To Dare a Rogue

by Lana Williams

  The touch of her fingers on his shoulders then along the back of his neck sent his thoughts spinning. He drew her closer, his hand tightening on her waist. Before he realized what he was doing, he eased her onto his lap. His body hardened at the sensation of her soft curves against him. Could she feel how much he wanted her?

  He lifted one hand from her waist to the bottom of her breast. The longing to touch her was more than he could stand. He cupped her breast, loving the weight of it. Loving the way she arched into his hand. He ran his thumb back and forth over the tip of her breast through the silk of her gown. Unable to resist, he rang a finger along the inside of her neckline, dipping lower to touch her bare nipple, wishing for more.

  For a brief moment, he imagined lifting her gown and trailing his fingers along her thigh before touching her intimately. But despite the passion building inside him, he forced himself to simply hold her.

  “James,” she whispered as he kissed her jaw then the soft skin beneath her ear. “Oh, James.” She tilted her head to give him better access.

  Then she wrapped her arms tighter around him, shifting on his lap, which brought forth a groan from him. She pressed kisses along his cheek and on his neck, causing chaos as she went.

  He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman this much before. He could hardly think, his hands trembling with need as he held her, grasping tightly to some semblance of control.

  When her lips found his once more, he devoured her, wanting to show her how much he wanted her. How much this moment meant to him.

  A muffled bang sounded in the distance, jerking his thoughts back to the moment. He looked up along with Charlotte to see a burst of white light fill the dark sky.

  With a sigh, Charlotte tipped her head against his as they watched the fireworks together.

  Peace and contentment flowed into James, a sensation he hadn’t experienced fully since he’d left home years ago. A voice in his head told him not to become accustomed to it, that Charlotte wasn’t his, nor would she ever be.

  For the first time, he hushed it and simply enjoyed the moment. This was a memory to tuck away and pull out later to bring him comfort on a lonely night in the near future.

  Yet a voice inside him declared that wasn’t enough, and he had no idea what to do about it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Charlotte woke with a glow in her heart, a warm reminder of the fabulous evening. The warmth turned positively steamy as she thought of those moments alone with James. In truth, she’d hoped for more than kisses. Her entire body had ached for his touch. While she appreciated how he’d acted with honor, she also longed for more.

  They’d returned to the group before the fireworks had finished. If Mrs. Raybourne noted their absence, she hadn’t questioned it. Lady Barbara had based on the way she’d wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at Charlotte soon after they’d returned. Though tempted to ask her not to say anything, Charlotte decided against doing so as it might confirm what Barbara suspected and make her more inclined to remark on it.

  With a sigh, Charlotte rolled to her side and reached for her pillow, smiling as she hugged it tightly. Dare she hope his feelings for her were growing, just as hers were for him? Did he see how good they were for each other? The possibility of a future together left her breathless, her heart soaring at the dream.

  Time was of the essence given that Lord Samuelson loomed on the horizon. The moment had come to speak plainly with James and share how she felt. It was a bold move, considering the fact that he had yet to express any sort of tendre for her other than physical attraction. If only they had a few more weeks, she was fairly certain their relationship would progress naturally.

  But she couldn’t wait.

  What she felt—dare she call it love?—was special. It was worth fighting for. However, James had already fought his share of battles. This one rested on her shoulders. She knew he struggled with his memories and the aftereffects of war. But she wanted to help him. To ease his pain. To help him see how happy they could be together.

  Somehow, she had to make certain they had that chance. As quickly as possible. This very day, she would find a way to tell him how much she cared and ask that he consider a future with her. Nerves mingled with excitement at the idea of how he might react. But this was a risk worth taking.

  She rose as Mary entered the bedchamber, more than ready to begin the day.

  But the look on the maid’s face had her faltering.

  “What is it?” she asked, clenching her hand until her nails bit into her palm in an effort to brace herself.

  “Lord Wynn requests your presence in his study as soon as you’re dressed.” Mary’s pursed lips and worried eyes were enough to suggest it would not be a pleasant meeting.

  “Did he mention anything more?”

  “No, my lady.”

  “Very well.” She lifted her chin. Whatever her father had to say wouldn’t change her course.

  Within a half-hour, she was making her way slowly down the stairs toward her father’s study, her stomach tightening with dread. His gout had not improved, and based on Mary’s reaction as she’d delivered the request, Lord Wynn was not in good spirits.

  Had he somehow discovered her adventures? Or did this have something to do with Lord Samuelson?

  Charlotte drew a deep breath and braced herself as the footman opened the study door. She forced a smile, refusing to act guilty, especially when she didn't regret her actions for a moment.

  “Good morning, Father.” But her attempt at good spirits fell considerably at the sight of her mother seated before his desk. “Mother.”

  How she detested meetings such as this. Why couldn't they be the sort of family where they spoke of issues easily and honestly at the dining room table?

  A pocket of rebellion bloomed inside her as she halted before her father's desk. Her mother didn't look at her, instead gazing out the window as if her thoughts were elsewhere. Charlotte would receive no assistance from that quarter, not that she’d expected any.

  “Have a seat, Charlotte.” her father instructed. “We have much to discuss.”

  “Oh?” She did as she was bid, the knot of dread gnarling painfully.

  His somewhat cheerful tone suggested his disposition was better than she’d expected. Surely that meant he didn't know about her adventures. Then Lord Samuelson must be the topic he wished to “discuss.” The term was ironic as it did not apply to any conversations with her father.

  “I wanted to advise you that discussions between Lord Samuelson and myself are coming along well.”

  “Lord Samuelson?” Fear restricted her breath, muddling her thoughts. Not on the very day she was prepared to declare her love to James.

  “We spoke at our club yesterday at length, and we’ll soon be coming to an agreement.” He nodded as if pleased, though no smile curved his narrow lips.

  Why did she feel as if they were discussing the purchase of a horse or a plot of land rather than her hand in marriage? She couldn't help but glance at her mother once again, but she continued to stare out the window.

  “May I know the details of this agreement?” Though she doubted he’d share them, she had to ask. This was her future they were speaking about.

  “No need to bother yourself with those,” her father waved his hand as he leaned back in his chair. “The good news is that he is quite taken with you.”

  “How can that be?” Panic set in. She should’ve been bolder in her attempt to discourage him. “We haven't spoken more than a few words to each other and never about anything of substance.”

  “Nonetheless, he admires you.”

  “You mean he admires my appearance?” While she appreciated the fact that she didn't have warts on her nose or blotches on her face, beauty was only temporary.

  “The reason for his admiration is irrelevant.” Her father frowned at her, a sure sign that her questions were irritating him.

  Yet she couldn’t let the topic
go. “It makes all the difference. He doesn't know me. How can he possibly think I’ll make a good wife?”

  “You are dwelling on the wrong factors. None of that matters. He’ll know you better once you marry.”

  While she knew marriages were often arranged before the couples knew each other, she didn’t want to endure such an arrangement. Then again, she only wanted James.

  “Now then,” Lord Wynn continued, “he will officially start courting you this afternoon by calling on you. You may speak with him at length then. That should satisfy your need to share more about yourself.” Her father leaned forward, his elbows resting on his desk. “But do not think for a moment that you can do or say anything to ruin this opportunity. Do I make myself clear?”

  In the past, she would’ve agreed, albeit reluctantly. She had done all in her power to make her father and mother happy. She had been a quiet, biddable daughter, always obedient—until these last few weeks. But how could she do as he asked when he thought Lord Samuelson would make her a fine husband?

  She didn't bother to look at her mother but focused instead on her father. Surely somewhere deep inside him, he wanted her to be happy. She was his only daughter. Didn't that mean something?

  “Father, the more I consider Lord Samuelson the less I think we would make a good match.”

  “Nonsense. You just advised me that you don’t know each other well. How can you be so quick to judge?”

  “I know it in my heart. Please allow me one more Season before any decisions about my future husband are made. I will do my best to find a gentleman I admire and of whom you will also approve.” James, her heart shouted, sending wild, desperate hope spearing through her. What if she truly could convince him they belonged together?

  “Charlotte, you do not know your own mind regarding this.” Her father scowled with disbelief. “You are but a woman.”

  “I do know my mind. In fact, I am certain of it. I’m telling you that I do not want to marry Lord Samuelson.” She clenched her fists in her lap, aware of the risk she took by so clearly expressing her disagreement.

  Her father's eyes narrowed as he glared at her. “You have obviously had too much freedom if you think what you want matters. The purpose of marriage is not happiness but to solidify the line and improve the financial aspects of a family. Lord Samuelson and I will make an agreement that benefits us both.” Her father glanced away, almost as if embarrassed.

  That only puzzled her more but didn’t change her mind. “I will not marry him.”

  “What did you say?” Her father slapped his hands on the desk and jerked to his feet. He leaned over the desk, his body trembling with anger. That made two of them. “You will not speak to me in that tone. You will do as I say or face the consequences.”

  “Yes, Charlotte.” Her mother’s cold hand on her arm startled her. “You will do as your father says. He knows what is best.”

  “But—”

  “You will wait in your chamber until Lord Samuelson’s arrival.” Her father straightened, staring at her grimly. “Then you will greet him with a smile and a kind word. You will do everything in your power to make him feel welcome or life as you know it will end this very day as you’ll spend the foreseeable future locked in your bedchamber. Now go. Get out of my sight.”

  Charlotte stood, her entire body shaking with outrage. Yet the sight of her mother’s hand trembling on the arm of the chair gave her pause. A glance at her face showed fear pinching her features.

  Charlotte’s breath caught as she realized what she had done. She should’ve found a different way to protest.

  “I blame you for creating such an ungrateful daughter,” her father said as he pointed at her mother.

  “This has nothing to do with Mother,” Charlotte said, unable to remain silent.

  “Go.” Her mother’s quiet tone hurt Charlotte far more than her father’s lecture.

  Charlotte turned and walked out slowly despite the urge to run. Her heart was heavy, for she knew her mother would pay for her attempt at rebellion. What choice did she have but to go along with her father’s plan? She closed the door behind her and continued to her bedchamber, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

  If she were blessed with children, she would be a different sort of parent. One who shared affection and encouragement easily. One who spoke openly of right and wrong, of obligations and choices. But if Lord Samuelson was the father of her children, all of that might prove impossible, for she saw too much of her father in the man.

  Charlotte shivered with despair, but she still held a crumb of hope—hope that James cared for her.

  ~*~

  James paced the study of his apartment, rubbing a hand over his face. The night had been long and terrible. The images that lingered from his dreams had yet to fade.

  He eyed the crystal decanter and glasses that sat on the nearby table but knew alcohol only offered temporary numbness. But the notion of any sort of numbness was welcome. Especially after receiving the brief note from Charlotte.

  James,

  Can we meet this afternoon?

  C

  Their time together had to come to an end. He needed to find the strength to tell her that.

  The night had been one of the more miserable since his return home. His nightmare of the last terrible battle had been so real. The chaos. The darkness interspersed by flashes of light. The cannon fire that had bombarded his regiment and torn them apart. Literally. Bits and pieces of his men had flown about as one heavy blast after another struck them.

  He wasn't certain why the nightmare had been so vivid this time, but it left him with his heart pounding and in a cold sweat. The thought of reliving that again—over and over as seemed to be his destiny—made him shudder. He wasn't strong enough to face them.

  Had it been the rumbling waterfall or the fireworks bursting that had brought his memories to the surface again? Possibly. Or was it his feelings for Charlotte as well as the hope that accompanied them? He’d fallen asleep last night wondering what if...

  What if a future with her was possible?

  What if he was whole enough to be the husband she deserved?

  But the nightmare had wiped away the possibility. He was only a shell of a man and a fragile one at that. He had no business spending time with her, let alone kissing her or holding her in his arms when he could never offer marriage.

  Resolved to what must be done, he strode quickly to his desk and dipped his pen in the inkwell only to pause and press his free hand against his aching heart.

  If only he were a normal man, healthy and whole. Then perhaps he could find a way to explain his feelings to Edward and properly court Charlotte.

  But he wasn’t. After last night, he had no doubt. The passage of time hadn’t aided his condition in the least. If anything, it was worsening. He would never be a fit husband or father. How could he take care of someone else when he couldn’t take care of himself? Longing for something different was pointless.

  He tightened his hold on the pen and wrote quickly before he could change his mind.

  No. I wish you well.

  J.

  Then he folded the message, sealed it, and rang for his valet.

  ~*~

  Charlotte glanced around the ballroom, hoping to see Margaret among the guests. She desperately needed to speak with her. She was the only one who might understand. Lord Samuelson would arrive at any moment, and she wanted someone to talk to before that.

  The brief note she’d received from James had caused her heart to break. I wish you well. That was shockingly final. No explanation. No apology. While she didn’t understand the reason behind his curt reply, it hurt.

  She thought they'd had a lovely time at Vauxhall Gardens. He seemed to overcome his unease once they’d moved away from the Cascade and had even enjoyed the tightrope performance. At least what they’d seen of it.

  She might be inexperienced, but she also believed he'd enjoyed
their kisses as much as she had. What had changed his mind?

  As promised, Lord Samuelson had called on her that afternoon soon after she’d received James’ message. The conversation had been stilted and awkward. Though her mother had been present, she had made little effort to smooth over the long moments of silence. Did that mean her mother didn’t approve of Lord Samuelson either? Charlotte preferred to think that was the case rather than the possibility that she simply didn't care.

  Lord Samuelson had spoken of the weather and his horse after complimenting her on her appearance. His visit had made her all the more aware of how dim her future looked. Especially without James.

  “Lady Charlotte?”

  Charlotte turned to see Lady Barbara at her side. “Good evening,” she said, attempting a smile.

  “Isn't this a lovely ball?” Barbara looked around with interest, acting as if she had never attended one before.

  While Charlotte normally enjoyed her enthusiasm, this was not one of those times. “Yes, isn't it?” She gritted her teeth at the inane reply. Then again, it matched the responses she’d given Lord Samuelson earlier in the day. How was she going to bear such conversations for the rest of her life?

  To Charlotte’s surprise, Barbara leaned close. “We are thinking of attending another party.”

  “What sort of party?” Though she had enjoyed the first one at Madame Bernard’s, she wasn't eager to attend another. She didn't want to go anywhere unless she was with James.

  But he had made it clear he wasn’t interested.

  I wish you well. Oh, how those words hurt.

  “I don't know the exact details.” Lady Barbara giggled. “But it should be an exciting time.”

  Just then Charlotte caught sight of Lord Samuelson walking toward her. A lump filled her throat. If she was going to endure marriage with a man such as him, why shouldn't she attend another party beforehand?

  She returned her gaze to Barbara. “What time shall we meet and where?”

  Lady Barbara's eyes widened with delight. “I will find out the details and advise you.”