Page 13 of The Rakehell's Seduction
Now, as she sat at the breakfast table contemplating how much she did in fact enjoy spending time with Ambrose, she realized her foolishness.
It was like falling in love with Marshall all over again. If she wasn’t careful she might put her heart in danger, and that was thevery last thingshe wished to do. Ambrose had made her lower her guard, as any good rogue would do with an unsuspecting lady.
She needed to fight back, regain control of the situation before she found herself embroiled in a scandal she couldn’t recover from. It was bad enough to be a friend of a rake, but it was even worse to be romantically tied to one, even by rumors and gossip.
Whilst she was busy woolgathering, Ambrose had slipped into the dining room, his hand containing a single flower. He took the seat beside her and leaned over, delicately tucking the flower behind her ear. His fingertips burned her skin deliciously where he touched her ear, and then he caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles.
“I missed you on the morning ride. Why didn’t you wait for me?” he asked.
Her heart gave a little treacherous leap as she carefully removed the flower from behind her ear and examined it.
A snowdrop. Her favorite.
“Why did you bring me this?” Her voice was soft, breathless.
His gaze moved from the flower to her lips and then settled upon her eyes. “Because you said they were your favorite.Galanthus nivalis. The snowdrop. Pale and beautiful, alluring and sweet with a hint of winter, like you.”
“A hint of winter?” She was staring at him, trying to decide if that was an insult or a compliment.
“Hmmm,” he hummed. “Winter is a beautiful season. Everything is silver and light and filled with mystery. When I think of you, I think of those quiet mornings when snow has freshly covered the forest trails and everything feels different, new, and mysterious.”
She knew just what he meant about the winter. It was why she loved winter above other seasons. So many ladies her age loved the springtime or the fall, but for her, winter and its mysterious moods had always captivated her—just like Ambrose was captivating her.
“I…” She cleared her throat, still clutching the snowdrop and feeling foolish for not wanting to let it go.
“Lady Darby’s picnic is this afternoon. I assume you’re attending?” He didn’t move away from her, but remained scandalously close.
“The picnic? Of course,” she replied hastily. If she didn’t regain control of herself soon, she would make a mistake. It was time to return to her pranks and send this rakehell back to London before she did something stupid like fall in love. She had one more trick to play on Ambrose, and that thought restored her spirits.
“I’m afraid I must go early to assist Perdita with a personal matter. You’ll need to be careful in finding your way to the picnic spot. It’s not at Darby House, you see, but on some land a mile north. There’s a lovely hill, and you can see much of the village below. I would be happy to draw up some directions for you.” Her voice was falsely cheerful as she inwardly hated the thought that she was renewing her plans to drive him away, but it was for the best.
His eyes narrowed but his lips curved. “Thank you, I’d like that.”
He doesn’t trust me. She could see it in his eyes, but he was attempting to fool her. Clever man.
“I’m surprised you aren’t trying to convince me not to come to the picnic,” he mused.
She shrugged. “It’s not as though you’d do as I wished, and your being here has enlivened my father in a way I’ve not seen in quite some time. I’d be a terrible daughter if I drove you away when he was so happy.” That was true—she was a terrible daughter for wishing Ambrose gone when he did make her father so clearly delighted. But Ambrose was tempting her, and she didn’twantto be tempted. Not after Marshall had broken her heart. She was done being a fool in love.
“I am glad to be visiting. Your father was a good man to me when I was a lad,” Ambrose admitted. More honesty. That continued to surprise Alex. “It’s strange to think that I came here as a child while you were tucked away in a crib in the nursery.” He chuckled softly, and the sound was rich and inviting.
It was indeed strange to think of it. Alex hadn’t been able to get it out of her head that one of London’s most infamous rakes had been scrambling about Rockford House as a lad, likely carrying frogs in his pockets and chasing geese down the garden path that led to the small pond where her father loved to fish in the summer. The image made her smile.
“You’re smiling,” Ambrose observed as he took a sip of his coffee.
She was, and she wouldn’t deny it. “I was picturing you as a boy, wondering what sort of trouble you likely got into while you were here.”
Ambrose lifted his chin loftily. “Nonsense. I was the most perfectly-behaved boy in all of England.”
There was no helping it—she giggled. “Liar.” She covered her mouth to stifle more giggles. She’d never met a man who made her laugh so much. It was delightful.
“Fair enough, I was a terrible little boy, full of tricks, but I had a good heart, I assure you of that. I never struck a bird with a slingshot or threw stones at stray cats,” he replied in all seriousness.
“That I do believe.” She couldn’t picture him as a wild and cruel child, no matter that he was a breaker of hearts now.
“And what of you, Alex? What were you like as a child?” He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers as he studied her. “Buried up to your nose in books? Or were you dashing about the hills, dirtying your dress?” He said this in such a warm, genuine tone she found she wanted to reply honestly.
“I’ve always loved to read, but I was very much a girl who did dash about the hills, dirtying more than one dress.” She smiled fondly, thinking that she was still that sort of woman who ran through the fields. “Perdita and I used to read a lot together as children when we weren’t getting into trouble in the fields. Her father and mine built us a house among the branches of a tree at the edge of the garden. It was a quaint little place where we tucked ourselves away and read for hours.” Those sunny memories of the little house in the trees had been some of her favorite days.
