Free The Rake and the Recluse REDUX (a time travel romance) by Jenn LeBlanc Page B

she wasn’t a girl; she was a woman, and he a man. One leg slipped off the chaise and he anchored himself, planting his foot on the floor next to him.
    The fire warmed and dried his skin from the bath, and he felt it soak in through his inner thighs and up though his groin. He really should move. He really should eat his supper. He really should read the letter. At the very least he should cover himself like a proper gentleman instead of laying here in his glory for all his furnishings to see.
    He grunted.
    His jaw clenched.
    He took himself in hand. This time, a bit gentler. His thumb notched the base of his manhood and he palmed himself in one long stroke. He smoothed his hand down, then back up again, and he spread his legs wider, pushing into the floor as his thighs tensed.
    Her hair was the color of toasted butter and cinnamon, her eyes the varied colors of the sky, and her demeanor was just as changing. He’d felt her watching him ride across the valley to the wood, each of his nerves striking the hairs on the back of his neck as it took all of his concentration to stay his course and not turn toward her. The launch into the thick forest was a release as much as it was a disappointment to no longer feel her awareness prickling his skin.
    When he returned to the manor to find her on the balcony, her breasts straining the fabric of her nightgown, the garment pulled tight as she leaned into the wind above him, he nearly lost himself on his mount.
    He pulled at the favorite memory, his stomach dampening with the early proof of his desire as he shifted and strengthened his grip.
    His other hand found the towel half beneath him and tangled in it, pulling and grabbing the soft fabric until the muscles of his arm strained.
    “Francine.”
    He gasped at the rough gritty edge to his own voice and pushed his head against the cushions, his back bowing out from the seat.
    Sweet Francine. Her eyes were like windows to the world, lips as softly tinted as the blush on a rose. Her sweet, terrified face interchanged with that fierce vixen who prodded his chest, demanding to know who he was and how he was going to help set her to rights.
    This was not normal. This should not be happening to him. This was something he should easily be able to avoid. His life was beyond controlled, ordered, set, decided, simple.
    He felt the knot in his abdomen tighten, a frisson of electricity coursed down his spine, and every muscle stiffened, then release washed over him as his hand stroked feverishly, working to his end.
    He collapsed into the spasms, his jaw and fingers flexing as he pulled the towel from beneath him and threw it across his belly.
    As he settled before the fire to sup he picked up the note from Dr. Walcott that had been brought with his tray. Roxleigh never liked receiving news that someone in one of the shires was injured, and this one in particular was terrifying. There was no reasonable explanation for the girl’s injuries and no one could account for her whereabouts, leaving them no idea as to what had happened to her. He made a mental note to send a man to Kelso.

    Francine’s body was recovering well, even though her voice was not, and she yearned to be active. She couldn’t very well run the halls or staircases as she did at home; she imagined that kind of behavior would be frowned upon. She wanted to explore the beautiful gardens visible from the family’s private parlor, but there was no way she could go outside, either.
    She stood in front of the fireplace in her bedchamber. Everything took such a great deal of time here. Sending for the doctor, requesting a dressmaker, visiting a neighbor. She missed e-mail and smart phones.
    She started pacing in front of the windows and looked down at the nightdress and robe which were becoming entirely too familiar. It was a beautiful gown, but was so long she had to pull up the skirt in front to keep from tripping on the hem. The matching robe had a full skirt that gathered up to