The Rake's Mistress Read Free Page B

closed her eyes, counted to ten and opened them again. Her voice was measured.
    ‘I assure you, my lord, that my meeting with your brother fell out exactly as I have related it. As for myself, I would say that that is none of your business. I am not a Cyprian, I am not out to fleece your brother or drag him down into the moral depravity you evidently fear. In fact, I am not in the employ of the Archangel Club at all…’ She hesitated for a fraction of a second, for that was not entirely correct, and Lucas pounced.
    ‘Why the hesitation, Miss Raleigh? You had almost convinced me there…’
    Rebecca shrugged angrily. ‘Very well. The reason that I am in this carriage is that I have undertaken a piece of engraving work for the Archangel Club. I have a commission from them—’ She broke off as she saw Lucas’s expression of sardonic amusement.
    ‘A commission,’ he murmured. ‘I suppose one might call it that.’
    ‘I do not see why I have to protest my virtue to you, my lord!’ Rebecca said hotly. ‘It is none of your business.’
    ‘Indeed, you have no need to protest at all, Miss Raleigh,’ Lucas agreed smoothly. ‘Not when there are easier ways to prove your innocence.’
    Before she could guess his intentions, he took her hand in his and with studied deliberation stripped off her glove. His gesture was so sudden and so sensually provocative that Rebecca gasped. She tried to withdraw her hand, but Lucas held it firmly between both of his, running his fingers over her skin with the lightest of strokes. His touch was cool and she felt the effect of it jolt right through her body. The colour flooded her face; her nerves prickled. She was unable to repress a shiver.
    ‘You will see that they are not the hands of a lady,’ she said, ‘but an artisan.’
    Her voice came out a little huskily and she hoped that Lucas had not noticed. He was insufferably arrogant as it was, without giving him the advantage.
    He looked up and met her gaze, and Rebecca realised that it was a vain hope. Lord Lucas Kestrel was quite experienced enough with women to know when he had an effect upon them. She could see it in his eyes.
    His thumb was stroking her palm gently now, sending flickers of feeling along her skin. ‘I agree that they are the hands of someone who works for a living,’ he agreed softly. ‘That does not make you any less of a lady, Miss Raleigh.’
    ‘I do not wish to discuss semantics with you, my lord,’ Rebecca said. ‘In fact, I do not wish to discuss anything at all. However, I will accept an apology.’
    Lucas gave her a very straight look. There was the very faintest hint of a smile in the depths of his eyes and Rebecca’s insides trembled. She was aware of an insidious feeling of attraction growing between them and fought against it wholeheartedly. Lord Lucas Kestrel was clearly a dangerous man.
    ‘You have it, Miss Raleigh,’ he said softly. ‘My most humble apologies.’
    Rebecca drew her hand from his grasp and cleared her throat.
    ‘I think that it is time for you to go now, my lord.’ She rapped on the roof of the carriage. ‘Stop, please! Lord Lucas will be leaving us here.’
    She half-expected the Archangel’s coachman to ignore her command, but the carriage slowed obediently to a halt. Lord Lucas was not so biddable. He sat watching her, a challenge in his gaze as though he were defying her to throw him out bodily.
    ‘What, are you to abandon me here?’
    ‘I am certain that you will be able to navigate the streets of London better than your brother,’ Rebecca said sweetly, ‘and since I have no desire to remove your clothes you will not be in need of begging a cloak from a kindly traveller.’
    Lucas grinned. ‘You put ideas into my head, Miss Raleigh.’
    Rebecca blushed. The ideas were in her head as well, erotic and disturbing, no matter that she tried to ignore them.
    ‘Disabuse yourself of them, my lord. I will bid you good night.’
    Lucas held her gaze for a long moment.