The Love of a Rake

by Linda Rae Sande

  “And I do apologize for that, my lady, but ... I am led to believe it hurts just the one time, so ... so now you’ve got the painful part all out of the way,” he replied with a rather proud nod. “So the next time won’t be so bad. Won’t be bad at all,” he amended, his face screwing up as he realized she was angry. Angrier than she had been.

  Eleanor blinked. She blinked again as she slowly shook her head. “Led to believe? Do you expect me to believe I’m the first ... virgin you’ve ever ... pricked?”

  It was Charles’ turn to blink. “As a matter of fact, yes, you are my first,” he claimed, not having to give it a second thought. He was quite sure he had never before taken a virgin to his bed.

  Or hers.

  “And the term is really plowed, but I wouldn’t expect a virgin to know such a thing.”

  Eleanor’s eyes widened again.

  Would the horrors never cease?

  “You consider me a .... a wheat field?” she asked in a hoarse whisper, wondering how the term ‘plowed’ ever came to represent what he had done to her the night before.

  The earl repositioned himself atop her just a bit, wanting to be sure she wouldn’t notice the topic of their discussion trying to plow its way back into her. And ‘plow’ was definitely the wrong term, he considered. ‘Seeding’ was the more appropriate term, although he knew it would never catch on as a popular word to describe what he wanted to be doing to her just then.

  He wondered if she would notice his seed drill attempting to make its way back into her.

  She noticed.

  “What ...? Are you ...?” Her eyes widened again and she attempted to squirm out from beneath him. With his legs betwixt hers and his rather wide arms anchored into the mattress on either side of her torso, she finally gave up. Tears threatened once again until she found him staring at her, his brows furrowed and his eyes filled with remorse.

  “I am sorry about what happened,” he whispered. “Truly. And I meant no offense with the term ‘plowed’. It’s ...” He shook his head. “Crass and wholly inappropriate to describe what I must admit was a rather ... special ... tumble.”

  Even before Eleanor could put voice to her new reason for being angry—didn’t the rake realize he was making her case for her?—Charles knew he had bungled his apology. “First and foremost, I am not attempting to ...” He was about to say, “plow” and then, “tumble” before he left out a sigh. “As much as I truly want the pleasure of your body again, I am ... abstaining,” he managed to say. “For now.”

  Eleanor stilled herself at his words, until his final two, and then she resumed her struggle to get out from under him. “You rake! Get off of me!” she said in a hoarse whisper. She thought about screaming and then worried that the only other person in the house might be his majordomo. The tall, gangly man would be of no assistance.

  Charles sighed and finally lifted himself to his hands and knees, but before Eleanor could wriggle out from beneath him, he pinned her with a strategically placed hand over one of her breasts. “You came here the same way all of Lucy’s harlots do,” he said quietly. “How was I to know ..?”

  “All?” Eleanor repeated in horror. “How many ... how many have you ..?” She was about to say “plowed” but thought better of it.

  His head dropping so his lips could reach the breast he wasn’t holding, Charles kissed it, secretly satisfied at Eleanor’s sudden jerk and inhalation of breath. “I ... I don’t know. I certainly don’t keep track. I’m a rake, you see.” At her body’s jerk beneath him—not one caused by his fondling or his kisses but because she seemed determined to leave his bed—he added, “It’s not as if I carve a notch in my bedpost for every woman I bed.” He raised his head and pinned her with his gaze. “Although, I am thinking I should for you. I do not believe I have ever had such a satisfying evening with a woman.”

  Eleanor stared up at the earl, a bit stunned by his words.

  For a moment, she didn’t know whether to be incensed or proud.

  “Please, let me make this right,” he whispered. When Eleanor simply stared at him, her expression not giving away her immediate thoughts, he lowered his lips to hers and captured them in a light kiss.

  Never having been kissed, Eleanor held her breath as the earl’s lips slid over hers, as they seemed to suckle and lock onto hers until she was forced to breathe. Her chest rising a bit in the process, she was suddenly aware of how the palm of his hand pressed against her breast, of the skitters of pleasure that seemed to emanate from the tips of his fingers. When his lips left hers to trail down her cheek to her jaw line, she inhaled sharply. His hand moved to her other breast, his fingertips barely skimming her sensitive skin and sending darts of pleasure in every direction. By the time his kisses reached her throat and the top edge of her collarbone, Eleanor became aware of a slight throbbing at the apex of her thighs, at the very place where she felt a bit sore and yet still yearned for that magic touch he had provided the night before.

  Perhaps she had put voice to her thoughts, for Charles’ hand continued its journey of slight caresses, making its way down the front of her body, around one of her hipbones to slide along the top of her thigh, to delve between her legs and caress the tender flesh before finally—finally—pressing against the sensitive spot that seemed to throb as fast as her heart raced. At the very same moment, his lips captured one of her nipples, gently suckling it as his hand rubbed her, slow at first and then harder and faster as her breaths quickened until she seemed to fracture beneath him. Her cry of ecstasy was silenced by his hungry kiss. Her suddenly arched back forced her breasts against the front of his chest as he buried himself in her, his groan breaking the kiss as he gasped for air.

  The sudden sensation of fullness had Eleanor clenching on the intruder, gasping as she struggled to hang onto him. Her fingers dug into his sides, the pads sensing the play of hard muscle beneath his skin. The thought of “how dare he do this to me again?” warred with the thought of just how wonderful the feel of his hand in her most private place had been, of how the rolling waves of pleasure were still coursing through her body. At any moment, she was sure she would feel as spent as she suddenly felt alive.

  Although his thrusts seemed uncomfortable at first, she soon realized she could counter his forward thrusts with her own. His whispered “Yes” had her secretly pleased, his mouth covering her breast had her momentarily stunned, and when he suddenly stopped and moaned, she stilled her movements. Tendrils of pleasure passed through her lower body just as a wash of warmth filled her from within. One of his arms was suddenly beneath her, lifting her so the entire front of her body was pressed against his.

  “Zeus,” Charles murmured, his face buried into the space above her shoulder. “I have found my Aphrodite,” he whispered as he slowly allowed his body to settle atop hers. After kissing her temple, he drifted off to sleep.

  Eleanor stared at the ornate ceiling above, at once wondering just how she could have allowed him to do to her what he had done the night before and then wondering how she could have prevented him from doing so.

  Why hadn’t she fought him off? Put more voice to her objection? A skitter of pleasure darted beneath her skin, and she realized she had her answer.

  Nothing else had felt as wonderful as the pleasure she had just experienced. And it was all because of Lord Wakefield’s expert ministrations, his confident manner, his rather impressive manhood.

  Oh, but why couldn’t he be Arthur?

  She wondered if Sir Arthur Goodwin knew how to pleasure a woman like Lord Wakefield did. Wondered if he would find her ... what had Wakefield said? I’ve found my Aphrodite. She allowed a wan smile at the memory of how he had said it, as if he truly believed his words.

  He had probably already forgotten them, she was sure.

  Sighing, she turned her attention to the muscled shoulder just below her chin. A shiver passed through her body at the memory of how those muscles had moved beneath his skin as he held his body over hers, of how taut they appea
red at that moment just before ecstasy gripped him, before the rush of warmth filled her lower body. Her wan smile grew into a grin at the thought of the pleasure she had felt, his touch so sure and so perfectly placed. How did he know what to do? she wondered for a moment, the thought quickly replaced with the obvious reason.

  He was a rake.

  He bedded women several times a week—perhaps more than one a day! Of course, he would know how to pleasure a woman. How to keep her coming back to his bed for more. How to keep her in his bed, just as she realized he had succeeded with her, for she suddenly had no desire to leave his bed.

  Sighing again, Eleanor relaxed into the mattress and allowed sleep to take her once more.

  Chapter 11

  An Earl Admits a Mistake

  A bit later in the morning of September 15

  “I have to think you’re hoping for a boy,” Daniel said as he settled into one of the leather chairs in Grandby’s study, his niece alert and making bubbles as he held her in one arm.

  “I am hoping for a girl, I’ll have you know. But at this point, I don’t really care what it is as long as Adele ...” He allowed the sentence to trail off, worry evident on his brow. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose her,” he finally managed to get out, his attention turning to the baby he still held in his arms. “Geez, she’s a heavy little—”

  “Watch your language,” Daniel interrupted, thinking Grandby was about to say ‘bugger’.

  “Chit,” Grandby finished without missing a beat.

  “She’ll be fine,” Daniel said, aware one of his best friends was going through what he had gone through only a few weeks ago. At least he hadn’t had a chance to be worried for very long. Clarinda’s labor had gone so fast, there was barely time to send for the midwife.

  “We’ll never have intercourse again,” the older earl announced suddenly.

  Daniel blinked. “Yes, you will,” he said with a nod. “And, please, my nieces do have ears,” he added with a frown.

  “Have you?” Grandby asked.

  A bit confused by the question, Daniel had to think a moment. “Well, not yet, but we will. In a ... a few weeks,” he ventured. “The Norwick earldom needs an heir, and my wife is willing to have as many babies as it takes. She’s quite adamant when it comes to doing her duty,” Daniel said as he raised Dahlia to his shoulder. He wasn’t about to get another child on Clarinda anytime in the next year, but the Earl of Torrington didn’t need to know that he had a supply of French letters on order. Thank the gods he had a discreet importer seeing to it. Wellingham Imports might be better known for the unusual products they imported from countries all over the world, but sometimes their most prized products were made in England.

  Thanks to sheep.

  “Fuck duty,” Grandby said suddenly.

  “Grandby! Language!” Daniel nearly shouted, which had Dahlia suddenly fussing at his shoulder. He bounced her a bit, which seemed to settle the girl. Diana wasn’t as easily assuaged when Grandby tried to bounce her, though, her face screwing into an expression of unhappiness. She let out a cry.

  “I apologize,” Grandby said to the baby he held. “Please, don’t cry,” he added with a shake of his head.

  Diana blinked and stared at the man whose face filled her vision. She suddenly grinned, which had the man looking ever so startled.

  “You’ll do fine,” Daniel murmured, rather amazed at how Grandby was doing with Diana. “In fact, Clare wondered if you would agree to be the godfather for these two,” he said in a quiet voice.

  The earl stared at him a moment. “Are you sure? I can’t say as I did right by her when it came to you,” he replied after a pause. Although Clarinda had been his first goddaughter, he had helped her father see to it that she married David Fitzwilliam, older twin brother of Daniel, even though he was pretty sure she had been courted by Daniel. Given David and Daniel were identical twins, and Clarinda was barely allowed in the company of Daniel for more than a few minutes at a time, she had accepted his suit and married David thinking he was Daniel.

  When David died in a horrible traffic accident earlier in the year, Daniel had stepped in as earl—he was the rightful heir since neither of Clarinda’s babies turned out to be boys— and taken Clarinda as his wife despite her mourning period having just begun. “No one will notice,” Grandby had assured Clarinda, knowing she was due to give birth in the late summer. “The ton has a short memory, and the two men look so much alike, most won’t even realize David has perished,” he said.

  Daniel’s head jerked up at Grandby’s question and comment. “Whatever do you mean, ‘you didn’t do right by her’?” he asked in surprise.

  Grandby gave a shrug, which had Diana studying him with a furrowed blonde brow. He watched the baby’s face as he said, “I knew David was a rake. Knew he owned that brothel and gaming hell. But I also knew he needed to marry. He needed an heir—”

  “Which turned out to be me,” Daniel interrupted, his manner rather serious. Had Grandby undermined his attempt to marry Clarinda Anne Brotherton, the daughter of an earl? They had been in love back then—still were, in fact—which made her marriage to David cause a rift that would take years and their recent private wedding to mend.

  “True,” Grandby agreed. “But I knew that Clare’s father wanted her settled with a titled man.”

  Daniel stared at the Earl of Torrington for a long time, anger passing through him as he considered the hell he had gone through when he learned Clarinda had married David instead of him. Instead of the man who had courted her with pink roses and walks in Kensington Gardens and soft words and softer kisses. “Then it’s a good thing I still ended up with her,” Daniel said with a hint of menace.

  Milton Grandby regarded Daniel for a moment. “It is indeed,” he agreed. “I made a mistake with my first goddaughter, but I promise you, I did not and will not make the same mistake with any of my other goddaughters,” he vowed.

  “And what of your own daughter?” Clarinda asked as she stood in the threshold of the study, a blanket-wrapped baby held in her arms.

  “Why, I plan to send her to a nunnery ...”

  Grandby was suddenly on his feet, staring at Clarinda, the bundle in his own arms cooing in delight at the sound of her mother’s voice.

  “A girl?” Grandby whispered, his face splitting into a huge grin. “Let me trade with you,” he said as he hurried to collect his daughter from Clarinda while she took Diana from him.

  “Yes,” Clarinda hedged before she motioned for the midwife to join her. “And what of your heir?” she asked as she nodded to the bundle the midwife carried.

  Daniel, who had stood up upon his wife’s entrance into the room, noted how pale the other earl suddenly appeared and was ready to retrieve the baby from him should the older man faint.

  But Grandby’s face continued to betray his joy. “A boy?” he whispered, readjusting his daughter so he could take the baby boy into his other arm. “Jesus, Joseph and Mother Mary,” he murmured. He looked up to find Clarinda weeping. “Well, there will be none of that,” he said with a shake of his head. “Christ. I should take a trip to Ludgate Hill right now and buy every bauble in every jewelry store for my beloved wife, but before I go, I should like to see her. Is she ... is she well?” he asked in a whisper.

  Clarinda nodded. “She’s tired, of course. Sleeping now, in fact, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind being awakened by you and your children,” she added with a grin.

  Grandby nodded and took his leave of the study. “Help yourself to the brandy. And the champagne and whatever else you want,” he said as he made his way up the stairs with his prize possessions. “Hell, take everything!”

  Daniel frowned as he stood in the threshold of the study.

  “Language!” he called out.

  But the Earl of Torrington and his twins had already disappeared into the mistress suite.

  Daniel turned his attention to Clarinda, his brow furrowed so a fold of skin appeared between them. “How is
it he is able to carry both babes in his arms like that?” he asked. “It took me a week to be able to do that.”

  Clarinda reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “He’s had far more practice than you, my love. He has over twenty goddaughters, you know.”

  Daniel wasn’t about to counter her comment, but he was quite sure Grandby had never held a baby in his arms before that day. At least not recently if he had ever.

  “Well, I certainly have no intention of helping myself to a brandy given the early morning hour,” he commented, moving back into the study. “Champagne?” he suggested.

  Clarinda sighed as she settled into the leather sofa, Diana propped up so her head rested against her shoulder. “Despite the fact that it’s still ...” She dared a glance at the clock on the mantle. “Goodness, it’s not even ten o’clock!” she said in surprise.

  Prior to the arrival of her twins, she would normally still be abed. She thought of how her friend’s life was about to change. At least Adele would have a wet nurse—or two— to see to her babes. “I do believe a bit of celebration is in order. Grandby finally has his heir and the daughter he’s always wanted. Champagne sounds divine,” she finally murmured.

  Daniel gave her a knowing smile before lowering the babe he held onto the settee next to her mother. “I’ll see what I can find,” he offered, wondering if the butler was back in residence. Although the household had been rather quiet when they first arrived—no servants had greeted them at the door, nor had there been any footmen about—Daniel could hear voices outside the study.

  He disappeared for a moment and returned, holding a white parchment in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other.

  “What is that?” Clarinda asked as Daniel moved to the sideboard.

  He shook his head, attempting to read the note while he worked to free the cork from the bottle. “One of our footmen just brought it over. Apparently, it was delivered just after we left this morning.” The popping cork had both babies jerking with the sudden sound, their matching expressions of wonderment sending Clarinda into giggles. “It’s not bad news, I hope,” she said, sobering at the sudden thought.