A Rogue for Miss Prim (Friendship Series)

by Julia Donner

  If mutual physical pleasure was all he could hope for between them, then it was better than the cold arrangements of most ton marriages. If she considered him a convenience, merely an object with specific uses, he could make himself indispensable in that regard. That way, she’d be too sated to bother with the attentions of others. He hoped. He’d heard of women who were sexually insatiable. Didn’t believe it, and Adele didn’t show that sort of proclivity, but if that were the case, he was still young enough to satisfy those needs. If that were the only way to attach her affection, a thing he found himself wanting more than anything else, satisfying her sexually would be no hardship.

  With that in mind, he set aside his aggravation regarding Sir Harry, strode to the drawing-room door and swept inside. Adele sat on a couch, reading what looked like a tract before she tucked it under a pillow. She stood.

  “Gordon, I hadn’t expected you. Showers said that you had appointments.”

  He captured her wrist and pulled her against his chest. “I changed my mind. Missed my luscious little wife.”

  Just before he wrapped her in a close embrace, he noticed the hint of vulnerability in her face, a fragility he’d never seen before. An unfamiliar need rose up from deep within and he pulled her closer, wrapping her in as closely as he dared without causing her discomfort.

  She exhaled a soft sound of surprised pleasure. Her arms slowly lifted, gingerly trailed up and around his back. Her cheek rubbed against his chest. She settled her full weight against him, trusting, nestling in, like a tender duckling snuggling into the feather comfort of its mother. He identified the emotion that welled up from inside, budding love, and quickly banished it, but not the sweet pleasure of her nearness. It was too soon to relinquish his heart, especially to a complex and complicated female like his wife. As much as he would welcome a marriage like his parents had, he had not come to the point of trusting her. A niggling, distant warning advised him to hesitate on the side of caution.

  “Oh, Gordon, how did you know that this is exactly what I needed?”

  An ache expanded under his heart. He soaked in the sweetness of the moment. “You feel quite fragile. Are you overset about something, Adele?”

  A slight stiffness drew her back from the embrace. The vague ache under his heart blazed, when she whispered a prevarication. “All is well. Perhaps I am a little tired.”

  Sir Harry’s doing. Insufferable prig. What transpired during his call had a draining effect on Adele. Whatever it was, there was a way to banish any fond memory she might have of the visit.

  He leaned back to look down at her adorable curls. “I’ve warned Collyns off, so don’t think you can carry on if he was one of your lovers.”

  She stepped back, her brow now furrowed with a concerned frown. “What are you talking about? I’d never met Sir Harry until today.”

  “Meeting or shagging, I don’t care. It’s a bit too soon to be taking on lovers. You have an obligation, remember?”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  He leaned down to challenge her, nose to nose. “No husband ignores the presence of a man such as Collyns in his house. He’s famous for his by-blows.”

  “You go from ridiculous to preposterous. He was a perfect gentleman, and one such as he has no interest in a squab like myself.”

  It hurt when she belittled herself, a habit he hoped to eradicate. He captured her jaw in one hand. “Squab? You have no idea, do you?”

  She shoved his hand aside to answer. “Control your temper, sir.”

  “I am not angry.”

  “Then listen to yourself. Be content to know that I have no interest in him, nor he in me. Where would I find the impetus, the energy? And for your edification, I have never been drawn to the sort of sordid intrigues you have known.”

  “Meaning?”

  She expelled an exaggerated huff of disgust and flipped her hand in the air. “Affairs, sir! Your reputation is as illustrious as Sir Harry’s.”

  “Damn it, quit calling me sir, and there are no illegitimate children in my past.”

  In her narrowed eyes, he saw a flash of spite come and go. Jealousy? A thrill ignited an already enflamed passion for his feisty wife, until she spat, “Everyone has heard the rumors. Who hasn’t seen Sir Hubert’s heir. The boy is Sir Harry’s image, who at least has proven himself as a…a sire.”

  “Enough!” He grabbed her by the arms, pulling her close, but didn’t kiss her. That was what she expected. “Are you attracted to Collyns?”

  She lifted her chin and returned his challenge with a glare of combined defiance and wariness. “What if I am? What good would it do? I would be better off finding a man who looks like you.”

  “Now that was a mistake, and I never back down from a challenge. Come along.”

  She mumbled something, a token resistance, and stumbled after him. An annoying mix of jealousy and lust whipped him forward into a state of wildness to claim and hold what was his. The minx actually questioned his masculinity.

  They climbed stairs, him pulling her along by a wrist, until they reached his room. He whirled her inside where she stared up at him, wide-eyed. To keep her off-balance, he unknotted the strings of her cap and tossed it aside. When he pushed her back against the door and began to unfasten the fall on his breeches, she gasped and choked out a jumble of nonsense words.

  Wholly taken over with what he was about to make happen, he hauled up her skirts. He sounded shaky as he nipped her lower lip. “Why, love, are you thinking of declining my prerogative?”

  “Uh, no. But standing up? Gordon, there is a bed right over there.”

  “Ah, then it’s merely the unlikely location that encourages you to demur, not the middle of the day shagging of you up against the wall that has you in a flutter.”

  “Well, it’s so…irregular.”

  “But that blush you’re wearing is the sort you get when you’re eager, not when you’re embarrassed, Adele. Ah, how fortunate. You’re not wearing drawers. Expecting me, were you?”

  He lifted one of her legs to his waist but she was too short. He’d done this before but with a tall partner. “Put your arms around my shoulders.”

  When she did, he got both of her legs around his waist, lifted and pressed her to the door. He captured the inelegant grunt she exhaled with his mouth. Discovering her wet and eager became his undoing. His plan to interrogate her while she was caught up by passion gave way to his own need, spurred on when she became the aggressor. Her hands clutched his head. Her mouth took his, while his world turned red then dark with a wildness that matched hers. She let go of his hair to press a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries. She resorted to sinking her teeth into his shoulder to stifle the sounds. He didn’t give a damn about who heard what and let the pleasure roll through and out of him, lost to everything but the heat and passion.

  Praying his legs could still carry them across the room, he held her bottom in his hands and made it as far as the bed. He fully agreed that a flat surface was best, and had initially planned to carry her there, but once started, couldn’t stop.

  Her head lolled off his shoulder when they landed sideways on the bed still clasped in an embrace he couldn’t release. Gazing at her dazed face, he didn’t want to disengage, to leave her in any way. He wondered if there were teeth marks on his jacket. He’d felt her bite through the wool, waistcoat and shirt. Her feral reaction had set him off, a vibrant spark, turning him rougher than he liked, but she did that to him. Every time, all the time.

  How long they rested, he couldn’t tell. One should respect and never disturb the delicious lethargy that followed lovemaking.

  “You asked me something,” she muttered against his shoulder.

  Finding his voice, he mumbled, “I did? Can’t remember.”

  She started to withdraw, and he pulled her hips closer. She relaxed, settling into his embrace and the awkward sideways position. “You’re still firm inside me, Gordon.”

  He hummed a contented reply. Then his eye
s flew open when he recalled his original purpose, before he caught Sir Harry alone with his wife. “Adele, what were you doing in the garden last night?”

  Her entire body stiffened. He could feel her trying to hide her reaction, her dismay at the failure to do so, and felt a spurt of anger. Clasping her close, he rolled so that she was beneath him. When she attempted to squirm free, he shoved his softening erection into her silken wetness and began to harden again. Her eyes widened.

  He nibbled down the side of her neck. She smelled of vanilla and something else, something uniquely Adele. “Now, Mrs. Treadwell, you were about to explain what you were doing mucking around in the garden after midnight. Hiding your love letters?”

  When she pushed at his chest, he pinned her hands over her head. “Let me up, Gordon. This is not—”

  “Not what, love? Conducive to a trusting relationship?” He began shallow strokes quickly in and out, watching as she stared at the canopy overhead, fighting to resist. Her gaze slowly became bleary, turning inward. She turned her head away and into a ray of late afternoon sunlight. The murky beam slanted through the parted curtains and set off sparks within her passion-dazed stare.

  “Oh, Gordon, you’re so strong again. Long and filling me. Yes, like that. It’s wonderful the first time, but the second time, it’s always stronger, more piercing. Oh, you’re shivering. It feels so wonderful when you get excited like that. Sometimes you lose yourself so completely. I like you holding my wrists. Tighter. Like that. Oh, it’s happening…again.”

  She kept talking, making him wilder, senseless. Fearing he’d hurt her, he let go of her wrists and dug his fingers into the bedcovers, twisting the sturdy material in his grip to hold on, to wait for her. She’d kicked off her slippers and rubbed her feet up and down his calves. Beneath him, she stretched like a purring feline, reveling in every thrust as his eroding restraint shoved her across the bed. Blessedly, he heard her outcry and rushed headlong into a darkness where there were no questions, only the exquisite relief of release.

  Chapter 16

  Adele closed her eyes against the sunlight. Feather light touches skimmed across her brow. Strong fingers glided through her curls and rubbed over her scalp. Her eyes opened when he fisted a handful, demanding an answer with a gentle yet strangely disturbing tug.

  “Did I hurt you?” he gently asked. “Was I too rough?”

  “No. I like it that way sometimes.”

  She sensed his relief. He rolled them to one side and cuddled her against his solid length. This was something she’d never expected, the contentment and closeness afterward. Sometimes her eyes would start to sting from unexpected tears from the poignancy. The utter safety within his embrace left her breathless, especially after the sublime ferocity of their lovemaking.

  Before marriage, her impressions of what sex was like bore little resemblance to what happened with her husband. It looked so perfunctory in the illustrations, so impersonal, an almost sterile function. But this gift, the experience of being enfolded in a secure haven, held sheltered in the encompassing clasp of strong arms, she’d never known this. Or she couldn’t recall it. Other than Annabelle’s occasional hugs, there had been no physical affection until Gordon, and he gave it so easily, as if it were not the most extraordinary experience. She’d seen family members exchange hugs, perhaps a little touch of cheeks in greeting, but embracing was not something she’d experienced before marriage. It seemed families did this sort of touching all the time. She hadn’t registered the lack in her life until now.

  He interrupted her thoughts. “Adele, how old were you when you lost your parents?”

  “I’m not entirely sure. Perhaps two or three. I stayed with my nurse until relatives were located here in London. My father had left instructions with the East India Company.”

  “You were sent here all the way from India without a family member?”

  “My ayah brought me, but Vera turned her off. She didn’t trust her.”

  “Why ever not? The woman brought you all the way from India. I should think Vera could have bestirred her lazy arse to fetch you herself.” When she didn’t reply to that, he asked, “How did your parents die?”

  “Black Water Fever. I wasn’t with them at the time.”

  He didn’t ask more and she was content to lie in his arms and lean into the solid wall of his shoulder. When he unexpectedly gathered her closer, her nose got pressed into his partially undone neckcloth. She squirmed a bit. His strength didn’t scare her, but he tended to allow his emotions to take charge at times.

  He relented and eased back. “Sorry, love. I can’t imagine it, being alone like that.”

  “I had my cousins.”

  “Now you’re being ridiculous. I must say that I’ve been fortunate. Father is still alive. Mother, when she was, never missed an opportunity to cuddle or show me off to the company. One would think I was the most novel and extraordinary child ever born and not in any way an ordinary boy. She had many friends, who all agreed with her. I could’ve been a disgusting little swine, but in Mother’s eyes, I was something that bordered on divine.”

  “Ruinously spoiled, I would suppose.”

  He chuckled and buried his nose in her hair. “Ruinously. What is this marvelous scent that you wear? It’s even in your hair.”

  “Something Enid mixes up. She puts it in the bath.”

  “Now there’s a thought. Let’s ring for a bath. I want to watch you bathe.”

  “In the middle of the day? Gordon, they will think you inconsiderate, and I don’t want anyone to find us. Let me up.”

  After a playful growl, he nipped her shoulder. “Perhaps I’m not done with you yet. After all, you questioned my ability to get you with child.”

  She shook her head. “I was being childish. We both know that. Please let me up. It would be horribly embarrassing to be walked in on in this state.”

  “They won’t come up unless called. Showers expressed my instructions that no servants were allowed upstairs.”

  “Gordon, they have to clean the rooms!”

  “Certainly, but only when we are in the breakfast room or when we ring. You didn’t think I’d give them unlimited access, did you? Heavens, woman, I must have no barriers thrown in the way of my unrestricted use of this delectable body. There is an heir to construct.”

  She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, that’s embarrassing.” She lowered her hands to glare at him. “And marginally disgusting. What must they think?”

  “They are servants, Adele. They’re not paid to think. It’s their job to find ways to improve our privacy and comfort. Why are you blushing again? Oh, you’re imagining me watching you bathe. Hold onto that image while I ring for it to be brought up.”

  She clutched his lapel when he started to rise. “No, you will not.” She began tugging free his neckwear and unbuttoning his waistcoat. “There is water in the basin in my room. We can freshen up there and change clothes for dinner. It’s a bit early, but gives us a reason to be in here.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Adele, they know what we’re doing. The whole of London knows. We’ve only been married for weeks, not years, although I fear I’m perpetually addicted to shagging you at the very least three times a day. Sorry, love, am I making you sore?”

  “A little. But I like it.”

  He launched himself over her. “You’ve done it again. This round is entirely your fault.”

  “But I’m sore.”

  He pushed up off her and stood, yanking her to her feet. “There are a plethora of other ways.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And I believe I know someone who has a most instructional manual on that very theme.”

  Chapter 17

  Adele scurried down the back stairs and dashed out into the stable yard, taking advantage of one of the few times Gordon was away from the house. He would be gone for most of the day, allowing her the opportunity for meetings impossible to make when Gordon was about the house. Most of the time, she enjoyed his company and presence
, but her projects suffered.

  She hadn’t tried the lovely hack Gordon had purchased for her, one of many wedding gifts. The elegant gelding turned his head at her approach, big brown eyes watching, chestnut coat gleaming. He’d been given an unusual name, Armada, which she didn’t like. As she stepped up onto the block, she decided to call him Armie.

  Before shifting onto the saddle seat, she tucked her crop under her arm and gathered up her habit’s skirt. Annabelle had insisted on the material, saying that it did “marvelous things” for her eyes. What nonsense.

  Armie never budged, dutifully waiting in place as she draped the yards of dark green velour. She patted his neck after hooking her right leg in place. The bending motion created a crunching sound coming from under her jacket. The groom holding Armie’s head frowned at the sound but said nothing. Since it did not sound like the crunch of leather, she hoped he would suppose the sound came from compressing new stays.

  She took the riding crop from under her arm and held it in her right. She didn’t carry it due to trying out a strange mount. Gordon would never give her less than a perfectly trained horse. She carried the crop for protection. A wicked swipe across an assailant’s cheek would force a release of anyone attempting to take control of the reins, giving her time to dash away. She doubted she’d need the crop this morning, but one never knew. It was wise to prepare for the unexpected.

  The groom tugged his cap when she gathered the reins. “If you please, ma’am. It’ll only take a moment for me to get me horse.”

  “Not today, Josh. I shall be meeting someone shortly.”

  The groom’s eyes darted back and forth. “But Mrs. Treadwell, master will be sore displeased if you go off alone.”