by Allison Lane
Helen drifted on a sea of pleasure, scarcely able to think as Rafe caressed her inside and out. Even her most lascivious dreams hadn’t prepared her for the joy of his lovemaking. His voice whispered in her ear, urging her excitement higher. Sparks skittered under her skin. Not until brushing his bandaged shoulder evoked a groan did she remember.
“You need rest, Rafe.”
“Not as much as I need you.” He thrust harder, deeper, drawing her gasp. “There is no pain. Only pleasure – a greedy lust for more. I’ll never have enough of you.”
She bit back a moan. “But your shoulder—”
“Is fine.” A kiss stopped another protest. “Never tell a rake he is too wounded to make love, sweetheart. Not even a reformed rake. I’ll be at least a week dead before I stop needing you.” Laughter threaded his voice.
She subsided, relinquishing the reins to his practiced hands. Tension mounted as he drove deeper. Blood roared through her ears. Sensations built, whirling, colliding, and overrunning one another until she could no longer identify sources. Deep kisses turned her brain to mush.
“More,” she gasped. “Faster. Harder. Can’t stand—”
“Easy, love. Savor the moment. This time will be even better.”
His body begged for release, but he couldn’t end it yet. Touching Helen was the greatest thrill of his life. They were more powerful together than apart, a single entity that could accomplish anything.
He held her trembling on the edge, his gaze trapped in the passion swirling through her eyes. Sweat slickened his skin as he fought to prolong the pleasure. Tension built, clawing with need, burning white-hot to the point of pain. But not until she climaxed, screaming his name, did he finally let go, plunging into the abyss to share the final ecstasy as the world shattered in a blaze of light. United. Complete.
He would never be lonely again….
* * * *
Rafe had no idea how much time passed before he could summon the energy to open his eyes. Another climax like that would kill him. Perhaps Helen was right that he needed rest.
“Are you alive?” he gasped, pulling out.
“Barely.” She curled against him, taking care not to jostle his shoulder. “What about you?”
“Never better.” He kissed her. “Go to sleep, love. We have much to do come morning.”
“Like writing to my trustees.”
That wasn’t high on his list, but news of Steven’s arrest might make them more cooperative.
“We have to break the trust,” she murmured.
“No. Audley is yours. I meant it when I said I didn’t want it. The responsibility would interfere with my own pursuits.” He no longer cared about her fortune. They would argue, of course, for they were passionate people, but the weapon would be logic, and the confrontations would end in agreement – and probably lust. His shaft twitched in expectation, but he willed it down.
“I will enjoy managing Audley, but you need to own it.” She shifted closer.
Wide awake, he pulled back to stare at her. “Why?”
Green eyes stared back. “You want a seat in Commons.”
“Yes, but—”
“Audley has a seat, but only if someone votes for you.”
“I don’t see—”
“Rafe. There is only one landowner in this borough. Not a single shopkeeper has enough assets to qualify. So I’m it, but females can’t vote. The trust makes no provision for filling vacant seats.”
He shook his head. She was right. Without a male landowner to cast a ballot, the seat would be filled by Parliamentary appointment – of a Tory. But he could not take advantage of her newfound trust. “Think about it for a few days, sweetheart.”
“If you insist, but I won’t change my mind. I’d rather you handled the investments anyway. And I trust you.”
“As I trust you. Now and forever.”
“I’m glad. Now go to sleep.”
He pulled her against him, turning her so his shaft nestled against her buttocks and his hand cupped a breast. Her hair brushed his face, enveloping him in her scent.
How had he been so lucky? Fate was a mysterious force, sometimes rewarding the most appalling stupidity.
Many thanks to the wonderful members of the Beau Monde and the Regency loops who collectively know everything about the Regency period and selflessly share that information with others.
Copyright © 2004 by Susan Ann Pace
Originally published by Signet Regency (0451210956)
Electronically published in 2007 by Belgrave House
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
