The Rake Effect (Of Rogues, Rakes, and Scoundrels Book 2), include A Rake's Kiss

Rakes, Romance, and Seduction

In the ballrooms and shadowed gardens, a lady’s heart is never truly safe—and neither is her reputation. From cunning dukes to mischievous viscounts, the most charming rakes know exactly how to bend the rules…and bend the hearts of the ladies who dare to catch their attention.

In this collection of sizzling, irresistible tales, scandalous gentlemen will tempt any lady they choose. With stolen kisses and whispered promises beneath moonlit skies they will use all the charm they possess to gain what they desire. With the ever-present threat of discovery, each story explores forbidden desire, reckless courage, and the thrilling power of desire.

Will these rakish gentlemen find love, or will they throw away their only chance at happiness? Enter a world where scandal is inevitable, passion unavoidable, and every rake has a story worth stealing.

All-new stories by:Amanda MarielAubrey WynneBeverley OakleyDawn BrowerEliana PiersJane CharlesRachel Ann SmithRamona Elmes

INCLUDES

Miss Nicoll Driscoll learned his secret.

Lord Cecil Claxton needs her promise to never tell.

She agreed.

For a price.

One simple kiss that would remain in their memories long after they parted—never to meet again.

Until they did.

Eight months later in a ballroom during the London Season.

What was it about Lord Cecil that tempted Nicoll to be bolder than any miss should?

Could it simply be that he was a rake and a miss could not help but be susceptible to his charm.

Or was it simply him?

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PROLOGUE

Jersey, Channel Islands, September 1817

On occasion and thankfully not often, Miss Nicoll Driscoll suffered from insomnia. She also learned long ago that if her thoughts would not settle then it was futile to retire because she would only toss and turn, which would lead to a frustrating night with little sleep. Instead, she walked until she grew tired. Such was the case tonight, but instead of taking the path to the beach, which had been her original intention, Nicoll settled on a patch of grass at the edge of a low cliff.

She blew out a sigh and hugged her knees to her chest, hoping the sound of gentle waves would calm her mind. Except, those waves were rather turbulent. She looked above but there were hardly any clouds in the sky that would indicate a storm.

With a shrug, she rested her chin on her knees and hoped to be lured into sleepiness, but voices from below drifted up and drew her curiosity. Nicoll inched closer to the edge to see who might be out this late only to spy four men carrying crates and casks down the hill by way of another path and setting them on the beach to be retrieved by two men with a dinghy, who took them to a larger ship anchored in deeper water.

Smugglers!

She suspected that the crates contained silks and lace, which were often smuggled from the island. As for the casks, no doubt they contained brandy.

However, because she did not want to know more than she already did, Nicoll rose to return to her home. Unfortunately, her foot dislodged small rocks and pebbles, which fell over the edge to the beach below.

She stilled and held her breath as she watched and hoped that the men did not notice. The men stopped what they were doing and looked up and then at her.

One of the men spoke to the others, gestured first to the path and then to the dinghy, before he turned and took the path up the hill—toward her.

What to do?

Did she wait? Meet him halfway or disappear and sneak back home and hope that he did not recognize her.

Nicoll snorted.

Nobody ever recognized her even though she had attended several balls and entertainments because her father was the fourth son of a marquess and he was on the island on behalf of the Crown, therefore the residents wanted him to find favor with them, especially if they were merchants.

The man’s boots crunched against the gravel and as he rounded the curve and the moon lit his face, Nicoll realized that he was none other than Lord Cecil Claxton.

Oh, she knew him, or of him.

Third son of a duke and a barrister who had visited Jersey at least twice because of a difficult estate matter.

Was that a ruse? Was there even an estate? Unfortunately, her family had not lived on the island long enough to know if Lord Cecil visited often, which would make him suspect.

He was a handsome devil with light blue eyes and blonde hair, sculpted cheeks and jaw and tempting lips. And he carried a confidence that she rarely witnessed in others…

Nicoll sucked in a breath. There were many things about Lord Cecil that were tempting, but she would not succumb to his charm as so many before her. She had attended many of the same entertainments as Lord Cecil and watched him flirt and tease, his smile making silent promises. He was the type of man that no sensible miss would ever be caught alone with…

“Is it not rather late to be out and alone?” he inquired when he came to a stop before her.

Had Lord Cecil not had a reputation of only seducing those who were willing, she would be frightened.

But, from all that she had gleaned, he was delightful, fascinating…an honorable and honest rake of no promises. Thus, Nicoll decided that she was safe in his presence despite the lateness of the hour and—alone!

“I could not sleep.”

“Or you were here to spy?”

“I had no idea that anyone else would be out,” she returned. “Is it not also late for you and your friends?”

“Men are not bound by the same rules, nor would these circumstances see us ruined.”

“Nor will I be.”

He cocked a blonde eyebrow. “So long as no one comes across us.”

“Then perhaps you should return to your task and leave me be.” She smiled.

“Yes, my task.” Lord Cecil narrowed his blue eyes. “What did you see?”

“Men loading a boat with crates and casks,” she answered. “As it was done under the cover of darkness, I can only assume that you did not go through the Customs House at St. Helier.”

He said nothing. Instead, he stared, his blue eyes bore into hers while he weighed his next words or perhaps actions. Regardless, Nicoll had no intention of waiting around to see what he decided and turned to start back up the path that would take her to the very top of the hill.

“Where are you going?” Lord Cecil demanded.

A polite question would have deserved a well-mannered answer. However, a demand received a single word response. “Home.”

“And where is home?”

Nicoll glanced over her shoulder. “I see no purpose in telling you.”

He hurried to catch up then stepped into her path, which forced Nicoll to cease her progress. It was also the first time that she had suffered a moment of fear then quickly dismissed it. Lord Cecil would not harm her no matter what the circumstances. Of that she was certain.

“My concern is that you may feel the need to tell someone what you witnessed tonight.”

“You want my assurance that you can return to your tasks with no fear of repercussions for what many would consider an illegal act even though the crime is not truly in Jersey, but when you bring your contraband ashore in England.” She smiled. “No doubt you might believe that you can charm me into making a promise of silence or provide my address. Is that not what a rake would assume?”

“Or you could give me your name,” he added. She also noticed that he didn’t deny his intention.

“You shall have neither name nor address,” Nicoll returned with a smile as she stepped around him.

He reached out and gently grasped her elbow. “What of an assurance of silence?”

“I see no need to offer such.” Seldom did she have the upper hand in any matter. In fact, she was rarely noticed and the power she currently held over the charming Lord Cecil offered a thrill of daring and excitement. “It is midnight, therefore, who would I tell? There is no one at the customs office, which is also nearly two miles away, and I am without a horse. Therefore, I intend to return to my home.”

“What of tomorrow?” he asked.

Nicoll shrugged. “I anticipate that any information I may be able to provide will no longer be essential as it is likely you will have already sailed.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”

“It is not an assurance,” she quickly corrected his assumption. “I will think on it more tomorrow, after I awaken.”

Nicoll glanced down at the hand that gently held her arm. He had only meant to stop her, not once using force or pressure that would have been painful. Yet, an unfamiliar warmth spread from his touch.

Lord Cecil slowly let go of her arm.

She offered a nod then strode up the hill leaving him behind and no doubt wondering what she might do.

Only then did she let a true smile of enjoyment form.

For once, her insomnia had produced a most enjoyable evening encounter.

***

 Cecil wanted her to stop walking, turn around and return.

He wanted the promise or at least her name, but he gained neither.

Instead, he watched the dark curls dance on the wind and the gentle sway of her hips as she retreated up the path and away from him

Who was that woman?

She looked familiar but Cecil could not recall where he had seen her.

She was quite pretty with grey eyes, nearly silver in the moonlight, and high cheekbones and full lips. It was not possible that they had ever attended the same dinners, balls or entertainments because Cecil would certainly have requested an introduction.

Was she a maid, shopgirl, or governess?

He blew out a sigh and turned down the path.

This would need to be the last time he smuggled anything out of Jersey. It wasn’t as if there were truly estate matters and such a ruse could only be used for so long, but now he had been discovered.

It also mattered not whether they had crossed paths previously because he was unlikely to see her again and she was correct that he, his men and the ship would be gone before morning.

At least, that had been the plan.

Instead, a storm blew in before the sun rose. High, violent waves crashed against the beach and had his ship not been anchored further away from the cove, it may have been splintered across the boulders that jutted out of the water.

Throughout a good portion of the morning, the wind blew, lightning flashed and thunder boomed, which did nothing to help ease his anxiety as he waited for someone from the Custom House to pay him a visit.

Yet, nobody arrived at his door and as his departure had been delayed by a day, Cecil decided to take a risk and advantage of the invitation received from Mr. and Mrs. Riley. Everyone of authority, including those who worked in customs, was expected to be in attendance.

With a deep breath, he stepped across the threshold and immediately came face to face with The Lieutenant Governor, in conversation with the Custom Collector, Mr. Jeffery. With them was another Custom Collector, more recent to the island and Custom House, Mr. Driscoll. When all three men looked in his direction and offered a nod of greeting, Cecil finally relaxed. She had kept his secret. Now, if he only knew her name then he could thank her.

Then again, she may still be deciding or assumed he had already sailed.

Those thoughts did not sit well with him.

As he stepped further into the room, he paused only long enough to see who was present and with whom he might strike up a conversation or possibly seduce, only to be brought up short when he glanced a woman with dark hair to his left and returned his attention to her.

He’d almost missed her standing in the shadows, near the far wall and beside the doors to the terrace with Mrs. Whitcroft.

Her eyes met his and the corner of her mouth tipped right before she took a sip of wine.

In that moment, Mr. Whitcroft joined his wife, someone Cecil had come to know very well, and who could provide the introduction he sought.

Focused and with purpose, Cecil crossed the room and stopped before the couple and after greeting them, turned his attention of his mystery woman.

“Would you please introduce me to your lovely companion?”

Mrs. Whitcroft smiled brightly. “Lord Cecil Claxton, please allow me to present Miss Nicoll Driscoll.”

His stomach tightened. It was too much of a coincidence for her to share the same last name with a man appointed by the Crown to serve in the Custom House and it took everything within his being not to react to the name.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Cecil.”

He took her hand then bowed over it. “Miss Nicoll, how is it possible that we have not met prior to now?”

“Because she likes to hide in the shadows and observe, while you do your best to charm every woman in the rooms you occupy.”

If what Mrs. Whitcroft said was true, then Miss Nicoll likely knew exactly who he was last night, yet had said nothing.

“And now that the two of you have been introduced, I insist you escort Miss Nicoll from this wall. Either take a turn about the room or a stroll in the gardens so that she can abandon her preferrable wallflower status.”

He offered his arm. “Miss Nicoll, would you care to join me? It is a lovely evening now that the storms have moved on.”

“Can one view gardens in the darkness?”

“There are several lanterns and candles,” Mrs. Whitcroft promised.

“I would enjoy the pleasure of your company.” He needed to get her alone so that they could discuss what happened the evening before.

“And perhaps I might enjoy yours,” she said as she placed her gloved hand on his sleeve.

Cecil said nothing else as he led her through the double doors, across the terrace, currently occupied by five other couples, then down the steps, past lilies and dahlias and finally came to a stop before a grouping of blue and violet asters.

“By chance are you related to Mr. Jonathan Driscoll who was appointed by the Crown to serve in the Custom House.”

She smiled. “He is my father.”

“Yet, you did not feel it important enough to tell me so last night?”

“No,” she answered simply.

“Why?”

“I truly saw no reason to do so.” She shrugged. “It is my father’s job to catch smugglers, not mine.”

“Does that mean that what you witnessed will remain between us? A secret shared.”

Her grey eyes glinted silver as she studied him. “I have not yet decided.”

Had the corners of her mouth not twitched into a near smile, he would have considered her serious. Instead, she was playing, teasing because she knew he had no control over the outcome. She then turned and strolled away from him and further into the garden, the torch lights casting their shadows on the brick walk.

“Is there anything that I can say or do to convince you to hold my secret?”

Miss Nicoll stopped and turned to face him; her grey eyes lit with intrigue. “Such as payment for my silence?”

If she wanted funds, he would happily pay her. “If that is what you wish.”

“What if I desire something else from you?”

He studied her face, composed and slightly humored. She was not flirting with him, but if not money, what could she possibly want?

“There are two matters that have me quite curious. One, I cannot pursue, however, the other I can…with you.”

“What would that be?”

“A kiss,” she answered. “I have not experienced one before. As you are a rake with a rather risqué reputation, you would be the perfect person to settle my curiosity.”

Did she not care about her reputation or did she hope that they would be caught and they would be forced to wed?

Yet, she did not strike him as a devious miss that one must avoid.

“I would understand if you have no interest. It was merely a suggestion since you want a promise and I have a curiosity.”

Oh, he was very much interested in kissing those full lips, so why wasn’t he?

Because she had not been kissed before, which he found very difficult to believe, and she simply wanted to experience one. Kissing was not an experiment. It was desire and passion.

“Given your hesitation, I will leave you to enjoy your evening.”

She walked past him to return to the house, but he could not let her leave.

Not without her promise.

No! That wasn’t the reason.

Not without her kiss.

Cecil reached out and gently grasped her arm and pulled her back until she had turned, stopping only when

her breasts connected with his chest. Miss Nicoll gasped and looked up at him, her silver eyes wide. He did not give her time to prepare but pressed his lips against hers, which were perfectly parted in surprise. Cecil nearly lost himself in the kiss, especially when her body relaxed against his and her hands came up to grasp his shoulders.

Tilting his head for better access, he devoured her, taking and giving, nearly blinded with desire as the rest of the world faded away. There were no sounds, no garden. Nothing. Just the two of them.

No kiss had ever silenced the world before. He pulled away, shocked at how heated the blood was that pulsed through his veins. He was breathless.

Nicoll stepped back and smoothed her skirts and smiled. “Thank you, Lord Cecil. I have now experienced a kiss. And, for that, your secret will remain with me.” Then, with a nod, she turned and walked away from him as if she had not been affected at all.

She had not even sighed with pleasure.

Women always sighed with pleasure after he had kissed them, especially after such an exceptional kiss.

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