Rufus Drake: Duke of Wickedness. Carole Mortimer

was a gentleman with fashionably overlong and tousled hair as black as midnight, and eyes the green of sparkling emeralds surrounded by thick, lush dark lashes, his nose long and aristocratic, with high cheekbones beneath taut flesh, and his mouth—

      Oh dear me, his mouth!

      This man had the most wickedly sensual and mocking mouth, the bottom lip slightly fuller than the top, set above a square and arrogant jaw.

      As for the reason why she was currently sitting up in this tree, with her gown unfastened down her back and her stockings and boots upon her knees?

      Propriety dictated she should not have been walking alone in the woods at all, of course. Nor did she, as she had claimed earlier, have an acquaintance with the new Duke of Northamptonshire.

      But the duke was safely in London, and Anna had not considered it would matter, once she reached this secluded pond amongst the woods of Banbury Hall, if she were to take a cooling dip.

      Consequently, she had been happily indulging when she had heard the approach of a horse wending its way through the trees. She’d been left with no choice but to hastily wade out of the water and pull her gown on over the dampness of her chemise before hurriedly picking up the rest of her belongings and giving a hunted look about her surroundings.

      She had hoped only to need to hide up in the tree until the horse and its rider had passed by, but had instead watched in horror as the man had halted and dismounted when he’d reached the pond.

      He had then removed his hat and sat down on the grass to remove his black Hessians. He followed swiftly with his jacket, waistcoat, cravat and shirt, the latter revealing that magnificently muscled chest.

      Anna’s heart had begun to pound in her chest when he had proceeded to unfasten and remove his pantaloons. Allowing him to see her own state of dress was completely scandalous, but watching this handsome gentleman undress was surely even more so.

      Except Anna had been unable to stop herself enjoying the experience.

       Chapter Two

      “Anna? I asked why you are currently sitting up in that tree….”

      Guilty tears filled her eyes as she desperately sought for some explanation other than the truth. Her brother Mark would not be displeased but disappointed if he were to learn of her impetuous actions.

      Perhaps if her mother had lived, Anna might have been able to talk to her of the terrible restlessness that sometimes overcame her. The aching need inside her for adventure and excitement, and the desire she felt to break free of the shackles her lowly station in life had placed upon her.

      She had once talked to her papa about those feelings, and she had thought he understood, but not Mark. Her brother was so good and kind, and perfectly content with his life as parson of the parish. Which was, of course, to be commended.

      Except...

      Anna’s own feelings of restlessness had become greater of late rather than less. So much so that she now often escaped the parsonage to be on her own, to pretend that she was not herself at all but was instead a lady of the world, and that she could travel to London if she cared to. To Cairo. The Americas. That she might go anywhere she chose.

      But in none of those daydreams had Anna ever envisaged finding herself in such a scandalous situation, and with a gentleman as rakishly handsome as the one standing in front of her.

      Everything about him spoke of wealth and privilege, from the beautiful black stallion he rode to the perfectly tailored clothes he had so carelessly dropped onto the grass as he undressed. He possessed that air of bored cynicism so many of the gentlemen seemed to wear about them like a mantle.

      Could he not see, could none of them see, how lucky they were just to be men? To have the freedom to do what they wanted, and go where they wanted, whenever they wanted?

      “I am still waiting, Anna.”

      She cast off the feelings of melancholy, raising her chin determinedly, even as she inwardly asked for forgiveness for the untruths she was about to tell. “As I have said, I was strolling through the woods—”

      “Trespassing.”

      Anna ignored the jibe as she continued with her tale. “When I heard a poor little kitten meowing for help from up in a tree—”

      “This very tree?”

      “And being a good Samaritan,” Anna continued doggedly, despite his mockery, “I, of course, had no choice but to climb the tree and offer my help.”

      “Would you not have climbed the tree more comfortably if you had continued to wear your boots?” her tormentor taunted as he leaned comfortably against the trunk and looked up at her, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes almost on a level with her bared limbs.

      Anna tried again to pull her gown down—to no avail; it really was stuck fast on the branch slightly above and behind her. “I had to take off my boots so that I might remove my stockings. They are both expensive, you see, and I did not wish to damage them.”

      “Very commendable of you,” he drawled.

      “Unfortunately,” she continued determinedly, “once I had climbed up here, the kitten decided it did not need my help after all and it jumped nimbly to the ground before running off.”

      “Very ungrateful of it,” her tormentor nodded with a gravity that was completely nullified by the humour she could see glittering in his mocking eyes.

      “Whereas I,” Anna stated firmly, “appear to have caught my gown on a branch and am now stuck fast.”

      Rufus could see that, and he could recognise the blush of guilt colouring her creamy cheeks for exactly what it was. He had been a major in the king’s army, and in charge of dozens of mostly reluctant soldiers, and as such he was certainly capable of identifying a lie when he was told one. “Tell me, Anna,” he drawled as he straightened, “was there even one word of truth in that pretty story?”

      That guilty flush deepened in her cheeks. “Are you calling me a liar, sir?”

      “Oh yes,” Rufus confirmed without hesitation. “As I said, it was a pretty tale, and very well narrated, but all a lie, nonetheless.”

      Blue eyes warred with his unwavering green ones for several long seconds before she lowered her lashes and gave a defeated sigh. “I really was strolling through the woods initially,” she murmured softly.

      “And latterly?”

      She grimaced. “It has been so hot these past few days, and the pool looked so inviting.” She gave another sigh. “But then I heard your horse approaching through the trees, causing me to leave the water wearing only my chemise. I gathered up my things, and hoped by climbing the tree you would not see me as you rode past.”

      Rufus glanced across to where his horse, Caesar, was unconcernedly cropping grass, and inwardly cursed the black stallion for having made so much noise on their approach. Seeing this beautiful and outspoken young woman dressed only in her wet undergarments would no doubt have been extremely pleasurable.

      Almost as pleasurable as when she had looked her fill of his bare chest.

      “Except I did not ride past,” he stated the obvious.

      “No,” she accepted heavily.

      He nodded. “Your gown is stuck fast, you said?”

      “Yes.” She gave another ineffectual tug on the offending garment.

      “Perhaps you might behave the gentleman and help me to become unstuck?” She added with what was no doubt intended to be a charming flutter of her long and silky eyelashes.

      It was an affectation that had quite the opposite effect on Rufus as he was sure it was intended to have. He could no longer hold back his