The Passionate Love of a Rake: HarperImpulse Historical Romance

by Jane Lark

  He kicked his stallion into a canter again and called back. “Oh, but I’m a happy man now I know I shall have such fine company in hell.”

  She kicked her mare, too, to keep up. “That is wicked, indeed, my Lord, to will me to an eternity of hell’s fire.”

  When she drew alongside him, he sent her a look which turned her stomach in a sharp flip-flop.

  “Of course, once you are in for a penny, why not throw in for a pound? As you are already a lost cause, I could educate you in all the pleasures of sin. I would be a willing teacher, if you agree to be an apt pupil.”

  “Robert!” she chastised, then laughed, knowing she was tempted despite herself. “Friends!” she chastened, forcing her expression into one of rebuff. She could not hold it and smiled again.

  “I wonder, Jane, are we to be friends that kiss? A friendship in the style of Lady Rimes and Lord Sparks’s I think I may endure.”

  “Robert, stop it.” Her voice was more serious, censuring his words. She really did not need this.

  Glancing in her direction, he clearly realised he’d gone too far. “As you say,” he answered lightly.

  For several strides, they rode in silence.

  “Have I upset you?” Robert prodded.

  “No.” She refused to be upset. She wished to enjoy today, enjoy their ride, and enjoy his company.

  “No?”

  She glanced at him. His voice had gained that tell-tale lilt of charm.

  “You are a master in your art, Robert.” She smiled again, and he smiled in answer.

  “And what art would that be?” he queried with satire.

  “The art of lechery, my Lord.”

  “You wound me.” One gloved hand left his reins and pressed to his chest over his heart. “I am mortified, my dear. Have you not heard of my prowess in other fields? My knowledge of Roman and Greek artefacts is renowned. I lived upon the trade abroad.”

  “Trade, my Lord?” She laughed. “Your father must have been disgusted.”

  He threw her a look which said it all. His father and he had fallen out. She’d heard that and forgotten it. He pulled the stallion back to a trot. She followed suit. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to offend you.”

  “You did not.” He didn’t look in her direction. “Actually, he never spoke to me again after he told me to go abroad.”

  That struck her dumb. She stopped her horse, and, after a couple of paces, he stopped, too. “Robert?” How awful.

  He’d been close to his father as a boy. Her parents had never cared for her. She knew how much it must have hurt him. Yet a man like Robert would not seek her sympathy.

  His expression said it was nothing, but of course, it was. He slid his feet from the stirrups and swung down, dropping to the ground. Then he lifted his hand to her. “Shall we walk the horses for a bit and give them chance to get a second wind before we ride back?”

  She gripped his hand and nodded as a sharp spasm of longing stirred low in her tummy. She ignored it, unhooking her knee, then slid to the ground. For a moment, they stood a foot apart, looking at each other, his brown-black gaze penetrating hers.

  She stepped back. He let her hand fall. Then they turned together and began walking towards the long stretch of water which crossed the park, leading the horses behind them, each gripping the animals’ reins in one hand as they walked.

  “Why did you go?”

  He threw her a wry smile. “Life was dull. I like pleasure. My father thought the grand tour would sober me up. Unfortunately, no one had told him what it was really like abroad. The wine and the women there are worth a dozen here. He disapproved of my pastimes. But then, of course, there was always Edward – the white to my black. My brother was ever the knighted hero as far as my father was concerned. But believe me, I am not bothered by it. I had my fun, made merry while it lasted, and as the estates were entailed, he could not fully cut me off. For a while, I thought I would leave it all to Edward, let him get on with it and stay abroad.”

  “Yet you came back?”

  “I would have gotten to that,” he answered, a deep laugh resonating in his chest, but it sounded hollow. “Am I boring you?”

  “Don’t be silly, Robert, you were being serious.”

  “I am never serious, Jane. My friends shall tell you. Ask Sparks. I came back because, in the end, I was bored of it there, too. I fancied something different. Have you never heard how shallow I am?”

  Her gloved fingers touched his arm. He did not stop walking. She dropped her hand and kept his pace as the horses trailed behind them. “I do not think you shallow. Complicated, yes. I have heard your reputation. Who has not? You’ve made a point of compounding it since you came back to London. Yet … ” She stopped, even though he walked on. “I don’t think I believe it.”

  “You don’t believe me?” He stopped, too, looked back, and shrugged. “Pray, tell me, what on earth is there to not believe?” He was mocking her, she realised, but he was mocking himself, too. There was a bitter look in his eyes.

  “You are different, Robert, but I don’t think you are what you portray yourself to be.” He just stared at her, revealing nothing. She felt as though he deliberately sought to confuse her, to confuse everyone. He wanted to shut people out and shield the truth. But what was the truth? “Is it because you were hurt by your father?”

  His eyes suddenly focused sharply on hers, but then he shook his head and turned away.

  She followed, but his strides were quicker and longer; she could not keep up. One hand lifting the hem of her habit, the other still clinging to her mare’s reins, she yelled after him, “Robert!”

  “That is the end of that subject,” he barked, neither turning nor slowing. “I do not wish to speak of it.”

  “Robert, wait!”

  “Wait!” she called again as he continued striding ahead of her. “Oh, for goodness’ sake.” She stopped, giving up her useless pursuit. “If you do not stop, I shall just go back.”

  That caught his attention. He halted and turned, waiting for her to catch up, his eyes following her, his jaw clenched.

  “So, what of you?” he said as she approached. “Have you made merry with Sutton’s fortune? I assume, with a husband half in the grave when you were wed, you have had ample opportunity for sport.”

  “There is no need to be mean just because I touched a raw nerve,” she answered, then pursed her lips.

  He gave her his charmer’s smile. “I did not intend to be mean.” He laughed, acting as though he had not been annoyed a moment ago. She knew he had been.

  “Then explain to me in what context you asked your question.”

  “In the context, my dear, that while I have been earning a rakehell’s reputation, you have been tucked quietly away in your country house, silent as a mouse. Yet, you must have lived quite well. Sutton was hardly poor. You have had money to spend and entertainments to host as a duchess.”

  Jane was still unsure of his intent. Was he trying to hurt her in return? She chose to respond anyway, not wishing to close down another topic, although she was as uncomfortable with this subject as he’d appeared to be with the last. “Hector liked to live quietly. He was not a man for grandeur. Hence, I did not indulge in overspending, or fancy, or even socialising.”

  “Hector.” Robert’s tone was one of distaste as he held her gaze, his dark eyes visibly trying to look into her thoughts, and then, again, he simply turned away and walked on, but at least this time he did not rush. His horse whinnied. “And did you and Hector get along well?”

  “Well enough,” she answered cagily, still unable to assess if he was mocking her or not. Well enough, if you considered being used, ignored, or disparaged getting along.

  “He did buy you things, then, treated you lavishly, I suppose. I mean, that was what you wished for, was it not? That was why you married him, for the pomp and finery.”

  Her gaze rested on his broad shoulders as he walked a pace ahead. The air between them seemed charged with something she r
eally did not understand. It was more than conversation. She’d cared for none of the pomp and finery and it certainly had not been worth its price, and the greatest cost had been losing Robert.

  When she did not answer, he pressed again, changing tack. “I mean to say, you benefited well from it.”

  Oh, let him think what he wished. She really did not care any more, Hector was gone. She had a chance for freedom, and she was damn well going to chase it. “My parents did, I’m sure,” she answered cryptically.

  They walked on in silence, Robert looking at the shore of the Serpentine as they drew closer, while she studied him, a chasm standing between them.

  When they reached the gravel path surrounding the lake, letting go of his horse’s reins, he bent down and picked up a single flat pebble, then he spun the stone and skimmed it across the lake. Her eyes followed it as it skipped on the water nine times before plopping beneath the surface, each bounce spreading a ring of ripples out across the surface. It brought back their childhood so vividly, the three of them together at the lake on his parents’ land. Whenever she’d succeeded in skimming stones, the brothers were never looking, and they’d refused to believe her.

  He turned back and viewed her with a sceptical expression, but smiled. “Well, as it seems we cannot find a safe subject for conversation, perhaps we ought to return to my original idea and be lovers. We would have no reason to converse then. We could just kiss. We seem to manage that well enough.”

  “Robert,” she admonished, glancing left and right to check no one was close enough to hear.

  Robert looked at his groom who’d hung back and beckoned him forward, then asked the man to hold their horses. Afterwards, he took Jane’s hand, wrapped it about his forearm, and began walking along the gravel path, his fingers covering hers as he bent to her ear. “We used to be able to talk well enough. If I remember correctly, you had a habit of never shutting up, well, not unless I found another use for your lips.”

  “Robert, don’t.” Her voice complained, yet her body responded, and her fingers clung to his arm. She liked him like this, teasing as the old Robert would. It was as though the sunny youth she remembered occasionally reached through his dark clouds.

  “Do you remember that night?” he asked in a low, husky tone.

  Oh yes, she remembered that night. He’d taken her out on the lake in a punt. His parents had held a garden party, and her parents had been asked to stay. She and Robert had planned a late night rendezvous on the lake. They’d met at midnight. Then, as quietly as possible, they’d freed one of the shallow, long boats, and Robert had pushed them out into the middle of the lake to a place where they could not be seen. They’d lain together in the hull on a bed of cushions, the clear night sky above them, so many sparkling stars piercing the darkness their only audience.

  They’d kissed for a long while, entirely wrapped up in each other, and yet, he’d never pushed her for more. Then they’d talked of the future, of the life they would have, of how their children may look; their future marriage a mutual unspoken agreement. It all sounded foolish now. She’d been so blind then.

  But that night had been in her dreams ever since, and in her dreams, he’d undressed her and loved her. They were only dreams. Yet for years, she’d regretted letting that opportunity go.

  The next day, Robert had returned to Oxford, and her parents had begun to arrange her match with Sutton. When Robert had come home at Christmas, he’d arrived with a ring in his open palm, and he’d said “I want you to marry me now. Let’s not wait. May I speak to your father?” But her father had already signed the agreement with Sutton. He would simply have told Robert to go away.

  Lost in thought, she’d not realised he’d continued speaking, until he stopped, turned her to him, and gripped her chin. “Jane? I’m sorry. I should not have spoken of Sutton. I did not mean to upset you.”

  Her eyes met his, and she was mesmerised by the sincerity she saw there. They caught the daylight and turned to honey, his long, dark lashes framing them, his dark eyebrows outlining them. She felt out of her depth and overwhelmed by need for him.

  She stepped back, out of reach. “I was not thinking of Hector. I was thinking of you,” she whispered, astonished the words had slipped from her lips. She blushed and turned away, lifting her hem from the ground, and started back towards the horses. “We should go. If I am too long, Violet will worry.” When she glanced back, hearing him follow, she caught his puzzled expression, but he did not speak.

  When she reached the mare, Robert’s groom bent and locked his fingers together to make a step, so she was already in the saddle by the time Robert returned. He swung up on to his, and they rode back across the park in a gentler canter, silent.

  ~

  “Where will you be tonight?” Robert asked as he gripped Jane’s fingers in parting before Violet’s door.

  “You do not wish to come in for tea?”

  “I think I can go without your friend’s satiric observations for one afternoon.” Their gazes locked, and he felt as though she wished to say something, but did not dare. The woman captivated him. He studied the light which caught the vivid green of her eyes and memorised the image for future recall. He’d been doing it all afternoon, preserving moments. The way she rode. The way she walked. The feel of her fingers on his arm. Her face in various silhouettes. The details of each expression that he saw.

  Why?

  He could not say. Except he was aware of a deep fear she would move on and he would lose her a second time. This time, he wished to make sure he could remember every detail of her when she’d gone.

  He said nothing else. He’d upset her thrice today and that would hardly bring her about. In the future, he’d have to find some safe topic they could both converse on without prodding painful memories.

  She sighed, the breath slipping through her parted lips. “Violet proposed Vauxhall.”

  “Is Sparks escorting you?”

  “As far as I am aware.”

  “Then would you permit me to accompany him? I’m certain he would agree.” Damn it, he sounded as desperate as he’d been at nineteen. But then, he probably was. Still, it earned him a very pretty smile. He realised then how little he’d seen her smile in recent days, when as a young woman she’d smiled constantly. If she would let him get close enough, he vowed he would make her smile all the time again. Just for him.

  “You would dare to suffer Violet’s reproach then?”

  He let her fingers go and set his hand over his heart. “For you, anything.”

  She blushed, smiling even more. “I’ll tell Violet.”

  “And I shall find Sparks and tell him he has company.”

  “I am sure I vex them in any case, tagging along when they would rather be alone.” Her smile slipped. He’d sensed a deep sadness in her ever since that first night. Now he was starting to believe it was grief. Perhaps she’d really cared for Sutton, and if she had, maybe his adolescent impression of her, before she’d thrown him off, had not been awry – and yet, she had taken the route of a fortune-hunter.

  “Your company could never vex anyone, Jane.” It is the lack of it that sets a man into the mire of despair. He bowed valiantly. “Until tonight then, fair maiden.”

  That had the smile back on her lips.

  “Until tonight.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Your Grace, my Lady sent word to say their Lordships are waiting in the hall.” Violet’s maid bobbed a curtsy, her fingers resting on the handle of the open door.

  “I will be down in a moment.” Jane looked into the long cheval mirror again, and her hands skimmed across her gown, smoothing out creases which did not exist.

  She felt nervous, even though when she had returned from seeing Robert she’d felt elated. She hadn’t been able to stop smiling all afternoon. Violet had said dryly, “He wasn’t a bore then,” when she’d seen Jane’s smile.

  He had been anything but. When Robert played charmer he had Jane completely in his palm. It wa
s dangerous befriending a notorious seducer.

  Violet had even said she might grow to like Robert, if he could make Jane smile as he had.

  Now Jane felt uncertain again, though. Afraid to go forward, and yet not wishing to go back.

  “You look exquisite, Your Grace,” Meg, Jane’s own maid, commented.

  Jane’s jet-black curls were secured behind a thin silver tiara decorated with pearls, and she wore a matching three-stringed necklace which drew the eye to the flesh above her low neckline. The dress was an emerald green silk and the high waist tucked beneath her breasts. She looked well. She knew she did, and yet, she’d never worn anything which drew attention so vividly before. Her courage was faltering.

  Still, there was nothing to do but go. She’d made her choice. It was too late to change it now. Filling her lungs with a deep, slow breath, she told herself she was going to have fun. She was with friends. What on earth was there to fear, for heaven’s sake?

  Jane turned so Meg could set the black shawl she held across Jane’s shoulders. It fell and looped across her elbows, hanging beneath her bottom at her back, framing the dress rather than spoiling its lines.

  ~

  “Ah, and here she is,” Lady Rimes stated. Robert looked up and found the air trapped in his lungs. God, Jane was stunning. His gaze swept across every curve and contour. She was perfection.

  “You have given up your mourning,” he said as she came down. She gave him a closed-lip smile and nodded.

  Sparks bowed.

  Robert remembered his manners and offered her a slight bow too, but he could not take his eyes off her.

  “Lord Barrington.” She held out her hand when she reached the hall. Her slender fingers were coated in emerald silk too.

  He took them willingly, entirely enslaved, lifted them to his lips, kissed her knuckles, and savoured the intimacy, his thumb stroking across her palm.