that time
was precious and she should be starting to sketch out
the angel patterns on the glass bowl, but she was not
at all sure that she could concentrate on her work
whilst Lucas was there. She went into the storeroom
that led off her studio. The room was cold and dark,
and the ranks of glasses, bowls and vases that were
normally stacked there to await engraving had dwin-
dled until there were only a few items left. This was
the last of her uncle’s stock and Rebecca knew that
she would have to order more glass in soon, but she
58
The Rake’s Mistress
did not have the means to pay for it yet. When the
commission for the Archangel Club was completed,
perhaps... But that was assuming that she would gain
more orders. It would be dangerous to buy more glass
when her business was so precarious. With a sigh, Re-
becca reached for the large glass rose bowl at the back
of the shelf and took it back out into the workshop.
Lucas was studying one of the engraved glass pan-
els that Rebecca had hung from the ceiling. His head
was tilted and Rebecca watched the fall of dark auburn
hair across his forehead and the hard, shadowed line
of his cheek in the candlelight, and something strange
happened to her insides. Her heart gave an erratic
thump.
She went over to her workbench and placed the
bowl carefully on the top. She had a small pot of paint
in a drawer, which she always used to make a delicate
outline on the glass before she started the engraving.
She took out her brush and edged the top off the pot,
sketching with delicate strokes. An angel with a
wicked face... She could see it in her mind’s eye, head
bent in prayer, the line of its cheek and jaw a straight
slash in the glass, giving the impression of strength
and grace. Rebecca stuck her tongue out slightly and
concentrated hard, trying to block out Lucas’s pres-
ence.
She did not succeed. She was too aware of him. He
took his time, examining all the pieces on the display
shelves with close attention. She could see his shadow
crossing the deeper barred shade on the floor, coming
closer. Despite the fact that her back was turned to
Nicola Cornick
59
him, his presence disturbed her, stirring the air, cre-
ating currents.
‘Is this all your own work?’ Lucas questioned.
Rebecca pushed a stray strand of hair away from
her flushed face. ‘The majority of the display pieces
are my uncle’s work. This was his studio up until his
death four months ago. I engraved the glass panels and
some of the other items plus the vase.’ She gestured
to the windowsill.
‘Your work is very good.’ Lucas’s voice was quiet.
‘There is so much passion in the pieces...’
Rebecca dropped her brush and bent down to re-
trieve it. Passion—and Lucas Kestrel. It was a com-
bination that made her stomach drop. Her mind filled
with images that were nothing to do with engraving
at all, images of his hands on her body, his mouth
against her skin...
‘Thank you.’ Her voice was muffled.
Lucas was standing by the window, looking at the
slender vase with the ship engraved on it. He traced
the curve of the engraving with one finger. Rebecca
repressed a shiver and bent back over her work. She
had never experienced such a strong physical reaction
to anybody in her life and it frightened her. She
wanted him gone.
He came back to the workbench and Rebecca put
the paintbrush down, eyeing him warily.
‘Have you made your choice, my lord?’
Lucas nodded. ‘I think so. I would like a set of the
slender glasses like the one that you have on the shelf
engraved with an anchor. A set of six would be per-
60
The Rake’s Mistress
fect. They are quite beautiful. I believe you must be
extremely talented, Miss Raleigh.’
There was no mistaking the sincerity in his tone,
and after a moment Rebecca gave him a shy smile.
‘Thank you,’ she said again. She did a quick mental
inventory of the contents of her storeroom. She
thought
was precious and she should be starting to sketch out
the angel patterns on the glass bowl, but she was not
at all sure that she could concentrate on her work
whilst Lucas was there. She went into the storeroom
that led off her studio. The room was cold and dark,
and the ranks of glasses, bowls and vases that were
normally stacked there to await engraving had dwin-
dled until there were only a few items left. This was
the last of her uncle’s stock and Rebecca knew that
she would have to order more glass in soon, but she
58
The Rake’s Mistress
did not have the means to pay for it yet. When the
commission for the Archangel Club was completed,
perhaps... But that was assuming that she would gain
more orders. It would be dangerous to buy more glass
when her business was so precarious. With a sigh, Re-
becca reached for the large glass rose bowl at the back
of the shelf and took it back out into the workshop.
Lucas was studying one of the engraved glass pan-
els that Rebecca had hung from the ceiling. His head
was tilted and Rebecca watched the fall of dark auburn
hair across his forehead and the hard, shadowed line
of his cheek in the candlelight, and something strange
happened to her insides. Her heart gave an erratic
thump.
She went over to her workbench and placed the
bowl carefully on the top. She had a small pot of paint
in a drawer, which she always used to make a delicate
outline on the glass before she started the engraving.
She took out her brush and edged the top off the pot,
sketching with delicate strokes. An angel with a
wicked face... She could see it in her mind’s eye, head
bent in prayer, the line of its cheek and jaw a straight
slash in the glass, giving the impression of strength
and grace. Rebecca stuck her tongue out slightly and
concentrated hard, trying to block out Lucas’s pres-
ence.
She did not succeed. She was too aware of him. He
took his time, examining all the pieces on the display
shelves with close attention. She could see his shadow
crossing the deeper barred shade on the floor, coming
closer. Despite the fact that her back was turned to
Nicola Cornick
59
him, his presence disturbed her, stirring the air, cre-
ating currents.
‘Is this all your own work?’ Lucas questioned.
Rebecca pushed a stray strand of hair away from
her flushed face. ‘The majority of the display pieces
are my uncle’s work. This was his studio up until his
death four months ago. I engraved the glass panels and
some of the other items plus the vase.’ She gestured
to the windowsill.
‘Your work is very good.’ Lucas’s voice was quiet.
‘There is so much passion in the pieces...’
Rebecca dropped her brush and bent down to re-
trieve it. Passion—and Lucas Kestrel. It was a com-
bination that made her stomach drop. Her mind filled
with images that were nothing to do with engraving
at all, images of his hands on her body, his mouth
against her skin...
‘Thank you.’ Her voice was muffled.
Lucas was standing by the window, looking at the
slender vase with the ship engraved on it. He traced
the curve of the engraving with one finger. Rebecca
repressed a shiver and bent back over her work. She
had never experienced such a strong physical reaction
to anybody in her life and it frightened her. She
wanted him gone.
He came back to the workbench and Rebecca put
the paintbrush down, eyeing him warily.
‘Have you made your choice, my lord?’
Lucas nodded. ‘I think so. I would like a set of the
slender glasses like the one that you have on the shelf
engraved with an anchor. A set of six would be per-
60
The Rake’s Mistress
fect. They are quite beautiful. I believe you must be
extremely talented, Miss Raleigh.’
There was no mistaking the sincerity in his tone,
and after a moment Rebecca gave him a shy smile.
‘Thank you,’ she said again. She did a quick mental
inventory of the contents of her storeroom. She
thought
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