To Rescue or Ravish? (8 page)

He kissed her hair. “You have no more control over your attraction to me than I have over mine for you.” He took his time undoing the ties at the back of her gown, and buried his nose in the fragrant softness of her hair.

He set her off his lap and drew her to her feet. She didn’t try to stop him from removing the gown.

For the second time that evening, he turned her to unlace her stays. “That’s why I planned to wriggle my way into society and meet you again.” He kissed her neck.

She stilled. “But you loathe the—the nobs.”

He moved her to face him again. “After thieving and gambling my way to affluence because of you, what else could I do?” Her eyes widened; her lips parted invitingly. He took advantage, kissing her long and slowly, and dropped the stays to the ground. “I didn’t much like the thieving. Imagine if I’d come a-knocking, begging you to become a footpad’s wife.”

Her breasts swayed under her shift. “I should have lain awake every night, terrified that you’d been caught.”

The hard little peaks of her nipples tempted him beyond endurance. “But I wasn’t caught—” He bent and sucked on one, cloth and all. She gasped, quivering. “Neither at that nor at burglary.” He tongued the other nipple. “And you didn’t marry, and eventually I became a tavern-keeper last year. But neither your uncle nor your trustee would have accepted me even then—”

“My uncle and trustee have no say in the matter! I like your tavern. And your friends!”

“And they like you. I thought I didn’t have much pride, but I suppose there’s a little of the nob in me even now. I didn’t want to be seen as a fortune hunter, and by what I’d heard, you wouldn’t have accepted me, either. But you’d never married, which encouraged me to believe I was safe waiting until my fortune rivalled yours.”

“But I’ve been so horrid,” she said.

“Bella, in my heart I knew that icicle wasn’t you.” He paused, wishing he didn’t have to broach it, but there wasn’t a choice. The air had to be cleared completely. “About the tantrums and beating of servants, I’ve narrowed it down to either malicious gossip or a ruse.”

She bit her lip.

“I knew it!” he said. “A ruse.”

She giggled, and his heart soared. “One night I was at my wits’ end. I’d actually come to enjoy one of my suitors, because he was such a kind, intelligent man, and he’d told Uncle Wilbur that he would call upon me the next day. I had to find a way to frighten him off. My maid helped me cook up a plan. Chalmers would make sure the suitor heard me pretending to have a tantrum—shrieking abuse at my maid. He would then hurry the suitor out of the way, acting as if that sort of thing happened all the time.”

Matt snorted. Then snickered. Then laughed out loud. “Oh, excellently done!”

“We thought so. It worked several times after that—even better when I beat a chair with a switch. Chalmers advised the suitors to look elsewhere if they wanted a peaceful married life, and he and my maid and footman gossiped about me at their local tavern to make sure the word spread.”

“Thus convincing the whole of London,” he said, shaking his head.

“My uncle found out and threatened to dismiss them,” she said. “I couldn’t risk their livelihoods. That’s why I came out tonight alone.”

“We’ll bring all three of them to work for us, shall we? Bella, my sweet, I do love you so.”

“I love you, too.” She put her arms around his neck. “Forever and ever, with all my heart.”

He kissed her hard, and then lingeringly. “Let’s get married right away.”

She laughed a little wildly, and her voice faltered. “Right away.” She rallied. “But you must swear to make up for years of neglecting my breasts.”

“I’ll pay them all the attention they could possibly desire and more.” He swept her off her feet and carried her to the bed. “Starting now.”

* * * * *

About the Author

Barbara Monajem grew up in western Canada. She wrote her first story, a fantasy about apple tree gnomes, when she was eight years old, and dabbled in neighbourhood musicals at the age of ten. At twelve, she spent a year in Oxford, England, soaking up culture and history, grubbing around at an archaeological dig, playing twosy-ball against the school wall, and spending her pocket money on adventure novels. Thanks to her mother, she became addicted to Regency romances as well. Back in Canada, she wrote some dreadful teen melodrama, survived high school, and studied English literature at the University of British Columbia. She spent several years in Montreal and published a middle grade fantasy when her children were young. Now her kids are adults, and she writes historical and paranormal romance for grownups. She lives in Georgia, USA, with an ever-shifting population of relatives, friends, and feline strays.

ISBN: 9781408995549

To Rescue or Ravish?

© Barbara Monajem 2012

First Published in Great Britain in 2012
Harlequin (UK) Limited
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