When a Rogue Falls

by Caroline Linden

  “I think I can help. Climb onto the back.” The farmer nodded over his shoulder at the wagon.

  Lawrence led Zehra over, and she helped him secure the basket and the blanket farther back in the wagon before he grasped her around the waist and lifted her up. When Lawrence climbed up beside her, she curled her arm around him. As the wagon rolled into motion, she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “We’ll get you inside and get you warm, I promise.”

  “I know you will.” She tilted her head so she could place a soft kiss against his throat. In that moment, she didn’t care about the rain, didn’t care if she caught a chill.

  I could stay here with him forever.

  By the time they reached the small village, she was half frozen. Lawrence called out a thank-you to the farmer and tossed him a few shillings before he and Zehra walked toward the White Hart Inn. Zehra followed Lawrence aside, shivering as they came up to the innkeeper.

  “Is there a room available for me and my wife?” Lawrence asked.

  Zehra blinked in shock at being called Lawrence’s wife, but she knew he had to do it to avoid scandal and for that she was grateful.

  The portly gentleman chuckled. “Picnic ruined? You’re not the first. All sorts of lads and lasses came in here soaked to the bone. Lucky for you I’ve got one room left.” The man, clearly Irish by his accent, retrieved a single brass key hanging on the last peg on the wall and handed it over.

  “Thank you. Could we have two hot meals and a bath prepared?”

  “Of course.” The innkeeper whistled at a pair of young boys behind the bar. “Follow this gent and lady to room four and heat them up some water.”

  The boys scrambled like pups to get up the stairs ahead of Zehra and Lawrence. When Lawrence opened the door, the boys rushed inside and grabbed several large buckets from a cabinet in the wardrobe, then rushed back downstairs. Zehra settled into the chair by the cold fireplace, wishing for the heat of the flames. A look of chagrin fell on Lawrence’s face.

  “I’d put a few blankets on you, but it will only drench the blankets, and we need our bed to stay warm—if you want to stay the night, that is.” He watched her, as if waiting for her to deny what he’d just offered.

  She nodded, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach as he said “our bed.” They would share a bed and spend the night here, that much was clear. It was getting too late in the day, and the rain would make travel less appealing. He walked over to her chair and held out his hands. She took them, and he lifted her up to her feet, then sat down in her chair and pulled her onto his lap, curling his arms around her and pulling her close to him. He was as wet as she was, but she burrowed into him, stealing what warmth she could.

  Zehra played with the ends of his hair with her fingertips while she tucked her face against his neck. “I would like to stay here.” She wanted Lawrence all to herself and didn’t want to share him with what awaited her back in London—fears of being sent home, fears of Al-Zahrani still roaming free, fears of being alone forever. Lawrence cupped her face and leaned into her so their noses brushed. She was spellbound by his hazel eyes, watching the green glints mix with light brown.

  “There are those shadows in your eyes again. I wish I knew how to make them go away.” His breath was warm as he spoke, and she ached for him to kiss her. Their lips were but an inch away.

  Please kiss me. Chase the darkness away.

  Zehra licked her lips and Lawrence drew closer, but the door opened again as the young boys returned with hot water. She and Lawrence watched them in amusement as it took several rapid back-and-forth trips to fill the large tub. When they were done, Lawrence slipped them both a few coins, making their eyes go as round as saucers.

  Zehra smiled, and Lawrence became aware of her studying him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You are generous,” she said.

  Lawrence shrugged. “My father taught me that when you’re blessed to have much, it is both a duty and a privilege to give to those who don’t. When a farmer gives us a ride in a storm or lads work hard to carry heavy buckets, I feel honor bound to give something more back than just gratitude.”

  “I wish I could have met your father,” she said, her heart softening as she imagined Lawrence as a young boy learning kindness from him.

  His sad smile tore at her heart. “I wish you could have too. He would’ve liked you.” He gave her waist a gentle squeeze, then lifted her up and set her on her feet. Without asking, he began to unbutton her gown at the back.

  “What was your father like?” he asked.

  “He was kind and amusing. He made my mother laugh all the time.” She closed her eyes, remembering the sound of her parents’ laughter. But the sounds were dim, not as clear as they had once been. Her memories of them—the way they smiled, their voices, everything about them—had begun to fade. Yet the memory that was blazed clear into the haunting stillness of her mind was that of their lifeless bodies and the distant screams cutting through smoke.

  Zehra forced herself to focus on her father’s life, not his death, as she tried to speak.

  “He was very intelligent…and very open to the ways of the West. It’s why my mother settled in so well with him.”

  “Your mother wasn’t Persian?”

  Zehra inwardly cursed. She hadn’t meant to reveal her parentage, not yet. “No, she was English.”

  Lawrence’s hands paused on the last button of her gown, his fingers hovering at her lower back.

  “You are half English?” Surprise colored his tone.

  She turned around, shimmying out of the dress to let it drop to her feet. “Yes.” She faced him wearing nothing but her chemise and stays. “Does that…change how you feel?”

  “About you?” Lawrence asked, brows raised, his hands hovering an inch above her bare shoulders. “Not at all. I am merely glad to have one mystery solved. Now I know why you are able to speak English so well.”

  “Well, I had a good tutor,” she said, then wondered if that suggested too much.

  He grinned. “It seems you have plenty of other mysteries I need to delve into.” His eyes wandered down her body before returning to her face. The open honesty of his hunger filled her with a similar desire. He brushed away a damp strand of hair that clung to her cheek.

  “Hop in the bath and warm up. I’ll have a fire lit and track down our dinner.” Lawrence turned and walked away, leaving her cold and alone.

  Zehra sniffed, her eyes tearing up. The man was too good, too kind. And I want to show him how much it means to me. How much he means to me. Zehra unfastened her stays behind the changing screen while listening to Lawrence call for a boy to start a fire. It would be too easy to fall in love with this man. But she couldn’t seem to stop, and it was only going to break her heart.

  Chapter 10

  Lawrence looked up in surprise as he heard Zehra climb out of the bath behind the screen. She hadn’t been in there very long and he worried the water had cooled too fast.

  “Was it hot enough?” he asked.

  “Oh yes. I didn’t need to stay in very long.” Zehra came around the changing screen into view, a blanket wrapped tight around her body. She came toward him on dainty bare feet, clutching the edges of the blanket around her shoulders. He caught a glimpse of her bare skin as she moved, and his body turned taut with arousal.

  She deserves a gentleman, not a rogue. He forced himself to stay where he was. The old Lawrence would have been on his feet in an instant, sliding that blanket off her, determined to get her on her back on the nearest comfortable surface. But he wanted to be a better man for this woman. When he took Zehra to bed, he wished for it to mean something for both of them. It would be about more than simple pleasure, even if it was doomed not to last. He swallowed hard, his body fighting his mind every second as she drew close.

  “I…was drying your clothes.” He pointed to where her chemise, gown, and stockings hung over a brass grate close to the fire. It wouldn’t
be too long before they would be wearable again.

  She glanced at the spot and then continued toward him, her head tilted just enough to show the graceful slope of her neck. The distance between them closed, and time seemed to lengthen like a fine gossamer strand. He took in the sight of her and how damned lovely she truly was. From her raven-black hair to her slight upturned nose, even the hint of a scar just above her collarbone, she was perfect. Too perfect. He should have backed up, should have put the chair between them, but he couldn’t move. Her hypnotic eyes rooted him to the floor.

  Zehra came right up to him and placed a hand on his chest. He reached up to curl his fingers around her wrist, but he sucked in a breath, and she gave him a shove. He fell back into the armchair, staring up at her.

  She eased down onto his lap before he could say anything to stop her. The weight of her body was welcome, the feel of her exciting beyond words. The blanket covered his knees, and he tried to fight the urge to pull it away from her body. Every muscle was rigid with tension.

  “Zehra, you don’t have to—”

  She put a finger to his lips. “Shhh.” The curve of her lips would have knocked him onto his backside if he hadn’t already been sitting down.

  “Do you want me, Lawrence?” she asked, her eyes fixed on his mouth in a way that made him hungry beyond measure. He wanted her mouth on his body in the worst way.

  He nodded. He’d never been in a situation like this before, where he was the one being seduced. “I want you so much,” he whispered, his breath coming faster.

  “Then you will kiss me.” She trailed a fingertip down his cheek to his mouth. Her touch was light and gentle, but wherever she traced the pad of her finger, it burned his skin deliciously.

  “But I cannot take advantage of you. Not like this. I—”

  “Hush,” Zehra said, her voice even more commanding. “I do not say this out of obligation, but desire. I know my fate, and I accept what must be. But I wish to know some measure of happiness before this all ends. I want to be happy with you.” She leaned back and let the blanket drop to her waist, revealing that she was completely naked. The swell of her perfect breasts with dusky nipples were fully open to his view.

  Lord, she was lovely, but her beauty wasn’t the reason he wanted to kiss her, to make love to her. It was because she was unlike any woman he’d ever met. She was brave, intelligent, warm, passionate. For all the shyness she had shown earlier, she also possessed a strength of will he’d never seen. For the first time in his life, he wanted a woman not because of her looks, but because of who she was.

  “Lawrence?” She purred the word, a sweet, irresistible challenge for him to say no.

  As if I could resist—she’s too damned perfect, too damned wonderful.

  She curled an arm around his shoulders and leaned in, her bared breasts rubbing against his shirt.

  Bloody hell.

  He cupped her chin and leaned in the last inch between them, covering her mouth with his. She met his kiss eagerly, and he drank in her sweet taste. For a virgin, she had a natural ease of learning how to respond to his sensual offerings.

  “You seem quite comfortable with this,” he said.

  She chuckled against his lips. “I have read books on pleasure.”

  “How many of these books have you read?” He pictured her studying texts like the Kama Sutra beneath candlelight.

  Her wicked smile made his body rigid with need. “Many…”

  He nuzzled her throat. “Then perhaps you might be able to teach me a thing or two.”

  “I might indeed.”

  He banded his arms around her, holding her close. This sudden unexpected need shocked him, but he didn’t stop kissing her—couldn’t stop. She trembled against him, her entire body quivering.

  “Are you cold?” he asked. Her hair was still wet with rain, falling out of the loose style. Droplets fell onto her shoulders, and he ached to lick them away.

  “Only a little.”

  Lawrence kissed her for another long moment before he lifted her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed. She lay back, propping herself up by her elbows, and gazed up at him from beneath dark lashes. It took everything in him not to pounce on her like an inexperienced youth, fumbling with his first maid.

  “I have never lain with a man before, but I believe you need your clothes off in order to proceed.” She laughed as he practically ripped his cravat and shirt off and removed his boots.

  “Not necessarily,” he said with a chuckle. “But for it to be the most enjoyable, absolutely.” He reached for the front of his trousers and unfastened them. Zehra watched him with hungry eyes, making him feel like a god.

  I’ll show this woman every pleasure I can. I won’t think about letting her go.

  He buried the pain deep down, trying not to think about the fact that no woman had ever made him feel this way before. And perhaps never would again.

  Zehra’s heart hammered as Lawrence removed his trousers. The man was beautiful, every muscle defined far more than she’d ever expected; every part of him was toned. His skin was paler than hers, and she couldn’t help but imagine how it would look to see the two of them pressed together, skin to skin.

  She had decided to seduce him, afraid he would never make the move if she did not, yet she hadn’t realized just how excited and afraid she would be. Fear now hummed at the edges of her consciousness, but it was overpowered by the intense excitement that rippled through her as her desire climbed higher and higher.

  He climbed up on the bed, fully exposed now, and she couldn’t help but fixate on his erect shaft. No book she’d ever read had prepared her for this. A wave of panic subsided as he lay beside her, rather than on top of her. He cupped her face in his hand and kissed her, making her worries fade into nothing. He was a master of kisses—no two were the same. Each one sent her pulse skittering and her mind spinning in delicious circles.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  “Yes… How did you know?”

  Lawrence chuckled. “You had the look of a skittish horse just now. We can take this as slow as you like. I promise.” His hazel eyes twinkled as he brushed his knuckles over her cheek before he began to kiss her throat.

  “You know just what to say to make a lady feel comforted,” she confessed with a shy smile. “I wanted to be bold for you. But having never done this before, I am also afraid to make a mistake.”

  He chuckled. “A lady never makes mistakes in bed—only men can do that. All I want is for you to be yourself. There is only you and me in this bed tonight.”

  Zehra nodded, her heart filling with warmth. “Only us,” she echoed. This man was perfect—a perfect gentleman, a perfect rogue, a perfect lover.

  He nuzzled her cheek and left another lingering kiss upon her lips that sent her body and heart soaring. “Yes, only us.”

  She sucked in a breath as he reached her breasts, taking one nipple and sucking on it until it was a hardened nub. Zehra arched her back, moaning as he cupped her other breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple before gently pinching it between his fingers.

  “Lawrence!” she gasped. Zehra gripped his hair, tugging on the strands. His warm laughter made a dark, wonderful heat build inside her, and her thighs quivered.

  “Close your eyes and just feel,” he murmured as he began to kiss his way down her body.

  His powerful hands were surprisingly gentle as he pushed her thighs apart. She tensed, but he didn’t yet take her. She relaxed, closing her eyes. A second later, his mouth was on her mound, his tongue licking her folds. Zehra jolted and cried out as exquisite pleasure suddenly roared through her. Everything seemed to explode in waves of fire before she came down from the height of ecstasy.

  “Was that it?” she asked.

  He chuckled. “Merely the beginning.” Zehra opened her eyes to see him grinning wickedly at her from between her thighs. Lawrence pushed one finger into her, and she watched in amazement as he played with her, stroking, thrusting, swirli
ng. The sensations his touch evoked were beyond words. The intensity, the rippling frissons beneath her skin, like a thousand tiny bolts of lightning, left her weak and trembling. His intense eyes burned into hers as he seemed to seek out those spots that made her tremble and burn even hotter.

  “Lord, you are beautiful,” he whispered, his tone reverent.

  He was driving her mad with his touch. The pleasure that had built so fast the first time now crept up slowly on her, but it was unbearable. She needed some kind of release.

  “Please, Lawrence. You’ve teased me long enough.” She wiggled on the bed, trying to sit up, but he moved then, sliding between her thighs, his arms caging her shoulders. He gazed down at her.

  “Are you ready for me?”

  She lifted her chin and smiled up at him. “For you, I am ready.”

  Lawrence brushed his cheek against hers before pressing faint kisses on her lips. He deepened their kiss as he came into her and began to thrust.

  The feel of him pressing into her, merging with her, was unlike anything Zehra could have imagined. There was a slight moment of pain, but it faded as Lawrence pushed deeper. Seconds later his kiss turned harder, but Zehra enjoyed it. She dug her nails into his back, clawing at him as his hips moved back and forth. It was the most wondrous thing she’d ever experienced, the joy of their bodies, the heat of their skin, and the beat of her heart pulsing as pleasure rippled through her entire body.

  Stars burst across her eyes and she let out a whimper as her body went blessedly limp. Above her, Lawrence breathed her name, kissed her, and with one last thrust went still. He continued to place featherlight kisses upon her lips as she closed her eyes.

  Zehra could have died in that moment from pure contentment. She felt such exquisite bliss in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Every fear, every worry—nothing could destroy the sense of passion and safety she felt in that moment.

  “How do you feel?” he asked. His breath stirred a lock of hair close to her ear. It tickled, and she couldn’t help but laugh.