Page 41 of A Rake's Redemption
Miranda waved a hand. “I suspect the Marquis of Kendrick has already taken care of that by being present.”
Alex looked across the room to where Kendrick stood. A bevy of debutantes surrounded him with a great deal of eyelash batting and fan fluttering going on. Caroline might have a point. Dressed mostly in black, the marquis did look a bit dangerous, but only because he was as much a rake as Brice and Alex, and not because of the taint of suspicion over his brother’s demise. As if to prove the point, Kendrick said something that made the girls twitter and giggle and brought disapproving looks from their mothers who hovered along the nearby wall. He turned back to Miranda. “One disturbance is enough for any party.”
Miranda smiled, looking like a feline who’d just discovered a bowl of cream. She leaned forward to give Alex a full view of her plunging décolletage and made a purring sound deep in her throat. “I suspect we would not bedisturbedif we sought an empty bedchamber upstairs.”
“It would be rather ill-mannered of us to presume on the hostess by using one of her bedchambers,” Alex said.
Miranda narrowed her eyes. “Are you planning to pleasure Vanessa later?”
Alex was so startled, he almost lost his composure. He was quite tempted to tell Miranda that it wasn’t any of her business who he took to bed—or when—but she continued on.
“Of course, it really does not matter,” she said, smoothing her features and placing a hand on his arm. “You are quite virile enough for two women in one night. Just let me be the first.”
Why would this woman not take a hint? She knew—all the members of that ridiculous R Club knew—that he only paid one visit. He had never promised any of them anything beyond once-in-a-lifetime lustful pleasure. To underscore that, in case anyone chose not to think he was serious, the card he sent with the negligees always said the same thing:Savor the memory. Memory. Not hint of a future.
“I decline the offer, my lady,” Alex said as he removed her hand. “Now, if you will excuse me, I am late for a billiard game.”
He turned and left before she could reply. Enough was enough. And he had definitely had enough of Miranda Locke.
…
Miranda stared at Alex’s retreating back, not believing he’d actually turned and walked away. Fromher. Howdarehe? None of her lovers had ever refused her.
She snapped open her fan furiously, not caring that a portion of the lace tore in her haste. She slipped out one of the French doors onto the veranda. The chill of the early spring evening air did little to cool her heated face or the rage that consumed her.
The veranda was empty, not crowded. Light only spilled out through the doorway, leaving the farther recesses dark and perfect for trysting. The fact that Alex had refused to come out here made her even angrier.
She wanted Alex more than she had ever wanted any man. No, she corrected herself, she had a physicalneedfor him. She awoke in the middle of the night, a sheen of sweat covering her fevered body, the area between her thighs hot and wet. Her nipples would be hard as pebbles and pinching them brought little relief. Nor did her hand when she pleasured herself. Her body reacted spontaneously, only to have the throbbing, pulsing sensation at her core return while her breath was still ragged. Her skin felt as though bugs were crawling over it. She would bring herself to climax again and sometimes several more times, only to have the aching need for Alex’s cock to be buried deep inside her return. With Alex, she could experiencela petite mort. No one else had ever taken her to that height. Only Alex had.
And he would again.
He couldn’t deny that what they’d shared was wild, carnal passion and desire. How could he deny that? How could henotwant to experience it again?
She yanked at the loose strings where the fan had torn, unraveling the lace further. An image of the red-haired hoyden seared through her mind like a hot iron poker.Inis. Was Inis the reason Alex was not seeking her bed? Why he would want such a scrawny, plain little thing, Miranda couldn’t fathom, but there was no denying the harlot was staying in his home. Was she sharing Alex’s bed every night as well?
Miranda clenched her hand around the fan and heard several of the ivory blades break. It was a satisfying sound. Did human bones make the same sound?
The Irish hussy needed to be gotten rid of. Once she was gone, Alex would have no excuse not to come back to her. Once she had him back, she would use every trick she’d ever learned to keep him there. Perhaps she would even rent a flat somewhere so they could meet more often. She’d simply tell Charles she was off doing charitable work every week. He wouldn’t question that. It wasn’t even really a lie. She would be doing charitable work…only the charity would consist of herself and Alex.
But first things first. She’d have to have Fern execute the next ploy a little sooner than she’d intended. And then, nothing would stand in Miranda’s way.
Miranda cracked the rest of the fan’s blades and smiled. Yes, indeed. What a satisfying sound.
Chapter Thirteen
Inis looked at the vast array of silverware, china, and crystal on the dining room table late Tuesday afternoon and sighed. Her next lesson appeared to be understanding table settings. Now that the spider bite was healing, she wanted very much to be in the stables, working with Goldie rather than sitting at an elaborately set table—though void of food—with Caroline and Alex.
“It looks complicated,” Caroline said, “but the arrangement is quite practical. You basically start with the outside silverware and eat your way in.”
Inis knew that since her mother had explained it all years ago, and her uncle insisted they use formal settings at least once a week whether there were guests or not. Still, she had to play along. She had led them to believe she was a poor, uneducated orphan.
“It may take me a long time.”
“I doubt it,” Caroline answered. “I suspect you are a quick learner when you apply yourself.”
Alex gave Inis a sharp look she pretended not to notice. He was probably wondering if she were deliberately going to dawdle at learning because she didn’t want to face Society. He would be at least half right. Her original plan to never let that happen wasn’t realistic. Sooner or later, she would be spotted and perhaps recognized. If that happened before Alex had his revenge, he would not send her to America. And a fate worse than hell awaited her in Ireland.
“I will try,” Inis said and picked up a spoon. “What is this used for?”
