“Milburn?” Darlington’s eyes widened. “That’s the man who is chasing your skirts?”
“Yes. Do you know him?”
He nodded slowly. “Unfortunately, I do. We’ve run into each other at various clubs.” He paused as though choosing his words carefully, weighing what she ought to hear or not as the case might be. “Most of the ton see him as a delightful gentleman who could do no wrong. Others know him as I do. Some would say he and I have similar tastes in pain—not in receiving it but causing it.”
“A taste for pain?” Perdita shuddered. She’d heard Milburn had thrown his mistress out of a window. Any future with a man like that would seal her fate, but she hadn’t heard the same of Darlington. He wasn’t cruel, though she’d heard he was impossibly wicked. Even a fleeting kiss upon the hand during an introduction had been known to cause such scandals that ladies in the ballroom took flight to escape, like a flock of birds dressed in silk and tulle.
“Yes.” Darlington’s eyes were on her face again. “We require something a little different in our bed play.” He paused again, his eyes dark and fathomless as he stared at her. “But unlike him, my goal is always pleasure. A crying, hurting woman is not arousing to me. But for Milburn, it makes his blood turn to fire.”
Darlington’s bold words on such a subject made her take another step back.
“You like to cause pain in bed?” She hated how her words trembled as they escaped her. Surely whispers of this would have reached her if that were true. “This was a mistake. I should—”
He reached up and cupped her cheek when she tried to pull away, then wound a strong arm around her waist, her cloak bunching above her bottom. She had to face him now and hear whatever it was he wished to say.
“There are two types of pain, love. One is slight, expected, and leads to intense pleasure. The other is selfish and part of a need to be cruel and harsh. I prefer the former, not the latter.”
His words didn’t make any sense. Pain was pain, wasn’t it? She wrinkled her nose and prepared to argue this, but she never had the chance. He lowered his head and captured her mouth with his. Perdita was frozen in shock. The feel of his soft warm lips moving over hers was strange but increasingly delightful.
She’d never been kissed before but had often imagined how it would feel. She mimicked his mouth and gasped as he licked the seam of her lips with his tongue. The velvety feel of his tongue touching her lips was both sinful and decadent. Her knees went weak beneath her heavy skirts. She grasped his shoulders, frantic not to lose hold of him. The heat between their mouths intensified, and a heady dazed feeling began to slink through her limbs and into her lower belly. She could do this for hours...
His lips wandered from hers down to her throat just above where her cloak covered her shoulders. He placed a kiss there and then suddenly nipped her skin with his teeth. The bite sent a jolt through her, and a fierce, shocking pulse beat between her thighs. She whimpered and tried to push away, not because it hurt, but because the rush of sensations had been too much. She’d never—
“That, my love, is pain mixed with pleasure.” Darlington whispered this against the skin of her throat, still holding her fast so she could not escape. Shivers rippled down her spine, and she closed her eyes. This was frightening. He was frightening, but a part of her wanted to understand more of what he was showing her.
From the moment she’d first seen him at her mother’s garden party a few months before, she’d been intrigued by his mysteries. She wouldn’t deny it. Any decent young lady would not have allowed herself to be fascinated by such a notorious rogue, but now more than ever she wondered if perhaps she wasn’t as decent as she ought to be.
Darlington slowly released her waist, but the hand that still held her face seemed to burn her skin. He brushed his thumb over her lips, leaving a tingling sensation that trailed from her mouth down to her toes. She raised her eyes to his, her world tilting on its axis as she stared up at him. There was no going back from that kiss. She’d taken a bite of the forbidden apple, and the juices were sweet upon her lips.
“You’re still trembling,” he observed, his voice was low and gentle, but rather than soothe her, she felt excited by it.
“It is always like that?” she asked, wondering why Mother had never mentioned that lips could meet in such a blaze of fire when she’d discussed the ways men and women could be together.
Darlington touched her lips once more before dropping his hands. “Not always. Too many marriages are built upon the wrong foundations, and passions are rarely taken into account.” He turned away from her and walked over to the fire, placing one hand on the mantle as he gazed into the flames.
“If you want to play this game, Miss Darby, it must be played convincingly. Milburn won’t accept a mere declaration of our engagement. He knows me too well. He’s also not the sort to give up easily.” Darlington’s face was lit by firelight. For a moment, he looked more like Hades, the Greek god of the underworld, than a mere London rogue. Perdita was entranced by the sight of him. He was a lure she couldn’t resist. How many women had come into his room before her and fallen under his spell?
“What did you have in mind?”
“I suppose you recall what befell Alexandra Rockford in my home? A public display. That is what I mean. Milburn will need to see us in a compromising position.” He turned to face her. “And that means more than a simple kiss.”
Perdita bit her bottom lip. A simple kiss? Not to her. That kiss had been her undoing. She was wise enough to know he had changed her life in a few short minutes.
“If it helps me escape Samuel Milburn, then I agree to do whatever is necessary.” She raised her chin, earning a slow smile from him that made her blush.
“What?” she demanded as he continued to smile at her.
“I never would’ve guessed you would agree. Of all ladies, you seem to be the most...”
Perdita narrowed her eyes. “Most what?”
“Let us say I’m surprised at your defiant streak, that is all.”
Perdita stared at him challengingly. “I behave appropriately in public, a dutiful daughter and a well-bred lady, but you have no idea what sort of woman I really am.” He truly didn’t. She was a lady, well-versed in conversation, a charming hostess, a delight among the ton, but that wasn’t all she was. There were other, hidden sides of herself she dared not reveal.
Darlington’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Now that is most interesting. As your fiancé, I will make it my sacred duty to uncover these hidden facets of your character.”
She tilted her head, studying him in return. “How about your services then?” She wanted to keep this matter as businesslike between them as she could manage. He would no doubt rob her of her good sense with his kisses, but if she held fast and reminded them both this was only business and nothing more, then perhaps she might survive this devil’s bargain with her heart intact.
“I have one last question before I agree, and I demand honesty in your answer.”
She weighed the risk of losing his help against any question he might demand and then nodded. “Ask.”
“What hold does Milburn have over you that leaves you in such fear? I do not believe for a moment that your parents would force you to accept a match with him even if he dragged you down with scandal. No, there is something that makes you fear you might have no choice to accept if he pursues you.” Darlington played with the cuffs of his right-hand sleeve. “What does he hold over you, Miss Darby?”
It was the one question she didn’t want to answer, but she knew she had to.
“In private, he has claimed that he can prove my father was involved in the smuggling of goods into England and evading taxes.” She hesitated, hoping she could trust Darlington with such information.
“And is he? Guilty, I mean?”
“No! I mean, that is to say, he isn’t. But I fear the men he invests with might very well be guilty. I believe Milburn might even be working with them to frame my father, an
d unfortunately I have no way of stopping them. If I marry him, he says he will destroy the evidence, but if I do not...”
“And you believe that an engagement to me will stop him?”
“It has to,” she whispered. “If he no longer desires me, then he has no reason to go through with his threats. And you are one of the most wicked men in London. If he isn’t afraid of you and tries to take what is yours, such as a future wife, he would be mad.”
The corners of lips twitched. “That is certainly true. I wouldn’t hesitate to destroy any who dared take what is mine, especially a woman. Very well, I agree to this scheme, mad though it is.” Darlington held out one hand to her. “Shall we shake upon it?” He was quite serious, except for the wicked gleam in his eyes. A gleam that promised every moment with him would be deliciously sinful torture.
Perdita placed her palm in his. “We have an accord.”
“Agreed.” He turned her hand in his, lifting it to his lips as he kissed her knuckles.
“Good.” She hesitated, relishing the feel of his lips upon her bare fingers before she tugged her hand free of his. “My mother is hosting a Christmas party at our estate in Lothbrook. I will see to it that you are invited. Please bring your valet, and have him pack enough clothes to last through Christmas.”
Darlington nodded, but when she turned to leave, he caught her arm.
“Yes? Lord Darlington?” She eyed his hand on her arm. He did not release her, not like another man would.
“Given our new intimacy, it would please me to be called Vaughn whenever we are alone.”
“Vaughn.” She tested the sound of his given name, hating that she liked how smoothly it rolled off her tongue.
“And I expect to be introduced to Lord and Lady Lennox before the end of this year. Will that be possible?”
Perdita nodded. “Yes. I will arrange it as soon as I can.”
“Good.” He tucked her arm in his. “Let me escort you out.”
“Really, my lord—Vaughn. There’s no need.”
“I need to practice playing the part of a gentleman. I fear I may be a bit rusty.”
She remained silent as he led her down the stairs. When he opened the front door, she paused as the bitter wind cut through her. She glanced at him a moment longer before she pulled her cloak hood back up, concealing her features. She rushed to the waiting coach and climbed inside. She chanced one last peek at him through the curtains. He stood there in the doorway without a coat. She remembered the heat of his body pressed to hers and shivered, but not from the cold.
How strange to have made a bargain with Vaughn, Viscount Darlington. They were now bound together, and though they were united in their mission, she felt incredibly alone. She wished she could talk to her dear friend Alexandra, but she was the last person Perdita could confide in when it came to Vaughn.
When Vaughn had kidnapped Alex, it had been a terrifying ordeal, even after Vaughn had revealed he had no intention of harming her. When Alex learned of her supposed engagement to Vaughn, she would no doubt rush to Perdita and try to put a stop to her madness. It was not a meeting Perdita looked forward to, but she and Alex had such different views on how to handle society. Alex had hidden from it while Perdita had embraced it.
Perdita needed Vaughn’s dangerous reputation. It was the last shield she had against Samuel Milburn. It was something her dear friend would not understand because she was not the target of Milburn’s evil intent. Perdita had sold her soul to a lesser devil to protect herself from a worse one.
She prayed only that their scheme would work, or she was doomed.
Chapter Two
Vaughn Darlington watched the coach vanish into the wintry night, his smile fading as the distance between him and Perdita Darby grew. He was a tad melancholy after the whirlwind of the last half hour. Part of him was still amused by the little beauty—her tenacity, her courage, even her recklessness in approaching someone with his reputation in his bedchamber. At midnight, no less.
A proposition, she’d said. And what a proposition it had been. The run of bad luck that had burdened him for so long seemed to be taking a turn for the better, and all because of a little country girl with sound intuition when it came to the darker side of Samuel Milburn.
His smile grew grim. She thought his announced interest in her would put off Milburn, but Vaughn knew Milburn better than she did. Whatever intentions Vaughn had for her, as his mistress or his betrothed, her scheme would not likely matter to a man like Milburn. He was a true bastard, a danger to the fairer sex, and would find a way to claim what he thought was rightfully his.
Yet Vaughn hadn’t been able to tell her that whatever he did with her would not be enough to stop Milburn. Not on its own. Vaughn could only hope their little charade would give him a chance to stop whatever Milburn was planning.
He considered the larger problem. Leverage. That was what Milburn had. So long as he held this evidence regarding Miss Darby’s father, if it even existed, he would be in a position to pressure and cajole her. First, he would demand she break off her engagement, then bide his time before he held her feet to the fire to accept his own proposal. That sounded like the bastard’s style. But without that evidence, his position would crumble.
He would put his butler on it. Craig was far more than he appeared to be, and he had not always been a butler. He had his ways of making men tell the truth. If anyone could get to the bottom of this, it was him.
His thoughts turned back to Perdita and her reaction to the nip he gave her shoulder. While Vaughn was quite notorious for his penchant for pain mixed with pleasure in bed play, he never harmed his bed partners. Milburn, however, had killed his last mistress, or so it was said. The rumors had been murmured in the seediest clubs, and once Vaughn heard he’d been disgusted with the man. Without proof, there wasn’t enough to take the case to court. Milburn, as a gentleman, would escape prosecution.
The affair left a sour taste in Vaughn’s mouth, which was why he’d agreed to help Perdita. He knew Milburn and his type. The man would stop at nothing until he was married to her, and then the law would do nothing once her new husband revealed his cruel streak.
Perdita was in danger, and the only way to remedy that was to offer her the ultimate protection—his name given in marriage. It was the reason he had taken so long to give her an answer. She had no idea that what she really needed was a true wedding, not a false engagement. And ordinarily, he would have declined.
But something about Perdita had changed his mind. It had happened ever so subtly over the course of their interaction. The way she’d softened in his arms when he’d kissed her. The way she’d challenged him when he’d reminded her of what her reputation would be like at the end of her charade. The way she was a charming and yet innocent country maiden who responded with fire and bravado. She’d intrigued him even as she’d stormed into his bedchamber, where there was no chaperone to save her from his clutches. None of it had been an act. Perdita was a woman worth knowing, a woman with secrets and passions and a mind all her own. That was a woman he could marry.
A smile crept back onto his face, and this time it was one of hesitant joy.
Vaughn walked into the drawing room and approached the tray of drinks his butler had set out earlier. He poured himself a glass of brandy before he took a seat in the chair by the fire just starting to turn to embers. He sipped his drink, savoring the flavor as he contemplated the unique opportunity Perdita had presented him with tonight.
It had been so long since he had looked forward to anything. Ever since his parents had died five years past, he’d been mired in debts that were too deep to recover from on his own. No matter what he did, he seemed to be damned. He’d had to close his country estate, let go of his entire staff save for one caretaker, and reduce the staff at his London townhouse.
His only way of getting by had been to win wagers at the clubs, and even that source was running dry. Every man in every major club now knew better than to wager large stakes wh
en they found him across the gaming table. His ability to win should have helped pay off his family’s debts, but not even the most gullible lads were foolish enough to stake their fortunes against him now.
He’d become known as the Devil of London in a matter of months. The moniker hadn’t upset him as much as he thought it would at first, but it had kept men from playing even a simple game of cards with him. His friends certainly didn’t approve of his actions, and in the last few years most had abandoned him.
Of course, he’d done other things, worse things, to drive his friends away. In the fall he had approached White’s infamous betting book and found a five-thousand-pound sum wagered for publicly seducing a young woman named Alexandra Rockford, Perdita’s close friend.
Kidnapping was not at all a charming prospect to him, unless of course the lady wished to be kidnapped. He’d played that particular game more than a few times with delightful results, but kidnapping Alexandra had been...dreadful.
He indulged in a moment of self-loathing. The night he had taken Alexandra to his home to fake her ruination for the sake of a wager had left a dark stain. He hated himself far more than he ever had before, and it showed how desperate he had truly become. That loathing had deepened until it left a scar on his heart. One he doubted would ever go away.
When he found Perdita in his doorway tonight, he hadn’t expected to feel anything. Yet he had. She’d lowered her hood, and her brown hair had turned a burnished bronze in the lamplight. Her eyes, a gentle shade of brown like topaz stones, turned warm as honey. His blood had burned with desire in a way it hadn’t in a long while. If that wasn’t reason enough to marry the girl, he wasn’t sure what else would be.
He left the drawing room and sought out his butler. He found the older man in his office on the basement of the townhouse.
“Mr. Craig, I have a task for you.”
Unwrapping a Rogue: A Christmas Regency Boxset Page 2
