Page 80 of Cocky August Rake

Because she did want him—there was no use pretending otherwise—but she didn’t want him… like that.

She wanted to make love with him.

Because this passionate, fascinating man had made her feel like… like more than what the world had decided she was. As though she deserved kindness. Choice. The simple, ordinary wants other women took for granted.

And if she were to draw him into a receiving room and use pleasure to change his mind, it would erase everything that had passed between them. Their walks. Their conversations. That almost-kiss in the carriage—something she couldn’t stop thinking about.

Dreaming about.

It would be as if those moments never happened.

And with each passing day, that possibility became harder to bear.

By the fourth morning, Rose was nearly mad with missing him. She’d even begun contemplating excuses to visit his ship when the note arrived.

Meet me at our place by the Serpentine at one.

Yours,

Reginald

Nine simple words.

He wanted to see her.

And Rose knew precisely where. Their quiet spot beside the Serpentine, where he’d shown her how to choose the flattest, smoothest stones and send them skipping across the water. They’d returned more than once. It was quiet there, peaceful.

Excitement shot through her.

But then she read it again, and the second time, fear washed over her.

Then once more, lingering over the word: Yours.

Everything is going to be fine, she reassured herself as she dressed with ridiculous care. Nothing seductive. A pale blue walking gown, a modest bonnet, and gloves that covered nearly every inch of skin.

Yet again, she felt like one of those ridiculous Mayfair debutantes preparing to meet a gentleman under the eye of an anxious mama.

Only Rose had no mama.

Nor would she be accompanied by a chaperone.

By the time the carriage dropped her near the appointed path, the butterflies in her stomach felt more like grasshoppers.

What was she even doing? Even if he didn’t close The Domus, he’d eventually sail away on his ship.

How was she ever going to return to her old life after this?

The thought of entertaining clients… of having to don the wigs, the paint, the mask, and be intimate with anyone but Reginald iced the blood in her veins.

But she was going to have to. All of this was only temporary. Wasn’t it?

And being with him, believing the way he made her feel?

It was dangerous.

Unless…

Perhaps he meant to offer her a special arrangement. His protection. A place as his mistress once The Domus closed.