How To Marry a Rake

by Deb Marlowe

‘Some day I’m going to walk out the front door with you on my arm, like a normal suitor,’ he said.

  ‘Suitor?’ she sniffed. ‘We have yet to see about that.’

  Through the back garden he carried her, across the alley and into the cobbled yard of the mews. The largest door was closed, but he’d left the smaller, inset door open a crack. He kicked it in and carried her inside.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ she asked, looking about.

  ‘I gave them the afternoon off.’

  ‘Stephen!’ she gasped. ‘They are not even your staff!’

  He raised a brow at her. ‘Out of all of this, that is the part that shocks you?’ He shook his head. ‘Well, perhaps I can do better.’ He heaved and tossed her over his shoulder, head down and bottom up.

  ‘That’s enough of this now!’ she protested. ‘I want to know what is going on!’

  He grunted as he started up the ladder to the loft over the tack room. ‘I told you. I finally worked it out. For a time I couldn’t think, what with all the flirting and kissing, horse stealing and husband hunting. It took me a while, but I finally understand.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that.’ Even upside down she oozed sarcasm.

  He climbed higher. ‘I took a leaf out of your book and started up a scheme of my own.’ They were at the top now. He set her down and turned her to look.

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘It’s small, but cosy.’ He’d transformed the utilitarian space, draping it with fine linen, covering it with fresh hay, flowers, piles of the softest blankets and well-stuffed pillows. ‘It seems fitting that we do this in a place like this, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Do this?’ There was still a bit of resentment in her. ‘Do what?’

  ‘I did finally come to my senses, Mae. I realised any number of truths, one of which was that it was important that I make the choice for myself. That’s what this is all about.’

  He stepped in front of her and took her hands. ‘I choose you, Mae. I can’t live alone, cut off from everyone any more. I can’t live without you—every challenging, exasperating and wonderful thing about you.’ He looked sternly down at her. ‘So I am going to finish what I started back in that barn in Suffolk.’

  He pulled her close and nuzzled her. ‘That’s the first bit of my grand scheme. I am going to seduce you, soft and slow and sweet.’ He whispered it in her ear. ‘And then I am going to marry you.’ He buried his face in the warm and fragrant curve of her neck. ‘And then I am going to spend the rest of my life making you happy.’

  The last came out slightly muffled. He pulled back. ‘I know I cannot hold a candle to you, when it comes to intrigue, but I thought it a sound plan. What do you think?’

  She pulled away from him, raised her hands in a helpless gesture. ‘I say it’s lovely—but it’s not enough. What’s changed, Stephen? What is different from a fortnight ago?’ She swallowed. ‘What about your people at Fincote?’

  ‘My people?’ He blinked at her, filled with a sudden sense of wonder. ‘Do you know, I’ve never phrased it that way before. My people. They’ve always been Fincote’s people, even in my head.’

  He shook his head to clear it. ‘That’s the funny thing, Mae. My people, they’re happy.’ He scrubbed a hand against his brow. ‘At first, I couldn’t countenance it. I came home with no Pratchett. No spectacular début race. We’ve got a respectable match, to be sure, thanks to your father and Lord Toswick, but it wasn’t what we had planned for. I thought that they must be disappointed. But they are not.’

  He dropped his hand. ‘All this time, I thought the choice had to be between my happiness and theirs—but they’ve been happy all along.’

  Her mouth formed a circle of surprise and he shrugged. ‘I left them, busy and content. I finally realised that they didn’t need the spectacle and the drama—they just needed a purpose, something to work towards. The knowledge that someone cared, and was looking out for the future.’

  Her eyes brimmed with tears and sudden understanding. ‘All they needed was you.’

  Solemn, he nodded. ‘It scared me spitless. How can I be responsible for their happiness? I’ve never even had the courage to be responsible for my own.’

  She made a sound of protest.

  ‘It’s true—and it started at Fincote, with my mother.’ He sighed. ‘That’s the story I meant to tell you. I need to tell you.’ He looked closely at her. ‘Will you listen?’

  She bit her lip. Nodded.

  Stephen breathed deep and forged ahead. ‘When I was a boy, I used to pretend that my mother was a sad princess, locked in a tower. Just like in the old stories.’

  He shifted. ‘There was a problem with this pretend, though. If she truly were a princess in a story, then surely she would fight off her melancholy, find a way to a happy ending. At the very least, she would have kept the sadness at bay long enough to enjoy the visits of her sons, wouldn’t she?’

  Clearly she didn’t know what to say.

  ‘But she did not. Or could not. I was so angry, Mae.’ He had to pause a moment. ‘Except that I didn’t know what to do with it. How could I be angry with her? Neither was it easy to be angry with my father, who had brought on all of this sadness. So it all simmered, and I was left to watch helplessly while my mother faded away from the world. Eventually she was forgotten. Every time I visited, she grew quieter and more alone. Though I might be standing in the same room with her, still she was alone. Gradually the anger and helplessness mixed and spawned fear. I was afraid for her, but also for myself.’

  She moved closer and he welcomed her into his arms. Her warmth made it easier to continue. ‘I grew afraid that I would begin to disappear too. Fade away into nothingness, like her. Even when I returned to Welbourne Manor, with all the children and chaos and love, I was still afraid. I thought I might get lost in the crowd, and that would be the beginning of it.’ He tightened his grip on her. ‘I began to do everything I could to make myself stand out. I was loud and mischievous and I learned to make people laugh.’ He allowed some of the self-recrimination he felt to leak into his voice. ‘It didn’t matter that the attention I received might be negative, it made me feel safe.’

  ‘You were just a boy,’ she protested.

  ‘Yes, and the pattern was set—and so was the ugly truth hiding behind it. I was afraid of fading away. Worse—I was afraid that the reason my mother couldn’t see me or love me, was my own fault. That I wasn’t worth loving.’

  ‘Oh, Stephen,’ she breathed out a sob. ‘So many burdens for such a little boy.’

  But he couldn’t stop now. She deserved all of the truth. ‘I became accustomed to deflecting and redirecting emotion—both others’ and my own. I never faced the anger and fear that I felt, until the situation at Fincote forced me to. And then I began to believe that she had been right all along.’

  ‘You were both wrong,’ Mae said fiercely.

  ‘I diverted all of my resources to proving that. I thought that if I made Fincote a smashing success, only then would I know that I was worthy. I would restore their lives, their futures and it would become clear to myself, my people, even to the ghost of my mother’s voice inside of me, that I deserved love.’

  Her eyes filled again and she pulled him close. ‘You should have listened to me. I knew it all along.’

  He shook his head. ‘It seemed impossible. How could I ask you to love me, believe in me, if I didn’t believe in myself?’ He ran a finger along the side of her face. Cupping her jaw, he met her gaze and tried to convey the wealth of sorrow that he felt. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you, Mae,’ he whispered. ‘The choice was mine and I chose badly. I knew it as soon as it was done, and it only grew worse as the days passed, until I was forced to confront the awful truth. I did what I’ve never before had the courage to do. I took a good, long look at myself.’

  His mouth twisted. ‘It wasn’t easy. Or particularly pretty. I saw how badly I’d hurt you, after everything you had done for me, and I was ashamed. I knew I had to come here to apologise
, if nothing else.’

  She sighed.

  ‘And I had to tell you, too, that I’m done closing myself off. I am ready to share all that I am with you, if you’ll have me. There is nothing I want more than the chance to love you—and to accept your love in return.’

  He could feel the intensity with which she examined him, but he didn’t flinch. Love and happiness and relief were written in her eyes. She smiled. ‘Now, was that so hard?’

  He snorted. ‘Excruciating.’

  ‘Then I think we should get on with it,’ she said. ‘The loving part, I mean.’

  He was nothing if not obedient. He slid his hands up from the curve of her waist, over the bountiful arc of her glorious breasts. For a moment he lingered there, distracted, but his fingers had a job to do. Soon, he promised himself.

  He buried his hands in the golden sunset of her hair and began to pull out pins as quick as he could find them. Locks tumbled down and over her shoulders like rays of light. He hid his face in them, breathing deeply.

  Sunshine. She was heat and warmth and love and sunshine. He could never survive without her.

  Her hair fell across her bosom in waves, caressing her there. Jealous, he swept the locks aside. Now.

  She wore a simple day dress of sprigged muslin. It was but a matter of moments to have her bodice down and her stays off. And then she was his to worship.

  He laid her back on the softest of the blankets and filled his hands with her. Taking his time, he made love to her breasts with his fingers and tongue and teeth. Her own restlessly caressing hands gradually stilled. Her eyes closed. Soon she was bracing herself upon their bed of straw with her back arched, wordlessly offering herself up for more and more and more.

  With his tongue he gave one last teasing flick of her nipple before he pulled back. ‘I forgot. I have something for you.’

  She gazed up at him, drugged with lust. ‘Something more?’

  ‘Here.’ He took her hand and guided it to the heavy bulge in his breeches. ‘A package I promised to deliver straight into your hands.’ He laughed.

  She ran her hands along the hard ridge of him, exploring, and the laugh descended into a moan.

  ‘I do love surprises,’ she said. ‘Shall I unwrap it? Or will you?’

  Soon they were both unwrapped … undressed. Stephen knelt between Mae’s thighs and put a hand to the centre of her. Beautiful, wet heat. She sighed at his touch and opened her legs wider.

  He looked up, caught her eye and grinned. ‘Hold on,’ he warned. ‘There is another bit of strategy I have to implement.’ He bent to taste her. Her shocked gasp died away. Moans of pleasure filled the void. His mouth and tongue caressed, her body trembled.

  He couldn’t wait any longer. He poised himself between her thighs and eased his way home. She encouraged him with words and hands and adorably awkward hip movements. He didn’t need encouragement. She was tight and irresistible. He breathed deeply and plunged home.

  Mae tensed. She muttered an unladylike expletive in his ear.

  ‘I’m sorry, so sorry,’ he murmured, stroking her hair. ‘Let’s just be still a moment. It will get better. I hope.’

  It did. She relaxed, shifted, gave way and he was sinking again into heaven. And then they were moving, rocking, climbing higher together. Heat intensified, pleasure strengthened, and incredibly, he lengthened. He slipped a hand between them and stroked where his tongue lately had, where she needed it most.

  She cried out and flew over, into the abyss. Another thrust and he followed. They floated, at peace with the endless emptiness about them because they drifted together, bodies and souls entwined.

  Slowly, they came to earth, with contented sighs and happy murmurings. Gradually Stephen came back to his senses. They were curled on their sides, Mae’s body tucked into his. Their sated breathing was the only sound in the small space.

  A long curl of her hair lay across her shoulder. He began to trace his way along its fiery path. She grasped his arm, pulled it across her bosom and hugged it tight.

  Stephen was grateful. Peace, contentment and caring flowed into him along with the warmth of her touch. It made him feel strong.

  ‘You saved me, Mae. I had turned all that anger into a mirrored wall, invisible, but strong enough to protect the helpless boy still inside. And no one had a clue. Except you.’

  She smiled ruefully. ‘That wall has made me insane for years.’

  ‘I know. It scared the hell out me that you even knew it existed. I might never have turned the mirror inwards, if not for you.’

  Her fingers were back, caressing their way through his hair. ‘I tried my best, in Newmarket, to knock it down for good.’ Her smile was wry. ‘I tried every trick I knew and most of Josette’s, too.’

  ‘You put a damned good dent in it,’ he said. He couldn’t quite summon a laugh. ‘I was cracking apart in a hundred different directions. You had me in a frenzy. I wanted to tell you how badly I wanted you. I nearly found the courage, that night in Ryeton’s stables. I swore I was going to be as valiant as you and lay myself bare.’ He sighed. ‘I knew if you wanted me, then I wouldn’t be able to have you and to stay tucked away safe as well. I’m just sorry it took me so long.’

  Mae’s eyes grew sad. ‘I’m afraid I am a horrible nuisance. I know this about myself. Everything is neck or nothing. Full measure. It is just the way I am made. I understand that not everyone can live with this.’ Tears welled and her eyes sparkled like diamonds. ‘It is a lot to ask of a person.’

  ‘You should absolutely ask it, Mae. You deserve no less. Listen to me.’ He sat up, took her hands and pulled her gently up as well. ‘I had to choose it. If that wall was going to come down, then it had to be my doing. My choice.’ He kissed both of her hands. ‘I don’t need the world’s attention any longer. Not as long as you look at me with love in your eyes. Not as long as I have you to remind me of the man I am and the one I want to be. I don’t need that damned wall, because I have you to keep my heart safe.’

  She gripped his arms, but didn’t respond. Stephen felt a flash of alarm.

  ‘Shall I prove it?’ He held her shoulders tight. ‘I will. Anything.’ He said it with all the fierceness of his conviction. ‘Shall I give up racing? Sell Fincote?’ He glanced back towards the house and smiled. ‘Shall we go abroad? If you feel you will be happiest in Europe, it is fine with me. I’ll embark on any adventure, as long as I have you by my side.’

  She only gazed at him, intent.

  ‘Mae?’

  She reached up and held his face with both hands. Her gaze met his and held it.

  ‘Mae?’

  She blinked back sudden tears once more. ‘It’s you,’ she whispered. ‘You truly are in there. I can see you.’

  He smiled through his own suddenly watery eyes. ‘Yes. I’m here. Out here. In the open. Thanks to you.’

  She started to cry in earnest, then. He wrapped himself around her and held her tight. Tears were fitting, he thought, after everything they had put each other through. Tears of happiness at the start of their new life.

  Eventually, the storm died away. She raised tearful eyes to his. ‘I promise, I will keep your heart safe. Always,’ she said in a whisper.

  ‘I know you will,’ he said tenderly. And then he grinned. ‘And I promise to keep you busy.’ He jerked his head towards the house and the mounds of half-packed trunks. ‘Well, what of it, Mae? Are we for Plymouth and points beyond?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she mused. ‘There must be a great many things to keep track of, when you are operating a racecourse. I wouldn’t mind trying my hand at it.’

  He laughed. ‘Well, perhaps we can accomplish all of it. Make a mental note, my beauty, so we don’t forget. First, be safe,’ he began.

  ‘And be happy,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Next, run England’s most organised racecourse,’ he continued.

  ‘And then go to visit Europe,’ she finished.

  ‘Well, that should keep us occupied for quite a
while.’ He bent to kiss her.

  And so it did.

  * * * * *

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

  All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II BV/S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  ® and TM are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

  First published in Great Britain 2011

  Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,

  Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

  © Deb Marlowe 2011

  ISBN: 978-1-408-92318-4