Page 47 of In a Rake's Embrace
“And his partner ... is that his wife?”
“That is indeed Lady Eglinton.”
Shock sliced through Agatha. “He visitsAphroditeoften and always asks for Lady Hettie or Lady Ellen.”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
Her fingers tightened around the stem of her champagne glass. “Are you not shocked?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s natural for a man to keep a mistress and have several lovers.”
Agatha stared at him as if he had grown two heads. “There isnothingnatural about dishonor,” she said quietly. “You may think me naïve, but a man and a woman make a vow—a promise before God when they marry. A promise of faithfulness, loyalty, and love. If a man breaks that, he’s a dishonorable bounder whodeserves to rot. I cannot fathom the hypocrisy of your society—to look down their noses at others while holding such a view.”
“You’re right,” he said with soft intensity. “That’s why I’ve always said I’ll never marry.”
A nameless agitation rushed through her body. When he explained why he avoided balls, she assumed he was not ready. “You … you don’t plan to marry? Even years from now?”
A cynical look entered his gaze. “I can’t imagine having just one cunny for the rest of my life, nor am I inclined to change my mind because of this mystical love that changed my friends’ opinion on the matter. So, no, I will not be marrying. I have others who will inherit.”
He was such a paradox. Agatha knew Thomas had a sense of honor, yet he was a libertine. She realized that his honor kept him from marriage—so he wouldn’t break his vows. A sharp ache bloomed in her chest. She took a slow, deep breath to steady herself against the emotions flooding her.
This ache, this piercing awareness that felt trapped beneath her skin, the wild flutters in her belly, and the maddening desire to walk into his arms and rest her head against his chest were aggravating reactions to this man. Whatever she felt would never be mutual, and she despised how helpless she felt, tumbling into something so unfamiliar, something she couldn’t control.
The orchestra struck up, violins filling the room with an alluring melody.
“Will you dance with me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He led her to the dance floor, guiding her into position. Agatha could feel the eyes of the guests on them, but the moment his arms wrapped around her, all anxiety melted away. Her skin felt sensitized, her heart pounding as if in rhythm with themusic. She could even feel the warmth of her breath trembling over her lips.
As the sensual strains of the waltz enveloped them, they began to move. Their bodies flowed together effortlessly, each step imbued with grace andquiet elegance. The earl’s intensity was almost unnerving. Neither of them spoke, and Agatha was grateful for the silence—it allowed the tension between them to stretch, simmer, and deepen with every movement of the dance.
Agatha was more acutely aware of herself than ever before. Since the night he had teased and tormented her until she lost count of her climaxes, there had been no further carnal intimacy between them. Instead, over the past few days, he focused on refining her speech, how she walked, and how to subtly tease a man. A simple brush of her fingers along the lapels of a jacket, a coy smile beneath lowered lashes, leaning just close enough to tempt and then pulling away when he attempted a discreet touch—all designed to ignite desire while holding it just out of reach.
Thomas had taught her that most of the art of seductioninvolved denial of need, stoking and building hunger until it was unbearable.
Agatha wanted more than kisses … and it did not feel as if it was in pursuit of lessons. She wanted Thomas. She wanted to haunt him as he had started to haunt her. Memories of the night her legs were splayed high on his shoulders, her sex opened to his debauchery would sometimes resurface at inappropriate times, catching her off guard and sending her heart racing.
Like now…
“I would like another lesson,” she said.
His mouth hitched into a small smile. “I suspect you have something in mind that you want to practice.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
She could feel a flush creeping up her cheeksandwished she could control her reaction. “You will see once we return to your private apartments atAphrodite.”
As the final strains of the waltz faded, Thomas guided her off the dance floor. He led her towards the exit, bypassing the crowd.
“Are we not going to bid farewell to Lord and Lady Ambrose?” she asked, surprised by their sudden departure.
