Page 6 of The Rakehell's Seduction
This is why rakes are so dangerous.Women would do anything to win a smile like that.
“You are stillmostlybad,” she replied, but it was impossible not to laugh a little as she said it.
Ambrose laughed too. “I’ll acceptmostly badas a credit to my irresistible charm.”
“I suppose that next you’ll tell me reformed rakes make the best husbands.”
“Lord no, but I’d love for you to try to reform me.” He pulled her an inch closer and lowered his gaze to her lips. “Perhaps we could discuss the ways in which my wickedness could be handled. You could tie me down and torture me with that sweet little mou…Ack!” Ambrose gasped as Alex purposely stomped on his feet again.
“Hellfire! You bloodthirsty wench,” he growled and pulled her hard into him just as the music faded and the dancing couples split apart.
“Let go of me,” Alex hissed. If someone noticed them, it could ruin her, especially given how close he was holding her and the fact that one of his hands cupped her bottom. It felt good—too good—and she didn’t like that either.
Ambrose hesitated a moment too long before he moved back and dropped into a courtly bow.
“Alex, thank you for the lovely dance. I believe I shall see you soon. Perhaps later this evening.”
“Why?” she demanded. Her tone was more breathless than she would have liked.
“I must return to the inn and have my things delivered to your father’s estate. His invitation to remain a fortnight as his guest is too kind. I wouldn’t want to insult him.”
Oh no, she was not about to let a rake like him sleep under the same roof.
“He won’t let you step one foot in our house. Not after I tell him what you said to me.”
Ambrose’s laugh was soft and dark. “I wouldn’t do that, Alex. I might just tell him how well acquainted we are. He’ll insist I do the proper thing, and I shall of course.”
“The proper thing?” Alex wasn’t following any of this.
“Warn you father against me, and I’ll tell him I tossed your skirts up and claimed you as mine this very night. Then you’ll find you’re stuck with me as a husband.”
Alex’s jaw scraped the floor. “Why would you do that? You don’t want to marry me. You don’t evenknowme.”
“No, I don’t know you. But marriages have started on less. I know you don’t wish to marry me either. So we shall endeavor to keep our mouths shut, unless of course you wish to do other things with those lips than speak.”
She weighed his words, trying to find a way around his threat of telling her father she’d been ruined. Even though it wouldn’t be true, her father would be inclined to believe Ambrose as a gentleman. And he seemed like just the sort of man who would marry her to get revenge.
“You’re the wickedest man I’ve ever met,” Alex ground out, planting a fake smile on her face. He had won that small battle, but she was determined to win the war. She was going to make sure his stay at her home was less than agreeable, so much so that he’d run screaming back to London.
“Why, thank you.” He brushed his lips over her knuckles and vanished into the crowd.
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Chapter 3
Alex stepped out of the carriage, her feet aching from all the dancing she’d done tonight. She was looking forward to a hot bath and a warm fire before bed as well as her after-ball dessert left out by the cook. No matter how she tried to direct her thoughts as she walked toward her home, her mind kept straying back to one forbidden subject: Ambrose Worthing, the notorious rakehell from London.
After her encounter with Ambrose and that waltz, he’d departed from the assembly hall, which had left her feeling safe and yet strangely disappointed. She didn’t want to admit it, but she’d longed to have one more dance with him, even though she had decided she didn’t like him. He was a marvelous dancer.
Her father, James Westfall, the Earl of Rockford, greeted her at the door.
“Papa, what are you doing awake at this hour! It’s close to midnight. You ought to be in bed.” She hugged him, noticing his bright smile and feeling a sense of unease creep through her. A footman removed her cloak as she stepped into the house.
“We have a guest! I forgot to mention it this morning when you were here, but I’ve invited the son of an old friend to come and stay for a few weeks.”
“But—”
“There’s no need to fret. A room’s been prepared for him, and it’s all settled with the cook for our meals. Rest assured, I have handled everything.” Her father declared this proudly and then turned to the drawing room door that was ajar. “Worthing, come and meet my daughter, Alexandra!” he called out.
