The Dangerous Love of a Rogue

by Jane Lark

  Awe and emotion gripped him.

  He could not quite believe she was here.

  A lopsided smile titling his lips he bent and caught her up in his arms. She gripped his shoulders. “Andrew!”

  “I omitted to do this before, didn’t I? It was remiss of me. A bridegroom should carry his wife across their threshold.”

  The doorman grunted his amusement, stepping aside.

  Damn the pain in his rib, despite Marlow and his bitter words and violence, Drew was going to make her happy. He would prove them wrong and make Mary love him more.

  Chapter 21

  Mary laughed, smiling at Andrew, looking into his eyes which were dark in the low light. He was a day late, but the gesture touched her heart. She could still not believe he’d come tonight, although she was unsure why he had. Yet even if he’d come only because Lord Brooke wished to chase after Emily, Andrew had sat with her, not his friends.

  In the two seasons she’d spent in town she’d never seen him at such an event. He’d even eaten among her family. But then it had all gone wrong. She wished he’d not brought his friends to speak to her, then her father would not have become angry, and she wished his friends would leave Emily alone.

  Yet Andrew was right, Emily would be safe, she was chaperoned – as long as she did not fall for Lord Brooke’s charm, as Mary had fallen for Andrew’s.

  That charm flowed about her as he carried her upstairs.

  When they’d played chess and dressed together today, she’d glimpsed how their marriage may be, and tonight she’d felt one of a couple. Now…

  She watched his face as he carried her. His eyes reflected the light of the lanterns in the hall.

  Her husband was a complex man. “You value your friends, don’t you?” she said, as they reached the landing.

  He glanced at her. “I value them yes, they are like brothers.”

  “How long have you known them?”

  “Since school, we were boys together.” He withdrew a key from his pocket and opened the door, balancing her on his knee and his forearm.

  “Kate, my sister-in-law’s, brother was John’s best friend at school.”

  “Your brother’s man of business? I didn’t know he’d been Pembroke’s friend.” Andrew carried her in, over their real threshold. A maid must have been into the room. A single oil lamp had been left burning by the door.

  “Kate played with John and Philip. I was too young.”

  “What exactly are you saying?” He laughed, as he let her legs swing gently to the floor.

  She faced him.

  A tender smile pulled at his lips. It spoke of love. Was it a lie?

  “Do you like my friends now, or are you thinking about liking them?”

  “I am thinking about getting to know them and judging them for myself.”

  “A suspended sentence, then.”

  He could be fun when he wished to be, and sweet, and kind…and he’d no reason to be false now, he had her money…She did not understand him.

  “And my judgement, Mary? Where do I stand?” His light brown eyes looked at her.

  She turned away slipping off her shawl, setting some distance between them. She would not admit she loved him when she was not sure what he felt. “You are my husband…” She laid her shawl over the back of a chair and looked back. “Do you want me to pour you a drink?”

  He still stood by the door, looking as though he tried to solve a puzzle. “That is a very wifely offer. Yes, I will have a drink.”

  “Brandy?” she asked, as she walked to the decanters.

  “Yes, please.”

  She heard him remove his hat, gloves and then his evening coat. She did not look back.

  His hands slipped about her waist and his lips kissed her shoulder. The decanter wobbled as she set it down.

  “Do you want me to ring for some water for tea?” His breath touched her ear.

  She turned, forcing him to step back as she held out his drink. “No, the maids will be in bed, I would not wish to wake them. I’m not thirsty.”

  His gaze travelled over her expression as he took the glass. “Have I taken you from heaven Mary and brought you to hell, to live with me?”

  Sometimes he said the strangest things, but the words proved that he was leagues deep. Her fingertips touched the dark purple bruise about his eye. “Does it hurt?”

  “A little.” He took her hand from his face and drew her towards a chair, a roguish smile playing on his lips.

  Once he’d set his drink down he sat and drew her down onto his lap. Then he reclaimed his drink and sipped from the glass.

  She touched his bruised eye, again and then pressed a kiss beside it.

  His smile broadened as he moved her hand to his jaw. “It hurts here too.”

  She leaned to kiss his jaw. “Did Papa and John hurt you much when they hit you?”

  “Now she asks…” His voice rang deep. “I’m sure you do not care if they did. I believe the word is comeuppance.”

  “You were a day late in carrying me over the threshold. I am a couple of days late in asking if you were hurt. We’re even…”

  He brushed strands of her hair back from her face, while he took another sip of brandy.

  “You did not hit them…” She began unpicking the puzzle. Why had she not noticed that?

  “That would have been unjust, don’t you think?” He looked down and stared into the amber liquid in his raised glass. “If I was your Papa, or your brother, I’d have punched me too.” Her gaze lifted again. “In fact if anyone took you from me now I would reap carnage just as they did.”

  Her fingers pressed against his midriff, as she moved to get up.

  “Ow! God.”

  She stopped moving. “What is it?” Her palm still rested against his side.

  “Your dear Papa, broke my rib, Mary.”

  She slid off his lap and stood. “You did not say.”

  He sipped his drink, before saying, “When was the moment to mention it? I can take a punch. I’m not complaining. I did seduce you, after all…” He watched her as he spoke, as though judging her response.

  Her fingers clasped at her waist.

  Deviltry flashed in his eyes as he drained his glass, then set it down. “I seduced you because I wanted you, Mary. I am guilty of that. I should have asked for your father’s consent, but we both know I would not have received it, so I planned to elope. I did plan it, from the first. They were right…But at some point along that path I fell in love with you, and I did not even lie to you and say I love you until I did.

  “Yes, I urged you to choose me. But you knew that. I did not lie to you, and you came with me by choice…” He lifted his hand. “Come back, sit down, you were keeping me warm.”

  “I’ll hurt your rib.”

  “I’ll worry about my rib. Come on, sweetheart, sit and talk to me.”

  “We are talking, but I do not think it’s what you wish to do.”

  His smile tilted sideward, turning her stomach to fluid. “Ah, you got me. Come and give me a kiss, then.”

  His presence pulled her physically. It was hopeless pretending she did not want to be with him; she loved him. She’d told Emily to learn from her mistakes, yet she had not learned from them. He’d just admitted seducing her, and she was letting him do it again.

  Yet his words were true. He’d urged her to marry him from the start, and she had known he sought her money as well as her…

  She longed for some control.

  She did not know where she stood.

  Who to believe.

  Whether to trust…

  How much of her heart to give…

  How much of herself.

  But she knew a way to take control of him.

  Catching up her dress she raised it. His smile turned predatory as he realised what she meant to do. He shifted in his seat, so her knees could fit beside his hips, as she straddled him, her raised dress spilling about them.

  “You can get rid of these for a
start,” he said, catching a hold of her hand then tugging off her glove.

  It felt very intimate, to sit astride him, as his fingers worked her gloves free, and she remembered the feel of his fingers inside her. She shivered at the memory.

  He smiled slyly, a moment before slipping one of her fingers into his mouth, then he sucked it gently.

  She did not wish to be submissive, this time. She did not want to be seduced. She would rather seduce him. She wished him to know he could not keep controlling her.

  Pulling her finger from his lips she leaned forward and kissed him, gripping his nape, as he liked to do to her, dominating him. It felt like doling out exquisite justice.

  She slipped the buttons of his waistcoat loose, freeing them quickly, and then she tugged his shirt from his waistband and slid her hands underneath over his skin.

  He flinched.

  She stopped, pulling away. She’d forgotten his broken rib.

  He smiled. “Don’t stop, just be careful.”

  “Let me see?” She pushed his waistcoat off his shoulders. He let her take it off, and his shirt too.

  The dark purple, almost black, bruise, stained half his side. Her fingers ran over it.

  “You should have asked me to bandage it for you.”

  “You would not have done it at that inn. Not after your father and brother convinced you I am evil.” It was petulantly said.

  “You’re not evil. But you do have a devil in you that likes to kick out, Andrew?” She met his gaze. He’d not fought back against them physically, he had not even fought against their accusations. But he had been angry with them and jabbed back at them with words.

  He laughed. “Yes, I suppose. But perhaps that is because people hit out at me.” Then in a deeper tone, he said, “Enough talking.” His hand gripped her nape.

  “Your rib, Andrew.”

  “Darling, physical intimacy is the best painkiller ever. Forget my rib. I’m half naked beneath you…”

  She shook her head, pulling away and rising, if she could not gain the upper hand in that way, she knew there was another. She had contemplated this when he’d used his mouth and teeth on her. It would completely claim him, as he’d claimed her and make it clear that she had the power to seduce him too.

  If her marriage was to work, it would be with her as an equal, and she knew exactly how to make her husband pay attention. He would view her differently, hear her differently, if she took control of him physically.

  He looked disappointed.

  “I have a better idea.” She dropped to her knees and his gaze burned bright, gleaming in the lamplight. This would win his attention and change everything between them.

  Drew forgot pain – forgot about anything but her – this beautiful woman, whom he loved, his wife, as she undid his flap. Hell. This was Mary. The prim Miss Marlow. His fingernails dug into the arms of the chair. But she was not Miss Marlow any more, she was Lady Framlington. Perhaps his name had tainted her. God, his arousal was agony.

  Her dark ebony hair was a vivid contrast against his skin as he watched her.

  This morning she’d cried when he’d made love to her, this evening…

  “You do not have to do this.” His voice only came out on a whisper as her lips encompassed him, and he gritted his teeth and hung on. God in heaven.

  She did not stop, and she did not answer. Lord.

  He slipped the comb out of her hair, set it aside and then pulled out the pins.

  Her hair fell down her back and his fingers slipped through it.

  “Mary, darling,” he groaned.

  She focused on what she did, ignoring his noises and his attention.

  Lord. It was like he didn’t know how to breathe anymore.

  “Mary…”

  His hips took up her rhythm – claiming what she gave.

  Hell and the devil.

  “Mary.” If she did not stop, he was going to come undone. His fingers gripped her arms, to urge her up, but she didn’t stop, ignoring his insistence.

  He could not bear it. His fingers gripped the arms of the chair again and he shut is eyes and gritted his teeth, hanging on, fighting… Lord… Damn. “Mary!”

  He came into her mouth on an overwhelming rush, and could not believe he’d done it. She’d been respectable, an innocent women, until a couple of days ago. He sucked a deep breath into his lungs, his fingers clasping in her hair as he waited for sanity to return. When it did she was already moving away, standing up.

  “Now you know how it feels to be seduced,” she said, leaving him in the chair, hot and drained, and fucking hell… She could seduce him anytime.

  “Mary.” He wanted to rise and follow her but his limbs refused to move.

  She did not come back.

  Damn. Had that been a lesson? If so he had not learned it.

  After a moment, he rose, holding his trousers up with one hand, as he followed.

  She was undressing in the bedchamber. “Mary, I love–”

  “Don’t spoil it,” she answered bluntly, glancing at him.

  He moved across the room, caught her arm and made her look at him. “Mary, I do love you.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes as she looked at him. “You do not have to lie to me, anymore, Andrew, you have my money. I know you like me, that is enough.”

  “I’m not lying!” God, how could she have done what she’d done, then act like it meant nothing. Other woman had done the same of course, but it had never felt like that.

  She stared at him.

  He let her go and she turned away.

  He wanted normality, happiness, he’d hoped to have it with her, yet she knew him for who he was – worthless.

  She’d found him out, and found him lacking.

  Who was he trying to fool? He could not be happy with her. He did not know how to love her. A part of him wanted to go out and find the others. They would still be in the clubs, and he could do with a bloody good drink and a few laughs.

  She sniffed as she let her dress fall to the floor and began awkwardly trying to unlace her corset.

  She was crying.

  Damn. He secured his trousers as he moved to hold her. He could not leave her alone. Doing that would prove her right. But she was wrong – he did love her.

  One hand brushed through her hair, while his other stroked her back. She was his alpha and omega, his first and last, no matter what else. “It will be right between us, Mary. It will. I promise.”

  Her arms gripped about his midriff, holding him too tightly and jarring his broken rib.

  “Let us get into bed,” he said over her hair. If she would not accept his words of love, then he would show her with his body, he had to find some way to make her believe.

  Chapter 22

  When Drew woke the next day, Mary slept. He rose, washed and shaved quietly, in the dressing room, and then once he was clothed he ordered breakfast.

  He ordered bread, eggs, fried bacon, coffee and chocolate, and when it arrived his rooms became full of appetite stirring scents.

  The bed chamber door opened and Mary stood there, her hair mussed, her eyes sleepy and her cheeks strawberry and cream.

  He ignored the impulse to take her straight back to bed, that would be crass.

  Smiling he encouraged her to come and eat instead, even though she was still in her nightgown. He poured her chocolate while she buttered bread, her bare feet resting on the rung of the chair, while her ebony hair spilled about her shoulders over her cotton nightgown.

  He swallowed back another lustful itch as he passed her the drink. How had this beautiful girl become his wife… How the hell had a scoundrel, an unwanted bastard like him, won her.

  They ate in silence for a moment but then her eyes lifted, and her pale translucent gaze fixed on him.

  The food in his mouth lost its flavour.

  Her gaze asked questions he knew he would not want to answer…

  Her gaze caught on Drew’s. He was different when they were alone. What s
he’d done last night, to teach him a lesson, had made him think. She knew afterwards when he’d made love to her, in bed, that there had been repentance in his tenderness.

  But it had made her think too. She’d thought about how happy John and Kate were; how happy all her married cousins were with their husbands. That is what she’d wanted for herself.

  But what she’d said last night was true. He might not love her, but he did care, he was seeking to make her happy today, and he had yesterday.

  His cheeks darkened with a blush, then his gaze dropped to his food.

  “Will you ride this morning?”

  He glanced at her, throwing her a smile, then shook his head. “It’s raining.”

  She looked out the window. It was only drizzling. She looked back at him. “That is not rain. You cannot even call it a shower. It is falling dew. I’ve been riding before in a deluge with Robbie. Riding in the rain is fun. Can we not go together? I have my habit in my trunks.”

  “And when I take you to your Papa’s later and you’ve caught a chill, it will be me he’ll blame.”

  “Papa knows me well enough to realise who to blame, and I have a far better constitution than to catch a chill from a pathetic attempt at rainfall such as that.”

  His eyes shone with amusement. “I ride my carriage horses, I’ve no others; they’re spirited, Mary.”

  “I can handle a spirited horse. I’d be bored by a tame animal.”

  He laughed. “Well that explains much.”

  “Can we ride then?”

  “Yes, we will ride.”

  Oh, she felt happy for the first time in days. It would be wonderful to do something normal. Rising and leaning over she hugged him and kissed his cheek. Then whispered, “Thank you.” Before letting him go and saying, “I’ll go and get ready, will you help me?”

  “Yes. You find out your clothes, I’ll be there in a moment.”

  Their ride was exhilarating, the fine rain only served to keep her cool, although it dampened her hair and habit. Yet due to the rain, they had Hyde Park virtually to themselves so they rode across the lawns at pace, laughing and shouting without a care for what others thought. She felt as good as she always did when she rode at home with Robbie.