Debra Mullins

by Scandal of the Black Rose

  “I will speak with you, Rome,” she said, with a stubborn lift of her chin.

  The challenge in her stance roused the sleeping beast he kept so tightly leashed. He reached for her, his hands closing on her supple, silk-clad shoulders. A gasp escaped her lips as he dragged her to him, pressing those sweet curves against his greedy body.

  He lowered his mouth to her ear. “Don’t you know bad things happen to innocent girls in the dark?”

  “You don’t frighten me.” Her voice trembled, as did her body. But when she turned her gaze to his, it was not fear he saw, but passion.

  “Damn it, Anna.” He rubbed his cheek against her elegantly arranged curls, the scent of roses making him drunk with wanting her. “Why couldn’t you leave it be?”

  “What have I done,” she whispered, “that you would treat me so hatefully?”

  “You know what you’ve done.” He straightened, breathing hard. “You made me want you. And I shouldn’t.”

  “It was an accident.” She leaned away, resisting his possessive hold. “We agreed to forget that night at Vauxhall, to work together as partners to solve the murders.”

  “I cannot be your partner, Anna.” He forced his fingers to release her. “Not in the way you mean.”

  “But why?” She took a step back, putting space between them. “I can’t do this without you.”

  “Because it’s dangerous.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I do.” He traced her cheek with his thumb. “I don’t want you hurt.”

  Her breath caught at his touch. “I won’t get hurt.”

  “You might.” He made himself drop his hand and back away. “These are dangerous men. Killers. They must not discover you know of their existence.”

  “I’m not a fool.”

  He gave a short, harsh laugh. “I am.”

  “My brother deserves the truth.”

  “You already know what happened.”

  “No, I don’t.” She looked like an Amazon queen in the moonlight, her body delicate and her will indomitable. “I have suspicions, but no facts. Anthony was not just my brother but my twin, Rome. A part of him lives in me and cries out for justice.”

  “I can’t let anything happen to you. I won’t.”

  “For pity’s sake!”

  “No, for your sake.”

  “You said you would help me.” She jutted out her chin, eyes gleaming with ire. “You are breaking your word.”

  He shrugged. “Your life is worth that.”

  “My life is nothing unless I discover the truth.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “I’m asking to be treated like a grown woman. Like a business partner.”

  He laughed again, the edge of desperation clear even to him. “No man would ever call you a business partner, Anna.” He slanted her a hungry look. “And don’t tempt me to treat you like a grown woman. My control is thin.”

  “There is more to this than your passions, Rome. Lives are at stake.”

  “My point exactly. Your life is at stake if you remain involved, so I am not giving you the option. Stay away from the Black Rose Society, Anna.”

  “I can’t.” Her doelike eyes begged him to understand. “I’m sorry, Rome.”

  He saw the determination in her stance, the stubbornness of her mouth. “Damn you.”

  She flinched. “This is the way it has to be.”

  “This is not the way it has to be! I doubt your brother would want you to endanger your life to help him.”

  She paled. “That may be so, but he was a part of me, and I can’t give up on him.” She clicked open the locket with trembling fingers. “Can you see him? The man he was? The adventurous young man who was kind to children? The born seaman who longed to captain his own ship? The loyal brother, the tenderhearted son?” Her voice grew hoarse as her eyes glistened with tears. “The world will never know Anthony now, and I will find out who took him from this life, even if I die trying.”

  He studied the image of the young man, barely visible in the moonlight, then lifted his gaze to her tearful one. His heart rolled over in his chest.

  When this woman loved, she loved completely.

  “You’re an amazing woman,” he murmured, then placed his hand over hers to close the locket. He allowed his fingers to linger against her scented skin, the thud of her heart steady against his flesh.

  “I can’t give up on him, Rome.” The tears trickled like liquid diamonds down her cheeks. “No one else will listen to me. I’m all he has.”

  “Shhh. It’s all right.” He finally released her locket to pull out his handkerchief. Gently, he dabbed at her face, the crisp linen soaking up the teardrops.

  “You’re the only one who knows. The only one who understands. Those men killed my brother. He was stolen from me forever by the Black Rose Society.” She nearly spat the name. “He was going to buy a ship and name it after me, then sail the world and begin his own shipping company. He was a good man, a trustworthy brother. I loved him.”

  She choked on the last words, nearly undone, and her eyes filled again. Big fat droplets streamed down her cheeks, and she stared at him, so alone, so much in pain, grieving for the twin who had been ripped from her life.

  In the face of such raw heartache, he could only do what any other man would do in his place. He gathered her into his arms and held her.

  She sank into his embrace, her fingers curling into the lapels of his coat as huge sobs wracked her small frame. Murmuring soothing words, he urged her into one of the intimate grottoes so no one wandering down the path would see them. Then he held her, while she wept out her anguish into his shoulder.

  He smoothed his hands over her back, crooning words of comfort in her ear. She seemed too petite to carry such a huge burden on her shoulders, but her spirit would not be conquered. She would do right by her brother or die trying. If she had been a man, he would have respected her tremendously.

  But she wasn’t a man. The sweet curves pressed against him reminded him firmly of that. And because she was a female, he held her in even higher esteem for her sense of honor and duty to her slain brother.

  Beautiful, intelligent, loyal. Anna Rosewood was a hell of a woman.

  Her sobs quieted, and she remained within his embrace, her breathing a series of long, deep shudders. He rested his cheek against her hair, closing his eyes and inhaling the sweet scent of roses that clung to her. He was content to hold her, the hush of the night surrounding them, the moon bathing them in cool, silvery light.

  He could stay that way forever and die a happy man.

  She lifted her head. Moisture clung to her lashes, and a hollow pain still lingered in her eyes. She sniffled. He raised a hand to her cheek and smoothed his fingers across the damp planes of her face, his tender smile reassuring.

  She just looked at him, studied his face inch by inch with the fascination of someone examining the Elgin marbles. She paused at his mouth, eyes narrowing in feminine interest. His body tightened with a hot surge of need.

  Then she pressed her lips to his, and he fell headfirst into the maelstrom.

  He couldn’t have her, but he couldn’t resist her. He didn’t want to want her, but he hungered for her with his very blood. Her willing kiss ensnared him, cast him into a whirlpool of desire that spun his thoughts and tangled his will in knots.

  He fisted his hands behind her back even as he pulled her closer. She clung to him and tormented him with her lips and teeth and tongue, wearing down his willpower like rushing water over sand. He joined in the kiss, helpless to resist a moment longer. She gave a soft groan of triumph that shot straight to his loins and fed the fire.

  He tugged her deeper into the shadows, and she clung to him like ivy to mortar, pliant in his hands.

  Helpless against the need that worked its will on her, she yielded to his guiding hands and desperate caresses. Everything inside her glowed hot, and for the first time since last he hel
d her, she burned with life.

  Anthony was gone; but she was here, and she was on fire.

  Rome’s touch burned away the cold ache of grief and filled her with the delicious heat of desire. She wanted to bask in this wonderful feeling forever, to forget the darkness that had haunted her in the many months since her twin’s death.

  And the nightmares.

  Rome gathered her to him as if insatiable for her, his hands greedy with need. She lost herself in his embrace, gloried in this dance of life as he swept his mouth down her neck. A sharp keening surprised her as it burst from her throat.

  Had such joy ever existed before?

  His hand cupped her breast, and her thoughts whirled away like autumn leaves. Pleasure spiked through her as he brushed a thumb over her nipple. Scandalous! Dear God, such sensations could not be borne…

  “I need you.” His rough mutter jolted through her like lightning. “God save me, but I need you, Anna.”

  “How do you do this to me?” She laid a hand along his cheek, drawing his gaze to hers. “How can you lay your hands on me and shatter every truth I thought I knew?”

  “You do the same to me. You make me forget.” He cupped her bottom and pulled her into the rigid length straining against his trousers. “I can think of nothing but having you.”

  “I need to forget.” She kissed his lips, then held his face between her two palms. “Make me forget, Rome.”

  He gave a low growl that thrilled her, then tugged her over to the stone bench hidden from the path by hedges and flowering trees. She went willingly, desperate to push away the pain, starving to feel the pleasure once more. A tiny voice in the back of her mind begged her to beware the consequences, but she stilled it.

  Fifteen months of mourning. The agony of it left her breathless and bruised inside. But Rome’s touch washed away the pain, made her glory in her heart beating and her blood pumping. Before Rome, she had felt as dead and cold as the marble statues in the garden. But now—Dear Lord, now she lived.

  She sat on the bench, and the cool stone momentarily jerked her from her passionate haze. The voice of caution whispered again, and she strained to hear it. Then Rome sat beside her and pulled her into his lap, and the glimmer of uncertainty winked out.

  His hardness nestled against her bottom through thin layers of clothing, demonstrating his need for her. Right or wrong, she wanted this man with a hunger that shocked her.

  He kissed her again as he slid his hand beneath her skirt. His fingers brushed her ankle, calf, knee. Her skin tingled in the wake of his caress, arousing her own demanding passion.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, lost in sensation, trembling with the force of her own ardor.

  “I remember how you felt.” He traced her ear with the tip of his tongue. “How you looked. How you sounded. I want that again.”

  Her heart skipped. “Oh, God.”

  “You’re beautiful.” He dipped his head and laved the curve of a breast plumped above the top of her bodice. “I want to touch all of you.” His fingers edged along her thighs, light as fairy wings. “I want to watch you when the pleasure takes you.”

  His words wooed her with as much power as his caresses. Would he take her right here in the garden? Did he want her that much? Excitement rippled down her spine.

  He nudged her thighs apart and slipped his hand between them as he nipped at her neck. He came to where the locket rested over her beating heart and flicked the ornament away, leaving it to dangle over her shoulder, as he dropped a string of sweet, succulent kisses down her breastbone, as his fingers reached the moist, hot folds between her legs.

  Her head fell back as he touched her core, and the locket swung in time to his strokes, bumping her in gentle rhythm. It almost felt like someone was tapping her on the shoulder, trying to tell her something.

  Then Rome slid a finger inside her, and her senses spun like a wild carousel.

  “God, I want you,” he rasped. “You’re so wet and hot. I could slide right in, feel you squeeze me.”

  He curled his arm around her to fondle her breast, rubbing her nipple to an aching, rigid nub as his fingers glided over the slickness of her sensitive folds. She rocked in his arms, moving with an instinct that sang to her.

  The locket kept tapping against her shoulder.

  He leaned forward and rested his mouth over the turgid nipple, then breathed hot air through the silk of her dress. She arched her back as her senses jangled and her flesh throbbed.

  “I want to see you.” He tugged her bodice down, freeing her breasts, then stroking the bare, straining bud.

  He cupped her plump flesh in his hand and took her aching nipple into his mouth.

  A whimper burst through her lips as her head fell back, and she clung to him with fingers like claws. Tension built, piling up like logs in the river. If he kept touching her breast and stroking her down there, she knew she would shatter into a thousand pieces.

  She squirmed against him, restless with the passion surging through her veins. She felt as if she had to do something. Get something. Take something. Her hand slid down his chest in a silky caress, hesitated at his waist. She didn’t know what to do, how to get what she craved. Frustrated, she wiggled her bottom against his hardness.

  He gave a wicked laugh. “I know what you want,” he murmured in her ear.

  “I just want you,” she whispered back.

  “And I want you so badly I ache from it.” Holding her gaze with his, he shifted her to the bench, though her legs still draped across his thighs. Then he took her hand and pressed it to the stiff ridge she had felt beneath her. “Do you see what you do to me? How desperately I want to be inside you?”

  “Heavens.” Fascinated, she traced her fingers over the bulge in his trousers.

  “Bloody hell.” He trembled and squeezed his eyes shut, then grabbed her wrist to stop her caress.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No. Too right.” He opened his eyes, not even bothering to hide the hot desire that throbbed in him.

  “Rome.” She pulled her hand from his grasp and wrapped an arm around his neck. “Don’t leave me aching like this,” she whispered.

  He made a choked sound of need. When she took his hand and pressed it to her bare breast, that sound became a growl. He crushed her to him, taking her mouth in a kiss that frightened and thrilled her with its savagery. He jerked at the fastenings of his trousers with one hand, and once he’d freed himself, he took her hand and pressed it to his hard, hot flesh.

  She gave a gasp that was swallowed by his kiss. Following the guidance of his fingers, she stroked the velvety length of his naked flesh, taking perverse feminine pleasure from his groans of encouragement.

  “I want to slide inside you,” he whispered hoarsely between kisses. “I want to feel you around me, all that sweet wetness easing my way.”

  “Oh, my.” She clung to him, utterly scandalized by his daring and yet thrilled by it, too. Had ever a man wanted her so much?

  “Oh, my God!”

  The strident female voice doused their ardor like a bucket of cold water. They looked up to see Lavinia standing at the entrance to their hideaway, her face stark white with shock.

  Reality returned with a crash. Anna struggled out of Rome’s lap, the seriousness of her situation hitting her like a tidal wave.

  “Rome,” Lavinia gasped, “what have you done?”

  “Wait for me on the path, Vin.” With a few swift motions, Rome refastened his clothing.

  Lavinia’s expression grew furious. “Wait for you on the path? Do you think me a child, Roman?”

  “I only ask for a moment of privacy. For Anna.”

  She flicked a glance at Anna, then pressed her lips together, clearly biting back blistering words. “Very well,” she snapped. “I will wait two minutes, Roman!” Spinning on her heel, she stalked away.

  Anna struggled to set her dress to rights, unable to meet Rome’s gaze. Tears stung her eyes. What
had she done?

  “Allow me.” Deftly, Rome straightened her clothing, while she sat helpless as a doll. “Anna? Are you all right?”

  She raised her eyes to his. “We are ruined.”

  “No, we’re not. It’s Vin. I’ll talk to her.”

  “She saw—” She choked to a stop.

  “I know.” He stroked her cheek. “I’ll fix this. I promise.” He leaned forward and scooped his forgotten handkerchief from the ground, then pressed it into her hand. “Dry your tears and compose yourself. I will speak with my sister.”

  Compose herself?

  She stared in disbelief as he rose and walked away. As if it were simple to compose herself after they had both come so close to scandal!

  With trembling hands, she straightened her bodice and turned the locket around. It had opened somehow. She stared down at Anthony’s dear face and winced at the guilt that pinched her.

  She had done it again, blithely fallen into Rome’s arms and allowed him to take liberties. Begged him to, even. Her face burned as she remembered how she’d pleaded with him to make her forget.

  And he had done so. Quite skillfully.

  Forget the pain of her grief, yes. But how could she have forgotten Anthony and her objective to bring his murderers to justice? How could she have forgotten her duty to her parents, to Haverford?

  She buried her face in the handkerchief. Wicked, wanton girl! Rome had become a bad habit, like blackberry trifle. And she craved him as much as she had ever craved her favorite dessert.

  “Are you mad?” From the other side of the hedge, Lavinia’s urgent whisper made Anna flinch. “How dare you seduce that innocent girl!”

  “Calm down, Vin,” Rome said.

  “Calm down? You lied to me, Roman.”

  “I didn’t. This was an accident.”

  “An accident is when you fall off a horse. Corrupting your cousin’s fiancée in the garden is not an accident, it’s just wrong. Have you not learned anything from Father’s mistakes?”

  “If you give me a moment to explain—”

  “I don’t need an explanation, Rome. I saw what I saw. Certainly more than any sister ever should! You’re just lucky it was I who found you and not some gossip.”