Romancing the Rake: Seven Regency Romances

by Tammy Andresen

  Her insides twisted. Even now, the memory of him pushing her away lanced through her and brought renewed pain.

  She wished she knew why he was adamant to have a relationship without a physical component. What had happened to him to make him so adamant? She knew he didn’t want to have an heir, but he’d not shared why. Had his mother been uncaring like her aunt? His father cold and cruel like her uncle?

  On the one hand, she knew why she’d been tempted to accept his offer. It allowed her a career. And to have children would make her professional life more difficult but as she only planned to be a composer, not impossible. But why would a viscount want a wife that he never touched?

  She sighed. She might not ever discover the answer. For all she knew, Dashlane had already left the area to return to his fake, rakish way of life.

  She’d seen him at Juliet’s wedding the day before. He’d not spoken a word to her. Drat.

  Cordelia lay back in the sand, her hands behind her head to protect her hair. She did not regret her choice. He wasn’t a man she could be so close to and never touch. But she had the impression that her future had just slipped through her fingers.

  “You look beautiful like that,” a deep voice called behind her.

  She didn’t glance his way. Her ears were finely tuned to sound and she’d recognize that rumble anywhere. “Thank you,” she answered. “I’d thought you’d be halfway to London by now.”

  He stopped. “How did you know I was thinking about returning?”

  She shrugged, keeping her eyes closed. “What would keep you here?”

  “Your father, for starters,” he said.

  The ground next to her vibrated as he settled down next to her. Awareness vibrated through her. “My father?” she asked, opening her eyes and turning her head toward Ash.

  He’d stretched out on his side next to her, his gaze locked on hers. “Yes. We’ve had an interesting discussion.”

  Her eyes widened. “You can’t trust him,” she said. “He wants to see me married.”

  He quirked a one-sided smile at that. “Thank you for the warning. It’s most appreciated.” Then he reached out and gently took her hand in his, threading their fingers together. “You’re right, of course. He was fishing for a son-in-law today. Threw lots of pretty things on his hook to try and catch me.”

  Cordelia’s lips parted in surprise. “Oh dear. If he did a better job than me, I’m going to be sorely disappointed.”

  That made him laugh. Not just a chuckle but a real honest-to-goodness laugh as his fingers tightened on hers. “You shouldn’t worry. He knows you’re the main attraction. He was just attempting to sweeten the pot.”

  She crinkled her brow. “Are we mixing metaphors now? I’m afraid you lost me.”

  He brought the back of her hand to his lips and brushed a soft kiss along her skin. Tingling started deep inside her. “My father, unlike yours, was a cruel man who used the rod to make certain I learned his lessons.”

  Her breath caught and she rolled up on her side, toward him, their bodies nearly touching. “How awful,” she answered. Without thought, she pressed her forehead to his, rubbing her nose to his. “No child deserves that sort of treatment.”

  He closed his eyes, as he pulled her tighter against him. “Do you really mean that?”

  “I do,” she said, her brow furrowing. Why would he think he would deserve cruelty from the very man who was supposed to protect him? She drew in a breath to ask when his mouth descended over hers. The kiss was hard and strong, full of passion and hurt, and she wrapped both her arms about his neck. She wanted to take that pain from him.

  He rolled onto his back, pulling her onto his chest as he continued kissing her, slanting her mouth open, their tongues dancing together.

  When he shifted back, she opened her eyes to see that his were crinkled in pain. “When I am with you, I want to forget my past. Be a new man.”

  She ran a finger from his forehead, to his cheek, and down to his chin. “I like the man you are right now.”

  He shuddered. “What does that mean?”

  Cordelia drew in a deep breath. This was important. “Let’s just say for argument’s sake that we married, a real marriage. Would you object to my career?”

  He widened his eyes as he held both her cheeks in his hands. “No.”

  She shook her head in his hands. “Do you understand how rare that is? A man who is comfortable enough to allow me to have my own path? Not to mention that you are fun and kind, handsome, and you like my father, and…” She stopped, looking down into his eyes. “I could search the whole of England and not find another you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  God as his witness, Ash loved this woman. Not just because Cordelia was stunning and talented. And not just because she saw the good in him. Though he had to confess, her tender insight and acceptance made his heart melt. So few people found value in him.

  But she made him want to be a better man. The sort of man that could raise happy children alongside a loving wife.

  Perhaps she never needed to know he was a bastard. It was a secret that only his dearest friends now knew. It made him ache to think of keeping something like that from her, but how could he tell her that he’d spent his childhood in the ashes of a whorehouse? She’d been so understanding up to this point, but would their budding relationship survive that knowledge? He’d spent his entire life hiding it for fear of what people might think.

  He kissed her again. To quiet his thoughts but also to remind himself that this might just be worth it. He’d protect her from his past. Give her the future she deserved. Because he wanted to believe that Mr. Moorish was right and that he could build a life with family and children, and not recreate his past but forge a new future.

  The heat of her seeped into his chest and he rolled them both over, tucking her underneath him to keep her warm.

  One of her legs wrapped around his, his pelvis settling between her legs. Even through her skirts, he could feel her heat, her softness, and he groaned as he kissed a trail down her neck, one of his hands sliding down the front of her dress.

  One of her breasts filled his palm and he groaned to feel her nipple strain against the fabric. He brushed the peak with his thumb, and she gasped, arching into the touch.

  White-hot need coursed through his body, settling into his manhood. He’d never wanted a woman more. The need to touch her prodded his hand lower until he reached the bottom of her skirts and then underneath and up her leg. Which was completely bare.

  He reared up, looking down at her even as a flush climbed her cheeks. “It’s hot,” she said in a strangled whisper.

  He grinned down at her, her silky-smooth flesh sliding against the much rougher skin of his hand. “It is. Very hot.”

  “When I play…” Her words died off.

  He let out a strangled groan. “If you tell me that you rarely wear pantaloons, I shall have to marry you immediately.”

  She stilled underneath him, her gaze holding his. “You’re teasing.”

  “I am not,” he said back, kissing her again. Slowly and sweetly until she was sighing, nothing but clay in his hands. “But we’ll have to come up with new terms. The old ones won’t do.”

  Her quiet moan pulsed through him even as he slid his hand higher, up her thigh, just brushing the tantalizing curls at the juncture of her legs.

  She was already wet, and he pressed his forehead to hers feeling her body shake as he ran his hand lightly over the sensitive flesh as she cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

  Never had another person’s pleasure been so important to him. He knew the light touch was important. Not only was she completely new to this, but it would ultimately make the end that much more exquisite.

  He had a powerful need to feel her finish. As though it would make him more worthy. He touched her again with just a bit more pressure and her whole body jumped.

  “Ash,” she cried, her eyes squeezing shut. “It feels so…”


  “I know,” he said, kissing a path across her cheek. “Let it happen. Don’t be afraid. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

  She gasped in a breath, tightening her grip around his neck, as she grabbed at his hair, her supple fingers pulling the strands.

  He smiled against her ear as her body tightened and he increased the tempo. She was drawing closer to her finish and he lifted up, wanting to watch her face in this moment.

  Her delicate features were tight, and her head thrashed back and forth, and then she crested her pleasure, breaking as she felt the waves of pleasure rocking through her.

  Watching her was stunning. He was half-tempted to start anew and see it all again, but her eyelashes fluttered open. “I have a question.”

  He stared down at her, running his thumb over her bottom lip. “Yes, love?”

  “Will that be part of our new agreement?”

  He leaned down and kissed her. “Most definitely.”

  “Me composing music to sell?” He saw her intake of breath.

  “Absolutely.”

  She reached up and touched his face. “Will you tell me more about your past? What has hurt you so?”

  He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Smart Cordelia. She always managed to find the one spot she shouldn’t.

  Cordelia watched him carefully. His face went from relaxed and open to closed in the blink of an eye.

  He hadn’t told her all that worried him about his past. Not even close. That much was clear. As much as she wanted this relationship for herself, she wanted it for him too. He needed someone he could trust, love, someone who would accept him.

  And, in time, she wanted to be that person. She knew now that her job would be to give him space and time to trust and she’d wait. Because that was what he needed.

  She reached up and lightly pushed him off her. As he rolled to the side, she followed. “Well then, tell me what it is you do want.”

  His brows came together as he stared at the darkening sky. “I want to find my future. A place I belong. In the past few days, I’ve realized I’ve been living in the past.”

  She nodded, her hand trailing down his body. She touched him in all the ways he’d touched her and was pleased to watch his breath quicken, feel his heartbeat speed up. “And how can I help you?” she asked, placing a kiss on his neck.

  He pulled her face into his hands, looking deep into her eyes. “Help?” he stared at her even as her hand moved lower across his abdomen. “You are my future.”

  She kissed him again, their tongues tangling together even as her hand met the hard ridge of his manhood. Pulling back, she looked down. “Oh.”

  He cocked a brow. “Oh what?”

  She licked her top lip. “I’ve no idea what to do. You’re going to have to direct me. I am a very apt student.”

  He gave a quick bark of laughter. “I’ve every confidence.”

  His fingers pulled at the laces of his breeches and he eased them down revealing the hard length of his masculinity. Without a word, she wrapped her hand about his hard length, testing the girth, the softness and hardness of his length. “Oh. It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

  He made a choking noise. “Most women do not think that.”

  Her fingers carefully worked up and down his length. “Really? What a fascinating instrument.”

  He placed his hand over hers, showing her how to work the length. “I’d question if that was a compliment from any woman but you. I know you love fascinating instruments.”

  She laughed a little, getting the feel of the movement, the way he liked her hand to slide over his skin.

  As she worked up and down, she could feel his body tighten. “Now tell me,” she whispered close to his ear. “What do you want from me? What is it you want for terms?”

  His eyes popped open as his hand once again came over hers. “Wicked girl. Are you taking advantage of me?”

  She smiled. “I do want an honest answer from you. I’ve made a rather particular list.”

  He moved with her. “I want a little girl who sits next to you at the pianoforte.”

  That answer shocked her and her very sure fingers stuttered.

  “I want you to give our children the patience and love I see you give to your family now.”

  Her heart stuttered and her list suddenly seemed…silly. “That’s such a lovely thought. My answers were so selfish. I…”

  He shook his head. “You have a gift, Cordelia. You’ve every right to protect that, in a world that would try to make you hide it away.” Their hands still moved together. “What I want is to live here and I want to start a new life.”

  She nodded, tears coming to her eyes as his hips pushed up into her hand. “I want to give you that new life.” She blinked away the tears, snuggling deeper into his side. “We’ll move into the cottage at first,” she said close to his ear. “Just the two of us.”

  He twisted his head, his lips finding hers. “Keep talking.”

  “You’ll work for my father and I’ll send off compositions until we’ve saved enough to buy a home of our own.”

  He paused, looking into her eyes. “I should have enough to give you a home already.”

  She shook her head. “Hush. You’ve given me plenty. More than I ever hoped for. The rest we’ll build together, and I’ll be happier about it because it wasn’t just yours but ours. Do you understand?”

  His body lifted, tightening, and he moaned, the sound ripping from his throat as he finished. When the spasms subsided, he rolled to his side, wrapping her in his arms. “I understand.” He swallowed. “And Cordelia…”

  “Yes?” she asked, kissing his lips.

  “I…”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ash swallowed again, a lump of emotion in his chest. He wanted to confess his…love. Against all odds, he’d fallen in love with this woman. But he wasn’t ready to expose such raw feelings. “Thank you for negotiating a new deal.”

  Cordelia squinted her eyes, and then he saw the flicker of pain tighten her features before she carefully hid it again, her face going blank. “Of course. We’ve decided to be the last men standing together, haven’t we?”

  She pulled away and rose from the sand, brushing at her skirts in the twilight. He knew he’d just hurt her. After what they’d shared, she’d expected words of affection.

  He sat up too, resting his arms on his knees. If his past didn’t scare her away, his present might. “Cordelia.”

  She kept brushing, not looking at him. “Yes?”

  “I’m honored that you’ll be my wife.”

  She gave a stiff nod, still working the sand from her skirts. “As am I.” Then she moved away from him, toward the house. “I should return. I’m already late for dinner and my family will wonder.”

  He pulled up his breeches, tucking his shirt back in. “I’ll escort you to the house.”

  “That isn’t—”

  “It is.” He ignored the sand. “I’ll talk to your father in the morning about our union, but I’d like to walk you to the house at least.”

  He should tell her. Tell her that in addition to thinking her the right choice for his wife, she was the choice of his heart. But he couldn’t unstick the words from his throat.

  His mother had handed him over to the cruelest person he’d ever known. And his father had forced him into basically being a criminal when he was a child who was too young to object. He’d hang if the world knew he was a bastard who’d taken the title.

  They started up the path silently climbing. There was so much he wanted to say but with every conversation they got closer to the real darkness he’d so carefully masked his entire life.

  She looked over at him several times, but didn’t speak either and they crested the bluff, walking up the drive to the house.

  Making their way along the drive, Ash squinted his eyes. “Whose carriage is that?”

  Cordelia stopped. She looked into the falling darkness. “Goodness. I don’t know.” Then a small smile touched her lips
. “Who knew life was going to get so…interesting. We’d been bumping along so quietly until you all arrived.”

  For some reason those words didn’t comfort him at all. Who was this new visitor? Not another lord? “Go inside. I’ll join you in a bit.”

  “Join me?” She turned to look at him, a question etched in the corners of her eyes.

  “Your father invited me.” He waved his hand. “But I don’t think we should arrive together. Not until I’ve formally asked for your hand.”

  She nodded as she slipped her hand from his, making her way not up the drive, but around the back to the kitchen.

  He continued meandering his way up the drive and stopped, looking up to the row of balconies along the music room. The doors were open, and the curtains blew softly in the breeze. He could see shadows and glimpses of people as they moved. Their laughter filtered into the night and his heart gave a decided throb. Did he belong with them too? Lord knew he wanted to.

  The night deepened around him until he finally stepped up to the porch, knocking on the door.

  He followed the butler upstairs, his heart beating faster as they reached the music room.

  The other man opened the doors, announcing Ash’s arrival. Making his way into the room, he saw Cordelia already on the bench of her pianoforte, his jaw clenched as he took in her beautiful profile, her lovely face lost in the music.

  Mr. Moorish waved, and several other soft greetings called out, but he hardly heard them as his gaze landed on the newest visitor.

  The Baron of Balstead.

  His stomach turned even as his fingers curled into fists. There were rakes and then there were truly depraved men, and Balstead fell into the latter category. What was more, he was staring at Cordelia as though she were on the dinner menu.

  Balstead’s eyes were hungry, his chest puffed out, his hands gripping his own thighs.

  Several curse words rose to his lips as his mouth curled around them, holding them in. He’d never liked Balstead. Why had he ever agreed to go to a party at the man’s home? Because until he’d met Cordelia, nothing he did had actually mattered.