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“Perhaps you might have assumed I was unattached because I had been hurt in the past. The simple truth is that I had never tried to cultivate a lasting relationship as the beauty of being a rake is that both parties know what to expect, and that one wasn’t required to call with flowers the next day.”
The man was scarred—hurt with a fear lodged so deeply inside him that Anastasia did not know if she or anyone could remove it. Perhaps, it would be best to curb the attachment she felt for him before.
Pulling away, she wondered if she could offer some sort of deal—but could she honestly offer a meaningless entanglement when she was already merrily skipping down that road?
“Perhaps we should negotiate,” she murmured.
His head cocked to the side, and his hands cradled her jaw. “Tell me.”
“How long do you think we shall need to keep this façade going?” Anastasia asked.
“At least another four weeks,” he replied, “and then you or I can have the leeway to break it.”
She nodded slowly. “And until then I have an odd request. Since I will need to wed soon anyway, and I find myself a little lacking experience, not to mention I do love kissing you—will you teach me the finer art of seduction?"
Gabriel’s eyes grew bright, but his voice was husky. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”
Anastasia swallowed, “Very.”
“Any caveats, Ana?” he asked. “Any limits? Two kisses per night?”
“Four. As for the other acts, my permissions will have to be given on the commencement of the act. If at any time, beginning or middle I say I am uncomfortable, you will stop. And there will be public display of affection, so family will be comforted we are true to the courtship—kisses so chaste that they might hardly be called a kiss.”
“Why, my dear,” his eyes roamed over her, “what a skilled negotiator you are.”
“I hardly call it skilled when I am offering you what you want anyhow.” Her cheeks heated. “What do you say?”
“Agreed,” he dipped his head to kiss her hand.
Anastasia had sprung the gate and let the raging bull out of the pen. There were so many things different about this girl, he could hardly name them. She was quiet yet quick, beautiful but humble, smart but did not go around showing it, passionate but not worldly.
Her mouth was a sweet escape he could not get enough of, and in his deepest thoughts, that terrified him; yet here he was, kissing this woman like a dying man.
She was so damn beautiful, it nearly knocked him off his feet. He was a monster after all, and he felt like the devil for all the ways he wanted to use her body to seek the pleasure and happiness he did not deserve.
Pulling away, a mere breath from her lips, he coasted a thumb on the small divot of her chin. “We should return to the party. I am sure someone has noticed our absence by now.”
Brushing his hair from his eyes, Anastasia said, “I know. My aunt is attending a musicale tomorrow’s night at Dowager Marchioness Danvers’s house. Will you come? I would love to spend some time with you at something other than these dratted balls.”
He took her hand from his jaw and kissed it. “I shall be there.”
This time, instead of sending her before him, Gabriel took her arm and walked with her down the stairs while her maid followed. Fans flickered out of course. and this moment would probably feed gossip over breakfast the next morning, but no one could find them guilty of having arendezvous.
Venturing first to the refreshment table, Gabriel spotted Lord Portland over in a corner with Anastasia’s snobbish cousin Margaret speaking with him. They two were alike in so many ways; both setting their caps too high for them to reach, and both expecting the world from anyone without having to give it back.
His brows lowered—was she flirting with him? After a moment, he ignored them. Who cared? They deserved each other.
A new set was called, and he took Anastasia’s hand. “May I have this dance?”
The next evening, promptly at seven, Gabriel turned up at Lady Danver’s house. The Lady’s townhome in Grosvenor Park was new, well, as far as stately London homes went. The soft gray stone and the large, mullioned windows were inviting. Ivy riotously scaled the walls as if held on by sheer will, nearly reaching the four-story-high roof.
Last night, after the ball, Gabriel still found himself stunned at Ana’s request. Four weeks to train her in the arts of seduction had set a fire under his skin that nothing could douse, not even the cold bath he’d had that night.
Even submerged in what was tantamount to ice, he still had felt aroused enough to pleasure himself at the thoughts of the many,manyacts he would have with her. The release had felt paltry, and now he needed to have her in his arms.
When he did get sight of her, his breath hitched; her hair was down around her shoulders— probably to hide the mark he had left on her skin— with becoming wisps framing her face and tiny flowers woven between the strands. She wore the most beautiful high-waisted ivory silk gown seeded with pearls and a single pair of demure pearl earrings.
Smart, sensual, and utterly stunning—Gabriel felt the blistering red burn of jealousy rip his chest apart at thought of any other man being with her. He didn’t want anyone tasting the sweetness he had only sampled with her.
