Excerpt of To Kiss a Rake by Barbara Monajem

Setup: Melinda Starling was abducted by mistake and is
now being returned home by her abductor. She falls asleep
in the carriage.

Melinda dreamed she was safe in the arms of a truly
wonderful man. He adored her with a passion that knew no
bounds; she loved him with all her heart. The swaying of
the coach pressed them together. She inhaled his warm,
male scent and snuggled closer, savoring the way her
breast rubbed against his arm. She ached for the pressure
of his lips on hers, yearning, yearning… She always woke
before her dream lover kissed her.

Not this time. His lips were warm and soft, his breath
hot and laced with brandy. Her lips parted instinctively
beneath his, and she heard herself give a little moan of
pleasure. The tip of his tongue slipped between her lips
and touched hers.

The coach came to a halt. Her eyes fluttered open as she
woke. The obnoxious lord who’d sworn he wouldn’t touch
her broke the kiss, still holding her in his arms. She
shoved at him, but he held fast.

“How dare you?” she cried.

The interior of the coach was still cloaked in gloom, but
dawn was well on the way. She caught a glimpse of amused
eyes before he pulled the brim of his hat over his face.
“You fell asleep and slid right into my arms,” he said,
his calm voice feeding her rage. “I couldn’t resist.”

She wiped a hand across her mouth. “I was—I was—” She
couldn’t get the words out. She’d been saving her first
kiss for the man she would marry, and this dastardly
person had stolen it.

Thank God she was home. She wrenched herself from his
arms just as the groom opened the door. She tumbled out
of the coach without waiting for the steps, gathered the
skirts of her costume, and ran up the pavement to the
house.

She lifted the knocker and rapped it hard against the
door, and rapped it again. And waited, shivering in the
chill dawn wind, her arms tight about herself. Hurry!

No one answered. The servants must be asleep, but surely
Grandmama would have left someone on watch for her. She
knocked once again. And waited.

Silence, but for the shuffling of the horses, the barking
of a dog, and the rumble of a wagon in the next street.
London was coming to life.

She turned, anxious now. Why did the coach still wait?
“You needn’t stay any longer. Someone will wake up and
let me in.”

“Someone should already be awake and waiting,” the man
said irritably from within the coach. He didn’t give the
order to leave.

Melinda rapped again. What was going on? She thought she
heard a sound within the house, thought she heard a
voice, and knocked once more… Nothing. This was ghastly.
She had to get indoors before someone saw her.

“Miss Starling, are you sure this is the right house?”
The man who’d kissed her was framed in the coach window,
his hat low over his brow once again.

“Of course I’m sure. Why don’t they answer?”

“Try the area stairs,” he suggested softly.

She’d never gone in by the servants’ entrance, but it was
a good idea, the sort she would usually think of herself,
but she couldn’t get her mind to work properly. She
lifted the latch and hurried down the steep, winding
stairs, shivering now from anxiety as much as the chill
dawn air.

She banged hard on the door. It was close to the
housekeeper’s room, so surely that kindly woman would
hear.

From inside the house came a furious bellow. “No! Do not
open that door.”

Melinda froze. That was Grandma’s voice. She was…ordering
the housekeeper not to let Melinda inside.

Her shiver became a tremble. She stumbled up the stairs
and through the gate. She gaped at the dark house, her
home, its curtains drawn like the blank eyes of a statue,
cold and forbidding and utterly silent again.

“Damn,” the man who had kissed her said. “What the devil
is going on?”

The sky lightened, and it finally dawned on Melinda.
Grandmama wasn’t going to let her in. She’d been turned
away from her own home.

“Did I hear her say not to open the door to you?” the man
asked in a low, disbelieving voice.

Melinda blinked back hot, horrified tears and faced him,
away from the house and the grandmother who had always
wanted to be rid of her. “She used to threaten to wash
her hands of me,” she said. “And now she has done it.”