Rake Most Likely to Sin

by Bronwyn Scott

  And she liked it.

  More than liked it. She delighted in it. Her body, her cries, answering his heated rampage. He felt her hand move between them and his trousers came loose. He felt the warmth of her hand close around the length of his phallus, guiding him to her. He thrust, a piercing spear made all the sweeter for the roughness that replaced his usual finesse. She moved her hips with his, revelling in what this was: hard, honest sex and their bodies were starved for it.

  One thrust, two, then three; he could feel his body tighten, climax would be swift and powerful. Her hands pushed back his unruly hair, anchoring in its thickness, but it was her eyes, flaming with life, her face full of awe, that held all of his attention as he drove into her. Every speck of his being—mind and body—was riveted on this moment, on the exertion of full-body sex. He held nothing back. The muscles in his arms bulged with the effort of their responsibility. Then he came into her a final time and her body crested with his. He let the force of her pleasure overpower him, drown him along with the power of his own enjoyment. The old forbidden hope began to fire deep in his soul, stoked to slow life by the woman in his arms. This time would be different. He would make it so. Some way, somehow.

  Chapter Twenty

  Even in his own exhaustion, Brennan still held her, his arms wrapped beneath her bottom, keeping her securely balanced between his body and the wall, his phallus still lodged within her, a wondrous feeling all its own to keep him there. She selfishly had no desire to move.

  Patra moved her hands through Brennan’s hair, smoothing it back from his face, loving the feel of its thickness beneath her fingers. Brennan could reduce everything to the most common of denominators. Nothing mattered but this, but him.

  ‘Brennan,’ she murmured against his ear. ‘Why don’t you take me to bed?’

  Brennan’s chuckle was warm and sensual. She felt his remarkable body stir. ‘I was under the impression I already had.’ But he complied anyway, carrying her inside, laying her down and ‘taking her to bed’ just as she requested. In fact he ‘took her to bed’ twice over, one of those times with his mouth.

  * * *

  She would be worthless by dawn. Under other circumstances, Patra would not have particularly cared except that goats didn’t milk themselves and it seemed patently unfair that Brennan would sleep for twenty-minute intervals and wake up perfectly restored. He would look great in the morning, too, while she lay here wide awake, her mind going at full tilt. Dawn approached rapidly and sex could no longer hold reality at bay.

  She had no illusions about what had prompted Brennan’s rough, forthright possession tonight. He’d wanted to claim her, not just for himself and his own pride, but for her. He’d wanted her to know, wanted to mark her with his passion, and a most sensual brand it was, too. She was to be his and only his. He’d been a man in those moments of possessive sex and in the moments at the banquet when he’d fearlessly faced Castor Apollonius, not with a knife drawn in the heat of the moment, but with calculated rhetoric. His challenge had been premeditated, thought through. She had never loved him more than when he’d risen on her behalf and risked the truth. It took a far different sort of warrior to do what he’d done.

  Patra traced the lines of his face with her finger, the long ridge of his nose, the rise of his cheekbones, marvelling when he didn’t wake. She’d been wrong about him. In the beginning of their association, she’d thought him a boyish charmer. He was, but it wasn’t the sum of him, not by half. Brennan Carr might smile, might flirt, might enjoy life to its fullest and have a penchant for spontaneity, but he was a man when it came right down to it. Not only because he could screw the hell out of her against a wall, on a beach or in a hammock, or in the ruins of a stone fort, but because he had an enormous capacity for love, for rightness and he’d chosen to bestow it on her. That choice had led them to this: a day of momentous decision. He stirred at last and groaned as if he, too, knew the question could not be avoided any longer: what did they do now?

  ‘Brennan, we have to talk.’ She settled her head in her favourite place against his shoulder. ‘It’s day two. After last night, Castor will be more determined than ever.’ It was the thought they had not given voice to last night in the midst of their celebration, but it had to be said now before it was too late. ‘You can be gone by breakfast.’ It killed her to say the words, but he would not die for her. He was worth far too much to be wasted in a depraved man’s vendetta.

  Brennan reared up beside her, dislodging her from his shoulder. ‘You want me to leave? After last night? After calling the village to acknowledge their fears and face them, you want me to do just the opposite?’

  She sat up beside him. ‘Your fears aren’t here, Brennan.’ It had occurred to her in the hours she’d lain awake in the dark that he was devoted to Kardamyli not only because he’d found a place here where he could be himself, but also because he’d found a place to hide. If he lost Kardamyli, he’d lose his protection. ‘Your fears are in England, Brennan.’ It was hard to say the words to him. She didn’t want to send him away. Yes, she feared what would happen if he remained, if he didn’t best Castor. But she also worried what would happen if he remained here, if he never went home.

  ‘There are a lot of ways to lose someone, Brennan,’ she said softly. ‘If it isn’t Castor, it’s your past. If you don’t face what has driven you away in the first place, you will never accept your own worth. I think you will regret your choice if you don’t go home, Brennan.’ Her words sounded suspiciously akin to something he’d told her once.

  ‘I really don’t think now is the time to talk about my personal issues. We have a mad man on the loose,’ Brennan protested irritably. ‘We need to spend our time talking about how to face him, how to face our future.’

  Patra shook her head and held firm. ‘Last night, you helped me take the last steps to becoming truly free. I want to return the favour.’ She looked down at the sheet, pleating it between her fingers, her brow furrowing as she sought her words. ‘When I first decided I could be with you, I promised myself I would let you go at the first sign of trouble. I’ve obviously broken that promise. Then, when I decided I could have you until Castor came back, I made another promise. I promised myself I would make sure you knew that you were worthy of love. I will keep that promise and I will not cheat you of it at the last, not when you’re so close. If you don’t go back to England and test the man you’ve become here with me, you will never truly believe you’ve achieved it.’

  The silence stretched too long. Patra hazarded a look up. Brennan sat still. His voice was thick. ‘When my friends married, I envied them. They’d found women who understood them at their core. I always wondered what it would be like to be with someone who understood me, insecurities and all.’

  ‘How does it feel?’ Patra ventured.

  ‘Wonderful, awful,’ Brennan confessed. She wanted him to leave her? He still couldn’t get his head around the most important part of her message. Did she actually think there was even the slightest chance of that? What sort of man would that make him? Certainly not the sort of man he aspired to be and certainly not the sort of man he wanted her to think he was. Brennan cocked his head, his eyes steady on her. ‘No. I will not run from this knowing that I leave you behind, still under Apollonius’s power. More than that, I will not run from us. I will leave, but only if you come with me.’ He could face England if she was with him.

  He watched hope flicker in her eyes as she played with the idea of escaping. His hope rose, too. She hadn’t said no. ‘We could go to Siena, then on to Paris and England,’ Brennan thought out loud, planning their route, plotting where they’d have support, where maybe he could work for money for the next leg of the journey. His funds would run low.

  We. The little word was powerful and empowering. It was not a word they’d used between them. Always it had been him or her. He hadn’t quite grasped the depth of hi
s affections for her until he said that word out loud. He was willing to leave Kardamyli, his promised land, for her, to prove he was worthy of those affections. The reality of we was overwhelming for a man who had so recently eschewed commitment, but he embraced it, wanted to embrace it with her. ‘We could do it, Patra. I can work along the way,’ he assured her, but the hope in her eyes faltered.

  ‘It wouldn’t be enough,’ Patra argued. ‘As long as I’m alive, Castor will not stop.’

  ‘As long as you’re here, Castor won’t stop,’ Brennan amended. ‘Castor is committed to his cause. He won’t leave Greece, not even for you. It’s all the more reason to leave with me. It’s the only way.’ At least it was the only way he could see at the moment and there wasn’t a lot of time to plan. They would simply have to act. Unless, of course...

  A dark thought crossed his mind and he had to give voice to it before the point of no return was reached; it was only fair to both of them, but it would only hurt one of them. Him. His old insecurities rose. He hadn’t been enough.

  ‘Do you want to leave with me, Patra?’ Maybe all this talk of him leaving for his own good, his own development, had been a kind disguise for the truth. Maybe she loved him, but, like his father, didn’t love him quite enough in the end. He understood that words often didn’t measure up to the actions required of them. Weren’t his father’s haphazard promises proof enough of that? Understanding it didn’t soften the blow. He almost drew away when she touched his arm.

  ‘I think leaving with you is impetuous, Brennan.’ It wasn’t an outright rejection, but it was a warning that she was considering the costs of such rashness. She would be leaving behind her home, her entire adult life, even her country, everything she knew. In exchange, she would be thrust into a new world she’d never experienced, a new lifestyle. She would not have the comfort of a village around her, she would have only him. It was a daunting yet prideful realisation.

  Brennan sought to give her courage. ‘I am willing to give up Kardamyli for you, are you willing to give it up for me?’

  She hesitated, her eyes filled with caution. ‘That’s not fair. Our decisions are not the same. You’re leaving Kardamyli, but you have something to go back to. I’m not going back to anything. I am going forward, to nothing certain.’

  Dear lord, he was losing her. A thousand thoughts filled his head; what did it say about her feelings for him if she preferred to stay and take her chances with Apollonius? Was there a way to stay and survive Apollonius? Something he’d overlooked? ‘I’m not saying no, Brennan, but I need details. What happens to me if I walk out of here with you?’ She looked down at her hand on his arm, a light blush creeping up her cheeks. ‘In this part of the world, we have a saying that once you rescue someone, they’re yours for life. Make sure you want the responsibility.’

  ‘I do,’ Brennan said swiftly, without hesitation. ‘I want you, Patra. I will care for you, provide for you. I will be enough for both of us.’

  ‘That’s what you say now, maybe because it’s a convenient argument. You are in the throes of your Greek honeymoon.’ She stopped him with a finger to his lips, her eyes holding a warning. ‘I do not doubt it, but I will not be your mistress, Brennan. I will not be a woman you visit occasionally and tote around as your living souvenir of the Grand Tour.’

  ‘My mistress?’ He was doing this all wrong if that was what she thought. He’d never meant to convey their relationship would be like that. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t clear. That was not my intention.’ He climbed out of bed, and knelt before her on one knee and naked. ‘Will you be my wife, Patra? Marry me. Marry me before we leave. We can do it in secret if you have doubts.’

  ‘Your proposal is as impetuous as you are,’ she scolded but he could see the light return in her eyes, the twitch of her mouth as she tried not to smile.

  ‘And it’s as genuine,’ Brennan prompted. ‘I mean it, Patra. Marry me. Let me protect you with both my name and my body. Once the deed is done, it will be another barrier to Apollonius.’ It wasn’t a very good argument. Apollonius had already proved marriage didn’t stop a sword. But he would say anything to persuade her and the clock was running. The sun was already up.

  ‘A few weeks ago, you didn’t want to marry. You were looking to escape it, in fact, rather desperately,’ she challenged.

  Brennan gave her a lazy grin. ‘I hadn’t met you yet.’ He was slowly learning happiness wasn’t a place, it was a person. He wanted her to learn that same lesson and he wanted that person to be him with every fibre of his being. Was this what it had felt like for Nolan when Gianna had been faced with the decision to leave Venice? For Archer and Haviland when they had chosen to stay in Europe instead of going home? He wished he could make the decision for her, but he didn’t want her that way.

  Brennan leaned in to press a kiss against the pulse at her throat. She was close to capitulating, to seeing the necessity of his plan. He wasn’t above a reminder of the seductive variety to help that capitulation along. ‘What is there to stay for, Patra?’ he whispered.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Nothing that rivals the feel of your mouth on me. But that was no answer. One did not upend her life for a kiss, for sex. Those were not good reasons. A man might be able to do so. A woman had to be more practical. It seemed far too late for such considerations. Hadn’t things progressed further than that even if the time had been short? It was hard to believe so much could change in such a little time, after years of nothing.

  She’d always believed this affair would end with Brennan leaving, even before Castor had returned. She’d never envisioned it ending with her leaving. That was perhaps the real reason she stalled. She’d not lied. Leaving would be enormous for her. She’d never been anywhere outside the peninsula. However, if leaving was the only way to save him, perhaps then she could give herself permission to follow her heart. Saving him meant saving herself, too. He was offering her an escape. Brennan was right. What was here for her other than the known; the continued spectre of Castor Apollonius hovering over her life? What was there to stay for? She had no answer.

  She reached for Brennan and drew him up from the floor, her arms going about his neck, drawing his head down so their foreheads met. She was going to do it. Her pulse raced with the knowledge of it. She was going to accept all he offered. ‘All right, how do we do it?’

  Brennan grinned his triumph. ‘I have an idea. We’ll need a ruse.’

  Patra laughed in spite of the gravity of their situation. ‘Another ruse? Because the last one turned out so well?’ she teased. It had become quite complicated before it had become quite real.

  ‘Precisely my point.’ Brennan merely smiled and stole a peck of a kiss. ‘I think it turned out splendidly, my dear soon-to-be Mrs Brennan Carr.’ She liked the sound of that. A new name for a new life. Patra Tspiras would remain behind in Kardamyli. But Patra Carr would see the world, as exciting and frightening as the prospect was. And Brennan Carr would have the chance to defeat his demons.

  Brennan sobered. ‘Now that the important things are settled, let’s talk about the ruse. We’ll have to leave separately. I’ll depart first to satisfy Apollonius’s timeline. I’ll backtrack and we’ll meet at St Spyridon. Here’s how we’ll do it...’

  * * *

  Castor Apollonius watched Konstantine Zabros’s fishing boat sail out of the harbour in the late morning, a smug smile playing on his lips. Patra had done it. She’d got the intruding Englishman to leave, even after his rather impassioned speech at the banquet. Castor had been worried the man meant to stay. It wouldn’t have changed the outcome. The Englishman would still end up dead, it would have just been more difficult.

  He wondered if it galled her to know she’d helped him by getting her lover to leave. But Patra had come through. She’d always been the self-sacrificing sort, always willing to put others’ needs ahead of her own—Dimitri’s, the cau
se, all of it had come before herself. She would sacrifice her own happiness to see the Englishman safe. Castor liked it when people acted as he predicted. And Patra had. In itself, it was an interesting testament to how much she cared for Carr. Castor had not doubted her for a moment. Patra would never willingly risk someone’s life, even a stranger’s.

  Still, Castor felt the sting of it. The Englishman was no stranger and her choice was no random act of kindness. She loved Carr. He’d seen it in her face when she’d come to him, to persuade, to beg, to do whatever it took to save him. Then when she’d stood up last night and betrayed him with her accusations, and the Englishman had beamed at her as if she were an angel for trying to destroy him in front of the village. How that little outburst was going to play out remained to be seen. So far, there had been no volunteers for his journey to Athens, but the day was young and once the villagers realised Carr had told them not to run away from their fears and then he’d done just that, people would come around.

  In the meanwhile, Patra’s devotion to the Englishman disgusted him. She’d never looked at him the way she looked at Carr. She should look that way for him, she should be willing to beg for him, to eat phallic pastry for him. He would do anything for her. He’d killed for her, given her the freedom to choose him without guilt—didn’t that prove his devotion? And yet she’d rejected him. Not only had she rejected him, she’d replaced him with the upstart Englishman.

  He’d retaliated by giving her a cruel dilemma: did she love the man enough to send him away? Or would she let the Englishman die for her? She’d chosen wisely. Carr wasn’t for her. What had she been thinking in the first place? Carr was too young, too different. She should be thanking him for making her do it sooner rather than later. The Englishman was bound to break her heart eventually.