The Angel and the Aristocrat by Merry Farmer

Chapter 7

Rafe was fairly certain that he’d fallen through the looking glass. Lady Fangfoss’s house party wasn’t supposed to be such a diversion for him. He was supposed to have been able to keep a clear head and go about the business of choosing a replacement for Lady Farrah to fill the role of Marchioness of Rothbury. He was supposed to enjoy rest and the company of his fellow gentlemen for a few weeks and then, hopefully, return home early, his purpose for being there accomplished.

Instead, he’d ended up spending most of his time being led around by the nose by Angeline. She had him playing games, participating in dances, dressing up in ridiculous costumes so that he could be sketched, and even—perish the thought—singing a duet with her during one of Lady Fangfoss’s required evening concerts. What in God’s name was wrong with him? He would have to make an appointment with his physician the moment he returned to London.

But no, that wasn’t his problem, and he knew it. When Angeline left the aftermath of the concert early, claiming her head ached from all the singing and she would like to go to bed early, Rafe felt strangely bereft. He’d spent more than enough time with her in the last few weeks to determine that she was lovely, genuine, and most likely the perfect marchioness, so bidding her goodnight and watching her hurry out of the room—and sending him a mischievous grin over her shoulder before she turned the corner, which was odd—shouldn’t have left quite such a gaping hole in his heart. It did though, so much so that he found himself rubbing his chest.

“Is something the matter, old chap?” Lord Fangfoss asked, sidling up to Rafe as though he already knew the answer to the question.

“Er…no,” Rafe said. “I am perfectly well, my lord.” He tried an overly formal bow to see if that would get the man to go away.

It didn’t.

“It’s only that I saw the way you glanced after Lady Angeline just now,” Fangfoss went on. “And I observed the perfect harmony between the two of you as you sang earlier.” He raised an eyebrow significantly.

“Lady Angeline is by far the more accomplished singer,” Rafe mumbled, searching for the line between too big of a compliment—which would give away his affections for certain—and too small of one—which would have the same effect, paradoxically. “If I sounded at all competent, it was only because she made me seem so.”

“I think it’s more than that,” Fangfoss chuckled. “I do believe my bride will have another feather in her cap as far as matches at this party of hers goes.”

“Quite,” Rafe said, but only because it seemed like the most banal thing he could say.

“But what is this about another letter I hear you received this morning?” Fangfoss went on.

Rafe drew in a breath, trying in vain to gather the last of his patience. The staff at Fangfoss Manor had proven themselves to be accomplished gossips. “It is nothing,” Rafe said through a clenched jaw.

“One would think that receiving a fourth letter from one’s former fiancée in as many weeks is hardly nothing, sir,” Fangfoss said, his eyes sparkling as though he enjoyed a bit of gossip too.

“I have not replied to any of them,” Rafe said. “My association with Lady Farrah is over, whether she has come to terms with that or not. Now, if you will excuse me, my lord, I see that boy, Ewan, trying to get into the flower arrangements, and I feel it is my duty to tell him off.”

Ewan—the little scamp seemed to be everywhere at the party, yet no one knew to whom he belonged—was indeed attempting to climb inside one of the potted palms in the conservatory, but Rafe had no interest in telling the boy off or joining him or anything. He used Ewan as an excuse to get as far away from Lord Fangfoss as possible. Perhaps Ewan had the right idea, and he should hide in a potted fern for the rest of the night.

The trouble was, everything Fangfoss said was deeply disturbing to Rafe. It was alarming enough that Lady Farrah continued to write to him. Each letter included increasingly desperate pleas for him to forgive her, return to her arms, and to marry her as soon as possible. Reading between the lines, Rafe had to assume that the disagreeable woman was suffering the consequences of her lascivious and duplicitous actions and that she needed to marry as soon as possible to prevent the further ruin of her reputation. He’d tried to have pity on her for making foolish decisions, but it was damn near impossible to truly feel sorry for someone who had dragged him through the mud along with her. He could only hope that the timing of her love child would be such that society would realize it couldn’t possibly be his.

The thought that he could be implicated in a bigger scandal soured Rafe’s mood even more. He tried to join in a few conversations about politics, the situation in South Africa, and speculation about what mad-capped idea for their entertainment Lady Fangfoss would have for them all next, but even the company of his fellow gentlemen didn’t ease his frustration. He kept finding himself glancing around, looking for Angeline, as if she would change her mind and come back to him. Er…that was…that she would come back to the conservatory to further enjoy the company of her friends.

Finally, he gave up. As soon as Wilton bowed out and was the first of the gentlemen to go up to bed, Rafe begged off as well. He was so eager to put the entire day behind him—except, perhaps, for singing with Angeline, which he would replay in his mind as many times as it took to ease his tension and enable him to fall asleep—and so he took the stairs two at a time, then strode down the hall to his bedroom at one corner of the house as though he were competing in a race.

He should have guessed that something was amiss from the moment he set foot in his room. The fire was lit at a low smolder, and the windows were open to let in the gentle night breeze. None of the lanterns that he usually asked the maid to keep lit so that he didn’t have to grope around a dark and unfamiliar room upon entry were lit, though. He should have been more curious about that instead of removing his jacket, tossing it over the chair by the fire, loosening his tie, and sitting to remove his shoes. He should have registered the slight rustle from the area of the bed as something more than a mouse skittering across the opposite end of the room. He’d grown up in Yorkshire, so mice were as insignificant as gnats to him. He definitely should not have been so quick to peel out of his waistcoat and shirt, or to remove his trousers, and to drag himself over to his bed in just his drawers.

His last thought as he grabbed the corner of the bedclothes to throw them back and climb in bed was that the maid who had made the bed earlier in the day had done poor job of it and left the thing lumpy. That assessment flew right out the window, along with most of his sanity, when his motion to throw back the bedclothes revealed Angeline lying in his bed.

Angeline lying naked in his bed.

His mind cracked entirely, and he stared down at her, jaw dropping open in both shock and awe. The question of what the devil the mad woman was doing in his bed—naked—was superseded only by the feeling that she was far and away the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life. Her petite form was absolute perfection. Her hips were shapely and her thighs were smooth and just plump enough that he thought he’d like to get his hands on them. Her breasts were gorgeous—round and soft with large nipples that he wanted in his mouth. Her skin glowed a perfect alabaster in the low light from the fireplace, and of course he couldn’t help by feast his eyes on the sight of the thatch of hair between her legs, wondering what marvels he might find there if he went looking.

All of those thoughts were followed immediately by the realization that he was staring at her like a ravenous wolf. Also, that his cock had jumped to life and now strained against his drawers. Further, that he wore only his drawers, which were of the thinnest cotton and did very little to hide the state of his arousal. And finally, that Angeline was gaping at his erection with a combination of fear and fascination.

It took Rafe far, far longer than it should have to sweep the bedclothes back over Angeline to cover her and to turn away from her while asking, “Angeline, what in heaven’s name are you doing here?” He strode away from the bed, searching frantically for his robe. For some horrific reason, he couldn’t find it.

“I’m here to seduce you,” Angeline said, almost as if declaring a triumph, and whisked the bedclothes away from her naked form once more.

“Seduce me?” Rafe blurted, his body flushing hot and his cock stiffening even more. “But…how? Why?”

“I would have thought the how would be obvious,” Angeline said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. She shifted on the bed and sat up, her legs tucked under her. She did not, however, make any effort whatsoever to cover herself, even when she crossed her arms. The gesture only highlighted her lovely, perfect breasts. “Although I must confess, this entire seduction business is more complicated than I imagined it to be.”

“More com—” Rafe didn’t even bother to finish his incredulous question. And where was his blasted robe anyhow? Of all the times for it to go missing. He gave up his search, figuring the situation was already so far out of hand that him addressing Angeline while nothing but a thin layer of cotton separated his cockstand from her view wasn’t going to make it any worse than it already was. He walked to the side of the bed, keeping his distance—although, increasingly, his body and his heart told him that if the lady wanted to be seduced….

He shook his head. “You do realize that if we are discovered like this, your reputation will be completely and utterly ruined, and, in all likelihood, you will be shunned from all good society for the rest of your life.”

“Yes, I do understand that.” Her emerald eyes glittered as she pushed herself to her knees and scooted toward the side of the bed closest to him. “That is why we cannot be caught. My aim here is to be utterly debauched and thoroughly ruined beyond all repair by you tonight so that Avery will drop his stubborn refusal to consent to our marriage.”

Rafe could only stand there and gape at her. There were so many layers of wrongness about everything she’d just said that he could barely comprehend it. She had deliberately come to his bed with the intention of him ruining her? As a ploy to convince her brother to let them marry?

He shut his mouth and blinked, raking her inviting body with a look before he could stop himself. She was right about the effectiveness of that ploy. Not even Lord Avery O’Shea would deny a marquess if he ruined his sister. She was also right about the need not to be caught. If no one but Avery ever knew he’d ruined her, Angeline could keep her reputation and still secure the right to marry. And perhaps most important of all—something Rafe realized with startling clarity, after weeks of muddying the waters with unnecessary angst and unfounded worries about Angeline’s true character—he did want to marry her. How could he ever have been so stupid to think that he didn’t? He’d known from the first moment, when she’d knelt at his feet to pick up the mess she’d caused instead of fetching a servant to do it, that she was the one for him.

All the same, he crossed his arms and stared at her scoldingly. “You know, there might have been another way for us to convince your brother to agree to a match between us,” he said. “He’s expressed his reservations to me as well, but I could have talked him out of those and made him see the benefits of the arrangement.”

“Oh,” Angeline said, sitting back on her heels. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

The picture that Angeline made, kneeling in his bed, her eyes downcast, biting her lip as she reconsidered the rashness of her actions—naked—was almost more than Rafe could bear. He wanted to do things to her—wicked things. He wanted to kiss every inch of her, learn every curve of her body. He wanted to taste every part of her and give her so much pleasure that she was dripping for him. He wanted to hear her cry out his name as he thrust inside of her, encompassed by her warmth.

“Oh!” she said in an entirely different tone once she glanced up at him again. Her cheeks pinked and her eyelashes fluttered as she caught her breath. Only then did Rafe realize he’d let every one of this thoughts show in the way he devoured her with his eyes. “Well,” she began cautiously, threading her fingers together and glancing coyly up at him, “I don’t suppose,” her gaze dropped to his bulging drawers, “you might want to seduce me anyhow? Even if you plan to rationally and reasonably discuss the matter with my brother tomorrow? You know, for…fun?”

Rafe was absolutely certain of several things, all within the space of a fraction of a second after her question. He was certain that the two of them would have a long and satisfying life together, for one. And he was certain that they would end up with roughly a dozen children, because he had no intention of ever denying that naughty look of hers every time she turned it on him.

He plucked at the drawstring of his drawers, letting them sag open and his cock spring up. Angeline’s eyes went straight to him, and she gasped in wonder. No man could ever have received such a stunningly perfect compliment. He let his drawers drop, then stepped out of them.

“Are you absolutely certain?” he asked, resting his hands on his hips and letting her ogle him all she wanted.

Angeline gulped, then glanced up at him. “If I am to understand the process correctly,” she began hoarsely, “that goes inside of me?” She nodded to his erection.

“It does,” Rafe said, working hard not to smile. He wasn’t ready to give her that victory quite yet.

She frowned slightly, then asked, “How? It’s so big.”

Rafe’s heart squeezed in his chest. Angeline didn’t have the first clue how deeply she’d just complimented him. “Would you like to find out?” he said with a bit of a growl.

Angeline swallowed again, then nodded.

Rafe climbed onto the bed with her, deliberately stalking her like a tiger. It was, arguably, silly and overdone, but his heart felt so full and light at that moment that he would have engaged in all the playacting the world had to offer if it meant he could live up to Angeline’s expectations. She gasped and flopped to her back as he positioned himself over her, gazing deep into her eyes with a look that he hoped communicated she was about to be ravished in every way. He nudged her legs apart a bit more forcefully than he should have, but her responding gasp and shiver was more than enough to tell him she was enjoying her seduction.

When he leaned in to slant his mouth over hers, kissing her as though there were no tomorrow, he knew that every risk they were taking, every wickedness they were guilty of, would be absolutely worth it. Angeline let him in immediately, humming deep in her throat and reaching up to close her arms around him. As he slipped his tongue against hers, putting everything he had into their kiss, she dug her fingertips into his back. More than that, she yanked his body down to cover hers, as if she knew exactly what she wanted.

“Have you done this before?” he asked, lifting his head up and arching one eyebrow.

“Certainly not,” she answered breathlessly, staring at his kiss-swollen lips.

“You are far surer of yourself and far less reticent than I would have expected a virgin to be,” he confessed, feeling the need to be honest with her.

“I’ve read more than my share of very dirty novels,” she gasped, still staring at his mouth and wriggling under him. “And I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time.”

Rafe didn’t know whether to laugh or to be horrified. He opted for the former when Angeline surged up into him, capturing his mouth in a demanding kiss. Whatever novels she’d read, he was glad for them. He’d rather have her eager and expectant than terrified. He wouldn’t question how she got her hands on dirty novels—the finishing school was probably to blame—but he was uncommonly glad his little angel had ended up in his bed before her curiosity led her to do something with someone else that she would have regretted.

“I shall endeavor to live up to the expectations set by your novels,” Rafe growled, grasping her thigh and lifting her leg over his hip. He kissed her mouth again until all energy left her body and she relaxed into a puddle under him, then he began a voyage of kissing down her neck to her shoulder.

“Oh, this is lovely,” she sighed, moving and shifting with him as he adjusted so that he could nuzzle, then lick and suckle her breasts. “Very—oh!—lovely indeed,” she purred.

It was all Rafe could do to keep himself from turning into a ravening monster. Her breasts were everything he expected them to be, soft and responsive as he teased her nipples—one, then the other—to points. She tasted of heaven, and she shivered as he blew on the wetness he’d licked across one areola. Everything he gave her, she responded so openly and wildly. He kissed his way across her belly, teasing her navel as he did, then continued further toward the heart of her.

Rafe was so caught up in Angeline’s responses that he nearly forgot how desperately he throbbed for her. He was reminded with a burst of urgency at the first taste of her wetness, though. The way Angeline gasped and cried out as he held her legs wide open and teased her with his tongue had him sweating and wildly ready to mate with her. The need to be inside of her consumed almost all of his thoughts, but he wanted to make her come first. He wanted to feel her explode with bliss and know that he had made it happen.

He didn’t have to wait long, and part of him would have liked to lick and suck her longer. Her breathing hitched, turned fast and anxious, and then curled into a cry of pleasure that went straight to his soul as her body convulsed and throbbed against his mouth. He didn’t want to wait for her to come down from her high of pleasure, particularly as he didn’t know how much resistance her virginal body would put up at his invasion, so he shifted above her and pushed into her while she was still moaning in the final throes of her orgasm.

Her body did resist slightly, and she gasped in shock, but Rafe eased himself all the way into her, cooing calming words of reassurance as he held himself as still as he could and let her get used to him. As much as he regretted hurting her—though she seemed to recover quickly and move against him as if testing the new sensation of him inside of her—Rafe was smug over the fact that he was her first. He would be her last and only, if he had anything to say about it.

“You do fit,” she whispered at last, flexing her hips against him.

He wanted to say something clever or loving, but his body was past the point of letting him. Instead, he moved slowly within her, careful not to overwhelm her. At least, at first. He couldn’t fight his instincts for long, and when Angeline’s sounds hinted to him that she was enjoying this new phase of their mating, he picked up his pace.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought that it might be wise for him to pull out before it was too late. The rest of him rejected that, though. Angeline was his, his angel, and he didn’t want to waste any time fulfilling that in every way. He let himself go, thrusting until pleasure coalesced at the base of his spine and shot out of him like a glorious cannon, filling Angeline with his seed. He cried out with it, thrusting a few more times as every drop of him fused with every bit of her. She wasn’t just his, with that, he was hers, forever. Nothing and no one could take that away from either of them now.