Romancing the Rake: Seven Regency Romances

by Tammy Andresen

  But what was the man doing here now? Wasn’t he supposed to be hosting a sinful party? Balstead should return to his guests and leave the Moorish family alone.

  Ash would hang before he allowed that man to touch Cordelia.

  The thought surprised him, but he didn’t turn away from it. In fact, it straightened his spine, filling him with a certainty he’d never experienced in his entire life. Protecting Cordelia was more important to him than his own life.

  With that in mind, he made his way into the room and sat down next to Balstead.

  Cordelia finished her piece of music, sliding her fingers from the keys. She’d like to play all night, losing herself in the music. But her family would expect her to socialize.

  Lord Hartwell and Juliet had left for his country estate yesterday, taking a short repose as a newly married couple. Hartwell’s sister, Charlie, had stayed behind with her family to give them additional privacy.

  Cordelia liked the woman a great deal, and as the only other unattached female, she really ought to spend time with the lady, but her heart was in turmoil. Part of her wanted to celebrate the successes of today. Ash had asked her to marry him again. And this time, they’d touched one another, agreed to have a family, and a music career for her, a home for him.

  So why did that still seem hollow?

  She should be happy. Her agreement and the marriage to Ash was everything she’d thought she’d wanted.

  But looking at him now, as he slid into a seat next to their newest guest, she realized she wanted more. She wanted his heart and she wished to give him hers.

  She was in love with him.

  The frightening part was what she’d be willing to give up in order to make that a reality. She’d seen, in her mind, the picture he’d painted of a little girl sitting next to her on the bench of her pianoforte.

  It stole her breath how much she wanted that reality. A little girl or boy tucked to one side of her as Ash wrapped an arm about her from the other.

  When had this happened? And how did she gain his heart?

  She stood and the men in the room stood as well. His Grace, her father, Crestwood, and Craven. Balstead, their surprise guest, stood too and so did Ash, bumping his arm into the other man’s.

  Her eyebrows went up.

  “That was lovely,” Balstead called over the clapping. “You’ve a gift.”

  “Thank you,” she answered, watching Ash’s face turn to stone. His arm bumped Balstead’s again.

  “Dashlane,” Balstead drawled, looking over at Ash. “I do believe you’re getting sand on my arm.”

  In answer, Ash smiled, an angelic grin that looked for all the world innocent as could be as he used his arm to give Balstead a large pat on the back. “Took a walk on the beach. It’s good for the soul.”

  Cordelia might have worried as bits of sand fell from her own clothes that her family would realize they’d been on the beach together, but another curiosity had captured her thoughts. “You know each other?”

  Balstead nodded. “We run in the same crowds in London.” Then his gaze swept the room. “And I was hosting a party, but most of the guest list seems to have been waylaid in Seabridge Gate.”

  The men shuffled, eying each other, but only Ash responded. “Our apologies. We seem to have changed our plans for the next few weeks, and quite honestly, our entire futures. So you need not stay. Return to the guests you have and enjoy your festivities.”

  Balstead’s mouth thinned. “Most unfortunate.” Then he placed a smile on his lips. “I knew you lot were the marrying kind. Sisters even. How exciting.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking none too excited. “And you, Lady Charlotte. How do you find yourself here without your brother as chaperone?”

  Charlie cleared her throat. “My brother married Miss Juliet. They’ve left on their honeymoon.”

  “And now you’re all alone?” he asked, cocking a brow.

  “She isn’t alone.” Cordelia stepped toward the trio, her gaze meeting Balstead’s. “She’s part of our family now.”

  He scratched his chin. “So I see. And who are you to marry?” His gaze swept over her.

  She flushed, heat climbing in her cheeks. Her engagement was not yet public. And something in his knowing look made her very uncomfortable. She looked to Ash, whose cheek ticked with irritation.

  “I’m not engaged,” she said, her voice too soft to sound convincing.

  Ash made a rumbling noise as he crossed his arms over his chest. Balstead stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “There is sand on your hand.” He looked her over, his eyes narrowing. “And in your hair.”

  The heat spread down her neck and across her chest. “I don’t know…” But the lie died on her lips.

  Charlie’s hand brushed her arm. “Lord Balstead,” she interrupted, giving the man a large smile. “Since you are here, and you’ve missed your party, we must all spend the evening together, celebrating all the happy news we’ve had.”

  He gave a curt nod, taking a step back. “I suppose we should.” Then he looked over to Mr. Moorish. “You’ll have to divulge some secrets to me sir. I’m curious to know how you managed to procure such lovely engagements for so many of your daughters.”

  Cordelia looked back at her father, who returned Balstead’s gaze with a level stare. “We’ll chat first thing tomorrow.”

  Ash had quietly moved next to her. “Lord Balstead, I’m sure you’ll be eager to return home.” He glanced back at her father. “I am also hoping for an interview, but I can wait until after Balstead is finished. I wouldn’t want to delay his departure.”

  Balstead shook his head. “Not at all. In fact, I’ll wait. Your company is so lovely, perhaps I’ll even stay another day.”

  Ash rumbled again. Cordelia looked over at him, realizing he was jealous. Something in her warmed at that. Perhaps she could win his heart after all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ash stood beneath a third-story balcony as a shadowy figure prepared for bed. God, he hoped it was Cordelia. Otherwise, he was going to have a great deal of explaining to do.

  A second figure, much larger, appeared in the flickering candlelight. The curtains were drawn but even in the shadows he could see that it was a man and a woman. She faced away and from him and he wrapped his arms about her.

  “Bloody hell,” he breathed, picturing that lech, Balstead touching Cordelia. “I’ll kill him.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” Cordelia’s voice whispered into his ear as her hand touched the small of his back. “Why are you going to murder a duke?”

  He turned about, wrapping her in his arms and spinning her about. Then he set off for their spot in the garden. “I thought that was you. I thought…” He didn’t finish as he carried her faster.

  “You thought what?” she asked, her chest moving against his as though she were laughing.

  “I thought…” He stopped, looking into her gaze. “Try to understand. I’ve never had someone or something as wonderful as you this close to being mine. I was afraid that Balstead was going to steal you right out from under my nose.”

  She crinkled her brow, wrinkling her nose. “Him? Don’t be silly.” Her arms thread about his neck, her breath tickling cheek. “He’s not the sort for me at all.”

  He pressed her closer as he made his way into the garden. “He isn’t?”

  “No,” she whispered against his skin, her lips tickling that sensitive spot just behind his ear. “He’s dark and dreary, and he seems like trouble.”

  He’d reached their spot and crossing to the bench, he sat down with her in his arms. “Looks can be deceiving.”

  Her blonde hair blew softly in the breeze as her chocolate brown eyes stared up at his. “They can.”

  “I’ve deceived you,” he said before he could take it back. He squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Ash,” she said, her lilting voice dancing over his skin. “I haven’t been honest either.”

  That made his eyes pop open. “How?” />
  She shook her head, staring off into the night. “I made it sound like I wanted you because I wanted my music career, but the truth is…” She drew in a long shaky breath. “The truth is I am falling in love with you.”

  He nearly howled in pain and shouted in triumph at the same time. Instead, he turned her face toward him. “Don’t say that.”

  He saw the pain etch the lines in her face. “Why not?”

  A muscle in his jaw flexed, pulsing with his pain. “Because…”

  “You,” she started, and he heard her breath catch. “You don’t feel that way about me.”

  “I do,” he said one of his hands threading into her hair. “More than I can ever say.”

  She made a strangled sound, her hands coming to his chest. “But I don’t understand. If I love you and you love me, what’s the problem?”

  “It’s so much more complicated than that, love.”

  She shook her head. “Is it my music?” She looked away. “Did you want me to choose?”

  “Never.” The single word ripped from his throat. “I would never want you to give that up.”

  “Then what?” she asked, wiggling to escape his lap but he held her firm.

  “I’m scared to tell you. I’ve never told anyone and once I do. Everything will change.”

  She stilled again. Her breath coming in ragged gasps, her hands cupping his cheeks. “Tell me.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure that I can.”

  “We want to build a future, correct?”

  He nodded, looking down at the stone laid artfully under his feet. “Then I need to know the truth. We’ll have to build our future on a strong foundation.”

  “I know you’re right. But I’m afraid there won’t be a future at all if you knew the truth about me.”

  She ran a hand over his chest. “I’m going to need you to trust me.”

  “Trust you?” He reached up, grasping a single lock of her hair and let it slide across his hand. “All right. Here goes…”

  Cordelia trembled as she waited to hear what he’d say next. She’d known they’d been dancing around something. Would he finally tell her what it actually was?

  “You have to understand,” he began, his face tilting up to the sky. “I didn’t start like you.”

  “Start like me?” Her voice sounded high and tight even to her own ears.

  He nodded. “I was born in Cheapside, to an unmarried woman who cleaned a whorehouse.”

  She held in a gasp as she covered her stomach with her hand. Of all the things she might have thought he would say, that hadn’t even entered her mind. He was a viscount. “But if you’re mother was unmarried then—”

  “Cordelia,” his voice dropped low and his lids slowly closed. “I am the viscount’s bastard.”

  Her head spun as she covered her mouth, trying to keep a wave of emotion from crashing over her. Suddenly it all made sense. His absolute insistence on ending the line. His emotional distance from his father, the way he believed himself to be unworthy. “Ash.”

  He still held her in his arms, his body radiating heat, but his back was stick-straight as his voice was cold. Icy even. “Even that name is a remnant of my humble beginning.”

  “But Dashlane…” she started, her voice trembling.

  “My given name, that my father gave me, is Preston. My mother named me Michael at birth. Not that it mattered. There was no record of me before my father. She was so frightened, she hid me away for the longest time. The other girls in the house, they called me Ash. You see, I’d grow cold in our attic room and I’d find my way down to a warm grate, still burning with embers, so that I might not freeze, and then I’d fall asleep there. In the morning, I’d be covered with bits of ash. Hence the name.”

  Pain and sympathy settled like a stone in her stomach. One person should not have had to endure all of that. “How did your father find out about you?”

  “She grew ill. I learned that later. She reached out to him to tell him that she’d bore him a son and begged for his help. He came. I bear too many Dashlane traits to deny my parentage. And so, he took me that very night. Apparently, I was the only child he’d successfully been able to conceive, and his first wife had already passed. He thought I was his last hope at carrying on the legacy.”

  She pressed deeper into him. “And you don’t want to continue the line that was so important to him.”

  He shook his head. “Everything I told you about his cruelty was true. But it was so much worse. In his mind, I wasn’t really worthy of the title. I was trash. I never did anything good enough. One misspoken word, I’d get the crop. One bent collar, I’d be sent to bed without dinner. Sometimes I didn’t eat for a week.”

  She couldn’t contain her cry of anger that someone would treat a small boy so cruelly.

  He looked at her then, his eyes so full of pain, she ached for him.

  “If anyone were to know my secret…”

  She nodded, lacing her fingers through his. “I understand. I’ll never tell a soul. Not even my sisters.”

  He looked down at their joined fingers. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to marry me after this. I’m not a quality man. But I beg you. Stay away from Balstead. He’s a terrible excuse for a lord.”

  Emotion had been swelling in her heart, but it wasn’t loathing or a need to reject him. She shook her head, catching his eye. Didn’t he understand. “Not marry you?”

  He nodded. “I’m not the real viscount. I’m no one.”

  She drew in a deep breath. “You are someone to me. You’re the man that I love.”

  “Cordelia.” He crushed his mouth against hers, his kiss desperate and wanton. “Thank you for saying that but…”

  “Ash.” She gave him a soft smile. “Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a lord? That I planned to go unwed rather than be tied to one of those men?”

  He pulled his chin back staring down at her. “It did not.”

  Cordelia put a hand behind his head, pulling his mouth down toward hers once again. Then, she kissed him. Long and hard. “Your past is the very thing that makes you different from them. And I know that it must have been awful, but I love the man you are now. The one who is willing to let me spread my wings and fly. The one who wants to build a life together rather than just have me decorate his.”

  He kissed her again. “You’re sure about getting engaged, married? I’ll understand if you want to end it.”

  “End it?” She gave a small laugh. “We’ve only just begun.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cordelia sighed into his kiss. She’d never been more certain of anything or anyone in her entire life.

  The fine strands of his golden hair slid through her fingers as his firm lips kissed her over and over, his tongue dancing with hers.

  Their bodies pressed together, Cordelia wishing to be closer still.

  She leaned back, looking up at him as the darkness settled about them like a blanket. “I know you wanted to burn down your title.”

  He trailed his hand down her neck to her chest, settling on one breast, then caressing the soft flesh. “I did. And I know that by having children the title itself will live on.” He moved to the other breast as she shifted to grant him access. Her nipples were forming into stiff peaks as she squirmed for his touch.

  “It will,” she gasped. She was attempting to concentrate on their conversation, but he was making it rather difficult.

  He chuckled, kissing her neck. “But…in a way, it will never be the same again. You and I are going to remake it. We’ll build a home of our own that’s filled with love. We’ll have children that are strong and cherished.” With each sentence, he kissed her again, a bit lower. “Nothing will be entailed. It will be ours to divide freely among them.”

  She nodded as his lips slid over her collarbone. He began working the buttons of her dress and the front fell open. He pushed aside her chemise, his mouth settling over her nipple. As he sucked the tender flesh into his mout
h, Cordelia moaned in pleasure, tugging at his hair.

  In response, he lifted his mouth and she cried out a protest, but his thumb replaced his lips, where he rubbed the wet flesh, making her absolutely ache in need. “My God, Cordelia,” he whispered. “You’re so lovely. How did I ever manage to make you mine?”

  She dug her hands into the skin of his neck. “I want to see you too.”

  “Ask and you shall receive.” He slid her off his lap and shrugged off his coat. His fingers made quick work of the knot in his cravat and he tossed it to the ground and then shrugged off his shirt.

  His muscular shoulders and torso came into view and her breath halted in her throat. “You’re stunning,” she said as she stood to run a hand along the ridges of his biceps. “I had no idea men were so beautiful.”

  That made him chuckle. “Beautiful is not the word that is usually used for men.”

  “It’s apt,” she answered, circling about him as she wandered her fingers over his chest, down his stomach and then around his back. “I’d like to trace every inch of you and then sketch it to remember for all time.”

  He looked back at her. “You sketch too? One woman should not be so talented.”

  She laughed at that. “Not well. Not really. But I’d try for this. It’s worth it.”

  He pivoted to face her again and then reached his arms around her to finish unbuttoning her gown. “Your turn, my love.”

  Her laugh turned nervous. “I’m not nearly as interesting as you are.”

  “I beg to differ.” The dress gave over its last button and he worked the fabric over her hips, bending in front of her.

  She lightly balanced her hands on his shoulders as he knelt down and she stepped out of the dress.

  He placed a kiss directly on her belly, still covered by her chemise, and her insides fluttered with longing. “Ash.”

  He looked up at her grinning and then reached his hands under her chemise, sliding his fingers up her bare legs. “I love that you don’t wear pantaloons.”