To All the Rakes I've Loved Before (A Honeycote Novella) by Anne Barton Read Free Book Online

in front of the settee. “There is an easy solution to your dilemma.”
    “I’d love to hear it.”
    She stopped walking and looked at him with those bottomless brown eyes. “I will pay off your debt.”
    What? “Absolutely not.” He’d invite Savage’s henchmen to dinner before he accepted a half penny from her.
    “Why not?”
    “I know it may not seem like it right now”—he smoothed the collar of the robe self-consciously over his chest—“but I do have some pride. I appreciate your extremely generous offer, but please understand—this problem is of my own making, and I must handle it on my own.”
    “On your own.”
    “Yes.”
    “Would that involve trying to gamble your way out of debt?”
    “Of course not,” he spat—a little too vehemently. Because the thought had crossed his mind.
    “I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just that…” Her voice caught and she turned away.
    Swiftly, he stood and touched her shoulder. His chest felt oddly tight. “What’s troubling you?”
    Her chin trembled. “I couldn’t bear it if you were hurt again. Or worse.”
    The realization that she cared both stunned and warmed him. “Nothing else will happen to me. The men who roughed me up just wanted to send a message. I’ll settle with my creditor, and all will be well. Trust me.”
    “I do. Trust you,” she added.
    As he pulled her into his arms—carefully, in deference to her tender sensibilities and his tender ribs—he realized the truth of his own words. No matter that he’d spoken them only to comfort her, all would be well. He had changed. Not just because of the beating, but because of Amelia. Against all reason, she saw a glimmer of good in him.
    For the first time, he was starting to see it too.
    But that was enough talk about his problems.
    Amelia had her own problem to face. And he wanted to be the one to help her.

Chapter 7
    Lord B. thinks it’s bad form to borrow money from a woman.
    Miss W. thinks she will never understand male pride.
    —from the make-believe gossip papers of Miss Amelia Wimple
    Amelia didn’t know where to put her arms.
    Stephen had his around her, enveloping her in warmth and pulling her close. When her breasts pressed lightly against the hard wall of his chest, her nipples tingled deliciously and her breath hitched in her throat. She liked the way his neck smelled clean and musky at the same time and how the stubble on his chin lightly abraded the skin at her temple. Everything about his embrace served to remind her—as if she needed reminding—that he was pure male.
    Of course, this wasn’t a seduction. He was merely expressing gratitude, and maybe relief at having someone to talk with.
    Still, she felt she should do something with her arms. She would just ease them around his back, like so, and—
    Accidentally fondle his buttocks. Firm, hard buttocks. Good heavens.
    “What are you doing?” His tone was not accusatory—more… amused.
    She stepped back, quickly pinning her wrists to her hips. “I beg your pardon. I meant to reciprocate. Not that you were…”
    “Would you like me to? I’d be happy—”
    “No.” Her heart thumped so hard, surely he must hear it. She knew he was only having a bit of fun—teasing her—and yet her body responded to his wicked words. Her knees went wobbly and her belly fluttered. The thought of his hands, large and warm, skimming over her bottom, up her sides, cupping her breasts—
    “Did you have a nice visit with your friends?” he asked politely, thus making the wayward direction of her thoughts seem all the more licentious. She really ought to limit her daily consumption of gossip rags.
    “I did,” she said, surprised that she spoke the truth. “They’ve visited twice since Mama left, and it’s made me realize how much I’ve missed them.”
    She walked back to the settee and sank into the silky pillows; Stephen sat beside her—a bit closer than before. Only a few inches separated his knee from hers. And yet,