The Ton's Most Notorious Rake

by Sarah Mallory

  She drew in a long breath. ‘My body is crying out for you, Russ.’ She pushed herself away, trying to read his face in the shadows. ‘Do you deny that you want me?’

  ‘No, of course, I do not deny it.’ He looked up at the sky and sighed. ‘I have no constancy, Molly. I have had many mistresses, but my interest rarely lasts more than a month. Such fleeting lust would destroy you. You deserve a steady, faithful husband, not someone like me. You know what I am.’

  ‘Yes.’ She buried her face in his shoulder. ‘You are a rake. You have a reputation as a lover and...and I am ready to endure—’

  ‘What is this?’ He took her arms and held her away from him, frowning. ‘Endure? Molly, I am talking of pleasure, not pain.’

  She averted her face and said quietly, ‘I believe men experience these things differently.’

  ‘You are wrong. The women I have taken to bed enjoyed it every bit as much as I.’

  ‘Perhaps I am made differently.’

  He said savagely, ‘I do not believe that.’ He put one hand beneath her chin, compelling her to look up at him. ‘If you have not enjoyed lovemaking, then the man was at fault, Molly, not you.’

  He felt a wave of anger growing against whoever it was who had hurt her so badly.

  She sighed. ‘I thought you wanted me.’

  ‘I do.’ Russ closed his eyes. She must never know how much he wanted her! He said gently, ‘I do, Molly, but I would not take another man’s prize.’

  ‘Prize!’ With a cry she tore herself away from him. ‘I am no prize,’ she said bitterly. ‘I am just a...a thing, to be used and—and broken for a man’s pleasure.’

  His anger boiled over into a red rage that manifested in a growl.

  ‘Aye, you told me! You were seduced by some blackguard who took your innocence and abandoned you—’

  She had her back to him, but he saw her hand come up as if to silence him.

  ‘I was not talking of that,’ she whispered, dragging out her handkerchief to wipe her eyes. ‘It was far, far worse than that.’

  Russ stopped himself from reaching out for her. He should say something soothing, let it pass. Tomorrow he could leave Compton Parva and go back to London, to his old, carefree life and she would remain only a faint, pleasant memory. But looking at the small, dejected figure in front of him, he knew it was already too late. He put his hands on her shoulders and guided her towards the far end of the terrace, away from the open windows.

  ‘Tell me,’ he said, sitting down on a stone bench and pulling her down beside him. ‘Tell me what happened.’

  For a while there was only the muted sounds from the ballroom and the occasional call of a night bird to break the silence. Then he heard her sigh.

  ‘Niall was a rogue,’ she said slowly, dragging her handkerchief between her fingers. ‘A handsome, Irish rogue with a smooth tongue and a roving eye. I was seventeen and so in love that I desperately wanted to please him. I will not lie, I wanted it, too. I wanted to give myself to him, wholly. But when it happened it was rushed and painful and...disappointing. It was only the once, then he was gone, my Irish soldier. He left before he even knew he had got me with child.

  ‘My parents were horrified when they discovered my situation. They found me a husband, or more accurately, they bought me a husband. Morgan was a yeoman farmer, not a gentleman, but then, I suppose they were thankful to find anyone to marry me. I insisted Morgan should be told about the baby. He swore it would make no difference to the way he felt about me. That he loved me. Love!’ She shuddered. ‘I experienced no love at his hands. He t-took me for his pleasure. It was brutish and punishing. To him I was an undeserving slattern who should be grateful that he had married me and saved my good name. It was worse when he had been drinking, because if he could not... If he could not p-perform, he would beat me. I always tried to stay on my feet, because—’ her hands crept over her stomach and her voice was barely a thread ‘—it was a kick that killed the baby. My baby.’

  Silently Russ took her in his arms, and she turned her face into his shoulder, weeping. There was nothing he could say to make it better, so he rested his cheek against her head and held her. At last the tears subsided. When she struggled to sit up he released her, but she did not object when he kept one arm about her shoulders. She wiped her eyes and began to speak again.

  ‘Morgan never knew what he had done. He died in a drunken brawl the night after that last beating. I was very near my time and everyone thought it was the shock of Morgan’s death that made the baby come early, but I knew the truth. I could not bear to go back to my parents, they had already made it clear they considered that losing the baby was a...a judgement upon me for my sins. As soon as I was well enough I sold the farm and came north to live with Edwin. I used Morgan’s money to set up Prospect House and tried to forget my old life. The bruises have healed, but I have never been able to throw off the repulsion of being married to such a man.’

  She fell silent and he gave voice to the question that had been nagging at him.

  ‘And yet you offered yourself to me, to save your friend?’

  She gave a little shrug. ‘Having endured a man’s attentions in bed before, I thought I could do so again, if I must.’ She hung her head. ‘I thought I could do so, if it was with you.’

  With a sigh he pulled her into his arms. ‘How could you even think of making such a sacrifice?’

  She turned her face into his chest, muffling her response. ‘I have made a mull of everything. I am such a fool.’

  ‘Yes, you are fool,’ he agreed, resting his cheek against her hair again. Even in the chill of an autumn evening she smelled of summer flowers. ‘But a very adorable one.’

  ‘It is kind of you to say so,’ she said. ‘And very generous, but I think I should go now.’

  She pushed herself out of his arms, but he held on to her hand. ‘Are you engaged for any other dances this evening?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Then come with me. By my reckoning we have at least two hours.’

  ‘For what?’

  He smiled. ‘Come with me.’

  He led her down the steps and around the house to a side door. It opened on to one of the servants’ halls and, as he had hoped, it was deserted. They climbed the stairs, guided by the lighted lanterns that hung at intervals from the bare walls. He uttered up a silent prayer when they reached his bedchamber without seeing anyone. Once they were inside he turned the key in the lock. Molly’s fingers tightened nervously around his.

  ‘My man is the soul of discretion,’ he explained, ‘but I do not want anyone to disturb us.’

  He took a taper to the small fire burning in the hearth. Soon the room was bathed in the soft, golden glow of candles. He turned. Molly had not moved from where he had left her, by the door. He shrugged himself out of his evening coat and threw it over a chair, then he held out his hands to her.

  ‘Will you trust me not to hurt you?’

  Slowly she walked towards him and gave him her hands. He drew her into his arms and kissed her gently. She was tense, nervous and he made no move to deepen the kiss until she relaxed against him. He would not rush her, she was as nervous as a colt, but slowly she began to respond. Her arms slipped around his neck and her tongue tangled with his, stirring his blood. Without breaking the kiss he lifted her and carried her across to the bed.

  She drew away from him in alarm as he laid her on the covers and he murmured again, ‘Trust me.’

  Even in the shadows of the bed’s canopy he could see her eyes were wide and anxious. He waited, making no move to join her until she reached for him. Russ measured his length against hers, cupping her face and gently kissing her lips before placing soft, butterfly kisses across her cheek and over her jaw. Her head went back, inviting him to trail his lips along the length of her throat. He paused to give particular attention to the little dip bet
ween the collarbones and she sighed. His hand cupped her breast and she pushed against his fingers. Even through the silk and silver net, he could feel the nub harden as he caressed her. With practised ease he slipped his hand inside the bodice. She flinched and he paused, raising his head to gaze down at her.

  ‘You only have to tell me and I will stop,’ he whispered. ‘I will do nothing against your will. You have my word.’

  The look in her eyes and her tremulous smile made his soul soar and he bent his head to kiss her again, long and deeply, while his fingers caressed the cushioned roundness of her breast. Then he shifted his position, eased the breast from its silky wrapping and took the hardened peak in his mouth while his fingers moved across to work their magic on its twin. She began to stir restlessly, her hands moving over his shoulders, plucking at his shirt. He raised his head and shifted until he was kneeling beside her. His breath caught at the sight of her breasts, unconfined and wantonly displayed, but he must not be distracted from his purpose. Gently he gathered her skirts, uncovering the dainty ankles and silk stockings, fastened at the knee with lacy garters. He shifted again, positioning himself between her legs and bending to kiss her mouth once more.

  This time when he raised his head she reached for him, gripping his shirt to pull him back for more, but he resisted. Gently easing her hands away, he slid down the bed and began to kiss her leg, just above the knee. She tensed, but made no protest, so he continued to caress her, his lips moving upwards across the soft inner thigh.

  * * *

  Molly closed her eyes and gave herself up to the sensations that were flooding through her. Her very bones felt like liquid, soft and pliant. Russ’s gentle hands had taken control of her body, easing her apart so that his mouth, his tongue could smooth over the tender skin of her thigh, moving ever closer towards her aching core. She whimpered, but she did not pull away, instead she was arching, inviting him.

  He shifted again, his hands slid beneath her hips and held her firm while his mouth finally reached the hinge of her thighs and his tongue licked and flickered with unerring precision. She felt the pressure building, rippling through her, and she tried to move away from the sweet, delicious torture but she was his prisoner. A very willing prisoner, was her last coherent thought as her body convulsed in white-hot spasms of unbearable ecstasy. She was flying, higher, higher, until her world splintered and she cried out in sheer joy as her body shuddered and she felt herself falling, tumbling from heaven into oblivion.

  Russ was cradling her in his arms as consciousness returned. She raised a hand to touch his cheek.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

  ‘It is for you, Molly. To show you how wonderful it can be.’

  Her scent was on his lips as he kissed her. His hand slipped once more to her breast and she felt her body waking again beneath his touch. She gave herself up to the pleasure of it as he used his hands and his mouth to bring her again and again to the edge of climax and beyond. Until she collapsed against him, sated and exhausted.

  She allowed herself a few moments’ recovery, then her hand slid over his chest and down towards the buttoned flap of his breeches. His body reacted to her touch, but he caught her fingers.

  ‘There is no need,’ he murmured, his breath warm against her cheek. ‘Tonight is about your pleasure, Molly.’

  ‘And it would please me to satisfy you,’ she replied, moving closer and unfastening the flap. He was already hard and aroused as her fingers pushed aside the cloth to release his erection. He had been denying himself while he attended to her needs, but now she returned the favour eagerly, revelling in her power over him as she kissed, caressed and stroked him until he caught her hands, pushing down as he reached his own satisfying release.

  They lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, their bodies resting from the onslaught, but at last Russ stirred.

  ‘I would like to keep you with me all night, but we must return. There is such a crush in the ballroom that I doubt our absence has been noted, but just in case, we must get you into the ladies’ retiring room, and I will return via the terrace.’ He sat up. ‘We must protect your reputation.’

  He helped her from the bed, and straightened his clothes while she shook out her skirts.

  ‘Ah, yes, my reputation.’

  He watched as she went across to the looking glass, checking that her bodice was once more decorously arranged and tidying her curls.

  ‘I have no wish to ruin you, Molly.’

  ‘I am aware of that.’

  When she turned back to him it seemed the most natural thing in the world to open his arms to her and equally natural for her to walk into them. She rested her head on his shoulder and he heard her sigh.

  ‘I am most truly grateful to you for this, Russ. It has been wonderful. A revelation. But you may be easy. I shall not pursue you to do this again.’

  Her words, so matter-of-fact, so understanding, hit him like a body blow. He had known from the start it must only be for one night but now he discovered that he did not want to let her go. He wanted her in his bed, to make love to her night after night. To consummate their union. But Molly Morgan would never consent to be his mistress and he would never ask it of her. The only solution would be marriage.

  No! Russ shied away from the thought in panic. He was a confirmed bachelor. What he had seen of marriage had given him an aversion to that state. His stepmother and his sister-in-law were both grasping, selfish women, hell-bent on sucking a man dry of his fortune and his energies. He knew Molly was nothing like that, but her goodness frightened him even more. He had never loved anyone in his life and he doubted if he could remain faithful.

  He said now, ‘You need a good man for your husband, Molly. A man who will treat you as you deserve, one who loves you. What you do not need is a hardened libertine who will be bored with you within a month.’

  She moved out of his arms and looked at him, perplexed.

  ‘I never expected you to love me Russ,’ she said. ‘Neither did I expect you to marry me.’

  ‘How could I?’ He barely heard her, for he was desperately trying to convince himself as much as Molly that marriage was out of the question. ‘I am not made for domestic felicity, Molly, nor do I want a clinging wife. And you, with your provincial morals and good deeds, would be the very worst partner for me. It would destroy you, my dear, and I do not want to do that.’

  * * *

  Molly listened with increasing dismay. Did he not believe her? Perhaps he thought she was trying to shame him into making her an offer, but nothing could be further from the truth. What they had just shared had been quite, quite wonderful and she was angry that he should now sully it with this unwarranted attack. Her head came up.

  ‘You have made yourself very clear, sir. Now, let me be equally so. I never came here looking for a husband and I agree that your rakehell ways would never be acceptable to someone with my...my provincial morals. I am only sorry that you believe I would even contemplate such a union.’ She gave her skirts one final shake and walked towards the door. ‘My only concern now is to return to the ballroom without causing a scandal!’

  * * *

  Molly gained the safety of the retiring room without being seen by any of Newlands’s servants or guests. She could only hope that the attendant there would put her flushed cheeks and tousled appearance down to the lively dancing. She stayed there as long as she dared before making her way into the ballroom. Another country dance was in progress and the room buzzed with happy chatter, voices raised to make themselves heard above the music. Molly looked around. Serena was dancing, but Edwin was standing with Agnes and Sir Gerald at the side of the room. Molly made her way over to them, more than a little afraid they would ask her to explain her absence. Edwin saw her approaching and held his hand out to her.

  ‘Molly, do come and join us. I looked for you earlier, for I wanted you to be the first to
know, but somehow things got a little out of hand.’ He flushed and looked a little conscious. ‘Almost everyone here seems to know it now—have you heard? Agnes has agreed to be my wife!’

  Molly did not need to feign her delight. She kissed Agnes and then Edwin before turning to Sir Gerald to express the hope that he was happy at the news.

  ‘Overjoyed, ma’am,’ he replied, his open, cheerful countenance suffused in a beaming smile. ‘Agnes mentioned it to me shortly after supper and from that moment word spread like wildfire. By the time the musicians struck up for the boulanger, everyone seemed to know of it!’

  ‘And to approve, thankfully,’ added Edwin. ‘Lady Currick is already talking of a party, to celebrate our betrothal.’

  ‘At the King’s Head,’ put in Agnes, ‘so that everyone in the town may come and celebrate it.’ She touched Molly’s arm. ‘I know this is very sudden, Molly. Are you sure you do not object?’

  ‘Not at all,’ she said, smiling. ‘You are made for one another and you, Agnes, will be the perfect vicar’s wife, I am sure.’

  ‘I am so glad you approve,’ said Agnes, slipping her arm through Molly’s. ‘And you will live with us,’ she continued. ‘Edwin and I are agreed that you should continue to make your home at the vicarage.’

  ‘That is very kind, but I intend to set up my own establishment.’ Molly added, with perfect sincerity, ‘I have been feeling restless for some time now, so perhaps I shall begin by going away for a short holiday.’

  Somewhere far away, where she might reflect on all that had happened and dispel the nagging ache that had settled itself around her heart.

  ‘Yes, but not until after the wedding,’ said Edwin quickly. ‘You will be needed to help with all the arrangements.’

  Gerald laughed. ‘I said as much to Russ just now. He was all for leaving Newlands in the next few days, but I told him I expect him to support me, especially at the betrothal party which Lady Currick hopes to arrange for a week tomorrow. There is no way I shall allow him to abandon me before that!’