The Scent of Scandal (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 16)

by Emma V. Leech

  Looking down at Freddie now, though, the soft curves of her body caressed by the autumn sunshine, he could not find the same strength of resolve he’d had before to carry that decision through. The wickedness and evil he’d witnessed seemed a long way off in this moment, with birdsong around them and the gentle sound of the river sliding over stones further down the hill. The uneasy doubts taunted him, prickling at his mind as he considered her as a mother, carrying his child.

  A surge of longing burst through him, so intense it scared him almost to death.

  She would be a loving mother, kind and devoted and fiercely protective. He knew that, as he stared down at her, finding his chest aching with too much wanting and too many fears. For a loving mother was one thing, but what about him? What kind of father would he make?

  He closed his eyes and turned away, afraid he knew the answer to that without considering it.

  “Ross.”

  Her soft voice was an invitation and he knew it. Refusing it was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

  “Sorry, lass,” he said, not looking at her as he forced himself to his feet. “I’ve things to do after so many days lying abed. You can find yer own way back, aye?” he said, trying to sound cheerful as he turned and walked away from her.

  ***

  Freddie sighed as she watched him go, wishing she knew what he was thinking. If she’d known for certain he didn’t want her, she would have left. She had too much pride for anything else. If she’d been certain he only wanted her friendship, she would have given him that and hidden the feelings she had for him, which would only cause him embarrassment.

  Ross Moncreiffe was a seething mass of contradictions, however, and his mood swings were terribly disorientating. Sometimes the look in his eyes was so tender, and the way he treated her so unmistakably loving, that her hopes soared. Yet, the next moment he would turn his back on her, closing the door on any possibility of getting closer to him, of discovering what was in his heart.

  Well, she would have to be patient, that was all. Except that she’d visited Jenny Stewart the day before and spent a while playing with baby Angus, and Jenny had said the talk was getting fierce. Far from allowing the gossip to die down when the banns had been posted for Digby and Maggie, things had only gotten worse.

  According to Jenny, the tattle mongers had concluded her chaperone could not be trusted to do her job when she was going to the castle to be with her own betrothed. It seemed Mrs Reid had confirmed that Freddie spent much of her time there, and the presence of two eligible Englishmen who had reputations for wildness and debauchery had done her little good, either.

  Perhaps the gossip in such an out-of-the-way little place was nothing to worry about, but Freddie was not so naïve to think such talk couldn’t get further afield.

  If she wasn’t careful, she might throw herself at Ross and find herself without the man she wanted, and with no possibility of ever marrying again, as her reputation would lie in tatters. In that moment it seemed a small price, for she could not imagine a life where she shared herself, her heart, with any other but the obstinate Scot who had just walked away from her.

  Taking a deep breath, Freddie realised that if she wanted to find out where her future lay, she must do it soon, before the talk got any worse. If she played her only hand and Ross rejected her, at least she’d know where she stood. She would know in her heart that she had done everything she could to honour her uncle’s wishes, and her own desires for the future.

  Freddie looked up, listening to the eerie cry of a buzzard as it and its mate circled far above her. She didn’t want to leave this magical place, nor the people she’d come to love, and the idea of leaving Ross made her want to lie down and weep, but she would if he didn’t want her. She had to.

  For both their sakes.

  Chapter 19

  “Wherein our heroine risks it all.”

  It was another three days before Freddie could get up the courage to put her plan into action, if plan you could call it. As her information about what happened between men and women in intimacy was a little sketchy, she only hoped desire would overcome Ross and he would take control. As she stared at her reflection in the looking glass, lit by a single candle, that seemed doubtful.

  She had been invited to dinner that very evening. This had been accomplished by dropping some heavy hints which Sam, bless him, had picked up on, even though Ross had ignored them. Between them they’d made it impossible for Ross not to invite her to dine with them.

  Halfway through the evening, Freddie had been taken ill with the most dreadful megrim and Mrs Murray took her to lie down in the bedroom she’d slept in once before. Freddie was aware Mrs Murray knew she was faking, but the woman said nothing, only provided Freddie with a nightgown to sleep in and then said, in a matter-of-fact voice, that she’d inform the captain Freddie was very ill and in no condition to go home.

  Freddie had felt a swell of gratitude towards her and given her an impulsive hug.

  “Are ye sure, lass? It’s a terrible risk ye take,” Mrs Murray asked her, her eyes full of sympathy and understanding.

  “He’ll never ask me, Mrs Murray, he’ll never let me close and… and I don’t think there’s any other way to find out how he feels. Soon the gossip will become so bad that I must leave here and then…. He won’t come after me. He’ll persuade himself I’ll be better off without him, or some nonsense.”

  Mrs Murray had smiled and touched a gnarled hand to her face. “Ye ken his heart well enough, I reckon, lass. Better than he does, so ye had best explain things to him.”

  It sounded simple enough.

  Mrs Murray’s nightgown was a serviceable, cotton affair with no lace or frills, and was rather more generous in proportions than Freddie. It wasn’t a seductive look. She’d left her hair loose to fall about her shoulders, hoping that would help a little but suspecting it didn’t. Pale and wide-eyed with anxiety, she looked more like a terrified girl than a temptress who could drive a man wild at the sight of her. She’d be lucky if he didn’t laugh himself to death rather than be overcome by lust.

  It was now or never, though. It might be weeks or months before she could gain another invitation, and she doubted Ross would fall for her having another megrim the next time. He’d looked suspicious as it was when she’d fled the table, as had Sam. On top of which she’d been in a state of anxiety all day, which was making her jittery and so nervous that it could not be good for her state of mind. Best just get it over with.

  If Ross wanted her, all would be well and, if he didn’t….

  If he didn’t….

  Freddie swallowed hard and decided she’d deal with that dreadful prospect if it happened and not before.

  Candle clutched in one hand, she took a deep breath and turned the door handle, padding out into the corridor with bare feet. A chill breeze curled about her ankles, making her shiver, and she hoped she’d not catch pneumonia before she even made it to his bedroom.

  Freddie paused outside his door, shivering from both the cold and terrified anticipation. What if he was angry with her? It was dreadfully presumptuous to just walk into the privacy of his room. What if he shouted and woke the house and Sam came and saw the dreadful thing she’d done? Would he be disgusted, would she lose the man she loved and a dear friend in one fell swoop?

  “Oh, stop dithering and get on with it,” she muttered, and grasped the door handle.

  It turned without so much as a creak and Freddie crept into the room, closing the door behind her.

  With her heart thudding an uncomfortable tattoo in her chest, she made her way to the bed and set the candle down on the bedside table.

  Her heart squeezed as the warm light illuminated his face, glinting on his golden hair and those impossibly long eyelashes. She drew in a shaky breath, unsure of what to do next. She’d already entered his room without invitation, but getting into his bed while he slept seemed an arrogant assumption. As she was trembling with terror, arrogance was something she was
n’t capable of. She would have to wake him.

  “Don’t be angry,” she whispered, before trying to rouse the sleeping lion before her. “Ross,” she said, moving to push a thick wave of hair from his forehead. “Ross, wake up.”

  He jolted awake far quicker than she anticipated, those green eyes alert and focused on her.

  “What is it?” he demanded, sitting upright and looking alarmed. “What’s amiss?”

  She let out a shaky sigh, trying to smile. “Nothing’s wrong, Ross.”

  “Then what the devil—”

  He went very still as he realised her intent. With every ounce of courage she possessed, Freddie tugged at the ties which closed the nightgown down the front and wriggled a little. As it was such a voluminous article it slid from her shoulders with ease, falling to her ankles and leaving her exposed to his gaze.

  For what seemed an eternity, she simply stood there, watching him watch her. He was rigid with tension, the sense of something powerful being held tightly in place stoking her nerves until she trembled with fear and anticipation.

  “Say something,” she begged as his gaze returned to her face.

  There was a pleading look in his eyes, and he gave a slight shake of his head.

  Understanding that, if this would happen, it was all on her, Freddie took control of the situation and hoped for the best. She climbed onto the bed, over Ross, sitting herself astride his thighs and feeling somewhere between a brazen harlot and an utter fool.

  “Freddie,” he said, the word rough and scratchy. “Ye don’t know—”

  “If you’re about to say I don’t know what I’m doing, just hold your breath,” she said, feeling a little exasperated. “That is… I don’t exactly know what I’m doing, as I’ve never done this before,” she amended in a rush, just in case he thought she made a habit of such shocking behaviour. “But I know what I’m doing with you. I want this, Ross. I want you, and I know you’ll keep running away from me unless I force the issue.”

  She paused, staring at him and her hopes crumbling as he didn’t so much as blink. “If you don’t want me, however, you need only say so now, unequivocally, and I’ll go and not bother you again. You have my word. Only you said before that you did like me and want me and―”

  The breath was knocked out of her and the words smothered as Ross tugged her towards him. His hand sank into her hair, his mouth covering hers in a searing kiss that seemed born of desperation. It was as though he would devour her, as though there was no way for them to get close enough as he kicked the bedclothes down and rolled her onto her back.

  Freddie gasped at the discovery that he slept in the nude. She’d been chilled by her midnight excursion through the castle, and her cool skin leapt with shock at the fierce heat of his body against hers. For a dreadful moment, she wondered if he was feverish again, but soon realised this was the heat of a normal, virile male. She luxuriated in it, clinging to him and wriggling closer.

  “Hell’s bells, Freddie, stop that or this will be over before it’s begun,” he muttered.

  “What?” she asked, not understanding, until he slid his erection against the tender place between her thighs and she arched as pleasure spiked through her. “Oh,” she said, startled.

  She looked up at the sound of a low chuckle and met his eyes. He stared down at her, one hand coming to cup her face, his thumb stroking her cheek.

  “Hello,” she said, even though it was nonsensical, but she felt he was only now accepting she was really here, that this would happen.

  “Hello, bonnie lass,” he said, smiling a little. “Ye really are set on ruination, aren’t ye?” he said, with such a twinkle in his eyes she knew he was teasing her.

  “Nothing less will do,” she murmured.

  “Well then,” he said, his gaze moving down her body as he cupped one full breast and squeezed before lowering his head towards her. “I’d hate to disappoint ye.”

  His mouth closed over her, suckling and tugging at the nipple as Freddie gasped, her hands sinking into his hair, holding him in place. Not that he showed any intention of stopping. He lavished equal attention between both breasts until Freddie was giddy and quivering.

  He looked up and gave a wicked smile. “I remember what ye like, lass,” he said, looking smug as his hand slid down the outside of her thigh and then returned using a more intimate path. Freddie held her breath. “But do ye remember what ye have to say to me?” he asked, his fingers trailing up and down the tender flesh of her inner thigh while Freddie squirmed with anticipation.

  “Please,” she managed, opening her legs in a wanton display that made his eyes darken and that wicked smile grow wider.

  “Na, lass. That’s not it.”

  Freddie whimpered, trying to remember what he told her the last time he’d touched her so.

  “More,” she said in a rush as the answer came back to her. “More, Ross, please.”

  “So polite,” he said, grinning, a rumble of laughter in his chest. “As my fine English lassie asks so nicely, I can hardly refuse.”

  To Freddie’s consternation, his hands moved away. She opened her mouth to protest, but then Ross was moving down the bed, pushing her legs even further apart, and she squealed as he kissed her inner thigh.

  “Still want more?” he asked, the question a low growl, his breath hot and fluttering over her most private skin.

  Even that frail contact was enough to make her body tighten but surely, he couldn’t mean to….

  “Answer me, mo cridhe,” he said, pressing his mouth to the tender skin at the apex of her thighs. “I want to put my mouth on ye, to taste ye until ye tremble and cry my name. Will ye let me?”

  For a moment Freddie was too shocked to answer, but then he wanted to, and she had to trust he knew what he was doing. Besides, the decadent, wicked idea—as stunning as it was—made her insides turn to liquid heat, her chest tight with wanting.

  “Yes,” she said, quite unable to meet his eyes as she replied. “Y―”

  She didn’t get to repeat her approval of the idea as his tongue swept over her and any possibility of saying a word left her as her brain and body dissolved into a quivering mass that could do nothing but feel.

  Freddie hadn’t the slightest idea if this was a normal part of the sexual act or if Ross was depraved, she only knew she didn’t care either way. His mouth burned against her, the pleasure almost unbearable, so much so that she whimpered and writhed, and Ross was forced to hold her still. She must be depraved too, she decided, for surely any decent young lady would be horrified and appalled by such lewd act upon her person? Freddie, however, was chasing the promise of more as something hovered just out of her grasp. She arched, her body bowed and taut, holding her breath with anticipation. He’d shown her this before, this glittering peak, and she careered after it, desperate for it even as she never wanted it to end.

  Ross slid a finger inside of her and sucked gently at her tender flesh, and whatever it was she’d been waiting for erupted through her. She cried out, clutching at his hair as some strange madness overtook her, sounds torn from her throat that were nothing less than wild until the pleasure dissipated, leaving her boneless, exhausted, and stunned.

  She couldn’t move, couldn’t open her eyes. She never wanted to open her eyes again, as if she did, she’d have to face Ross and she couldn’t. Whatever must he think of her for acting so? It was impossible to believe she could ever look him in the eye again.

  In some far off part of her brain she was aware of him moving, lying down beside her, and then she was in his arms, his large hand stroking her cheek.

  “Are ye all right, mo ghràdh?” he murmured.

  “N-No,” Freddie stammered.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She refused to look at him, burying her face in his neck.

  “Do ye regret coming to me?” he asked, a wary note to his voice, the sense of something inevitable in his words.

  Freddie shook her head, but still could not look at him. Ross
let out a breath, the tension easing out of him as he put a finger below her chin and tilted her face up to his.

  There was no way she was looking him in the eye though and Freddie kept her eyes screwed shut.

  “Mo chridhe, what is it? Have I shocked ye so badly?”

  “I should think you’re the one who’s shocked,” Freddie replied, her mortification audible.

  “Me?” he said, a thread of amusement behind the words. Oh, but he had better not be laughing at her. “Why in Heaven would I be shocked?” He paused, turning her onto her back as Freddie stubbornly turned her head away. “Ye frightened yerself, eh? That it, my poor wee innocent?”

  There was a low, masculine chuckle and Freddie gasped anew as he licked the curve of her breast, one hand sliding back between her legs, finding her oversensitive flesh with a barely there touch that still made her gasp and arch beneath him.

  “Ye are so sweet and lovely, did ye know that? I love the taste of ye, and I love the sounds ye make when I give ye pleasure,” he said, the words a soft growl of sound against her skin. “I nearly came undone when ye cried out my name, clutching at my hair as ye did. God, Freddie, I’d spend an eternity on my knees for the pleasure of having ye use me like that.”

  Freddie listened to the words he spoke, not certain she could believe such an outrageous claim but he certainly sounded sincere.

  “Look at me,” he said, the command spoken with such authority that she obeyed with only the barest hesitation. “There’s nae shame here, lass. There’s only us and the pleasure we can find together. There’s nothing wrong in what pleases your body, or mine, so long as we both want it, so stop looking like the devil is coming for ye. I’ve sins enough for the both of us, he’ll take me afore he ever looks in your direction, I promise,” he added with a smile, tracing the shape of her mouth with a finger. “All right now?”