Page 2 of The Rakehell's Seduction
“Oh, yes, so sorry!” He hastily rolled off her and stumbled to his feet, brushing off leaves and dirt before he bent to offer the young lady assistance.
“My apologies, miss. I was not looking where I was going.” He still couldn’t see her in the dim light, but her voice was soft and husky. It made him think of bare skin, satin sheets, and soft sighs of pleasure. His body instantly reacted with arousal, and his muscles tensed.
“The fault was entirely mine.” The young lady rose with his aid, her gloved hands warm in his. They moved away from the shadow of the tall hedges and into a shaft of light from the lamps near the entrance leading back into the assembly hall.
The lamplight illuminated a well-formed body draped in white muslin, violets embroidered at the waist and hem. The lady herself was no great beauty by patrician standards, at least not at first glance—her nose was too pert, her chin a tad too pointed. But when he studied her face more closely, he found her features strangely fit together and she was in fact very pretty. Her blue eyes were almond-shaped rather than round pools of color. The tilt of her eyes and the languorous half-lidded gaze that seemed natural to her was dreamy, and thick sooty lashes framed them, making the blue brighter. Like staring at fresh cornflowers. It made Ambrose think of naked bodies writhing in passion amid garden blooms. As she continued to gaze softly back at him, her lips parted, and he knew that whoever bedded this woman would stare into her eyes and make love as though in a dream. He shook his head, clearing the haze of curiosity and desire.
“I see I am not the only one escaping the horde inside,” she teased him. Her lips curved slightly when she spoke, as though smiling came naturally to her. It made her far prettier than he’d originally thought.
Ambrose wanted to smile himself, something he hadn’t done in years. A smirk when possible, a grin where needed, or a leer when necessary—but a genuine smile was rare for him.
“I couldn’t stand another minute in there,” he confessed. For a moment he forgot about the wager. It was obvious he wouldn’t find Rockford’s daughter at the dance tonight. He would have met her in the earlier introductions when he’d first arrived. He could take a moment to enjoy this woman and her company before facing the crowds inside. Would she stay out here with him and continue talking? Or would she seek shelter inside and avoid him like any smart young lady would do?
She raised a lace fan and wafted it close to her cheeks, which were a little too rosy. “I don’t blame you. I can’t stand the heat when everyone starts dancing. I came outside to cool off.” The young lady backed up a step, not exactly a retreat, but Ambrose acted out of primal instinct and mirrored her movement by stepping toward her.
Perhaps tonight wouldn’t be a total waste of his time. He could steal a few kisses from a few ladies until he found his quarry for the bet. It wouldn’t do him any harm to enjoy a few minutes with this enchanting creature.
“As there is no one to introduce us, might I have the honor of claiming your name?” Ambrose leaned one shoulder casually on the stone wall in front of her, effectively blocking her entrance back into the ballroom. Gardens werealwayspreferred for stolen kisses.
“And allow you to create scandal?” The woman tried to sound imperious and scandalized, but she broke down into an adorable fit of giggles.
Normally Ambrose hated the twittering sound of giggles, but this was entirely different.
“Very well, let’s be scandalous then.” She rewarded him with a smile that hit him right behind the knees.
True mirth and humor shone in her eyes, and against his better judgment he barked out a laugh. It felt…good. He’d become so jaded in recent years, he hadn’t laughed much either.
“I’m Alexandra.”
“Do people call you Alex, then?”
“No.” A glint of merriment sparked in her eyes, but she raised one brow in challenge. He could tell she was lying about that, and she was teasing him, too.
“May I?” Ambrose pushed away from the wall and straightened to his full height, moving one step closer.
“You wish to call me Alex?” She leaned into him the faintest bit, her eyes half-closed as she stared at his mouth. What an easy prize she would be, but well worth the conquest tonight.
“Yes,” he murmured and cupped her chin. His thumb traced the cupid’s bow of her lips, pulled them apart a little. Her shallow, panting breaths warmed his thumb and heated his blood. His cock hardened painfully in his buckskin trousers.
“And what should I call you?” Her lips moved in a luscious dance as she spoke.
He was momentarily lost in visions of stealing kisses and pinning her to the wall, showing her all the wicked delights of what his hands and mouth could do while the muted sounds from the ballroom drowned her out her moans of pleasure. It was a skill he’d perfected over the years, one that made him dangerous at any dance where young ladies were left unattended by their chaperones or mamas.
“My friends call me Ambrose.”
“Oh?” Her nose wrinkled adorably, and he could tell she was trying to stave off another attack of giggles. “Is that your way of telling me we are friends?”
He chuckled. “No, but I would certainly like to be. My full name is Ambrose Worthing.”
The haze of desire vanished in between heartbeats. “Worthing!” She pulled back, trepidation and recognition flashing across her face.
“You’ve heard of me then?” So his reputation had reached at least one person in Lothbrook. Perhaps this small hamlet of a village wasn’t as remote as he’d believed. Until she’d reacted, he’d begun to think he wasn’t wicked enough for his name to stretch past the outskirts of London.
“Yes, I have heard of you. Your reputation precedes you.”
“Oh? And what reputation is that?” He couldn’t help but want to know if she’d say it. She’d been so bold before. Would she cease to be so charming and fascinating when she was faced with a rakehell of the first order straight from the gambling hells in London?
“You are a rake,” Alex announced in an accusatory voice that made him smile.
