Page 21 of A Rake's Redemption
She snatched her hand away, but not before the soft warmth of his lips had seared through her skin and up her arm like a hot iron. The saints preserve her. What kind of dark magic did the man possess? She was not a simpering, flea-brained debutante given to fluttering fans and smelling salts. Nor was she going to be his next mistress in waiting.
“’Tis nae need for flattery. I ken what I agreed to do.” Inis eyed him. “And what I dinna agree to do.”
An odd expression crossed Alex’s face. One that Inis couldn’t decipher. Nor was his answer any clearer when he gave it.
“As you wish,” he said.
…
Damnation. He should never have touched her. Alex walked the short distance to White’s after placing Inis in the carriage with instructions to the driver to take her home. He didn’t trust himself in an enclosed space alone with her at the moment.
If the footman who opened the door to the club or the waiter who took his drink order were surprised to see him so early in the afternoon, neither of them gave expression to the fact. Which, of course, was the epitome of good service. He hoped his own face didn’t show the turmoil he was feeling.
The place was nearly empty, but Alex took a seat at a table in a corner of the main room. The last thing he needed right now was some aristocrat wanting to socialize. Or worse, to run into the Earl of Benton, Miranda’s husband. She had sent Alex two notes since their assignation. The first was to thank him for attending her soiree, but the undercurrent of the message had been to thank him for the time spent in bed. The second note had not been as subtle. She wanted to arrange an accidental meeting in the park. Alex hadn’t answered either note. The countess should know he never returned. Still, he would rather not have to be tediously polite to her husband at the moment.
He hardly noticed when the waiter put down his brandy and slipped quietly away with saying a word. Another mark of excellent service. He would need to leave a very generous tip. He picked up the snifter, swirled the cognac twice, and took a bigger gulp than was polite. The liquid slid smoothly down his throat, waiting until it settled in his stomach to emit its fiery flash.
The brandy wasn’t the only fire he was toying with. He took another swallow, smaller this time, and settled back in the padded leather chair. He hadn’t meant to do anything more than get Inis measured for some decent clothes. When he found the blue satin, he’d instantly pictured her in a gown of it, preferably at a ball at his damn brother’s place. He could have simply put the bolt on the counter and waited for Madame Dubois to reappear. Instead, it was as if some invisible hand had shoved him toward the curtain and an imp had infiltrated his brain, using the material as an excuse to enter the backroom and see Inis in her chemise.
He hadn’t acted like such an idiot since his school days at Oxford.
But he hadn’t stopped there. He’d felt propelled to advance toward Inis and drape the material over her shoulder. The slight brush of his fingers against her bare arm had been like opening a floodgate. He’d embraced her, inhaled her sweet, warm, womanly scent, and when she’d stumbled back, he’d tugged on the strip of satin to effectively press her to him. Her delicious little bottom fit perfectly against him and he felt her body heat through the thin chemise. He’d used every inch of willpower he had to not let his hands cup her breasts and knead them until her nipples peaked. Somehow, he’d managed to only trace her throat and keep from nibbling the soft lobe of her ear.
He couldn’t remember another woman he’d wanted so much. But Inis was in his employ, and he had no right to take advantage of her in any way.
A fact she had reminded him of in no uncertain terms.
He sighed, drained his glass, and signaled for another. He might just spend the rest of the afternoon and evening here getting foxed.
It was safer than going home.
Chapter Seven
Inis felt a little ridiculous being let out by the front door of Dansworth House when she returned from the shopping expedition, but she supposed the driver of the hired carriage had no idea she worked in the stable and was not a guest.
The coachman climbed off the bench, opened the carriage door, and put down the step. Inis exited, thinking Alex had probably tipped the man well to do so, or maybe he was impressed with the size of Dansworth House. In either case, he stood there waiting for her to go to the massive front door, so she couldn’t very well start walking around to the back of the house. She could well imagine what Evans, the butler, would think when he found her on the steps. She didn’t think it would be positive.
Inis smiled at the driver. “Thank ye so much for bringing me home. Ye doona have to wait.”
The man didn’t budge. “The gent said I was to wait until ya were inside.”
Drat Alexander Ashley. This was probably supposed to be part of a lesson in deportment.Ladiesdidn’t go around to the back door. Not that she looked the part in the ill-fitting dress she wore. She kept the smile plastered on her face. “Very well.”
She turned and ascended the steps, lifted the heavy brass knocker, and tapped it twice. With the speed at which the front door was opened, she realized Evans must have been standing watching by one of the mullioned windows on either side of the entrance.
He blocked the entry, looking past her. “Where is his lordship?”
“He dinna tell me where he was going.” For a moment, she thought the butler might not let her in, but then he stepped aside with an almost imperceptible arch of one brow on his otherwise impassive face. She bit back a grin. No doubt he felt it beneath his dignity to hold the door, thefrontdoor, open for a groom. The only thing worse than snobby aristocrats were snobby servants. Butlers seemed to be the worst of the lot. Her uncle’s man acted much the same way, although not to her, of course. She nodded ever so slightly and sailed by Evans. She heard a slight huff as he closed the door, but she didn’t look back.
She changed quickly back into her breeches and shirt once she got to her small room and was about to go out to the stables when Elsie tapped on her open door.
“You have half the staff in a complete dither,” the maid said as she stepped inside.
“Why is that?”
“Fern told everyone last night that his lordship approached her and asked for her dress.” Elsie giggled. “She tried to make it sound like he was asking her to take off the one she was wearin’.”
Inis frowned.Thatthought had not occurred to her. “Was it?”
