Читать книгу The Regency Season: Decadent Dukes: Rufus Drake: Duke of Wickedness / Griffin Stone: Duke of Decadence / Christian Seaton: Duke of Danger - Кэрол Мортимер, Carole Mortimer - Страница 11

“Should you not put on your pantaloons first?” Anna prompted in alarm as Rufus began to climb the tree with the dexterity of one of the primates she had once seen pictured in a book in her father’s study.

He paused briefly, the warmth of his breath currently fanning across her exposed knees. “They are expensive and I would not wish to damage them,” he mockingly returned her own earlier comment in regard to her lack of stockings and boots.

Anna’s trepidation grew as she realised just how vulnerable she was to whatever this man might wish to take from her.

Or, more worryingly, what she might wish to give.

Heat suffused the whole of her body as he continued to climb the tree, and she realised as he did so just how big he was. Everywhere. His tanned shoulders really were impossibly wide, and the bareness of his chest, with that down of silky black hair, was far too warm and immediate as he reached up past her to grasp on to the branch above, so that he might release the back of her gown, before then twisting his body round to sit on the branch beside her.

A warmth and immediacy that caused Anna to tremble as he sat far too close to her, the bare skin of his shoulder warm against her own, and allowing her to smell citrus and spice on his body, his cologne, along with a musky, totally male smell that she found equally as enticing.

“One,” he murmured pointedly.

Anna could make no pretence of not knowing what he was referring to, and her heart gave a leap in her chest as her gaze lowered to his chiselled lips just inches away from her own.

Sculptured lips. Wickedly sensual lips that surely did know exactly how to kiss a woman.

Her eyes widened as he slowly licked his bottom lip, before drawing it enticingly into his mouth with his teeth.

Rufus recognised Anna’s flush of arousal for what it was, and he realised too that he was enjoying himself, more than he could remember doing in a very long time. Years, perhaps. If ever?

He had taken bachelor apartments in London after finishing with Oxford, and the past ten years had seen his fortunes change dramatically. He had no interest in cards or a life of idleness, but had instead concentrated on his investments, doubling his money within months, before investing further.

Until one day Rufus realised he had so much money he could easily buy himself a house in one of the most fashionable areas in London, along with the servants needed to run such a residence, whilst he quietly continued to amass even more wealth.

He had enjoyed the company of ladies during those years too, of course. Very much so. He had stayed well clear of married ladies, however, nor had he wished to become entrapped into a marriage with one of the simpering young debutantes of the Season.

The young debutantes and their families were desperate to make a match to one of the richest men in England. His family connection to the prestigious Dukes of Hawksmere and Northamptonshire were not to be dismissed, either.

Cynical perhaps, but Rufus had no illusions in regard to London Society and how those loveless marriages were decided upon. And he wanted no part of it—not the suitable marriage, nor the demure miss, who would no doubt have been advised by her mother to lie passive and unmoving in the marriage bed while her husband impregnated her. After which she could banish him from her bed until her lying in was over. When the whole miserable cycle would begin all over again.

An heir was now necessary, of course, but Rufus had every intention of choosing his own wife when the time came.

The young woman seated on the branch beside him was not of the ton, nor was she a married lady or a simpering debutante. Nor did the circumstance of their meeting—she was currently as unclothed by choice as he was!—lend itself to any outraged cries of ruination on her part, if he should steal a kiss. Or two.

Which Rufus had every intention of doing.

Sitting as close as they now were, Rufus could appreciate just how delectably kissable Anna’s slightly moistened lips were. They were naturally rosy in colour, and there was an endearing dip in the centre of the fuller lower lip.

Her unfastened gown was still gaping down slightly at the front, allowing him a tantalising glimpse of her wet chemise as it clung damply to the fullness of her breasts, tipped with pert nipples the same rosy-red colour as her lips.

To kiss or touch those would be going too far, but that did not mean Rufus could not be aroused by the sight of them.

He raised a hand to cup her cheeks, her skin feeling as soft and smooth as silk as he turned her face gently towards him.

Her eyes widened in alarm as Rufus held that gaze to slowly lower his head towards hers.

She gasped softly. “Perhaps we should not do this.”

And perhaps, if Anna’s breath had not been so soft and fragrantly warm against his lips, if she had attempted to avoid his kiss by turning away, then he might have been able to resist.

As it was, Anna did none of those things, but instead remained as still as a statue as Rufus placed his lips gently against hers

He pulled back only slightly. “Open,” he encouraged gently.

“Open?” she asked, breathing softly.

Rufus ran the tip of his finger lightly across her lips, parting them slightly before once again claiming them with his own.

She tasted delicious. A combination of honey and mint, the latter a freshness that made his lips tingle, followed by that tempting sweetness. The enticing dip in her bottom lip begged to be tasted by his tongue before he slid fully into the heat of her mouth.

Rufus continued to kiss her, to taste her, as he pressed back against the trunk of the tree, his arm about the slenderness of her waist as he pulled her in tight against him, the softness of her breasts pressed against the hardness of his bare chest.

He groaned low in his throat as he felt the shy, tentative stroke of Anna’s tongue against his own. Then she became bolder still, sucking his tongue deeper into her mouth, slowly at first, and then more demandingly as her confidence grew.

Anna came to her senses with a gasp, wrenching her mouth from Rufus’s the moment she felt a firm and hot hand cupping her breast, his knowing fingertips caressing the swollen and sensitised tip.

She used her free hand to push against his chest as he seemed reluctant to release her, her eyes wide, cheeks flushed, her breasts—the breasts he had touched so intimately!—rising and falling as she breathed quickly.

She had never experienced such a kiss, such searing intimacy, in all of her life before today.

She had meant the kiss to be merely a meeting of lips, in order to satisfy her side of the bargain, but the way that Rufus had kissed her—and she had kissed him—was nothing, absolutely nothing, like any other kisses Anna had suffered through in the past.

Instead she had felt claimed by him, by having his tongue in her mouth. Had felt as if she claimed him when she had felt drawn to return his passion.

His firm and chiselled lips had initially been surprisingly soft against her own, causing excitement to flutter wildly beneath her breasts. And her breasts had seemed to swell beneath the dampness of her chemise as the kiss continued, the rosy tips becoming an aching tingle, with an unaccustomed warmth spreading through the whole of her body before it had centred as a pleasant ache between her thighs.

It was an excitement that Anna had thoroughly enjoyed, until she had felt that hand cup her breast, and realised she had put a stop to these unexpected intimacies. Before it was too late.

The fact that she had needed to place her hand on the muscled nakedness of Rufus’s chest in order to push him away, and that her hand still rested against it, caused her to recoil back so sharply that she lost her balance on the branch completely.

“Steady, Anna!” Rufus warned harshly as he reached out to clasp both of her arms to prevent her from falling, his back pushing harder, painfully so, against the rough bark of the tree trunk behind him in order to maintain his own balance. “Perhaps we should get down from here? Before one or both of us is injured,” he added grimly, his lids narrowed to hide the expression in his eyes.

How had this woman aroused him so quickly and so heatedly? So thoroughly that he had touched her more intimately than he’d intended. To the degree that he had been on the edge of losing all control.

He was a man of two and thirty, and had bedded more women than he cared to remember since losing his virginity at the age of sixteen. The intervening years had rendered him both jaded and cynical where women were concerned, and he now approached all sexual liaisons with the same lack of emotions. All he wanted from his encounters was a release of his sexual tensions.

What happened just now had felt neither jaded nor cynical, but fresher and more arousing than anything Rufus had experienced before. Just as Anna herself possessed that same freshness of spirit.

Because she was fresh, you idiot, he rebuked himself. Any fool could see that Anna, despite the sharpness of her tongue, was a virgin, an innocent.

He had not meant to go so far as he had. He’d intended only to kiss her, to have a little fun himself, whilst at the same time punishing Anna a little for her recklessness in being alone out here in the woods, making herself vulnerable to any man who happened by. That the man had been him was purely coincidental.

One touch of Anna’s parted lips beneath his, the shy and then demanding caress of her tongue, and Rufus had felt himself stir with a pulsing, aching need for more. So very much more.

And that, Rufus old chap, is the road to perdition!

Because no father was going to allow a man—even a duke!—to take his daughter’s virginity without demanding some sort of recompense.

“I shall go down first,” Rufus rasped harshly before releasing her to turn away and begin his descent, his thoughts grim.

If Anna had not stopped him when she had—

Then both of them would have tumbled out of the tree and put an end to the disturbing interlude that way, Rufus assured himself, his good sense having returned to him the farther he removed himself from the lure of the warmth of Anna’s mouth and body. There was not even the possibility, even if he were to have practised all of his considerable sexual inventiveness, that the two of them would have been able to deepen the intimacy whilst still up in the branches of a tree.

Of course, he still had to resist kissing her again once they were both down on the ground, but good sense told him he had best do exactly that if he did not wish to make this situation even worse than it already was.

How the two of them behaved towards each other when they met again, probably in the presence of Anna’s father, was a subject for conjecture, but Rufus did not imagine that Anna would any more welcome her father knowing of her scandalous behaviour today than Rufus would.

No, it had been a pleasant interlude but it was not one Rufus believed it wise to repeat. His responses to her warned him that he should not demand that second kiss.

Rufus kept his movements brisk and impersonal, his gaze averted from that sensuous mouth and those creamy breasts, as he helped Anna to descend the tree. “Turn around,” he instructed briskly once she stood in front of him, intending to refasten the buttons at the back of her still-gaping gown.

Anna felt slightly befuddled as she obediently turned her back towards Rufus, disturbed by her reaction to being so thoroughly kissed, and by a man she had only just met.

His responses to her, the low groans in his throat, and the way his hands had roamed restlessly over her back before cupping her breast, had proved that he truly was not a gentleman.

Her confusion increased as she saw his expression was one of haughty remoteness as he turned away to pull on his own clothes. She sat down on the grass to put on her stockings and boots. It was almost as if he had not just kissed her so passionately, touched her more intimately than any other man ever had.

Nor had he made any demand for a second kiss in return for helping her down from the tree.

She eyed him uncertainly as she stood up slowly. “I…thank you for your help,” she murmured hoarsely.

He was now fully dressed, his glance impersonal, as he swung easily up into the saddle of his restlessly prancing stallion. “I advise that you do not make a habit of venturing out in these woods alone.” His mouth twisted into the semblance of a mocking smile. “Another man might not be so reluctant to take what you offer!”

Anna gasped at the deliberate insult. “I did not offer, you took!”

He looked down the length of his aristocratic nose at her. “You may tell yourself that if you wish.”

Anna felt the guilty colour heat her cheeks as she knew she had been a more than willing participant to their lovemaking.

Something a gentleman would most certainly not have brought to her attention.

She glared up at him. “I do believe I dislike you intensely.”

“Keep telling yourself that, my love, if it pleases you.” Rufus gave a mocking laugh as he doffed his hat and bowed in a caricature of politeness. “I will wish you a good day, Anna Juliet.” He placed his hat firmly back on his head before turning Caesar, not giving so much as a glance back as he urged the stallion through the canopy of trees and out onto the fields leading up to the majestic red-stoned residence that was the seat of the Duke of Northamptonshire.

Rufus continued to rebuke himself for his actions as he allowed Caesar his head. For allowing an innocent such as Anna to arouse him so completely he had forgotten who he was. Who she was.

A rebuke that became even more immediate when the first person he saw, as he rode into the cobbled stable yard of Banbury Hall, was Matthew Turner.

The older man was in conversation with one of the maids, but he excused himself immediately to hurry across the yard as he recognised Rufus. “It is very good to see you here, Your Grace,” he greeted as he took Caesar’s reins, a pleased smile lighting up his weathered face.

“I believe you wrote requesting my presence,” Rufus reminded abruptly as he dismounted, not at all sure how he should deal with this man after the earlier liberties he had taken with Turner’s daughter.

The older man immediately sobered. “Of course.” He nodded. “But first let me introduce you to my daughter.” He smiled proudly as he turned and beckoned for the maid to join them.

Well, this woman was clearly not the one he’d kissed so passionately in the woods just now.

And if Anna was not Matthew Turner’s daughter, then who the hell was she?

Where was she?