Page 52 of The Good Girl's Guide to Rakes
“Shouldn’tIthank you?” she asked as he tenderly smoothed her skirts down.
“You gave me such gifts, love. The gifts of your body and your trust.” His eyes were warm but his lips turned down. “I’ll treasure them always, especially because I’ll never receive either again.”
She didn’t ask why—there was no arguing with the fact that she was all but promised to someone else, even if she had no affection for him. And it was wiser to stop this dangerous path with Kieran. Just this lone time receiving pleasure at his hands had already marked her, and, like him, the more she had of him, the more she would want.
“I should take you home.” He stepped back, but his hands lingered at her waist as she eased away from the wall.
Though she stood steadily, her heart plunged. This wondrous night and all it had meant was drawing to a close. “I’ll see you in three days, though. At Lord Hempnall’s music recital.”
“Would you object to a supplementary outing?” he asked in an unexpectedly bashful voice. “One that’s apart from our bargain. No respectable gatherings intended to reform my reputation, no scandalous venues to explore.”
“No objections,” she said at once, grasping at the chance to be with him without the obligations of their pact. “Where are we going?”
“Another surprise. It will be during the day, and I advise you to dress plainly, something old that isn’t the height of fashion. No need to paint your face as part of a disguise.”
Her brows climbed. “You intrigue me. And I’ve some clothes I’d intended to give to Dolly, so one of those dresses should suffice.”
“Superb. I’ll meet you at our usual corner, and from there we’ll proceed apace.” He bent down and pressed his lips to hers. But the quick kiss at once turned hotter, deeper, his hands cupping her head as his tongue stroked hers.
Despite her shattering climaxes moments earlier, desire blazed to life again. She held tightly to his shoulders, kissing him back fiercely.
With a groan, he tore his mouth away. His breath came hard and fast, and it gusted over her as he rested his forehead against hers. Frustrated hunger ached within her as he seemed to fight with his own needs.
“We need to leave, love,” he growled, “before I forget myself and fuck you against the wall.”
“That sounds rather nice,” she admitted.
His laugh was rueful. “It would be far more thannice, and that’s why it can’t happen.” He stepped away and she resisted the overwhelming impulse to reach for him once more. Voice heavy with genuine regret, he said, “It’s time to go.”
How was she supposed to sleep that night when her body still glowed with the pleasure Kieran had given her? After returning home from the party, Celeste lay in bed and stared at her canopy as she relived every glorious moment from the evening. There were so many things she’d done that defied her wildest imaginings, yet nothing had been as wondrous as what she and Kieran had done in that alcove.
She hugged a pillow to her chest, but it did a poor imitation of holding Kieran. In truth, for the rest of her life she would never experience anything like him.
What if... what ifKierancourted her? What if they could turn their secret bargain into something real, something sanctioned?
The question kept her awake, teasing her with its possibility, until at last, gray light stole beneath her bedroom curtains. Wanting to give Dolly a few more moments of rest, Celeste dressed herself in a plain morning gown before stealing softly downstairs.
It came as little shock to find her father in the dining room, already shaved and prepared for the day. But from the surprised look on his face, he didn’t anticipate seeing her.
“An early morning for you, Star,” he noted from his place at the head of the table. A cup of coffee and a pile of newspapers were arrayed before him.
“Feeling industrious, Da,” she answered as she went to the sideboard to pour herself some tea. After helping herself to toast and marmalade, she took a seat beside him.
“Young ladies of quality aren’ttooindustrious,” he cautioned.
As though she wasn’t well aware of the rules, both spoken and unspoken, that regulated her behavior.
She nibbled on toast, and cast uncertain glances toward her father. “Da?”
“Mm.” He didn’t look up from his newspapers.
She swallowed her tea and trepidation. “Would a second or even third son do, instead of an earl?”
“What’s this now?” he asked, settingTheTimesaside.
“Merely idle fancy.” She traced the gilded edge of her porcelain saucer. “If, say, a nobleman’s younger son was to offer for me, would that suffice? We’d still have the connections we want, and that’s a fine thing, isn’t it?”
“We don’t need to concern ourselves with that,” he answered. “Lord Montford’s asking for your hand. He’s no one’s younger son. He’s an earl, and the heir to the marquessate.”
