A Rake's Redemption

by G. L. Snodgrass

  Reaching, she tried to pull him on top of her. It was like trying to move a small mountain.

  He laughed and let himself be led to cover her. Using his knees, he parted her legs. His smoky eyes looked down at her as if asking one last time if she was sure this was what she wanted.

  She bit her lip and nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, Devlin, I need this more than I need life.”

  The sound of his given name coming from her own lips sent a tickle to the back of her brain. It had sounded so right, so perfect.

  He smiled as he positioned himself, then slowly began to enter her. She felt herself open for him as he filled her with himself.

  She swallowed hard as he reached her barrier, then one thrust and a quick burst of pain, followed almost immediately with a sense of wonder and fulfillment.

  It was as if she had become a new person.

  Was that it? she wondered, as he held steady, not moving. Was that all there was to the act? It had been wonderful, but somehow, she had expected more.

  Then, slowly, he began to move.

  Oh, my!

  Back, and forth. Slowly, as if he was worried about hurting her. The pace grew, building a need inside of her. A need for a release.

  He continued to thrust. She found herself meeting him. Move for move, passion for passion.

  She looked up at him. The look of pure male domination on his face. The concentration and determination made her insides melt.

  He continued to thrust into her, she continued to meet him. They worked together, building, growing, striving for some distant point of heaven.

  She felt herself almost there. Then, suddenly, he pulled back, held for a moment, teasing. Then thrust hard, one last time, as he exploded inside of her. She felt herself explode with him. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she tried to hang on. Tried to stop from losing her awareness.

  A sense of pure pleasure and attainment flowed through her. Every part of her tingled with awareness and the knowledge that she was alive.

  He smiled down at her then, fell to the side, pulling her into a warm embrace.

  Rebecca lay there, her hand touching the hairs on his chest. Listening to his heart race. Remembering every moment, every experience.

  That was unbelievably wonderful, she thought. And it must never happen again.

  There might be future consequences she realized. But, there would never be any regrets. No matter what happened in her life. This moment could never be taken from her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The coldness under her hand woke Rebecca with a start. The world was different. It had changed. The dark farmhouse, the soft sound of the fire. This strange new smell of a man and woman coming together.

  The recent events flashed into her mind with a start. Oh my God, she thought. What had she done? Her heart jumped with fear. Beating against the inside of her chest loud enough to be heard.

  The images, the feelings, the way she thought of herself. She could not push them away. No, she thought, as she fought to bring her heart under control. No regrets, remember. No matter what, no regrets.

  Smiling to herself, she snuggled back into the bed and pulled the blanket tight around her as she once again relived their short time together. Every caress, each new sensation. The discovery and sharing. All of it was taken out and enjoyed.

  Where is he? she wondered.

  Turning over, she glanced across the dimly lit room. The Duke, Devlin, she reminded herself. Stood before the fire, hands clasped behind his back, rocking on his heels as if he were fighting with a conundrum that could not easily be resolved.

  The firelight reflected off his strong jaw, and sharp cheekbones. Those large shoulders were bent slightly as if a heavy weight had been added to his toil.

  She wondered if she was that weight. Had she added to his worries? Was he even now regretting their time together? Did he dread the next few moments?

  Or was he preoccupied with something else entirely? Already having moved past their experience. Focused on his next conquest.

  She bit her lip and lay silently, watching him.

  He was fully dressed, which reminded her that she was naked under the blanket. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. What did he think of her? Had she been adequate? How did she compare to all those other women?

  The thoughts tumbled through her head. The sense of blissful pleasure was being replaced with the reality of the present.

  He turned to her and smiled. His silver eyes twinkling.

  “Hello sunshine,” he said.

  Her heart stopped. Was that how they were going to treat this? As if nothing had happened. As if what had transpired had not been the most earth shaking event in her life.

  She tried to smile back, but couldn’t muster the effort. Too much fear flowed through her body.

  “You should probably get dressed,” he said. “The men will be finished soon. Your clothes are almost dry.”

  Sometime, while she had slept. He had crept out of the bed to hang her clothes by the fire. Her dress lay across the back of a chair. Her stockings and underthings were draped over another.

  She swallowed hard as she tried to fight the shame that was rising within her. How dare he touch her things? How could he presume to do something so intimate?

  Because he has done a lot more than that. She realized.

  Because he has made love to you. Brought you to unbelievable heights that you would never have known existed otherwise.

  Because he is a Duke. They can do what they please.

  A dozen other reasons passed through her as she tried to sit up in bed while holding the blanket around her.

  The Duke laughed to himself and shook his head. “I’m going to step outside, I’ll check on the coach and be back in a few minutes.”

  A deep fear coursed through her. She knew that if she began to speak she might very well never stop. Most assuredly she would say something that she would regret. Instead, all she could do was nod her head slowly.

  She watched, as the door closed slowly behind him and the latch slide into place.

  The deepest sense of loss passed through her. It truly was over, she realized. Their one moment together had ended. Life had returned to normal.

  Hurry Rebecca, she thought. He might return at any moment. Racing across the room, she felt her clothes. They were dry. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

  How long had she been asleep she wondered? Had he been watching her while she slept? Her cheeks grew warm again. She desperately wished she knew what he thought of their time together. What did he think of her?

  Dressing quickly, she bent to retrieve her shoes. Her heart fell at the sight of them. They had been her favorite pair. She had added the pearl beads herself.

  She had another pair in her baggage. Not as nice, not as special. But, these would have to do until she could retrieve them. She could purchase more in London.

  Would they continue on to London? she wondered? Or now, would he want to be away from her as fast as he could? Would they return to Pine Crest so that he could leave her there and then, go to London alone? Free from her.

  Don’t be silly, she told herself. You were the one who wanted no attachments. It was one time only, remember. Surely, a rake such as the Duke wouldn’t let something like this upset his plans.

  Rebecca sat there before the fire and waited. Her hands clasped in her lap. Her mind racing a thousand miles a minute as she tried to grasp how her world had changed.

  .o0o.

  The carriage was upright, and the wheelwright was finishing his work as Devlin approached. A dozen men stood off to the side. They’d obviously been enlisted to help right the coach.

  A short sense of loss passed through him. Secretly, he had hoped they had been unable to make the repairs, and he would be stuck in the farm house with Miss Jones for the night.

  Don’t, he reminded himself. Her reputation is at stake. Do not ruin her life because of your desires.

  He thought of the wa
y her hair had fallen across the pillow. How she smelled of lavender, roses, and all woman. The look of wonder in her eyes when they reached the peak.

  She was so unlike anyone he had ever known. She had no desire to use him. He was not her savior, not her benefactor. She didn’t want anything from him except to be with him.

  He smiled to himself when he thought about their conversation in the coach before the accident. Her intelligence was remarkable, he had always known that. But, there was more. Almost as if she thought herself his equal.

  The thought gave him pause.

  She was, he realized. One of the many reasons that he liked her so much.

  Her words came back to him. - One time. - No one must know. -She trusted him.

  A firm resolve passed through him. Nothing would ever be allowed to hurt her. He would do everything in his power to make sure of it.

  “Your Grace,” Tomas yelled when he saw the Duke approaching.

  “I see that you are almost finished. Well done,” Devlin said to the coachman.

  Tomas glanced at James and then, the wheelwright bent over the new coach wheel. “Sir, if I might,” the coachman said with a worried expression. Indicating that the Duke should follow him. The driver stepped to the ditch, just behind the coach.

  Devlin’s curiosity rose. Interesting. Something was amiss. Did the men know about Miss Jones and him? Were they upset at him for taking advantage of the governess?

  A sense of guilt washed over him. It was true, that was what he had done. He could have stopped it. He should have. But, the passion between them had burned too hot. He had lost control and taken what she offered.

  “Your Grace, I wanted to show you this,” the coachman said as he tipped the broken wagon wheel up to demonstrate something.

  Devlin’s brow narrowed in confusion. It appeared to be what you would expect. Several of the wooden spokes were broken. The rim warped where pressure had been applied when the heavy coach fell on it. What was the problem, he wondered?

  Tomas, seeing his confusion, said, “It is this, Your grace. Mr. Deavers, the wheelwright, is the one who noticed.” The coachmen pointed to the broken end of the axle protruding through the hub.

  Still, Devlin could not see the issue.

  “The axle, Your Grace. It didn’t break. It has been cut. At least partially. Someone sawed halfway through the axle. You can tell sir. It is as if someone wanted there to be an accident.”

  Tomas sounded relieved, Devlin thought. Obviously relieved that he was not at fault.

  Devlin bent down to examine the wood. The coachman was correct. You could definitely see the smooth cut halfway through the wood. The remaining part of the axle was splintered, but the first part cut. As smooth as a table top.

  His heart jumped into his throat. Another attempt on his life. Like London, like the fire, like the previous Duke.

  Immediately, he thought of Rebecca. She might have been hurt. An anger began to build inside of him. How dare they risk her life? If someone had an issue with him, that was one thing. But, to risk Rebecca?

  It was unacceptable.

  “I checked the coach yesterday morning sir. As soon as Mr. Scruggs told me you were going to London. I swear. It wasn’t there sir, not yesterday morning.”

  Gritting his teeth, Devlin nodded. “Very well, Tomas. Thank you. And Tomas, let us keep this to ourselves shall we? Inform James, no one but Scruggs is to be told of this.”

  Tomas’ brow narrowed in confusion. “Yes, of course, Your Grace.”

  Devlin studied the wheel again, searching for some clue, some reason. This wasn’t some distant antagonist. Only someone from Pine Crest would have access to his carriage.

  Shaking his head, he grimaced and informed Tomas that he would retrieve Miss Jones, and they could be on their way.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rebecca’s stomach tightened into a ball every time the coach swayed to the side. The memory of their accident would fly into her head with each corner and each bump.

  Folding her hands in her lap, she tried to not think about it. Instead, she tried to think of anything else. Of course, her mind immediately went to the man across from her.

  He continued to stare out the side window. His jaw set, his brow furrowed in concentration.

  Was he angry about something? Was he upset at her? He had barely said three words to her since returning to the farm house. The long walk back to the carriage had been a torturous silence.

  Why couldn’t he just tell her why he was upset? The prickly feeling between them was so opposite to the shared intimacy they had experienced only a short time ago.

  Everything was all wrong. It was enough to make a woman despise her life.

  She wanted a bath, she realized. Not a long carriage ride. Their shared moment had left her sore. The kind of bath where she could soak and ponder what had happened.

  Instead, she was stuck in this carriage with a wounded bear. He acted as if she were at fault somehow. As if she were some temptress that had led him astray.

  How dare he? Her anger continued to build. How dare he treat her as if this were her fault?

  “Your Grace,” she said before she could stop herself. “Is something wrong? Have I done something to upset you?”

  She hadn’t wanted to speak first. She hadn’t wanted to admit that his feelings concerned her. The anger continued to rise inside of her. Not only did he treat her as if it was all her fault. But, he didn’t even have the decency to admit it outright. He would make her pull it from him.

  For the first time, she was starting to regret their moment.

  No, she thought. Not really. The wonderfulness had been too much. But, she did regret how he was acting.

  The Duke turned from the window and looked at her. His eyes softened for a moment.

  “I am sorry, Miss Jones. No, it is not you. It will never be you. Something happened, and I am trying to deal with it in my mind.”

  The way he said the words - Miss Jones - sent a shaft of pain to her heart. Not Rebecca. Not the sweet endearment of – Sunshine -. They were back to Miss Jones.

  And, what did he mean, something happened? It had been much more than something. Couldn’t he see that? Was he blind? The man was such an insufferable oaf.

  He is a Duke, she reminded herself. Answerable to no one, but the King himself. Why should he concern himself with her worries, her fears?

  This awkwardness would continue, she realized. This bubble of pain and silence would follow them everywhere. It would contaminate every conversation.

  He would become tired and resentful she thought. It might even affect her continued employment.

  The Duke wouldn’t let her go because of their time together. But, he could very well grow to resent the awkwardness between them. Eventually, he would tire of it and either distance himself from her and the girls. Or, maybe even decide a change in governess would be best.

  The thought sent a cold chill down her spine.

  Dipping her head so that she would not see his reaction. She took a deep breath as she prepared herself for what must be said.

  “I am sorry, Your Grace, for what happened between us. I don’t know what came over me. Please, do not hold it against me. I assure you that it will never happen again.”

  There. That should set the matter right. Now they could move on.

  A deadly silence filled the carriage.

  Swallowing hard, she glanced up from under her brow to try and see what he was thinking.

  His eyes were narrowed in confusion. As if he hadn’t understood a word of what she was saying.

  Her anger threatened to rise up again, but she quickly pushed it back down. This was not the time, nor place, for him to learn what she really thought of him.

  The awkward tension between them continued to rise. As if a wall of separation were being put in place. Brick by brick.

  Please say something, she thought. Please.

  The silence became too much.

  “Your Grace …
”

  “Miss Jones,” the Duke interrupted, “I can assure you. That I do not hold our encounter against you. Never.”

  Rebecca looked into his eyes. He was telling the truth, she realized. Her insides stopped churning. A strong feminine pride washed through her. He hadn’t been disappointed. He had been pleased with her.

  She hugged that feeling to herself, but refused to let him stop talking. Raising an eyebrow, she begged him to continue.

  “In all honesty,” the Duke said with a sigh, “my mind was taken by other events. I am sorry. I realize that was neither gallant nor honorable. Rest assured, I am not upset with you. I couldn’t be. No man could be upset with you. My only regret is, that, as per your desire, it will be a onetime occurrence.”

  Rebecca’s shoulders slumped in relief. He smiled at her, and she thought of her words to him in the farmhouse. It must be a onetime thing. She could not become his mistress. A temporary play thing. She had too much pride to ever let something like that happen. Besides, she would not risk the girls’ reputation that way.

  The Duke returned to staring out the window with that pensive look again. Her insides relaxed, but then, she began to wonder. What was so important that he could forget about their time together so quickly?

  “Then, what is bothering you, Your Grace? It is obviously something of importance. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  He turned back to her and once again smiled.

  “That is so typical of you Miss Jones. You see someone in need and instantly think to help them.”

  “It is our Christian duty, Your Grace,” she said. Fighting to keep the blush from her cheeks at his compliment.

  “Maybe,” the Duke said. “Most people, though, think of themselves first.” He paused for a moment, then said, “I know I do. It is something I must work on.”

  “I don’t know, Your Grace,” Rebecca said. “You have gone out of your way to put your wards’ needs ahead of your own desires. I have seen the way you deal with your servants and the tenants. You are obviously concerned with their well-being. I think you have done admirably, Sir.”