Along Came a Rogue

by Anna Harrington

  She sat up and stretched, her muscles stiff from the ride. A glance outside at the sky confirmed that the weather hadn’t improved.

  “Are we going to stop for the night, or are we driving straight through again?” she asked, concerned both about being caught in a storm and about highwaymen.

  “We’ll stop.” He slid to the bench across from her to give her more room. “We’re far enough away now to be safe, and Hedley needs to rest.”

  “Of course.” They’d stopped just before dawn at an inn to change out teams, to buy food, and apparently, as she discovered when Grey came back to the carriage with a greatcoat for himself and a pair of shoes for her, to literally buy the clothes off the innkeeper’s back. Grey sent word back to Yardley for the maid to travel to London and meet Emily at Chatham House, and Hedley hired a man to be a second driver so that he and Grey could rest between turns in the driver’s seat. After only a short break, they’d driven on, to put as much distance as possible between themselves and whoever tried to burn them alive.

  Emily could use a night at an inn, too. Despite the naps, her aching body craved the softness of a mattress, and her belly longed for a hot meal.

  She sighed gratefully. “I never suspected the thought of spending the night at a posting inn could be so appealing.”

  “A hot meal, a warm hearth,” he drawled as he arched a sardonic brow, “and a room that doesn’t burn down around you in the middle of the night?”

  “Heavenly!”

  As she laughed softly, he grinned at her, his eyes sparkling even in the dim blue-gray light of the rainy day. His smile cascaded through her, all the way down to the singed tips of her toes. Oh my. It warmed her from the inside out, the way no blanket ever could.

  She cleared her throat and glanced out the window to distract herself from how appealing he looked, all travel-rumpled and unshaven, but the mud-streaked glass made it impossible to see anything. “Do you think—”

  The vehicle lurched, the wheels stopping so suddenly that she sailed off the leather-cushioned seat and across the compartment, straight toward him.

  With a fluid motion, he caught her and pulled her down onto his lap. She gasped in surprise and threw her arms around his neck.

  They’d stopped. Everything around them came to a sudden halt. Except her heart, which now pounded so fiercely she was certain he could hear it. Or worse. That with her body pressed against his like this that he’d be able to feel it.

  His mouth hovered close to hers, their eyes level as she sat perched precariously across his thighs with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her heart began to beat impossibly faster.

  “Are you all right?” he murmured, his eyes flicking down to stare at her mouth before glancing back up to hers.

  As the heat of his breath fanned her cheek, she nodded jerkily. “I’m the one who landed on you.” She forced a nervous smile, as if sitting on the lap of a handsome army major was the most ordinary thing in the world. But she’d die of mortification if he ever suspected the fluttering for him low in her stomach or how her breasts grew heavy as they brushed unintentionally against his chest. “Are you all right?”

  “Just fine,” he answered, although she could have sworn she saw a fleeting grimace of pain on his face. “Perhaps I should check outside to see—”

  With another swaying lurch that once again left her clinging to him to keep from falling, the carriage rolled forward.

  “What happened?” she whispered.

  Her cheek brushed against his. At the delicious sensation of his beard stubble scratching her skin, a tingle swept through her, landing straight between her thighs and blossoming the intimate ache growing there. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember to breathe.

  “We’re moving again.” His voice tickled her ear, making her tremble. “We must have been stuck.” But his arms didn’t loosen their hold around her, his hands on her back didn’t drop away. The warmth of his body seeped through her thin dressing robe and stirred a prickling heat beneath her skin that made her remember how good it felt to be in a man’s arms, to have her body pressed hotly against another’s.

  “Oh.” Suddenly her mouth went dry, and she licked her lips to wet them.

  “Mrs. Crenshaw,” he rasped out hoarsely.

  “Yes?”

  He cleared his throat. “You’re still sitting on my lap.”

  “Oh!”

  Embarrassed, she tried to scoot away, but her off-balance position worked against her. Her feet failed to find purchase on the floor, and she could do nothing more than wiggle her bottom against his thighs.

  And he wasn’t helping. Instead of setting her on her feet, Grey sucked in a mouthful of air between clenched teeth and just sat there, his body stiffening.

  “Emily,” he ground out.

  “I’m trying, but I can’t get my balance to—”

  “Stop wiggling!”

  She froze.

  Slowly, she raised her gaze to look at him. And lost her breath. “Oh,” she whispered, her swirling mind unable to think of anything else except the raw desire she saw in his eyes. She nervously licked her lips again, and this time, when his gaze fell to her mouth, he didn’t look away.

  Her heart pounded fiercely now for a whole new reason. Grey wanted her…didn’t he?

  Oh, she simply didn’t know! What she knew about men could fit on the head of a pin, and even that had proved so very wrong before.

  But she understood Grey now, knew what kind of man he was and what goodness lay in his heart. If he could make her lips tingle with only his hot gaze, then surely…

  Or surely not. Because he hadn’t tried to lay a hand on her, not once during all this time they’d been alone. For heaven’s sake! They’d been more intimate five years ago when he’d given her that first kiss. And even now confusion poured through her at the way he stared at her mouth so longingly but made no move to kiss her.

  Blast it! Did the infuriating man want her or not?

  Unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, she gave a little wiggle. Just a small, teasing movement of her bottom against his hard thighs to test his reaction—

  With a curse beneath his breath, he grabbed her waist and forced her to sit still. But she felt him tremble, his breath growing shallow and shaky. And she knew for certain…she knew—he wanted her! After all these years, she could barely dare to believe it, but the rush of empowerment was intoxicating, the electric thrill that pulsed through her simply delicious. For the first time in two years she felt alive and feminine, alluring and beautiful, and all because of him.

  “Nathaniel,” she whispered.

  “Mrs. Crenshaw,” he forced out between clenched teeth.

  She smiled at the contradiction of this man, of the gentleman and the rake warring inside him. So this was how it was going to be, was it? The gentleman in him was clinging to some misplaced vow he must have made to Thomas not to touch her or to some code of honor among army comrades. But the rake wanted her, she saw it in his eyes—for God’s sake, she felt it pressing hard against her bottom!—but he wouldn’t let himself act on that desire.

  Perhaps, she admitted to herself with a pang of disappointment, it was better if he didn’t. No matter how much she wanted him, she couldn’t reveal herself completely. The danger to all of them was still too great.

  But that didn’t mean she couldn’t tease him just a bit and make him finally admit that he’d been wrong to ignore her for the past five years, that she was far more now than just the girl he’d kissed in the garden and so quickly forgot. And anyway, they were in a carriage, for goodness’ sake; it wasn’t as if anything truly intimate could happen here.

  Oh yes. It was time for another lesson.

  “Emily,” she corrected, then audaciously slid her fingers through the hair at his nape. Goodness, how soft it felt when the rest of his body was so gloriously hard. “My name is Emily.”

  “Mrs. Crenshaw,” he returned tightly.

  Fighting back a smile of amusement, sh
e twirled his hair around her fingers and asked with false innocence, “Am I too heavy for you?”

  A pained expression of half desire, half annoyance darkened his face. “No.”

  “Did I hurt you when I fell on you?” She trailed her fingers along his jaw to his chin.

  “No,” he repeated, but this time, his voice hitched.

  “Hmm.” Her eyes stared at his sensuous mouth as she daringly brushed her thumb across his bottom lip, earning her a sharp inhalation of his breath. The ache inside her grew hotter, and all the blood in her body seemed to pool between her thighs. She was doing this to teach him a lesson, but if she wasn’t careful, she’d be schooled herself on the lessons of playing with fire. “Is it uncomfortable having me on your lap?”

  “Very,” he bit out.

  Laughing softly at that, she leaned against him to lightly brush her breasts against his chest, and when he shuddered, she thrilled with her newfound power over him. She knew she should stop, knew she was flirting with danger even now, but she’d wanted this moment too much, and for too many years, to stop now.

  She pressed her lips to his neck, to that spot she’d longed to kiss since last night when he entered her sitting room with his shirt neck falling open, and rained soft kisses across his skin. He groaned, and she couldn’t help but wonder…who would win, the gentleman or the rake?

  “If I’m making you uncomfortable,” she taunted against his neck in a sultry whisper as she yearned for his kiss, to be in his arms as his lips captured hers, “then perhaps you should do something about it.”

  “All right.”

  Without warning, he lifted her from his lap and set her down on the opposite bench with a teeth-jarring thud.

  “There.” He sat back and folded his arms across his chest, glowering at her. “Now I’ve done something about it.”

  Gaping in astonishment, Emily stared at him. She couldn’t believe he’d done that!

  Then a bubble of laughter escaped her. Her hands flew over her mouth to keep it back. But she was unable to stop it, and soon her shoulders shook with uncontrolled mirth.

  She laughed with abandon. It felt good, oh so very good! All the fear and worry of the past five months lifted from her chest. Her body seemed to float with the emotional release, and all the relief made her absolutely giddy. For the first time in two years, she felt happy and free, and she dared to let herself hope that perhaps, just perhaps, the future wouldn’t be so bleak after all.

  “Brat,” he warned, his voice low and angry.

  “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean—” she choked out between laughs.

  Her life was in danger, her future uncertain, and the man she’d adored since she was sixteen just physically rejected her—their situation was so ridiculous, so ludicrous that she simply couldn’t help laughing! Even with Grey glaring at her from across the compartment.

  “But you have to admit that we’re quite a pair, aren’t we?” She shook her head as her laughter faded into soft giggles. “You’re a rake who won’t touch me, while I’ve been longing to kiss you again since I was sixteen.”

  “You’re not sixteen anymore,” he snapped out.

  “And you’re not my brother. For God’s sake, Grey! I know you want to kiss me…so let yourself kiss me. No harm can come of that.” She pressed the back of her hand against her lips as the last of the laughter died away, and she admitted quietly, “And it would be nice.”

  He leaned toward her across the space between the two benches, his elbows resting on his knees. “You think I want to kiss you?”

  She froze at the dangerous tone in his voice and the intense flicker deep in his eyes. The little hairs along her arms stood up in warning. Heavens, she was certainly playing with fire now! Yet she so desperately wanted to lose herself in his heat.

  She swallowed. Hard. “I know you do.”

  It was his turn to laugh. “Oh, brat,” he drawled in a husky voice that rumbled darkly through her like thunder. “I want to do so much more than just kiss you.”

  She stared at him in the blue-gray light, her pulse pounding in her ears with every racing heartbeat.

  “I want to splay you across my bed and lick every delectable inch of you until I’ve had my fill. I want to nibble at your throat and breasts until you shiver, stroke my hands between your thighs until you spread yourself open wide and beg to be taken. I want to taste the sweetness of your warmth as I plunge inside you and hear your cries when I’ve satisfied my hunger.” The gleam in his eyes was predatory. “And it certainly wouldn’t be nice.”

  With heat shamelessly flushing her cheeks, she momentarily forgot to breathe. She should have been shocked by his words, should have scolded him for saying those things, or slapped him, or…Yet it wasn’t shock she felt, but pulsing arousal.

  He looked undeniably masculine as he lounged on the bench, his waistcoat half-unbuttoned and his neck rakishly bare to his shirt collar, his long legs kicked out casually in front of him. Shivering even now from the hot need flaming inside her, she craved him. She wanted to perch on his lap again and lick her tongue down into the patch of chest revealed by his open collar, wanted to strip away his shirt and waistcoat completely and let her fingers explore the hard muscles beneath. And God help her, she wanted to offer herself to him just as he described, as a willing and wanton feast.

  But she could never have him now. He’d arrived five months too late.

  “I’m not a nice man, Emily,” he continued. “I use women for my own pleasure. I seduce them, take whatever enjoyment I can in them, and never give a thought to their feelings or needs. If they’re satisfied, it’s only because it brought me pleasure to make them so.”

  She shook her head, staring at him defiantly. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You should.” He leaned forward to punctuate his words. “And you should know that you’d be no different. The perfect woman, in fact, since you’re exactly the kind of woman I prefer…a beautiful society widow, one who would never consider being seen with a rogue like me in public let alone want to leg-shackle me. A woman who cannot complain publicly when I ignore her after I’ve grown bored of being inside her.” He sent her a disdainful look that she might ever think of him as anything more than he was. “Whatever delusions you’ve been clinging to about me, you need to get them out of your head right now.”

  Her eyes burned, her vision growing blurry. “I have no delusions about you.”

  “Good. So don’t ever tease me again about kissing you, brat. Because I won’t stop with just a taste of you.” As he leaned back, his eyes gleamed wolfishly, and she shuddered at the unrepentant hunger she saw in their dark depths. “I’d devour you.”

  Giving her a last hard look, he turned his face toward the window.

  She bit her lip hard, fighting back the knot of wretchedness rising in her throat but unable to stop the trembling that gripped her. Her hands shook as she looked down at them in her lap, overwhelmed by the harshness of what he had just told her about himself and her own shameless arousal to it. He’d laid himself bare, telling her the most horrible things…but she knew from Thomas’s letters that they were true.

  Shame flooded through her that he was so brutally honest about himself while she still kept secrets that could endanger both their lives. “Grey,” she whispered before her courage could leave her, “I need to tell you…”

  “What is it?” he growled but didn’t look at her.

  “The reason I can’t—”

  The carriage jerked again, and both of them grabbed for the handholds to keep their seats as the vehicle gave a loud creak and groan, then stopped. The wheels dropped, and the carriage settled to a leaning stop toward its side.

  After a moment of stillness, Hedley flung open the door and peered inside, his face grim. “We’re stuck,” he explained succinctly.

  Sliding a sideways glance toward Emily, Grey muttered, “You have no idea.”

  He pushed himself off the seat with a curse, then leaned out the door and peered arou
nd the side of the carriage toward the team and front wheels.

  “Dalton, how bad is it?” he demanded, calling up to the newly hired driver, still perched on top of the rig.

  “Too bad fer us t’ push out, I’d say,” Dalton answered in a thick Yorkshire accent. “We’ll be needin’ a second team t’ haul ’er out, seh.”

  “How far to the next inn?”

  “Jus’ down th’ way a bit, couple o’ miles.”

  Grey glanced down the road. “We can get there on foot?”

  “Aye, seh. A’ hour’s walk o’ two, most like.”

  Grey nodded grimly and dropped to the muddy ground. “We’ll walk from here, then.”

  Emily peered out the door after him. A swamp had replaced the road. Mud came up past the horses’ fetlocks, and the entire surface was so slippery that the carriage had slid toward the edge of the road and into a muddy hole that was impossible to drive through. The front left wheel lay buried to the axle.

  He gestured for Hedley. “I’ll need you to come with Mrs. Crenshaw and me. I want safety in numbers out on the road.”

  “Aye, Major.”

  He glanced up at the driver. “Dalton, you’ll wait here with the carriage, and Hedley will come back with a second team to pull you out.”

  The man nodded. “Aye, seh.”

  “Let’s go, then, Major.” Hedley glanced glumly at the gray-black sky as he tossed up a pistol to Dalton. “It ain’t gettin’ any sunnier.”

  Thinking that Hedley’s comment might be the grandest understatement she’d ever heard given the dark storm clouds gathering on the horizon and the increasingly cold wind, Emily took Grey’s proffered hand and let him help her down from the leaning carriage.

  When her feet touched the mud, she lost her footing and slipped. His hands instantly encircled her waist to catch her. He lifted her easily into his arms and carried her to the center of the peaked road where the mud was shallower. He released her to the ground, and she shivered as her breath clouded the cold air.

  “Only an hour’s walk,” he assured her. He shrugged out of his greatcoat and held it open for her.