Romancing the Rake: Seven Regency Romances

by Tammy Andresen

  “About earlier,” she whispered. Had she forgotten that while men fawned over her sisters, they never noticed her. Not ever.

  “You wish for a kiss. Just one so that you know what you’re giving up. And you want a rake to give it to you.”

  She didn’t bother to tell him she’d decided he wasn’t a rake. Not really. “I understand if you don’t wish to kiss me. I’m not as lovely as Ophelia or friendly as Juliet and I don’t have Bianca’s warmth or Adrianna’s strength.”

  He brought her up against his body, his other arm snaking about her back. “You’re just incredibly talented?”

  She gave a small laugh that held little humor. “That doesn’t make men fall in love.”

  His breath whispered across her cheek. “I’ve been afraid all evening that you’d figure me out, Cordelia Moorish. But, it turns out, I’m learning about you too. Are you certain you don’t want to marry? Or are you just afraid to fail?”

  “What?” She tried to pull away, but his arm was firm against her back. Because those words stung and though she hated to admit it, rang with a bit of truth.

  “You’re successful at music. It’s what you know.”

  She pushed against his chest. “That’s just mean.”

  “I’m not being mean,” he replied. “Any more than you were, poking at my father.”

  “Oh.” She stopped moving and gazed up at him. That was also an excellent point. She’d wanted to get to know him. Really know him. She wasn’t entirely certain why. He was just…fascinating. “Why ask then?”

  “Because.” He slid his hand up her back, making her skin pimple all along her arms. “You made a request and…” His lips just skimmed her forehead causing her to grab the lapels of his jacket as though she needed support. “You’ve made a request and if I am to fulfill it, I need to know what you really want and what you actually want out of it.”

  She tilted her chin up to look into his gaze, her knees getting weak. “Just a kiss. That’s all.”

  He shook his head. “What you want is so much more complicated than that. Everything about you is deliciously complicated, even I know that. Tell me the truth.”

  She sighed. He’d already learned more about her than anyone else ever. What was the harm in telling him all of it? “I want to know what it feels like to be wanted. To not be plain.” She slid her hands around his neck. “What it means to be swept out into the garden for a midnight meeting under the stars.” She let out a small sigh despite herself. “Thank you for that.”

  Ash knew he was going to kiss her. Desire was pooling in his loins even as her arms glided up his coat to thread about his neck.

  But more than he wanted to act on his own desire, he wanted her to understand she wasn’t plain at all. Never had a word fit a person less. “What do you want to be, if not plain?” he asked as his lips kissed a slow trail over her temple and down her cheek.

  “Powerful,” she said, her voice trembling. “Wanted.”

  “You don’t get that from your music?” he asked, his lips teasing down to her jaw.

  Her heart hammered against his chest. He could feel its rapid thud, his own speeding up to meet it.

  “I suppose. And I love music. But…” Her voice trailed off.

  He wanted to ask her but what? But his mouth had reached the corner of hers and he caught the subtle hints of her breath, sweet and savory, and laced with champagne and…need.

  He pressed his lips so lightly to hers; it almost wasn’t a kiss at all, except she shook, holding about his neck tighter.

  He lifted just above her and then kissed her again, firmer, harder, bringing her lips together before he repeated it all again. One of his hands cupped her cheek, her velvety skin caressing the rough calluses on his palm.

  Part of him wanted to give her more. Wished to part her lips and drink from her more fully. But this wasn’t about his desires but hers and so, instead, he tipped back. “There’s your kiss, sweetheart.”

  She looked up, her gaze unfocused, her lips puffy and dew covered. He groaned, using all his strength to resist dipping down and tasting her again.

  “That was…” She swallowed. “That was so much more than—”

  He dropped his head to hers. “I’m not your future, Cordelia. I tried to be clear on that point. But I hope I helped you choose yours. In some small way.”

  His hand was still on her cheek and she grasped his wrist. “Funny.”

  “What?” he asked despite himself. He’d meant his last words to end this interaction. He should return back to the village, the cottage he stayed in, and then leave Seabridge Gate in the morning. Because every second he stayed, the situation grew more dangerous. But rather than do any of that, he asked, “What’s funny?”

  She shook her head. “You don’t want anyone. I don’t want anyone. And yet here we are.”

  He leaned back. “I still don’t want anyone, Cordelia. I’ve made that clear, haven’t I?”

  “Yes,” she said, even as she pulled away. This time he let her. “You’ve made that clear.”

  He knew he’d just hurt her, and he was undoing some of what the kiss had given her. But he needed her to understand. This was not a forever bargain. It wasn’t even a tomorrow deal. This was just for tonight. “Don’t run away now. I’ve something to say.”

  She perched her hands on her hips as she straightened. “I don’t run away from problems, my lord.”

  “Ash,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “My name is Ash.”

  “Ash?” She tilted her head. “Is that for Dashlane?”

  “No,” he swallowed. “My father has nothing to do with that nickname.” Or perhaps he had everything to do with that nickname. The other women his mother had lived with had given it to him because he’d slept so close to the fire to keep warm during the long, cold winter nights.

  “I’ve a new bargain to propose to you,” she said softly. Cordelia moved closer to him, placing a hand on his crossed arms. She peered up at him. “I’ve told you my most intimate secret tonight, the one I’ve never even told my sisters. The one I hope no one ever knows.”

  His brows rose. “I see.” He did. Being plain was her big worry?

  “You can tell me yours, if you wish. I won’t judge. I’ll keep them for you.”

  He drew back, drawing in a sharp inhale. “No.” She didn’t understand the first thing about what she asked. A woman like this, sheltered, loved, couldn’t possibly understand the darkness of his past.

  “I can help you, if you let me.” Her other hand came to his waist.

  The words actually rushed to his lips. Just once, wouldn’t it be nice to share his father’s cruelty, the loss of his mother, the darkness of growing up in the ash. But if he told her…she’d push him away, or worse, she could use it against him. He looked away, not quite believing the words, but he needed a reason to push her away. Because he could never have her for his own.

  Chapter Five

  Cordelia woke to the sound of birds chirping out her window. Sitting up in bed, she realized the sun was high in the sky already.

  Her body flushed with heat as she thought about all she’d done with Dashlane the night before. What she’d told him about herself, what he’d shared with her…how they’d touched.

  Her fingers came to her lips. She’d asked for an experience, a chance to know what she might be missing, and she’d gotten it.

  Which had really created far more problems than the kiss had solved. First, if she were honest, she only wanted another. Her fingers slid down her chin. But she couldn’t have one. She’d meant every word about wanting to be a musician. And somehow, kissing him, feeling that passion, it made music itch in her fingers, buzz in her brain.

  But she also wanted to know more about him. There were hints of dark mystery about him and a hurt that truly made her want to wrap him in her arms and hold him close. He’d given her a great gift and somehow, it bound them.

  She rose from the bed and dressed, planning to go down to break
fast, but she turned right rather than left and headed to her pianoforte instead.

  Music was singing her in veins, thrumming to the beat of that kiss, and she needed to let it out before she ate.

  She burst into the music room, heading straight for her bench and settled herself down, playing one of her favorite concertos. Her body swayed to the music as her fingers flew across the keys. Was it her imagination or did every note sound crisper this morning? The highs held more passion, the lows more despair.

  By the time she finished, she was gasping for breath, a bead of sweat on her brow as her head dipped down, her chin resting on her chest.

  “That was stunning,” Ash said.

  She jumped from the bench swallowing a scream. What was he doing here? “You frightened me.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart.” He smiled from the other side of the settee, and tossing one arm over the top, she realized he was still in his formal jacket.

  “Did you...did you sleep on the settee last night?”

  He winced. “I’m afraid so. Though to be fair, I’m relatively certain your father suggested I stay.” He rubbed his head. “It turns out, I am afflicted with what I warned you to avoid. A terrible headache caused from too much alcohol.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “You were drinking with my father?”

  He shrugged. “I believe so.”

  “You’re a rake after all.” And she rose from the bench, taking his arm. “Come on. Let’s get you some breakfast.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll get some at the inn. We don’t want anyone seeing us together this morning. But I might need your help finding my way out.”

  Her hands came to her hips. “Just so we’re clear. Bringing you to breakfast is more suspicious than attempting to sneak you out?”

  He winced. “You make an excellent point.”

  “Come on. If my father invited you, you’ve nothing to fear.” And she tugged on his arm. That part of her that felt the need to care for him tugged now. He looked terrible, still handsome, but awful nonetheless. “Our cooks make an excellent eggs benedict.”

  He groaned, touching his stomach. “Please. That sounds awful.”

  She covered her mouth. “Porridge?”

  “Tea, first,” he said, combing his hair back and then stretching. “And I think that settee was too short.”

  “If my father invited you, he surely would have given you a bed.”

  “He did.” Ash shook his head. “But I came back down to the music room to—” He stopped. “And then I couldn’t find my way back.”

  Cordelia cocked an eyebrow. After their kiss, she’d excused herself from the party. She couldn’t socialize any more, she’d needed time to think everything through. Everything meaning handsome lords who kissed her in moonlit gardens.

  “Tea it is,” she said as they made their way into the breakfast room to find it…empty. “Well now.” The buffet was completely stocked but no one was there.

  He chuckled. “Apparently I wasn’t the only one who over-indulged.”

  She crossed and poured him a cup of tea, then gestured to a chair for him to sit. He did and Cordelia handed him the tea, returning to the buffet for porridge that she then sat in front of him. “Eat.”

  He groaned again and she patted his shoulder. A mistake. Fire shot through her and she pulled her hand away again.

  He didn’t seem to notice as he dipped his spoon in and took a bite, then another. “You’re right. That is better.”

  She nodded and then got food of her own, returning to the table. Sitting across from him, she picked at an egg, her mind too crowded with questions to actually eat. She glanced at him several times before he finally rubbed his forehead. “Whatever you want to ask, you might as well spit it out.”

  She snapped her jaw shut, surprised he’d known. “I don’t spit.”

  He smiled at that, a dimple showing on his cheek. “Of course, not. My apologies.”

  She leaned toward him. “And my questions are not for breakfast.”

  “No?” He set his spoon down, straightening in his chair.

  She shook her head. “I meant what I offered last night. You can tell me…anything.”

  Damn her and her beautiful brown eyes. His gut churned again but it wasn’t because of the champagne this time. He could never tell her about growing up in a whorehouse. About how his mother became ill. About how his father lost his real wife, and without an heir, had married his mum to make him legitimate.

  His stomach twisted. That sounded like a happy ending, but it wasn’t. Not even close. It was the beginning of hell.

  Rather than share any of that, he studied her face. The curve of her cheek, the tilt of her chin, the way her eyes sparkled in the morning light.

  For a moment, he wished he was a different man. One who deserved a beautiful, talented, pure wife.

  “You are too kind,” he answered, finally.

  “She is, is she not?” Her father appeared in the door and Ash said a silent prayer of thanks that he’d not said more.

  Cordelia twisted around to look at her father, a slight frown marking her lips. “Good morning. How do you fare?”

  He grimaced. “I’ll be all right.” He crossed to the buffet and began to heap piles of food onto a plate. Then turning, he crossed to the table and gave Dashlane a nudge on the shoulder before taking his own seat. “We certainly had fun last night.”

  Ash smiled at that. They had. “I dare say we could have used Miss Moorish’s skills at the pianoforte. Our singing left a bit to be desired.” The truth was, Ash had had a great deal of fun with Mr. Moorish. They’d talked and laughed and for a moment, Ash had wondered if this was what it was like to have a real father.

  Mr. Moorish chuckled. “A man always benefits from a woman’s company.”

  Cordelia sat straighter in her chair, her eyes casting down to the table. “In this case, I think it’s just my playing that was called for. My company is not my strongest suit.”

  “Nonsense,” her father waved his hand. “Your company is always wanted here and soon it will be wanted in London too.”

  “Soon? London?” she asked, her entire body going still.

  Her father nodded. “I was going to surprise you girls but the arrival of so many gentlemen interrupted my announcement. Your aunt, the countess, is taking you to London. You’ve missed the start of the season, of course. But you’ll catch most of it. And she’s even lined up some events for you to showcase your talents.”

  Cordelia swallowed, her hand gripping her fork going white. He knew the feeling. His stomach was turning again. He gave his head a shake. It wasn’t his business.

  “You mean play in a drawing room for lords lined up as potential husbands.” Cordelia’s voice had dropped low.

  “Precisely,” her father answered. “We can’t have you being the only unwed Moorish.”

  “Why not?” she fired back. “What’s wrong with remaining unwed?”

  Her father blinked several times. “You were meant to marry.”

  Cordelia rose from her seat and Ash had the urge to rise too, reach out and touch her. “I don’t want to marry. I want to be a musician.”

  Mr. Moorish rose as well, his mouth pinching. “You don’t know what you ask.”

  “I think I do,” she answered, straightening.

  He shook his head. “Your mother saved me, Cordelia. Try and entertain the possibility that you’d be happier married. At least try before you make your decision.”

  Those words reverberated through Ash. Just once he wished he could entertain being saved from his dark, troubled past.

  Chapter Six

  Cordelia stared at her father, completely aware of Ash’s silent presence.

  Ash was the one other person in the world who knew she did not wish to marry. Odd, he’d gotten to witness this conversation. The one where she was being shipped off to London like luggage. Not that she didn’t wish to go, but not like this. She wanted to go as a musician not as a debutante. “So, not only do
I not get a say in my own future, but I’m going to miss my sisters’ weddings. All four of them.”

  Her father winced at that. “They’ll understand. You’ve your own future to find.”

  Cordelia shook her head, fighting back tears that clouded her eyes. “And now, because they’ve all found husbands, I’ll have to go alone. With Aunt Mildred.” Not that there was anything wrong her aunt or her four dachshunds. But in truth, she loved her dogs and only tolerated her nieces.

  Her father leaned down, spreading his hands out on the table. “It won’t be that bad Cordelia. I know it would have been more fun if you’d all gone but—”

  “I don’t want to go,” she whispered because she couldn’t make any more sound come out of her throat. “I won’t go.”

  Her father looked to the table. “You will.”

  “Why?” she choked out, a single tear escaping her eye. She swatted it away, damning water for leaking out of her eyes now.

  “Because music is a beautiful hobby, but marriage is the backbone that life is built on.”

  “If I were a man,” she started, but her father rapped the table.

  “You would still marry,” he said, then straightened. “And you would have to utilize your skill to provide for your family. But still, it would be a means to an end.”

  Words crowded her mouth. Her father loved his business. It was not just a means to an end. “Plenty of people are passionate about their work.”

  Her father frowned. “And you will be passionate about your hobbies.”

  She stared at him. Her father rarely took a hard line on any topic and she’d been convinced he wouldn’t on this one. What had changed? She fisted her hands. “I’m not going.”

  “You’ll go,” he answered. “This is not a choice.”

  Cordelia turned and fled the room, not looking back at either man. She couldn’t. She ran blindly through the house and out to the back garden where she found herself in the exact spot she’d taken Ash the night before.

  She stopped just under the trees, looking to the center where he’d held her in his arms. She’d wanted to know what she’d be giving up last night. And he’d given her a taste of romance and passion.