Page 593 of From Rakes to Riches

And Rake was off, quickly locating the stairs and taking them two at a time to the second floor. He propped a shoulderagainst Room 5’s doorframe, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited.

Gemma would eventually need to sleep—and Rake was patient.

Several parties came and went, a few recognizing the Duke of Rakesley, but none possessing the temerity to ask a duke what he was doing loitering in a public corridor. Still, it wasn’t long before the light tread of familiar footsteps sounded on the stairs. A figure wearing a slouch hat appeared above the landing.

Gemma’s gaze lifted, and her step stuttered to a stop. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Rake snorted. “Missed me that much?” he asked across the distance. His heart felt as if it would lift out of his chest at the very sight of her.

Oh, he was deep in it, wasn’t he?

The furrow of her brow deepened. “You came to check on Hannibal, I suppose.”

“Aye,” said Rake. “Amongst other things.”

Like you, he left unspoken.

The look in her gold-flecked, green eyes seemed to know it, anyway.

As she neared, he held his place in the doorway, not precisely blocking it, but not making it easy for her, either. Making it so she had to come within a few feet of him and meet his gaze. She held up the room key. “May I?”

“By all means,” he said, unmoving.

It was all very ungentlemanly of him, which he felt perfectly at peace with. She twisted the key in the lock, and the door swung open. Still, he blocked the way. If she wanted inside the room, he would have to move.

She snorted and shook her head. “You could ask to come inside.”

“May I come inside?”

“What if I said no?”

“Are you going to say no?”

She hesitated, a war in her eyes. “No.”

He stood aside, and she shouldered past him. He might’ve detected a roll of her eyes.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Rake took in his surroundings. “It’s a nice room.”

Gemma lifted a single eyebrow. “Under your instructions, I presume.”

“Nothing but the best for my jockey.”

He set his hat on a table, pulled out a chair, and sat. With its cozy fire burning in the hearth and a bed rounded with downy pillows and coverlet, the room gave a warm, settled feeling.

A feeling very at odds with what he’d witnessed downstairs.

“Is there something you would like to discuss?” asked Gemma, taking the chair on the opposite side of the table. She ignored the bed as she took one boot in hand and tugged it off, then the other. The slouch hat followed, red-gold tendrils escaping the queue at the nape of her neck and curling about her shoulders.

Delectably mussed. That was how he would describe her.

“I saw you in the taproom.” Best to cut directly to it.

Not a hint of surprise registered in her eyes. “And?”

“You were with two men.”

“There’s no law against that.”

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