Page 4 of The Rake and the Muse
He took Juliet’s hand and pressed his lips to it, which did something funny to her insides. His hair was a rich chestnut, which had a silky shine. When he looked up at her after kissing her hand, his eyes were a unique shade of light blue that bored into her with a wicked intensity.The man was a rake, so there was no doubt he had the ability to render women senseless just from his presence. Masking the fortifying breath she drew, she fought to shake off the reaction to the far-too-handsome man.
“I am so glad to make your acquaintance, my lady,” he said, his words smooth as butter.
“Pleased to meet you, my lord,” Juliet replied.
He glanced at her chest, and she fought to roll her eyes. It was typical of every man she was introduced to, so she shouldn’t expect anything different from a rake of theton. To his credit, his eyes didn’t linger, nor did he ogle her, so that was an improvement.
“I hope to see more of you while we are here, Lady Juliet,” he said, bowing to her before continuing to another group of guests.
“So, you find him handsome, I take it,” Rosina said, nudging her.
“No, of course not,” Juliet returned. She noted Rosina’s smirk and knew the woman didn’t believe a word she said. “All right, he’s very handsome,” she admitted. Suddenly, something gnawed at her, even though she wasn’t sure why she cared. “Is he one of your partners?” Juliet asked, unsure where she found the nerve to ask such a forward question.
Rosina laughed and patted her arm. “No. He has never warmed my bed,” she said, assessing Lord Camden wherehe stood with his back to them across the room. “But I believe you should entertain such an arrangement.”
“What?” Juliet scoffed, nervously glancing around the room. She knew her neck and face must be a deep pink. “I couldn’t.”
“You could, my dear. Just think about it.”
Rosina was mad. Even if she knew the first thing about how to initiate such an entanglement with a man, she wasn’t certain if she wished to do so. And even if he agreed to such a scandalous suggestion, it would be to use her once and never speak to her again. She wasn’t certain why that bothered her, since that was what a tryst was meant to be. A moment of passion without the attachment. Juliet tamped down the notion, rejecting the idea. He wasn’t for her, even if he was the most handsome man she had ever seen, from the front—and the back. His form was trim and muscular, but he had a rounded bottom that she could just barely make out beneath his tails when he turned to the side.
The room suddenly felt a bit warm, and she wished she had a fan so she might cool herself. The urge to touch such a gorgeous man heated her in the most inconvenient places while surrounded by all the other guests. Good thing she was aware of how to relieve the growing tension for herself.
Chapter 3
Theodore Pratt, the Marquess of Camden, or Theo as most of his friends called him, had found himself at a house party full of either eager marriage-minded chits or married couples. Neither would make for pleasurable company for a fortnight. He may be a rake, but dallying with innocents or married women typically led to far more drama and scandal than he wished to be embroiled in. There was the widow Lady Preston, but it was only a matter of time before she lost her heart again given how strong the love match between her and her husband had been.
It was far easier to take his pleasure from the women of the night, where they didn’t ask questions. For a few extra coins, they also let him draw them. And as much as heloved fucking a beautiful woman, he might love drawing her just as much. Well, perhaps not quite as much, but close.
If he could dispense of the title and could pick anything he wished to do with his future, it would be to draw. To focus on his art and live the carefree life of an artist. That has been exactly what he planned to do until his older brother died and everything changed. Thomas had taken ill from pneumonia two years ago at the age of six-and-twenty and didn’t survive the illness. Theo had been close to his older brother, even though they were three years apart in age. He mourned his brother’s death for years and struggled daily with Thomas’ voice in his head and how he missed him.
In some of his last moments with Thomas, his brother asked him to make a promise he never wished to make.
“Promise me, little brother,” Thomas had said. “Promise me you will take care of our tenants. I know it isn’t the life you want, but I need you to do what I shall be unable to do.”
“I’ll never fill your shoes. You will get better, and you shall continue to be the perfect marquess,” he had replied, holding his brother’s hand and fighting the ache in his heart.
Thomas had gripped his hand, using some of the last strength he had left in his then sickly body. He had oncebeen a strong, broad-shouldered man. It had pained Theo to witness Thomas’ decline.
“Protect our title, brother. We have always been a powerful, noble family. It’s up to you to carry on our legacy.” Thomas coughed a few times. “I need you to promise me.”
“I promise, brother,” Theo had said, his heart crushed at the impending loss of his dear brother.
Thomas was the one who had been born to be a marquess, not just in birth order, but for his sense of duty. Theo had never wanted any of it. Theo was the mischievous, wild child, living a devil-may-care life, even in his youth. His brother should have been the one to bring honor to the title. Theo could never be the man his brother had been.
But Thomas left him, and since he had never married, Theo was the marquess. He had a daunting set of responsibilities and expectations to live up to. In the eyes of society, he was expected to marry, sire an heir, and ensure the estates prospered. That would leave little room for him to pursue his true passion.
And his responsibilities held little appeal to him. Taking a wife would limit his ability to continue to practice his art, especially the type of drawings he completed as of late. Besides, he needn’t be in a rush to take a wife. There would be someone willing to wed a marquess when hewas ready to accept his fate. He’d be content to let the title go to some distant relative if he hadn’t promised Thomas.
He did his best to do what he believed his brother would have wanted. He ensured the estates fared well, and he kept the title free from scandal. Sure, he was known as a rake, but as a man with a title, that hardly cast him out of society. Then, as often as he could in secret, he honed his artistry.
As much practice as he had, he still hadn’t gotten it quite right on the page. There was always something off about the finished drawing. It left him with the same level of dissatisfaction as if he were worked up and ready to spend his cock but unable to do so. It was beyond irritating, indeed. At least he didn’t possess the same issue when it came to actually spending his cock. A man could only take so much.
He continued to move on to the next woman, drawing her form—among doing other things—and hoping he might finally achieve what he had been looking for with his art and what he longed to capture on paper. He would know it when he saw it.
Theo glanced back at the lovely, tempting Lady Juliet. She didn’t give him a second glance, which was abnormal for the simpering misses of the ton. There was something different about her, something he couldn’t quite pinpoint, and he found it intriguing. If he were honestwith himself, everything about her was enticing. It wasn’t just her beauty, which any man with eyes could easily identify. There was something about her presence that drew him in.
She was voluptuous in all the most perfect places, and he’d never been with a woman shaped like her. Her breasts were far more than ample, and he imagined her bottom was like a perfect, ripe, juicy peach, just waiting to be bitten into. More importantly, he longed to draw her above all else. Well, perhaps not aboveallelse, but it was high on the list.
