The Passionate Love of a Rake: HarperImpulse Historical Romance

by Jane Lark

  “Robert,” she breathed as another wave rose.

  His hands pressed into the mattress, supporting his weight and making the movement in his hips more precise and controlled.

  Her fingers fell to grip the muscle at his waist.

  “You are holding me as though you think the tide will wash you away.” His gaze held hers, the brown depths full of passion, but there was laughter, too.

  “It may.” She bit her lip and her head titled back into the pillow as her feet pressed into the mattress and her toes curled. Another shattering release sent her adrift.

  She heard him laugh lightly from far away as he changed the tempo of his movement to a slight pulsing beat half inside her.

  “Are you trying to drive me mad?” she cried when he suddenly withdrew.

  “When I have been insane for you forever, I think it fair.”

  “Ahh, Robert.” Her fingers clawed into his hips and his movement quickened and deepened.

  They tumbled together at the end and he cried out.

  After a moment, he rolled away and pulled her with him, his hand running over her hair. “I love you.”

  “I know,” she answered, “and I you, which is a good thing as we are married now. You cannot turn me out.”

  He laughed. “I would never want to, Jane.” His fingers brushed her hair behind her ear.

  For a little while they lay there in each other's arms, talking, remembering their life together years ago. Then Robert pressed her back with one long kiss, and began all over again.

  As she lay back, his kiss moved lower, to her breast.

  She sighed and arched.

  His fingers began their skilled manipulation and his mouth captured her nipple in its warmth.

  She felt so loved.

  Her hands settled on Robert’s hair as she watched him kiss her breast, while his fingers caressed her internal planes. She captured every feeling and held on to it, then cupped his face and pulled his mouth back to hers as, already, she felt her first crest break.

  He kissed her hard on the lips for a moment then pulled back and knelt between her legs, resting back on to his heels as his hands laid on her parted thighs.

  She watched him hesitate, as though he felt the awe that she felt too. They were married now, at last.

  The sun shining through the window of their inn room illuminated his beautiful body.

  His fingers gripped about her thighs and pulled, sliding her body down the bed to him, and then, as he knelt over her, and with her legs draped over his open thighs, he plundered her body in the pattern of hard thrust and slow withdrawal.

  His determination was exquisite agony. “You are too good at this,” she whispered as she felt it melt her bones.

  “You can never be too good, Jane,” he answered as he filled her to the brink, making her moan breathlessly and feel like weeping.

  When she cried out later, his thumb pressed into her mouth to silence her. “Not so loud, darling. There are other guests here, remember?”

  Biting down on his thumb, she fought hard to be silent as he took her over and over again, with delicious deliberation, tantalising her senses and driving her mad with need. Her fingers gripped his back and clawed, and the soles of her feet pressed on to his shins. Then she fell, toppling in ecstasy.

  With a low growl, as though spurred, he claimed her body in more urgent strokes which had lost all of their finesse.

  “There is no woman like you,” he said, as she hovered in that heaven-like place, her senses reeling. “I love you, Jane,” he ground out a moment before he broke, too. She pulled him down, bracing his head against her shoulder as they rode the storm of beautiful release together.

  Then he rolled to his side and pulled her head to his chest.

  She lay with a hand on his chest and her leg over his thighs, nestled under his arm, listening as his breaths slowed and he drifted into sleep.

  She was wide awake.

  She slipped from beneath his arm and crept off the bed, then collected her clothes and dressed.

  It was strange to be here with him, married to him, after all that had happened. She sat at the far end of the bed with her back against the bedpost, her knees tucked up and her arms wrapped about them, and watched him sleep.

  He lay there naked in all his glory, perfect and relaxed. He had no idea what he’d taken on.

  She did, and had grabbed this chance to claim the fate which should have been hers without any hesitation. But she should not have done it. It was selfish to involve him. They couldn’t really go back to how it was, or could have been, before she’d married Hector.

  What would happen next? She couldn’t guess. She’d live each day, each minute, waiting for Joshua’s orchestrated disaster to descend. He would do something in revenge. Of course he would.

  But she would not let it spoil her time with Robert. She was going to savour every second they had together and pray Robert would not be hurt.

  ~

  Sutton’s first assault came six days after Robert had helped Jane escape. He’d expected it to be physical, but it was not. It came in the form of a letter from Robert’s man of business. When it was set down on a silver tray in the private parlour they’d been using at the inn, Robert knew what it meant.

  Jane was busy buttering a piece of toast for him.

  Unwilling to trust his skill in dissembling, Robert folded the letter and shoved it into the inside pocket of his morning coat, disregarding it as though it was another note from his estate manager at Farnborough. He was determined to ignore it until he could find a moment alone to read the thing so Jane would not see his reaction. He knew she was waiting for this even though she hadn’t spoken of it.

  Since he’d shown her the announcement he’d posted in The Times, she’d lapsed into a withdrawn, thoughtful state.

  True, he could tease her out of it. She’d smile and laugh, but those sentiments died too quickly.

  She was worried and still living with clipped wings.

  He longed to see her fly again and she’d not be able to if she was involved in Sutton’s puppetry any longer. This was Robert’s problem now, not hers. He’d promised to protect her, and he would.

  To buy time to read the letter in private, he sent Jane and a maid from the inn on a shopping spree, with money to spend on hats, as many as she wished. It was a believable excuse to lose her for an hour, because she’d left everything at Sutton’s, and, so far, they’d only purchased a few gowns for her to wear while they stayed at the inn.

  Once she’d gone, he retreated to their chamber. It was the one place Jane escaped her trepidation in full. When they went to bed, she was free of all the chains of her past.

  He broke the seal and dropped to sit in a spindle chair near the fire as his eyes scanned his business man’s brief script. After a minute, his hand dropped as he thrust to his feet and crushed the letter in his fist.

  Jane had been right about Sutton’s influence. This was more than Robert had anticipated. The majority of shares in a shipping business Robert had invested in had been bought out by the Duke of Sutton, and he’d instantly closed the business down. Robert’s shares were now worthless. Obviously, Sutton was willing to toss away the fortune he’d forced out of Jane. If Sutton continued this tack, Robert would end up penniless in debtors’ jail.

  “But not yet,” Robert said aloud. At least he had the common sense to keep his investments spread over several different companies. He would have to go to London though, as Murray had requested. They’d have to move his other investments before Sutton played this trick again.

  Damn. Jane would know something was wrong when he told her they were going back. But she must know they could not hide away forever.

  His good intentions failed within hours though. The next strike came the following morning before he’d spoken to Jane of their impending trip to London, and it came in Jane’s company, when he was unprepared to present a false front. This time, it was a letter from his estate manager at Farnbor
ough. Foolishly, Robert thought it unimportant and slit it open.

  Someone, Malcolm wrote – Sutton, Robert thought – had bribed the bidders at the local corn market not to bid for wheat or barley from the Farnborough farms. The entire crop had been left unsold. This time, Robert could not control his anger. It did not just affect him. It affected the people who depended on him. He screwed up the letter in the palm of his hand and tossed the damn thing across the room with a growl.

  Jane, who was sitting in the chair opposite across the breakfast table, pouring them tea, looked up with a start, her eyes wide and her cheeks pale.

  He knew this was the moment she’d been dreading. He saw understanding written plainly on her face.

  “What is it?” Her voice as she posed the question said instead, what has he done? There was little point in denying who was behind it. She wouldn’t believe him if he did.

  Angry with himself now, too, for letting her see his reaction, Robert fought for control of the sneer which twisted his lips as he sought to alleviate some of her fear. “Nothing to worry about, Jane. I’ll handle it. Is my tea poured?” He reached for his cup.

  Jane put the teapot down and stood in physical protest, all indignant anger, even before her verbal protest began. “It is not nothing. It’s about Joshua. Tell me what he’s done. ”

  Desperately wanting to deny it, Robert hesitated, but his hesitation gave him away. He’d been right about his inability to dissemble. It seemed the only thing he was right about at the moment.

  “Jane, don’t worry, please. I will handle it—” he started, rising and stepping towards her. She stepped back out of reach, refusing consolation.

  “Just tell me what he’s done, Robert?” Her arms were at her sides. Her hands curled into fists.

  “I have to go back to London, that is all. Do you want to come? If you do not, I could take you to Farnborough first?”

  Her eyes suddenly shone with green fire, and she gripped his arm. “You will not dismiss me. I know what he can do. You do not. You will not call him out, will you?”

  He braced her slender waist. “Did I mention that? I am not even contemplating it, Jane. I’m going back to London to meet with my man of business. I need to secure my investments. He is threatening me financially, not physically. He is trying to bankrupt me. I need to return and ensure my investments are inaccessible.”

  He watched her fear abate a little as black lashes veiled her eyes and she took a breath.

  She opened her eyes again. “Tell me what he’s done?”

  If she must worry, he supposed, she ought to worry over reality and not imagined fears.

  “He’s closed down one of the businesses I invest in and left my shares worthless. It was only a small amount. I can suffer the loss.”

  “But there’s more?”

  He felt the world-weary façade he’d worn for nearly a decade slip over him. “That letter,” he said, indicating the crumpled note he’d thrown on the floor, “told me he’s stopped Farnborough’s grain crops from selling. No one will bid.”

  “Robert, no!” His hands gripped her arms before she could turn away, but she pulled free. “I should go back! They are innocent people! I’ll not have them hurt because of me!”

  “Do not be foolish. You cannot choose to go back anymore. You are naught to do with him now. Think how it would look – my wife going back to live in her previous son-in-law’s house? He would likely throw you out just to mock you. No, Jane, I will solve it. But I do need to go to London.”

  “I knew this would happen,” she whispered as he pulled her close and held her. Her anger appeared to ebb away.

  “Sweetheart, I know you did, and I did, too. But let’s not argue, it is precisely what he wants. I will compensate my tenants. I’ll not let Sutton win.”

  She pulled free and met his gaze.

  Her eyes were as sorrowful as the first time he’d seen her in London.

  “And what about next year? If you have nothing left, how will you compensate them? If his father would not even allow me freedom after his death, how do you think you can stop Joshua? You cannot. He won’t give in. That is why I left Farnborough. I should not have come back to you.”

  God, he wanted to shake her. Instead, his fingers cupped her cheek. “Would you rather I’d left you to your fate then? So you’d be the martyr and me the villain again? Forgive me, Jane, I am not playing that part any more. I can no more continue watching you suffer than you can bear watching Sutton attack me. Whatever the outcome, we face it together. Do you understand?”

  Her gaze did not meet his.

  “Jane, look at me? Sweetheart, do not draw back from me. Please?”

  She shut her eyes.

  This was the caged Jane. He could see it now. He’d looked straight through it in London. Behind those flashing eyes and her rigid spine was a lack of confidence and an undercurrent of constant fear, waiting for Sutton to claw her back.

  “I don’t care what Sutton does. I will not let him touch you. If we have to leave England to avoid him, I have properties abroad. Trust me, Jane.”

  Her eyelids lifted, and long, ebony eyelashes framed her emerald gaze. A cramp of sharp pain bit in his chest.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I suppose I am too used to being afraid of him and unused to being loved by you. I do trust you. I don’t want to lose you though.”

  “You won’t lose me, Jane. Rail at me, if you like. Ring a peel over my head, darling. Just stay, and you shan’t lose me. I don’t care about the money or even Farnborough. I do care for you.”

  She lifted to her toes and hugged him, her cheek against his.

  Chapter Nineteen

  They arrived in London three days later, just before midday, and, within an hour, Robert ascended the steps to his solicitor’s office in Mayfair, with Jane on his arm. A light rain fell in an unrelenting mist, coating her new scarlet pelisse and bonnet with a sheen of dew.

  The autumn weather had been in no mood to lift Robert’s spirits on their journey to town. It had rained persistently the entire time, turning roads to impassable muddy tracks, slowing them down. He’d not even stopped for tea on their arrival, but sent word straight to Murray that he would call within the hour.

  His fingers pressing beneath Jane’s elbow, Robert steered her through the front door as Murray’s clerk held it open. “My Lord, my Lady.” Etched on the glass was the title of the offices: “Messrs Murray and Bishop, Solicitors”.

  Jane had been nervous, silent, and frequently distracted since she’d discovered Sutton’s manoeuvrings, and her hard-won smiles were even rarer than before.

  The clerk stepped back and opened Murray’s office door for them.

  When they entered, Murray greeted Robert with raised eyebrows, having glanced at Jane. Then he remembered his manners and bowed, his cheeks colouring. This was Robert’s future – to watch other men’s appreciation of his wife, no matter their age.

  “My Lady, forgive me. I did not expect you.”

  No. He would not have. Robert had no wish to bring her, but she’d refused to be left behind. He’d only agreed because he did not feel comfortable leaving her alone.

  Having greeted Jane, Murray then shook Robert’s hand. “Lord Barrington, I am glad you were able to return. I’m afraid I have had to make some distasteful decisions, but there is little choice now; everything is here for you to sign.” Murray waved his hand at two chairs before his desk. “Do sit.” He then looked at the clerk. “Tea, I presume, Perkins.”

  “No. Thank you. Not on my behalf, Mr. Murray,” Jane stated, dropping to perch on the edge of one worn leather, winged armchair. Robert seated himself in the other and relaxed, feeling determined.

  Now he was here, he could cease to worry and start fighting.

  He looked at the clerk. “None for me either, Perkins. Thank you.”

  “Something stronger then, my Lord?” Murray asked, sitting down behind the desk.

  Robert shook his head. Be
side him, Jane glanced about the room.

  Murray was not a man of tidy habits. There were stacks of files everywhere, but Robert knew from experience, the man could lay his hand on anything he wished in seconds, despite the apparent mess.

  She was nervous.

  Robert realised, now, she’d been nervous all the time when they’d been in London before. Because of Sutton? Undoubtedly.

  God, I was such a blind idiot at Vauxhall.

  Jane’s profile was hidden behind the rim of her bonnet. All he could see was the spray of artificial rosebuds on it. But she sat with a straight back, her fingers gripping her reticule in her lap. She still had the look of a duchess.

  Robert reached across and clutched her fingers. The grip on her reticule eased, and he brought their joined hands to rest on the arm of his chair. It forced her to sit back a little, too.

  “My Lord,” the solicitor said, drawing Robert’s attention.

  Murray had steepled his fingers beneath his chin, and his elbows rested on the desk. “Obviously, you appreciate the urgency of the situation, else you would not be here, Lord Barrington. But I am sorry to say, I have agreed to sell a large proportion of your shares, certainly all those in companies where you do not have the majority holding. However, as I was certain you would not wish to leave your funds un-invested, I have found some commercial property for sale. If you purchase it, you can make your return in rents, my Lord. I am happy to secure it under a business name so the Duke of Sutton shall be in no position to trace it. If he discovered it, I do not doubt he would find some way to stop it from being let. He has already begun making moves on your other investments, so there is no time to lose.” With that, the man drew up a pile of papers which had been prepared for Robert to sign.

  Robert nodded. “What of my properties abroad?”

  “They are safe as far as I know, but the Duke of Sutton’s access to information seems to be without bounds.”

  Robert rubbed his chin feeling a need to expend energy which had no outlet. Jane’s fingers tightened about his other hand. Murray set down a quill and ink.