Cold-Hearted Rake Read online

  The Arabian twisted and bucked, and Theo was flung from the saddle. His body snapped like a length of toweling before hitting the ground with sickening force.

  Kathleen staggered the last few yards before she reached his still form, already knowing it was too late. Falling to her knees, she stared into the face of her dying husband.

  But it wasn’t Theo.

  A scream scalded her throat.

  Kathleen awakened from the dream and fought to sit up amid the tangle of sheets. Her breath came in hard, corroded bursts. Unsteadily she wiped her wet face with a clutch of the counterpane, and rested her head on her bent knees.

  “It wasn’t real,” she whispered to herself, waiting for the terror to die down. She eased back to the mattress, but the knotted muscles in her back and legs wouldn’t allow her to lie flat.

  Sniffling, she rolled to her side and sat up again. She let one leg slip over the edge of the mattress, and then the other. Stay in bed, she told herself, but her feet were already lowering. The moment they touched the floor, there was no turning back.

  Swiftly she left her room and rushed through the darkness, with ghosts and memories at her heels.

  She didn’t stop until she had reached the master bedroom.

  Even as her knuckles rapped against the door, she regretted the impulse that had driven her there, and yet she couldn’t seem to make herself stop knocking until the door opened abruptly.

  She couldn’t see Devon’s face, only his huge, dark shape, but she could hear the familiar baritone of his voice.

  “What’s wrong?” He pulled her inside the room and closed the door. “What happened?”

  His arms closed around her trembling body. As she pressed against him, she realized that he was naked except for the binding around his midriff. But he was so hard and warm and comforting that she couldn’t make herself pull away.

  “I had a nightmare,” she whispered, resting her cheek against the silky-coarse hair on his chest.

  She heard a soothing, indistinguishable murmur over her head.

  “I shouldn’t have bothered you,” she faltered. “I’m sorry. But it was so real.”

  “What did you dream about?” he asked gently, smoothing her hair.

  “The morning Theo died. I’ve had the same nightmare so many times. But tonight was different. I ran to him – he was on the ground – and when I looked down at his face, it wasn’t him, it was – it was —” She stopped with a sound of grief, closing her eyes more tightly.

  “Me?” Devon asked calmly, his hand shaping around the back of her head.

  Kathleen nodded with a hiccupping breath. “H-how did you know?”

  “Dreams have a way of tangling memories and worries together.” His lips brushed her forehead. “After all that’s happened recently, it’s not surprising that your mind would make connections to your late husband’s accident. But it wasn’t real.” Tilting her head back, he kissed her wet lashes. “I’m here. And nothing’s going to happen to me.”

  She let out a wobbly sigh.

  Devon continued to hold her until he felt her shaking ease. “Do you want me to take you back to your room?” he eventually asked.

  A long moment passed before Kathleen could respond. The right answer was yes, but the truthful one was no. Damning herself, she settled for a tiny shake of her head.

  Devon went still. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. Keeping one arm around her, he guided her to his bed.

  Riddled with guilt and pleasure, Kathleen climbed onto the mattress and slid beneath the warm weight of the covers.

  Devon lingered at the bedside. A match flared, the brief blue sizzle followed by the glow of candle flame.

  She tensed as Devon joined her beneath the covers. There was no doubt where this would lead: One did not share a bed with a naked adult in his robust masculine prime and expect to leave it a virgin. But she also knew where it would not lead. She had seen Devon’s face on Christmas Eve as she had held the tenant’s infant daughter. His expression had frozen for a brief, brutal instant of dread.

  If she chose to let this go any farther, she would have to accept that whatever his plans were for the estate, they did not include marrying and siring children.

  “This isn’t an affair,” she said, more to herself than to him. “It’s only one night.”

  Devon lay on his side, a lock of hair falling over his forehead as he looked down at her. “What if you want more than that?” he asked huskily.

  “It still won’t be an affair.”

  His hand caressed her over the covers, charting the shape of her hips and stomach. “Why does the word matter?”

  “Because affairs always end. So calling it that would make it more difficult when one of us wants to leave.”

  Devon’s hand stilled. He looked down at her, his blue eyes as dark as pitch. Candlelight flickered over the hard, high planes of his cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere.” He took her jaw in his hand, his mouth covering hers in a strong, urgent kiss – a kiss of ownership. She opened to him, letting him do as he wished, while he searched her with aggressive ardor.

  Pulling the covers away from her body, he bent over her chest. His breath was like steam as it penetrated the thin cambric of her nightgown, causing her nipple to rise. He touched the aching point with his fingers, shaping the tightening flesh before he covered it with his mouth and licked through the fabric. The cambric turned wet beneath his tongue, cooling against the tight bud as he drew back and blew gently.

  Moaning, she reached for the placket of tiny buttons that held her bodice together, trying to open them with frantic tugs.

  Devon took her wrists and pinned them at her side, easily holding her captive as he continued to suck and nibble over the gown. His body settled between her spread thighs, the weight of him hard and stimulating. As she wriggled and strained against his hold, she felt his shaft swelling tighter against her, the luscious friction making them both breathless.

  Releasing her wrists, Devon turned his attention to the line of buttons at her bodice and began to unfasten them with meticulous care. The hem of her nightgown had ridden up to her hips. She could feel the taut, intimate heat of his shaft brushing her inner thigh.

  By the time the last button was freed, Kathleen was weak and gasping.

  Finally Devon pulled the garment over her head and tossed it aside. Kneeling with his folded legs spread beneath her thighs, he stared intently at her flame-gilded body. Modesty burned through her as she realized it was the first time he’d seen her completely naked. Her hands moved reflexively to cover herself. He caught them and held them wide.

  God, the way he stared at her, harsh and tender, his gaze devouring.

  “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” His voice was slightly hoarse. Letting go of her hands, he reached down to touch her with spread fingertips that slid over her stomach in burning trails, down to the feathery triangle between her legs. A silent moan stuck in her throat as he played with her, combing through wispy curls, delving to the private skin beneath.

  Her hands fisted and fell to her sides. The rhythm of his breathing had roughened with lust, but his hands stayed gentle, teasing softly furled edges of pink and white, kneading with his thumbs, stroking her open. The sensations slid all through her, until she couldn’t keep from writhing and twisting helplessly upward.

  Flattening a palm on her stomach, he murmured, “Settle.” His fingertips slid between her thighs, stroking just above the peak of her sex, awakening delicate throbs of heat. She shivered, her legs closing on either side of his hips.

  His thumb swirled at the entrance of her body, gathering wetness before returning to the swelling peak.

  It was utterly wicked, the things he knew.

  Closing her eyes, she turned her blazing face away while he toyed and teased, eliciting more wetness and fullness until her sex was achingly sensitive. She felt his thumb slide down again, circling and stroking… pressing inside her. It stung as he nudged deeper
into the tight-rimmed tenderness. But he was exquisitely gentle, his fingers splaying over the mound and massaging in a deliberate rhythm. She gasped at the sensation, pleasure turning her insides molten, her buttocks tensing and relaxing in shameless craving, her insides molten with pleasure.

  His hand pulled away, and she whimpered in protest. The dark shape of his head and broad shoulders loomed over her as he gripped her knees and pushed them apart. Her hips rolled upward until her sex was brazenly displayed. She heard herself groan as he bent over her, his tongue dragging moistly along the soft slit. Reaching the peak of her sex, he suckled and stroked without mercy, sending bliss racing through every nerve, driving her relentlessly until release broke and flooded her.

  As the climax eased into quicksilver splashes, she felt Devon lowering her hips to the mattress. He kissed her mouth, his tongue salted with a subtle erotic savor. She let her hands wander down to the tough-banded muscle of his stomach, hesitantly touching the stiff length of his erection. It was harder than she had thought human flesh could be, the skin silkier than silk. To her surprise, a distinct pulse beat strongly against her fingers.

  With a low sound, Devon settled more heavily between her legs, pushing them wider.

  Awkwardly she guided him into place. He pressed until her body began to yield, persisting even as she shrank away from the sharpening ache. He pushed inside the soft, clenching tightness until she gave a faint openmouthed cry, going rigid at the burn of it.

  Devon held still, muttering endearments and reassurances. Trying to soothe her, he caressed her hips and thighs, while her body closed over his in knifelike throbs. He gathered her closer, his belly against hers, the heat of him deep inside. Gradually her inner muscles weakened as if recognizing the uselessness of resisting.

  “There,” he whispered as he felt her relaxing. He kissed her jaw and throat, and stared down at her as he began to move in slow, careful lunges. Pleasure misted his hard features and emblazoned fresh color across the crests of his cheeks. As he reached the flashpoint, he fastened his mouth over hers, while his body worked in vehement shudders.

  Withdrawing, he crushed his hard wet length against her stomach. A wash of heat spread between them, while he buried his face in her hair with a groan.

  Kathleen held him tightly, savoring the tremors of satisfaction that ran through him. When he recovered his breath, he kissed her lazily, a sated male enjoying his plunder.

  Eventually Devon left the bed and returned with a cup of water and a damp cloth. While she drank thirstily, he wiped away the evidence of their lovemaking. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, as the cloth stroked over the sore place between her thighs.

  Kathleen handed him the empty cup. “I was worried about you,” she confessed. “I was afraid you might injure yourself.”

  He grinned, setting the cup and cloth aside. “How?” he scoffed. “By falling out of bed?”

  “No, with all that vigorous activity.”

  “That wasn’t vigorous. That was restrained.” Joining her on the bed, he pulled her against him, his hands wandering boldly over her. “Tomorrow night,” he said, kissing her shoulder, “I’ll show you some vigor.”

  Circling her arms around his head, she pressed her lips against his vibrant dark hair. “Devon,” she said warily, “I probably won’t want to share a bed tomorrow night.”

  His head lifted as he glanced at her with concern. “If you’re too sore, I’ll just hold you.”

  “It’s not that.” She stroked back a lock that had fallen over his forehead. “As I told you, I can’t have an affair.”

  Devon’s gaze turned baffled. “I think we’d better start defining terms,” he said slowly. “Now that we’ve slept together, what difference does it make if we do it again tomorrow night?”

  Wondering how to make him understand, she chewed her bottom lip. “Devon,” she asked eventually, “what is the pattern of your usual relationships with women?”

  He clearly disliked the question. “There’s no pattern.”

  She gave him a skeptical glance. “I’m sure they all began the same,” she said in a neutral tone. “You took an interest in someone, and after some flirtation and pursuit, you eventually seduced her.”

  His brows lowered. “They were always willing.”

  Gazing at the magnificently formed man beside her, Kathleen smiled slightly. “I’m sure they were,” she said. “It’s certainly no hardship to go to bed with you.”

  “Then why —”

  “Wait,” she murmured. “How long did it usually last after you took up with someone? A few years? A few days?”

  “On average,” he said curtly, “a matter of months.”

  “And during that time, you visited the lady’s bed whenever it was convenient. Until you eventually grew tired of her.” She paused. “I assume you were usually the one to end it?”

  He gave her an outright scowl. “I’m beginning to feel as if I’m at Chancery Court.”

  “I assume that means yes.”

  Devon’s arms withdrew, and he sat up. “Yes. I was always the one to end it. I would bring her a parting gift, tell her I would always treasure the memories, and then I left with all possible haste. What has any of that to do with us?”

  Drawing the sheets higher over her breasts, Kathleen said frankly, “That’s what I mean when I say I don’t want an affair. I don’t want you to assume I’ll be available whenever you wish to satisfy your needs. I don’t want either of us to have any claim on the other. I don’t want complications or the possibility of scandal, and I don’t want a parting gift.”

  “What the devil do you want?”

  Diffidently she began to fold the edge of the sheet into tiny fanlike pleats. “I suppose… I would like to spend a night with you every now and then, when we both desire it. With no obligations or expectations.”

  “Define ‘every now and then.’ Once a week?”

  She shrugged and let out a nonplussed laugh. “I wouldn’t want to schedule it. Couldn’t we just allow it to happen simply and naturally?”

  “No,” Devon said stonily. “Men like schedules. We don’t like unanswered questions. We’d rather know what’s going to happen and when.”

  “Even in matters of intimacy?”

  “Especially in matters of intimacy. Damn it, why can’t you be like other women?”

  Kathleen’s lips quirked with a wry, regretful smile. “And give you all the control? Hop into bed whenever you snap your fingers, as often as you wish, until you lose interest in me? And then I suppose I should stand at the door waiting for my good-bye present?”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw, while his eyes flashed. “I wouldn’t treat you like that.”

  Of course he would. That was how he had always treated women.

  “I’m sorry, Devon, but I can’t do it your way. We’ll have to do it my way, or not at all.”

  “I’m damned if I even understand what your way is,” he grated.

  “I’ve made you angry,” she said regretfully, beginning to sit up. “Shall I leave?”

  Devon pushed her back down and leaned over her. “Not on your life.” He stripped away the sheet in an abrupt motion. “Since I have no idea when I’ll be allowed to bed you next, I have to make the most of my opportunities.”

  “But I’m sore,” she protested, reflexively covering her breasts and groin with her hands.

  His head lowered. “I won’t hurt you,” he growled against her belly. He nibbled at the edge of her navel, and then his tongue slipped inside the little hollow, making her gasp. He repeated it deliberately, and again, until he felt her quiver.

  As his mouth worked downward, her heart began to pound and her vision blurred. Her hands slid away and her thighs loosened, parting easily as he spread them. With diabolical gentleness, he aroused her with lips, teeth, tongue, bringing her to the edge of fulfillment but never letting her go over. He held her between his elbows, the maddening teasing continuing until she heard herself begging. His to
ngue thrust in silky-wet penetrations, deep and steady, stroking her into a series of wrenching spasms. Reaching down, she clamped her trembling hands around his skull, holding him to her. He licked at the taste of her as if he couldn’t have enough, and she purred and arched, her nerves dancing in response. As her pulse quieted, she stretched beneath him with a sigh of exhaustion.

  He began again.

  “No,” she said with a shaky laugh. “Devon, please…”

  But he was tugging at her sensitive flesh, so relentless and determined that she could only surrender with a groan. The candle burned down and shadows reclaimed the room, until there was nothing left but darkness and pleasure.