To Tempt A Rogue

by Adrienne Basso

  Nathaniel knew his own passion was close to a blinding culmination, but he wanted to hold it off, to savor this moment of sheer perfection. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to hold back the fierce desire which seemed to possess him, but it was impossible.

  Moaning, he buried his face in the curve of her neck. Clutching her hips, he entered her again with long, decisive, possessive thrusts. Shuddering violently, Nathaniel spent himself inside her, his seed spurting forth, claiming her in the most basic way.

  He held himself in place even after the spasms had passed, treasuring the incredible sensation. A feeling of rightness settled over him. Never before had an interlude with a woman created such intense emotions, such physical perfection. And she was only a novice! Who knew what heights they would reach once he had an opportunity to tutor her.

  They were both breathing in long gasps, labored, heavy and erratic. Nathaniel flipped himself onto his back, and instantly felt bereft. He hauled Harriet into the crook of his neck and nuzzled her cheek. A great wave of protectiveness flowed over him and he felt the need to protect her always, to provide physical and emotional comfort whenever she was in need.

  He dozed briefly, exhaustion overtaking him. When he awoke, Harriet’s body was curled around his. Turning Harriet’s face towards him, Nathaniel smoothed the hair back from her forehead. She opened her eyes, then lowered her gaze and stifled a yawn.

  “Tired?” he asked.

  She shook her head, lifted her head and stared at him with a soft, contented gaze. He liked the drowsy, well-pleasured smile that curved her lips. Liked it even more, knowing he was the one who put it there.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “It hurt a bit more than I expected.” She rifled her fingers through the mat of dark hair on his chest “ ’Tis a curious sensation, having part of someone else’s body inside your own.”

  Nathaniel smiled. Leave it to Harriet to discuss the physical aspects of their union first, setting aside the emotional and spiritual connection. Since his brain was too mellow to function he would allow it. At present.

  “Any regrets?” he asked.

  She shifted her position and her lips brushed his ear. Then she caught his earlobe between her teeth and suckled gently.

  “Dare I assume that means you are content?”

  “You may,” she replied with a laugh.

  There was a protracted pause. Nathaniel placed his hand between her thighs. Thanks to her playful petting, he was rapidly developing another erection. “How do you feel? Are you terribly sore?”

  She buried her head in his shoulder, but not before he saw the telltale flush of red in her cheeks. “How shockingly intimate we have become in so short a time,” she said primly. Lifting her head, she flashed him a wicked wink, then began to nibble on his chest. “I find I rather like it.”

  Propping herself up on one arm, Harriet studied her handsome lover with unabashed delight. The shadow of his beard gave him a ruthless look, but she knew his masculine power was tempered by a good and gentle heart. His chest was moving with regular rhythm, but she felt too energized to join him in sleep.

  Harriet moved her legs restlessly, hoping the action might disturb his rest. Yet with the movement she felt her body ache in places she never imagined could ache. It didn’t matter. These strange sensations had brought her boundless joy, for they proved she was a thoroughly loved woman.

  It was late, or rather early in the morning. She knew she should let him sleep, but it was somehow impossible to keep her hands from touching him. Anywhere. Everywhere. She ran her fingertips lightly across Nathaniel’s nose. It twitched. Charmed, she did it again, then blew a wisp of breath strong enough to ruffle the hair that had fallen over his forehead.

  “Stop it,” a deep voice admonished.

  “Oh, you’re awake. Wonderful.”

  Nathaniel’s’ eyes opened. “And why aren’t you sound asleep? You should be faint with exhaustion after all that rigorous exercise.”

  “Well, I am not.”

  “Should I feel insulted?” Humor lit his gaze.

  “I don’t know.” She tilted her head and gave him a saucy stare. “You are, after all, my first lover, so I can make no comparison. Perhaps a younger man would be a more suitable choice for my passionate nature.”

  “There will be no other in your bed, save me, and don’t you dare to forget it.” As if to emphasis the point, Nathaniel gripped her firmly around the waist.

  Her heart leapt at his declaration. Yet she knew there were far more important matters that needed to be settled before they could devote their complete attention to their ripening relationship.

  “Now that I have truly ruined everything, how do you suggest we escape from the Highlands without getting caught?”

  Nathaniel’s lips brushed against her forehead. “You haven’t ruined things, Harriet. You have just managed to make life a wee bit more challenging.”

  “Do not joke about this Nathaniel. I am upset enough without you making me feel worse.”

  He lifted his head off the pillow. “We both agreed that casting blame would serve no useful purpose. And I do share the responsibility.”

  “Yes, but not equally.”

  “Fine. This time you win the prize for being the bigger fool. I daresay next time it will be me.”

  Harriet stretched out her legs, curling her toes. She knew she bore the brunt of guilt, but Nathaniel was right. Whining over it was just a waste of time. “We cannot let your uncle find the children. I agree our best chance is with Duncan in Edinburgh, yet I hesitate to leave the castle. Perhaps it would be better to hide out here than risk getting caught on the road?”

  Nathaniel sighed and ran his hand lightly down her back. “Hillsdale Castle is very isolated. I have no wish to confront my uncle or a gang of Bow Street Runners without a lot of witnesses. I think my original plan of seeking refuge with Duncan is the best decision. In fact, if at all possible we should leave today.”

  “I too have been thinking about the journey,” Harriet said. Nathaniel’s hand strayed to the top of her breast and began to inch its way toward her nipple. Harriet’s pulse sped up and she lost her thoughts. Grabbing his wrist, she pulled his hand off her bosom and placed it on her shoulder. “We should travel to Edinburgh disguised as a family. A prosperous merchant, his wife, and three children. It might make our trail harder for the runners to follow.”

  “It might.”

  Nathaniel started the swirling rhythm again, this time with the tip of his finger on a delicate spot behind her ear. Harriet swallowed hard and tried to force her brain to concentrate. “The children and I have been studying Scottish history and it has given me a rather radical idea.”

  “I’ve never known you to have any other kind.” Harriet frowned, deciding to let that comment pass. Besides, his talented hands were once again on the move, heading down her side towards the top of her thighs. “The children have been especially taken with any stories of courage and bravery. We recently read an account of Flora MacDonald, a great Scottish heroine. Apparently she saved the young Pretender’s life after the defeat at Culloden by dressing him as her maid. In spite of the enormous reward of 30,000 pounds, no Highlander betrayed the prince.”

  “Such is the loyalty of the Scots,” Nathaniel remarked. “For one of their own.”

  “Well, I think we should borrow from their example of dressing a man as a maid.”

  Nathaniel’s hand ceased all movement. “You want me to dress as a maid?”

  Harriet burst out laughing. “Lord, now that would be a sight! I believe I would pay 30,000 pounds to see you in an apron and mobcap.”

  “Even for the safety of the children, there is no way that I—”

  “Oh, calm down.” She giggled once more. “If there are runners scouring the countryside, they will be looking for someone traveling with two girls and one young boy. However, if we take a page from Scottish history and dress Gregory in a simple gown, we can pose as a merchant family trav
eling with their three daughters. If we are unlucky enough to encounter anyone searching for us, it might render us beyond their notice.”

  “Dress Gregory as a girl? Won’t that scar him for life?”

  Harriet wrinkled her brow. “Well, McTate wears a skirt and he seems none the worse for wear.”

  “Be serious.”

  “I am.” Harriet lifted her gaze to his. “You can talk as much as you like about sharing the blame for this mess, but I do feel a keen sense of responsibility and I need to do everything within my power to set it to rights.”

  “Then we shall try this plan.” Nathaniel turned his head and glanced out the window. “ ’Tis dark outside, but dawn cannot be far away. Will it take you long to be ready?”

  “We will need a few hours to prepare Gregory’s new wardrobe. I am certain I can fashion one or two of Jeanne Marie’s simpler gowns to fit him.” Harriet grimaced. “Of course the real challenge will be convincing him to wear the dress.”

  “We might have to bribe him,” Nathaniel agreed. “Do you think he would accept a bank draft?”

  Harriet let out a loud giggle and punched Nathaniel playfully on the chest. He grabbed her arm and held her so she could not land another blow. They tussled briefly on the bed and Harriet soon found herself pinned beneath her lover.

  His eyes heated to darkness. He began nibbling, then lightly sucking the tips of her fingers. The strange action made her feel restless and was stirring up excitement in the oddest places.

  Her breath hissed from between her teeth. “What are you doing?”

  She caught a glimpse of his sly grin of triumph just before he rolled her onto her back and covered her with his body. “We have hours till dawn,” he said. “Let’s make the most of it.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jerome Brockhurst did not particularly like horses nor riding on horseback for an extended period of time. As a Bow Street Runner, his normal territory encompassed the streets of London and his normal mode of transportation was on foot or if the distance was far and time of the essence, a hired hackney.

  He was familiar and comfortable with London’s back streets and rookeries, the criminal haunts and seedier areas that teemed with swarms of people packed into ramshackle buildings. He relied on a network of informants and a brotherhood of fellow runners to solve his cases and apprehend the criminals responsible for those crimes.

  Aside from taking pride in a job well done, Jerome often felt a great deal of personal satisfaction from setting certain wrongs to right, of ensuring that justice and fair play prevailed at the end of the day. It was part of the reason he became a runner in the first place and part of the reason why he continued in this dangerous profession.

  He had been selected personally by the chief magistrate to handle Lord Bridwell’s unusual case and from the beginning there had been many elements that had troubled him. Cases involving young children were rare, events of kidnapping by a relative even more of an oddity. Jerome knew there were important facts about this incident that Lord Bridwell was desperately trying to hide and that had hindered the runner’s progress and heightened his suspicions.

  He had been instructed by Lord Bridwell to keep a close eye on the household servants, particularly the housekeeper, Mrs. Hutchinson. Jerome did so with extreme reluctance, feeling it was a waste of time to pester the woman. Yet amazingly a clue was uncovered when purely by chance, he intercepted a letter addressed to the housekeeper.

  Jerome was honest enough to admit it was more a result of fate than skill that he even saw the letter. He was leaving Lord Bridwell’s home at the exact moment a young soldier, with a thick Scottish burr, mistakenly came to the front door asking for Mrs. Hutchinson. Before the lad could be directed to the servants’ entrance, Jerome had accepted the letter, read it, reported its contents to Lord Bridwell and informed his lordship he would start preparations for the journey north immediately.

  Jerome’s initial suspicion was that the letter might be a hoax, some form of trickery designed to put any investigators off the scent, but further conversation with the housekeeper confirmed the existence of the much beloved doll mentioned in the correspondence. Additionally, the runner had discovered papers within the mansion that shed new light on the intricacies of the case.

  So armed with this knowledge, and an even further commitment to see justice done, Jerome set out for the Highlands. He had been riding for days, as his sore backside would attest, and was heartily sick of fresh air, large mountains and suspicious villagers.

  Still, he pressed on. Time was of the essence and there were no guarantees the children would be at the castle when he finally arrived. Lord Avery had proven himself to be a clever foe, though clearly he had made a very wrong choice when employing a governess.

  On this day, an early start and sunny skies had done little to lift Jerome’s spirits. By day’s end he was even more discouraged, for he had not traveled as many miles as he had planned. Yet it would be foolish and unsafe to travel these unknown roads at night. Fortunately an inn came into sight in the bottom of the valley, nestled beside a small lake. Welcoming lights gleamed in the windows and smoke curled in great billowing clouds from the chimneys.

  The scent of freshly cooked meat and other culinary aromas drifted through the evening air. Jerome licked his lips hungrily, hoping there would be room for him in this quaint establishment.

  He guided his horse cautiously into the graveled yard and swung down from the saddle. A lad hurried over to attend him.

  “Hallo, sir. Are ye ’ere fer a meal or will ye be stayin’ the night?”

  “I need a bed and my horse badly needs rest.” Jerome replied. He unfastened one of the saddlebags and removed the satchel that contained his personal items and a few clean clothes. He flipped the lad a coin, instructing him to feed the horse a substantial dinner and settle the animal comfortably in a stall for the night.

  A pleasant commotion greeted Jerome when he entered the inn through the brightly painted yellow door. The taproom was crowded, most likely with local men eager for a night of companionship and hearty ale. As a lone male traveler he attracted little attention, until he opened his mouth. Though he tried to keep his tone low when inquiring after a room, his broad English accent attracted the notice of many.

  The noise of conversation dimmed and several guests craned their necks to have a look at him. Jerome straightened himself up to his full height and frowned at the staring men. It took a few tense seconds for them to give up the intimidation game and turn their attention back to their drinks, dinner, and conversation.

  Jerome took his time making arrangements for his room, hoping to engage the innkeeper in conversation. He had learned over the years it was far easier to solicit information when the individual you were questioning had no idea the information was of value.

  However, the runner soon discovered the barrel-chested Scot who owned the inn was not the type to engage in idle chatter.

  “Who did ye say ye were lookin’ fer?” the innkeeper asked in a suspicious tone.

  “Ah well, there’s the rub,” Jerome replied. “I’m hoping to find Lord Avery, but you know how queer the aristocracy can be at times. He might not be using his title on this journey. But he wouldn’t be difficult to spot, since he’s traveling with three young children, two girls and a lad.”

  Casually Jerome slid twice the price of the room across the worn oak counter. The innkeeper’s eye lit up and he reached eagerly for the coins, but the runner quickly snatched them back.

  “Have you seen them?”

  The innkeeper darted a look in Jerome’s direction. “What’s this feller done?”

  “Nothing.” Jerome could feel the innkeeper watching him very closely. “I have news I know Lord Avery will be eager to receive. A great-aunt has remembered him most kindly in her will.” He smiled and patted the breast coat of his pocket. “In addition to the modest wage I’m earning for this job, I’m hoping his lordship will reward the man who brings him word of his sudde
n good fortune.”

  Understanding creased the innkeeper’s brow, then he scowled. “No, I hadna seen him nor the wee bairns.”

  Jerome nodded and pushed the coins back across the counter. All of them. Since he needed the rest he intended to sleep soundly tonight. There was no sense in putting his neck in jeopardy by annoying the innkeeper. Besides, Lord Bridwell was paying all the expenses for this journey.

  Craving privacy, Jerome had his meal sent to his room. It was delivered by a buxom tavern wench who was clearly disappointed when he thanked her politely and sent her away, even after she went to the trouble of thrusting her breasts nearly in his face to show her interest. Jerome held no illusions about his masculine appeal—he assumed the woman had heard about his payment to the innkeeper and was hoping to supplement her income.

  He quickly ate the surprisingly tasty meal of beefsteak, pigeon pie, potatoes, and stewed cucumber, washing it all down with a half bottle of tolerable wine. His belly full, Jerome made good use of the water provided in the washstand to scrub away the day’s grime.

  He packed away his soiled garments and pulled out a clean shirt for tomorrow’s journey, knowing it would be important to leave at first light. It was such a great relief to be off his horse for a few hours that he barely noticed the lumpy mattress and less than pristine sheets when he crawled into the bed.

  For safety’s sake, Jerome slept with the papers he carried beneath his pillow, uneasy with the thought of having them out of his possession. This was among the more interesting and challenging cases he had ever undertaken, and as his eyes drifted closed the runner could not help but wonder how Lord Avery would react when he arrived on the doorstep of Hillsdale Castle.

  “I won’t wear it. It’s for girls.”

  “Come on, Gregory, it will be fun,” Nathaniel cajoled with an encouraging grin. “If you put the frock on we can go down to the kitchen and play a trick on Mrs. Mullins. She’ll never guess that it is you.”