Nothing But a Rakehell (A Series of Unconventional Courtships Book 2)

by Deb Marlowe

  As in all things, she was his equal. Her lips clung to his, demanded more, sent his passion soaring higher.

  But she pulled back again, and she gave a low moan when he transferred his kisses, moving along her jaw and down her throat.

  “Keswick,” she whispered. “Come. I’ve prepared a place for us.”

  He straightened, struggling to focus. And found a stray doubt, still lingering. “Glory, are you sure?”

  “Yes,” she said firmly. “Perhaps we are not meant to spend our lives together, but now, at this moment, we have the ability to make each other happy. It’s a gift, one we both need at present. We are not going to squander it.”

  She led him through the bracken to the ledge that hovered over that spectacular view. He drank it in once more, then realized that she’d spread several layers of thick blankets in front of the rock outcropping, where they’d sat once before.

  “Here,” she said with determination. “In the open. In the light.”

  He deliberately kept his focus on her face. “Are you sure?” he asked again. He recalled her shyness regarding her leg, that night by the river.

  “I am. Today is my day for being brave and true to myself. The first of many, I hope. I’m finally going to listen to Hope, and to you, and even to Miss Myland.” She gave him a nudge. “Go and sit on the rocks, please.”

  Pursing his lips, he obeyed, but when she moved to stand in front of him, and paused to gather herself, he surged back up and took her in his arms. “You’ve already given a performance today.” He trailed a finger along her brow. “Why don’t we do this together?”

  Breathing in, she nodded.

  He gathered her close and bent to press a kiss behind her ear. She shivered and clutched him tighter. Murmuring sweet words and tender noises of appreciation, he made his way down over her bodice, then lower, shifting positions until he knelt before her, his hands on her hips.

  She steadied herself with one hand on his shoulder and took her skirts in her other hand.

  Sitting back on his haunches, he ran a hand behind her leg and urged her to rest the foot of her injured leg on his thigh. “Take your time,” he said quietly.

  She nodded, paused, then began to hike her skirts up on that side.

  He watched the determination and the resolve on her face until her hems reached her knee, then he looked down.

  Even through her stocking, and without comparing this leg to her sturdy one, he could see that this limb was thin. The first sign of damage began beneath her knee, where the shinbone extended outward at an awkward angle before turning sharply inward. Her walking boot had a sole that was several inches thick.

  “This leg is slightly shorter,” she explained. “The boot helps keep my gait even. Will you remove it?”

  He did, and revealed an ankle that looked slightly tilted and uneven and a small, slender foot.

  He looked frankly up at her. “Honestly, it’s not half so bad as I feared. Does it pain you, still?”

  “Occasionally. Most often when the weather is going to turn bad. It aches, then.” She sighed. “Or in all the dreaded turns in the cursed dancing.”

  “I resent every moment of pain or distress it’s ever caused you. I wish I could ensure that you never have another.”

  “You cannot.” She raised a brow at him. “But you can ensure that my next few moments are filled with pleasure.”

  “Few moments?” he repeated in mock indignation. “Give me some credit, please!” And he stood suddenly, and swept her up into his arms and laid her down upon the waiting pallet.

  She was still laughing when he kissed her, and it filled him with . . . something beyond joy. She grabbed two fistfuls of his shirt and waistcoat and pulled him closer.

  The desire came quickly this time and hit them both hard. Their mouths and tongues dueled, their kisses surging deep and frantic. They broke apart again and again as they removed clothes from each other, and came back together again.

  Finally, he was bare and she was too, save for her stockings. He let them be and filled his hands with her breasts and gave a happy sigh. Her head went back and he settled in to lick and tease her taut nipples. Several minutes of that highly pleasurable activity left her panting, but she eventually put her hands on his chest and pushed him back.

  “We’re in the light. You’ve seen me. Now, I want to see you.” He held himself above her while her fingers roamed his chest and explored up and over his shoulders. “You look like you could hold the weight of the world alone, Keswick, but I want you to know, you never have to.”

  She wriggled then, sitting up and urging him to lie back beneath her. He shifted carefully, taking care to support her and they ended with her straddling his thighs, while his cock bobbed happily before hers.

  She bit her lip and eyed it.

  “Touch it, if you like.” He tried to keep any hint of order—or begging—from his tone.

  “Would you mind?”

  ‘No,” he said on a strangled laugh. “I would love it if you put your hands on me, Glory.”

  She did and her cool, little fingertips drifted softly over him, like dandelion fluff in the wind, touching him up and down his shaft, exploring ridges and smoothing over the head, before reaching down to cup his scrotum.

  “Harder,” he asked in a whisper, and took her hand in his to show her how to stroke him. Then he leaned back and groaned while his cock grew as tall and hard as a post.

  “Would you like me to put my mouth on it?”

  He stilled. “What do you know about that? How do you know about it?”

  “Lucy showed me where the naughty books are hidden in the library.”

  He lifted his head. “Tensford has naughty books in the library?”

  “I don’t think he knows about them. They have been there a long time, it seems. But the servants know they are there.” She paused. “At least the lower servants. I doubt the housekeeper would sanction them staying.”

  He gave a heartfelt groan. “Please do not discuss the housekeeper while you . . .” He gave a nod to her hand still wrapped around him.

  She shrugged. “In any case, Lucy showed me, since I’d already seen one, or so she believed. She said I might find answers to my questions.” She moved her hand again. “It only gave me more questions, though. Do men really like that? The thing with mouths?”

  “Yes.” Heroically, he managed not to sound over-eager.

  “And women enjoy doing it?”

  “Some do.”

  “And woman enjoy . . . when the favor is returned?”

  He raised a brow at her. “The women I’m with, do so.”

  Her grip tightened, and he winced, laughing. “Or at least, I believe they do.”

  She let go of him, braced her hands on his thighs, and started to move back.

  “Glory,” he began.

  “I want to try it.” She paused and looked up at him. “Do you object?”

  He stared at her, naked and beautiful and eager to please and be pleased, and he sent silent thanks up to anyone who might be listening. He shook his head and watched avidly while she leaned over him. Experimentally, she moved closer and ran her tongue up the length of him. He clutched his fists in the blankets below and cursed right out loud.

  She grinned, clearly heady with her own power and hold over him, then she leaned in and took him in her mouth.

  His head dropped back and his hips thrust up. Her soft, sweet tongue explored and her mouth was so warm and wet. She showed every sign of enjoyment at his moans and he braced himself, letting her have her way while every muscle in him went tight and he fought not to lace his fingers in her hair.

  Hell and damnation, nothing had ever looked or felt so good as her mouth moving over him, while stray locks of her hair fell forward to caress his skin.

  She sat up suddenly and wiped her lip in a delicate motion. “I think I should like to—”

  She never finished the sentence. He surged up and clasped her against him, spinning her around an
d beneath him in one smooth move. He moved between her thighs and reached down to stroke her wet sex.

  “Oh, yes,” she said on a groan. “That will do, as well.”

  He stroked harder, allowing her whimpers and movements to set the pace. Gradually he increased both, until her pleasure was climbing and she began to make small sounds of urgency.

  He took his hand away and poised at her entrance. “Yes,” she said, wild and fervently.

  He eased his way in, clenching his teeth against the feel of her tight, hot embrace. Her eyes had gone wide. “Oh, heavens. Yes. Keswick . . .I didn’t . . . I want . . .”

  He would celebrate the sheer triumph of making her next to speechless, if he weren’t so caught up in the incredible feel of her.

  He moved carefully, but she didn’t wince or pause even a beat in her encouragement. And then he was in, slid all the way home, and it was like nothing he’d ever experienced.

  She made several unintelligible sounds, then let out a long sigh. “Oh, yes.”

  He thrust hard, then, and she moaned her approval. And he was lost in the rhythm, moving with quick purpose. She tossed and twisted beneath him, rising up to meet his every stroke. He could feel her reaching, reaching, so he put a hand between them and touched her slick nub and in just a moment the wave broke over her.

  “Yes, Keswick.” Her body arched against him and she gripped him hard. He gritted his teeth and held on while she shattered around him and then he was thrusting again, hard and deep, while she held on with her arms around his shoulders. Their bodies rocked and his hips drove faster. When he couldn’t hold back a moment longer, he twisted away and with a groan of agony and ecstasy, he spilled his release onto the blanket.

  And then he rolled back and collapsed onto her, his head resting on her breast.

  He came back to himself minutes later, when her fingers began to run lightly through his hair. “Well,” she said faintly. “No wonder they won’t let the young ladies get a taste of that.”

  He chuckled against her soft skin.

  “Was I . . . Was it . . .?” For the first time, she sounded hesitant.

  “It was utterly amazing.”

  “Oh, good.” Now she sounded a bit smug. “It felt so, to me, but I have no basis for comparison.”

  He tilted his head slightly so he could look at her with one eye. “Neither do I.”

  She flushed with pleasure.

  He closed his eyes again and turned them both to their sides so he could nestle around her. She sighed with satisfaction and relaxed into his embrace.

  He had no idea how long they lay there before she stirred. “We are going to be sun-browned in some very hard to explain places if we don’t get up and get dressed.”

  “If Lucy dares question you, lay the blame right at her door,” he said, yawning. But he sat up and they helped each other to dress and he obligingly crawled about, searching for lost hairpins.

  He was ready first, so he scurried back for the picnic basket and he perched next to her and ate brown bread while she sat, her arms stretched up and over her head, tucking her hair back into order. He leaned in and gave her a bite and a quick kiss—and it was such an intimate thing, almost more so than what they had just done to each other. It felt so right. So much like what he’d longed for his entire life. She felt like home. He closed his eyes against the rise of emotion.

  “Keswick?” She’d sensed his change in mood.

  “You said I changed you,” he said, low. “But you did the same to me. I fought the good fight. I tried to keep my distance. Told myself we could be calm, platonic, friendly.” He gave a wry laugh. “Foolish. Now it’s here. Everything I feared.”

  “Surely there’s nothing to fear,” she said quickly. “I haven’t asked for anything beyond today. It can be enough.”

  He shook his head. “This wanting is not going to go away.”

  “I know your father is an obstacle. Perhaps we could hide our attachment from him—”

  “Secret lovers?” he asked acidly.

  She gave a shiver. “It does sound thrilling,” she said hopefully.

  He kissed her hand. “I doubt we’d be able to hide how we feel.”

  “Likely not,” she said on a sigh. She folded her arms, the picture of belligerence. “I refuse to regret this.”

  “I won’t regret it either, just the fact that we cannot repeat it.”

  “I don’t want to lose you,” she said quietly.

  She still didn’t understand that they had never really belonged to each other. Because no matter how much she might affect him, one thing would never change. He would never allow her to pay the high price of caring for him.

  “I will see you this evening. We can talk and laugh, perhaps. But this is our true goodbye.” He kissed her hand. “And it has been lovely.”

  She heaved a sigh and nodded.

  “Let’s go back. And try not to get caught.”

  She climbed to her feet. “We won’t be caught. I’m not giving any one of those scoundrels an ounce more of triumph or satisfaction.”

  Chapter 19

  Mr. Simon escorted Glory down the hall and toward the ballroom, lending his arm as they moved in the wave of guests leaving dinner. They had been seated next to each other, where she answered his questions about how she and Miss Munroe and Keswick had literally fallen into the discovery of the new fossil specimen. He had many questions about the size of the boulder, and how far it had been from the cliff face and what sort of rocks had been collected around it. She answered them all as best as she could, and then found that she barely had to speak again at all.

  First, because Mr. Simon had a great many amusing stories about his travels for the British Museum and he clearly enjoyed telling them. And second, because he didn’t seem to have been fed well on any of them. He tucked into each course of Hope’s dinner with enthusiasm. Glory didn’t mind. It allowed her to blame his slow and careful ambulation on overindulgence instead of over-concern for her lameness.

  “Have you spoken with Miss Munroe or Lord Keswick yet, sir?” she asked as they passed through the flower-flanked doors.

  “Not yet. I have spoken with Lord Tensford and Mr. Sterne, and I’ve seen the specimen. It will make a wonderful addition to our collection. The guests should be quite impressed with the presentation tonight.”

  “Tensford will make sure of it,” she said wryly. “His enthusiasm is contagious.”

  “Yes. Mr. Stillwater has certainly caught the fossil bug. He had as many questions for me as I had for you. He lives in the county, nearby?”

  “Yes. His estate lies about ten miles away, I believe. I did see him speaking to you quite seriously in the parlor, before dinner.”

  “I didn’t mind. It’s always a pleasure to talk with someone with shared interests. Mr. Stillwater meant to go straight to the room where Sterne is watching over the fossil after dinner. He said he wants to examine it thoroughly before he has to fight the crowd. He certainly seems quite knowledgeable.” He grinned and gave her a gallant bow. “Although, of course, the conversation was not nearly so enjoyable as talking with a lovely lady like you.”

  She smiled her thanks. She and Lucy had made a real effort tonight, and she knew she looked well. Her under gown was one of simple elegance, with detailed white-on-white embroidery, while her over gown was of shot-silk in her favorite color of bluish green. The colors changed with every shift of the light and perfectly set off her skin and hair.

  Nearly everyone smiled and nodded as she passed, which felt remarkably gratifying. At least, it would if she didn’t know it was all due to Keswick.

  He had not been present at dinner. Clearly Hope had known that he would not attend, as there was no embarrassingly empty place at the table.

  Glory did not crane her neck to look for him, although she was sorely tempted. She kept her attention on Mr. Simon, and tried not to debate whether finding Keswick here would be worse than not.

  On the one hand, she ached to think that this
afternoon had been their final goodbye. On the other, she knew she would also ache to see him tonight, to act calm and collected as he smiled, perhaps flirted, and definitely danced with other women—or any woman who was not her.

  She was destined for misery either way, it seemed.

  They passed by Miss Vernon, who stared, but did not speak. Glory thought the sour look she cast her way made her pale yellow silk resemble curdled milk instead of springtime blossoms. She walked past, then stopped and looked over her shoulder. “What a shame, Miss Vernon, that you did not bring a pair of long gloves on your journey north.”

  The other girl gasped and clapped a hand over the unsightly welt on her arm. “Well, I told you the shopping would be highly inadequate in your tiny excuse for a village,” she sneered. “There was not a pair to be found anywhere.”

  Glory merely smiled. She knew there had been none available. She’d sent Lucy down last evening to buy up every single pair.

  She gave the girl a sympathetic look and walked on.

  “There is my spot, Mr. Simon.” Hope had made sure that there were chairs scattered throughout the ballroom, but Glory knew this one had the best view of the room. “You may leave me here, but I urge you to go over and speak to Miss Munroe. She will likely be very busy dancing, soon.”

  “Which is she?” he asked, looking around.

  “There, the very pretty girl in pink. I know she is looking forward to speaking with you. She is very interested in the natural sciences, you see.”

  “Is that so?” He held the chair for her and bowed over her hand. “Thank you for you company at dinner, my lady. I have greatly enjoyed it.”

  He turned to go, but found his path suddenly blocked.

  “Good evening, Lady Glory.” Lady Tresham smiled at Mr. Simon like a cat that had just scented prey. “Won’t you introduce me to your friend?”

  Glory made the introductions.

  “If you know of someone available for the opening dance, Lady Glory, please let me know. I’ve somehow failed to engage a partner for that one.” She smiled at Glory, looked at poor Mr. Simon through her lashes, and turned to go.