To Refuse a Rake (18 page)

Methodically, he pressed into her, savoring the sensation of her soft form beneath his. He deepened the kiss, plundering her mouth with his tongue and devouring the flavor of her sweet kiss with a growing passion. He felt his control slipping and he held to his last shreds of restraint and released her, slowly leaning back until he stood. With his gaze fixed on her wide, desire-laced expression, he began to undress, slowly and with precision so that her eyes could take their fill. Though his intention was to inspire further desire in her, he found himself influenced by the same spell. When he stood before her unclothed, he reached out his hand, beckoning her to rise.

Emma stood and when he motioned for her to turn, she obeyed readily. Her flesh was searing in its heat as he began to kiss her neck while undressing her. Soon all that remained was a thin camisole. Hudson pulled her back against him tightly, teasing her, all the while unpinning her hair. The pins made a slight clink as they hit the floor, and soon he was tracing her belly with his almost shaking hands. Slowly, he lifted the light fabric. She trembled as his hands caressed her belly and higher, taking in her entire shape before tossing the clothing to the floor.

With a deep breath, Hudson reached around and caressed her skin, savoring the weight of her flesh and kneading it with his hands. She gasped and her breath started to come in short gasps. Hudson traced down her ribs to her hips, splaying his hands over them and pressing them into his form. He couldn’t suppress a groan of desire as his blood roared in his ears in response. Slowly, he traced his hands down her hips until he removed all that remained.

“I love you.” Hudson spoke the words reverently, for there was nothing more holy or true. He loved her with every fiber of his vibrating being.

“I love you, too,” Emma responded, sending a shot of heat through Hudson.

“Turn around.” Hudson gently commanded in her ear as she stood with her back against him, completely naked.

Emma didn’t hesitate, but turned and immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hot and explosively searing kiss. Hudson didn’t pause, but pressed her backward until she stepped against the bed. With swift movements, he tore the blankets away and lifted his wife onto the mattress, immediately covering her, burning with heat where his skin touched hers. Her soft skin, even hotter than his own, made his body tremble with the need to touch every inch. He shook as he struggled to rein in his desire. Her eyes glazed with passion as she moved against him. Her gaze was hungry, mirroring his own desire.

“Hudson.” She gasped as her hands roamed over his flesh, at first tentative then with growing force as she was pulled him closer until he felt the incompleteness of their union like a branding iron to his body. He tried to take it slowly and memorize each sensation and the delicate and addictive flavor of her skin. When he began to kiss lower and lower she bucked beneath him with a passionate gasp. Hudson’s control snapped.

“I love you, I need you—” Without further delay he thoroughly claimed his wife, savoring the sensation of truly making love.

Emma gasped at first, and Hudson hesitated, but soon she found her own rhythm. Hudson marveled at the power of it all. Never had intimacy been so consuming, so passionate! His
body hummed in accord with hers until they were no longer two, but united as one. Fulfilling his earlier promise, he was indeed thorough, deliberate, and the last thing he heard before succumbing to his own desire was his name claimed by his wife in her own surrender.

Epilogue

“Hudson! It’s finally in Lady Bea’s Paper!” Emma shouted as she read the article that was just a further description of the news that surrounded every social event. “It says here:

‘
She had mistakenly entered the Earl of Shifton’s room, thinking it was her own. After she disrobed, she climbed in bed only to find the bed occupied, with the
earl and his countess! She screamed, the countess screamed and rumor
has
it,
the
earl screamed along with them.
Lady Alton
left the room in nothing but her camisole. It
is
unlikely that
Lady Alton
will
be finishing out the season in London as rumor also
has
it that she
has
retired to the country for a while.’

Can you believe it?” Emma giggled.

As she watched Hudson striding across the room, she replayed all the many events of the past few weeks. Lady Alton’s scandal was only slightly more well-known than the shock that had spread across the ton when she and Hudson had put the special license to good use and married with little fanfare. The wedding had taken place only three days after the famed house party of Lady Linden. Three days had been far too long in Emma’s opinion. Indeed, even now she wondered how she had survived so many years thinking love was hopeless. Hudson had shown and continued to show her just how wrong she was, and she would never grow tired of such a reminder.

“Mercifully, there’s nothing about the earlier escapade where she tried to invade Lord and Lady Hewett’s room! Lenore would have died of mortification!” Emma shook her head.

“Is there anything about the scandalous Lord and Lady Daventry?” Hudson asked with a wicked grin.

“Thankfully, no.”

“And here I thought my seduction of you would at least warrant a mention in the gossip papers,” Hudson teased.

“You always did think too highly of yourself.” Emma quipped.

Hudson’s strong arms wrapped around her, immediately searing her with warmth and igniting hungry passion.

“Are you done?” Hudson spoke hotly in Emma’s ear as he reached around and plucked the paper from her hand and tossed it onto the table.

“Apparently so,” Emma teased, leaning back into her husband’s embrace.

“Brilliant. You know, we do have a few hours ‘til we’re expected at your sister’s…” Hudson’s voice trailed off as he tugged on her earlobe with his teeth, sending delicious shivers down her spine.

“Indeed, how ever will we fill those long, tedious hours ‘til my sister’s engagement party?” Emma giggled. She was thrilled for her sister, the soon-to-be Duchess of Longton! But Hudson nibbled her skin and erased all other thoughts. Emma reached back to tug on her husband’s reddish and raven locks.

“I can think of a few… activities that would be sublimely diverting,” Hudson murmured against her neck then proceeded to tease her flesh with his tongue.

“Can you, now?” Emma spoke breathlessly, a slow anticipation burning within her. Surely she would never sate the hungry desire for her husband!

“Indeed.” Hudson leaned down and swept Emma into his arms. With a hot and passionate kiss, he paused and teased her. As his tongue swept over her lips and dipped into her mouth, Emma melted further into his embrace.

When Hudson broke the seal of their lips and began to carry her up the stairs to their chamber, Emma leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Kiss me, Hudson. Please, please kiss me,” she whispered the words that she swore she’d never say, yet were the very words that had set her free. The very words that had given her all her heart desired, even when she didn’t know what it was.

“I’ll never tire of hearing that.” Hudson opened their door and closed it quickly behind them. In a few strides he was to their bed. Immediately he laid Emma down and covered her with his solid frame. Again the intensity of their passion built inside of her such a smoldering fire that she was sure she would be consumed!

For indeed, as Hudson once again ignited and sated her every desire, the greatest gift he gave her was the truth.

A soft breeze blew through the open window and ruffled the pages of Emma’s journal on her writing desk. But the lovers, absorbed in one another, didn’t notice.

Love is a risk, but fools aren’t the ones who risk it. The true fools are those who refused the gift. You can refuse a rake, but if he is sincerely after your heart, his love will overcome any walls you build around yourself. For if one thing is true, never say never, because that is when love happens.

Other books by
Kristin Vayden:

Redeeming the Deception of Grace

Living London

Pursued

Surviving Scotland

Coming Soon:

Beyond Broken

The Viking: An Epic Romance

About the Author

Kristin Vayden
is a stay at home mom of five children. Her inspiration for the romance she writes comes from her tall, dark and handsome husband with killer blue eyes. When she's not writing, she loves to make soap, sauerkraut, sourdough bread, and gluten free muffins. Life is full of blessings and she praises God for the blessed and abundant life He's given her.

Also by Kristin Vayden

Surviving Scotland

Chapter One

The sound of a gentle wind blowing through the trees stirred me from my dreams. The fresh scent of heather and wet grass tickled my senses, and the sun warmed my face. Taking in a deep cleansing breath, I tried to remember the last time that London had smelled so clean and fresh. The sound of birds chirping and crickets singing almost lulled me back into peaceful slumber, but something crawled across my hand, and I bolted upright, shaking off the offending insect.

The light was overly bright and I blinked, trying to focus, but it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. As I waited for my vision to clear, my mind started to shake off its sleep-induced passivity and actively began to question the strange sounds and smells.

I gasped as I considered my surroundings. Gone were my bed, fireplace, sitting room, and home. Gone was the bustling city of London with its smoke and vile air. Gone was everything familiar. In its place was soft, loamy soil with emerald green grass, tall trees that pointed to the heavens, and colorful gentle heather that graced the meadow I had been sleeping in.

Taking in a deep breath I realized belatedly that I could breathe easily, and I gazed down concerned at my lack of corset. Rather than wearing my usual attire, I was clothed in loose stays under a homespun shift. A patterned length of cloth draped over my shoulders. The blue and red plaid was woolen and warm, effectively eliminating the morning chill. I lifted my hands to touch my hair and found that it was still in a plait from the night before; at least I thought that it was the night before. I began to question my sanity.

The sound of beating hooves shook me from my stupor, and I stood and glanced about for a place to hide. As I ducked behind a tree that was covered with ample brush, I peeked through the twisted branches to see who approached. Three men dismounted and began speaking in thick Scottish brogues.

The tallest one began to search the edge of the meadow and quickly spotted me. I was captivated by his dark, wavy hair, which was accented by tanned skin. But what held my attention were his legs; they were bare. He wore a type of skirt — a kilt actually. I had read about them, but hadn’t realized they would have left so much of a man’s legs exposed. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Tall socks covered his calves and were tied up with thin pieces of leather that matched his boots. His torso was covered with a homespun shirt that opened at the chest. The rest of his kilt, or perhaps it was a tartan, was wrapped around his chest at an angle. As my gaze lifted to his face, I noticed he was staring at me.

From a distance, I noticed the shocking green color of his eyes, like moss. He met my gaze, and though I knew I should be frightened, I wasn’t. Belatedly, my memory reminded me that being a lone Englishwoman stranded in Scotland wasn’t a good thing. Thankfully all the years of having a Scottish nanny had given me an authentic brogue, though I was told never to speak in it back home. Without any other option, I prepared to act the part of highland lass. I swallowed and waited, but he didn’t speak to me; he just stared.

“Elle?” he asked, confusion and recognition warring for control of his handsome face. At the sound of my name, my mouth dropped open in shock. How could he know my name? Maybe I hadn’t woken up after all; maybe I was still dreaming. Quickly I reached down to pinch myself, wincing at the pain. I was very much awake.

“Are ye hurt, lass?” Concern was evident in his voice. He gracefully loped over to where I was still trying to hide.

“Oh, for the love o’ St. John, lass were ye climbin’ again?” He asked in an exasperated tone that caused my temper to flair. “Aren’t ye a little old for those shenanigans?” His hands were on his hips in a scolding fashion. His familiar manner with me, accompanied by his condescending scold, left me speechless.

“What? Did ye addle yer brains, lass? Fall on yer head this time?” He joked, implying that I had done something like this before. His eyes crinkled at the edges and his grin exposed white, straight teeth. When his grin began to fade, I noticed the fullness of his lips and the strength of his jaw.

“No,” I answered, drawing out the word unnaturally long. “She speaks!” he teased and I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Aye, I speak, now leave me alone — er — be.” I wanted to ask who he was, how he knew my name, but I wasn’t sure if it was wise. Clearly he had either mistaken me for someone else, or I had more than addled my wits. Maybe I had fallen out of a tree. Lord knows, I had climbed my share before heading to London to be my grandmother’s companion.

After brushing the imaginary wrinkles from my dress, I glanced around, then back at the man with the unsettling green gaze. He watched me intently, no doubt beginning to question if I was indeed the Elle he thought. But then his eyes dipped lower to my chest and hips.

My face heated with embarrassment and anger, as well as a spark of fear, as he unabashedly appraised me.

“Do ye mind?”Anger laced my tone. There was no way I was going to let him think I was that type of woman. I didn’t need any more trouble than I was already in. His eyes snapped back to mine in understanding, and rather than give me a rakish smolder, he had the good sense to look embarrassed.