At Last the Rogue Returns

by Adele Clee

Although the rain had stopped, Miles’ boots squelched in the sodden earth as he made his way through the woods. The lantern light caught the glint of glassy eyes in the darkness—rabbits and foxes frozen in fear. As Lord Lovell’s house loomed into view, Miles hung back and surveyed the area.

  The house sat in darkness—as quiet and still as if it, too, had drifted into slumber. There were no servants with lanterns scouring the grounds calling out for Miss Lovell—no lords on horseback cantering down the drive to search the surrounding lanes. No hounds sniffing out her scent.

  Did anyone other than Lord Randall know of Lydia’s sudden departure? Had Lord Randall acted alone in locking her in the attic? What if Randall kept his secret? Lord Lovell might rise in the morning to assume his sister had gone out for a stroll.

  Lantern in hand, Miles was about to cross the manicured lawn when he noted a figure moving through the garden. Miles crouched down and extinguished the candle. The man—for the tall, broad shape of the shadow suggested it was so—stopped periodically and scanned the line of trees.

  Another figure appeared from the rear of the house. Miles knew it was a woman from the sway of her hips and the short purposeful strides. Both figures met. Their animated gestures suggested an argument, but no words reached Miles’ ears. They both glanced at the woods. The man hesitated when the woman threw her hands in the air and stormed towards the cluster of trees.

  “My dear, have some sense.” The irate masculine voice pierced the night as he followed the woman reluctantly. “I assure you Miss Lovell is not in the damn woods.”

  The woman’s sharp reply was incoherent. Miles straightened, crept forward and hid behind the broad trunk of an oak tree.

  Lord Randall stepped into the woods, grabbed the woman’s wrist and swung her around to face him. “She’ll come back. Let us do what I suggested and return to the house.”

  “And what if she doesn’t? What of our plans? So much for using your persuasive wiles to seduce her.”

  A brief shaft of moonlight cut through the trees to illuminate the woman’s face. Lady Lovell stood in her silk wrapper, her arms folded across her chest.

  “The blasted chit is so headstrong, so steadfast,” Randall complained. “If she’d let me get within an inch of her, I’m confident I could change her mind.”

  Miles swallowed a growl. If he got within an inch of the bastard …

  “Bed her and wed her. What is so damn difficult about that?” Lady Lovell prodded Randall in the chest. “I want out of that house, do you hear? You promised me we’d travel to Verona and Rome. You promised me I would not have to spend another month living with a man who has the strength and courage of a bloody snail.”

  “Don’t curse, dearest, it is unbecoming.”

  “What would you have me do? What if she tells Cecil what happened?”

  Randall gave an arrogant snort. “Oh, the fool is easy to manipulate. We’ll suggest Miss Lovell is mildly deranged. One has to be suffering from some sort of mental deficiency to spend their days slumming about the countryside.”

  Lady Lovell’s countenance suddenly brightened. “Oh, we could threaten to have her dragged off to the nearest asylum for birdbrained females.” She placed her hand on Randall’s chest. “I want her money, Randall, do you hear? It’s the only hope we have of living abroad together.”

  “Rest assured. I shall have command of her inheritance, at least whatever portion I can. When it comes to seduction, I shall be more persuasive next time.”

  Miles shrank back behind the tree. It took all the strength he possessed to remain hidden. He imagined charging out into the night, fist raised, screaming a battle cry. Oh, he would soon put an end to their mischief. God, he’d make them pay for their spite and greed. But they had underestimated their opponent. It would take more than a devious plan to bring Miss Lovell to her knees.

  Heat filled Miles’ chest. His love for the woman who lay in his bed burned ferociously. Perhaps this sordid discovery would sway Lord Lovell in granting his permission for them to wed. Now Miles was being presumptuous. He had not asked the lady yet.

  Mentally shaking himself back to the present, Miles peered around the tree for he could no longer hear raised voices. The sight that greeted him only roused his ire.

  Lady Lovell gripped a tree trunk. Her wrapper was open and hanging off one bare and bony shoulder. Randall stood behind her. If the sight of his bare buttocks was not an indication of the rampant activities taking place, the man’s sudden grunts and groans proved enlightening.

  Well, things had taken an interesting turn.

  “Oh, Rudolph. Once we’re away from here, we can indulge ourselves without having to creep about in the shadows.”

  The sound of skin slapping filled the air.

  Miles closed his eyes as he felt suddenly nauseous.

  “Oh, sweet nectar of the gods,” the dandy panted. “You drive me wild with your tight little body.”

  “Rudolph, you say the sweetest things. Smack me, darling. Tell me how naughty I am for tempting you to sin.”

  Lord Randall gasped for breath between piggish grunts. “You’re such a naughty minx, sweeting.” A slap rent the air. “Luring your master to partake in these devilish deeds.”

  “You must punish me, my lord.”

  “Punish you? Oh, yes. But there’s no time.”

  “What, so soon?”

  Miles suppressed a chuckle.

  “Forgive me,” Randall said. “It’s all the excitement this evening.”

  “Then come for me, my love.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now.”

  “Oh, yes,” Randall panted. “Yes, that’s it. I’m so close.”

  Hell and damnation, even Miles was willing the bastard to spill himself.

  “Oh, Lord. Oh, yes. Oh, Miss Lovell.”

  Miss Lovell?

  Time stopped for a few seconds, the moment held in frozen stasis.

  “What did you just say?” Lady Lovell’s harpy shriek conveyed her shock and displeasure.

  “Say? What? Nothing. I merely called out your name.”

  “No. You didn’t. You said Miss Lovell.”

  “Lady Lovell,” the floundering lord corrected. “I said Lady Lovell.”

  “Why would you say Lady Lovell when you always call me Arabella?”

  Had Miles not wanted to throttle the ponce he might have pitied the fellow.

  The rustle of material was followed by a disgruntled harrumph. “I knew it,” Lady Lovell complained. “You do hold that silly girl in high regard.”

  “No, not entirely. It’s just a mild attraction fuelled by her stubbornness. I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t relish the prospect of taking her virginity.”

  Well, Miles would put a lead ball between his brows before it got to that point. Even so, the dandy was too late to claim such a prestigious prize.

  “Once, Rudolph. You will do the deed once, do you hear? I can’t imagine it will be pleasant.”

  “No, darling, not pleasant at all,” Randall said, his tone lacking conviction. “But we must all make sacrifices for the greater good.”

  Silence ensued, the stillness broken by the moist smacking of lips.

  “You did say Lady Lovell, didn’t you, Rudolph?” The woman’s voice sounded a little distant now.

  Miles peered around the tree to see the couple heading back towards the lawn.

  “You know I did.”

  “Good.”

  Miles waited for a few minutes before scooping up the lantern and navigating the woods in the dark. Upon his return to the manor, he entered the bedchamber to find Lydia still sleeping. In the morning they would discuss what he’d learnt of Lady Lovell and Lord Randall. It was not safe for her to return to Dunnam Park. And so it seemed he had a delightful new houseguest.

  He undressed, washed his hands and face in the washbowl and slipped into bed next to her. Exhaustion threatened to pull him into a black abyss, just as one particular part of his anatomy woke from its slumber, h
ard and needy.

  Drawn to the heat of his body, Lydia draped her leg over his thigh and snuggled closer. His cock throbbed and swelled in response. Frustrated, Miles watched her for a few minutes, studied every line of perfection, listened to the rhythmical sound of her breathing.

  The urge to make love to her grew, and so he closed his eyes in the hope sleep would take him. As his body relaxed, he couldn’t help but feel a certain trepidation about what the next day would bring. Dariell was right. There was something unsettling in the air, like the earthy smell in the atmosphere that precedes a storm.

  He pushed aside his apprehension. He would start the day on a positive note. He would ask Miss Lovell to marry him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A chill in the air sent a shiver through Lydia’s body. She blinked and opened her eyes. The room was dark and cold. The thick red curtains on the windows blocked out the light. Silence hung heavily beyond the bedchamber door. Finding both her legs dangling out of the bedsheets, she snatched them back inside without waking the handsome figure sprawled beside her.

  Turning to face Greystone and propping herself up on her elbow, she stared in awe at the magnificent sight, fascinated by the dusting of dark hair on his chest, by the delightful cleft in his chin, by the earthy essence of his skin. She had read about the power of an all-consuming love, imagined one needed to be in a laudanum-induced state to experience any emotion to that degree.

  But, no.

  Unless Ada had drugged her tea, she was in full command of her faculties. And yet her mind and body lived in a constant state of euphoria. Love flowed through her like a vibrant white light, heightening her senses, focusing her awareness on nothing but this man.

  Oh, and the feel of his strong body pressing down on her, claiming her, filling her so full that they existed as one entity.

  Heat pooled between her thighs at the thought. She craved that feeling of closeness, wanted to feed this addiction, ride high on a wave of delirious pleasure.

  But she couldn’t wake him.

  And yet she imagined climbing on top of him, letting the warmth of his body chase away all the cold, lonely years. In this constant state of bliss, she had no worries—no fears. Life was full of endless possibilities.

  When she could no longer fight her desire, she placed a shaky palm on his chest. With nothing but a few sheets covering the obvious swell of his manhood, she expected his skin to be cold—but no. Heat radiated in her palm and warmed her all the way to her toes.

  Like a true wanton, she peeled back the sheets gently, drooled at the sight of his hard shaft rising to greet her. Oh, how she itched to touch him. Just once wouldn’t hurt. If a man could sleep with such a throbbing erection, he would hardly feel the light touch of her fingers.

  Lydia stole a peek at Greystone, whose serene expression confirmed he was sleeping. Suppressing a chuckle of excitement, she reached out and ran the tips of her fingers lightly down the length of his shaft. The skin slipped like silk over steel. Captivated by the sensation, she wrapped her fingers around him, hugging his erection. It seemed to glide effortlessly through the curl of her fingers—up and down in an intoxicating rhythm.

  “Oh, Lord,” she whispered as the heat between her thighs burned.

  “Oh, Lord, indeed,” Greystone said in a low, husky voice.

  Lydia’s head shot in his direction just as he raised his hips to push his manhood through her tight fingers. His emerald eyes flamed with desire and he opened his mouth to release a sweet hum of pleasure.

  “Forgive me,” she said, a little panicked at being caught. “I thought you were asleep.”

  “I’m rather glad you did.” He closed his eyes briefly as her hand continued to massage the solid length. “God, Lydia.”

  She loved hearing her name fall from his lips, loved the power that came from having him at her mercy. “Do you like me touching you?”

  “Like it? Hell, I doubt there’s a better feeling in the world.” A grin formed, one that held the confidence of a rogue coupled with a playful boyish charm. “Climb on top of me.”

  Desperate to ease the ache between her thighs, she did as he asked. She almost forgot she was naked until her nipples peaked at being exposed to the cold air.

  Greystone’s arms snaked around her back, and he pulled her close. Her nipples were the first to receive his attention, her neck and lips next. He ravaged her mouth in a wild frenzy. They panted each other’s names, grabbing bare flesh, kissing and nipping anywhere and everywhere.

  “Come up on your knees, love,” Greystone said, tearing his mouth from hers. “Quick.”

  As soon as Lydia did as he asked, Greystone took himself in hand and guided the head of his impressive erection to her entrance. He eased inside her, pushing deeper, deeper still until she was stretched and full.

  His large hands settled on her hips and urged her to move. Under his expert tuition she found a rhythm. But their need for each other left them ravenous.

  Possessed by pure carnal lust, Greystone flipped her onto her back. Thank heavens there were no servants outside. The bed smacked against the wall. They panted and gasped. Their groans of pleasure echoed through the room.

  And then she was on her hands and knees, Greystone’s fingers strumming expertly between her legs as he thrust inside her from behind. Lydia’s world shattered, and she cried out his name. On a guttural groan he withdrew from her body and rubbed his erection over her buttocks.

  They remained there for a moment, drawing in deep breaths.

  “Good God, if this is what I can expect each morning, I’m never letting you leave,” Greystone said before climbing off the bed and returning to wipe her back.

  Lydia collapsed onto the mattress. Her legs trembled, her head was still lost in a cloudy haze. “That’s what comes from being curious.”

  “Hell, be as curious as you like.”

  Lydia smiled. “What time is it?”

  Greystone moved to examine the mantel clock, giving her a perfect view of his pert buttocks. “A little after eight.” He returned to join her on the bed.

  “I feel so exhausted I could sleep for the rest of the day.” Lydia pulled the sheets up over her naked body. “Won’t you stay here with me? Let us forget the rest of the world exists.”

  Greystone took hold of her hand and captured it between his palms. “We have too much to do today. I need to check that Roberts has settled into the gatehouse, survey the progress made to the cottages, go to Dunnam Park and beat Randall to within an inch of his life.”

  Lydia gasped. “There’s no need to punish Lord Randall. I’m convinced my sister-in-law, Arabella, is the one behind his effort to seduce me.” She contemplated telling him about the lord’s toilet habits but knew that would only rouse his ire.

  “About Lady Lovell,” he began, but then paused. “There’s something you should know.”

  “Is it that she’s a spiteful, manipulative wildcat?”

  “Clearly she’s all of those things. She is also an adulteress.” He grimaced as he delivered the news. “I saw her with Lord Randall in the woods, wearing nothing but a silk wrapper. Let’s just say things between them became heated. There was panting involved and a lot of growling.”

  Lydia jerked her head back, and yet she was not shocked. Moralists often protested to disguise their own lack of principles. Poor Cecil. Her brother was a prize fool. And as for Lord Randall, she had always found his character severely lacking.

  “I’m not at all surprised,” she said as Greystone cradled her hand. “Greed flows through Arabella’s veins. Money forms the basis of all her wants and desires.”

  Greystone’s quizzing gaze searched her face. “Then you are aware that Lord Randall’s intentions towards you are less than honourable in that regard. I’m of the opinion he wants to marry you to gain control of your inheritance. They plan to leave the country together and travel to Italy.”

  Anger flared. Oh, again, it came as no surprise, but the need to scupper their plans took ho
ld, the need to make them pay for underestimating their quarry.

  “There had to be a viable reason why Randall would want to marry me after learning of the gossip in London. After all, why would a man with such lavish tastes choose a simple country girl like me?”

  Greystone brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Perhaps because in a world full of liars and cynics you bring hope and honesty. You have the strength of heart to fight for what you believe. You’ll wait in the dark as a devil approaches and refuse to surrender your position. You have the face of an angel, the passion of a goddess. What is not to love?”

  For a moment, Lydia was dumbfounded.

  “Well,” she said, struggling to catch her breath. Her throat grew so tight it took a few seconds to speak. “No one has ever said such nice things to me.”

  “Oh, I could lie here for hours and add to the list. I also suspect Lord Randall is not averse to marrying you for similar reasons. He tried to persuade Lady Lovell it wasn’t your name he called out whilst in the throes of passion.”

  Lydia’s stomach roiled. “He didn’t?”

  “He did. I had to resist the urge to pounce on him and wring his damn neck.”

  “Heavens, the thought of him thinking about me while … Oh, it makes me want to retch.”

  Greystone fell quiet as he studied her with an intensity that made her heart race. “It’s not safe for you to return to Dunnam Park. A hefty dose of laudanum given without consent and you could find yourself in Randall’s carriage on your way to Scotland.”

  While Lydia doubted Lord Randall would go to such extreme lengths, Arabella was capable of anything. “Then if I’ve no choice but to travel to London, I can’t do so in my nightdress.”

  “There is another option. One I hope you may have already considered.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Oh, and what is that?”

  “Greystone!” Mr Drake’s voice boomed through the corridor beyond the bedchamber. “Greystone!”

  “God damn,” Greystone muttered. “Wait here. Don’t move. There is something important I need to say.” He released her hand and slipped out of bed. Grabbing his breeches off the floor and dragging them up over his hips, he marched to the door and exited the room.