Free Twice a Rake by Catherine Gayle Page A

of your chaperone. Perhaps even your father.”
    “Yes,” she said, with a slight tremor in her voice. Blast him for reminding her of all the reasons she should run screaming from him. And blast her for not doing as she ought.
    Lord Quinton’s eyes smiled at her then, a smile only a true rogue could muster. “And yet you remain with me. Dancing.” He twirled her about so fast she would have lost her feet, but for his strong arm at her waist pulling her ever closer. “Waltzing.”
    At this new distance she smelled his cologne, much like she had imagined it in her story. “Yes,” she whispered, no longer trusting her voice not to fail.
    He stood still and held her steady before him. “Lovely,” Lord Quinton growled just before his lips descended upon hers in a kiss. A kiss nothing like what she imagined.
    This was nothing tender or chaste. It was needy and possessive and hot.
    He pulled her closer until her body was melded into his, her curves tucked neatly into his angles and planes like they had been made just for that purpose. One hand moved up into the chignon at the nape of her neck, fisting and tugging and drawing her ever closer.
    His lips were hard and demanding. The stubble along his jaw assaulted her tender skin in a way that left her panting for more. He bit her lower lip and she cried out, but it was muffled against his tongue as it moved inside her mouth.
    Aurora tasted his brandy—smooth and dark.
    Lord Quinton moved his tongue in and out and around. When he suckled, her toes sang and the tips of her fingers trembled and something both terrible and wonderful happened between her thighs.
    She wanted more.
    She wanted to do the things to him he was doing to her, to make him feel these wanton feelings.
    She wanted it never to end.
    But then he pulled his head back, the absence of his lips leaving hers aching for their return.
    Lord Quinton stepped away from her. Removed his hands from her. He bowed his head briefly. “Miss Hyatt. I bid you good evening.”
    And he left.

 
    Chapter 6
     
    2 April, 1811
     
    Oh, dear good Lord, I only thought my life had ended yesterday. Now I know it has. But oh, what a way to die. I wonder, can one still kiss in heaven? And would a kiss in heaven feel as fiendishly sinful as that kiss? If not, perhaps I would prefer not to go to heaven when I die later today. Perhaps somewhere else would be preferable.
     
    ~From the journal of Miss Aurora Hyatt
     
    “Up. You must get up now , Aurora.”
    From Aurora’s position fully buried beneath her bedclothes, Rose’s voice sounded eerily like it belonged to Rebecca. And since when did the maid think she could use her first name, anyway?
    “What’s the point in getting up only to march to my funeral? Kindly inform Father he can handle such matters in here. I’ll not assist him.” Truthfully, she’d already done enough.
    What on earth had come over her last night? She’d flirted outrageously with Lord Quinton from across the ballroom, danced with him without being properly introduced (and a waltz, at that!), ignored her dearest friend, and become totally and irrevocably smitten with the scoundrel (for what else could he be considered?). All right. Fine. The totally smitten part occurred the moment she heard mention of his existence and then intensified when she heard he had a pirate-like demeanor. But the irrevocable part did only just occur last night. And to cap off the utterly disastrous night, she had allowed the rogue to kiss her.
    In the ballroom.
    In front of half the ton .
    With her stupendous luck, Father had returned to the ballroom just in time to see the kiss. He had been too stunned by what he saw to confront Lord Quinton as the blackguard made his escape.
    Instead, it seemed he intended to take out his wrath upon Aurora.
    She , however, intended to remain precisely where she was until the moment of her impending death. Never in her life had she felt such sheer, utter mortification as she did when Lord Quinton