Page 33 of A Rakish Duke's Rules for Love

“I see,” she said, moving to slip out of his bed and find her discarded clothes. “I’ll find another room.”

Gabriel gave her a long look before he sat the glass on an end table, stood, and undid the tie of his robe. “No, stay.”

Hopeful, she turned back and slipped under the bed covers before he joined her, clad in a pair of trousers. His arms slipped around her waist and brought her torso to rest on his chest while he lay on his back. “Stay with me, Ana, and forgive me. That was crass of me, and you deserve better.”

Resting on his chest, right over his heart, the thunder and rain fell oddly comforting as did the shadows from the fire—but she could not sleep yet. The words she wanted to say burned in her chest like embers, but Gabriel could not know she loved him.

She swallowed hard and clenched her eyes tight. It was an impossible dream. She could not have him; their time was short, and her presence was temporary. A year from now, they would resume their separate lives, and she’d be nothing more than a memory. Yet she knew her heart would shatter into pieces when it was time to walk away.

While Anastasia took her rest, worn out by the climax he’d given her, Gabriel could not sleep a wink. His chest inflated with pride at the memory of her having shattered under him. God, her pleasure had been magnificent … and he had the damp smallclothes to prove it.

Her passion had been mind-blowing in more ways than one, and while she slept with the sweet curve of her breast pressing into him, he felt savage pride at how she responded to him, even in sleep. While his blood thickened with arousal, his jaw tautened at the thought of other men touching Ana—hisAna, he had called her.

She deserved better than careless intercourse. She deserved a man who would take time to appreciate who she was, her brilliance, her quick wit, her intuition, her beauty, and her fragile soul. She needed someone she could trust and who would be strong enough to give her his vulnerability.

Could he be the one? Could his demons allow him to feel something other than fleeting lust and stop playing with his life?

It’s a miracle I have not been shot by now.

Could he dare himself to…love? Did he dare chance it? When she was sleeping soundly, he slipped out of bed to finish the glass of brandy, and his gaze traced over her. She was like a nymph in his bed, so lovely and beautiful—even otherworldly.

The storm was still raging outside, and the flashing lights rendered her face in stark shadows. Drink finished, he slipped back into bed, and Anastasia drew close to him again like a shard of iron to a lodestone.

As soon as this storm petered away, he would send her home, away from temptation, danger, and ruin—away from him.

On her way home, Anastasia gazed out the window; it was drizzling, but her attention was not on that—it was on the memory of Gabriel.

He had woken her with a kiss and a whisper in her ear. “It’s time for you to go home, sweetheart, or your aunt will be demanding our marriage by the morrow.”

His words had carried a jest, but the humor had not reached his eyes—instead, Ana has seen reticence, fear even. He had not rushed her out of his home like a torrid secret, but Gabriel was fighting something. What that was, she did not know.

When the carriage came to the doorway, a footman came with an umbrella and ushered them inside— and right into her pacing aunt.

“Anastasia!” Aunt Elizabeth was flustered. “Dear, I grew worried when I didn’t hear from you last night. What happened?”

She battled with telling the truth.

“The storm trapped me at Victoria’s home,” she lied. “She gave us room for the night.”

“Oh, Miss Thompson is coming this eve,” her aunt reminded her.

“I know. She mentioned it. Please send her up when she comes,” Ana said over her shoulder as she headed up to her room. “Thank you.”

“You know she sent a card this morning?” her aunt asked conspiratorially. “Why would she do that if you were at her home?”

Anastasia floundered, knowing she had been caught, and feared that her aunt would demand the truth. Elizabeth came to Ana’s side, her expression sly and voice low. “I hope His Grace treated you kindly.”

Red bloomed on Anastasia’s face which was answer enough. “Don’t fret, dear,” her aunt smiled. “I remember when I was your age, and the escapades I went on. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me, but do not let it happen again, or I will take action.”

“Thank you, Aunt.” Ana sighed in relief. “It shall not happen again, I promise.”

She changed into a sleeping shift in her room and slid into the bed with her back to the door. Instead of sleeping—she worried. Last night with Gabriel had been sublime; what possibly could have changed in a matter of hours?

Eventually, she did drift off to sleep and was woken by her aunt, touching her. “Miss Victoria is here.”

“Thank you, Aunt.”

Sitting up, Ana met her friend’s worried eyes, and she left the bed donning a frilly wrapper and joined Victoria on a couch. Her friend’s eyes narrowed. “You aunt told me you went to see His Grace yesterevening—what did hedo?”

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