Page 18 of The Rake to Redeem Her

She thought he might break then, seize her and take his pleasure, but to her surprise and delight, he remained completely still, allowing her to touch him as she wished while standing so close she could feel his heat down the whole length of her body.

Lower she scrubbed, over the taut belly, the smooth curve of hip bone, until finally she took him in her hands.

His breath hissed out and he shuddered as she massaged the lather around his glorious hardness. Unable to resist temptation any longer, she leaned in and took one nipple between her teeth.

‘Elodie!’ he cried with a muffled gasp, then jerked her chin up to kiss her, one strong arm binding her to him. His mouth mastered hers, his tongue probing deep, leaving her senses swimming and giddy.

Still, he did not take her. She knew instinctively that even now, if she pushed him away, he would let her go. Awe and gratitude filled her.

And then, suddenly, she had to feel him there, in that aching, needy place that had been unsatisfied for so long. Her body had been handled and bullied, but not since she was very young, falling in love with the man who’d been so briefly her husband, had she encountered tenderness.

Still revelling in his kiss, she wound her arms around his neck and pulled herself up, so she could wrap her legs around his waist. Bringing his rigid erection to the hot, moist openness only he could fill.

Groaning, he broke the kiss. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes! Please! Now,’ she gasped back, then uttered a long, slow moan of ecstasy as he entered her.

Then, he was walking with her, his hands cupping her bottom to hold her in place as he took them deeper and downstream, beneath the tender summer-green branches of a huge tree that overshadowed the bank. Kissing her again, he balanced her in his hands, using the river’s current and the water’s buoyancy to augment his thrusts.

It was delicious, floating submerged in coolness yet captured at her very core by urgent, demanding heat. The sensations built and built and built as she rode him, her breath gone to sobbing gasps, her nails digging into the muscles of his shoulders, until finally she shattered and spun apart into dazzling shards of pure delight.

She came to herself, clinging weakly to him, her whole body limp, his hardness still buried deep within her throbbing core. ‘Ma petite ange,’ he murmured, kissing her again, light, feathery touches on her eyelids, her brows, her forehead. He licked her throat, the shell of her ear, the edges of her lips, until the spiral within began to rotate again and she rocked her hips against his.

Exquisite sensation shot through her when he put his mouth to her breasts, rolling the tender nipples between his teeth. Desire accelerated, building hotter and faster, making her thrust towards him while the flow of the river magnified every movement. In a rolling, rhythmic motion, they slid together, tugged apart, the liquid friction within and without catapulting her to the waterfall’s peak, where this time, they tumbled over together.

Some timeless interval later, Will pulled her with him to the bank. Under the embrace of the overhanging tree’s branches, he sat, settling her between his legs, his warmth cradling her from the chill of air and water. ‘I really had planned for there to be wooing, fine food and wine, a bed,’ he said, planting a kiss on her head.

‘I know,’ she said on a sigh. ‘I just couldn’t wait any longer.’

‘I’m glad you couldn’t. I’ve wanted that for months.’

‘You haven’t known me for months,’ she pointed out.

‘True.’ He wrapped his arms around her. ‘But I’ve been looking for you all my life,’ he added, so softly she wasn’t sure whether she’d heard the words or only imagined them.

So had she been looking, the thought struck deep. Hoping for a lover who would give back rather than demand, who would care about her, rather than simply use her. She’d lived on her own, by her wits, pummelling some small space of existence from a bully prizefighter of a world for so long, she had to go back into the mists of long-ago childhood to remember when she’d trusted anyone else to keep her safe. When she had last felt so protected. So … not alone.

The realisation was both thrilling and terrifying. Will Ransleigh, who would drag her to the gallows to save his cousin, had no part in her future, and the notion that she could depend on him after tomorrow was madness.

Yes, she’d been touched by his tenderness in seeing to her pleasure. Moved by his respect for her abilities and energised by the excitement of the sleight-of-hand they’d pulled off during their journey. But the sweetness of it was simply the rich dessert at the end of a meal—delectable, but not the sort of wholesome fare it took to sustain life.

Her life was with Philippe and that was an end to it.

She struggled, trying to use logic to disentangle her emotions from him, but like pulling at a fraying cloth, ragged threads of connection remained. Giving up, she made herself move away from him, squelching her body’s protest at the loss of his warmth.

‘It’s good you had the foresight to find us a resting place that cannot be observed from the road,’ she said, trying for some dispassionate comment.

‘I know you trust me to keep us safe.’

She wanted to deny it, but had to admit the statement was true. It should frighten her anew to realise she’d fallen into such an instinctive reliance on him … but that reliance remained, tenacious as the river tugging at her ankles.

Which was illogical and dangerous. If she weren’t exceedingly careful, this man could stop before it ever began her hunt for Philippe in Paris and she must never forget that.

Pushing her ungovernable emotions aside in disgust, she said, ‘If we don’t dress soon, we will freeze.’

‘I suppose. But I don’t want you dressed.’ He skimmed his fingers over her breasts, down between her legs. She sighed and lay back against him, feeling his spent member stir.

‘Don’t tempt me,’ he said with a groan. ‘Just the touch of you arouses me and we need to be sensible. We must dress now and ride quickly if we want to reach the village before dark.’

‘Yes, sensible,’ she agreed. Movement was what she needed. Returning to their travels, like rewinding a stopped clock, would set her emotions back on their proper course and reanimate her purpose, both shocked to a halt by the intensity of this interlude. Remind her that, but for one night of pleasure, their paths must diverge.

‘We should purchase some livestock, too. Chickens, perhaps? The easier to blend in with the other farmers headed to market.’

‘Another good idea. You’re quite resourceful.’

She couldn’t help feeling warmed by his praise. ‘I’ve had to be.’

He helped her rise, his hands at her waist. ‘Posing as man and wife for tonight,’ he murmured, bending to kiss her, ‘is your best idea yet.’

Ah, yes, she still had tonight, their last night, to savour. Her reward for all her forbearance along the road.

Passion, she could give him, though she could pledge him nothing else. Framing his face in her hands, she murmured, ‘Perhaps livestock isn’t so essential. All we really need is a room with a bed.’

‘I hope that’s a promise.’

She skimmed her fingers from his shoulders over his torso and down his body before leaning to snag his breeches and toss them up. ‘Count on it.’

Chapter Twelve

Like a man and a maid in love for the first time, they helped each other dress, Will touching, kissing, laughing with Elodie as she donned her simple maid’s gown and he changed back into a combination of working man and gentleman’s attire that might be worn by a prosperous farmer. He knew that once they reached Paris, she would try to slip away from him, but he felt too light and euphoric to worry about it, happiness fizzing in his chest like a freshly opened bottle of champagne.

He’d had many an adventure, but never one like this. Never with a woman who was as uncomplaining a companion as a man, as resourceful as any of the riding officers with whom he’d crept through the Spanish and Portuguese wilderness, working with partisans and disrupting the French.

Coming together at irreconcilable cross-purposes, their liaison was too fragile to last, but for now, he’d be like his Elodie and suck every iota of joy from an already glorious day that promised, once he’d taken care of provisions for the morrow and found her a room with a bed, to become even more wonderful.

He twined his fingers in hers as they went back to their horses. ‘How glad I am to be out of those monk’s robes! I’ve been dying to touch you as we travel.’

‘Good thing,’ she agreed. ‘Since you’re grinning like a farmer who’s just out-bargained a travelling tinker. I doubt anyone could look at us now and not know we are lovers.’

He stopped to give her a kiss. ‘Do you mind?’

‘No. I’m grateful for each moment we have together … Will. One never knows how many that may be.’

Happiness bubbled up again as she said his name for the first time, lifting his lips into a smile. He loved how she pronounced it, rolling the ‘l’s so it was drawn out, like a caress.

He loved her simplicity and directness, her matter-of-fact approach to life, not fretting over problems incessantly like a shrew with a grievance, but considering them carefully, making the best plan she could and then putting them out of mind. So she was able to draw solace and find joy … in her garden, beside a river.

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