To Tame a Rogue

by Aston, Alexa

  Gemma headed toward her aunt and saw Lord Willows standing beside her. She veered to her right and came up behind her first dance partner, who gazed across the room trying to locate her.

  “Here I am,” she said.

  “I was searching for you, Miss Barton. I feared we would miss our dance together.”

  The music began and he led her onto the dance floor. At one point, she felt eyes boring into her and saw Lord Willows’ intent gaze upon her. Gooseflesh danced across her arms.

  Rob claimed her for the second dance and she told him she’d laid the groundwork.

  “You’ll just need to do your part. And be convincing.”

  He smiled at her fondly. “That won’t be hard. You are the dearest person in the world to me, Gem. And just think, I’ll have a wife to come home to. Let’s just hope this bloody war doesn’t go on forever.”

  She caught sight of Willows again, who moved around the edge of the room, stalking them.

  “Do you see him?” she asked softly. “No, don’t look.”

  “He’s been glaring at me the entire dance. Don’t worry, I’ll steer us away from him.”

  When the music ended, she said, “I’ll go hide in the retiring room. See you soon.”

  Gemma walked quickly and hurried inside, where only a few women were since it was still early. She played with her hair and even swiped a little color on her lips for good measure. Rob would be the one wearing it soon. She figured enough time had passed since she left the room and headed toward the library. Reaching it, she slipped inside and found Rob already there, looking a bit nervous.

  “You don’t have to kiss me on the mouth,” she assured him. “I know that would be like kissing your sister if you had one. But we must be convincing.”

  She led him to a settee and had him sit before she plopped into his lap.

  He blushed. “This is a bit awkward.”

  “That’s all right. It’s supposed to be.”

  Quickly, she kissed his cheek hard enough for some of the color to remain behind. Then Gemma hiked up her skirts to her knees and had him place a hand on one of them. She pulled a couple of pins from her hair and let a few curls go astray.

  “You look like a seductress,” Rob murmured. “And you’re the most beautiful woman here tonight, Gem.”

  “Thank you for doing this, Rob. You were the only one I could’ve asked it of.”

  He beamed at her. “What are best friends for?”

  He kissed her throat and she leaned her head back to give him better access, closing her eyes. Her gown was one that rested off her shoulders and she tugged one shoulder down slightly.

  Gemma sensed someone’s presence and whispered, “Put your hand on my breast.”

  Rob did, his lips still against her throat, where her pulse beat wildly. His hand caressed her knee and the other kneaded her breast.

  “Oh, my!” a loud voice exclaimed.

  She felt Rob’s smile against her throat and then he went into action, pushing her from his lap and leaping to his feet. He should have gone on the stage. He perfectly captured the look of an interrupted lover. Surprised. Slightly embarrassed. Then he stood stoically, as a man who faced the music.

  For her part, Gemma slid the gown back up and pushed her skirts down. She saw not only Lady Bilton there but the woman’s sister, along with Lord Bilton.

  She almost roared with laughter at the other two men who accompanied them.

  Her father . . . and Lord Willows . . .

  Gemma stood and Rob came and put an arm about her as her father rushed toward them. Not wishing to miss a word, the others followed in close pursuit.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Sir William demanded, glaring at Rob and then Gemma.

  “I love Gemma,” Rob said resolutely. “I always have, Sir William. I wanted her to know of my feelings before I went off to war.”

  “You wanted up her skirts,” her father declared angrily. “Leaving was just an excuse.”

  “Has she behaved this way with others?” Lord Willows demanded. He harrumphed. “This is not the chit for me, Barton.” The nobleman stalked away.

  “Father, I’ve never done anything like this before, much less with anyone else,” Gemma said, noting Lady Bilton and her sister hanging on every word.

  “And you won’t with anyone else,” he said, his disgust obvious. Looking at Rob, he added, “I expect you to wed my daughter before you run away to war, Smythe.”

  “I will purchase a special license tomorrow morning, Sir William. We can wed—”

  “You’ll wed tomorrow afternoon,” her father interrupted. “This will be scandalous enough as it is. The sooner you slip a wedding ring on Gemma’s finger, the better.”

  He retreated. Lady Bilton shot her a triumphant look and Gemma lowered her eyes, trying not to laugh. She waited until she sensed them gone and raised her eyes.

  Rob took her in his arms and hugged her tightly. “We did it, Gem. We did it.”

  “We most certainly did.”

  Chapter One

  Spain—September 1808

  Burke Nicholson brushed a lock of the woman’s hair from her face and then gave her a soft kiss before rising from the bed.

  “When will I see you again?” she asked, hunger for him still in her eyes.

  “Hopefully, soon,” he lied, knowing he wouldn’t be in her bed ever again.

  He’d ascertained that he’d gathered all the information he could from her. To see her again would be pointless.

  And dangerous.

  “But you know how war is, darling,” he added, raking the pad of his finger down her cheek before he retrieved his trousers.

  She watched him dress, the longing in her eyes growing. Even if he did think she might have more to tell him, Burke wouldn’t have returned. When he saw that kind of look in a woman’s eyes, he knew to cut and run. He done so ever since he was thirteen. Women had flocked to him from that time on and he’d always been known as a ladies’ man, with his lazy smile and fascinating allure. He’d never met a woman that he couldn’t find something to like about her.

  His charm appealed to both men and women. Burke knew he possessed ample charisma and was a smooth talker. He was also restless and reckless and never judged anyone. He preferred to keep his relationships on a surface level. The only ones who truly knew him were Reid and Gray. Burke insisted his friendship—and especially his love affairs—be light and easy. He never planned to wed since he was a third son and had nothing substantial to offer a woman. Too wild to enter the church, he’d pushed hard until his father bought him an army commission and he, Reid, and Gray had all gone off to war.

  His immense charm was helping gather intelligence, though, for the British government whenever he wasn’t in his major’s uniform. His excursions into town, where he bedded specifically chosen women, had resulted in valuable information.

  He finished dressing. She climbed from the bed and pressed her naked body against his as she wound her arms about his neck. He kissed her a final time and then reached behind and unlocked her fingers, lowering her arms to her side.

  “Goodbye,” he said and retreated from the room.

  Making his way down the staircase, he reached the lower level and started for the door. Voices sounded and he made a quick turn, ducking into a room just off the foyer. From there, Burke opened a window and climbed out it. He kept close to the house before hurrying to the garden and cutting through it.

  His horse awaited him where he’d left it, the young boy he’d paid to watch it standing nearby. Burke added a coin to the one he’d already given the boy and then mounted. He rode back to camp and, after handing the horse off, went straight to Reid’s tent.

  A sentry stood guard outside.

  “Is Lieutenant-Colonel Baker available to see me?”

  “Yes, Major Nicholson. He’s been expecting you.” The soldier stepped aside and Burke entered.

  Reid Baker, Marquess of Medford and future Duke of Gilford, stood next to an over
sized table, studying the layout of British forces in the area.

  “I’m back,” Burke announced, pulling his friend’s attention away.

  “How was your latest mission?”

  He shrugged. “Only slightly successful. The wife had nothing new to add. She’s lost her husband’s ear and is a dead end. The mistress, on the other hand, gave me a few worthy tidbits but I think she, too, has been bled dry.”

  Burke shared those tidbits as Reid recorded them in his neat, precise hand.

  When he finished, his friend frowned. “It’s not much but I’ll send it to headquarters.”

  “I won’t be going back to either of them,” Burke announced, wanting Reid the officer to be perfectly clear about the situation. “It would be a waste of time.”

  “Good—because I have a possible new assignment for you. Have a seat.”

  As Burke sat, he said, “It must be grave judging by the look on your face.” He sighed. “Gray should be the one here if something serious needs to be accomplished.”

  “Gray is better off in England now. You know how the war was affecting him.”

  Burke did. Danforth Gray, his friend since childhood, felt responsible for every death that occurred on the battlefield. Twice, following direct orders from above, Gray had lost a bulk of those under his command and even been wounded himself. He’d grown more despondent in the past few months, far from the happy man that they’d know all of their lives.

  He supposed Providence had intervened, sending the once-amiable Gray back to England last month to serve as guardian to his dead brother’s children. Gray would manage the holdings and estates for the new Earl of Crampton, who was a sickly, twelve-year-old boy, until Crampton reached his majority. Burke hoped living a somewhat normal life would help Gray return to his former self.

  “The assignment is well beyond the scope of what you do now, Burke.”

  Reid looked far too solemn as he spoke. Another lifelong friend of Burke’s, Reid was one of a handful of nobility fighting. He didn’t need to be here. Very few men of his rank and title entered the army but Reid felt compelled to fight for the crown. Though he was destined to become a duke upon his father’s death, Reid knew if he fell in battle that one of his two younger half-brothers could inherit the dukedom.

  “Beyond my little side excursions, where I ply my charm and seduce secrets from the enemy’s wife or lover?” Burke laughed. “That hasn’t been a hardship, my friend. But as an officer, I’ll go wherever I’m told. Tell me about this assignment I’m being offered.”

  “It’s dangerous, Burke.” Reid raked his fingers through his hair and, for the first time, Burke felt apprehensive.

  Reid met his gaze. “It involves becoming a full-time spy. You’d be out of uniform. Working to form and build a network for Britain here in Spain and possibly branching into Portugal. You’d only have sporadic contact with me.”

  “You’d be my handler.”

  “Yes,” Reid said wearily. “Lieutenant-General Sir Arthur Wellesley asked for you. Actually, the mission would involve you and one other.”

  “Who?” he asked and then ventured a guess. “Don’t tell me. The Don.”

  “Exactly.”

  Burke had nicknamed Lieutenant Robert Smythe The Don after their first meeting and he and Reid regularly referred to the young officer in that manner. The man reminded Burke of a university tutor. Smythe was much more suited to a life in academia, though Burke would admit—if pressed—that Smythe was an incredible strategist. His suggestions when the full complement of officers gathered around this table, moving pieces and plotting Britain’s next moves, were universally adhered to.

  Some resented that Smythe had no battlefield experience and landed straight on Wellington’s staff when he’d entered the army. The young lieutenant’s father, Lord Covington, worked in the War Office in London and had been responsible for his son receiving that plum assignment.

  Still, Smythe had proven himself capable—as far as working things out away from the trenches went. But Burke didn’t want to labor with him in building a complicated network.

  “Do I have a choice in the matter? Or are these direct orders?” he asked.

  “Actually, you do. Smythe’s language skills, along with his uncanny recall and knowledge of the geography of the area, make it a requirement he’s to accept.” Reid paused. “What do you think, Burke?”

  “That our proper don has every quality needed. On paper. He’s intelligent and knowledgeable in all the right areas. But he’s green when it comes to actual doing, Reid. He has no field experience. With what you’re asking us to create, one false move could get us killed. Thus, my reluctance. Even with experience, it could still be a deathtrap.”

  “I understand your reluctance. I would have the same reservations. Still, you are Wellesley’s first choice. With the option to decline. I doubt he’d give that to many men, Burke. He respects you a great deal.”

  “I respect you, too, Major Nicholson.”

  Burke turned and saw The Don standing in the entranceway. He wondered just how much Smythe had heard of their conversation.

  “Ah, Lieutenant Smythe. Come. Take a seat. I was explaining to Major Nicholson—”

  “A new operation. Yes, I heard. And I heard the major’s hesitancy in working alongside me.” Smythe sat, a grim expression on his face.

  “I would have the same hesitation regarding anyone, Smythe,” Burke said. “But this would require a delicate touch.”

  “You have that, Major. Frankly, I think we balance each other perfectly. And I’m smart enough to know when to keep my mouth shut. Your glibness is something I’ll never possess.”

  “I may be fluent in French—and charm—but don’t sell yourself short, Smythe.”

  Smythe looked to Reid. “I’m to understand that Wellesley wishes me to accept?”

  “You have no choice in the matter, Lieutenant. Yours is a direct order. All I have to do now is find the right partner to accompany you.”

  Burke had always sought adventure. Been a risk-taker. While he loved his family, none of them would really miss him if something happened to him. All his siblings were wed and had their own lives.

  He extended his hand to Smythe. “I’m game if you are.”

  Smythe took it and they shook. “I’ll have you know, Nicholson, you’ll be doing all the wooing and seducing. I’m a married man and would never be unfaithful to Gem.”

  Burke smiled. “That part of our mission will not be a problem. I look forward to handling my end of it.” He paused and added, “I just hope you don’t bloody well get us killed.”

  Chapter Two

  London—April 1809

  Gemma sat at a table in the library, various pages scattered before her. She’d already written her weekly letter to Rob and sent it to his commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Reid Baker. Rob had been vague about the reason why she was to direct her correspondence to the man but she had done as he’d requested for the past seven months. Her husband had also told her not to worry if she didn’t hear from him very often because he was engaged in a very trying situation. She worried about the hours he put in, especially since he’d left Wellesley’s staff after two years of service and been reassigned. At least Wellesley was back in favor now, the controversy regarding the Convention of Sintra now in the past. Wellesley’s star was rising once again and he’d been placed in command of all British-Portuguese forces within Portugal.

  She picked up her pencil and began playing with the code before her. After three days trying to crack it, she was no closer than when she’d first seen it. Frustration filled her. Usually, she could recognize patterns and solve them much more quickly. Disappointment filled her that she was letting down her country.

  The door opened and Richard strolled in. Her brother-in-law already looked deep into his cups and it was only half-past seven. He poured himself a drink and strolled to where she worked.

  “I see Father has you working on something for him again. What a was
te of time.”

  Left unsaid was it was a waste to give it to a woman. She bristled, nonetheless.

  Gemma pushed the pages together and stacked them, setting them aside.

  “I enjoy helping your father. It also helps England—and my husband.”

  Richard’s nose crinkled at the mention of his younger brother, angering her further. Everything about the man irritated her and had ever since she’d moved in with him and Lord Covington after her wedding almost three years ago. Richard had showed up drunk to the ceremony. She doubted he’d spent a single day sober since then.

  “Are you going to the opening ball of the Season next week?” he asked.

  “Why would you want to know?”

  “I thought we might go together.”

  Richard never wanted to go anywhere with her. They loathed the sight of one another. She couldn’t imagine where this was coming from.

  “Yes, I am going with friends,” she said, leaving it at that. What she did was her business. Not Viscount Lowell’s.

  He downed his drink and set the crystal tumbler aside and began pacing the room. Gemma knew he was up to something. Whatever it was, she wanted no part in it. She pushed her chair back and stood, picking up the papers to take with her.

  She’d barely taken a step away from the table when she was grabbed roughly from behind. The sudden action caused her to drop the pages and they scattered to the ground. Richard spun her around and clamped his hands on her shoulders. He reeked of whiskey.

  “Unhand me,” Gemma ordered, disgusted by the sight and smell of him and his odious behavior.

  Something gleamed in his eyes. “What if I said no?”

  “What would your father say?” she tossed out, seeing fear fill his face.

  She pushed hard on his chest and he stumbled back, taking her with him. Richard fell to the floor, Gemma sprawled against him. She tried to scramble away and he laughed. He rolled and was suddenly on top of her. His mouth came down hard, his tongue trying to force its way into her mouth.

  Gemma slammed her palms against his ears and he cried out. It gave her the chance she needed and she knocked him aside and got to her feet.