Romancing the Rake: Seven Regency Romances

by Tammy Andresen

  He nodded. “You’re right. He’ll likely not be very invested either if you’ve never even met. Still, it’s something I’ll have to discuss with Balstead. When do you think he’ll return anyway?”

  They were going to bring Raithe into this? She swallowed a lump. Raithe would support her lie, of course. He hadn’t been honest with this man to begin with. But the very idea that Damian would discover her deception...it filled her with dread. She wasn’t accustomed to lying and he was not a man who compromised. Ever.

  At this point, it would be far easier if Raithe didn’t return until after Damian was gone. She gave her head a small shake. The thought of telling Raithe she’d accepted a position as the duke’s mistress helped remind her why she needed to remain strong and keep her wits. “What I meant to say was that I rejected your offer. There is nothing I’ll need to say to him.”

  He quirked a brow, removing the sheets fully from his coat and leaning forward to hand them to her. “I understand that you’re reluctant to form a relationship with me outside the bonds of marriage. Which is why I’ve amended my proposition.”

  “Amended?” she reached for the papers, her hands trembling. Slowly, she slid the stack from his hand, and unfolded the documents. At the top, in large elegant scroll was written, Contract for the Marriage of His Grace, Damain Danesbury to Mrs. Cassandra Winterset.

  The papers fell from her hands. “You wish to make me your duchess?”

  Perhaps she should be glad, but a slow dread filled her stomach. She couldn’t accept such an offer.

  The fire in the hearth crackled and a log snapped loudly as Damian watched as her face turned an ashen shade of white. It was not the reaction he’d expected. Though, he wasn’t certain what sort he had thought she might have. It would have been nice, he supposed, if she’d tossed herself into his lap and kissed every inch of his face, scar and all.

  After all, it wasn’t every woman who got an offer to marry a duke.

  He’d thought perhaps she’d smile at the very least, but she looked as though she were about to lose her favorite dog or…hell, she’d looked happier about his offer to make her his mistress. “I sense I’ve made a miscalculation of some kind or another.”

  She shook her head, her gaze casting to the papers now lying on the floor. “You have not.”

  “Then why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”

  She swallowed, deliberately leaning down to retrieve the papers and carefully folding them again, placing them in her lap. “I think we should discuss a few pertinent points.”

  He leaned forward then, resting his elbows on his knees. He didn’t know what she’d say but he was damned curious. “Continue.” He’d like to have the entire conversation with her in his lap. But he kept his distance for now.

  Her fingers twisted together, her knuckles turning white. “I don’t like dishonesty. I’m—”

  “I’ve been truthful with you from the first moment,” he said, relaxing back.

  “I know. And I’d like to do the same. I never conceived during my first marriage. As a duke, I’m sure having an heir is important to you.”

  Was that what this was about? He waved his hand. “If your husband was as sick as you say, I am not at all surprised. My guess is you were hardly physical?”

  Her hands stilled. “Oh. That is true.” Color flushed her cheeks. “That would make a difference?”

  Jesus. She didn’t know even the basics? His fingers clenched into fists. “Very much so.”

  “And what we did last night. Would that cause me to…” The delicate shade of pink that had colored her cheeks grew positively red.

  Well. If he were going to give her a lesson, he may as well include a demonstration. “Come here, Cassandra.”

  She shook her head. “I’d better not.”

  He tried not to grumble in protest. She was being difficult but for once in his life, he’d attempt to use a more delicate hand. “Fine.” Then he stood, leaning against the mantel as the scent of smoke lightly filled the air. “A man has seed he must plant into a woman’s womb. The seed comes from—”

  “Oh.” She covered her mouth with her hands. “Of course. How could I not have realized? And he’d have to finish in order to plant this seed?”

  “Correct,” he said, his gaze wandering down her again.

  She worried her lower lip, then inhaled a deep breath as if choosing her words very carefully. “My mother didn’t explain very much and John was often frustrated that I—”

  “No.” He held up a hand. He was frustrated that he couldn’t do more. “Not that you couldn’t.”

  Her shoulders rose and then fell as her gaze cast down again. “I wish I could believe that.”

  He stepped closer to her, reaching down a hand. “Well believe this. If you take my offer, I will show you all the parts of marriage he never did.”

  Slowly, she lifted her hand, placing it in his as she allowed him to pull her from the chair. Just before she rose, she scooped up the contract she’d dropped earlier. “If you were considering marriage, why did you ask me to be your mistress first?”

  He shrugged, wishing they didn’t have to talk about him. “I thought about marrying a woman I felt very little passion toward. Passion gave me this.” He pointed to his face, ran his index finger down his puckered scar. “But I’d be a fool not to see that you have a steady temperament.”

  She drew in a deep steadying breath. “In that case, I accept.”

  “You do?” He pulled her closer, reaching for the hand that held the contract. He placed a hand at her elbow and guided her over to the small writing desk in the corner.

  Taking the papers from her hands, he unfolded them, signing his name at the bottom of the last page.

  With the tip of the quill, he pointed to several paragraphs. “Your allowance for clothing, your pin money, the sum I will leave for you in the event you are widowed once again.”

  She gasped and reached for his biceps, holding onto his arm. “That is…” Her voice stalled. “I never expected.”

  “I told you I would care for you financially.” He turned to look at her. “You’ve signed no other contracts?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “I’m certain.”

  He handed her the quill. “Your turn then.”

  She took the quill from his hand, dipping it into the ink and then leaned over the paper, signing her name to the bottom. “There is something else I want to tell you. When you first arrived, I said that I was—”

  “It’ll have to wait,” he answered. “We’ve got something more important to attend to.”

  “What?” she asked, straightening back up.

  “I intend to bed you tonight.” Then he clasped her hand in his and made his way to the door.

  Chapter Nine

  Cassandra tried to hold in the yelp of concern that nearly bubbled out of her lips. This evening was progressing far more quickly then she’d ever thought possible.

  She’s accepted an offer of marriage, to a man who stole the breath from her chest. She’d be a duchess. And she’d built this shiny new future on a single lie. That she was already engaged. “But…what about our dinner?”

  He stopped so suddenly, she nearly bumped into his back. “Mr. Harris, we’d like a tray brought up to Mrs. Winterset’s room,” he said, then he began moving again.

  She attempted to catch her breath as she trailed in his wake. The man was like a storm… or perhaps the ocean. He was a force of nature to be reckoned with. And Cassandra had landed right in his path. That thought frightened her, of course. While he’d eased some of her fears, many lingered. Would she please him? Would he grow angry and resentful?

  But then he also filled her with…excitement. Contentment.

  For the first time in years, she’d be secure in her future. And she’d have a man by her side who effortlessly filled her with pleasure. With those two thoughts in mind, she followed willingly where he led.
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  “Shouldn’t we,” she started, licking her lips. “Shouldn’t we wait until after the wedding?”

  He turned his head to look back at her. “We’ll be married soon enough. Tomorrow morning we’ll set out for London to acquire our special license. You’ll have to indulge me for the next few nights, love.”

  While she knew her parents would never have approved, she reasoned that as long as they would be wed soon afterward, there was little harm in yielding to him. Especially after what they’d already done. “But I still need to tell you—”

  He pulled her next to him, wrapping an arm about her waist. “Tell me in the morning.”

  They’d reached her door and he twisted open the knob, guiding her inside as he closed the heavy wood panel and locked it behind him.

  She stopped in the center of the room. “It’s about my fiancé. Or rather about—”

  “I am your fiancé now,” he murmured, so low that the sound vibrated through her. “He will have to accept that.”

  Considering he was a complete fiction, he was likely to be fine with it. “But that’s just it. I haven’t been—”

  He stepped in front of her, their bodies nearly touching as he cupped her chin in his hand. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

  The words she’d wanted to say died on her lips. Because, if she were honest, she’d much rather be kissing him than talking. Especially about this. She sensed he’d be unhappy with her deception and she wanted to touch him, feel his mouth pressed against hers.

  And the way he looked at her now, the stark desire in his gaze, scrambled a woman’s senses.

  His eyes were charcoal, they were so dark. His chest broad, his hand firm at her back. And when he dropped his chin closer, her own breath stopped for a second, then came out in a rush, mingling with his.

  He captured her lips with his in a firm kiss that washed the last of her reason away. She held onto his biceps, clinging to him, needing his strength to hold her up.

  Damian understood, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her to his chest. Cassandra melted into him. There was no other word for it. She felt as though he reshaped her to fit exactly against him. Every line of her body molded into his much harder frame until they were joined together from mouth to hip.

  “Damian,” she gasped, pulling away for a moment. “This is all so…” Several words came to mind. Quick, amazing, frightening.

  “Intoxicating,” he answered, capturing her mouth again.

  That was a rather good word.

  He deepened the kiss, working free several of the buttons at the front of her dress. His hands on her body only made her hotter and she found herself working his shirt free by first untying his cravat.

  He shrugged off his coat, letting it fall to the floor and then began tugging at the sleeves of her dress. One by one, their garments fell away, leaving a trail to the bed until he was stripped to his breeches and her to her chemise.

  He traced every curve from her shoulders to her knees and back again, down her front and up her back until she hummed from the desire pulsing through her. Then he cupped her breasts, rubbing her nipples with his thumb in a light touch that sent pleasure pulsing straight to her core.

  Every part of her throbbed with need. How had she never known it could feel like this? “Damian,” his name came out in a moan. “That is so wonderful.” She stopped as he kissed her again. “I had no idea.” Then another pause for kissing. “Do we really get to do this all the time?”

  That made him laugh and he stopped kissing her, leaning away. “Yes, love. All the time.”

  “Oh,” was all she could reply before his lips captured hers again and his hand slid down her body, gathering the fabric of her chemise so that he could pull it up her body. Even the touch of the chemise skimming her skin made her shiver and she grabbed his bare biceps, digging her fingers into his muscles to try keep from spinning out of control.

  She didn’t even realize they were moving backwards until her legs hit the edge of the bed. He lifted the sheer fabric over her head and sent it sailing through the air.

  They fell back onto the bed a tangle of limbs as their mouths joined again. When he slid his fingers between her legs, brushing her slick folds, her body spasmed and her hips pressed into his hand.

  “We should make this last longer,” he said as he kissed a trail down her neck.

  “I’ve waited my entire life for this,” she murmured. “I don’t want to wait any longer.”

  He growled out a deep rumble as his hand disappeared. She protested a high-pitched noise of dissent but then she realized he was only removing his breeches.

  Cassandra pushed up on her elbows to watch and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. His gaze burned into hers even as he dropped his trousers.

  Her breath caught. He was…magnificent. Lean muscle tapered down to narrow hips and his manhood…her eyes widened. She’d never imagined one might be so…large. She pushed up and reached out her hand, running her finger over the tip.

  “Cassandra,” he said but she felt his shiver.

  “Does it work for men the way it did for me last night?” She licked her lips again. “Can I kiss you like you did me?”

  He closed his eyes. “Yes.” Then he opened them again. “But not tonight. I’ll never last. I want you too much.”

  She gave a nod. “But you’ll teach me.”

  “Yes.” He took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together as he gently pushed her back on the bed.

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Her legs automatically opened for him sliding around his hips as the tip of his manhood pressed into her opening.

  Heat, pleasure, and the slightest bit of fear mingled through her as she slid her arms about his neck. But as he moved slowly inside her, that fear was replaced with sheer pleasure. And by the time he was fully seated inside her, she knew she belonged in this man’s arms.

  Damian gathered her close, kissing along her neck as he slowly pulled out and then pushed back in. Her body wrapped about his as they pressed chest to chest, belly to belly.

  She felt like silk and heat and…home.

  He belonged here. With her.

  He closed his eyes attempting to enjoy the physical pleasure she brought while ignoring the emotion. This was a match of convenience for her and need for him. Feelings were not welcome. But as he moved inside her, quickening the pace and her body moved with his, her breath gasping in his ear, he couldn’t seem to help it.

  Emotion was rising like the tide inside him.

  And when she moaned out her pleasure, he tightened in response, picking up the pace. On and on they climbed, moving together like one until finally, her pleasure broke. Cassandra cried out as her body clamped around him, pulling his own finish from deep inside.

  Never in all his life had he had such a perfect union.

  He held her close still, wishing to savor the moment for as long as possible as he kissed her chest, her neck, her face.

  She was right. It was going to be a pleasure to be married and to share a bed with this woman every night.

  He slid to the side, pulling her body to his. She snuggled down into his chest as he reached out a hand and released the ties of several of the bed curtains, cloaking them in darkness. Dinner was sure to arrive soon, and he didn’t want to be seen or disturbed.

  They passed the night in a cocoon of warmth, making love again in the wee hours of the morning before Cassandra fell back to sleep.

  Then he slipped out of the bed and dressed, picking his clothes from the piles scattered along the floor.

  He needed to move and think.

  He was both satiated and restless.

  He should have known bedding her would create a bond. But he wasn’t prepared for the feelings that were filling him. What if she hurt him? Not physically, of course.

  He made his way down the hall and into the breakfast room.

  With Amelia, the worst wounds had been the emotional ones. The bet
rayal. The heartache. He hadn’t planned to open himself up to those again. And here he was, already filled with a tenderness that made him vulnerable. It was less than ideal.

  “Your Grace,” a deep voice rumbled from next to a platter of poached eggs.

  Damian’s head snapped up to see that Balstead had arrived at home. He shouldn’t have been surprised. It was Balstead’s house. “Good morning.”

  Balstead gave him a long look. “You look…disheveled.”

  Damian glanced down at his wrinkled clothing. “Long night.”

  “Drinking?” Balstead turned toward him crossing his arms over his chest.

  Damian straightened, one eyebrow rising. “That’s what the party is supposed to be about, is it not?”

  Balstead grimaced, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “As you can see, there isn’t much of a party.”

  “I’d noticed a lack of guests.” He crossed over to the buffet grabbing a plate. “Did you find the other men?”

  “I found them,” Balstead answered. “In the small village of Seabridge Gate. The Duke of Rathmore returned with me, but I don’t think he’s up for much debauchery.”

  “Why is that?” Damian heaped eggs onto his plate, then added a rasher of bacon and lightly toasted bread, not sure what else to do.

  “He’s about to get married,” Balstead said. “And I am too.”

  He quickly set his plate on the buffet, the loud thunk of it filling the room. “Congratulations.” He picked the plate up again and then turned toward the other man. “I’ve also decided to marry.”

  One of Balstead’s eyebrows rose. “Really? Whom?”

  Damian set the plate aside filling his lungs with air to calm the nerves that had been plaguing him all morning. “Cassandra.”

  Balstead paused for a moment and then his shoulders slumped. “What a relief.”

  Some of Damian’s anxiety lessened too and stretching his neck, he started for the table. “I’m glad you think so.” He shook his head. “It’s a bit sudden but—”

  Balstead waved his hand. “There’s a lot of that going around.”