“Perhaps more than a little.” He slid her heavy footman’s coat off her shoulders and onto the floor. “But, good Lord, woman, I can’t even prevent you from traipsing about Paris and London in men’s britches.” His hands moved around her waist and his fingers searching for the buttons at her waistband, and as he found them he murmured huskily. “Perhaps they do present some advantages.”
Rafe unlaced the men’s drawers beneath the britches and pushed both garments down around Alix’s ankles. She stepped out of them and closer to him, her arms reaching to close the distance remaining between them.
“God, you’re beautiful,” she murmured as she stretched on her toes to kiss him.
“Isn’t that the gentleman’s line?” he inquired in an amused voice before bending to take her lips.
Alix paused for the briefest moment, her hand slipping to his chest to hold him off. “It’s my choice, my lord, and I say you’re beautiful.”
With a laugh, he swooped down and covered her mouth, his hands sliding under the loose shirt and waistcoat, whichwere all that remained of her footman’s garb. “A most shocking abuse of Lady Melbourne’s livery, Alix,” he whispered nipping at her ear.
“Then perhaps,” she said, as her fingers began to work the buttons on his waistcoat, “You should remove them to avoid giving further offense.”
“An excellent decision, my love,” he murmured as he swept the remaining garments over her head. Smiling at her, he pulled off his own shirt and waistcoat and tossed them to the floor.
A wave of desire swept through Alix, and she placed both hands on his chest and pushed him back against his mahogany desk, sending his work fluttering to the floor like a fall of bleached leaves. Rafe leaned back on his elbows, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he gazed expectantly up at her.
She leaned over him and began to unfasten his britches and drawers, yanking them down over his tapered hips. As they fell against the thick carpet, her hands began stroking their way up the columns of his thighs. She heard Rafe’s breath quicken and he reached down and lifted her over him, straddling his hips. She unloosened her hair, and it fell like a silken net around them.
Crouching over his taut body, Alix took Rafe’s face in her hands and explored his features with her mouth, dropping kisses on his nose, his eyelids, the crease between his eyebrows before settling on his mouth. “I love you, Rafe Harcrest,” she whispered, glorying in the feel of him beneath her.
“I love you, Alexandre Charlotte de Rabec de La Brou Harcrest.” Rafe reached up and caught her around the hips, his thumbs trailing urgently over the lines of her waist and ribs, moving to cup her breasts. His circling caresses sent spiraling waves of sensation through her. She moanedsoftly, her body pulsing under his touch, the heat beginning to burn between her thighs.
He thrust his hips up at her, his erection pressed against the curve of her bottom. She reached down and caught him in her hand, her fingers stroking the heated length of him, and he whispered hoarsely, “Alix, what are you doing to me?”
“Making my own decisions, my lord,” she whispered.
She heard his breath quicken, then the sharp tug of his mouth on her nipples and she released him, and began stroking his body with her hips, brushing her damp curls against his belly and his thighs, circling, then settling gently against the length of his pulsing member. Slowly she slid against it, letting him feel the slick heat of her arousal. Rafe’s hands caught at her hips, urging her down on him.
Alix resisted, though as the waves of pleasure rippled through her, she knew it would not be for long. She dipped and rose against him, feeling him strain to follow her, like a stallion fighting the bit. She kissed him deeply and he thrust upward, catching her and entering her. She sank down against him, and he slid deeply within her. And suddenly it didn’t matter who was in control, who was leading and who was following, only that they were making love together.
Alix stretched herself against the length of him; he felt like home, she thought as the scent of his body and the warmth of his skin enveloped her. She felt one hand slide along her hip to press her firmly down, and another slip between her thighs to caress the sensitive folds between her legs. His thumb found the delicate tip of flesh, and with each gentle stroke sent searing streams of pleasure throughout her body. She arched against him, her hips shuddering with need.
“Fill me, Rafe,” she cried in an agonized whisper, “complete me.” His eyes grew dark and his breathing camein broken gasps that matched her own. She felt his muscles tighten as he arched upward, and she closed her eyes as red flowers blossomed behind her lids. Alix felt as if she’d been swept into something swirling and molten that did not burn, but only consumed. And as he bucked against her, crying out her name, she was certain that Rafe felt it, too. In that brief instant before it seemed they must surely be turned to ash and smoke, she opened her eyes and saw him looking at her with such passion and love that she knew if she could have this man forever it would be enough.
Twenty-Eight
Rafe watched Elizabeth dancing with James Dinsmore at Lord and Lady Landsdownes’s ball. The whole world, it seemed, knew he and Alexandre de La Brou would be wed in one month’s time. The ceremony, after much discussion, was to be at Lady Melbourne’s, though he would have preferred Moreham House. Still, the important thing was that everyone knew Alexandre de La Brou belonged with him. All evening he’d had his hand shaken and his back slapped by well-wishers, though he noticed with a bit of amusement that Lord Minton and Major Harris had been rather slow to offer their congratulations. He’d heard a rumor that Minton had composed a mournful ode bemoaning his loss, entitledSilver Tears. Thinking of it, Rafe couldn’t help a snort of laughter.
“You’re in fine spirits,” Cole Davenport remarked, strolling up beside him. “Understandably, considering you’ve managed to find your way back into your wife’s good graces. Though how such a lovely lady succumbed toyour cantankerous charms, has much of London mystified.” He raised his glass in a mock salute. “Still, my winnings from the betting at White’s will be a generous contribution towards your wedding gift Seems the odds had begun to tip in favor of the dashing Major Harris.”
Rafe snorted again.
“Pity,” Cole continued between sips of wine, “that Major Harris was unfamiliar with the motto on the Harcrest coat of arms.”
“What I claim is mine,” Rafe said glancing down with a smile at the ruby signet ring that once again adorned his right hand. Alix had no need for it now that she was wearing the betrothal ring he’d given her.
“Though I must admit the ton is quite buzzing with the haste of your nuptials.”
“Let them talk,” Rafe replied, “in a few months they’ll find some new bit of nonsense to chatter about.”
“No doubt fed to them by Anne Dinsmore.”
Rafe shook his head. “You misjudge Anne. She’s received the news that I intended to wed Alix quite gracefully.”
Cole frowned. “I’d still keep an eye out for that rock in the back of the head.”
The dance drew to a close and Cole and Rafe watched as James Dinsmore bent to whisper something in Elizabeth’s ear. She laughed and motioned with her fan in the direction of Rafe and Cole.
