Page 85 of Nothing But a Rakehell
It was Puck’s verse, fromA Midsummer Night’s Dream. The one where he calls himself the merry wanderer of the night and talks of the nonsense he gets up to for Oberon. She gave it her all. She held nothing back while she forgot herself and became the mischievous sprite, bragging of her misdeeds and pretending to be a horse and then a crab, and falling off of a stool and laughing until her sides split.
He couldn’t look away. She was magic, come to life in this fairy glen. And when it was over, he stood up. He gazed at her in wonder, still silent for a time, before he began clapping and nodding like a fool. “That was—” He couldn’t find the words. “No one has ever . . . That was the finest gift I’ve ever received. I feel so honored.”
He wished he could say what was truly in his heart and mind. She’d trusted him, as he’d trusted her. She’d given him a piece of herself. She had understood how vulnerable he felt and had again moved to even the balance between them. To ensure their equality and their mutual ease and comfort.
“Thank you,” he finished simply.
She came forward and held out her hands. He moved to the edge of the stage and lifted her down. Unwisely, he didn’t step away, but held her close and looked down into her cognac gaze.
“I should thank you,” she whispered. “You’ve changed me, Keswick.”
That sent his shoulders up, but she reached up and ran both hands over them, as if soothing all of his misgivings.
“You made me see things differently,” she continued. “You’ve made me want things I refused to consider before.” She shrugged up at him. “You inspire me, Keswick.”
His skepticism must have shown.
“It’s true.” Her grin grew a bit twisted. “I should be dizzy with the transformation you’ve wrought upon me, in so little time. When you arrived, I was closed and wary. Then I was . . . hopeful. Then you made me laugh, you made me think, you listened and you made it easy to talk—both to you and to others. I began to see that I am not the only one with burdens. It seems everyone has them, but the heft and shape of them vary. And now . . .”
She paused and his gut twisted in anticipation of what she must think, now that she knew the darkest bits of his life—and of his soul.
Both of her hands came to rest against his chest. “I see that despite the terrible weights that your father continues to lay upon you, it’s your mother’s legacy that continues on in you.”
His heart stopped beating. He wondered, vaguely, if she could hear instead, the surely audible sound of all of his internal armor cracking.
“Youare a shining light, Keswick, despite your efforts to hide it from your father and the rest of the world. I see it. I want to be like you. I want to start by shining my light upon the person I find most deserving. You.”
Reaching up, she trailed a finger along his jaw. “I’m using the courage that you helped me to find, to ask for what I want—to give us both the present we need. Each other. Even if is it only for today.”
Everything inside of him reeled. He reached for strength, for balance. But he was tired. So very tired of convincing himself that he didn’t need anyone. Tired of clutching his armor close and moving through the world alone. Tired of knowing he shouldn’t want her, though he did, so damned much.
Her sweet, kindly meant words tore up his innards because he was tired of not being known.
And her earnest, hopeful smile told him he wasn’t, not any longer.
So, he let go.
He let go of caution and guardedness and suspicion—and all the strings that held his armor together—and it shattered, fell to pieces at his feet.
And, metaphorically naked, he leaned down and kissed her.
With soft, but scorching kisses, they plundered each other’s mouths. After a moment, she pulled back to drag in a long, shuddering breath. He used the moment to savor the shock of pleasure coursing though him, and to rejoice that he did not have to push it away.
Feeling almost joyful, he kissed her again. She was everything hot and sweet. A drug that called to him, that demanded his tongue to dance with hers, that each stroke and twining should send desire cascading through his veins, that each should set his cock to stirring and reaching for her.
As in all things, she was his equal. Her lips clung to his, demanded more, sent his passion soaring higher.
But she pulled back again, and she gave a low moan when he transferred his kisses, moving along her jaw and down her throat.
“Keswick,” she whispered. “Come. I’ve prepared a place for us.”
He straightened, struggling to focus. And found a stray doubt, still lingering. “Glory, are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “Perhaps we are not meant to spend our lives together, but now, at this moment, we have the ability to make each other happy. It’s a gift, one we both need at present. We are not going to squander it.”
She led him through the bracken to the ledge that hovered over that spectacular view. He drank it in once more, then realized that she’d spread several layers of thick blankets in front of the rock outcropping, where they’d sat once before.
“Here,” she said with determination. “In the open. In the light.”
