A Rogue to Remember

by Bowlin, Chasity

  He stepped back then, his gaze sweeping over her boldly. “I’ve pictured you just like this. A dozen different variations on the same theme and not one image produced by my feeble imagination has done you justice.”

  “Flattery—”

  “Truth,” he said, and his voice was gruff, deeper than normal, with a slight growl to it that made her shiver in response. He removed his coat and waistcoat along with his cravat. Still wearing his shirt and breeches, he climbed onto the bed with her and gathered her in his arms. “You’ve haunted my dreams from the moment I first saw you.”

  “I feel very underdressed,” she said.

  “I’ll join you soon enough,” he vowed. “Let us not tax my already tenuous control any further, shall we?”

  Willa had no idea what that truly meant. But as he kissed her, questions were forgotten. Instead, she gave herself up to the glorious sensations of the weight of him against her, of the warmth of his body as it pressed against hers. This kiss was much different from the teasing kiss they’d only just shared. This was wicked and carnal. It was all the things she’d come to associate with him, all the things she craved from him.

  She pressed closer to him, her body seeking his without any conscious thought. And he gave her what she asked for. His hands roamed over her, from her shoulders to her ribs, down to her hips, over the gentle curves of her bottom and then back up until he could cup her breasts in his hands. As he stroked the taut buds of her nipples with the pads of his thumbs, the sensation jolted through her, eliciting a tension inside her that she’d never experienced before. It was as if every muscle in her body had contracted in anticipation of what was to come next.

  He did not disappoint. His mouth left hers, coasting along her jaw, then down the column of her throat. Then his lips drifted lower, over the arc of her collar bone and to the upper swells of her breasts. She craved his touch there, the heat of his mouth upon her. The tip of his tongue touched that taut bud of her nipple through the thin fabric of her chemise. A startled gasp erupted from her as his mouth closed over her. The heat and pull of it amplified the tension inside her. There was heat pooling low in her belly, spreading outward to that forbidden place between her thighs.

  It seemed as if he’d read her thoughts. With his knee, he parted her thighs and his hand slipped beneath her chemise, his fingertips trailing over her skin in a way that raised gooseflesh in their wake. When he touched her intimately, his fingers brushing the hair that shielded her sex, she gasped. Then he was sliding one finger inside her, touching her in a place she had not known existed. She closed her eyes at the intensity of the sensations, at the sweep of pleasure as it coursed through her. His touch became more insistent, the pleasure climbing higher with each stroke of his skilled fingers.

  “Douglas,” she breathed. “What are you doing to me?”

  “I told you I would introduce you to pleasure, Wilhelmina, and I mean to do so… you must simply give yourself up to it,” he whispered hotly against her ear.

  She could do nothing else. Her body seemed to no longer be her own. Her hips arched upward against his hand, seeking, demanding. And he gave, answering her desperate cries.

  It happened suddenly. The tension inside her broke, waves of it spiraling through her as she shuddered against him.

  *

  Devil was enraptured by her. There was nothing so beautiful as a woman in the throes of passion, but to see Wilhelmina in the full flower of pleasure was something else entirely. Every breathless cry, every shudder of her delicate body, the slick heat of her sex as he stroked her tender flesh—his own desires were beyond his control. He needed to claim her, to possess her, and to know that she was his in every way.

  With his knee, he pressed her thighs further apart and moved between them. Desperate to feel the heat of her closing around him, he fumbled with the buttons of his breeches, finally managing to free them. Aligning his aching member with entrance, he pressed in slowly, easing his way until he felt the fragile barrier of her innocence. It was an easy enough thing to stop then. The idea of causing her pain, even at the expense of his own pleasure, was enough to halt him.

  “You won’t like this part, I’m afraid,” he said softly.

  “Will I like what comes after?” she asked, still breathless.

  “I certainly hope so… there’s always a bit of pain for women their first time. But it’s quick, I’m told.”

  She cocked one eyebrow. “You’ve never been with a woman who was a virgin?”

  “I’ve never been with a woman who wasn’t one apoplectic fit from widowhood,” he reminded her. “Old, fat husbands were the favorite accessory of my past paramours.”

  She laughed softly, and that movement quickly erased all humor from the situation. He was gritting his teeth, fighting the urge to simply drive into her.

  “If something is unpleasant,” she said, “It’s best to get it done quickly.”

  With that, Devil withdrew from her almost entirely, only to surge forward again, breeching the barrier of her innocence. It robbed him of breath. The pleasure of being buried inside her, the silken heat of her sheath gripping him so intimately, was more than he could withstand. He gripped her hips, urging her to be still, striving for some semblance of the control and finesse he’d always prided himself on. Somehow, he managed to lay claim to a shred of it. When she’d ceased squirming, he asked, “Does it still hurt?”

  “No,” she replied. “But you may be wrong about me liking this part of things.”

  “Defer judgement, darling girl, defer judgement,” he whispered encouragingly. Determined to bring her pleasure, to erase even the slightest memory of pain, he began to move within her. Slowly at first, building a gentle, steady rhythm that very soon she began to match. As her hips moved against him, meeting his thrusts, he increased the speed and intensity. He knew the moment she gave herself up to it. Her knees lifted higher, and she locked her ankles just above his buttocks, holding him more tightly to her. Broken whimpers and sobs escaped her parted lips, and they were like a symphony to his ears.

  He didn’t stop and, despite the cost, he refused to succumb to his own need for release until he felt the first shuddering contraction within her. Only then did he let go and push deep one last time, spilling his essence deep within her.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Joseph Colton entered The Cock and Crow Inn. His mood was black and foul, and he was spoiling for a fight. There was no sign of Jim, and he was quickly beginning to realize that Alaric West had pulled the wool over his eyes.

  “Joseph,” the serving girl said. “There’s a letter for you.”

  “Can’t read, now can I?” he sneered.

  “If you’d toss me a coin, I’d read it to you. If you’d toss me two coins, I’d read it to you while I was naked,” she replied saucily.

  Since he strongly suspected that West was long gone and the money owed him was gone with him, Joseph was in no mood for her teasing and flirting. Reaching out, he grasped her wrist and pulled her close to him. “Read me the damned letter and save your games for those’ve got the coin to spare!”

  The girl swallowed convulsively, clearly intimidated by his display of temper. Normally, it was Jim who set the ladies running in fright, but in his current mood, he simply didn’t care. He let go of her arm abruptly and she stumbled back. Still, she clutched the slip of paper in her hand like it was a lifeline. After a moment, and a deep breath, she broke the seal and read the note.

  “It’s from Mr. West,” she said. “It’s about your brother.”

  “What’s it say?” he demanded gruffly.

  She shook her head and began to cry. “I don’t want to say! You’ll hit me!”

  “I will if you don’t answer my questions! Tell me what it says!”

  She glanced back at the note. “It says that it was Lord Deveril who killed your brother… says that Jim were dead when you got back there to the boneyard, and he kept you from going inside and seeing what become of him.”


  “That bastard… I’ll see him dead.”

  “Mr. West?”

  “Aye, him. Him and Lord Deveril… and his governess. She’s as much a party to it as the lot of them,” Joseph murmured. Without a backward glance, he left the shabby and disreputable inn. He made one stop, at a shop near the corner where he’d pawned an item he now required. With the weapon retrieved, he cut through back alleys and side streets until he once more found himself emerging onto the paved and artfully maintained streets of Mayfair. And then he set about doing what he was good at and so often paid for—he watched and waited.

  *

  Willa walked down to the breakfast room with Marina holding on to her hand. When she’d risen, Lord Deveril—Douglas—had already been gone. Somewhat disappointed by that, she’d pasted on a smile nonetheless and tolerated the maid’s fussing and numerous blushes as they’d gone through her morning toilette. Afterward, she’d fetched Marina from the nursery. It was as much for her benefit as for the child’s. She needed something to occupy her thoughts that was not her husband and the fact that she’d behaved like a wanton hussy with him the night before. And the morning after.

  She could feel a blush heating her cheeks as she entered the breakfast room. Immediately, she halted. Devil was seated at the table perusing the news sheets with a plate piled high with food before him.

  “Good morning,” he said with a sly and knowing smile.

  “I thought you’d gone,” Willa said by way of response as she walked to the sideboard and began filling plates for herself and Marina. The child had reluctantly disengaged her hand from Willa’s own, but she remained close by her side.

  “I had an early meeting with my solicitor to take care of some things,” he answered. “But I found myself in rather a hurry to return. I find that there is no place I’d rather be than here in my home with the two of you.”

  Willa felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “And what business had you out so early this morning that it could not have waited until a more reasonable hour?”

  “You mean after I was up so very late last night?” he asked, the picture of innocence.

  She graced him with an arch look as she placed the plates on the table and then helped Marina onto a chair. “Behave.”

  “I shall, but the manner in which I do may set you to blush, my pretty wife,” he said with a wicked grin. “But in answer to your question, I had to see my solicitor to make arrangements for you. It dawned on me yesterday, when things could have gone so terribly wrong in the park, that I had not made the proper preparations for you or for Marina, that if I were to meet an untimely end, you could well be destitute.”

  “Don’t speak of such things!”

  “My untimely end or your being destitute?” he teased.

  “Either,” she snapped. “And I wouldn’t be destitute. I’m more than capable of providing for myself.”

  “Well, now it’s a moot point. A generous settlement has been provided for the both of you in the event that I should, heaven forbid, meet an untimely demise,” he replied. “And since we have most of the ugliness behind us and no longer need to live like prisoners here, I thought that you might wish to pay a call on Miss Darrow today. After breakfast?”

  Willa’s heart thumped painfully at the thought of it. Would Effie be terribly disappointed in her? She didn’t know. The agreement that they’d reached before, of a fake engagement with a chaperone, had been sorely tested almost from the outset. There would have been no way of predicting what Alaric West would do or that he would place her in such a compromising position that marriage was the only possible outcome. “I suppose we should.”

  “I hardly think it something dreadful,” he chided. “I daresay, your friend will offer you felicitations, and if she has any recriminations at all, it will be that she did not get to attend the service.”

  “I do hope so,” Willa replied. “I’d hate to think I have disappointed Effie in any way.”

  “By marrying me?” he asked with a frown.

  “No. By getting into such compromising situations that marriage was the only option… Effie is very egalitarian in her thinking, Douglas, and not the judgmental sort at all. That’s why so many gentlemen are willing to place their daughters in her school, because no one tries to guilt, shame, or extort them!”

  “Then we shall face her together and any censure she may have to offer, regardless of which one of us it may be heaped upon.”

  Breakfast continued in the same vein. The talked and laughed, teased. Marina even smiled shyly at her uncle a time or two. As they finished their meal, Willa felt Marina tugging at her hand. Leaning down, until her ear was level with Marina’s cupped hand she listened to the little girl’s loudly whispered secret. “He didn’t give you a ring. You always get a ring when you get married. Mama said.”

  “Did your Mama have a ring, Marina?” Devil asked.

  The little girl looked back over her shoulder at him and nodded.

  “Do you have the ring?”

  Marina lifted the small doll that had been placed on the chair beside her. Lifting the hem of the doll’s dress, the ring was tied about the dolls waist with a bit of twine.

  “You should keep your Mama’s ring,” Devil said. “I know she’d want you to have it. That way you’ll always remember her.”

  Willa heard the pain in his voice, the grief. Her heart broke for him. Whatever his many faults, he’d loved his sister, and the loss of her would haunt him always.

  “Are you finished eating, Marina?”

  The little girl nodded in response.

  Willa smiled at her. “Will you be very brave and let one of the maids take you back to the nursery?”

  The nod was slower and less enthusiastic, but still present.

  Devil rang the small bell that was on the table, and a maid entered. Marina rose from her chair and walked over to the shocked serving girl and placed her hand in the maid’s.

  “Would you escort Marina back to the nursery?”

  The maid bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, my lady.”

  When the little girl and the maid were gone, Devil spoke softly. “She’s right, of course. I didn’t give you a ring yesterday, and I should have. But I didn’t want to give you my mother’s ring because there is too much misery attached to it. Marriage was a curse to her, and I would not have it be that for you.”

  “I don’t need a ring. I have your promise, and that is enough.”

  He smiled. “You may not need the ring, but I need to give it to you. While you were sleeping so soundly after our exertions, I took care of more than one errand this morning in an effort to rectify my oversight.”

  Willa was stunned when he pulled a small leather box from the pocket of his waistcoat and placed it near her hand. She picked it up with trembling fingers and gently opened the clasp. Nestled inside on a satin bed was a gold band etched with a delicate filigree pattern and set with diamonds and pearls. “It’s beautiful.” It was. Delicate, feminine, and not at all ostentatious, it suited her perfectly. She could not have chosen a ring more suited to her had she done so herself.

  Devil removed the ring from the box and lifted her hand, sliding the ring onto her finger in a moment that seemed almost reverent. “There. Now all is as it should be.”

  “It’s too much. I shouldn’t accept it.”

  “But you will?” he said.

  She looked at the ring glittering on her hand. “I will. I couldn’t give it up now if I tried. It’s perfect.”

  “As are you… let’s go for a walk in the park, shall we? And allow the nasty, pinch-faced society matrons to get a gander at us in all of our connubial bliss.”

  “You’re just looking to stir gossip!” Willa protested.

  Devil picked up the news sheet he’d been reading and turned it over, placing it in front of her. “Unfortunately, it’s stirred already.”

  Willa glanced at the article and gasped.

  The devilish Lord D has finally done it. Married, ladies! Though g
iven his history, it will likely not slow his amorous pursuits at all. Still, what female of questionable sense and morals would be unwise enough to become Lady D? It appears she’s a governess from the famed Darrow School and has a scandalous connection to another rogue of some renown, a younger son of Lord H (hint, it rhymes with Featherton). Considering that Lord D had a rather notorious affair with Lady H and dueled with Lord H for her honor, this is something of a quandary to be sure. Family gatherings are bound to be interesting.

  “Do you wish to call on them and make some attempt to set things right? I hadn’t the awkwardness of it all, all things considered,” he explained.

  “No. Because I cannot abide him and he cannot abide me. Did you know that he never paid Effie for my schooling? She never asked him to. When I said she took me from my other school, I mean that she rescued me. We were being horribly mistreated there, Lillian and I. I think it was at his request. He wanted us to run away, I think. Though the outcome of some of their abuses could have been much worse. They locked us in attic rooms with no heat and no blankets, without food and water. I managed to sneak a letter to him once, begging for his help. He came, and we were beaten for our impertinence in front of him. We were dressed in rags, thin and half-starved. He didn’t care. He isn’t my father. He’s a man I despise. That is all.”

  “My past relationship with your stepmother is certainly a bit awkward,” he admitted.

  “Your past relationships with half the married women of the ton are a bit awkward,” she pointed out. “And I hardly expect that we will see either of them.”

  “Not half. That’s a bit much even for me,” he protested. “Get your pelisse. We need to face them before it gets worse.”

  “How can it possibly?” she demanded. “I’ve been publicly outed as the bastard daughter of one of the most hated men in society, whom you shot several years ago after having an affair with his wife. How on earth did this get out?”

  “Obtaining a special license is a difficult process, but it isn’t a private one. I’m certain the moment it was issued, someone was already writing this drivel,” he said. “There’s nothing left but to face them and their viperous scorn.”