Rake Most Likely To Sin. Bronwyn Scott

run from?’ She stretched out beside him, matching his pose, her head resting on her hand. She had not been this close to a man in ages, certainly not such a virile one.

      ‘Everything. Nothing.’ His blue eyes flirted with her quietly, the night and the stars adding their own layers of intimacy to this impetuous wine picnic. He would be intoxicating even without the drink. She had to be careful. She hadn’t broken her rule...yet, but she was dancing close to the fire. She was recognising in hindsight there were probably other promises she should have made herself. Don’t lie down with a man you don’t know, don’t stare at the stars with him and absolutely don’t drink wine with him.

      ‘There was no reason to stay in England, or Paris, or Venice, or Milan, or Siena.’ Brennan’s hand stroked her hair, pushing a strand behind her ear. It was becoming far too easy to let him touch her. It felt far too good.

      ‘And Kardamyli?’ The words were out of her mouth before she could think better of them. Reasons to stay were dangerous.

      ‘We’ll see. I like it here.’ The implied but hovered in the air. Oh, he was smooth, he knew all the right things to say: If a woman would give me a reason to stay, I might consider it. No wonder Katerina Stefanos had fallen for him. He could certainly bait a hook.

      She decided to give him a dose of reality, and perhaps a dose for herself, too—a reminder that he was not for her...that she was merely looking for an escape from her friends’ well-meaning efforts. ‘There may be conditions placed on your ability to stay.’ Like taking a wife.

      He merely gave one his shrugs, unconcerned about future consequences. ‘You’ve managed to remain unattached. I am sure I will, too. Maybe that’s something we could work on together.’ His hand drifted to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair, cradling it as he had done her cheek. His eyes dropped to her lips, his head angled slowly in fair warning, giving her time to choose her response and then he made his move, closing the gap between them with swift confidence, his mouth moving fast and sure over hers.

       Chapter Four

      She let him. She wasn’t technically breaking her promise. He was kissing her, after all, and she couldn’t very well control his actions. It was a hastily done rationalisation, one she was probably going to regret...later. Right now, her lips, her body were too busy sinking into his to regret much of anything.

      Good lord, he could kiss. His mouth was patient, savouring hers, seducing hers with its slow confidence. He was not in doubt about the conclusion of the interlude and in no hurry to get there. His tongue made a languorous perusal of her mouth, his hands running up her back, drawing her close to him on the blanket. Oh, how she wanted to be close, to feel the heat of him, the muscled press of his body. She had not realised how hungry she was for such contact and it had to stop. This could not happen, no matter how enjoyable. If he wasn’t able to see the ramifications of this, she would, for both of them. The village wouldn’t tolerate it, not when he’d been flirting with the eligible girls and doing heaven knew what else with them. Her pride would not stand it either. He couldn’t use her like this and then leave her. There were other reasons, too, but these were the most immediate.

      Brennan’s hand was warm at her leg, sliding beneath her skirt, resting on her knee. She pushed gently at his chest and pulled away with a shake of her head. His blue eyes reflected his puzzlement, his disappointment. She tried to soften her words with a smile, but her voice was stern, leaving no quarter for argument. ‘I think it’s time to go home.’

      ‘Really?’ He wasn’t going to give up easily. His auburn hair, tousled from her fingers, and the smoulder of those blue eyes were nearly irresistible as he formed his one-word rebuttal, challenging her suggestion.

      Distance. She needed distance. Patra stumbled to her feet. If she stayed on the blanket a moment longer, he would win. He had too many advantages on his side and she could not allow that. His victory would be expensive for them both. Patra smoothed her skirts and began to re-pin her hair. ‘Yes, really. It’s late and we don’t want to do this, not truly. In the morning, we’ll regret it.’ Her argument sounded clichéd and her hands shook as she re-pinned her hair.

      He stood and moved into her, covering her hands with his. ‘Let me.’ He took the pins and deftly shoved them into her hair until it somewhat resembled its original self. He stared at her for a long moment, so close she could see the black flecks of his eyes amid the blue. A slow smile spread across his face. ‘You’ll do.’ He leaned close, his voice conspiratorially low. ‘I don’t think anyone will guess you’ve been kissing that rake of an Englishman.’

      He turned away and began to roll up the blanket, leaving no evidence of their presence. There had been self-derision mixed with the teasing lilt of his voice. It was hard to know how to take that remark. She’d accidentally hurt his feelings. ‘I didn’t do it only for me.’ She felt compelled to defend herself. ‘I did it for you, too. A scandal is the quickest way out of town or to the altar for you and it seemed to me that you weren’t ready for either just yet.’

      Brennan faced her, hands on hips, having put the blanket away under its bush. ‘I don’t need you to decide for me. I seldom regret anything in the mornings.’

      The innuendo that she would not regret anything either had they carried their evening to a particular conclusion brought heat to her cheeks. In terms of personal satisfaction, he was most likely right. His dancing, his kissing, had served as very compelling references for his skills elsewhere. But it was the social aspect she was thinking of. Still, he was a young man and his pride in a sensitive area had been hurt.

      Patra stepped forward, wanting to put a consoling hand on his arm, wanting to explain. ‘Brennan, it’s not that.’ What did she say next? It’s not that I don’t think you’d be fabulous in bed. From a purely technical standpoint, you would be phenomenal, I’m sure... She could definitely not say that. She opted for something more platonic. ‘There are many young women in the village who would welcome your attentions, but I am not one of them.’

      Brennan crossed his arms and arched an auburn brow. ‘Is that because you prefer the attentions of the grey-bearded men that buzz around you like so many bees to honey?’ His tone was blunt and rough, at odds with his earlier smoothness. He was still smarting.

      ‘What I prefer is my business.’ She moved to head down the hill. It was past time to go. She had secrets to protect. By protecting them, she was protecting him even if he couldn’t know or appreciate her efforts. She’d walk home alone if she had to. But Brennan was beside her, a hand at her elbow to help her navigate in the star-spiked darkness despite the tension rising between them. It proved again her earlier intuition that he was kind. Even in the midst of conflict, he remembered his word. Kind he might be, but he wasn’t ready to leave the unpleasantness behind them on the hill.

      ‘It’s why you needed me tonight.’ Brennan helped her over a rocky gap in the trail. ‘You were looking to escape them.’ He was far too perceptive. It would have been easier if he’d simply been a smooth-talking rake, but it appeared he was a bit more than that and it made him trickier to manage.

      ‘My friends believe it’s time for me to marry again, that I’ve mourned my husband long enough. I tell them I don’t plan to wed, but they do not listen.’ They didn’t listen because they didn’t understand the real reasons behind her resistance and she could not tell them.

      ‘Instead, they have pooled their resources and brought to town any eligible relative they can lay their hands on.’ Brennan chuckled as he summed up her predicament, the tension easing between them. Some of the teasing spark returned to the conversation. ‘Is it that you’re opposed to marrying again, or just opposed to marrying a greybeard?’

      ‘Both.’ They had to go slowly down the hill to avoid slipping on loose pebbles and she was too grateful for the support of his hand, steady and firm as he guided her down, to pull away. She envied him his confidence. He was in his prime and full of himself in all the best ways. How long would this strapping young man remain unchallenged,