Taming the Rake (8 page)

Not the divan. Not his perfectly broken-in leather divan
.

She wouldn’t dare.

But apparently, there wasn’t much that Lady Georgina wouldn’t dare.

Coventry didn’t know what she thought she was doing, but he’d warned her. When he got his hands on that beautiful little neck… Well, he wouldn’t be held responsible for what happened next.

Coventry paused at the entrance as his name was announced. It was an unseasonably warm mid-April night and the pungent scent of sweat mixed with the cloying aroma of perfume nearly made him turn around. It was not a pleasant combination.

He hadn’t stepped through these doors in five years. He could have waited another fifty. His gaze traveled around the large room, taking in the highly polished floors, the light blue plastered walls and the gilded chandeliers ablaze with hundreds of candles. The room filled to bursting with London’s most elegant and fashionable.

Not much had changed.

Almack’s. The “Seventh Heaven of the Fashionable World,” or, in his opinion, Hell on earth. But not even the dreaded “marriage mart” would prevent him from tracking down Lady Georgina Beauclerk tonight. And as it was Wednesday, Almack’s assembly rooms it must be.

A collective gasp accompanied his entry, followed by hundreds of curious faces turning in his direction. He ignored all of them, focused as he was on one face in particular. One exceptionally lovely face that masked the clever mind of a despot.

Focused on his search, he didn’t notice that he was no longer alone.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” came the familiar sarcastic drawl. “I guess the rumors are correct.”

Coventry turned to find the smirking face of the Earl of Blakemore. Once a close friend, Coventry hadn’t seen much of Blakemore over the past few months. A year ago Blakemore had been every bit the reprobate as Coventry, but he’d forsaken his life of debauchery for a wife. Poor sod.

“And what rumors are those?”

“That you are besotted, chasing after the St. Albans chit.”

Coventry swore. “The rumors are false.”

Blakemore smiled knowingly. “And yet, here you are.”

Coventry tried to control his temper. “If you must know, it’s the other way around.”

“The lady is chasing you?” Blakemore scoffed. “I don’t believe it.”

Coventry shrugged. He didn’t care what Blakemore thought. Coventry’s only concern right now was finding that little termagant and instilling in her a healthy dose of fear.

Blakemore’s eyes narrowed, as if he suddenly suspected that Coventry might be telling the truth. “If it is true, you’ve made quite a catch. Consider yourself fortunate. One of the biggest marriage prizes on the market. Not as beautiful as her friend,” he gestured to Lady Cecelia, “but ravishing just the same.”

Coventry didn’t agree, but bit back his disavowal. The cold hauteur of Lady Cecelia Leveson-Gower did not appeal to him in the least. She was
too
beautiful, almost like admiring a piece of art. No, Coventry much preferred the more animate delights of golden brown hair and sparkling green eyes. Not that he’d ever admit as much to Blakemore. Lord knows what he would do if he smelled blood. The chap was clearly chomping at the bit to have someone join him in the ranks of matrimonial hell, and it sure as Hades wasn’t going to be him.

“I don’t understand.” Blakemore studied him. “She’s rejected five suitable offers, why you?”

Coventry stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“No offense, old boy. But you are hardly the sort to appeal to someone like Lady Georgina Beauclerk.”

“Why not?”

“Well for one, you’re foxed half the time. You’ve had more mistresses than I can count. You’re hardly a paragon of society. And from what I’ve seen, the chit seems to be a good judge of character.” He grinned. “Which, my friend, would leave you out.”

Blakemore was correct, of course. Coventry had earned his reputation. But for some reason, this time the character disparagement annoyed him. He fought to control his expression, knowing that a show of bad temper was only likely to encourage Blakemore.

“So hell has frozen over?” The perfectly modulated voice teemed with condescension.

Coventry turned, acknowledging the arrival of Mr. Carrington with a curt nod. “Carrington.”

Carrington snickered. “The notorious Earl of Coventry gracing the halls of Almack’s? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yes, well, here I am,” Coventry said brusquely. Carrington was not a friend, nor did he want to encourage a friendship between them. Coventry didn’t like the man. He was a peacock of the worst pompous sort.

“I’ve heard you’ve agreed to escort your sister during her season.”

Coventry’s gaze hardened, suddenly alert. He quirked a brow. “News travels fast.”

Carrington shrugged, but Coventry didn’t like his secretive expression. “You know how gossip spreads amongst the ton.”

“Yes,” Coventry said. “I do. Now if you’ll excuse me, I see my sister.”

And, more important, Lady Georgina. Any uneasiness caused by Carrington was pushed aside as Coventry’s prey came into view: the pile of silky hair artfully arranged to resemble that of a Grecian goddess, the slim curve of her smooth neck. He homed in like a hunter, all of his senses fastened on one woman.

A cold smile curved his lips. It was time Lady Georgina learned that he meant what he said. He was not a man to play games.

On a typical evening Gina found Almack’s a bit tedious, but tonight she was having a grand time, basking in the glow of a successful morning. Today had gone exceptionally well, and she was feeling inordinately pleased with herself.

Coventry’s servants had been only too easy to win over. Her nose wrinkled disapprovingly. It wasn’t surprising. With all the alcohol in that house, Lord Coventry had probably been too drunk to notice how overworked they were.

A devilish smile played about her mouth. She wished she could have seen his expression when he arrived home.

“Oh no,” Lady Augusta moaned. “It’s worse than I thought. I never should have let you talk me into redecorating his lodgings.”

“What are you talking about?” Gina asked.

“It’s my brother.”

Gina patted her hand affectionately. “Don’t worry, Augusta.” As they’d been spending so much time together, they’d agreed to call each other by their Christian names. “We’re quite safe from your brother until his temper has a chance to cool. That’s why I chose Wednesday. He’d never show his face at Almack’s.”

Augusta had gone incredibly pale. “Never say never.”

Gina’s brows shot together. “What are you talking about?”

Augusta pointed behind her. Gina turned and froze. Coventry was descending on them like some dark, avenging angel. And from the black expression on his face, Gina could tell that he hadn’t quite recognized the wisdom of her plan just yet.

A prickle of fear ran down her neck. He looked like a hawk diving in for a kill. So like a smart mouse, she decided to scatter.

Gina turned to Augusta. “Perhaps we should take some air?” Gina suggested lightly, but the telltale squeak of apprehension sounded in her voice.

Lady Augusta nodded in quick agreement, and they practically ran toward the garden.

Gina had just stepped onto the gravel when a hand as unrelenting as a steel vice clasped around her arm.

“Not so fast.”

Her heart stopped. The low menace of his voice cut through the crisp night air like a sharp blade. She shivered as his warm breath found the bare skin of her neck. Her entire body tensed, waiting. Gina was uncomfortably aware of the press of the hard, unyielding body behind her. Did he have to be so frightfully large?

She looked around for help. Augusta, the dashed coward, had disappeared.

He whipped her around to face him and pulled her in close against the broad muscular wall of his chest. So close that even in the semidarkness, she could see the fine silk threads of his white cravat and the soft linen of his shirt. So close that she could smell the clean warm spice of his skin and the faint intoxicating hint of brandy on his breath. He’d just bathed, under his chapeau-bras the dark locks were still damp and curled more than normal.

“Going somewhere, Lady Georgina?” The dark timber of his voice reached deep inside her, setting off internal warning bells.

She collected herself as best she could under the circumstances. “Lord Coventry, what a surprise.” Her voice chirped, sounding unnaturally high and breathless even to her own ears.

“I’m sure it is.”

He jerked the arm still clasped in his hand so that she was forced to look up at him. Cautiously, she met his gaze. His face was taut. Tiny white lines were etched around his nose and mouth. But it was his eyes that made her breath catch deep in her throat. How could such beautiful blue, fringed with such delicate, long lashes, reflect such callousness?

He continued. “Just as I was surprised when I came home to find that I’d hired three new servants and my private study was in the midst of an unplanned ‘redecoration.’”

“Do you like it?” The devil prompted her to ask. “It’s not finished yet, of course—” She stopped when she noticed his expression.

His face had turned thunderous. His nostrils flared and the bulging vein in his neck pulsed. She drew in her breath, waiting, knowing that he was perilously close to losing control. She bit her lip. Taunting him probably wasn’t such a great idea. But it was fun. It was nothing at all like needling the usual milksops that frequented Almack’s.

“I thought I’d warned you that I do not play games, Lady Georgina, nor am I interested in finding a wife.”

Gina shrugged off his hold, surprised when he released her. It gave her just enough confidence. “Even though you clearly need one? Your servants were overworked and your study could use a bit of freshening. I simply did what needed to be done.” She sniffed at the brandy on his breath. “And you drink too much.”

“Your impudence is astounding.”

“I was only trying to help,” she said defensively. She breathed deeply and took a gamble. “Do you deny that you needed to hire more servants or that your study could use some sprucing up?”
Or that you drink too much
? she added silently.

He studied her. Gina tried not to shuffle under the intense scrutiny. When he did not answer right away, she knew she’d scored her point.

“It was not your place to make the decision. Do not interfere with my business again.”

He turned to leave, but Gina couldn’t resist. “Or what?” Her words fell like the slap of a glove in the darkness.

He stopped and swung around to meet her challenge. A wicked gleam appeared in his eye. His hand reached toward her and Gina forced herself not to flinch. But he didn’t intend to strike her. No, he had something far more nefarious in mind.

Trapped by anticipation, she wasn’t sure what he meant to do, but she was equally unable to break away. She sucked in her breath at the first touch. The back of his finger slid down her shoulder along the bare skin of her arm. She shivered, the fine wisps of hair standing on end. Every nerve ending fired as awareness surged through her body.

Sensing her reaction, a slow, cruel smile curved his lips.

Her pulse quickened, but she stood there, paralyzed by an invisible force that held her captive. Slowly, so slowly she thought she was going to die from holding her breath, the back of his finger traced the heavy curve of her breast. Her skin tingled and a wave of something hot crashed over her. Her nipples hardened under the heavy weight of his gaze and desire fluttered low in her belly. The feathery graze was the most deeply erotic moment of her life.

And he knew it. He bent toward her and whispered huskily in her ear, “Or I’ll show you just what kind of man I am.”

He spoke so matter-of-factly that Gina knew it was not a threat, but a promise.

This time he got the last word. “And Lady Georgina, when I take what I want from you—the
only
thing I want from you—I won’t need a wedding ring to get it.”

He left her there standing in the moonlit garden, wanting. It wasn’t fear that made her shiver, but something far more dangerous. The horrible suspicion that he could be right.

He’d won the battle, but Coventry departed Almack’s feeling as if he’d lost the war. Touching her, teasing her had been a mistake. The softness of her skin, the heavy curve of her breast, her lightning quick response. She’d burst into flames at his merest touch.

God save him from twenty-year-old virgins. All that repressed energy just waiting to be unleashed. The temptation to be the one to unleash it was crushing.

He wanted her, and after touching her, his desire was far stronger than before. For now he knew what it was like to watch her quiver under his fingertip. To watch her lips part with surprise and her breath hitch with desire. He’d seen her eyes widen then glaze with arousal. He’d felt the generous curve of her breast and seen the bead of her tiny nipple outlined under the sheer fabric of her gown.

The experience had affected him much more than he wanted to admit. He adjusted his breeches. He was still painfully rigid. But he instructed his coachman to take him home, not bothering with Simone. He knew that she would not sate his lust. Not tonight. Not ever.

Right there and then Coventry vowed to find a new mistress. And if she happened to have delectable round breasts, ivory skin as soft and velvety as a peach, silky golden brown hair, deep-sea green eyes, a tiny turned up nose, and a wide, sensuous mouth, so much the better. Oh, and a well-placed freckle wouldn’t hurt.

Perhaps then he could dismiss the slip of a girl who inspired her.

It had taken a few minutes for her pulse to slow and her body to relax before she could return to the assembly room. She glanced around the room for Augusta, eventually finding her laughing shyly with Lord Ashley. That would never do. Gina frowned in her direction and Augusta appeared quickly at her side.

“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

Only my pride,
Gina thought. For the last few minutes had revealed a shameful weakness in Gina’s character: She was susceptible to a handsome face—even if that handsome face was completely devoid of honor and integrity. What other reason could explain the intensity of her response? He’d lit the fires of her passion as easily as if he’d struck a match.