Page 6 of My Lady Rake
“I know men like that,” St. Ervan said. “They miss a good deal of enjoyment, in my opinion.”
“Mine, too. I wonder what people do with their time, who don’t enjoy a good book.”
The corners of his mouth twitched, and she realized how her words could be taken. Rather than embarrassment, she felt flirtatious. “All my hours reading have never interfered with social activities.”
“You enjoy a full life.”
“Yes, I do. Some might not see it that way, but I’m happy.”
“That’s as it should be.”
When he didn’t argue that she should marry again, have children, and create that traditional life everyone insisted she should wish for, she was surprised. She relaxed a bit more, finding some hope that they would enjoy a pleasant outing with no pressure to be something she wasn’t. The main reason she only attended assemblies or parties on her own was to avoid the need to make herself appear to be attracted to some man. Appear to be interested in knowing him better, which she wasn’t. If she were a man she’d be known as a rogue or a rakehell, and never invited to join proper Society. As a woman, she didn’t receive the invitations either, but she was never called anything but a scandal.
And that suited her just fine.
CHAPTER3
Later that night as he was preparing for bed, St. Ervan heard his dog barking behind the house. He looked out the window of his bedchamber and in the torchlight he saw Verity playing chase with Elmer, his large, shaggy black and white Newfoundland dog. He smiled. Seeing her like this was like removing a mask at a ball and discovering the person beneath.
He hurriedly pulled back on his trousers and boots, tucked a shirt in before throwing on a waistcoat and fumbled through enough buttons to be decent. Not that he needed to be decent for Verity, but his other guests might still be awake and he didn’t want any more gossip directed at her than necessary. He raced down the back staircase.
Verity and Elmer were near the fountain—correct that, Elmer was in the fountain, his favorite spot when they weren’t at the beach. St. Ervan heard Verity squeal suddenly and knew she’d gotten wet. She trotted backward, away from the shaking dog spraying water, with an airy laugh. When she collided with him, he caught her and kept her from falling. Verity turned to face him, laughter still spilling from her, and he clasped her shoulders. Her joy was contagious and he needed to share it.
Then her gaze locked on his. Even with the light from the nearby torch, he couldn’t read anything in their depths, but he noticed she held her breath. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers before he could talk himself out of it.
Cold from the brisk night air, her lips warmed quickly under his. Her breath heated his cheek. St. Ervan ran his tongue over the fullness of her bottom lip and her mouth opened to him. The slightest whimper escaped her when his tongue brushed hers, the sound breaking what little control he held onto.
He probed deeper into Verity’s mouth as his hands cradled her face, enjoying the softness of her skin. So fragile, yet she had such power over him. It was a dangerous combination and left him wanting to carry her off to his bedchamber to protect her from the world. To savor every inch of her while sharing her with no one.
He smoothed his hands over the roughness of her wool shawl and continued down, slipping under the warm garment to envelop her waist. As his thumbs drew circles on her ribs, gradually reaching the curves of her breasts, she gasped. She shifted slightly, allowing his right hand to cup the small mound.
St. Ervan drew back, wishing he could tell what she was thinking. He pressed her head against his chest and rested his chin there while he gathered his thoughts. If he took her to bed now, he’d be no better than the rogues she toyed with at Tantalus, and he wanted so much more.
“You’re awfully quiet,” she said.
Her voice brought him out of his thoughts. “I go blank when I look at you. Your hair is wild, all tousled from sleep, or play. It’s like you rose up out of the mist to seduce me.”
She laughed. “Some siren I’d make. I’m short, chubby and can’t carry a tune.”
Unable to stop himself, he grabbed a handful of her ass. “Chubby, hell. Your curves make me hungry. If I’m not careful, I’ll be taking a bite of this before we can return to the house.”
Verity shifted in his arms and lifted her head. “Let’s go upstairs.”
Damn. He was not weak. He had control over his hardening arousal. He could do this, take her to his bedchamber and talk to her, make sure she really understood what his expectations were, before taking her into his bed.
Who was he kidding? If it weren’t for all the guests inside his house he’d lift her skirt and take her right here. “We should wait.”
“Wait…”
“I don’t want you as a mistress.”
Her smile faded, her brows drew together, and she shifted away from him. “I don’t want to be your mistress. I simply want to bed you.”
Those words sounded odd to him. How few women of his acquaintance would agree to a tumble with no strings attached? And he was the odd man out, being the one demanding strings…or a ring. He cupped her cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb over her smooth skin. “When you come to my bed, it will be as my wife.”
Verity stiffened and stepped back, drawing her shawl tightly around her as if to protect herself from him. “I won’t marry you or anyone else. My heart belongs to Levi Stanhope, and I won’t marry without love.”
“I won’t marry without love either, my dear. But I won’t argue with you tonight. Come, let’s go inside before you catch a chill.”