Page 57 of Her Rake Fiancé

Jane didn’t say anything, only tugged him past the door to the study, then upstairs, and into the apartment she and Thorne shared. Despite the black night behind the windows, Jane’s room seemed like a haven of light with its pale walls and carpet and bedspread in the weak glow of the single gas lamp she’d lit.

With the door closed behind them, he inhaled the scent of her room, all flowery and her, in a desperate attempt to calm himself. His hands shook, his legs felt weak, and his head spun.

Jane put the gas lamp onto the tea table and faced him, her expression one of cautious concern. “You don’t mean it, do you? Thorne didn’t do it, remember? He didn’t do a thing to your brother. Spencer was gone from Portside before Reuben got there.”

Richard growled out and began pacing the room. “I do mean it, Jane. For months he allowed everyone to believe Spencer died!” he exclaimed as he waved his arms. “Most of all, us, his family. It must be a dozen days ago that we learned our brother could be alive and in trouble. Had we known sooner, we could have tried to rescue him. And now he could be at war, Jane! At war. Please tell me, how can I not blame Thorne?”

He stopped by the tea table, his knees feeling shaky. “He may be at war, Jane. And not of his own accord.”

Jane’s face softened as their eyes met. Slowly, she came to him, the skirts of her dress moving around her legs. The thunder in his chest that made him shake in this helpless rage and fear subsided as she approached. In the soft golden glow of the lamp, her gray eyes were a shade of smoky charcoal.

Gently, she took his face in both of her hands, the soft touch of her warm skin like a balm. He stared in the depths of her eyes, feeling like he could forget everything if she only kept looking at him like that.

“You’re shaking,” she said softly. “That must have been quite a shock.”

He didn’t reply, unable to move, afraid to spook her, craving more of her touch, wanting her right here…as close as possible. He inhaled the sweet, flowery scent of her skin, her hair, and could feel his blood beginning to boil—only not with anger anymore.

It was a shock. And so was his own reaction to the news. After all, the fact that Spencer may be alive and lost couldn’t mean anything good. Richard should have been prepared.

Perhaps it was the confirmation. The gruesome story. The fact that Spencer was so alone, without his family, somewhere out there risking his life…

“He’s my brother, Jane,” he murmured. “And he could now be shot at. Under cannon fire. Or drowning.”

She leaned forward, closer to him. So close he could feel soft warmth radiating from her. So close, it would only be the tiniest of movement to meet her lips with his own. His mouth went dry from wanting to do just that.

But it was she who moved first. She planted the softest, petallike kiss on his mouth. Then another one. And another. He stood perfectly still as the feathery caresses stirred a storm far greater than anything he’d just felt when he’d almost attacked Reuben. It took every inch of his self-restraint not to act on his desires.

“We don’t know that, Richard,” she whispered. “I understand how distressing this is for you. It will be all right. At least we now know where to look.”

She flattened her hand on his chest, and even through the multiple layers of clothing, he could feel her warm touch. It was this one thing that undid him. The last of his self-restraint snapped. The only thing that could keep his mind from imagining Spencer dead was her touch.

Her lips on his.

Her body under his.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, pressing his lips to hers, urging them to part with his tongue. To his surprise, she took him in as though she’d waited for him to do it for ages. Forgetting all caution, he devoured her.

His…he wanted to make her his. The woman he loved.

He froze for a sheer moment, pulled back just a little and looked into her dark, glossy eyes.

The woman he loved…

He loved her.

More than he had ever loved Lady Charity.

More than he could ever love anyone else.

The only one who had come into his life and made everything better. Made him a better man.

And all he could do now was hold on to her and pray she wouldn’t leave.

Gently, and yet with an insatiable need for her, he claimed her mouth again.

27

Richard was kissing her again… She was kissing him… Distantly, she thought she should stop this. There were so many reasons to pull back, put some space between them—most of all, her resolve to keep him at bay.