“Are you?” she asked as she glanced decidedly at Madeline. He didn’t follow her gaze. He didn’t have to. Besides, looking at Madeline would only muddle his thoughts.
He took a different approach. Leaning down, he said softly, “I thought you understood the arrangement. There is no room for such worry or jealousy between people like us.”
She arched a brow and leaned back, her thin lips pursing until they disappeared. “Even when your soon-to-be lover looks at another woman as though she were dessert?”
Inwardly, he winced. No wonder both Devon and Lady Crumwell looked so put out. Was that what he’d done? “I highly doubt that. I’m about to sit down to a feast and may be too full for any kind of sweet treats later. Wouldn’t you agree, Harriet?”
Lady Crumwell let out a trill of laughter that lightened her features, but the noise was far too long and loud for the intimate conversation. “That’s more like it.” Then she stepped closer, her perfume assaulting his nostrils. The scent was sickeningly sweet and far too abundant. “I don’t fancy a dance just now. I’d much rather take a turn about the garden.”
He kept his face blank but inside he cringed. Lady Crumwell had been right to worry. He’d lost his appetite for her. Damn that little siren. Lady Madeline had just ruined what would have been a lovely affair. But somehow, touching Madeline had killed any desire he’d had for Harriet or any other woman in sight. “Of course,” he murmured, tucking Harriet’s hand into his arm while he held in a sigh. He’d have to tell her that he’d changed his mind, but he’d wait until they were alone.
* * *
Maddie watched Lord Kingsley and Lady Crumwell head toward the patio door and tried not to frown. She was fairly certain she failed in disguising the look. Lady Crumwell was pressed to the man’s side in an indecent way. Which irrationally irritated Maddie. Her body still tingled from the man’s touch, his warm brown eyes had looked into hers and seen completely through her to her very soul. Ridiculous, she knew. The man was a well-known rake. How different was he from the selfish lads who she’d successfully avoided for six seasons?
Still, he’d taken in many a woman with those eyes. His square jaw and broad shoulders didn’t hurt either. Of course, the fullness of his lips and the careless sweep of his dark blond hair only added to his appeal. She pressed her hands to her stomach as they disappeared into the crowd.
Staring at the spot where he’d left her view, she shivered remembering the feel of his body pressed to hers, his hands at her waist. His large strong hands, which had wrapped around her back, warm and confident.
“Stop looking at him,” Bar growled next to her, nudging her elbow.
Her gaze snapped away even as her nose lifted into the air. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Bar snorted. “The man has not courted an eligible lady in a decade. Not since Lady Caroline Bixby.”
Maddie’s brow furrowed. That name sounded familiar. Who was Caroline Bixby and why did she have the distinct honor of being the last lady he’d honorably pursued? “He looks like he’s courting a lady right now.”
“No.” Bar leaned closer. “What he does isn’t courting.”
Madeline didn’t need Bar to explain. One could not participate in as many seasons as she had and not learn some of the particulars of what happened between men and women. She’d glimpsed more than one tryst behind a fern in a conservatory or a bush in the garden. And of course, she knew of Lord Kingsley’s reputation. He was only seen with women of experience, and only for a short time. “Fear not, brother. He has a type. I’m not it.”
Harry stepped up onto her other side. “Are we talking about the ape that just had his hands all over you?”
“Maddie says she isn’t his type,” Bar’s voice dropped low as he crossed his hands over his chest.
Harry’s face twisted. “You’re everyone’s type. There isn’t a man in London who doesn’t harbor a crush on you.”
“I beg you stop.” She turned and stepped back. “My dowry is what they want most.”
Bar cocked a brow. “I won’t lie, I’m sure it helps. But Maddie, you’re bloody beautiful, funny, and smart.” He said the word with a sigh as though it were a problem and not a solution.
She managed not to roll her eyes by fisting her hands in her skirt. “You’re related to me. You have to say that.” Then she took another step back, inching away from her brothers. She needed a moment to collect herself. She should be thinking about Charles. It was nearly midnight.
“My relationship to you has nothing to do with what I just said. In fact, if you were less attractive, Harry and I would have an easier go at chaperoning you.”
She barely heard her brother as she took another step back. Maddie needed to clear her head. “I just need to use the powder room. Would you excuse me for a moment?”
Bar gave her a confused look. “Now?”
If he found out what she was doing, Bar was going to be furious with her. She knew that. But she needed to stop thinking about Kingsley, so she turned and fled.
“Maddie,” Bar called from behind her, his voice nearly lost in the music and conversation.
She knew she’d get into trouble for rushing away. Maddie had carefully crafted a plan to convince a dance partner to take her onto the veranda. She’d slip away from him to find the rose garden, but her run-in with Kingsley had prevented the whole sequence from happening. Now, she’d been forced to run off and it was only a matter of time before a member of her family followed her.
She’d worry about that later. Right now, she had an illicit midnight meeting she needed to find.
Making it out through the open door, she skirted the crowd assembled on the candlelit veranda and headed for a dark path off to one side.
It was near pitch black and decidedly quiet as she realized several flaws in her plan. The candles in this part of the garden were few and far between. How was she going to find the rose bushes? By smell? That could take all night.
Rustling and moaning from the bushes made her stop short. This was a terrible idea.
Drawing in a deep breath, she turned back and headed toward the only lantern she’d seen along the path. A dark shadow cast across its light, throwing her in shadow once again. “Lady Madeline?” A deep baritone whispered in the dark.
“How did you know?” she asked breathlessly.
“Your dress, my lady,” he replied.
Of course, she’d told him she’d wear this shade of blue.
The man was tall and broad, she could tell that even in the dim light. Strong shoulders were accentuated by a tapered waist or was that her imagination? Her breath caught. Had she reached the rose garden without realizing? It was certainly dark enough and clearly a spot for a tryst. And here was a man waiting for her. It had to be him, her Charles. “Yes. It’s you, isn’t it? You’re—” She stepped closer, then, excitement rippling through her but her words ceased as his thumb brushed her lips. Tingling spread from his touch all through her body.
He grasped her waist with his other hand. “It’s me.” He was slowly drawing her closer. Any fear she might have had evaporated. There was something so familiar about the deep timber of his voice, as though she’d heard it before. This was not a desperate man but a confident one, strong and sure of himself. He was everything she’d dreamed he’d be.
Without thought, she rested her hands on his chest, her fingers sliding along the rigged muscles underneath her grasp. “I knew we had a connection.”
“We did,” he replied, his head dropping so that his lips were close to hers. He smelled of cigar, liquor, and the subtle musk of man that made her ache in the strangest way. It was delicious and just a touch sinful. Then he closed the gap between them, his lips just a breath from hers. “It’s a pity we can’t share more than this.”
Can’t share more? Maddie’s lips parted to ask the question even as his mouth touched hers. Then the words disappeared as he kissed her lips closed.
They were strong yet soft and a tin
gling ricocheted straight through her stomach to her core. She’d been right, earlier. Life would never be the same after tonight.
Chapter Three
Adam knew he’d made a mistake. A very large, terribly soft, incredibly alluring error in judgment that was going to cost him a great deal. He had no idea what the price was yet, but he’d find out soon enough.
His mistake? One tiny brush of the lips with the Siren of London.
When she’d stepped willingly into his arms, he’d told himself he’d just take one taste. What was the point of being a notorious rake if one didn’t take advantage of these types of opportunities?
But he should have realized the flaw in his logic. She tasted even better than she felt, like honey and lemon with a hint of spice.
And the feel of her. In this dark and quiet place, her body pressed completely to his, she fit against him in yielding perfection and his masculine need roared to the surface.
Nor could he do with just one little taste. He dipped his head down again, brushing his lips to hers for a second time and then a third. On the fourth pass, he lingered a little longer. The fifth was a press of lips but it still didn’t fill his need. In fact, her taste only made him want more, his desire amplifying with every sip of her intoxicating nectar.
She slid her fingers up his chest, tracing his collarbone before slipping them around his neck. The brush of her hand only tightened the coil that was taut with tension inside him and he made a noise deep in his throat.
He was losing rational thought. A desire to have this woman took over every corner of his mind, pushing away all the reasons he’d carefully built to keep women like her out.
“Charles,” she murmured against his lips before she kissed him again.
“Charles?” His head jerked back as he stared down at her. Which was useless. The dark hid her expression, but it did not disguise the stiffening of her body. A rumble of protest reverberated in his chest. He wanted her soft yielding body pressed to his. It brought out all things male in him.
“Who are…what are you…you’re not Charles?” She motioned to step back, but he held her waist firm even as she touched his chest and pushed against him.
“Much as I would like to say yes, I am afraid I’m not the man you thought me to be.” He slowly released her, realizing he couldn’t hold her any longer without frightening her.
Her hands remained on his chest and he realized she’d stopped pushing away and was instead fisting his shirt in her hands. “Who are you then?”
“I’m…” Feet crunched on the dirt path behind him.
“Madeline,” a deep voice ground out. “Where are you?”
“Bar,” she whispered stepping closer to him. Adam decided he’d not waste such an opportunity and he grabbed her waist again, pulling her close.
She was once again pressed to his trunk, her body soft against his, her breath coming in short gasps.
He started to pull her from the path, the need to keep her close making his muscles coil with unused energy. He couldn’t reason out the why of the action. Was he protecting her? Stealing her away? The action was instinctual as his mind desperately attempted to catch up.
“Don’t,” she replied, planting her slippers in the dirt. “You should go, whoever you are. If you don’t the banns will be posted by morning.”
Christ, that was like a bucket of cold water being dumped on his head. Much as he wanted more of her, he did not under any circumstances intend to become engaged. “Thank you for that,” he said and then dipped down and brushed his lips to her cheek. “I shall never forget that kiss.”
She stepped away from him then, her voice soft in the dark. “Neither will I.”
* * *
She’d made several silly mistakes this evening, making it difficult to find out which might have been the most costly.
As Bar appeared in front of her, she didn’t need to see his face to know he was livid. Her brother rarely lost his temper, but she suspected it was about to happen. Apprehension trickled down her spine.
“What the bloody hell do you think you are doing?” He was next to her in an instant. “Do you know what might have happened if you’d been caught unchaperoned in the garden?”
Her spine straightened as indignation came out in a huff. “Some of the lords who only care about father’s connections would have been weeded out?”
He gave her a tiny shake and then abruptly let her go, his hands covering his face. “I didn’t mean to do that.” Then he dropped his hands.
Guilt zinged through Madeline. Her brother had taken on the weight of the dukedom, he didn’t need her adding to his concerns. “The fault was mine. I just needed to escape and…” She stopped, not wanting to lie. She’d wanted to have an illicit meeting in the garden. Mission accomplished. It just happened to be with the wrong man.
“Let’s leave. No one will know what’s happened and you can have your time alone.”
Madeline nodded. She was unlikely to make it to the garden now and besides what would she say to Charles, whoever he was? She’d kissed another man when she’d mistaken his identity. This would have been so much simpler if Charles had introduced himself as she’d asked.
Now she was in heaps of trouble with a stranger.
Her thoughts didn’t stop turning as they made their way to the carriage, straight from the back gate. Her brother left her to fetch Emily and Harry, and sitting alone, her thoughts continued to swirl.
Much as Charles intrigued her, he’d also left her exposed. She’d been wandering a dark garden alone. She’d been kissed by a man who must be a rake, why else would he have accepted her mistake so easily?
Charles, if he truly were a suitor, should have protected her.
She sagged back against the seat. What was the matter with her? She’d risked everything for a man she’d never even met. Closing her eyes, she mulled over her current batch of suitors. Perhaps her brothers were right. Maybe she should pick one and be done with it. Tonight made her realize she was moving closer and closer to disaster.
A faint knock came on the side of the carriage causing her to sit up in her seat. “Hello?” a voice whispered through the window.
Maddie blinked. Any louder and the driver would hear. “Yes?”
“It’s me,” the voice called. “Charles.”
Charles? She covered her mouth with her hands. Unlike in the garden however, there was no breathless excitement. No thrill, only a vague disappointment. First off, his voice was wrong. Not the deep baritone of her mystery kisser but a much higher tenor. “You have to go. My brother will return any moment.”
“Go?” he whispered, a trace of annoyance in his voice. “You didn’t make it to our meeting.”
She winced. “I do apologize. I tried. But—”
Maddie heard him huff his breath, which was decidedly feminine in nature. “You seemed to do all right. I saw you, you know. In his arms.”
Surprise jolted down her body, making her sit up. How did he know who she was? Did Charles know who had delivered that future altering kiss? “Whose arms?”
“Don’t play coy with me. I should have known that the Siren of London would not be true to me.” His voice had grown louder, the edge of it tinged with bitterness. “I thought by your letters that you wanted more from me than just my editorial skills.”
“I did,” she said then realized the implication of using the past tense. “I do.” She could step out of the carriage and stand face to face with Charles right now. See for herself if this was a man she wished to be with. But something stopped her.
The driver bellowed out, “Who goes there?”
Charles didn’t answer, but Maddie heard the distinct crunch of gravel as he fled.
Popping her head out, she tried to catch a glimpse of him even as a perspiration broke out all along her skin. The situation was growing worse by the second. Not only had any hopes she’d had about her admirer shriveled to nothing, but he’d witnessed her in a compromising situation with another m
an. And he knew who she was and all that she’d written.
“My lady, back in the carriage.” Her driver pulled a pistol from his belt as he hopped down from the seat. “I’ll take care of any miscreants.”
“Mr. Tully, it’s all right. I recognized the voice. It was a gentleman from the party.”
Mr. Tully shook his head. “Close the door, my lady. Gentleman or no, it isn’t proper to have him about the carriage like this.”
She did as was bid. Maddie had broken enough rules for one evening.
What a mess she’d landed herself in. Worse yet, she feared she might have to confess all of it to her brother, Bar. Her stomach twisted painfully. This was not a situation he was likely to understand.
Chapter Four
Three nights had passed since Adam had kissed that little temptress in the garden and she had well and truly climbed beneath the surface of his skin.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her taste, the feel of her body haunted his dreams, filled his waking thoughts.
He’d rarely been so smitten and certainly not after a single small kiss. Not since her, anyhow.
Lady Caroline Bixby, well now she was Lady Stonewall, had been the only woman he’d ever loved. Also the daughter of a duke, she’d held London’s gentlemen in a vice-like grip, with her beauty and charm. Bloody hell, he really had been a fool at the time.
He’d been one of her scores of admirers, and he’d taken great pains to treat her with every respect a woman of her breeding deserved. She’d repaid his attentiveness with betrayal.
He sat staring into the fire in his drawing room, sipping on a cordial of brandy. He didn’t even wish to go out. He’d tried the night before. He’d gone to his club to play cards and drink, but the crowd had only irritated him further.
This was why he stayed away from respectable ladies. Otherwise he might be tempted into drastic measures. The daughter of a duke was not a woman to be trifled with. Were he caught compromising her—though she had started the compromising—he only had three choices, run from England, death, or marriage. He tried to decide which was the worst choice or why these hadn’t occurred to him before he’d gone and kissed her. He wouldn’t be a woman’s fool again and certainly not the fool of the Siren of London.
Taming a Wicked Rake (Taming the Duke's Heart Book 9) Page 2