Read Online The Rake Revealed by Kate Harper - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kate Harper
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warmth and sending good sense skittering.
‘Lord Tapscott,’ she began again, needing to put a stop to whatever was happening. At least, a part of her wanted to put a stop to it. The rest of her wanted to surrender with an urgency that was alarming. Give in to the pull of those lips, surrender to the heat in those eyes. A part of her said no, but another, far more insistent part was demanding to know why she was not already in his arms.
And then she was.
His kiss was everything she had ever anticipated and yet had never suspected, a perfect fusion of fiery sensuality. His mouth, warm and insistent, saw her melt against him, flowing through him as he explored the softness of her lips, hands reaching out to hold her fast. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to respond, to kiss him back, opening her mouth to receive his tongue, heart leaping upwards with a kind of fierce, untrammeled joy that set her entire body on fire.
A hand crept up, fingers sliding through the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck, curving beneath its warmth. Desire pulsed through Camille in slow, solemn beats and she pressed herself against his body, a part of her registering the lean, hard strength of him, although, in truth, she was so consumed by the unexpected fervor of her need and the blind, relentless hunger for more, that thought had become instinctive.
Something within her recognized that this man had the power to take her beyond herself, into the unknown. It would be a wild and wonderful place and she could lose herself there for an eternity, every moment of which would be filled with the most incredible discoveries.
It wasn’t until his lordship finally ended the kiss that her sense of time and place slowly began to take shape once more. The room, the man, and the situation, everything rushed back with a snap that saw her put her hands on his chest – that glorious, golden chest – and push herself away with all the desperation of somebody who was deeply mortified.
‘ Non !’
She half stumbled backwards, heart beating hard, hand reaching up to cover her mouth as if she could conceal its traitorous behavior. It was small comfort that Lord Tapscott was looking stunned, blue eyes glazed, breathe coming fast.
‘Lady Durham...’
Camille’s hand shot out, stopping him. She did not want to hear what he had to say. What could he say about a kiss like that? She may be French. She may even be a woman who had seen something of the world, but the kiss they had just shared had not been a trivial thing and she did not want to deal with whatever flippant nonsense he might put it down to. If he did not speak of it, she might pretend that it had been nothing, although within herself she knew that was a lie. That kiss had not been nothing, but when her pounding heart had quietened, her lips stopped tingling, and the slow, heavy throb that continued to hammer within her, as solemn and steady as a drum beat, had died away, perhaps then she could convince herself.
‘I think you should leave now.’
‘No,’ he paused, apparently collecting himself. ‘I did not mean to kiss you like that.’
She gave him a look. ‘You should not have meant to kiss me at all. And I…,’ Camille paused, collecting her sadly shattered composure. ‘I most certainly have not behaved well. I am glad that your shoulder is healing, but now I have many things to do. I believe you know this house well enough to show yourself out so I will bid you good afternoon, sir.’ And with that, she turned and left the room.
It was a craven retreat and she knew it. She should have told him in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t the kind of woman a rake set his sites on seducing. She wanted a quiet life and an ill-advised love affair with a man she barely knew, in a community she was trying to enter into, was hardly the way to go about things. There was nothing worse than starting over with a bad reputation. It was just that he had thrown her completely, not
‘Lord Tapscott,’ she began again, needing to put a stop to whatever was happening. At least, a part of her wanted to put a stop to it. The rest of her wanted to surrender with an urgency that was alarming. Give in to the pull of those lips, surrender to the heat in those eyes. A part of her said no, but another, far more insistent part was demanding to know why she was not already in his arms.
And then she was.
His kiss was everything she had ever anticipated and yet had never suspected, a perfect fusion of fiery sensuality. His mouth, warm and insistent, saw her melt against him, flowing through him as he explored the softness of her lips, hands reaching out to hold her fast. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to respond, to kiss him back, opening her mouth to receive his tongue, heart leaping upwards with a kind of fierce, untrammeled joy that set her entire body on fire.
A hand crept up, fingers sliding through the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck, curving beneath its warmth. Desire pulsed through Camille in slow, solemn beats and she pressed herself against his body, a part of her registering the lean, hard strength of him, although, in truth, she was so consumed by the unexpected fervor of her need and the blind, relentless hunger for more, that thought had become instinctive.
Something within her recognized that this man had the power to take her beyond herself, into the unknown. It would be a wild and wonderful place and she could lose herself there for an eternity, every moment of which would be filled with the most incredible discoveries.
It wasn’t until his lordship finally ended the kiss that her sense of time and place slowly began to take shape once more. The room, the man, and the situation, everything rushed back with a snap that saw her put her hands on his chest – that glorious, golden chest – and push herself away with all the desperation of somebody who was deeply mortified.
‘ Non !’
She half stumbled backwards, heart beating hard, hand reaching up to cover her mouth as if she could conceal its traitorous behavior. It was small comfort that Lord Tapscott was looking stunned, blue eyes glazed, breathe coming fast.
‘Lady Durham...’
Camille’s hand shot out, stopping him. She did not want to hear what he had to say. What could he say about a kiss like that? She may be French. She may even be a woman who had seen something of the world, but the kiss they had just shared had not been a trivial thing and she did not want to deal with whatever flippant nonsense he might put it down to. If he did not speak of it, she might pretend that it had been nothing, although within herself she knew that was a lie. That kiss had not been nothing, but when her pounding heart had quietened, her lips stopped tingling, and the slow, heavy throb that continued to hammer within her, as solemn and steady as a drum beat, had died away, perhaps then she could convince herself.
‘I think you should leave now.’
‘No,’ he paused, apparently collecting himself. ‘I did not mean to kiss you like that.’
She gave him a look. ‘You should not have meant to kiss me at all. And I…,’ Camille paused, collecting her sadly shattered composure. ‘I most certainly have not behaved well. I am glad that your shoulder is healing, but now I have many things to do. I believe you know this house well enough to show yourself out so I will bid you good afternoon, sir.’ And with that, she turned and left the room.
It was a craven retreat and she knew it. She should have told him in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t the kind of woman a rake set his sites on seducing. She wanted a quiet life and an ill-advised love affair with a man she barely knew, in a community she was trying to enter into, was hardly the way to go about things. There was nothing worse than starting over with a bad reputation. It was just that he had thrown her completely, not
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