Format: E-book
Read with: iBooks for iPad
Length: Novel
Genre: Historical Romance
Series: The House of Rohan, #2
Publisher: Mira
Hero: Adrian Alistair de Giverney Rohan
Heroine: Charlotte Spenser
Sensuality: 4
Date of Publication: September 1, 2010
Started On: February 26, 2014
Finished On: March 2, 2014

Reckless by Anne Stuart is book number two in the delectable House of Rohan series. Just like the ICE series that grabbed me hook, line and sinker, the House of Rohan series too has wormed its way into my heart and its characters practically embedded themselves deep into my soul. There is no escaping the mastery that Anne Stuart weaves with every single story she writes, and even her lackluster ones continue to enthrall me in a way few authors have the power to.

Reckless tells the story of the son of Francis and Elinor from the first book Ruthless. While Viscount Rohan i.e. Adrian is known for his indulging ways and debauchery, I would say he is not in the league of the likes of his father when all is said and done. Adrian is a rebel, one who refuses to do what is required of him and settle down like his mother wants him to. Adrian hardly believes that the sort of love that his father and mother share could be found for the likes of him. However, that doesn’t stop him from pursuing the delight Miss Charlotte Spenser, the 30 year old spinster presents to his senses, even when it makes him act in ways that is totally foreign to someone like him.

Charlotte knows what little she has to offer to any man, much less a man of Adrian’s caliber and pedigree. But that doesn’t stop her from wanting him, wanting his kisses on her mouth, his hands on her body and his reckless abandonment to match hers whenever they are together. Charlotte keeps telling herself that a man like Viscount Rohan could never find a plain thing like her interesting on any level, but his relentless pursuit of her to seek a pleasure too powerful to deny sends all her senses reeling and turns her safe and staid world upside down.

I would say Reckless features a story that could actually be interpreted as quite sweet compared to the rest of the novels in the series. More than the darkness that prevails the soul of Adrian, it is the evil that surrounds him that puts the edge of your seat factor to this novel, the fact that one of those closest to Adrian is actually the one who wants to take away his life and destroy the very things that he holds dear to his heart.

Accompanying the story of the fiery and sensual love affair that develops between the highly experienced Adrian and the virginal Charlotte, is the secondary romance of Evangelina, dowager countess of Whitmore, and the fascination that she develops for a Reverend Simon Pagett. Elinor’s character is one that proved to be completely riveting. Her ‘role’ in pushing Charlotte into Adrian’s arms when she had wanted just the exact opposite to happen, her past that mires her disdain towards the opposite sex and how hard she tries to prove to people otherwise, and the oh so delicious temptation to her heart, body and soul that Simon presents was an edge to Reckless that made it all that much more powerful to me. I was equally enamored by the two stories that unfolded, both entwining along the way, lending a deliciousness and depth to Reckless that makes it my favorite novel from the series up till now.

Reckless is a story that flows smoothly, the banter between both characters in the leading and secondary romances highlighting just how much the sarcastic wit that is included into Anne Stuart novels speaks to my heart. And in fact it does, sarcasm when rightly done, it speaks to my soul like poetry and at times reveals a lot more than the character thinks themselves to be revealing. And I couldn’t have asked for more in that regard in this novel. The only thing that disappointed me, just a teeny bit, was the culmination of Elinor and Simon’s love story; I would have loved to see just a tad more of their attainment of happily ever after towards the end.

I would say Reckless is a romance for everyone who loves historical romances. Even if you haven’t read book 1, there is no need to worry. This one would read like a charm as a standalone. But, the tidbits about Adrian’s parents that are intermingled into the story along the way certainly put a smile on my face and is one you would miss out on if you weren’t to read book 1. And yes, prepare yourselves for a deluge of quotes with this one. I just couldn’t help myself.

Delightfully recommended.

Final Verdict: Reckless and decadent abandonment guaranteed with at the turn of each page!

Favorite Quotes

He lifted his head again. “Open your mouth for me.”
Her eyes flew open again. “Why?”
It was the first word she’d spoken in quite a while, but her voice was husky and raw as if she’d been screaming.
“Because I want to kiss you that way.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You need to let me—”
He covered her mouth again before she could say the fateful words, and he pushed his tongue into her mouth so he could taste her fully.

And he wanted more. He’d told himself that acceptance was enough, but he’d been wrong. He wanted, needed participation.
“Kiss me back,” he whispered, his own voice hoarse.
She started to shake her head, but he caught her chin in one strong hand, holding her still. “Kiss me back,” he repeated in a rough voice.
Her eyes were huge. In the darkness her rich red hair looked black, and she looked up at him beseechingly. Don’t ask me to let you go, he thought.
“I don’t…know how.”

He stretched, slowly, luxuriantly, like a sleepy cat. A tall, beautiful, elegant, sleepy cat. “You really have no idea what you’re turning down. I’m accounted to be one of the most accomplished lovers in society. No woman has ever left my bed unsatisfied, no woman has ever refused to return for more.”
“Then why don’t you get one of them in here?”
“Because I want you.”
That silenced her. The four simple words were devastating, both to body and soul.

No, she didn’t love him. She didn’t even know him, and his reputation was disreputable. But for some reason, sane, sensible, practical Charlotte Spenser had dreamed about the lost and beautiful viscount and his elegant hands, his bewitching mouth. And he was offering her all that beauty, and the lost soul that hid behind it.
Even in the darkness she could see his smile widen, the glitter of satisfaction in his bright, brilliant eyes. “Come to bed, Charlotte Spenser,” he said softly, his voice a soft, impossible invitation.
And she did.

Sanity was overrated, his cousin had said. She had to agree, because this was madness, and she wanted it. For a brief moment in time Adrian Rohan belonged to her, and nothing could ever take that away from her.
“Open your eyes, Charlotte.” His voice was rough, and she did so, expecting to see smug satisfaction on his face.
Instead he looked dark, tortured, his blue eyes black in the shadows.

“What are you doing?” she gasped as she clutched his shoulders, the white linen loose in her fingers.
“You want the pretty words, or the truth?” he whispered, leaning forward to brush his mouth against hers. “You’re being tupped, shagged, screwed—made love to.” Each phrase was punctuated with a thrust, and he was as breathless as she was. “In fact, Charlotte, you’re being fucked. It’s about this—” he thrust hard “—and this.” Another thrust and she could feel her nipples harden in the warm night air, feel the strange heat in the pit of her stomach begin to build and burn.

He reached down, caught his erect penis in his hand and guided it to her, then thrust, a little too hard, a little too fast, but she took it with only a faint cry. She was wet and sleek and welcoming, and he moved his head, dropping it down on her shoulder as he tried to control his breathing, his fierce need. He wanted to slam into her until he spewed, he was famished, greedy, ready to explode.

She was lost, defeated. Everything ached. Not that he’d been too rough. They’d made love gently, fiercely, with tenderness and with anger. She was bruised from his hard grip, he was raked by her nails, but the only thing he’d been brutal with was her heart.

It was astonishing. It was full-mouthed, seething with lust and abandon, and for a moment she froze. She’d been kissed like that before, and she knew all the tricks of a measured response. But those clever tricks evaporated, and she closed her eyes, sinking, sinking. He kissed her with a fierce hunger that shook her to her bones, a deep, carnal kiss that was more sexual than anything she’d done in her entire life.

He lifted his mouth for a brief moment, and in the darkness of the unlit carriage she could see the glitter of his eyes. “Open your mouth for me, Charlotte,” he whispered. “I’ve been waiting hours to kiss you and I’m running out of patience.”
Her shock was enough that she did as he told her, and his kiss was full and deep, a possessive hunger she felt vibrating through her body.

And she’d said yes. He didn’t bother to hide his astonishment. Though he could…ahem…rise to the occasion. “I beg your pardon? Was that agreement I hear? How delightfully refreshing. I thought you decided to regrow your hymen and be the same prissy, starched-up female you were before I put my wicked hands on you.”

“You’re quite surprisingly resilient, Miss Spenser. I would have expected you to go into a languishing decline after my rough treatment of you.”
“Was that rough?” she asked innocently. “It perhaps lacked a bit of finesse, but you managed well enough.”
He wanted to laugh, he wanted to kiss her. “I didn’t really consider you deserved my best effort, since you had absolutely no idea what you were doing.”
“Indeed. I would hope that wasn’t your best effort. I would be sadly disappointed if society considered that to be masterful.”

“Turn around, Charlotte.”
“W-why?”
“Because I want to unlace your dress.”
“Is that strictly necessary?”
He laughed against her throat. “Yes, it’s strictly necessary. I want to see you naked. I want to lick every inch of your body. Turn around.”

He moved forward, took the hem of the chemise and whipped it over her head with one smooth movement. And a second later, the drawstring to her drawers was loosened, and they fell to her feet, and she was wearing nothing at all but her stockings.
“Oh, God,” he said, a curse, a supplication, a prayer. He pushed her up against the door, just behind her, lifted her by her legs and thrust inside her, hard.

It seemed to last forever, his rigid outpouring that seemed to scald her very heart, her shivering, clenching, mindless release, and all she could think was more, more, more, and then suddenly it was enough, and they collapsed together onto the narrow, dusty bed.

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