A Matter of Scandal

by Suzanne Enoch

  “How does Jane feel about you?” he asked slowly.

  Frederick’s brow furrowed. “She’s mad for me, of course.”

  “Of course.” With effort Grey kept from glancing back at the beckoning window. “Tonight you began to establish that you are worthy of trust, a man of your word. The day after tomorrow you will send a note to the Academy, addressed to Miss Emma Grenville, inquiring as to whether the ladies who attended the soirée tonight might wish to join you for luncheon in Basingstoke.”

  The younger man gave a sly grin. “I begin to see why you have such a reputation, Your Grace.”

  Grey wasn’t so sure he deserved the praise, if that was what it was. He knew how to seduce a woman; he’d done it more times than he could count. One complimented them, said what they thought they wanted to hear and bought them a few trinkets, if necessary, and then one bedded them.

  But the problem here was twofold. One, he knew Jane. And having been in the position to instruct and interact with her, he felt…protective toward her. The second problem was Emma. She wasn’t simply a female whose favors he wanted, though he did want them again. Badly. She’d become more than that. She was damned complicated, and to know her, to understand her, he needed to learn what moved her and what motivated her. If he couldn’t do that, neither could he expect that she would return his interest and affection.

  “Your Grace?”

  Grey shook himself. If he spent all night mooning over her, he wasn’t going to have enough time to actually go and see her. “Yes?”

  “Good night.”

  “Good night.” Grey shut the door again, listening as Freddie’s footsteps headed for the stairs. He would puzzle out Jane and Frederick later.

  Making sure his door was latched, he pulled his coat back on and returned to the window. Thanks to the rough stonework and a drainpipe, descending took only a few moments. Once on the ground, he paused. Taking Cornwall made the most sense, but thanks to Freddie’s delayed departure, the grooms still moved about the stable. “Damnation,” he grunted. A two-mile hike in the dark didn’t hold much appeal, particularly considering he would have to return the same way.

  Going back to bed was out of the question. All night the scent of Emma’s hair, the touch of her hand, the sound of her voice, had driven him half mad. The only thing that had kept him from dragging her into an unoccupied room and stripping her clothes off had been the thought that he would have her in his arms before sunrise.

  Bloody hell, he was a duke. He wasn’t supposed to have to sneak, or evade servants, or saddle his own damned horse, or go traipsing on foot through the woods to a rendezvous. She should be coming to find him. Grey sighed irritably. Emma wouldn’t do any such thing, and he knew damned well that he wasn’t going to sit on his ass and wait.

  Deciding a few minutes delay would be better than four miles on foot, he stalked back and forth in the deep shadows until the last light in the stable went out. Normally he admired diligence, but tonight he would have been happy to see the entire stable staff drunk and sleeping hours ago. He slipped in through the door and collected Cornwall, grabbing the necessary tack and hauling everything outside to saddle the beast.

  He glanced up toward the house as he swung up onto the bay. The drawing room was on the opposite side of the manor, and all of the windows overlooking the stable were dark. Just to be safe, though, he kept Cornwall to a quiet walk until they reached the end of the drive. As soon as they passed out of earshot he urged the gelding into a canter.

  The moon was half full and sitting almost directly overhead, its light enough to read by. Once he caught a glimpse of Freddie ahead on the road and, swearing, slowed Cornwall to a walk again before he ran the lad down.

  As he approached the ivy-covered walls surrounding the Academy, he noticed that all of the lights were out there, as well. He wasn’t surprised. It was well past bedtime for all proper chits. He smiled to himself. Emma wasn’t nearly as proper as she liked to think.

  Standing in the saddle, he pulled himself up to the top of the wall and dropped down the other side. Emma really needed to set some dogs out on night patrol to protect those girls. This was too simple. On the other hand, he didn’t want a pack of hounds nipping at his heels while he sprinted across the moonlit grass to the building’s deep shadows.

  The main door was locked and bolted, but the third window he tried slid open easily. Grey slipped inside one of the classrooms and closed the window behind himself. No sense getting papers blown all over the place by the night breeze.

  Silently, he made his way into the main hall and then upstairs to the second floor. Everything was peaceful and quiet, which was encouraging. She had to know he was on his way, but no Amazon school instructors barred the way, and the troll seemed to be wherever he spent the night.

  Her office door was closed, but not locked. Grey stepped inside, the slight scent of lemon in the air making him go hard all over again. The room looked different with the desk gone, but at the moment all that concerned him was that she wasn’t in there, either.

  “Emma?” he whispered, approaching her bed chamber door.

  It opened. “I thought about sleeping somewhere else tonight,” she said in a soft, low voice.

  Her long auburn hair hung in loose waves around her shoulders. She wasn’t wearing her robe, but stood in her nightgown and bare feet, one hand on the door. “What made you decide to stay?” he asked, using all of his self-control to keep from grabbing her to him.

  She tilted her head, studying him, and he stopped breathing. No woman had ever affected him like this before. Slowly she stepped forward, laying her hand flat against his chest.

  “I decided to stay,” she murmured, sliding up along his body and curling her fingers into his hair, “because of this.” She leaned up and softly touched her lips to his.

  Grey slipped his arms around her hips, pulling her harder against him. With a groan he deepened the kiss, relishing the soft, supple warmth of her.

  “I don’t have a desk at the moment,” she said, tilting her head back and exposing the soft curve of her throat to his kisses.

  He caressed her skin with his lips and his tongue, drawing a harsh breath as she trembled. “The bed will do.”

  She knew what to do, this time. He shrugged out of his coat while she unfastened his waistcoat and loosened his cravat.

  “You didn’t even choke me.” He kissed her again, allowing her to taste and explore him as he had done to her.

  “I’m a good student,” she replied, running her warm hands up his chest, under his shirt.

  “I can see that.” Her hands slid lower, to the fastening of his breeches. “Up for another lesson?”

  She chuckled, her hands straying lower. “You are.”

  His lips curving in a smile, he took her hand and spun her around, facing away from him, then pulled her up against him again. “There are still a few things you don’t know,” he murmured into her hair, sliding the gown off her shoulders.

  “Teach me,” she said breathlessly, leaning back against him as he slipped the gown down to her waist and lifted his hands to cover her breasts.

  Grey closed his eyes, letting the feel of her moving against him, of her straining nipples against his fingers, soak into him. He wanted to satisfy her and teach her and make her want only him. He wanted to be the only man ever to touch her like this, the only man to make her moan with pleasure as she was now.

  He swept her up into his arms and carried her to her tiny bed, barely large enough for one. He laid her down, sliding down beside her to kiss and caress her smooth skin. When she pushed at his shoulder, he allowed her to turn him onto his back. Emma yanked his shirt off over his head, then sank down to run her tongue across his nipples, as he had done with her.

  “Does it feel good to you, too?” she asked, her hair curtaining them.

  “Yes. I like the feel of your hands, your mouth, on me,” he said, moving his hand between them, down to where she was hot and damp and ready for him. />
  Arching her back, Emma pressed herself against his fingers. “Wait,” she gasped. “I want to make you feel this way, too.”

  He chuckled. “I already do.”

  She moved down his body, yanking his boots off, and then freeing him from his breeches. Breathing hard, she dropped his trousers off the side of the bed and resumed her exploration. As her hands tentatively, gently, stroked his manhood, Grey clenched his jaw, striving to maintain control.

  Her tongue touched his tip. With a hiss he rose up on his elbows. “Emma,” he managed in an unsteady growl.

  She looked at him from beneath her lashes, the proper headmistress on fire. “I like you this way,” she whispered, her soft breath on his hot skin near to driving him mad, “not so arrogant.”

  “Come here,” he demanded, pulling her up along the length of his body, “before you kill me.”

  With his guidance she straddled his hips, then slowly sank down onto him with a shuddering groan.

  The welcoming tight heat of her nearly pushed him beyond the edge of control. He stayed up on his elbows, kissing her, until she pushed him down flat and leaned over him.

  “Show me,” she breathed.

  His hands on her hips, he showed her how to move on him. “Like this.”

  She complied, moaning again as he matched her rhythm. “You’re right about my books; they could never describe this.”

  With a soft laugh he reached up to run his palms along her warm skin. Neither books nor his own substantial experience could describe Emma, either. She was unique. She took all of his focus, all of his attention, and left him breathless. “Emma,” he whispered.

  “Oh, Grey.” She began to move faster on him, then tightened and pulsed, collapsing on his chest.

  Straining for another few seconds of control while dots swam in front of his eyes, he took her hips to push her off of himself. Emma raised up again, covering his hands with hers, her eyes glinting as she held his gaze.

  “No.”

  With a growl Grey threw his head back, pushing up toward her as he came, deep inside her. “Emma,” he said when he could speak again, angry and out of breath and entirely befuddled, “why—”

  She covered his mouth with hers. “Because,” she murmured, stretching out alongside him.

  “Because” hardly seemed the answer of an educated headmistress. If she had half the confusion of roiled emotions boiling through her as he did, though, he would accept it as good enough. For now.

  Chapter 15

  Stretching, Emma opened one eye—to see a pair of light green eyes looking back at her. It was the most peculiar thing; she wasn’t startled, or even faintly surprised. Instead, she felt as if, for the first time ever, everything in the world was exactly the way it was supposed to be.

  “Good morning.”

  Perfection crashed down around her ears. “Morning?” she gasped, flinging off the covers and sitting upright. “What are you still doing here? Oh, no!”

  Looking amused and far too calm, Grey sat up as well, catching her around the waist and pulling her back against his hip. “It’s barely morning. Our secret is still safe, Em.”

  She took a ragged breath. The little clock on her nightstand was nearly impossible to make out in the dimness, which in itself was a good sign. “Four thirteen,” she finally read. “Did I fall asleep?”

  “Mm hm.”

  “Did you?”

  “No.” Slowly he ran his hand from her shoulders down her spine, warm and familiar and possessive.

  Emma swung her legs back onto the narrow bed so she could see him. “Aren’t you tired?”

  “Yes.” He bent his head and kissed her shoulder. Meeting her gaze again, he lifted an eyebrow. “Are you trying to tell me to leave?”

  “The house staff rises before six.” She wished she hadn’t fallen asleep and that he had, so that she could look at him without his curious, knowing gaze on her, always figuring out exactly what she was thinking and feeling.

  He stuffed the bed’s single pillow against the headboard and leaned back, the thin blanket sliding to his hips. “You need a bigger bed,” he said thoughtfully, folding one arm behind his head.

  “I like my bed.” She wanted to pull the blanket down farther and renew her investigation of his man-parts, but then he certainly wouldn’t leave before anyone discovered him.

  “I hang off at both ends,” he said, wriggling his toes to demonstrate.

  “You’re gigantic.”

  “Thank you.” His soft, wicked chuckle sent a rush of blood through her veins. It must have done the same thing to him, because the blanket stirred. “Come here.”

  “Grey, I need to sleep. I have an early class.”

  He sat up again, slipping his arms around her and pulling her down to rest against his broad, strong chest. “I have an early class, too,” he murmured, twining his fingers lazily through her hair. “Sleep. I’ll leave in time.”

  Oh, this was so nice. No wonder even her friends who’d once sworn off marriage claimed to enjoy it. Emma frowned. She wasn’t married. One couldn’t be much farther from being married than she was at this moment.

  “Em? I’ve been thinking.”

  Her heart stopped, and then resumed beating again at a furious pace. As good as he was guessing what she might be thinking, he couldn’t read minds. “Wh…what were you thinking?”

  “I’m going to concede.”

  She blinked, freeing herself from the faerie realm where dukes married headmistresses and they all lived happily ever after in quaint old monasteries. “Concede?”

  “The wager.”

  Emma lifted her head to gaze at his serious, thoughtful expression. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to force Miss Grenville’s Academy to close.”

  Part of her was moved and elated, but the other part was somewhat…annoyed. “That’s good,” she said. “You’ve become a little enlightened, anyway.”

  A furrow appeared between his brows. “I thought you’d be happy to hear it.”

  “Oh, I am.” She sat up.

  He sat up. “No, you’re not.”

  “I am. Really. It’s just…” Shut up, Emma, she told herself. Don’t press your luck. “It’s very nice of you to say that. Thank you.”

  His frown deepened. “What?”

  Blast it all. “Your instruction to your students to this point has been remarkably candid and helpful, given your position in Society.”

  “Given my position,” he repeated, the low, dark edge touching his voice.

  “You have a unique perspective, I’ll admit. But do you really think that being male makes you better able to prepare those girls to deal with Society than I?”

  He looked at her for a long, silent moment. “You think I’m going to lose the wager?” he asked incredulously.

  She held his gaze. “You already have. You just conceded.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  It was her turn to frown. “You can’t!”

  He smiled, sensuous as sin. “And just who are you going to tell otherwise?” Grey kissed the base of her throat. “And when would you say it happened? You might, just on occasion, try being grateful.”

  “I think you should leave,” she said, wishing proper ladies, just on occasion, were allowed to punch people. “Now. As far as I’m concerned, if you never conceded, the rest of tonight never happened either.”

  Still looking unperturbed, he stood, tall and beautiful in the dim pre-dawn light. “You say that now, but you may have more difficulty convincing yourself of it later.” He dumped his clothes on the bed and shrugged into his breeches. “I know you, Emma. You wanted me. You still do.”

  He might be right, but she certainly wasn’t going to agree with him. “I told you, Grey, I was curious. And thanks to you, I have nothing to be missish about, now.” She grabbed up her nightgown and yanked it on over her head, wishing he would stop acting so damned smug. So the loss of her virginity had been as much her idea as his—he didn’t need to
brag about it. “You certainly aren’t the only man in Hampshire,” she continued with a haughty sniff. “You’re not even the only man at Haverly.”

  Grey was over the bed and grabbing her shoulders so fast she didn’t even have time to gasp. “That is a different sort of game entirely, Emma,” he growled, “and one you don’t want to play with me.”

  “Is it a game only you get to play then, Grey?” she asked, lifting her chin despite her very thin control.

  His gaze searched hers for a long moment. “I haven’t played with anyone else since I met you.” He released her, picked up his coat and boots, and made for the door. One hand on the knob, he stopped. “By the way, Mayburne is going to invite you and the girls to luncheon in the next day or so. Turn him down.”

  Without waiting for a response, he left the room. A few moments later her office door opened and closed. Emma listened for another minute, then sank down onto the edge of her bed. Did his comments mean that he was jealous, or that he was ending whatever lay between them? Had he made her some sort of promise? But what sort of promise could he possibly make to her?

  “Damnation,” she muttered.

  Since she obviously wasn’t going to get any more sleep, she dressed and lit the lamps in her office. A little table sat where her desk used to be, her Haverly report stacked neatly in the middle.

  With a sigh she seated herself and read through what she’d written. Even in its rough form, the plan seemed a good one. Some initial cost was involved in renovations and start-up expenses, which worried her, as did some of the similarities to Grey’s plans.

  A tear ran down her cheek. She should have just let him concede, for the sake of the Academy. It didn’t matter that she enjoyed the contest and didn’t want him to leave Hampshire, or that he was still arrogant enough to believe that he alone could determine the outcome of the wager.