The Rake Enraptured by Amelia Hart Read Free Book Online

have much time to practice, you are kept so busy."
    "I play in the evenings after the children are in bed."
    "I haven't heard you."
    "I played the other night for the company." She said it very steadily, hoping to embarrass him with the lapse. He only smiled and shrugged.
    "I didn't realize. I must have had my head in the clouds."
    "Or perhaps in someone's bosom."
    "I beg your pardon?"
    "I beg yours. I didn't mean to say that." She hoped he had not caught the words, though the faint look of incredulity that came and went on his features, replaced by laughter, told her he had.
    "Well, however I was occupied at the time," now he grinned openly at her, "I'm sorry to have missed the moment. I've been enjoying watching you play. You seem transported by the music."
    "This is a very good instrument."
    "And you handle it so masterfully."
    She looked back at the music, realized sh e was lost, and turned a page. After a moment she found her place again. He stood there, watching her until she wanted to squirm with self-consciousness.
    "You're not playing cards tonight?" she said, to break the tension he made her feel. Even talking to h im was not so bad as wondering what he was thinking as he watched her.
    "I'm a very indifferent card player."
    "You seemed skilled enough." She switched to a piece of music she knew so well she could play it automatically, without thought. It was too difficult to play and talk to him while watching her music.
    "Then you can't have been concentrating last night," he said. "I lost nearly every hand."
    "It is you who were not concentrating."
    "That's true. I had something much more fascinating on my mind." His tone caressed her, and a shiver traveled down her spine.
    Inside her dress her nipples drew tight, and she closed her eyes in an anguish of embarrassment. "Oh, I wish you will not."
    "Will not what?"
    "Say such things to me, in such a tone of insinuation." She tried to make herself sound merely exasperated, and did not know if she fooled him.
    "How would you like me to say them?" He made the words soft and intimate as if he longed to please her, and needed only for her to give him the knowledge of how.
    She shuddered. "Not at all. I wish you would say nothing to me."
    "How very grim. Shall I restrain myself to silent admiration?"
    "I cannot believe that is what you are feeling."
    "Why not?"
    "Men such as you, do not stand and admire women such as I."
    "Do they not? I ca n't imagine why you'd think so."
    "Mr Holbrook, I am well aware of the sort of women you prefer. I conceive - since I hardly seek out information about you - it must be well known to all. I know equally well that I am no great beauty, nor widow, nor married, nor voluptuary. So I know you do not admire me. Plain spinsters form no part of your . . . I shall say diet , for lack of a better word."
    "You accused me of far worse, the other night. Ruining young girls, was what you implied."
    "Yes, well I'm sorry for that. I have no proof that you did any such thing. It was supposition, and I was annoyed, and I said what was imprudent. My apologies."
    "Nobly said."
    "You seem determined to flatter me. There is nothing noble about admitting one is wrong. In fact it is lowering. Far better to have never made the mistake in the first place."
    "And never be wrong, or make a mistake? That is your standard? It is a lofty one . I fear you set yourself up for disappointment."
    "To live by lofty ideals can never be wrong."
    "To live constantly with the regret of one's inadequacies must always be wrong."
    "Then don't be inadequate, Mr Holbrook."
    When she looked up, full of trepidatio n over her own insult, she saw his face brimming with mirth. "I am generally not held to be inadequate."
    "Are you held so often?" It came out without conscious thought. Oh, her awful tongue.
    His eyes widened a little, then crinkled at the corners. "I was very gratified to be held only three nights ago, by such gentle arms that I will not soon forget their tender