‘What are you doing, hiding in the gardens my lady?’ Braeden frowned, a trifle irritated that he had, had to comb the length and breadth of the Parsnip’s estate in search of Fallon.

She felt like she had been in the hands of her old nurse, being chided during one of her many childish transgressions. Fallon looked up uncomfortably. She was hoping to evade him, so he would not take her into supper. ‘I am not hiding Lord Braeden,’ she answered. ‘I merely came out for a breath of fresh air.’

‘Is the air not fresh at the balcony? Did you have to venture so far out here?’

Her mouth curled in scorn. ‘If it is too much of an effort my lord, I do not know why you have bothered.’ Her eyes flashed with fire. 'In fact it shall please me if you turned into supper without me. I really am not hungry.’

Braeden’s brows shot up. ‘Will not the Parsnips deem your ungracious gesture impolite?’

Fallon looked away. They most likely would, although they were too well bred to speak of it and Fallon was quite sure her mother would have no small amount of words with her when they returned home.

‘I shall go in, but not with you my lord,’ she would not bow to pressure from him. ‘I would much rather enter on the arm of an honourable gentleman,’ she provoked him.

‘I am an honorable man, when I choose to be,’ he mocked.

'Very well,' Fallon challenged in a spirited voice. 'Enlighten me then, of your abundant virtues.'

Braeden laughed. 'I suspect my only virtue will be my admission of having too many vices, my lady.' Braeden’s eyes were mocking.

She gawked, surprised at the blatant confession of his worthless character.

‘But alas, that is a conversation for another time,’ he offered her his arm.

Fallon lifted the cherry red silk of her skirts, intending to storm away, dark fingers manacled her wrists, preventing her escape, pulling her roughly. Curls of hair slipped out of her elaborate coiffure. It coiled around the hollow of her throat. Her eyes speared him defiantly. She refused to be browbeaten. But he smiled wickedly, for she was no match to his superior strength.

I am in a mind to knock the scandalous smile of the lecherous beast’s face.

‘Will you willingly take my arm, my lady or shall I use some means of persuasion?’ His threat was not lost on her.

She lowered her eyes not wanting him to see, that she was aware of the attraction between them.

‘I am not overset at encountering a rake, even one like yourself, who has the ability to charm a lady,’ she threw at him.

A sardonic gleam flared in his eyes. ‘I had no idea you held so much charity for me,’

‘Do not be a dimwit,’ she insulted him.

Braeden laughed, pulling her roughly up against his ample chest. ‘”Dimwit,” I might be to you,’ he murmured close to her ear, ‘but desirable too, would you not agree,’ his lips dragged across her cheeks to her throat. ‘My wagon is not too far away,’ he whispered, ‘if you seriously wish to miss supper.’

His suggestion was the height of vulgarity or quite scandalous. She would be ostracized by the ton. Her father would most likely disown her, yet she could not deny, she was curious to know what it would feel like to be in Braeden’s arms … unclothed. Scandalous indeed, if she played her cards right, she could plan a rendezvous in the dark, on another night. Braeden would never offer for her, she knew that, so before she took a husband, she wanted to experience passion with a worldly rake like Braeden. She knew when she married it would not be about this ‘love’ nonsense. She knew Braeden could ignite the raging fires inside her. Why not experiment with it before she surrendered to a worthless marriage commitment?

She looked up into his dark eyes. Her fingers unfolded on his waistcoat. She stood up on the tips of her toes, her lips tasting his. Braeden could not believe she was that bold. He smiled mischievously, ‘is that to whet my appetite? It is working,’ his mouth closed over hers, devouring her in an intimate kiss. His large palms slid down her back, curving over her shapely bottom.

‘Let us go in to supper,’ she pushed him away. She was already in trouble for going out without her chaperone.

Braeden laughed, adjusting his coat. He took her hand and placed it on his arm

‘Pray tell me what is funny?’ She hissed.

‘You’re an innocent,’ he challenged.

‘I thought you were a rake! You disappoint me. I lost that two summers ago,’ she lied.

‘You do not speak the truth,’ his fingers pierced into her skin.

‘Shall we put it to the test then?’ She challenged right back. What is the worst that would happen? Either he would back off, which she doubted very much or she would have her wish granted to be in Braeden’s arms…naked as the day she was born.

His eyes danced overs her questioningly. ‘Are you propositioning me, Lady Fallon?’

It was too late to back track now, not that she had any intention of doing so. ‘What if I am?’

‘By God! You are serious!’

‘I shall send a letter to you tomorrow, with my chamber maid,’ her eyes met his meaningfully, ‘of where we shall meet. Do not be late,’ she warned as they entered the Parsnip’s ballroom, just in time to follow the last couple, entering the supper room.

Braeden seated Fallon at the table. He did the gentlemanly thing and walked to the display table to collect their supper, piling two plates, with mutton chops, chicken drumsticks, smoked ham, some vegetables and sweets.

‘Thank you, my lord,’ Fallon smiled politely, but when her eyes narrowed at Braeden’s they were cold as ice.

‘Champagne dear?’ The gentleman to her left offered.

‘Thank you,’ Fallon smiled. She listened to the conversation by some rowdy gentlemen debating the merits of capital punishment.

Fallon’s gaze filtered to her parents at the far end, in conversation with one of the other guests of the Parsnips.

‘So what is your opinion then?’ The gentleman next to Fallon drew her into the conversation, just as Braeden took the chair opposite Fallon.

‘Capital punishment?’ She questioned, sipping from her champagne glass.

‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘Would you be for it or against it?’

Fallon’s eyes met Braeden’s. He was smiling, listening intently, awaiting her response. Personally she thought it inhumane, glad that it was outlawed in Britain, but the rebel in her made her speak contrary to her belief.

‘I would wish it to be reinstated,’ she declared. ‘If a man commits a crime he should be removed from society.’ Fallon knew her unpopular opinion hit a few sensitive nerves for there was a sudden lull in the conversations around the table.

‘Is it only my gender then that commits crime?’ Braeden challenged.

Her comment had not been gender specific. Braeden knew that, yet he attempted to rile her.

‘In most instances, my lord,’ her eyes met his squarely. ‘I also believe rakes should be executed.’

‘Fallon!’ Her mother called out from the other side of the table.

There were a few gasps around the table, but Braeden’s face reflected nothing. He guarded his feelings so well, one never knew what was going on in that intelligent head of his. It was common knowledge in the ton, that Braeden was regarded as a celebrated rake.

‘I do believe had you been a man, my lady,’ you would have been called out for that provocation,’ the gentleman next to her grinned.

‘There you have it then,’ Fallon stated. ‘A demonstration of capital punishment would be metered to me, I do believe.’

‘Offending a man’s honour is accepted as punishable by law,’ the gentleman defended.

‘If I have been offensive,’ she enunciated, her eyes challenging Braeden.

‘And you have not,’ Braeden pronounced. ‘I do believe the lady was merely stating an opinion, not an inference,’ his eyes circled the supper table at leisure, before it settled on Fallon.

He knew, as she did, that she had made a direct accusation at him, but gentleman that he was, he deliberately misinterpreted her comments.

The rest of supper continued, with Fallon’s anxiety towards Braeden building to a crescendo. She waited patiently for the meal to end, so she could feign a headache and ask her mother’s permission to leave.

‘The supper, to your liking Lady Fallon?’ He smiled, proving no malice toward her in his casual attempt at conversation.

‘I shan’t die of food poisoning, shall I?’ She goaded him.

‘Fallon! You will apologize at once,’ her mother instructed.

‘Whatever for?’ She decried, not meeting her mother’s eyes.

Braeden smiled, but she was not fooled, his words that followed, though seemingly harmless, were a warning. ‘I am fairly adept with my sword, my lady.’

‘Is that a threat my lord?’ she put down her knife and fork.’

He roared with laughter. ‘Are you proposing we take this outside?’

‘I propose you two go to the dance floor,’ Lady Parsnip suggested, when their meal ended,

‘Excellent idea,’ Braeden stood up, and walked to Fallon’s chair.

‘I disagree,’ Fallon refuted, making no attempt to accept Braeden’s hand.

‘My lady,’ he lowered his head and whispered in her ear. ‘I will carry you to the dance floor, if you do not come willingly,’ he was smiling, but not for her benefit.

Her eyes met his. She saw he would carry out his threat. Conceding defeat, she rose, placing her palm in his, but she just had to have her say.

‘I do doubt that you will carry out such a threat,’ she smiled back, ‘however I shall not call your bluff.’

‘Very wise,’ he bowed in acknowledgement.

‘So tell me my lady,’ he taunted Fallon, as he skillfully guided her around the dance floor. ‘Where shall we rendezvous?’

‘You shall be duly informed,’ she refused to be baited.

Braeden sighed. ‘I am most intrigued, what shall be the dress code?’

Fallon laughed. Not because he amused her, but the colourful thought of her naked body wrapped around his, seemed to hold some humour at that moment.

Her eyes met his squarely. Your valet shall dress you in your most formal attire, Braeden Kerrich, Lord of Hampton.’

Braeden smiled. His valet did dress him on some occasions, but mostly he did not like to be fussed over and he liked having control of his choice of attire and it must be said the Lord of Hampton was one of the most exceptionally well dressed gentlemen of the ton.

‘I shall delight in the pleasure of undressing you my lord,’ Fallon’s seductive voice carried a boldness she far from felt. The words she uttered was even a shock to her own ears. She prayed she would be able to carry through with her wanton impudence.

Braeden could not believe her effrontery, involuntarily, his eyes widened to the size of saucers. He should not really be surprised, from what he gathered about Lady Fallon Brightmore, she was rebellion personified. There was a sweetness about her mouth that could beguile her victims, it did not fool him. It spurred him to taunt her.

‘If I may be so bold, my lady,’ his voice was deep and husky, he drew her closer, her sweet smelling breath caressed his lips. ‘It would please me immensely, if the gown you will wear, will exhibit your generous décolletage,’ his fingers slid down her back, curving over her ample bottom. ‘I do find a lady in an appealing gown, most irresistible’ he murmured huskily. Braeden’s mouth curved in a smile, sending shivers of delight down her spine.

Fallon was speechless, her eyes darkened, aroused by his seductive voice and his hand doing certain things to her derrière, that a lady should not take pleasure in. She tried to tear her eyes away from his face, but like a magnet, she was drawn to the sculptured planes, aggressive jawline and those lips that begged experimentation. Thankfully the crowded ballroom provided a measure of seclusion.

‘That can be arranged,’ she found herself boldly agreeing to his preposterous request.

Braeden was taken aback. He had made the ludicrous suggestion in the hope she would back out of her scandalous plan, not agree with his rakish demand. Whatever was the matter with her? He had thought she was just sporting with him and obtaining a bit of pleasure from seeing him in a state of arousal, but the determined look in her eyes were unmistakable. The lady meant business and Braeden had a weakness where an attractive lady was concerned, he could not deny her request. He was a gentleman, how could he?

‘My lady,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Just so you know, if you do arrive at our point of rendezvous, there will be no turning back, not until I take my pleasure from your delectable bosom and deepest parts of your beautiful body.’

Fallon blushed scarlet at his flowery description, as much as it caused her some embarrassment, excitement more than fear reigned through her body. Would he really take her? Yes he would he was a rake. Adrenalin surged through her, she had to find Carissa. She needed an alibi or she would be disowned by her father in the morning.

‘Do not expect to meet a gentleman,’ Braeden’s warning rung in her ear.

I know the difference between a rake and a gentleman,’ she whispered, ‘and nobody could accuse you of being the latter.’

‘God’s teeth woman! I have never looked more forward to bedding a lover!’

She gasped at his unsavoury choice of words, fortunately the music had ended and he was returning her to her station.

There was a break in the dancing, the guests took advantage to have some much needed drinks. Fallon observed Carissa in conversation with the Marquis of Dunbar, Drew Frewer. Fallon knew Carissa would be most upset if she dragged her friend away from her beloved Drew, but Fallon’s need was urgent.

‘Hello Lady Carissa, Lord Dunbar,’ Fallon smiled brightly.

Carissa’s eyed narrowed at her friend, pleading for her to go away. Ignoring the private message, Fallon tucked her arm into Carissa’s.

‘It is much too warm in here,’ Fallon’s eyes sunk into Carissa’s. ‘Let us go out for some fresh air.’

‘Not now___ please,’ Carissa whispered in Fallon’s ear.

‘Please tell us you do not mind, my lord,’ Fallon was falling over herself in her polite tone.

Dunbar’s face did not reflect whether he was pleased for Carissa to stay or leave. ‘I do believe I have monopolized Lady Carissa’s time. Perhaps I shall join the gentlemen in a game of cards.’

‘Thank you my lord,’ Fallon smiled delightedly, dragging Carissa by the arm.

‘That was most ___. Could you not wait half an hour? I do believe Drew was going to ask me to go riding tomorrow,’ Carissa groaned loudly.

‘Since you are not certain and my needs are more urgent than yours, let us forget about your charming Drew, for the moment.’

‘What is it?’ Carissa clenched her teeth with impatience.

‘Fallon laughed. ‘I need you to invite me to tea tomorrow at eleven.’

Carissa stared at her friend questioningly. ‘Right now, I feel no hospitality towards you. Pray tell me why should I invite you to tea?’ Carissa’s eyes narrowed at her friend. ‘And something tells me I should not be expecting you tomorrow at eleven or at any time.’

Fallon laughed again. ‘Before we leave tonight, you are to invite me to tea. Emma will not be accompanying us. I have arranged for Burward to take her on a picnic.’

‘Pray tell me, what exactly you will be up to tomorrow when you are supposed to be having tea with me.

I will be in Braeden’s arms.

‘Be a honey will you Carissa. I promise I will make it up to you and Drew,’ she dangled a sweet carrot.’

Carissa’s eyes became interested. ‘You will?’

Fallon smiled. ‘It will be unforgettable.’ She vowed.

‘Who are you going to be with?’ Carissa demanded. ‘Neels? Landon? Avery?’ She mentioned the names of some of the gentlemen who had an eye on Fallon.

‘I cannot say,’ Fallon murmured, ‘but shall we return inside? Do remember to come to mamma and invite me to tea,’ she instructed.

‘I want to ___,’ Carissa lifted her hands into the air, depicting a strangling motion.

That evening, after her chamber maid had helped her to bath, Fallon had asked her maid to remain and sought some valuable information from her. “Teach me the ways between a man and a lady, and how do I please a gentleman?” Fallon had whispered. The maid had smiled, knowing her mistress was wont to be a naughty one.

Fallon lay in her bed now, she smiled as she remembered what the maid had revealed.

“They are not gentlemen in bed,” she had cautioned.

Had Braeden not sounded that warning already?

“They do not want you to be a lady, either. A man wants his lover to be bold and not afraid to experiment,” she had smiled. “Do not seem to eager,” she had warned.

Fallon shifted uncomfortably in her bed when she remembered the maid’s demonstration on how to give pleasure to a man. Fallon had baulked at the maid’s skilful tutoring.

“I will not do that!’ Fallon had remonstrated.

“Then you do not really want to please your lover,” the maid had rebutted.

Fallon tossed in her bed. If she wanted to make a convincing display of her skills as an experienced lover, then she would have to enact what her maid had taught her or risk Braeden laughing in her face about her losing her innocence two summers ago. With that nerve wrecking thoughts, Fallon surprisingly fell