The Rake to Ruin Her

by Julia Justiss

  Max tugged off her skirts while she kicked at them to help him, until she was clad only in the thin linen chemise. His eyes were a fierce blue in the candlelight that played over his powerful shoulders, his chest rising and falling rapidly in time to his ragged breathing. She leaned forwards to yank down his breeches, then paused to admire him, jutting proudly erect before her. He groaned and shuddered when she grasped him again and traced his length, then laid her cheek against it. ‘Beautiful,’ she murmured, ‘Beautiful.’

  With a growl, he kicked off his breeches and pulled her up against the pillows. Kissing her, he smoothed his hands down the thin fabric still covering her belly, then dragged the linen upwards and parted her legs to his view, his fingers tracing the most intimate part of her as he gazed at her. ‘Beautiful,’ he murmured in return.

  When he touched the small nub at her centre, intense sensation rocketed outwards, making her cry out and leap beneath his hand. Murmuring, caressing her again and again while she thrashed her head against the pillows and the intensity built and built and built. His fingers dipped within her wet passage, massaging her in a maddening, delectable, slow liquid slide, in and then out again.

  Suddenly she simply had to have him there, the firm hard length of him filling the place his fingers were stroking. With an incoherent murmur, she urged him above her, widened her legs and guided him to that pulsing, aching, spot.

  She let out a sob of relief as he entered her, then stiffened with a little gasp at the stretching, tearing pain. Immediately he stilled, soothing her with kisses until her body relaxed and the pulsing within her began again, impelling her to thrust her hips and pull him deeper.

  But holding himself above her, his elbows locked and arms corded with effort, only slowly did he increase the penetration. Wanting him deeper, wanting something she craved desperately, but which seemed to dance just beyond reach, she thrust up to meet him as he drove downwards, until she felt him fully encased within her.

  He began to increase the rhythm now, faster and faster, seeming as driven as she. Suddenly she reached the precipice and sailed over, while starbursts of delicious sensation exploded within her.

  Gasping, spent, she sagged back against the pillows, head whirling from wine and sensation. Murmuring her name, Max cried out. Moments later, he collapsed beside her and drew her close, cradling her against his chest.

  Smiling, sated, satisfied, Caro fell asleep.

  * * *

  The warm tickle of a sunbeam on his face woke Max the following morning. As his mind rose slowly to consciousness, he reflected that he must have drunk more wine than he’d thought to have slept so late, when memories of the previous night came flooding back.

  Grinning, he stretched languorously, an expansive feeling of contentment filling him. He’d always suspected Caro would be deeply passionate. The reality had proved better than his imaginings.

  He couldn’t wait to test that fact again. Though judging by the sun, the morning was rather far advanced, maybe he could do so even now.

  But as he prepared to rise, he realised he was not in the bedchamber he’d occupied since coming to Denby Lodge, but in hers. The linens on the bed beside him were cold. Where had she gone?

  Knowing his Caro, she’d probably tiptoed out at dawn, leaving him to sleep while she went off to work with her horses. With only a few weeks remaining before her sale, he advised his disappointed body, he’d probably not be able to lure her back to bed again this morning.

  Would she meet him boldly this morning or blush to face him in the light of day, after giving herself wholly and urgently into his hands? Handling him in return. A hot flush of desire rushed through him as he recalled how she’d stroked him, fitted him to her, linked her legs behind his back to urge him deeper.

  Despite her midnight display of passion, by daylight she’d probably be shy, he predicted. Suddenly he couldn’t wait to discover which Caro he’d meet today, the practical, pragmatic horsewoman in her breeches and boots, or the wicked siren who’d stroked him in her bed.

  Pulling on enough clothing to be decent, he jogged back to his chamber, changed into fresh attire and headed downstairs. Stopping in the breakfast room for some nourishment, he learned from Manners that the mistress had eaten early and gone to the stables. Tossing down his last sip of ale, he gave the butler a broad wink that had the servant hastily biting his lip to keep from smiling as Max walked out.

  Max chuckled. The fact that the mistress had slept with her husband last night would be all over the manor by now.

  As he neared the barns, Max picked up his pace. From a distance, he could just make out Caro standing by the fence of the first paddock, where she’d been working the gelding on a lunge line yesterday.

  Joy, effervescent as the bubbles in last night’s champagne, rose in his chest. He couldn’t wait to see her, kiss her again. Though he’d been forced to enter this marriage, the reality of it was turning out to be better than he’d ever dared hope. With the passionate relationship he’d needed to seal his satisfaction with the bargain finally developing, he couldn’t help but congratulate himself.

  After spending every day with Caro for nearly a month, he found her as interesting, intelligent and amusing as he had the day she’d propositioned him for the first time in the greenhouse at Barton Abbey. He’d come to admire her expertise with horses and appreciate the firm grasp of business affairs that allowed her to run the stud with such efficiency. The scope of her interests and depth of her knowledge of the world, on display each evening as they talked over dinner and tea, continued to surprise and delight him.

  To have ended up wedding a lady who combined the straightforward demeanor of a man with the passionate response of a vixen was a stroke of good fortune. To have found all that in a lovely woman who was also a substantial heiress made him the luckiest man in England.

  All that remained to make his life complete would be to find Madame Lefevre and have her testimony clear his name.

  Her back to him as she spoke with the head trainer, Caro didn’t see him approach. After pausing until the conversation had concluded and the groom turned away, Max seized her by the shoulders, twirled her around and pulled her into his arms, then leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead.

  ‘How is my lovely wife this morning?’

  ‘Max!’ she protested, her face colouring.

  Shy, just as he’d predicted, Max thought, grinning.

  ‘Walk with me?’ he asked, his hands resting on her shoulders. ‘I wish you’d awakened me before you left. I would have liked to demonstrate my appreciation for last night in a most tangible way.’

  His fingertips first warned him that something was wrong, as he felt her shoulders stiffen under his touch. But his giddy mind still hadn’t quite accepted the fact as she pulled free.

  ‘I’m glad you were...satisfied.’

  Her cool tone and averted face were so shockingly different from the joyous, passionate woman he’d made love to just a few hours ago, he felt her withdrawal as sharply as a slap. His delight and anticipation swiftly faded.

  As he searched her averted face, trying to figure out what had happened, the happiness he’d felt upon waking this morning leached away, as water held in the hand seeps through clenched fingers.

  ‘What is it, Caro? What’s happened?’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong,’ she said quickly, even as she took another step back, as if she couldn’t tolerate his nearness. Avoiding his gaze, she added, ‘I’m just...tense, with the sale so close upon us and so much left to do.’

  He wouldn’t let her retreat. Catching her chin, he forced it up, so she had to look him in the eye. ‘Don’t go all missish on me! Where’s the straightforward woman I married? Something is distressing you. Why not just tell me what it is?’

  To his dismay, her forehead creased and her lips began to tremble, while tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.

  ‘Come on, Caro,’ he coaxed, her reaction sparking real concern in him now. ‘You know
I don’t bite.’ Trying to distract her, he put a bit of wickedness in his smile as he added, ‘At least, not so that it hurts.’

  ‘It may hurt more than you can possibly imagine.’

  Before he could ask her what she meant, she gave him a short nod. ‘You’re right; I have to tell you. Let’s walk.’

  A shock of alarmed disbelief ripped through him when he went to take her elbow—and she brushed his hand away.

  Crossing her arms protectively in front of her chest, she said, ‘You know how strongly I resisted getting married. Though it’s true that I never wanted to wed anyone but Harry, there was another reason for my resistance. An even more serious one.’

  While he listened in disbelief, she briefly told him about a condition which had afflicted nearly every female of her mother’s family, a condition that had resulted in those women dying in childbed with their first child.

  ‘Obviously, I know nothing of childbirth other than that it can be dangerous for the mother. But...you are saying there is some sort of—of flaw of the body that afflicts all women of your blood?’

  She smiled without humour. ‘I call it “the Curse”.’

  He shook his head. ‘You truly believe in this? Isn’t it more probable it is just unhappy coincidence?’

  She hugged herself more tightly. ‘Lady Denby said you’d probably think that. She doesn’t believe it either. But I do. I’ve seen it. Not in my own mother’s case, of course, but with my cousins. Four of them, dying as young women in birthing their first child.’

  While he struggled to wrap his mind around those facts, she finally looked up at him. ‘So you see, I haven’t been trying to tease or bedevil you. As drawn as I am to you—and you cannot help but have noticed how much—I was...afraid,’ she finished, two tears tracking down her cheeks. ‘Afraid of what might happen, if I let you make love to me.’

  Knowing how difficult it must have been for his strong, fierce Caro to admit that, appalled by what he’d just heard, Max could think of nothing to say.

  ‘I thought, since you could have any woman you fancied, maybe you wouldn’t desire me. I thought I could resist you. But last night...I wanted you more than my next breath. And it was wonderful beyond anything I could have imagined! But this morning, all I could see in the dull orange of the rising sun was the face of my cousin Anne as she died at dawn, holding my hand. And blood, everywhere blood.’

  ‘Oh, Caro,’ he murmured, and pulled her into his arms. This time, she did not resist.

  For a long moment, he simply held her, her muffled sobs resonating against his chest, while disbelief, horror and concern for her chased each other around his head.

  Finally, she calmed and pushed away. He let her go.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before we were wed?’ he asked, anger beginning to merge into his tangle of emotions. ‘Don’t you think I had a right to know that ours could never be a normal marriage, without—without putting your life at risk?’

  ‘I did tell you I wanted a marriage in name only,’ she

  reminded him. ‘And you did agree...though we both knew such a condition was not enforceable.’ She shrugged. ‘I didn’t wish to show myself to be the coward I am. Besides, it is my risk.’

  ‘Devil take it, Caro, I’m not such a monster as to heedlessly put your life in danger to satisfy my own lust!’

  ‘What’s done is done,’ Caro said. ‘I’m afraid you are saddled with me now. After last night, I shall just have to accept the risk. There are compensations, after all.’ She gave him a wan smile. ‘I shall no longer have to try to resist you.’

  Even knowing the danger he placed her in, having to resist her would be difficult for him as well. A few moments ago, despite being shocked and appalled by what she’d revealed, just the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest, her flat belly rubbing against him, had been enough to make his member stir. Knowing the power of passion, he realised how insidiously his body could lure him into ignoring the risk.

  Like standing near a burning building as fire consumed it, he felt falling around him the charred bits of this morning’s illusion that with Caro, the marriage he hadn’t wanted could turn into a close, fulfilling union.

  Once again, not her fault. She had asked for a marriage of convenience. One like his parents’. Only he, arrogant bastard that he was, had thought to turn it into something more.

  ‘Maybe it would be best if I made sure we both resisted temptation,’ he said at last. ‘I’m not sure I really believe in this “Curse” of yours, but it’s enough that you do. Damn it, Caro, I don’t want you risking your life. And frankly, I have even less desire to be a father than I did to be a husband. Heaven help me, with the example I had, what would I know about fathering?’

  She flinched and he realised his reminder about his reluctance to wed must have hurt. But right now, hurting too, he couldn’t make himself utter words of comfort.

  ‘Why don’t I leave for Vienna, as I’ve long planned? You’ve got your horses to train and the sale coming up; I’m sure you don’t need me here complicating your work.’

  ‘Distracting me,’ she amended, making him feel a tad better. But then, taking an unsteady breath, she nodded her assent. ‘Yes, that would probably be best. I’ve a thousand things to do and you will want to get on with your life.’

  On with his life...leaving behind the inconvenience of a wife who cringed at his touch. How easily, Max thought, sorrow twisting like a knife in his gut, Caro seemed able to dismiss him.

  Whereas, after their month together, he was now linked by affection as well as law to a wife he could not bed. Anger flared hotter. Once again, he was trapped in an impossible situation.

  Maybe he could at least right the one in Vienna.

  ‘Very well. I’ll make arrangements to leave immediately. Today, if possible.’

  She nodded vigorously. ‘That would be best. As I shall be very busy all day, I may not be able to see you off, so I’ll bid you farewell now. Good luck, Max. I hope you find the evidence you need.’

  She stepped towards him, kissed his cheek briefly and stepped back. He made no attempt this time to pull her into his arms.

  ‘Goodbye, Max. May you have a safe and successful

  journey.’

  At that, she turned away and set off at a near-run towards the barn, as if she couldn’t escape his presence quickly enough.

  Max stood and watched her retreat, the idyll of their country life retreating with her. Joy had already drained away; now even his anger dissolved, leaving in its place a sense of loss that wounded him more sorely than he could have ever anticipated.

  If his being gone was what she wanted, he’d oblige. He had a deal of experience in being sent away, too.

  Turning on his heel, wildly contradictory emotions churning in his chest, Max set off for the house.

  * * *

  From the safety of the barn, Caro watched Max walk away. She pressed her lips together, her nails biting into the stable rail as she resisted the temptation to run after him, ask at least for a parting kiss to remember him by.

  Ask him to stay.

  But he’d been angry as well as appalled when he walked off. Would he ever kiss her again? Would she even see him again?

  A throb of emotion made up of strong relief and a deep agony pulsed through her. The tears she’d been suppressing began to drip down her cheeks as she gave in to the memories warring within her.

  She’d awakened in his arms, filled with a bone-deep peace and sense of wicked delight as she remembered each delicious kiss, touch and caress from the night before. She’d snuggled closer, trying to decide whether to awaken his quiescent member with strokes and kisses, or begin at his toes and explore every inch of his strong, perfect body.

  Until her muzzy, sleep-dulled brain had cleared enough for her to realise the full implications of what she’d permitted—nay, encouraged—Max to do. Dismay and horror rushed through her, bringing her fully awake in an instant.

  He’d only spilled
his seed within her once. Perhaps she hadn’t conceived...yet.

  But despite her dismay, merely thinking about him buried deep inside her body, moving within her, setting off such exquisite and powerful sensations, sent a rush of arousal through her.

  Loving him had been quite simply the most marvellous, incredible, amazingly powerful experience of her life. Even knowing the danger, thinking about it reignited within her the desire to entice him to love her again and again and again. Aware now of its potential for delight, her body hungered for his caress, eager to repeat the journey towards that precipice, wanting to reach it with him and soar over together into ecstasy.

  Watching him disappear around the bend leading to the house, fighting to keep herself from trying to recall him, she now understood why her mother and aunt and cousins had been willing to risk the Curse. It had little to do with a wife’s duty to bear a son and everything to do with the euphoria of completion and the sense of union with another human soul that forged a bond even deeper than the one she’d shared with her father.

  Could she let him go?

  After her father’s years of preparation, with the arrival of the Arabian, the dream of having the stud fulfil its full promise was within reach. The horse would be here within days. All that remained then would be to visit the breeders in Ireland for suitable mares and the last step of the cross-breeding process could begin.

  Papa had estimated several years would be required to evaluate the foals and determine the final, best mix. But if she had at least one full year, she might get the process far enough under way that, if necessary, she could turn it over to someone else. With the stud books kept carefully and with continuous consultation, Newman might be able to carry on the programme without her.

  If she worked diligently all that time, perhaps, when all was in place, she could seek out her husband. Ask to start over. Accept the risk of the Curse in exchange for the joy of being fully his wife.

  If he would take her back. She tried to put out of her mind all the legions of beautiful, talented, enticing women waiting to amuse, seduce and pleasure a man like Max Ransleigh. Women she’d promised him complete freedom to enjoy.