Taming the Rake

by Monica McCarty

  He turned away, so she could not see his face, but she thought she heard a strange note in his voice. “It might.”

  She’d gotten further with this discussion than she would have believed. That he hadn’t dismissed the proposition and tossed her out immediately gave her confidence. “I could also provide you with an heir.”

  His head jerked back around. He didn’t reply right away, but allowed his eyes to rake her up and down, eventually coming to rest on her breasts. Heat crawled up her chest and neck. Her body tingled from the weight of his gaze, her taut nipples pressed uncomfortably against the fabric of her gown.

  “How can you be sure of that?”

  She blushed furiously. “There’s no reason to think…” Seeing his amusement, she bristled. “I’m sure I am perfectly capable of having twenty children.”

  “Twenty? Then perhaps we should begin. I’d hate to be duped by a bad bargain.”

  Her hands balled into tight fists at her side. “You’re insufferable.”

  He took a lazy sip from his glass. “So I’ve been told.”

  “Well?”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment, but appeared to consider her. “And what of love, Lady Georgina?” he asked softly. “I thought you wished to marry for love?”

  A sharp pain hit her between the ribs. I do wish to marry for love. Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips, which suddenly felt unbearably dry—even her voice sounded parched. “Obviously, I’ll not require that of you.”

  “Obviously,” he mimicked harshly. He looked right into her eyes. His next words shocked her to her core. “Very well, Lady Georgina, you’ve struck your bargain. I’ll marry you.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Coventry watched her astonished reaction with an admittedly malicious streak of pleasure. He knew he was being cruel, teasing her with his apparent acquiescence, but her presence in his house—alone—had caught him off guard. He wasn’t ready to see her. Not after what he’d unintentionally revealed after the exchange with his mother.

  She’d seen his vulnerability.

  And he’d seen her pity. He felt a strange certainty that pity was what brought her here.

  Shame ate at him, so he lashed out. For witnessing his humiliation and for Rockingham. The image of her in his friend’s arms haunted him. He was tired of her invading his life, his dreams. Of her refusing to leave him alone, no matter how hard he tried to push her away. He was tired of being taunted by her beauty, by her accomplishments, and by the very capableness that made him feel even more lacking.

  She was getting harder and harder to resist. If he could think of one good reason why she would be happy with him, he might be willing to stop. But he couldn’t. He could never be the man she wanted him to be. The man he realized she deserved.

  You’ll never amount to anything. You’re worthless…

  Georgina was beautiful, bold, and strong. Intelligent, passionate, and charming. And what was he? A dissipated rake with nothing to offer her but a life of disillusionment and disappointment. He’d ruin her, just as he ruined everything else in his life.

  So he’d give her the proposal she wanted, with the one condition that assured she would never accept.

  Her eyes widened to comical proportions. “You will?” she choked out.

  He leaned back on the chaise and kicked his legs out in front of him and smiled. “After I’m assured that we will suit.”

  Wariness crept into her expression. “What do you mean?”

  “I think you understand. If I marry you, I’d have certain rights.” He lowered his gaze suggestively until it rested between her legs.

  “You’ll marry me if I…?” She couldn’t quite get the words out.

  “Make love. Swive. Tup. Copulate.” He gazed deep into her eyes. “Fuck. Whatever you want to call it.”

  As he’d intended, she recoiled at the crudeness of his language.

  “I could never!” she exclaimed, properly mortified by his indecent proposal.

  He challenged her with a look, watching as the delicious heat of memory spread across her cheeks. She could, and very nearly had.

  “So you don’t want a wife at all, you simply want to ravish me?” Her voice sounded small and uncertain, as if his answer was important.

  “I want you, yes. I’ve never made any secret of that.” She had to refuse. So he added, “The question is whether I want you more than once.”

  She drew in her breath in shock and pain. A sheen of moisture glistened in her eyes. She’d wanted more from him, and he knew it. His chest burned uncomfortably as he fought the sudden urge to sweep her into his arms and kiss away his unconscionable lies.

  “And what if we do not suit?”

  He covered the sudden eruption of laughter with a muffled cough. Could she really be that naïve after what had happened in the card room? It appeared so. She had no idea of the effect she had on him. How he couldn’t take his eyes off her whenever she entered a room. How his body grew hard right then just thinking about making love to her.

  He shrugged as though not suiting was a distinct possibility. “It’s a gamble you must be prepared to take.”

  She started to pace around the room. She’d take a few steps, look at him, and start pacing again. Rather than the offended refusal he’d bargained for, Coventry watched her deliberate with a growing sense of unease. She was actually considering giving herself to him. Unlike last time, this was not a decision made in the heat of the moment, but in the cold hard light of day. Why would she risk everything for him? It’s not as if she was lacking for suitors. The answer gnawed at him, but he refused to believe it. The thought that she might care for him would tear down whatever shred of remaining resistance he had.

  Suddenly, he felt as though he was the one who’d just taken a dangerous gamble.

  And what the devil was he going to do if she said yes?

  Indecent, immoral, and offensive though Coventry’s proposal might be, Gina was actually considering it.

  No proper lady would even contemplate such wickedness. But then again no proper lady would have allowed his advances in the card room. Not to mention so thoroughly enjoying them. And no proper lady would be sitting with a rake unchaperoned in his bachelor’s lodgings, wondering what it would feel like to have his heavily muscled chest pressed against hers. Naked.

  Nothing, it seemed, she did was proper around Lord Coventry. He made her feel thoroughly improper.

  Improper enough to call his bluff. Because deep down that is what she suspected it was—another in the long list of attempts he’d made to chase her away.

  Her initial shock had given way to inquiry. Why was he doing this? He would never expect her to agree. It went against every social stricture and moral principle that she’d been taught. Unless perhaps that was precisely the point.

  Shrewdly, she studied him, taking in the squared jaw, the slight tension around his mouth, the way his fingers crushed the glass in his hand, all while he was trying to feign indifference. He was worried, but trying to hide it. She wished she could be sure about why.

  If she called his bluff could she trust him to keep his bargain, or was this some kind of a trick to seduce her? But that didn’t make sense. If this were only about sex, he could have taken her last time without the promise of marriage.

  Gina wiped her suddenly damp hands on her skirts. “How do I know you won’t renege on the deal? Or lie about whether we suit?”

  He stiffened. “Despite what you seem to think, I do not cheat.”

  His affront was so absurd she almost had to laugh. Here was a man suggesting he make her his whore before he made her his wife, yet who was offended because she’d impugned his honor by suggesting that he might cheat. It was this strange incongruity between wickedness and nobility that drew her to him. Once she sorted out the confusion in him, she knew he would be the man she wanted him to be.

  He called out to her in a way that no man ever had, and she suspected ever would.

  Gina wanted
to marry him. Wanted it enough to risk her virtue.

  If there ever was a man who needed her, it was Coventry. This time he would not push her away. No matter what he might claim to the contrary, he was not indifferent to her. What they’d shared was special. She’d prove it and dare him to deny it. Even if he tried, she still held the trump card: He needed her fortune.

  Slowly, she walked toward him on the chaise. “Fine. I accept.”

  His heart slammed into his lungs, taking his breath away. Blood pounded through his body with excitement… or nervousness… or perhaps both. “Do you realize what you are risking? You will be ruined.”

  “Only if we do not suit.”

  “You’ll never be able to marry.”

  She smiled and shook her head patronizingly, as if he was the one being naïve. “There are always men who can be persuaded to overlook a slight indiscretion. Your friend Lord Rockingham, for one. A fortune and connections such as mine will cure many imperfections.” She paused. “Even virginity.”

  Coventry scowled. She was right. But such a sophisticated appraisal of the hypocrisy of society was certainly not what he’d expected to hear. Nor did he like the way she casually referred to Rockingham as a potential husband. She was baiting him. Successfully, he might add.

  His hand clenched the glass so hard his knuckles had turned white. Rather than throw it against the mantel as he wanted to do, he carefully set it down next to him.

  Standing so close, tempting him, her sweet scent surrounded him. He ached to pull her into his arms, to touch her, to make her quiver with desire. To unleash the wild temptress hidden beneath the prim and proper exterior of a lady. He remembered only too well her passionate response to him.

  Oblivious to her danger, she started to the door. “You’ll let me know when? I fear it may be difficult to arrange a tryst”—she smiled sweetly—“but you’re inventive, I’m confident you will think of something.” She gripped the knob of the door to open it, glancing back at him coyly over her shoulder. “Of course if it’s too much trouble, we can always announce the engagement first.”

  The little vixen. She’d guessed he was bluffing.

  Perhaps he had been, but he wasn’t any longer. He wanted her and he was done denying himself.

  As if in afterthought, he stopped her with the door half open. “Oh, Georgina?”

  She stopped, slowly turning around again. “Yes.”

  “Now.”

  The color drained from her face. “You can’t be serious.”

  He stood and reached her in three long strides. Pushing the door closed with a definitive slam, he pulled her hard into his arms. His body’s readiness was undeniable. “I assure you, I’m very serious.”

  “But—”

  He put his finger to her mouth to stop her. “We’re alone. They won’t return for hours yet.” Though as desperate as he was to have her, he’d be lucky if he lasted five minutes. “As you pointed out”—he returned her sugary smile—“we might not find a better opportunity.”

  “But I’m n…not pr…prepared…,” she stammered. He caressed her quivering lower lip with the pad of his thumb.

  “Oh, but I think you are,” he whispered against her neck.

  Her body betrayed her. He held her gaze as he moved his hand from her mouth, reaching down between their bodies with the flat of his hand, her taut, aroused nipple pressed against his fingers through the thick layers of clothing. He suppressed a groan and the overwhelming urge to squeeze it in his hand. “I think you’re prepared,” he said softly. “Your body yearns for me. Do you see how hard your nipples are, how ready they are for me to taste them.” She made a low sound, half gasp and half moan. “Do you want me to put your breasts in my mouth, Georgina? Do you remember how it felt, how much you liked it when I circled your nipple with my tongue? When I nibbled you with my teeth? When I put my lips around you and sucked?” Circling the tip with his thumb, he lightly pinched the taut peak between his fingers, molding the lush curve of her breast with his hand. “I could make you fall apart just by sucking you.” His voice lowered to a dark whisper. “Would you like that?” She whimpered as if he was torturing her. He pressed his mouth against the fabric, teasing her with what he would do were there nothing to separate her skin from his lips and tongue.

  Her head fell back, siren’s lips parted, breath jagged, begging for more. God, he loved how she melted in his arms. How quickly her body flamed at his touch.

  But he wouldn’t give it to her yet. He moved his mouth from her breasts to nuzzle her neck, inhaling the sweet rose of her skin. Unable to resist the velvety softness, he tasted every inch of her exposed flesh, trailing kisses from her nape to the sensitive curve of her shoulder, stopping only when she shivered and moaned with frustrated desire.

  “Are you sure you’re not ready, Georgina?” he teased softly. “Should I touch you and find out?”

  Her eyes widened as she took his meaning. “No!”

  He lifted a brow. “Not ready, yet?” He smiled wickedly. “We’ll see.”

  Mutely, she stared at him, not sure what he meant to do.

  Untying the ribbons of her bonnet, he quickly dispatched it to the divan and carefully pulled the pins from her hair, sucking in his breath as the heavy waves of honey brown locks tumbled in a shining veil around her shoulders. He’d dreamed of seeing her hair like this, wondering what it would look like framing her delicate face with its lush splendor. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. Awed, he rubbed a lock between his fingers, testing its silken softness with his thumb, lifting it to his nose to inhale the sweet floral bouquet. Imagining it spread across his naked chest like a downy soft blanket.

  He wound his fingers through the shimmering waves, dipping her head back so he could continue to feast on her neck. He pressed his lips against her frantic pulse, slid his tongue around her ear and slowly worked the buttons of her pelisse.

  “Please,” she whispered, her voice ragged.

  “Please what?” he taunted against her ear. “I think you want this, my sweet. Even without the promise of marriage.” He’d pushed aside her pelisse, working the bodice of her gown aside to reveal the tight pink tip of her nipple. Wickedly, he dampened it with a quick flick of his tongue and blew. The warmth of his breath caused the tiny pearl to tighten even more. A shiver racked her narrow shoulders. “Your body is practically begging for me.” Just like his cock was weeping for her. “And Georgina?”

  Dazed, she opened her eyes half-mast.

  “Unless you leave this room right now, I’m going to give you what you want.” He paused. “Everything you want.”

  But he wouldn’t make it easy on her. He’d give her what she wanted, but he wouldn’t hold anything back. He could be ruthless in his pursuit of pleasure. Years of practice had taught him just how he liked it. Wild, untamed, and sinfully erotic. A virgin could never keep up with him. Hell, whores barely kept up with him.

  Yet Gina challenged him in a way that no other woman ever had. He had a perverse desire to see how far he could push her. He’d force her to see the depths of his depravity. Then she’d run. And leave him to the demons of his own discontent.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Feet firmly rooted to the ground, Gina couldn’t move. She’d called his bluff and he’d called hers.

  He was right. She did want this.

  Already she felt weak with desire, drenched with sultry warmth by the wickedness of his words alone—and he’d yet to even kiss her. Her nipples hurt from his teasing, aching for the warmth of his mouth. Could he truly pleasure her just by kissing her breasts? The mere thought of his dark head bent over her, sucking her, sent a sharp bolt of pleasure shooting between her legs.

  She wanted him to keep touching her, to feel his mouth on hers, the slash of his tongue, the caress of his fingers inside her. He was right, she was ready for him. Damp and warm, tingling with anticipation. She shivered, remembering the exquisite pressure that built inside her as his fingers slid between her legs, how she’d rubbed a
gainst his hand, begging for more. She wanted more. She wanted him inside her, bringing to final fruition the unspoken promise of paradise made in the card room.

  She ached for the closeness of lovemaking, the intimacy that could only come with the joining of two bodies. She wanted nothing left between them, no clothes, no pretense, no barriers. She wanted to warm the chill in his heart with her love. To bind him to her. To show him how much she cared. To show him just how wrong his mother had been.

  To give him pleasure.

  Coventry was worth her virtue and so much more. She just had to make him see it.

  “I’m not leaving,” she answered.

  His face darkened, as if her words were too much for him. As if now that she’d agreed, any vestige of civilized behavior had fled, revealing the savage, raw nature of his desire. For her.

  Her body hummed with excitement.

  He held her back at arm’s length, staring straight into her eyes. “There will be no turning back.”

  She swallowed hard. She understood what she risked. But there came a time in every young girl’s life when she rebelled against the prison of respectability and manners, from the lessons instilled since childhood to make her own decisions. This was her time, and her decision. “I know.” And if she’d made a mistake, she’d live with the consequences. And know that she’d given him everything in her heart. And her body.

  He might be the more experienced player, but she still had a card or two to play. There is nothing she wouldn’t do for this man; he’d soon discover that. Her heart pounded. She took a deep breath. “Show me. Show me what to do. Show me how to please you.”

  Flames leapt in his eyes. Her request surprised him. He gave her a long look before he moved to the windows, closing the curtains and blocking out all but the softest rays of sunlight. Taking her hand, he led her to the divan. Sitting down, he pulled her on his lap.

  “Put your arms around my neck,” he instructed.