Light seeped into Fallon's chamber helped by the ray of sunshine filtering through the gap in her curtains. Her eyelids fluttered open. She could tell it was still early. The maids would just have woken up to start preparing breakfast and going about their daily chores. Fallon could hear the birds outside. They were rather noisy this morning, still she smiled. She always harboured a secret desire to understand their incessant morning chatter. What were they saying to each other? Where they discussing breakfast? Because they could not discuss what social functions to attend or what gowns to wear, she smiled to herself. Neither would they need to make secret plans to lay with the devil's spawn. Warm heat stole to her cheeks. A deep sense of anticipation and anxiety rushed over her in equal measure. She tossed the coverlet aside, reached for the cord and pulled the bell string, summoning her maid.

'Morning, Lady Fallon,' Louis walked in with a cup of chocolate.

'Morning Louis,' Fallon rose from her bed, removed her night clothes and with the maid's help, changed into a morning gown, suitable for walking.

She needed Louis to deliver a discreet letter to a certain rake. The previous night Fallon had sat at her escritoire, tensely opened the drawer and removed a pen and writing paper. After five tries, Fallon settled for the one that was now tightly sealed with wax in an unmarked envelope. The letter could not be sealed with the family insignia. Neither was the letter signed, though it was addressed to Braeden Kerrich, Lord of Hampton and marked "private." Fallon trusted her maid. When she was younger, her trustworthy maid had rescued her from many a harrowing situations. Mostly it had been adventurous scrapes that more suited exploratory boys, not a young lady who was daughter to the Baron Fulham.

Though none previously measured as scandalous as what she had planned for today. Did propriety not dictate that it was the gentleman who was supposed to express an interest in a lady and not the other way around? Was it not the rules of the ton that expressly forbid a lady and a gentleman to touch intimately; or letter writing; nor under any circumstances were the couple to be left alone, for that matter. Yet the rebellious Lady Fallon quite flagrantly would have transgressed at least three of the said rules by the end of today.

Fallon would have given anything to be present when Braeden opened the letter. She had three instructions. Braeden had to wear his most formal attire. Secondly he was to be on foot at the entrance to the Vauxhall Gardens and thirdly he was to without a word to the coach driver, hop onto the chaise that would be on hand to pick him up an deposit him at their rendezvous.

It was not too difficult to procure a chaise when one displayed a few sovereign coins. What would Braeden say when all Fallon's clandestine planning was going to result in an unused barn that she often frequented, when she desired solitude. Nobody had ever happened upon her there previously. She would surrender her innocence to Braeden there on the unused, yet habitable hay. Fallon laughed softly. Had Hampton ever indulged in such tardy affairs or was that below his dignity?

It was not more than fifteen minutes if she walked briskly from her home. She had paid a lot of coin to have Braeden brought to her. It would have attracted attention if he would arrive there in his own marked carriage. And it would be a dead giveaway as to what a rake like him was doing in an abandoned barn. Curious onlookers would most definitely stop to investigate not what Braeden was doing there but with whom he was there.

Fallon slipped on a cardigan. It was early, but she desired to take in the fresh morning air. Louis, had slipped away already to deliver the secret message. Most people took to walking to clear their heads, but Fallon's head needed no clearing. She was determined to meet Braeden and experience with him the intimate ways between a man and a woman. No other gentleman would do. It had to be that rake of the ton. It was him she wanted. Just the thought of his arms around her, his lips on her shoulder, his warm breath against her wanton lips heightened her desire. Yes, she would do it, today. She would surrender her virtue to Hampton. She knew he would show up. He was the type of man that would not say no to a challenge, neither would he turn down an opportunistic invitation from a lady. That is why he was a rake.

Fallon returned before her mother could detect she had been outdoors without a chaperon. She asked her maid to prepare a bath for her. She wanted to smell good, when she would lay with Braeden. Her maid had grinned mischievously and added extra rose water into the bath. Louis had laughed when she saw Fallon's cheeks take on a tinge of pink.

Fallon's nervousness increased when she saw the undergarments her maid had put on her bed.

'Louis, where did you get that?' Fallon had whispered, 'and how would I remove them when ___?' She looked away shyly, not finishing her sentence.

Louis laughed. 'I bought it for you, my lady. He will know how to remove it.'

Fallon looked away. Clearly her maid was very experienced and it seemed Braeden's expertise preceded him. Having delivered the letter personally, Louis knew exactly whom her ladyship was rendezvousing with.

'You should not have spent your coin on me ___.'

'It is nothing my lady. It was my pleasure.' Louis drew the bed curtains apart, to have them aired out.

Fallon made a mental note to save some of her pin -money next week, for Louis.

Louis combed down the length of Fallon's hair, urging her to leave it loose under her bonnet.

'I would like it braided,' Fallon countered.

'No.' Louis gave her a determined look.

Fallon looked up questioningly. 'He would want my hair___ untied?'

Louis slowly nodded her head in agreement.

'How do you know so much? You are only two summers older that I am.'

Louis smiled and softy revealed, 'because I have been with a man more than once.'

'More than one man?'

'You should carry a spencer Lady Fallon,' Louis moved away purposefully towards the drawer.

Fallon let out a breath. At the most inopportune moment, would her maid remember her place and close up.

'We are going for a walk Louis,' Fallon rose, clasping her bonnet over her fair hair.

'Yes, my lady,' Louis nodded as if she knew not of her mistress's clandestine plans.

Fallon turned around, so her maid could assist her with her spencer. She tried to ignore the anxiety building in her stomach. She shut her eyes, focused on the beautiful scenery that had met her when she had taken her first walk early this morning, the brightly coloured yellow daffodils, the water lilies dancing in the pond, the exotic looking flowers. She was doing this. She was going to meet Braeden. She could not have him thinking her spineless.

'Am I ready?' Fallon looked over her shoulder at her maid.

'Yes, Lady Fallon.'

It was with great difficulty Fallon reminded herself to walk like a lady. She wanted to run all the way to the barn or run all the way back to her chamber and lock her door.

What if Braeden did not pitch? What if for once in his roguish life, he turned down a challenge, just for the hell of it? No, he will be there. I know he will.

Fallon walked along the paddock that stretched around the abandoned barn. Her maid, she knew was a few discreet steps behind her. Louis understood her mistress loved to walk in silence, only preferring her thoughts as companion. She was a complex character was her ladyship. She believed in plain speaking. She liked honesty and hygiene. Lady Fallon delighted in her chamber smelling fresh like morning dew and combination of scent of flowers in the spring. Louis always made sure her ladyship's chamber held a fragrance of morning rose petals.

It was said that the sharpness of Lady Fallon's nose was equaled only by the slyness of her tongue but Louis had a high regard for Lady Fallon, for though she did not openly display it, she had a gentle heart. She treated the servants with kindness. The thing that irked her ladyship was being told what to do. Lady Fallon Brightmore rebelled in the face of instruction.

Fallon stopped walking and looked up. Her maid rushed forward, anticipating an instruction from her ladyship.

'I will meet you here again ___ a little later,' Fallon murmured, her cheeks brightly inflamed.

'I shall rest there in the shade,' Louis pointed to a spot that would discreetly hide her position from onlookers. 'I did bring a book.'

'Very well,' Fallon walked away with some measure of trepidation. She opened the rusty barn door and prepared to wait for Braeden. There was still a few minutes.

'I thought perhaps you may have had cold feet.' The voice drawled with lazy effort.

'My lord!' Fallon clasped her chest. 'You are here already?' Her voice sounded shrill and fearful even to her own ears, but relaxed a little as she glanced at him, his back leaning against a steel plate. He was seated on a bale of hay, his hessian clad feet crossed at the ankles.

Yes he was here. Though he had seriously suspected she would not arrive. He had thought perhaps her letter had been a jest and she planned on ridiculing him, and fool that he was, he followed the instructions to the letter. Yet here she was, looking ravishing. He could hardly breathe.

'You do looking fetching my lady,' he smiled, getting to his feet in one swift movement. Actually she looked utterly delightful and he wanted nothing more than to remove every garment adorning her body.

'Thank you my lord,' she fiddled with her bonnet.

Her eye slyly skimmed over his immaculate dress. There was a quality about him, Fallon greatly admired. Braeden was a dandy gentleman, visibly fastidious about his appearance, with perfect tailoring and cleanliness. His dress was elegant, but never ostentatious.

'Fallon.'

She was surprised at his use of her Christian name. He always maintained his taciturn disposition and his haughty composure in company. She liked how he called her name.

'Yes?'

'If this was a jest, I want you to walk away right this minute,' he offered, 'because when I touch you, I shall not allow you to leave,' he warned.

He was supposed to be a rake, not a gentleman.

Fallon boldly stepped closer to Braeden, 'touch me,' she challenged.

Braeden smiled, observed her eyes aglow, the bright pink spots on her cheeks. The nervous way her fingers clutched the metal clasps of her tiny reticule. He lifted one gloved hand, but before he took it to his lips, he dexterously ungloved her, and brought the inside of her palm to his lips. A hot sensation stirred inside her. A blaze of fire rushed through her body.

Fallon puffed out a breath. Her eyes voluntarily shut. The reticule fell softly on the grass. He pulled her into the circle of his arms. With his breath heavy as lead, he offered her an escape one more time. 'Best you leave now my lady, before I lose myself.'

Instead of heeding his advice, Fallon boldly lifted her hands to his arms. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his. She heard him mumble incoherently, before she was imprisoned in his arms and he was kissing her brutally. She should have been afraid, but the power he emanated, egged her on. Her arms wove around his shoulders, she leaned into him.

Braden took a step back. Her eyes opened. He saw her fierce determination to continue what he had interrupted.

'Is something wrong?' She whispered.

He shook his head, untied her bonnet, his eyes never left hers as his fingers brushed through her blond tresses, so soft like silk. Her bonnet was on the floor. Braeden smiled inwardly wondering about the irony of the fichu around her neck preserving her modesty. The lace cloth though fashionably elegant, was out of place on this hoyden in the barn where they were conducting an illicit affair.

'You have the most beautiful hair,' his voice was a whisper. He clutched a handful of strands and brought it to his lips. Braeden removed her spencer. The fichu was deftly undone; it fell to the floor, next to her bonnet and spencer.

Braeden removed his long tailed dress coat and spread it on the grass. 'Undress me,' he commanded.

She was momentarily paralyzed by the instruction, but her hands found the momentum they needed. His cravat was first removed. She undid the finely cut double-breasted waistcoat with its brass buttons. Its silver metallic thread was cool against her burning fingers. Fallon was surprised at how steady her hands were. She lifted his crisp, clean linen shirt over his head. He had a beautiful body. She had never seen a gentleman without any clothes on, but she had not thought a gentleman's body could be so muscular, so irresistible. Curiously, her fingers traced over his hair roughened chest. She looked up into his eyes, when he groaned loudly.

The cool muslin texture of her chemise against her skin was so soft and enticing.

'Your touch sets me on fire,' he uttered gruffly. His lips touched her shoulder. Frissons of sensations shot through her body. Expertly he undid her chemise and stays.

'Delightful indeed,' he smiled, admiring the last lace items adorned over her upper thighs.

Even though her maid had informed her he would know how to remove the lace suspenders, Fallon was amazed at how adroitly he knew his way around a lady's undergarments. It pleased her when his eyes darkened and he found difficulty breathing. Her eyes closed again as his lips swept over the soft flesh of her shoulder.

Shyly, she kept her head lowered. Braeden gently pushed her shoulders, leading her onto his tail coat. She sat down on his coat. He dropped to his knees. She was beautiful, shapely and attractive. He closed his eyes as his mouth captured hers again. Fallon's arms circled his neck, drawing him closer. Braeden hastily pulled away only to remove his boots and stockings. He reached for her shoulders again, his fingers running smoothly over her soft flesh. Her palms pressed against his irresistible chest. He gently lowered her on her back, leaning over her. His mouth caressed her neck. Found delight in her breasts. His tongue, like a fire burning desire on her breasts, his lips and his tongue teased her nipples.

'Braeden ___,' she clutched him tightly, pinning him to her body. Like a rising phoenix, her hips lifted to his. She whispered to him, hurrying him to ease the deep ache she felt.

Fallon almost choked when Braeden's fingers slipped between her thighs. A groan escaped her lips, as his fingers delved deeper, finding her moistness.

Lord, was a gentleman, supposed to touch her so intimately?

Her hips thrust more urgently, his name torn from her lips again. Braeden could hardly contain himself. He had always known she would be all fire, brimstone, and wanton as a harlot beneath a man. He could wait no longer and thrust into her without warning.

She cried out. His mouth captured hers, containing her cry. He should have known she had lied. He should have known she had not surrendered herself to another liked she had falsely claimed. Why? Why had she given herself to him? Yet he could not deny himself the pleasure of her body. He wanted her as he had never wanted a woman. He was gentle as he lifted himself and more slowly eased himself into her again and again until he felt her tremors and when he felt her aftershocks still exploding inside her, allowed himself a release.

'I am sorry, Fallon. I should have been more gentle.'

'There was no need to be gentle,' she tried to lie her way out.

'Stop it!' He shook her shoulders. 'You have not lain with another lover.'

"Lover?" Was Braeden her lover?

Braeden looked down into her face. He was still laying on her, though he used his elbows to hold his own weight. 'You are remarkable,' he murmured, indulging in another kiss. His head lifted. His fingers traced over her face. He smiled into her eyes.

She squirmed uncomfortably. Braeden laughed and rolled onto his back, gathering her into his arms. His eyes were closed. He was breathing heavily. Long dark lashed fanned his face. He was an attractive rake, Fallon decided. She was envious of the lovers he had before her and the ones he will take pleasure in after her.

Who would be the lucky lady that will receive an offer from him? Certainly not her, she was deflowered. Not worthy to become countess to this earl.

Fallon rested her cheek on his chest. Her eyes remained opened as Braeden rested with his eyes closed. He was the first man she had seen unclothed. How did others compare to him? Would any fare better than Braeden? She doubted it. She had been to many balls, danced with many gentlemen, but none, set her body alight, as his mere touch did.

Braeden stirred, his eyes opened. Fallon lifted her head, when she felt him rouse.

He stretched and kissed her. She smiled shyly.

'Much as it feels like being in heaven laying here with you Fallon, I think we should leave here before we are discovered.'

'Yes, of course,' she rose, with her back to him, hastily clothing herself again. In silence, Braeden did the same, neither commenting on their earlier coupling.

Fallon faced him again, when she was fully dressed. 'When shall we meet again?'

'"Meet again?' His face was a hard mask. 'You wish to become my paramour?' His eyes were colder than she had ever seen them.

A hiss escaped her lips as if he had struck her across her face.