The Dangerous Love of a Rogue

He did not stop, his tongue danced about hers as his fingers cupped her bottom and pulled her hips more snugly to his.

A ridge of hard flesh in his trousers pressed against her abdomen, it ought to have scared her. It did not.

His grip stayed tender and gentle while the play of his tongue enchanted.

“God, Mary, you’re beautiful,” he whispered into her mouth. “Better than I imagined.”

His fingers slid up over her hips and her waist, then settled at her ribs and his thumbs brushed the first curve of her bosom.

“Mary,” he said her name again with a dizzying awe. Then he kissed her jaw and her neck, while his palms settled over her breasts, kneading her flesh through her gown.

Voices spilled from the open French doors onto the terrace. People would be dancing again soon, crowding into the ballroom and walking out on to the terrace. Her heart pounded hard, fear, excitement and bewilderment mingling.

He didn’t stop, his teeth nipped her neck while one hand left her breast and slid downwards.

Oh.

He touched between her legs, stroking inward over the material of her gown pressing it to the warm wet flesh at the juncture of her thighs.

She knew men and women joined there. That was where she craved him.

His strokes were tender, careful, like his teeth and lips on her skin, and the grasp of his hand on her breast.

Anticipation and desire climbed, as if her body sought a peek.

Her breath quickened and a sob broke from her lips as delicious sensations wove a spell in her blood.

The hum of conversation seeped from the ballroom along with a melody the orchestra played.

She should tell him to stop, but wrapped in the darkness, hidden from view, the danger had become exhilarating.

His hand clutched her breast harder and his thumb swept back and forth across her hardened nipple, while his fingers stroked forward and back in the cleft between her legs caressing her aching flesh.

Her hands clawed on his shoulder and his neck, clinging, as a whimpering sound left her lips.

He silenced her with a kiss.

She could not kiss him back, she could not think as whatever peak she raced towards approached as if she flew on a firecracker.

Goodness. Oh heavens.

She exploded, and fell from the sky, then the sensation inside her was carried on a flood of water swirling beneath her skin, reaching out to her toes and fingertips as she gripped hard at his neck and shoulder, afraid she would truly fall.

A sound of amusement, half laugh, came from his lungs, slipping into her mouth as he drew away.

He looked down at her, but she could not see his face, or his eyes. His fingers touched her face and his thumb ran back and forth across her cheekbone.

“I could make a sound and have someone find us like this.” he whispered.

“Is that what you want?” His thumb touched her lips as she breathed heavily, still a little disorientated. He was breathing heavily too and through her grip on the back of his neck, even through his neckcloth, she could feel his heart racing hard.

She was not afraid, nothing about him spoke of danger, but I do not know him at all.

“I want you,” he answered, in a hushed voice. “I want you as my wife.”

“You want my dowry.”

“I want you, and your dowry. I know your brother hates the idea of a man in need of a fortune, but he has one. It’s hardly a crime to need to marry wealth, just circumstance. But any of three dozen heiresses could bring me money. I want you, Mary.”

She smiled, knowing the darkness hid it. “You could choose a military career and work for your living.”

His thumb swept across her cheek. “I have not even enough to buy a commission. Besides would you wish to follow the drum?”

“The clergy then…”

“Me, a vicar? Are you mad? That would never work.” A scoffing rumble of amusement growled in his throat.

“I must be, I am here with you.”

His thumb and forefinger gripped her chin, then tilted it up. “Do I have your interest?”

“To be your wife?” Mary fought a desire to kiss the lips lingering over hers. “I barely know you. All I know is you are a rogue.”

This time his amusement erupted as a proper laugh which someone might hear. “Guilty as charged, I’ll not deny it, but now I’m looking for more than amusement. I did not do this with you for that. I wish to marry you. I am trying to persuade you.”

“For money….”

He shook his head. “Money, yes. I need it. I’ll not lie to you. But I want you, too, not only your fortune.” His lips brushed hers, weaving enchantment, fogging her mind.

She forced herself to cling to common-sense. “And if I had no fortune…”

He did not answer. He’d said he would not lie.

He would not choose her if she was penniless. But that was the way of life. There were three dozen men in her uncle’s ballroom without expectation of inheritance, or the desire to be shot at on a battlefield, or the inclination to preach… All of those men were in need of a fortune.

She pushed him away.

As he moved back, his hands slipped to her waist.

“I have to go. I will be missed.”

“When can I meet you again? Where? Do you ride in the morning, in Hyde Park? What if I were there at nine, would you come?”

Male voices drifted on the night air, rising in volume, they came from the terrace.

“I don’t know. I have to go.” She slipped from his hold, both physically and mentally, and hurried back across the grass to the courtyard entrance she’d come from, then returned to the ballroom via the servants’ entrance.

He was not in there. He’d gone.

Mary found her father, who commented on the length of time the maid had taken to fix her hair. It was only teasing.

She’d lied to him, deceived him and disobeyed. She had never done any of those things until the Jerseys’ garden party.

Insanity had claimed her.

What had she done?

Her heart raced, her blood running thick with the memory of their intimate caress.

“Miss Marlow, will you dance?”

She turned to face Lloyd Montague, another of her usual set.

She liked him, she liked them all, but they did not intrigue or enchant her. The only man who did that liked to make her dance with danger.

She accepted Lloyd’s arm and let him lead her into a waltz. But she longed to be outside with Lord Framlington again.

Would she go tomorrow? She could, if she took a groom.

But would it be wise?

Of course it would not. It would be anything but wise. But she wanted to go.

Where would this lead if she went? Not to marriage. Her family would never permit it. It could only lead to disgrace.

She would not.

Chapter 4

Drew sat astride his horse, waiting by the gates of Hyde Park. Miss Marlow was thirty minutes late. She was making a fool of him.

Impatience bit hard. His hands on the pommel of his saddle he shifted his weight, and as he did so, he thought of her in his hands last night. Something gripped within his stomach, something which was not lust. She had melted him. Entirely. He had been ice and now he was water… She flowed in his veins, he’d never had an encounter with a woman which was so… beautiful… so real

God his heart had thundered as hard as hers at the end, and he’d wanted to yell out with jubilation. She would have thought him insane, and of course, it would have meant they may have been caught.

His friends would think him insane too if they knew how he felt.

He’d smiled for the rest of the night, like a damned green youth who’d just discovered the sport, and he’d still been smiling this morning.

She had been all that he’d hoped of in an innocent woman.

He, Drew Framlington, had been the first to show the beautiful Miss Marlow what true pleasure could be!

Yet she had not come this morning. He was not smiling anymore.

Damn it. Waiting on a woman was not Drew’s forte. He’d rather walk away than wait. But he craved her now, he could never choose another woman now. Not after her beautiful response last night… and he needed to marry someone, he needed a bloody fortune too. He refused to go back to his former life and give pleasure to his mother’s friends for money, yet if he did not come into money soon the dun’s would have him in jail.

Devil take it, she’d shattered in his arms last night…

He’d not thought she would allow him so near so soon, but she’d been willing him on, kissing him back with an un-virginal fire.

He wished this courtship over and Miss Marlow in his bed, just as much as he wished for her damned money.

But it seemed he’d lost his touch.

After the climax he’d given her last night, and it had undoubtedly been her first, she had been shocked by it, he would have thought she’d be here begging him to marry her.

He lifted his watch from the pocket of his morning coat. Five minutes more had passed.

She’d stood him up.

Bloody hell. He would never live it down after he’d bragged to his friends that they could begin their celebrations.

Women, damn them, they were all fickle.

He saw her.

Lord. Something bit into his chest. Relief. Desperation. Then came the flood of hope on a wave of a storm of sensations even deeper than he’d experienced before.

She rode along the street outside the park, a peacock feather bouncing above her head, to match her vivid blue habit. The colour a sharp contrast to her pale skin. She sat the horse extremely well, her spine rigid and her grip on the reins firm. She looked magnificent riding the glossy jet black stallion.

A groom rode beside her, keeping guard over the Marlows’ precious package.

Drew smiled and tugged on his reins, turning his mare away from the gate and setting it to walk across the lawn.

He could not let their meeting appear planned. It must look accidental. His heart raced as though he was galloping, not walking the horse.

A clear blue sky stretched from one horizon to the other.

Drew kicked his heals and stirred his horse into a canter, giving her time to enter the park and his heartbeat a chance to recover from the sight of her.

It was not busy but there were others about.

Once he’d ridden a few hundred yards he swung back, turning on to the outer path. She was a couple of hundred yards into the park, rising and falling in a trot.

She’d seen him, he could tell. She was not looking his direction, but he somehow knew from her stance.

Riding nearer he slowed from a canter to a trot and lifted his hand as though he’d just noticed her. “Miss Marlow! Well met!”

With his raised hand he lifted his hat and bowed his head in greeting, ignoring the groom who gave him a hard glare.

“Lord Framlington!” Her voice rang with a bright false pitch as she turned her horse towards him.

She was worried. A surge of something he was not used to feeling for anyone other than his younger sister, Caro, surged through his blood – a need to reassure and protect her

He slowed to a walk as she did, then stopped, his horse facing hers.

“You are out riding early, Miss Marlow?”

“I thought to come out while it’s cooler.”

“May I ride a little way beside you?”

“If you must.”

Drew smiled, as she turned her horse. He turned his, walking the animal close beside hers.

She looked over her shoulder and signalled for the groom to stay back.

The man’s glare bored into Drew’s back.

“You are late.”

“Well, that is a woman’s right.”

“Is it?” He glanced sideward.

Her habit hugged the curve beneath her breasts, the arch of her lower back and her slender delicate arms. He was falling into the enchantment of her innocence, fast and hard. His hunger was intense. He no longer even cared that she’d kept him waiting. She had an aura which pulled him close, winding around him like a charm. She gave him life, he felt different in her company.

It was probably just her beauty affecting him…All men must be dazzled by her. She was exceptional.

“Let us race?” she said, flicking her whip and setting her animal off, not waiting for agreement.

He kicked his heels, following her into a gallop as her horse tossed divots of grass at him.

The sharp rhythm of horse’s hooves pounded on the earth, and her laughter played on the air between them.

He gained ground and pulled ahead. She did not concede but tore on towards the lake, laughing still.

When they neared the lake, he pulled up, a full half leg in front. She stopped too and her horse turned a full circle.

“What was that?” he called to her.

“Fun!” she breathed, laughter dancing in her pale eyes as he rode closer. “I was not going to come you know.”

Her groom had been left a quarter mile back, but he could see them.

“So that was why you were late then, a change of heart?”

“Not exactly. I always behave. I always do as I should. Perhaps I just wished to kick up my heels.”

“Then this is not to be taken as any indication you agree to my offer.”

“Definitely not.” She shook her head. “If my family knew I was here with you, they would—”

“Slaughter me. I know.”

“Then, you cannot, for one moment, imagine they would agree to a match. They would think I had run mad.”

“You would be mad not to.” He held her light blue gaze. “I gave you a glimpse last night of how good it could be.”

She smiled, her eyes catching the sunshine. “In your bed you mean. That says nothing of how we would get along. Marriage is more than that, my Lord. Much more. And my family would never agree. They neither like nor trust you.”

“No… Then why did you come?” Drew did not intend to seek consent. He knew he would never be approved, the only one he sought to convince was her.

She stopped her horse from prancing and her gaze locked with his.

Those eyes. Who was seducing who?

His gaze fell to her lips.

“I have no idea. I think I am insane.” Her words kicked him firmly in the chest, and a soft ache hovered in his middle, as his gaze lifted back to her eyes.

The girl was a breath of fresh air, a light summer breeze. Sunshine.

“Could you not sleep, Miss Marlow, for thinking of me?” He laughed, feeling hope swelling inside him.

She blushed slightly. She had spent the night awake then. He hoped he’d hovered in her dreams as she had in his.

“So where do we go from here?” He encouraged her to take another step towards commitment.

“Where…?” A frown marred her beautiful brow. She had genuinely not thought about his offer then, merely their embrace.

“What next?” Drew clarified.

She shrugged, a dainty little gesture on her slim shoulders. “It should be nothing.”

“But it will not be nothing, because you want more, don’t you?” She needed more persuasion. Drew leaned forward and gripped her hand as it held her reins, holding both her and the animal steady. “Where will you be tonight?”

Her gaze clung to his. Maybe her common-sense told her there should be nothing more but other parts of her, that he had sway over, bid her answer. “I am attending Lady Frobisher’s musical evening.”

Musical evenings were a rogue’s curse, he could do nothing untoward when seated in a row of chairs. The game was off then, for tonight.

Nor could he meet her again in the park, once could be deemed accidental, but twice would draw attention. Without doubt the groom would mention this encounter to someone in the house.

“Miss Marlow!” A timely call came from their rear.

Drew glanced back. Her groom had come to retrieve his damsel from the beast.

Drew let her hand go and straightened. “Tomorrow then, where?”

“I shall be at the Phillips’ supper party.” Her gaze passed over Drew’s shoulder to the groom.

“There then. They have a large glass house in the grounds, to the right of the house. I’ll meet you there at midnight.” Drew’s eldest brother had been at school with the Phillips’ son, he could obtain an invitation.

Mary nodded. She had begun an intrigue. She had definitely become foolish.

“I shall look forward to it, immensely. Until tomorrow then, Miss Marlow.” His fingers reached for hers. Instinctively she released the reins, letting him take her hand. He lifted it to his lips, turned her hand, his thumb pressing into her palm, and kissed her wrist, above her glove.

Her heart skittered, its rhythm racing violently.

When he let go a smile lifted his lips and glinted in his eyes but the gleam turned wicked as his gaze shifted to her groom before he turned his horse and rode away.

Mary ached for him. She’d wanted this for a year… to give in to longing. But she should not have agreed to an assignation; it could mean nothing more than kisses.

“Forgive me, Miss,” Evans spoke when he drew near, “you should not speak with gentlemen.”

“I shall speak with whom I wish, Evans.” She sounded like John, and she was not normally harsh with servants.

“Miss Marlow.” The man lifted his fingers to his cap and tipped it forward, “Forgive me, but it is my duty to inform your father.”

“That I met a casual acquaintance in the park by chance and spoke with him? There is hardly anything to tell, Evans.” She ought to feel guilty. She did not, not yet, perhaps later.

It was as though she no longer knew herself.

She had lied to her family, and a friend, and now she was widening the net of deceits to the servants. It would trap her in the end if she was not careful.

She turned her stallion in the direction of the park gates. I cannot continue this. Tomorrow must be the last time she spoke with him and allowed his kisses. Unless she chose ruin.

Her heartbeat flickered and her stomach somersaulted. Was she fool enough to do that?

But John had increased her dowry as a gift to broaden her choice of husbands. Why did it matter if she chose a man who needed it?

Because John thought him heartless.

She rode out of the park gates beside Evans. Lord Framlington seemed sincere. He had not hidden his need for her fortune, just said he’d chosen her over other wealthy women.

Mary knew he’d chosen her, he’d chosen her a year ago; she had not needed to hear him say it, because her heart had chosen him too, and since then they’d watched each other through the crowds.

Whether she believed him or not, though, it did not matter. John did not like him and therefore nor did her father, and therefore Lord Framlington could never be hers.

You are a fool Mary. End it tomorrow. It can go no further.

When she drew her horse up before her brother’s front door, Evans swung down from his saddle and offered his hand.

She took it, lifting her knee from the pommel of her side saddle. Then he made a step with his hands so she could descend.

Before leaving him, she said, “You need not trouble yourself to tell tales, Evans, I shall inform my father.”

Bowing he tilted his cap again. “Miss Marlow.”

Lifting the hem of her riding habit from the ground, Mary ran up the steps to the front door which a footman held open.

Her family would be in the breakfast room. She headed there, stripping off her hat and gloves and passing them to a footman on the way.

Her youngest brothers and sisters ate in the nursery, but those who could sit sensibly shared the adults table and so the breakfast room was full and noisy. She smiled at her father and mother when she entered, and then at John and Kate.

Mary loved her family. She’d never lacked a thing. She’d always felt secure. So why did the danger Lord Framlington dangled draw her away?

“Mr Finch said you were riding, Mary,” her mother said with a gentle smile, “that is unusual for you.” It was a subtle question.

“I slept poorly and the morning was so sunny I could not resist.” Mary bent and kissed her mother’s cheek, then moved to take a seat among her younger brothers and sisters.

“Had you asked I would have ridden with you,” her father stated.

“It was a momentary decision, Papa.” Her eyes focused on the spout of the coffee pot, as a footman filled her cup, a blush warming her cheeks.

“Was Hyde Park busy?” John asked from the head of the table.

Her gaze lifted and met his.

John was older than her by a decade. He behaved more like a second father than a brother. Looking away she helped herself to bread from a plate a footman held. “Not very, I saw Lord Framlington, though. He stopped and spoke.” She let the words fall as though the incident meant nothing.

“Then you must not go again without a chaperon.”

“John,” Kate spoke from the other end of the table. “Mary took a groom and I’m sure she is able to cope with Lord Framlington. She was in the open, and she is sensible.”

Mary smiled at her sister-in-law.

The footman dished up some scrambled eggs and smoked fish.

“I have no concern over Mary’s behaviour,” John answered. “It is his I worry over.”

Mary looked back at John. “Why do you dislike him?”

The question made her father look at her too. “He’s a fortune hunter.”

John’s eyebrows lifted. “And a man of his ilk, is not for you.”

“His ilk?” Mary could not help pressing. She wanted to understand. She wanted to convince her heart it was wrong.

“This is why, she needs a chaperon.” John looked at Kate. “He speaks to her, and now she is asking foolish questions.” He looked back at Mary. “What did he say to you?”

Heat burned under her skin. “Nothing beyond courtesy.”

“So he put on the charm. Do not believe any of it. It is feigned.”

Mary set down her knife and fork. “I cannot see—”

“Mary!” Her gaze passed to her father. “This is an inappropriate conversation.” He glanced at her younger sisters. “I trust you to be sensible. But I agree with your brother, no more unaccompanied rides.”

She held her father’s gaze for a moment, before looking back at John.

He nodded.

What had Lord Framlington done to be deemed such a villain? Many men needed to marry for money, Lord Framlington was right, that in itself was not a crime. He was a rogue too, but many men were that also, they lived recklessly then grew up – as John had done.

But surely if he intended marrying her his rakishness did not matter, he was not planning to seduce and desert her. Her father’s and brother’s arguments were groundless.

Mary focused on her breakfast. Perhaps John had some vendetta against Lord Framlington; he had not spoken against any other man so adamantly.

Perhaps she would ask Lord Framlington why her brother disliked him tomorrow.

The thought of meeting him made her appetite slip away and a dozen butterflies take flight in her stomach.

Chapter 5

Drew strolled into White’s, his gentleman’s club, seeking masculine company, a game of cards and conversation.

He found his friends in their usual place. Harry Webster, Mark Harper and Peter Brooke sat in the first salon.

“Fram!” Harry called. “I thought you were hunting Miss Marlow…”

Drew smiled. “She is attending a musical soiree, a place where it is impossible to pursue the chase.”

His friends laughed. Drew signalled to a footman to bring him a glass of brandy.

“How goes the seduction?” Mark asked when Drew sat beside him.

“If it were simply seduction it would be done, but as I am seeking a wife the game is more complex. Despite allowing me certain favours, Miss Marlow has given not a single indication she will agree to become my wife.”

“Favours?” Peter laughed.

“Tell,” Harry added.

Leaning back into the winged leather chair and letting his hands fall onto the arms Drew grinned at them all. “I am hardly likely to share. If all goes according to plan she will be my wife.”