behind her.

She trembled in discomfort. It was unnerving not being able to see what he was looking at or read the expression in his eyes.

With her back to him, Farah felt more exposed than ever. Be brave. For once, be brave!

The quiet seemed to stretch on, the water dripping off her nude body into the tub the only sound. Each passing minute increased her body’s tremors.

Farah closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

He was close enough for his soft breath to caress her damp skin. “Well played, my timid mouse. I’m not sure who’s seducing whom.” Then she heard him curse softly, all while removing his clothes.

“What did Lucien want to discuss with you?”

She sunk back under the water. “Nothing of importance.”

“Really? Or is it that you just don’t want to tell me?” He slipped into the tub behind her and she leaned back on his chest.

“Would you tell me everything Lucien said to you?”

“Fair point. But I need to be prepared for what might happen when we return to London, if I’m to protect him.”

She closed her eyes and considered Rockwell’s words. There would probably be plenty of women willing to marry Lucien if it became common knowledge he needed money. “He offered a marriage of convenience if I found myself in need.”

“Did he indeed?” Rockwell’s tone was flat, as if they were talking about the weather.

“He thought we could help each other. My dowry to save me from scandal.”

“And what did you say?” Again, there was a coolness in his tone.

“I told him if he wanted such an arrangement, he should wait because of Courtney. I’m afraid I told him about her.”

His only response was a touch. A seductive slide of his warm finger down her spine. “I think he should be prepared before he arrives in London.”

She let out the breath she was holding and sighed. “I thought so too.”

He kissed her neck. “Now, what was that you were saying about passion?” He handed her a block of soap. “Turn round.”

She loved the command in his voice and as she turned to face him; she lathered up her hands, eager to feel him beneath her fingers.

He lifted one arm, and she washed it, marveling at the strength within the velvet steel muscles.

She swapped to the other arm and gave a gasp as his soapy hands found her breasts.

His fingers tweaked her nipples and heat arrowed down between her thighs.

She returned the favor, washing his nipples before leaning in and licking them.

She loved the shiver that ran through him.

“I can’t wash the rest of you underwater.

” He gave her a smile that would tempt a nun and rose like a god from the water.

With her on her knees, his manhood hung directly in front of her.

She lathered her hands before cupping him and then wrapping her hand tightly around him.

He went rock hard at her touch. He groaned and wrapped his hands in her hair.

The power she had over him in this moment would live with her forever.

He seemed to swell further into her hand. She leaned one hand on his rock-hard thigh, only to feel the tremors with each stroke of her hand on his cock.

Suddenly he lifted her, pulling her into his arms, and still dripping wet, he laid her on the bed and came down on top of her. “You’re playing havoc with my honor. I want to sink inside of you so badly.”

“I want that too,” she said as she reached between their bodies to wrap her hand around him once again.

“So, you agree to marry me?”

She stilled beneath him. “What has one got to do with the other? I thought we agreed to sneak me home under the rise of titillation regarding Lucien returning home. There is no need to sacrifice yourself.”

He pushed up onto his arms above her and looked down at their bodies. “I will not take your virginity unless we marry.”

“Do you say that to all the women you bed?”

“You’re not any woman, goddamn it. And I don’t make a habit of deflowering young ladies.

You’re a young lady who is the daughter of a duke—a friend.

I shouldn’t be bedding you at all. But I can’t seem to resist you.

” Then he took her lips in a searing kiss.

She kissed him back before turning her head away.

“I want to marry for love. I desire a large family. I want to have the kind of relationship Tiffany has with your brother. I want it all.”

Rockwell rolled off her to lie by her side, his breathing ragged. “I can’t give you what you want.”

She turned on her side to face him and put her hand over his heart. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Does it matter?”

He covered her hand where it lay over his heart.

“I am not like my brother. I don’t have it in me to be the man you want.

I’m far too selfish. I have—so much I want to do with my life.

How can I love you when I know I’ll leave you?

You’ll never know when and if I’ll be returning.

It isn’t fair to you or me.” He squeezed her hand.

“If we marry, I can offer you the protection of my name, my time when I’m in England, and financial security, but I can’t give you anything else. ”

At least he was being honest with her. She felt all hope shrivel and die.

He didn’t want to love. Yet he knew how to.

It was clear in the way he pursued finding Lucien.

And in how he cared for his sisters, especially Ashley.

And in the way he respected her. He just wanted his freedom more than he wanted her.

She rose from the bed and sat on the rug by the fire, a blanket wrapped around her and used her fingers to attack the tangles in her hair.

He joined her. They sat side by side, their skin drying, the heat from the fire keeping the chill at bay. The silence was not uncomfortable.

He turned to face her. “I’m sorry.”

She pushed his fringe off his face. “I respect your honesty.” She pressed a kiss to his lips, and he caught it and deepened it. Soon they were wrapped around each other and the kiss became almost desperate, as if they both knew this would be the last time they would be together like this.

The magnificence of his nude body took her breath away. The muscles of his chest and torso rippled and flexed, and her fingers longed to trail every inch like the shadows from the fire dancing over his naked skin.

Her eyes roamed over him in a thorough assessment, taking in the hard contours, the robust swell of his arms, the flat ridge of his abdomen, the flesh, thick and rampant between his legs—she committed it all to memory.