When Only a Rake Will Do (15 page)

Tightening his grasp on her hips, Brendon braced his feet against the bottom of the pool as he lifted her up and then lowered her back down, up and then down, over and over as her breasts with their peaked nipples rubbed deliciously against his chest with each and every movement. 

Daphne’s head fell back, her legs tightening around Brendon’s flanks, the water rippling out around them in ever-widening circles as he guided them into a blissful rhythm.  She clung to him, savoring each and every thrust of his hips as he set her body afire once again.  She cried out when she found her release, her head falling onto Brendon’s shoulder, her face buried in the curve of his neck as she tightened and convulsed around him.

Brendon surged upward one last time before pulling out of her quivering depths, careful to spill his seed outside of her body as he reached his own powerful climax.

Once they’d recovered themselves and their ragged breathing had finally returned to normal, Brendon fetched the small cake of soap from the leather satchel he’d brought along and for the next quarter hour they busied themselves with the pleasant task of soaping and washing one another from head to toe.  Then, as their skin began to wrinkle and prune, they finally left the water, drying off and donning their clothing once again before leaving their private haven and heading back to the cottage.

After a late luncheon, Brendon and Daphne spent the better part of the afternoon lazing about, playing cards and backgammon and for much of the time simply talking, content to save their remaining energy for the night ahead. 

*****

When Daphne awoke the following morning, the room was awash in sunlight, allowing her an unhindered view of the man lying next to her.  He was sprawled out upon his stomach, one arm bent above his head and the other resting at his side while the sheets, wrapped in a tangled coil around his legs, left his muscled back and taut buttocks exposed to her appreciative gaze.

Turning onto her side, her eyes swept unabashedly along the lines of his body, her fingers itching to reach out and trace the contours of his spine and the tantalizing curve of his derrière.  But hesitant to wake him, for dawn had only just broken, she contented herself with simply admiring the beauty of his splendid masculine form.

Lying there, her thoughts drifted to the evening before, causing a small satisfied smile to tilt the corners of her lips.  Like he had the night before, Brendon had led her into the rear garden shortly after darkness had fallen to watch the stars.  But this time he’d surprised her, for spread atop the soft grass had been a thick pile of blankets and resting beside them a bottle of champagne, two crystal flutes and a bowl of freshly cut strawberries.  They’d drunk the champagne and fed each other strawberries, talking and laughing as they watched for shooting stars, making wishes upon each and every one.  Then, once they’d had their fill, they had made love beneath the star-filled sky, slowly, tenderly and ever so sweetly.

After a time he’d wrapped her up in the blankets and carried her back inside the cottage, returning to the bedchamber where, conscious of their limited time together, they had made love long into the night until they had finally collapsed upon the sheets, exhausted and thoroughly satiated. 

Even so, just looking at the man lying next to her stirred the now familiar throbbing between her thighs and awakened once again that desperate ache that longed to be assuaged.  Oh how foolish she was to have imagined that an entire weekend with Brendon was such an extraordinary amount of time, for she realized now that it was only the briefest of intervals. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough.  She wanted more, so much more.  She wanted an eternity.

With tears welling up in her eyes, Daphne studied Brendon’s face, committing each and every detail to memory so that she would never forget how he looked at that exact moment in time, for all too soon her memories would be all that she had.  It was a painful realization, and far more devastating than she could have ever imagined. 

When Brendon stirred a short while later he opened his eyes to find Daphne lying on her side next to him, watching him, a gentle smile playing upon her lips.

“How long have you been awake?” he murmured sleepily, already reaching for her as he struggled to awaken fully.

“Not long,” Daphne lied, snuggling into him and inhaling his clean masculine scent as he pulled her close. Resting her check against his chest, she listened to the sound of his heart beating beneath her ear, committing the steady cadence to memory.

“Are you hungry?” Brendon asked as his fingers moved to trail lightly up and down her back.

“Not for food,” Daphne replied boldly, her voice a husky whisper, her meaning unmistakable.

Those three simple words were all it took to clear the last of the sleep-induced fog from Brendon’s head.  Fully awake now, he emitted a low contented growl from deep within his throat as he rolled Daphne onto her back and settled between her thighs.

Their final bout of love-making was both fiercely passionate and achingly tender at the same time, for each of them was abundantly aware that their time together was coming to an end, growing ever more fleeting with each and every tick of the clock.  They were saying their goodbyes, not with words, but with their bodies.

In the days following her return to London, Daphne did her best to accept the fate that awaited her but it wasn’t easy, for her days at Rose Cottage had shown her exactly what she would be missing, not just what her body would be missing but what her heart would be missing too.  She should have known better, she should have known that she wouldn’t be able to walk away unscathed, with nothing more than pleasant memories.  What a fool she was, for in that brief span of time she had fallen in love with Brendon Leighton, madly, deeply, passionately and irrevocably in love.  And now, now she had to live with the crushing pain of a loss so intense and so utterly heart-wrenching that it was nearly impossible to bear. But she
would
have to bear it; she would have to bear it for the rest of her life.  And sadly she had no one to blame but herself. 

She tried to move on, to stay busy, to divert her thoughts of Brendon and their time together anyway that she could, accepting invitations to the opera and to the theater from her would be suitors, in addition to the customary balls, routes, dinner parties and the like.  But even so she could only avert the pain for so long, sometimes minutes, sometimes mere seconds and then the desperate longing would reappear, devastating in its intensity.  And so was the ache in her heart, at times so profoundly gut wrenching that it nearly sent her to her knees.

The nights were by far the hardest, however.  Lying in her bed, alone in the darkness of her bedchamber, it was impossible to escape the memories.  They flooded her thoughts, replaying themselves over and over in her head, both wonderful and heartbreaking at the same time, until eventually she would fall into a restless sleep, her body succumbing to sheer exhaustion. 

Following Brendon’s return to the city, he made a conscious effort to resume the life he’d led before Daphne Hewitt had entered into it, but it proved far more difficult than he could have ever imagined.  Though he hadn’t seen her since returning to London, he thought about her each and every day, far more often than he cared to admit.  Even so, the nighttime hours were the worst, for she invaded his dreams night after night, his damnable subconscious replaying their days at Rose Cottage time and again within his mind and then leaving him with an intangible sense of loss upon waking each morning.  No woman had ever made him feel like that before and it was both utterly confounding and exceedingly vexing. 

It was to have been a weekend,
that’s all
, he thought to himself on more than one occasion.  He’d given her what she’d asked for; he’d introduced her to desire and to passion.  In turn,
he
should have finally been able to quench, or at the very least
temper
, the intense, hot-blooded desire he’d felt for the ravishing beauty since the moment he’d first laid eyes on her.  So why hadn’t he then?  Why did she still consume his thoughts?  Why did he still want her with that same burning intensity?

No, it wasn’t the same, it was even more powerful than before he acknowledged ruefully.  But in truth, it was more than just physical desire.  He missed her smile, her laughter, the pleasing sound of her voice, the way her eyes reflected her emotions and even the way she moved.  He missed their talks, their discussions about history, art, literature and so many other things.  He missed her fascination with the stars, her infectious love of nature and the unaffected enjoyment she derived from the simplest of pleasures.  He missed
her
, dammit!  It was entirely unexpected, maddening as hell and a great deal more than he’d bargained for.

As a result, his days and nights quickly fell into a lamentable pattern as he tried to drive her from his thoughts. Frequenting the clubs became a nightly ritual as he strictly avoided any event where Daphne might be in attendance.  Instead, he drank and played cards well into the wee hours of the morning, often stumbling from his carriage at the break of dawn to fall wearily into his bed, praying that he’d consumed enough alcohol throughout the night to keep the dreams at bay.  Then, rousing himself from his bed hours later, he promptly set about repeating the events of the night before.

He’d considered seeking out the company of a woman, of course, and on more than one occasion, thinking
that
might be what he needed to ultimately push the enchanting Lady Daphne from his mind.  But much to his chagrin, he never seemed quite able to summon the necessary motivation.  And so he contented himself with drink, cards and the companionship of his male peers, all of which left him feeling decidedly discontented and woefully unsatisfied.

It wasn’t until another week had passed that Brendon finally broke from the desolate routine he’d established.  In an effort to curb his perpetual slide into utter dissoluteness, he forced himself from his bed at a decent hour, ate a fortifying breakfast, had his curricle made ready and then proceeded directly to his brother’s home.  He needed to clear his head, if even for a short while, and he knew exactly how to accomplish the task.

Less than thirty minutes later he stood in Nicholas and Ashleigh’s front parlor, waiting patiently as his sister-in-law went upstairs to fetch her young son.  Fortunately he didn’t have to wait long. 

“Uncle Brendon!”

He turned, grinning as his three-year-old nephew, Justin, burst through the doorway and hurtled toward him.

“Whoa, slow down there scamp,” Brendon cautioned playfully as he bent down and scooped the boy up into his arms, tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

Justin immediately burst into giggles as he hung suspended over his uncle’s shoulder.

Entering the room a few steps behind her son, Ashleigh smiled at the sight before her.

“Mama, look at me,” Justin squealed gleefully from his upside down position. 

“I see you,” she replied, her expression full of mirth as her son swung his arms wildly about, grinning like an imp.

“Alright, down you go, young man,” Brendon said a moment later as he grasped Justin around the waist and then set him back onto his feet.

“Mama said that you are taking me to the zoo,” Justin proclaimed, his expression animated as his mother reached forward to smooth his raven-colored curls.

“Would you like that?”

“Oh yes,” he replied, bouncing up and down on his heels.

“Then to the zoo it is.”

Justin beamed.  “Will there be lions?”

“Most assuredly.”

“And tigers?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it.”

“Elephants too?”

“I imagine so.”

“Yippee,” Justin exclaimed, his smile radiant as he clapped his hands excitedly. 

“Dearest, will you run and fetch your hat from Miss Hastings before you go, I think we must have left it upstairs,” Ashleigh said.

Justin scrunched up his nose.  “Must I?”

“Yes, you must,” his mother replied in a gentle, but firm tone. “Now off you go,” she continued, steering him toward the doorway.

Justin cast one quick look at Brendon over his shoulder and then dashed from the room. 

“I haven’t seen him this excited since…well… since I don’t know when,” Ashleigh said with a laugh, smiling warmly as she turned back to Brendon.  “Thank you for offering to take him.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Brendon replied with a grin.  “You know I love spending time with my nephew, though you and Nicholas are certainly welcome to accompany us if you’d like.”

Ashleigh shook her head.  “Unfortunately Nicholas is meeting with his new estate manager, Mr. Cummings, this morning and I promised Tiffany that I would accompany her to the dressmakers for her final costume fitting.  Besides, I think Justin is looking forward to having you all to himself.”

“Costume fitting?”

“For the Richfield’s masquerade ball tomorrow night,” Ashleigh clarified.

“Ah.”

“You
are
going to attend, aren’t you?”

He cringed.  “I hadn’t planned to, no.”

Ashleigh frowned.  “Brendon, I know you tend to avoid Society gatherings, and for the most part I cannot say that I blame you, but the Richfield masquerade is the highlight of the Season.  You simply must go,” she continued, “for absolutely everyone will be there.”

Everyone?
 
His thoughts immediately turned to Daphne.  If
everyone
would be there, then surely Daphne would be there too. 

“Brendon?”

He blinked, refocusing his attention on Ashleigh.  “Yes, of course.  The Richfield masquerade, everyone will be there.”

Ashleigh grimaced at the obvious lack of interest in his tone. 

“Well, perhaps not
everyone
,” he continued with a meaningful arch of his brow. 

“Fine, suit yourself,” Ashleigh said, sighing dramatically.  “I suppose I shall simply have to come up with a plausible excuse for your nonattendance then, for I am sure to be inundated with question after question regarding your absence.  Not that anyone is likely to believe whatever excuse I put forward,” she continued with an exaggerated frown, “for I have been forced to make so many already.”

Brendon was tempted to chuckle at his sister-in-law’s blatant attempt to guilt him into attending, but wisely he held it in.  “You know, as everyone will undoubtedly be in costume, you could just
tell
them that I am in attendance and surely none would be the wiser,” he said with a perfectly straight face.

“Brendon-”

He grinned, holding up his hand.  “Alright, alright, I’ll consider it.” 

The transformation on Ashleigh’s face was instantaneous.  “Oh how wonderful!  I knew you’d change your mind,” she replied cheerfully.

He shook his head, fighting the urge to simply throw up his hands in defeat.  “Actually, I believe what I said was that I would
consider
it.”

Ashleigh continued on as if she hadn’t heard him.  “You’ll need a costume, of course.”

Brendon groaned, but fortunately he was spared from further discussion as his nephew reentered the room with a tweed, flat-billed cap positioned dutifully atop his head.

“May we go now, Uncle Brendon?” Justin asked, hastening to his uncle’s side and reaching for his hand.

“Indeed, my boy, let’s be off,” Brendon responded, eager to shelve the conversation at hand as well as thoughts of Daphne and turn his attention to his and Justin’s upcoming adventure.  And so, grinning, he allowed his energetic nephew to tug him in the direction of the door.

“Be on your best behavior, dearest, and be sure to mind your uncle,” Ashleigh advised her young son as the pair made their way from the room.  “And don’t eat too many sweets,” she cautioned, calling out after them, “or you’re sure to get a stomachache.”

A few minutes later, once he and Justin were comfortably seated in his stylish, blue-lacquered curricle, they were off, the two matched greys harnessed to the front tossing their heads spiritedly as Brendon gently flicked the reins and steered them into the slow moving traffic.

Once they were free of the narrow, residential street the horses quickly picked up speed, much to Justin’s obvious delight.  His youthful enthusiasm was thoroughly engaging and highly infectious, causing Brendon to laugh aloud as the boy called to the horses, urging the pair to an even faster pace.  Feeling better than he had in days, Brendon’s spirits continued to rise as they moved steadily in the direction of the London zoo. For knowing that all he had to concern himself with for the next several hours was keeping his young nephew entertained, was a welcome and much needed relief.

Seated in one of the Warrene’s small upstairs sitting rooms just a few blocks from the Duke and Duchess of Sethe’s residence, Daphne struggled to pay attention as Amelia and Lizzie continued to chatter and giggle about their wonderful new beaus and their grand dreams for the future.  Doing her best to disguise her own disconsolate emotions, she forced herself to smile and laugh along with them, when all she really wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry.

“I simply cannot wait to see Maxwell in his Viking costume tomorrow night,” Amelia exclaimed.  “You were so clever to suggest it, Daphne.”

Daphne blinked, the sound of her name immediately bringing her focus back to the conversation at hand.  They were discussing the Richfield masquerade ball, the much-anticipated Society event being held the following evening.  “With his coloring and large physique he will surely portray the part of the noble savage to perfection,” Daphne responded with an amused smile.  “However, as he is such a pleasant sort by nature, you shall likely have to remind him to glower and scowl upon occasion.”

“Daphne’s quite right,” Lizzie said laughingly to her sister, “for I don’t know that I have ever seen Lord Haywood without a smile upon his handsome face.”

“Yes, I suppose I shall,” Amelia agreed with a grin, “but only from time to time, for I confess that I have become quite partial to his smile,” she continued, the comment causing the other girls to grin as well.