The Kiss of a Rogue

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  Abigail had to wonder at all of the guests from the house party departing, though if she listened closely, she could hear voices off in the distance, likely in some of the smaller parlors and various, normally unused rooms that were open for the party. That was the lovely part about Fairhaven, she supposed. Laid out in a traditional two-wing style, its four floors were massive, since the fortification it had been built upon was twice the size of any other English manor house she had seen. Plenty of room to spread out and get lost in. Or indulge in an afternoon tryst, if one was so daring.

  Which made Abigail remember the promise she had managed to elicit from Adam. The one where he had vowed to seduce her and give her a night of passion in his bed. It hadn't happened as of yet, and they were entering the final week of the house party with plenty of events, like the blasted physical competitions against Crestfield Hall, that were yet to come.

  Oh, Adam had courted her, certainly, and she had adored the attention, but it was not what she truly desired. Especially not when the letter from her mother regarding Mr. Burleigh was still hanging around her neck like a millstone. Abigail knew that it was only a matter of time before another letter, likely more insistent than the last, arrived. She had ignored the first letter. She could pretend that she had never received the small missive in the crush that was the house party. Or that she had misunderstood the letter's meaning if her mother did happen to discover that Abigail had received it. But she could not ignore a second letter. And before her future fate with a man nearly twice her age was sealed, she wanted one night with the man she desired.

  Abigail was trying to decide if she wished to venture out to the lake with the others when she heard a set of steady, heavy footfalls on the stairs. Adam. She would recognize that walk anywhere. Not even her brothers sounded so purposeful when they walked.

  She turned to see him loping down the steps as if he hadn't a care in the world. Given that his hair was still damp, she supposed he had likely come from rowing practice, though given that she had heard that both Lord Raynecourt and Mr. Greer had left the house party early that morning, she had no idea how Fairhaven could still field a team.

  "Going somewhere, my lady?" Adam asked as he came to a stop in front of her. "Or might I be able to convince you to accompany me to see the Roman ruins today? I know that we both missed out the other day, and I would very much like to see them." There was a twinkle in his eyes and while Abigail did not know what had put it there, she was glad to see it.

  "I think I could be convinced, your grace," she teased back, her worry over the letter momentarily forgotten. "Provided, of course, that I can secure a handsome escort to the site."

  Adam bowed low and Abigail couldn't help it. She giggled. She never giggled. She was decidedly not a giggler! "I think that can be arranged for such a lovely lady as yourself. We can even depart immediately if you like." He squinted in the hall's dim interior, the candles being extinguished during the day so they would not add additional heat to the already stifling house. "It will be getting even warmer soon, and I do not know about you, but I do not wish to expire from the heat."

  When Adam offered her his arm, Abigail took it and together they exited the large house and set off in the opposite direction of the lake towards the ruins. It would take about half an hour to walk there and while normally she would have preferred to take a horse, Lord Enwright had been very explicit that no horses were to be taken to the ruins while the archeological team was there. He was afraid that the powerful animals might become skittish around some of the workers more odd tools and spook, potentially damaging the site.

  Several guests had thought Enwright a bit mad about the edict, but then Adam had reminded them all at dinner the other night that a trove of ancient Celtic ceremonial objects had been lost in the Scottish Highlands the previous year when a horse at the dig site had decided that he did not like the look of a particular trowel and had broken free so that he might trample it into submission. However, a very delicate, hand-carved Celtic cross had lain between the horse and his hated object, and the animal, in his haste to dispatch the trowel, had crushed the cross beneath its massive hooves. Enwright did not wish the same harm to come to his ruins. So therefore, horses were forbidden.

  Not that Abigail minded the walk. It was simply more time to spend alone with Adam.

  As they walked, she informed him of Miss Cutwright's condition, along with the prognosis she had received from Dr. Hastings that, though the chaperone's malady did not appear serious, careful monitoring of the situation was necessary. It was also the perfect opportunity to tell him about the letter, but she did not, fearing that if she mentioned it, his gentlemanly side would take over and he would escort her back to the house. Her time - among other things - with him would end if he thought her promised to another. There would be no more kisses or caresses. And there would certainly be no night of passion.

  Instead, Abigail filled the time with stories about her childhood on board one of her father's ships and her eventual return to Plymouth at her mother's insistence. He, in turn, revealed what it was like growing up as young boy knowing that one day, he would be the duke after his father, only for that day to come far sooner than anyone had anticipated. He spoke of Sophia and how close they had been when they were younger and how, once Lord Selby had caught her eye, they had drifted apart when Adam refused to immediately sanction the man's courtship.

  To Abigail, it sounded like a lonely life, especially when Adam admitted that he did not relate to women, particularly Society women, very well and often blundered about for things to say. After all, having been all but promised to Lady Diana from the cradle had given him little opportunity to learn how to flirt, or even simply talk, with women. While he was no innocent obviously, the ways of proper women still confounded him at times and he was not afraid to admit it.

  "I am a silver-tongued devil when it comes to the unsavory sorts of females," Adam said as they arrived at the dig site. "Or so everyone, including my mother, tells me. But put me in front of a woman with a voucher to Almack's in her reticule and I completely forget myself."

  "You speak to me rather well," Abigail reminded him as she looked around for some sign of the workers Enwright had hired. "And while I do not have a voucher for Almack's, I hardly think that I am a lightskirt."

  "Our conversational skills do not count. Nor are you a typical lady. After all, you saw me mostly naked the first time we met," Adam retorted, enjoying himself immensely. Oddly enough, the conversation that morning with his mother had been quite freeing, especially now that he knew she approved of his interest in Abigail.

  "And I would like to see far more of you naked if I could." Abigail teased easily as she knocked on the door to the small shed the workers appeared to be using as a makeshift headquarters. "Hello! Is anyone here?"

  However, she received no response to her call. "Hmm. It is as if they have all gone for the day."

  "Given the heat, they just might have." Adam had become overly warm during their walk to the site and now began to strip off both his frockcoat and waistcoat. He was sweating profusely and while it was not exactly polite to disrobe in front of a lady, Abigail was already wearing far fewer clothes than he was at the moment. And even she looked exceedingly warm. "I do not think that Enwright would ask his men to toil away in this heat." He checked his pocket watch. "Especially now, when the sun is at its zenith."

  Not quite ready to give up, for she really did wish to ask the archeologist some questions about the ruins to satisfy some of her more long-standing curiosity, Abigail continued to search the area. However, she was finally forced to admit defeat when she found the men's tools all neatly put away in another, smaller shed on the far side of the ruins.

  "Well, you will not have your questions answered, I fear," Adam sighed as she kicked at a pebble with her slipper in disappointment, "but we can still have a look around."

  Abigail brightened at that. "We can, can't we?" Then to Adam's surprise, she began leading the way aro
und the site, pointing out features that he would not have even guessed were important, and noting that in many cases, what he assumed to be small bits of stone were really part of a foundation that pre-dated the Romans.

  "You are truly knowledgeable on the subject, are you not?" he asked as she pointed out a small carving on a cornerstone that was meant to represent the god Apollo. "You and Rayne would get along famously, I suspect."

  Taking a seat on a low, small wall that she assured him was built well after the Roman occupation, she shrugged. "When I was growing up onboard the ship, particularly as I began to become aware of the differences between men and women, my mother would often times send me belowboard so that I would not see the men while they were working. She was concerned that I would develop what she termed 'unseemly' ideas in my mind about the men." She paused to bite her lip. "Or they about me. Even though I did not understand at the time what she meant."

  Adam thought about the Comte De La Croix and Lord Selby and what sorts of ideas they would develop about young ladies in such loosely supervised situations. He decided they would likely not be good ones. "I can understand her fears." Oh, he did indeed.

  "At the time, I did not and thought I was being punished. So I decided that I would strike back at my mother by studying archeology and other 'manly' pursuits that had been reserved for my brothers. By that time, they were all off to school, but the old books that their tutors had used were still aboard. So I read them."

  "And you liked them," Adam guessed, knowing how attractive something like those books would have been to Abigail's quick and keen mind.

  She untied her bonnet and placed it beside her, lifting her face to the sun, heedless of the freckles she might develop because of it. "More than I had anticipated. After a time, I began to prefer staying in my cabin to read. That pleased Mama greatly, especially as I had shown no real talent for needlework or any of the feminine arts, save for a passing talent in watercolors. The pursuits other young ladies enjoyed did not appeal to me in the least."

  "No, I don't imagine they would have." In fact, Adam hated the very idea of stifling the wonderfully bright and adventurous spirit that was Abigail with hour upon hour of dull needlework. He could not imagine anything more cruel.

  Abigail, however, did not take his words as a compliment. "What?" The single word had come out a bit more harshly than she meant it to, but the sentiment was the same.

  "Easy, darling," he replied, taking her hand so that he could move closer and immediately Abigail blushed. Perhaps she was not as ready for that night of passion as she had assumed if a slight endearment made her pink up so much. "I merely meant to say that you are meant for far greater things than embroidery. You have a life and a vivacity about you that I have rarely seen before, and it would be a true pity to douse that by forcing you to waste your time on foolish endeavors such as those."

  Abigail's heart sang. No man had ever said such things to her before. Not even Papa who, she had to admit, on occasion stated that he wished she might be more feminine in order to attract a husband. "Truly?"

  "Truly." Adam reached up to stroke her cheek with his ungloved hand - for he had removed those as well along with his coat - and it was as if he was stoking the finest silk ever created when he touched her. "As I have said, I am not a man who is good with words, but Abby, please believe me when I say that you are a bright, shining star and anyone who would wish to see your light dimmed for any reason, even to fit into a role that Society deems proper, is a fool indeed."

  "Oh, Adam." Abigail felt her heart flip over in her chest and she knew that leaving his side when the house party ended would be the most difficult thing she would ever have to do. So she would not think of it now. "Thank you."

  He shifted so that he was more fully facing her. "I'm going to kiss you now."

  "You've done that before," she reminded him, though she held herself still in breathless anticipation of his kiss. Blood thrummed in her veins and for a moment, she wished that he didn't insist quite so much on being a proper gentleman with her. For if he offered to tumble her here and now, she would allow it with pleasure.

  "But this time, I intend to give you a small sample of what awaits us in a few night's time." Lord above, but Adam wanted her. Now. His cock ached and he longed to part her creamy thighs and slide into her warm and welcoming depths. But he would not. He had promised her that he would not dishonor her so, and he intended to keep that promise. "If you will allow it, of course."

  Around them, the seductive heat of the afternoon seemed to bring time to a mere crawl. Insects buzzed in the distant shrubs, providing a soothing background noise. Large, puffy white clouds drifted by overhead, casting dim passing shadows over the ground. Her entire body felt slow and languid from the heat and, like Adam, Abigail felt that she had far too many clothes on.

  "I will allow whatever you wish, Adam," she finally whispered, her voice so full of desire that she did not recognize it as her own. "I am yours to do with as you please."

  She heard his sharp, indrawn breath at her words and a part of her wondered if he might simply lay on her on the ground and take her then and there. She would not mind it, but she had hoped for more. After all, he had promised. Instead, he rose and tugged her gently along with him until he found a long, low bench that had, in Roman times, likely been an altar of some sort. It was on the tip of her tongue to protest but when he looked at her with eyes so full of heat and desire, the words died on her lips.

  "I am going to worship you, Abby," Adam whispered as he lay her gently down upon the warm stone platform. "I will not take you, but I need a taste of you before I go mad from desire. I thought I could wait, but I find that I am still too much of a rogue to deny myself any longer."

  His voice was low and silky, yet gravely at the same time, and it somehow blended in perfectly with the sounds of the afternoon. High above her, those same white puffy clouds continued to drift lazily by and she could not remember a more perfect summer day in all of her life. Or a more perfect man to spend it with.

  "As I said, Adam, I am yours," she repeated and then reached for him as he came over her, his body long and hard and hot. And oh so perfect.

  The first stroke of his fingers along her heated skin was shocking and Abigail shivered, even though the air around her was so hot and damp that she felt as if she was swimming in it. He kissed her gently at first, nibbling at her mouth and her chin, nuzzling her with his nose and tracing the curve of her jaw with his tongue. His mouth was greedy for her and she did not hold herself back, instead allowing him to taste her wherever he pleased, eager for more. Not even the hard press of his muscular chest into her softer one was enough. She wasn't certain it would ever be.

  When she arched up into him, Abigail felt Adam's fingers trail lightly down her back, along the length of her spine as if memorizing every vertebra as he went. Then those same nimble fingers were undoing her laces and loosening her bodice, exposing the very tops of her delicate breasts to the warm air. And his gaze. She felt utterly wanton. And utterly perfect at the same time.

  Because of the heat and the incident with Miss Cutwright that morning, Abigail had foregone a corset. Though her breasts were large, they were not so large that she needed constant support. If she chose her gown carefully, as he had that morning, she could get away with only her chemise and a light, clever little half-corset that she had found in Spain several years before.

  "Adam." Abigail whispered his name as if it was a prayer and when she arched up again, this time he tugged down both her bodice and chemise revealing her soft, full breasts to his hungry gaze.

  "Abby. You are so beautiful." Adam almost choked on the words, for she was even more lovely than he could have imagined. Her luscious breasts looked as if they were tipped by the ripest of raspberries and when he lowered his mouth to suckle one hard peak, they tasted just as sweet. And he wondered what he had done right in his worthless life to have the gift of this moment with her. Then, once more, he was lost to the perfection of
her and he whispered one last silent prayer of thanks.

  At the first press of his lips to her over-heated flesh, Abigail gasped before a low moan escaped her. Nothing had ever felt so good or so right. When Adam palmed her other breast and began to toy with her nipple, she knew she was in heaven. If this was only a small sampling of what was to come, she wasn't certain she could stand to wait.

  She writhed beneath him as he lapped and nipped at her now-aching breasts, the heat of the stone altar seeping into her very bones. With each swipe of Adam's tongue over her engorged nipples she whimpered and twisted, an ache beginning between her legs, one far stronger than any she had created by her own hand at night alone in her bed.

  "Are you going to come for me, darling Abby?" Adam asked as he continued to lap and play with her breasts, alternating attention between them and her mouth, where he still kissed her so deeply that their tongues danced and mated as she longed for their bodies to do. "Please say you will, my angel, for I long to see your face as you find your pleasure."

  In all of the countless times Adam had lain with women, never had he watched them as they found their release. Hell, most of the time he wasn't even certain they reached it at all. He was only certain that he had. It was all he had ever cared about. Abigail, however, was different. Today was not about him. He could take himself in hand later and be done with it - for now, anyway.

  No, today was about teaching her what was to come. She was not a green girl, but she was still an innocent and despite the fact that she had seen much of the male anatomy, something told him that her mother had made certain that Abigail was off that cursed ship long before she could become curious enough to see exactly what was between a man's legs. He had no doubt that she had some idea, but he was also fairly certain that she was not exactly prepared for the reality of a fully aroused man. No matter how much she pretended otherwise.