Rapturous Rakes Bundle (8 page)

was precious and she should be starting to sketch out

the angel patterns on the glass bowl, but she was not

at all sure that she could concentrate on her work

whilst Lucas was there. She went into the storeroom

that led off her studio. The room was cold and dark,

and the ranks of glasses, bowls and vases that were

normally stacked there to await engraving had dwin-

dled until there were only a few items left. This was

the last of her uncle’s stock and Rebecca knew that

she would have to order more glass in soon, but she

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did not have the means to pay for it yet. When the

commission for the Archangel Club was completed,

perhaps... But that was assuming that she would gain

more orders. It would be dangerous to buy more glass

when her business was so precarious. With a sigh, Re-

becca reached for the large glass rose bowl at the back

of the shelf and took it back out into the workshop.

Lucas was studying one of the engraved glass pan-

els that Rebecca had hung from the ceiling. His head

was tilted and Rebecca watched the fall of dark auburn

hair across his forehead and the hard, shadowed line

of his cheek in the candlelight, and something strange

happened to her insides. Her heart gave an erratic

thump.

She went over to her workbench and placed the

bowl carefully on the top. She had a small pot of paint

in a drawer, which she always used to make a delicate

outline on the glass before she started the engraving.

She took out her brush and edged the top off the pot,

sketching with delicate strokes. An angel with a

wicked face... She could see it in her mind’s eye, head

bent in prayer, the line of its cheek and jaw a straight

slash in the glass, giving the impression of strength

and grace. Rebecca stuck her tongue out slightly and

concentrated hard, trying to block out Lucas’s pres-

ence.

She did not succeed. She was too aware of him. He

took his time, examining all the pieces on the display

shelves with close attention. She could see his shadow

crossing the deeper barred shade on the floor, coming

closer. Despite the fact that her back was turned to

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him, his presence disturbed her, stirring the air, cre-

ating currents.

‘Is this all your own work?’ Lucas questioned.

Rebecca pushed a stray strand of hair away from

her flushed face. ‘The majority of the display pieces

are my uncle’s work. This was his studio up until his

death four months ago. I engraved the glass panels and

some of the other items plus the vase.’ She gestured

to the windowsill.

‘Your work is very good.’ Lucas’s voice was quiet.

‘There is so much passion in the pieces...’

Rebecca dropped her brush and bent down to re-

trieve it. Passion—and Lucas Kestrel. It was a com-

bination that made her stomach drop. Her mind filled

with images that were nothing to do with engraving

at all, images of his hands on her body, his mouth

against her skin...

‘Thank you.’ Her voice was muffled.

Lucas was standing by the window, looking at the

slender vase with the ship engraved on it. He traced

the curve of the engraving with one finger. Rebecca

repressed a shiver and bent back over her work. She

had never experienced such a strong physical reaction

to anybody in her life and it frightened her. She

wanted him gone.

He came back to the workbench and Rebecca put

the paintbrush down, eyeing him warily.

‘Have you made your choice, my lord?’

Lucas nodded. ‘I think so. I would like a set of the

slender glasses like the one that you have on the shelf

engraved with an anchor. A set of six would be per-

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fect. They are quite beautiful. I believe you must be

extremely talented, Miss Raleigh.’

There was no mistaking the sincerity in his tone,

and after a moment Rebecca gave him a shy smile.

‘Thank you,’ she said again. She did a quick mental

inventory of the contents of her storeroom. She

thought that she had just enough stock to cover the

order.

‘You have made a good choice,’ she said. ‘And the

design?’

Lucas frowned slightly. ‘I am not certain...’

‘I usually advise clients to choose a design that has

a significance to the recipient,’ Rebecca said hesi-

tantly. ‘Flowers for a gardener, or a ship for a sailor,

for example.’ She looked at him. ‘A kestrel for the

Kestrels, perhaps?’

The lines about Lucas’s eyes deepened as he smiled.

‘What a splendid idea, Miss Raleigh. A kestrel it is,

then.’

Rebecca put her head on one side and did a rough

drawing of a bird of prey in flight, proud and preda-

tory.

‘How appropriate,’ she said softly. She looked up

to find Lucas’s eyes upon her, bright and hard. For a

moment their gazes locked and held.

Then Lucas said, ‘So, how much are you going to

charge me, Miss Raleigh?’

Rebecca tore her gaze away from his. For a brief

moment, trapped in the compelling power of his eyes,

she had forgotten everything else. She plucked a figure

at random.

‘I...erm...twenty guineas, my lord.’

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Lucas looked astounded. He straightened up.

‘Twenty guineas? That is ridiculous, Miss Raleigh.’

Rebecca was shocked. She had not anticipated that

he would argue over cost. Plenty of people did, but

she had not imagined Lucas Kestrel to be a miser. She

supposed that twenty guineas was a little expensive,

but she was not backing down now. She raised her

chin in a determined fashion.

‘Twenty guineas it is, my lord.’

‘I will not give you a penny less than sixty.’

Rebecca recoiled. ‘Sixty guineas for six glasses? Do

not be so foolish, my lord!’

‘It is sixty guineas or nothing, Miss Raleigh. Not a

penny more and not a penny less. If you do not wish

the commission...’

Rebecca had also got to her feet by now. She faced

him across the desk. ‘This is idiotic, my lord! Most

people negotiate downwards, not upwards!’

Lucas looked down his nose. ‘I am not most people,

Miss Raleigh.’

Rebecca glared at him. ‘You do not understand. I

have given you a fair price for the work.’

‘Must you sell yourself short? You will never make

enough money to survive if you do not value your own

work.’

Rebecca shook her head with frustration. ‘It is the

market price, my lord. Allow me to know more about

that than you do. Only Adams or Woolf could com-

mand such prices!’

Lucas shrugged. ‘Do you accept the commission,

Miss Raleigh?’

‘Of course, but—’

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‘Then you must accept the sum I offer.’

Lucas came around the desk and stood in front of

her. His dark gaze scanned her face, softening slightly

as it lingered on the indignant colour in her cheeks.

He shook his head slightly. ‘Pride, Miss Raleigh, is

one of the seven deadly sins. But then—’ he took a

step closer and his fingers brushed her cheeks with a

featherlight touch ‘—so is lust...’

Rebecca went hot all over, then cold. Lucas’s gaze

dropped to her lips and she knew with a certainty and

a tingling anticipation that he was about to kiss her.

She backed away until she came up the hard edge of

the desk and put out a hand to ward him off. ‘My

lord—’

‘I am still not sure about you, Miss Raleigh,’ Lucas

said slowly, ‘despite your claim last night that your

association with the Archangel is entirely innocent.’

His fingers drifted down the line of her throat and

rested momentarily where the pulse beat hectically in

the hollow at its base.

‘I am not at all sure whether you are as virtuous as

you claim to be...’ His hand was sliding to the nape

of her neck now, tangling in the curls there, stroking

softly. His tone was hypnotic and so was the intent

look in his eyes. Rebecca felt her knees tremble. The

desk creaked as she unconsciously leaned against it

for support.

She put up a hand and tried to push his aside. It

seemed to take an inordinate amount of effort and so

did her words. ‘Whereas I am in absolutely no doubt

about you, my lord.’ It came out as a whisper.

Laughter lightened Lucas’s eyes. Somehow he had

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captured her hand in his, diverting it from its purpose.

His touch was warm and intimate against her skin.

‘Are you not?’ he said. ‘And what do you think of

me?’

‘That you are a rake, my lord,’ Rebecca said.

‘And I suppose that you do not have any time for

rakes, Miss Raleigh?’

His thumb was rubbing the back of her hand now,

sending tiny quivers of feeling along her nerves. Re-

becca frowned, trying to concentrate.

‘You suppose correctly, my lord.’

He was drawing her closer. There was something

inevitable, something inescapable about the way his

arms went about her. She did not struggle. She found

that she wanted to know what it would be like.

His lips were cool and light and for a second hers

clung to his before he released her. The way that she

trembled in his arms was out of all proportion to the

kiss and yet she felt shaken to her very soul.

‘Why not?’ he said, very softly.

‘Why not what?’ Rebecca was so confused she

could barely stand.

‘Why not give rakes—or at least this one—some of

your time?’

For a moment, Rebecca could not think of any rea-

son why not. Then she shook her head sharply to dis-

pel the seductive spell he was weaving. ‘Because I

have my own way to make, my lord, and I doubt that

you are likely to make that any easier for me.’

‘You mistake,’ Lucas said. ‘I could make life much

smoother for you.’

Rebecca closed her eyes for a moment against the

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temptation. She barely knew this man and yet she

knew with an instinct as old as time itself that he was

dangerous to her. There was a predatory intensity

about him that forced a reaction from deep within her.

‘I am sure that you could make my life smoother,

my lord,’ she said, taking a deep breath to steady her-

self, ‘if your patronage gains me more work.’

Lucas laughed and released her. ‘Very well, Miss

Raleigh.’ His tone sobered. ‘How long will it take you

to complete the work on the glasses?’

‘About a week, I imagine.’

Lucas bowed. ‘Then I shall return in a week’s time.

Good day, Miss Raleigh.’

Rebecca sank down on to the
chaise-longue
as he

went out, closing the door quietly behind him. She felt

physically exhausted, as though she had been working

ceaselessly for hours. She was not at all sure what had

happened between the two of them. It was not some-

thing that had ever happened to her before. But Lucas

had had a word for it.

Lust.

Nothing could have spelled out more clearly the role

Lord Lucas Kestrel foresaw for her in his life. He

might have held back from an offer of
carte
blanche

now, but it was only a matter of time. And in truth,

there was something a great deal more appealing about

accepting an offer from such a man than from the likes

of Lord Fremantle.

Rebecca felt herself tremble at the thought. What

had Nan said?
It
is
not
so
difficult
in
the
end...

Rebecca could see just how easy it could be.

She picked up the rose bowl and peered at her re-

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65

flection in the polished glass. Her face was flushed and

her eyes bright. She felt wide awake, stirred up. Once

again, she remembered the blissful feeling of Lucas’s

arms around her. It had felt absolutely right to be