Waiting for a Rogue

by Marie Tremayne

  His fingertips began a cycle of slow revolutions on top of that tiny reclusive bud that would usher her into ecstasy, and her head fell back against the wall.

  “Oh, Jon.”

  “There it is, my love,” he growled in approval. “I thought I’d never hear it.”

  And now that she was in his arms, submitting willingly to his touch, he had no idea how he’d ever held back for as long as he had. His fingers kept working, the initial slow circular motion giving way to swift beats, and her breaths started coming in fits and starts.

  “I, Jonathan—You should stop, I—”

  But he didn’t, and when she climaxed against him, he could feel the luxurious spasms coursing through her, bringing every ounce of pleasure coalescing into that single place. Her cries echoed loudly through the deserted staircase, and he thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful in all his life. Although he had yet to see her sprawled naked upon his bed—something he was reminded of with another aching strain against his trousers.

  Sliding his leg from between hers, he gave her breasts a last caress, feeling the scrape of his callouses against her soft skin. Caroline gave another sharp gasp then slumped back to lean against the wall, her energy sapped for the moment.

  Drawing her bodice back up to cover her, he leaned forwards and gathered her in his arms. She gave him a hazy smile of assent and he swept her up the rest of the way, her head leaning languidly against his shoulder while they exited into the hallway near his bedchamber. It was but a matter of seconds before he had the door closed behind them, and by the time he set her carefully upon his bed, his heart was pounding in anticipation.

  “I never knew it could feel that way until our day in the study. How I thought of you . . . so often,” she added sheepishly.

  “It can feel a great deal better than that, my love,” he said hoarsely, gazing down at her from beside the bed. He beckoned to her with a hand.

  Despite the obvious heaviness in her limbs, her eyes were still bright with desire. Her body knew there was more, even if she was uncertain what that might involve, and he was going to be the one showing her. And he thanked God for that as she slid towards him on the counterpane, her skirts gathering around her to reveal a pair of very shapely calves.

  “I must say, I’m sorry we don’t have your bonnet,” he said, shaking his head regretfully as he pulled off her walking boots and rolled down her stockings. “I think it has become a new fascination of mine.”

  She pushed up on her elbows to glare at him. “You cannot be serious.”

  Leaning down, he reached under her skirts to untie her drawers. He slid them off too, then tossed them heedlessly behind him. “Perhaps you’re right. But I do have a new fascination with your hair.”

  Caroline sat up to touch the bun that was messily affixed on her head, and made a face. “My hair? How my mother hated my hair.”

  “I’ve met your mother,” he murmured, reaching around her to release the buttons on her dress. “She’s not nearly as smart as she thinks she is. I’ve never seen such a lovely shade.” He swept a hand across the bare length of back that he’d just revealed, and she gave a tiny shiver. “Or such a lovely woman.”

  She glanced up at him self-consciously. “You’ve said that before. Do you really mean it?”

  Jonathan took her hand and backed up, pulling her into a stand next to the bed. With a little shrug, her peach dress fell in waves around her feet, and the creamy skin he’d longed for was almost fully revealed to him. His body struggled with the Herculean effort to be patient as he started unhooking her corset, when she was so close already . . . so nearly undressed. But no, he would not rush this. He wanted her totally at ease.

  “You didn’t know me very well before, so I’ll forgive the question this time,” he said with a wry smile, freeing her at last to reveal her crumpled chemise. “But now that you know me better, my lady, I expect you to also know that I don’t say things unless I mean them.”

  The corset joined her other undergarments on the floor and he turned to fold her into his arms, one hand seeking her lush bottom, and one hand closing around the enticing weight of her breast. Her eyes drifted closed as she gripped his shirt, becoming enslaved to his movements once more. Jonathan caught at the point of her breast, giving it a gentle squeeze. Gripping her tighter, he pulled her hips forwards to meet his, letting her feel the ridge of his arousal through the gauzy fabric.

  “You have no idea how badly I want to be inside you,” he said in barely more than a croak.

  Eyes fluttering open, she stared at him in anticipation. “What are you waiting for?”

  He turned serious as he realized what she was saying, but before he could say anything else, Caroline reached down to undo his trousers. Knowing that she was inexperienced with men, he placed his hand over hers and tried to issue a warning.

  “You should, perhaps, allow me—”

  But she let the last button loose then, and he uttered a groan when he sprang free into her hands, long and thick and so very ready for her. Once her initial shock had passed, she stared down at him with a mixture of excitement and curiosity, and wrapped her hand carefully around him.

  “I think I have a new fascination,” she breathed, moving her hand over his length.

  Jonathan’s eyes rolled into the back of his head while she teased him with experimental degrees of pressure. His hands shot out to grip her waist, helpless to do much else with her touching him like that. “God, Caroline,” he gasped. “You should stop—”

  She must not have heard him, because her hand kept moving, up and down. Slowly. Methodically. The pleasure built until his knees were ready to buckle, and beads of sweat formed over his brow.

  “Do you like this?” she asked, shining gray eyes gazing up at him curiously.

  “Yes,” he managed shakily. “But you should stop—”

  “Why?” she asked, a wicked glint in her eye. “You didn’t stop for me earlier when I asked you to.”

  Oh, the little hellcat was going to end this too soon, and he’d waited long enough for her already. Seizing her wrist, he halted her motion and gave her a deadly serious look.

  “Because my lady, I want you on the bed. Right now.”

  Caroline’s wide-eyed expression told him she took his meaning, and with a long-held sigh of relief, he felt her fingers uncurl. Before he could exact a carnal punishment of some sort for her misbehavior, she stepped back and hopped onto the mattress, kicking her way into the middle while keeping an eye on him as he joined her.

  “You’re not even going to take off your—”

  No. He wasn’t going to take off his clothes. There was no more time for anything except silencing her with the fevered press of his mouth, while his hands shoved at her chemise. Her body squirmed in delight as he jerked it up and over her head, taking most of her hairpins with it to send her hair cascading down her back in a chestnut wave.

  And just like that, she was naked beneath him, glorious and perfect in every way. In a show of shyness, her hands flew up to cover herself, but he intercepted her attempts and swatted them away.

  “No, Caroline. I need to see you,” he pleaded.

  His eyes roamed eagerly across the charming constellations of tiny freckles, and the skin of pale ivory that perfectly complemented her enchanting hair. He would never forget what a lucky, lucky man he was.

  “One day, my love, I’ll kiss every last one of those,” he promised as she laid flat, bracing himself above her while settling his hips between her legs. “One day—”

  Jonathan guided his shaft to her, throbbing in anticipation. She grabbed fistfuls of the counterpane as he entered her slowly, sliding inside, giving her time to adjust, then giving her another inch. Then another. And another. Her breath hitched and she writhed as her body was filled and stretched in a new way, and although he wanted nothing more than to plunder her, he forced himself to pause, brushing a kiss against her forehead instead.

  “Is this all right?” he asked hu
skily.

  Caroline’s hands moved to his rear and tipped her hips up higher.

  “More,” she begged in a quivering whisper.

  He could hear the strain in her voice. Rather than sink any further, he withdrew slightly—which earned him a hiss—and started a series of shallow thrusts. Her ire cooled, though, as her pleasure increased, and as his pleasure increased, he wondered how he was going to last long enough to make this worthwhile.

  “Jonathan . . .” she whispered, her grip on him increasing. “I said more.”

  Sinking deeper, he growled at the way her body squeezed him. She was so warm, and so unbelievably tight. And there was something almost forbidden about the way he was taking her . . . a fully clothed gentleman laying claim to his lady, naked and willing beneath him. A rush of unspent lust caused him to rear back and drive into her with a loud groan of relief.

  Her pained gasp stilled him immediately. He counted backwards from ten to distract himself from the pleasure that had him so close to finding his release, until her glassy eyes fluttered open at last.

  “Forgive me, my love,” he said, knowing his moment of mindlessness had caused her pain. The last thing he’d ever want was to hurt her.

  He wasn’t certain if he’d been expecting tears, but Caroline shook her head instead, the russet waves of her hair shimmering across the bed behind her.

  “It’s fine,” she choked out. “Please, Jon—”

  And his body followed her request before he could think any better of it, with deep-seated thrusts that started making her moan. Jonathan wasn’t sure if she would be able to join him, but there was no stopping now in his quest to reach that shining pinnacle, their bodies moving in perfect timing, joining together in just the right way.

  Dear God, yes—

  Caroline was overtaken once more, and he drove even faster as he felt it. Her head tipped back, moistened lips parted in a silent plea, and his entire body went rigid with an ecstasy that flowed like honey through his veins. He shouted an oath and surged into her once, twice, three times more, then held there for her until he was certain that every well-earned tremor of bliss was over. With shaky arms, he sank to one elbow with a gasp, utterly and totally spent.

  Head hanging and eyes closed, Jonathan fought to catch his breath. He’d been used to physical labor back in America, but this was something different. Caroline could cause his heart to race with simply a look or the lingering scent of her perfume.

  Gradually, his heavy lids raised to see her covering a yawn demurely with a hand, stretching beneath him like a cat. In true Caroline fashion, she made everything seem effortless, although he knew how very hard she tried to make it appear so.

  “You never even removed your clothes, Mr. Cartwick.”

  He glanced down at his attire in amusement. “I was much too busy removing yours, my lady.”

  “Well that’s hardly fair,” she said with a tired pout.

  Jonathan couldn’t disagree. Rolling over to stand next to the bed, he stripped his linen shirt swiftly over his head, with trousers following after, then pulled down the counterpane so they could both crawl under. Once he’d rejoined her in bed, she sat up with a strange look on her face.

  “You are . . .” she said, staring at his chest “. . . magnificent.”

  His cheeks grew warm. “I-I don’t believe I’ve ever been called that before.”

  “Oh, but you are,” she breathed, laying back down beside him to press her naked body against him. Her hands delved reverently into the light brown hair that covered his chest, grazing a nipple with a fingertip, then roaming to the place where his shoulder met his bicep. “Just look at you.”

  Jonathan swallowed a gasp. It felt incredible. He tugged her upwards for a scorching, searching kiss, and when he pulled back, she was breathless again.

  “Speaking of magnificent,” he said with a smirk, “now that I’ve seen your parents, I have to wonder where your lovely hair is from.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t know it now that she is older, but Aunt Frances and I have more in common than just the gift of saucy retorts.”

  He smiled at first, then felt himself instantly sober. “You should know that Lady Frances told your father about her condition,” he said, plucking a lock of auburn hair away from her neck and smoothing it aside. “I think it’s probably why she had trouble in the dining room; it had to be upsetting for her, even if she used the information to good purpose.”

  “She had trouble last night too, and of course Father sent Beatrice and Minnie back here, but at least I still have Meggie.” Caroline gazed at him in heartfelt gratitude. “I can’t tell you how much your help meant to me, Jonathan. And to my aunt.”

  “Then put your mind at ease a little more, my darling. Lady Frances is welcome to come live at Greystone Hall, if it is what she wishes.”

  Her eyes shone with a gleam of happy tears. “Really?” she whispered.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Although, I’m still puzzled at why she kept the truth about the boundary lines a secret. This entire battle between you and me could have been avoided.”

  “Are you puzzled?” she said, nestling with him under the covers. She sighed happily against his chest. “I’d have thought you might have figured it out by now.”

  Jonathan froze, glanced down at the way they were entwined around each other, then broke out into laughter. Caroline ran a finger over his cheek, probably tracing along the dimple that sometimes appeared.

  “You know, you really are a lovely man, despite what I’ve said before.” At his soft chuckle, she added, “But you’ll have to be the one to tell her that she’s moving in with us.”

  “Why?” he asked, arching a brow.

  “Because after all her efforts to bring us together, I think she’d like to hear it from you.”

  He pulled her tighter against him, and his body stirred for her once again. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

  She tipped him an eager, but skeptical glance. “Whatever I ask?”

  “That is what I said,” he clarified.

  And that morning, he discovered that the duke’s daughter had an exceedingly long list of requests.

  Epilogue

  Caroline had waited for what felt like forever. But here at last, she and Jonathan stood atop Windham Hill, together. Holding hands, surrounded by a summer wind that smelled of lush, green grasses and wildflowers, they had been married.

  This stretch of land that had served as their initial battleground had not only become the perfect place to celebrate their love, it was a fond reminder of how far they had come. And despite her resistance to marriage, there had been no hesitation when she’d said I do. Beneath the beaming smiles of devoted friends and family, the two of them had made their vows, and Caroline knew her life would be so very different in a million wonderful ways from this day forwards.

  Daily meetings at Windham Hill had become their routine during those months of hard-fought patience. Her private escape became their refuge instead, and riding out to spend long, lazy afternoons wrapped in the arms of the American, her preferred way of passing time. Jonathan Cartwick wasn’t just the man she was destined to be with, he was as essential to her as the air she breathed. As necessary as life itself.

  Much less necessary, she’d found, was the presence of her parents. In a move that had surprised absolutely no one, they’d packed up and left shortly after she’d claimed her husband with an illicit kiss. But it was all for the best.

  “Good,” Frances had said upon being told of their latest departure, and Caroline couldn’t have agreed with her more. It was good. She was more than ready to throw off the pall of their Pemberton expectations to move on in a new and better direction.

  And today, when Jonathan had brushed aside the ivory lace veil concealing her face, they had kissed for the first time as husband and wife. That was more than good.

  “Do you like the wedding cake, my darling?”


  Roused from her thoughts, Caroline paused in mid-bite of the pineapple confection to slant her husband a droll look.

  “You know I do,” she replied with a laugh, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek. “And I’m not the only one,” she said, tipping her head at Eliza’s daughter, Rosa, who was crowing in delight at having made off with two pieces instead of one.

  Thomas caught sight of her and gave chase, but she managed to land squarely at the side of her uncle William, Lord Ashworth, who slid a protective arm around her shoulders and leveled his brother-in-law with a mock glare.

  “Help, Uncah!” she giggled, burrowing under his jacket.

  He puffed his chest out. “Not to worry. I’ll save you.”

  Of course, she was now a bit older now than when she’d initially had trouble saying Uncle, but still the name had stuck and Caroline grinned to hear it. She noticed William did not care to correct her either.

  Thomas continued towards Rosa—her squeals growing louder—until he reached her and William . . . then dropped to one knee.

  “I only wanted to see if you might share with me, little one,” he pleaded.

  Rosa did not hesitate to extend her plate, and Thomas winked at William as he claimed the extra piece of cake. It never failed to surprise Caroline at just how easily Lord Evanston had become a loving father to Rosa. It was not a role in which he’d ever professed any interest. That was, until he had fallen in love with the widowed Eliza Cartwick. His devotion to her daughter was then a natural progression of things, and was absolutely reciprocated. Rosa loved him fiercely, and the two made for a mischievous pair when at play—something that amused Eliza to no end.

  “Yes, the cake does seem rather popular,” Jonathan admitted. “Although it was the least I could do for you after you finally agreed to drink ale with me down in the village.”

  Caroline laughed softly. “Well, by my second mug, I found it had quite grown on me.”

  “A lot like how an opinionated little aristocrat grew on me, no doubt?”

  “Did you just compare me to a mug of ale?” she asked, jabbing an elbow into his ribs.