Never Tempt a Rogue: A Rogues' Rulebook Novella

by Christy Carlyle

  “I mean because you were infatuated with the man yourself on the day we arrived at Forsythe Hall.”

  “I wasn’t.” Amy, who rarely took true offense at anything, looked exceedingly put out. “I remarked on his physique, perhaps, but nothing more.”

  “Amy, you found reason to mention the man often. So frequently that your father’s chief duty for me during this party was to keep you and the viscount apart.” Felicity had to admit her task had been much easier than she’d expected. Amy had caught Lord Baxindale’s attention immediately, and she seemed equally taken with the earl.

  “Thank goodness you did.” Amy broke into a grin and then a giggle. “Which brings me to my news. Oh, Fel, I never imagined being so happy.”

  “Let me guess. Lord Baxindale—”

  “Charles. He’s asked me to call him Charles, and he’s invited me to dine with his family next month. Say you’ll come with me, Fel.” Amy reached out and clasped Felicity’s hands. “I’ll need a chaperone.”

  “Of course, my dear.” Felicity grinned. The girl’s enthusiasm was contagious. Despite her own missteps, Amy, at least, was well on her way to making a fortuitous match.

  “Unless…” Amy chewed at her bottom lip, an unladylike nervous tic that Felicity feared she’d imparted. “Maybe you’ll receive an invitation of your own from Lord Lindsay and be too busy to chaperone me.”

  If any invitation came from Alex, she was duty bound to his aunt to refuse it. But her belly somersaulted at Amy’s words. What if he asked for something more than a clandestine kiss?

  Nonsense. She wasn’t the kind of woman a viscount would court. She wasn’t an innocent. A countess such as Lady Forsythe would never allow Felicity in her home if the truth of her relationship with Thomas was known.

  “Lord Lindsay will offer me nothing, and I will never be too busy for you, Amy.”

  Amy’s news buoyed Felicity’s spirits. She could do this. Two dances with Mr. Buckham, and five more nights spent under the same roof with Alex.

  Then it would all be over.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Patience is a virtue. He repeated the admonition in his head, and it echoed in his father’s grating voice. Though Alex had never been particularly interested in acquiring the virtue before, he could see the benefit of it now. All he truly wished to do was gather Felicity in his arms and kiss her senseless, yet she sat across the crowded drawing room looking oblivious to his presence. Serene, even. As if her body didn’t buzz with the same thrum of awareness he felt whenever she was near.

  She turned to sweep her gaze across the room, and he shot up from the settee like a restless fool to catch her eye. The action wasn’t easy. His aunt had hemmed him in on either side with two young ladies who giggled at every word he said, even when he wasn’t attempting to amuse.

  Felicity cast a look past him, and he turned to see she was about her duty, watching as Miss Huntingdon smiled at Lord Baxindale.

  There now. She’d done her job. One country house party and her charge had caught an earl. The girl and the young aristocrat could barely keep their eyes off of each other, let alone their hands. An engagement would surely follow.

  If he could simply get the woman who’d captured his interest to notice him, he might be able to bring about an engagement of his own.

  Since declaring his intentions to his aunt, he hadn’t had a single moment of doubt. Yet the countess had ignored his desires and insisted on pairing him off with simpering young ladies who elicited nothing in him but an urge to escape their company. Either that or she sought to distract him, sending his uncle to engage him for a horseback ride across the meadow or a spot of fishing down at the estate’s well-stocked pond. At dinners she placed Felicity’s name card at the end of the dining table, so far away he couldn’t manage of glimpse of her without climbing onto the table. Which he was sorely tempted to do.

  He strode to a spot near a window that looked out onto the estate’s garden. Night had fallen and the glass served as a mirror. The reflections of those gathered to socialize were clearer than the lanterns lit among the maze of shrubbery outdoors.

  As he studied Felicity’s reflection, he considered all he’d observed about her in the past few days. Beyond the flashes of fiery spirit he adored, he detected a deep loyalty to her cousin, a kind of familial unity that he and his brother had never achieved. He knew she loved books, but she seemed quite fond of flowers too. When they’d all taken lunch in the garden, he’d noted that she could not pass one without stopping to smell its scent or touch its petals. She was a considerate woman, effusive in her gratitude toward the servants, who were alternately mortified or gratified by her notice.

  “Let’s have a game of charades!” His aunt seemed determined to never allow her guests more than twenty minutes of uninterrupted conversation. “We must separate into two groups. Louisa and Miss Huntingdon, come sit next to me. And Miss Beckett too.”

  Alex turned to see if she’d comply. Clever lady that she was, Felicity had managed to excuse herself from many of the sillier entertainments his aunt devised. She didn’t jump up to respond to his aunt’s command, but sat looking glum and pensive. No doubt coming up with a reasonable excuse. Just as he was the verge of stepping in to offer some reason for her to bow out, he heard his cousin’s overloud whisper.

  “Must we include her, Mama? She’s just the chaperone.” Louisa matched her words with a narrow-eyed glare in Felicity’s direction. Clearly Louisa knew something of Felicity’s past with Lord Kenniston.

  Alex hated that Felicity heard the harsh words. Her back stiffened before she rose from her chair and walked, head held high, toward his aunt and cousin. Stopping at the edge of the settee, she said, “I’m sorry, but I am feeling unwell, my lady. Would you excuse me from this game?”

  After asking her question, Felicity offered Louisa a pointed look and then spared a single glance for Lord Kenniston, as if to make clear that the game of jealousy was the one she truly did not wish to play.

  “Yes, of course, Miss Beckett.” His aunt offered a tight smile. “Entrust Miss Huntingdon to our care, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

  Felicity nodded and started toward the door in a swift, confident stride. Alex had to force his body still when everything in him longed to follow her. But Miss Huntingdon reached her first. The young lady left his aunt and cousin on the settee and caught Felicity before she could step from the room.

  “Are you all right, Fel?”

  Alex admired the girl’s genuine concern for her cousin. Miss Huntingdon had been close enough to hear every word of Louisa’s spite.

  “I’ll check on you later, my dear.” Felicity clasped her cousin’s hand a moment and then left the room.

  Conversation became chaotic noise as ladies and gentlemen scrambled to take their places for the game. Among the movement and bustle and laughter, Alex stood and stared at the empty doorway. Felicity had taken the warmth from the room, the color and vibrancy, and any possibility that he might enjoy himself this evening. Without her, he could think of no reason to remain. Taking advantage of his aunt’s distraction as the game commenced, he made his escape.

  ***

  Felicity settled into a chair before the fire in her room and massaged the sore muscles in her neck. She’d sat tense and unmoving for so long in that teeming drawing room, struggling not to look at Alex. Even without gazing at him, she could sense his nearness, hear his voice over all the others. Even his scent, despite the dozen other ladies and gentlemen gathered in the room, enticed her. And he did not share her struggle. She could feel his gaze on her every moment she sat immobile, tempting her like a heated touch feathering against her skin.

  Why did he persist in tormenting her when his aunt arranged for an endless supply of pretty, well-bred ladies to sit by him at dinner or converse with him wherever he sat? Not surprisingly, every young miss seemed taken with him. Except Amy, thank goodness.

  Perhaps he was perversely stubborn. Or simply wished to defy his aunt�
�s wishes. Felicity wanted nothing to do with a man who’d use her as a pawn to scandalize his family or prove his ability to disregard convention. Yet she knew it wasn’t true. He wasn’t a cruel man.

  Thomas had been cruel, and he’d never been willing to oppose anyone for her sake.

  The two men were as different as her feelings for them. With Thomas she’d been so innocent. Too easily taken in by his charm and distracted by his handsome face. He’d been the first gentleman to show an interest in her, to make her feel admired and desirable.

  While Alexander possessed a wicked smile, a face almost too appealing in its symmetry, and more charm than any man should be allowed, none of that was why he was forever on her mind. None of it was why he’d captured a piece of her heart.

  She’d sensed kindness in him from their first encounter. He’d teased her mercilessly, but he’d born her questioning and criticism when he, a viscount, had no reason to indulge the rantings of a lowly chaperone. From the first, his interest in her had been apparent and unpolished. He hadn’t tried to charm her, ply her with overwrought compliments, or demand any more than she was willing to give. He had been tenacious but never overbearing.

  There was more to Alex than his beautiful exterior and his rakish reputation. In fleeting moments, she’d caught glimpses of sadness in his expression when he didn’t know she watched him. He’d mentioned the death of his brother, and she’d never had the opportunity to learn more. He was grieving and had inherited the many responsibilities that went with a title and estate. They were precisely the burdens she’d hoped to share with Thomas when she’d first heard of his inheritance.

  As she stared into the burning embers, it was easy to imagine Alex in his role as lord of the Lindsay manor. His kindness and humor would put others at ease. She’d never had wealth or status, but she imagined a man could do a great deal of good with both. Would he? Or was he truly the debauched man she’d heard terrible rumors about before making his acquaintance?

  “Felicity.”

  Goodness. She was so far gone, she heard the man whispering her name.

  “Felicity!” And then louder, more frantic and insistent.

  He was just outside her room, and none of the warning voices in her head stopped her from stepping over to open the door.

  “May I come in?” The gaslight sconce in the hall lit one side of his face. He was still wearing his evening clothes and had an object tucked under his arm.

  Felicity scanned the dark edges of the hallway. No one was in sight, and she reasoned that it was better to welcome him into the room than be caught conversing at her bedroom door.

  “Just for a moment.”

  “This won’t take long,” he assured her with a grin, moving past her and wafting a rich woodsy scent in his wake. She inhaled deeply and struggled to feel any of the apprehension she knew she should. Just for a moment she’d allow herself this private moment in his company and then make him go. Perhaps he’d tell her the cause of the worry she sometimes saw creasing his brow. That alone would be worth the risk of being discovered with a notorious rogue in her bed chamber.

  When he moved into the light near fireplace, she could see that he carried a violin. It seemed an odd companion for his furtive visit to her room, unless he meant to serenade her. As ridiculous as the notion seemed, it set off goosebumps along her arms.

  “I take it you play?” She could see the answer in the way he cradled the polished wooden instrument and its bow in his arms, as if he was intimately familiar with all of its slopes and edges.

  “Since I was a child. One of my few accomplishments, and the only one my father ever praised.” His mouth tensed and he cast her a rueful look. “But only once. My father didn’t wish to soften me or my brother with excessive approval.”

  The admission made her throat tight, and she clenched her hands, wishing to comfort him and the child he’d been. Her father had been gentle and affectionate, and she wondered if there had been someone in Alex’s life to love him as every child deserved to be loved. Perhaps his mother had been kind. He’d learned his amiable nature somewhere.

  “May I play for you, Felicity?”

  When she sucked in a quick breath, he arched one bronze eyebrow and smiled.

  It all made perfect sense. He’d come to her room with a musical instrument and now he wished to play the violin for her. Yet even as she tried to reason it out in her mind, her breath stalled in her chest and a giddy pleasure made her heartbeat race. He wasn’t offering her flowers that would fade or a bauble to display. He was offering her a memory that only the two of them would hold. A part of himself that he wished to share with her. A notorious rogue had just been admitted to her bedroom and rather than ravish her, he was going to gift her with music.

  After she managed a jerky nod, he lifted the instrument, tucked it under his chin, raised the bow, and let loose a sweet resonant sound. She’d heard a violin played before, but never this close. So near the notes reverberated in her chest. Close enough to hear the weight of the bow thunk softly against the strings. He played beautifully, fluidly, as easily as he moved, as enticingly as he smiled. His arm stroked back and forth and his body moved as he played. Finally a series of rising and falling notes took over the piece, soaring up and then crashing low, only to rise again. The sound tugged at her heart, and a sharp ache started there, in the center of her chest. She wanted to let go, to follow that note on its ascent and be free of the fear her heart would be broken again.

  He finished the melody with a flourish and then lowered his violin. Felicity swiped at a tear before his eyes met hers.

  “Beautiful.” She meant the song and more. Him, his tenderness, the gift he’d given her.

  “Playing reminds me of what matters.” He stared at the floor for a moment, thoughtful and quiet. “Beauty, harmony…” He took a breath as if to continue and then chuckled as he looked back at her. “That I am capable of doing something proficiently.”

  “I’m sure you’re a man of many talents.”

  The moment her words were out, his expression changed. He pursed his mouth and swept a glance down her body, as if considering all the ways he could show her his talents.

  She hadn’t meant to speak breathlessly, hadn’t intended to challenge him. Yet he seemed to take the comment as such. He laid his violin down gently and then strode toward her, his gaze locked with hers.

  When he reached out to slip an arm around her waist, Felicity didn’t resist. She moved in closer and pressed a hand to the warm, firm wall of his chest.

  “Promise you’ll always encourage me so sweetly.” He bent his head to nuzzle her neck as he spoke, his hot breath puffing out against her skin.

  “W-why do you need encouragement?” From the moment she’d met him, he seemed a man completely aware of his effect on women, thoroughly at ease in his own skin.

  “I dread what lies ahead of me.” He drew back to gaze into her eyes. “The title, the duty, so many looking to me for guidance and wisdom. Do I look like a wise man to you?”

  He looked like a master seducer, with tousled hair, magnetic eyes, and a delicious smile playing across his full lips. But in his eyes, beyond their silvery allure, there was a vulnerability that caused Felicity to reach up and touch his face. She cupped his cheek and felt the tingle of stubble against her palm all the way to her toes.

  “You care a great deal about how well you will carry out your duties. That sounds like what a wise man would do.”

  She meant to soothe him, but he pulled away from her. The moment he stepped toward the fireplace, her arms felt unbearably empty.

  “Duty doesn’t frighten you, does it?” he asked. “You would embrace responsibility, I suspect.”

  “It depends on the responsibility, I suppose.” Felicity frowned, still trying to understand what she’d said to cause him to step away and take all the warmth in her body with him.

  He moved toward her again, and she expected him to explain his odd question. Instead he pulled her into his arm
s and lowered his mouth to hers. He didn’t hesitate or hold back, didn’t wait for her to open to him. He tucked one hand against the small of her back and let the other roam, caressing her cheek, her neck, then lower to press his palm to her breast.

  “I want you,” he said against her mouth before nipping at her lower lip. “I need you.”

  She lifted a hand to thread it through his hair, to pull him closer. But then, as he had a moment before, Alex pulled away. He eased out of her arms and took her face between his hands. They were trembling.

  “Think on that, Felicity.”

  Without another word, he released her, retrieved his violin, and slipped out of her room.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Alex had been staring so long at the ballroom doors that the array of colorful ladies’ gowns and stark black and white gentlemen's evening suits were merging into a muddled kaleidoscope.

  He sought only one color. And one woman.

  Amelia assured him that Felicity would be wearing periwinkle. He now knew it was one of her favorite flowers, along with violets and lilacs. All purple-hued blooms. Purple was her favorite color. He’d been collecting every scrap of information he could glean about Felicity.

  According to her chatty cousin, Miss Beckett had learned about flowers and herbs from tending her family’s gardens and assisting her father to blend medicinal remedies. After her mother’s death, Felicity had taken on many household duties, and apparently she was a particularly good cook. His mouth watered when Miss Huntingdon described the various dishes at which her older cousin excelled, though he couldn’t be sure whether it was the mention of teacakes or the idea of Felicity dusted in sugar that made him salivate.

  Felicity. She finally entered the ballroom, stealing his breath and sharpening his purpose. He still wished for the waltz she’d declined during the first dance, but tonight he wanted more than to take her in his arms for a turn around the ballroom. He needed to speak to her, to make his feelings plain. To ask her one essential question.