Page 64 of Gone with the Rake

Art chuckled, and her skin erupted in gooseflesh. He knew what she wanted—he could see the hardened tip of her breast through the thin fabric of her threadbare undergarment. He moved lower and flicked his tongue over her nipple.

She moaned, arching her back and pressing herself into his mouth.

The library door crashed open with such force that several books tumbled from their shelves.

Lily let out a high-pitched scream.

Thorn moved instinctively, shielding her half-naked body with his own.

The Marquess of Wakefield, Thorn’s father, stood in the doorway, his massive frame casting a long shadow over the entwined couple. “What is the meaning of this?” His voice, cold as steel, sliced through the room.

“Father!” Thorn’s heart slammed against his ribs so hard he thought they might break. He grabbed his coat off the floor, covering Lily from his father’s view. Beneath him, Lily scrambled to button her bodice, her fingers trembling. Her cheeks, moments ago flushed with passion, now drained of all color.

Wakefield’s eyes narrowed to slits as he surveyed the scene—discarded books, rumpled carpet, discarded clothing… and his son lying on top of a young maid.

A muscle twitched in his jaw.

“Get. The. Hell. OUT!” His voice thundered through the room, each word louder than the last.

Lily stumbled to her feet, her legs unsteady, and bolted for the door. Thorn reached for her, but his fingers only grazed her wrist. “Lily, wait—”

But she was already at the door, tears welling in her eyes. She couldn’t look at him as she fled, squeezing past Wakefield’s imposing figure. The door clicked shut behind her—soft, final, and somehow more devastating than a slam.

Wakefield inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring. The veins in his neck bulged as he glared at his son.

“Have you lost your mind?” He stalked into the room, jabbing a finger at Thorn. “Do you not know better than to frolic with the maids? Find yourself a bar wench if you must, but don’t poison the well you’re drinking from!”

Thorn sat up, buttoning his shirt with deliberate slowness, struggling to control the tremor in his hands. “Who I associate with is none of your concern,” he answered, his voice low but firm.

“Oh, is it not?” Wakefield let out a brittle laugh. “Have you thought this through then, or are you thinking with your cock? What if she gets with child? A bastard from some nameless woman we can deal with—but not a maid. Do you have any idea what rumors that would start?”

“Rumors?” Thorn shot to his feet, stretching to his full height—a head taller than his father. “Is that what you’re afraid of?”

“What else should I care about?” Wakefield sneered. “You’re a young, strapping lad—have your fun if you must, but we don’t need her bringing a mutt into this world.”

“How dare you!” Thorn took a menacing step forward.

“How dare I care about your future?” Wakefield snapped. “That beggar girl is not worth jeopardizing your reputation.”

“Take care how you speak about the woman I love,” Thorn gritted out.

Wakefield laughed—short, sharp, and scornful. Not a reaction Thorn expected from his father.

“Oh, please.” His expression quickly twisted in disgust, as if he’d tasted something foul. “Don’t mistake this childish infatuation for love. In a week, you won’t even remember her name.”

“Her name is Lily,” Thorn bit out, his fists clenching at his sides. “And I’ve been in love with her for over a year if you must know! I plan to marry her once I turn one and twenty. But if she gets with child now, all the better—I can marry her sooner. Then you won’t be able to stop me.”

Wakefield’s expression turned to ice. “You are a foolish little boy.” Spittle flew from his lips. “Do you think this is some fairy tale? That you’ll marry your mousy little maid and prosper?” He stepped closer, jabbing a finger into Thorn’s chest. “What will you do when all your peers turn their backs on you? When not one respectable house will receive you? When your children are denied an education because you’ve been shunned from society?” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “And more importantly—how do you plan to survive when I cut you off? Will you live on her miserable pittance as a maid?”

“I shall work!” Thorn declared. And he would. He would do anything for Lily.

Wakefield’s cruel smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, yes? And what exactly will you do? Who will hire you for any respectable position when they find out you married a maid? Who will ever trust your judgment after that?” He gestured wildly around the opulent library. “Will you become a blacksmith? A carpenter? Do you even know how to hold a tool? Don’t be ridiculous. A viscount cannot marry a maid. And if you insist on continuing this farce of a relationship, I will disown you.” He paused, a calculating glint in his gaze. “Will your love survive that kind of hardship? Will she even want you without your money?”

“She will.” Thorn’s voice cracked, betraying his uncertainty. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple.

Wakefield arched a skeptical brow. “Truly? And while you’re off at college, unable to marry her until you reach your majority, and she is left jobless—will she still wait for you then?” He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his shadow engulfing his son. “Because if you don’t put an end to this nonsense, I will turn her and her mother out. And nobody will hire her once I’ve spread the word that she’s a whore.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Thorn’s face paled, his stomach twisting with dread.