The Perfect Rake (49 page)

True love grew and grew. To love and be loved like that was what she’d yearned for all her life.

She had to know. She would have to ask him. But it was so difficult to ask. She sighed again.

“That’s the third time you’ve sighed in as many minutes. What is it, my Prudence?” His voice was tender, concerned.

“I need…I need to ask you something.”

“Oh?”

She hurried on, “It is a little difficult to ask, after such a night of…of blissful splendor—”

“Blissful splendor, eh?”

She felt herself blushing. “Yes. But when you asked me the other day in Lady Augusta’s parlor, to…to live with you and be your love, what exactly what did you mean?”

He was silent, so she hurried to explain. “Oh, I know you very kindly claimed me as your fiancée when Phillip let me down so publicly. And I know you told Grandpapa I was your wife-to-be, and so I know you are obliged to—um—because I know you are truly noble at heart and will marry me to protect me. So I am not doubting your intentions.”

His eyes darkened.

“But back then, in Bath, in Lady Augusta’s parlor, did you actually mean to invite me to be your mistress?”

He stared at her and she squirmed slightly in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, but I do need to know. It’s all right if you did…” It wasn’t really all right, but she desperately needed to know the truth. “I just…need to clarify matters. In my mind. I know it will not change anything. Just, please tell me.” She found she was wringing her hands, quite painfully. She stopped, folding them in a ladylike fashion in her lap.

“Have you finished, Imp?”

She looked up from her folded hands. “Y-yes.”

He reached out and took her hand in his. Prudence braced herself to accept an unpalatable truth with dignity.

“Firstly, let me make one thing quite clear. I did
not
ask you to become my mistress. Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Phillip said—”

He shook his head. “I might have known. I thought all that was the past.”

She bit her lip and nodded. “I know. It is. I’m sorry. And at first I did believe that you had asked me—very indirectly—to marry you. But then he pointed out you’d only spoken of protection, and said, ‘Come live with me and be my love and we shall all the pleasures prove.’” Her cheeks heated again as her body remembered the previous night when he had proved pleasures beyond any imagining. “Well, I wasn’t sure anymore.”

He closed his eyes, put his head in his hands, and made a sound halfway between a laugh and a moan. When he opened his eyes again, they were darkly rueful. “That piece of verse, my dearest love, was not a rake asking you to be his mistress but a poor, hopeless fool desperately in love for the first and last time in his life, and making a terrible mull of his first-ever marriage proposal.”

Prudence could not breathe.
My dearest love? In love for the first and last time in his life? Desperately in love?

He shook his head and smiled apologetically. “I am not very good at proposing, you see—haven’t had a lot of practice. I was desperate to win you, but it wasn’t going well. I thought poetry would help.” He let go of her, and ran a hand through his hair. “God help me, I thought it was romantic!”

“Oh, but it was, it is!” Prudence clutched his hands again. “I’m sorry I doubted you. It was just—”

“My regrettable past, I know. I am not a rake anymore. There is only one woman in the world for me: my Prudence.”

And there, in the jolting carriage, he knelt down at her feet, took her hand in his, and said, “My dearest love, will you please say you will marry me and make me the happiest man on earth?”

“Oh, yes,” she breathed. She could not see him clearly for tears. “Yes, please. Oh, I am so glad! It was so distressing to find I still had doubts, even after we, we…um…” She paused, still not having a word for what they had done together.

“Had a moment of blissful splendor?” he prompted, rising, his eyes laughing, yet tender.

“Yes, that.” Filled with feelings that had to burst from her or explode, she flung herself at his chest and they fell back on the seat. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him hard. On the mouth. On the chin. On the jaw. On the mouth again.

“I love you, Gideon. I love you so much.”

“Oh Prue,” he groaned, “you are my life, my love, my heart.”

Oh, but he tasted good. And he felt wonderful.

Her hands, her mouth, grew greedy with pleasure and desire. She wanted more of him. “May I open your shirt?”

He grinned. “You may open anything you wish.”

“It is just that I wish to touch more of you; you feel so very nice,” she explained as she tugged his shirt open.

“So do you, love.” He reached for her but she stopped him.

“Not yet. This is my turn. Sit still, please.”

He sat back, his eyes dancing. “Bossy little creature, aren’t you?”

Her hands roamed over him, learning him, delighting in his differences, the hard angled muscles of his body, the rough friction of hair where she was smooth, the powerful strength of him where she was soft.

Remembering what he had done to her, she licked his skin, tentatively at first. She ran his taste around in her mouth, savoring it. So this was the taste of love. A little salty, a little tangy and dangerous, yet with an underlying rightness. His chest was all firm planes, lightly sprinkled with dark hair, wonderfully abrasive. She spotted a tiny disk of raised, dusky skin; like her in a way, and yet so very unlike. Remembering how exquisitely pleasurable it had been when he took her nipple into his mouth, she touched her tongue to it and licked. He moaned with pleasure.

It was a most satisfactory sound. She felt filled with feminine power. She moved to the other nipple and repeated the process, licking and sucking. Beneath her she felt his arousal thrusting against her. What a shame they would have to wait. She rubbed her body against him and he groaned again.

“You’re killing me, Prue.”

“Mmm,” she purred against his chest. She licked his nipple once more, then bit him there lightly, experimentally. His body bucked beneath her, and all his restraint dissolved.

His mouth took hers, his hands caressed her feverishly, running down her back, her sides, her buttocks. Each time he shook and arched against her, an echoing response rippled through her, and a growing tension and a kind of aching hollowness intensified deep within her. And he had taught her last night, and again this morning, what that had meant. She felt her skirts being pushed higher.

“Gideon? In a carriage?”

“Yes, love, in a carriage.”

Prudence smiled to herself. She had a lot to learn, she could see. She would not have to wait for the shift and glide of his body deep within hers. How quickly it had become familiar. No, not familiar—necessary. She craved it, craved his touch, craved their joining. With eager hands she unbuttoned his breeches. No nervous conversation this time. Softly, tentatively, she reached out to touch him. He groaned with pleasure and pushed against her hand. With growing confidence she explored him, explored his heat and power, silk over steel.

He moaned, and without warning lifted her to settle over his lap. He still amazed her with his ability to lift her as if she weighed nothing at all. But then she forgot to think anything at all, as gently, surely, he guided her to where she wanted him to be. He lowered her onto him and showed her how to move.

Rhythm. Power. Passion. Possession.

She flung back her head and let it engulf her…

“Dereham always was a dreary, joyless creature, but this is appalling, even for him.” Lady Augusta hugged Prudence yet again. She’d done it frequently since Prudence and Gideon had arrived home several days before. “But you’re safe and sound now with those who love you.”

Prudence hugged her back, unable to say a word. She’d come a long way since the gray days at Dereham Court. Her world was brimming with love. She was surrounded by it, filled with it, incandescent with it. In truth she had almost forgotten the terrible trip with Grandpapa. It was days ago now. Blissful days, awash with love and stolen moments of ecstasy. Gideon loved her. She was going to marry him.

“Bats in the belfry!” Great-uncle Oswald announced. He had arrived from Norfolk a few minutes before. They were all gathered in the front room at Lady Augusta’s house. He shook his head. “Goes to show!”

Prudence and Gideon looked at each other blankly. “I don’t follow you, Sir Oswald,” Gideon said.

“Rats in the attic!” he explained. Then, when they still looked blank, he said, “My brother, Theodore. Talkin’ all sorts o’ rubbish. Ravin’ on and on about Prudence and the others! Mixin’ Prudence up with her mother.” He shook his head again.

“He hated my mother,” Prudence commented. “He blamed her for enticing my father away from Dereham Court, never to return.”

Great-uncle Oswald snorted. “Your mother had nothin’ to do with it. Your father left the Court for the same reason I did: because Theodore was such a demmed impossible swine to live with!”

There was a short silence.

“You’re all thinkin’ I should never have let him take charge of five little gels, and you’re right.” He mopped his forehead with a handkerchief. “Thing is, he was a difficult fellow to get along with then, but it was a natural difference of opinion. I couldn’t stand havin’ m’brother lordin’ it over me as if he were my father. He got worse over time. Losin’ your father—his sole heir—put him in a rage for years.” He looked at them ruefully. “Maybe that’s when he started to go peculiar. Maybe the rats have been gnawin’ at his upper stories all this time.”

“You mean you think he is insane?” asked Gideon bluntly.

Great-uncle Oswald nodded. “That’s the word with no bark on it. Thought he was a little unbalanced when I saw him in London, but he’s always hated being thwarted. Now—” He grimaced. “Ravin’ on about Prudence. Threatening to kill her. Swearin’ about her breedin’ bastards—forgive the language, m’dear.” He turned to Gideon. “He’s even carryin’ on about Prudence putting him in debtors’ prison, for heaven’s sake, and if anyone’s to blame for that, it’s himself!”

“Yes, he mentioned debtors’ prison,” Prudence said. “I don’t understand.”

Great-uncle Oswald looked grave. “No easy way to put this, so I’ll just spit it out. It seems he’s embezzled your fortune, Prue—your sisters’, too. That’s why he kidnapped you. With your twenty-first birthday next week, and you assumin’ guardianship of your sisters, Theodore thought if he locked you away, he’d get ’em all back and nobody would find out!”

Prudence started. “You mean we have no money? My sisters and I are—”

“Calm down, missy. You’ll have your inheritance. I’ll sort it all out and put everythin’ back in place, never you fret. Everything invested in the funds, safe and sound, and a little more besides.”

“Oh, but you cannot be expected to—”

“Pish, tosh!” He waved his hand in airy dismissal of her objections. “You gels will inherit my fortune when I pop off, so what’s the difference? Besides, I’ve got a lot to make up for, leavin’ you with Theodore all these years. I ought to have kept a closer eye on you, but I didn’t, and I’ll have to live with the guilt of that. I can’t make it up to you, but I can do this, at least, so no argument, missy.” He blew his nose again, a long, definitive blast.

Lady Augusta put the question in all their minds. “So what will happen now?”

Great-uncle Oswald sighed. “I’ll not put my brother in Bedlam for all the world to gawk at, but I’ve got him safely locked away at Dereham. Get some reliable staff in to take care of him. A Dr. Gibson has agreed to oversee the matter.” He looked around the small gathering and said, “Well, I can’t have him wanderin’ loose, the way he’s behavin’. He’ll kill someone! He’s stark-starin’ mad, m’dears.” He paused, looked at his nails, and added casually, “Why, you wouldn’t believe what Theodore did to young Clotterbury when he came callin’.”

“Otterbury called on him!” exclaimed Gideon. “Whatever for?”

Great-uncle Oswald shrugged. “Seemed to think Theodore owed him somethin’ for tellin’ him that Prudence and the gels were in Bath.”

There was an outbreak of indignation at this.

“I hope you showed the vile little tick the door,” exclaimed Lady Augusta hotly.

“Oh, no,” Great-uncle Oswald said innocently. “I agreed with him. He
was
owed somethin’.”

“Oswald! How could you?” Lady Augusta exclaimed in disgust.

“So I showed him in to see Theodore.” He buffed one nail carefully with a tiny chamois buffer and added, “And locked the door, of course. Can’t let m’brother roam free, y’know.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, well, there was a lot of shoutin’ and bangin’ and crashin’ around, but I’m not the sort of fellow who listens at doors. Manners, you know. I came back, half an hour later, thinkin’ they’d finished the interview, and when I opened the door—the most peculiar thing! Young Clotterbury had got himself all dirtied up. Shockin’, the state he was in. Bleedin’ from the nose—I fancy Theodore broke it for him—and one of his ears looked bitten. Most odd! He’d lost a tooth or two, and the rest of him was black and blue. His natty outfit was in shreds, too, positive shreds. And all the buttons ripped off.” He shook his head in sorrow. “Beautiful clothes they were, too. Must have cost him a pretty penny. And Theodore ruined them. Clotterbury staggered out of there and scuttled off home, lookin like somethin’ the cat coughed up.” He gave them all a smile of wicked innocence. “Got his reward, didn’t he? Never let it be said that a Merridew didn’t pay his debts.”

Gideon gave a crack of laughter and hugged Prudence.

Lady Augusta clapped her hands. “Excellent work, Oswald. I, too, have taken young Otterbury’s future in hand. Maudie’s friends are his employers, you know, and we’ve arranged a nice posting for him. A small island in the southern hemisphere, rather distant, but delightfully peaceful. Supervising sheep, I believe. Sadly, his wife and child-to-come won’t be able to accompany him…I’m told the island is hideously wind-blasted…”

There was another outbreak of laughter.

Lady Augusta nodded in satisfaction. “Now, enough about those dreary men. Oswald, we have a wedding to plan!”