Every Bit a Rogue

by Adrienne Basso

  “Good afternoon, Jon.”

  “Emma.”

  He approached, and the room was filled with the sound of a deep, low-throated growl. Jon and Sir Galahad stared warily at each other.

  “Oh, by the way, I’ve gotten a dog,” she said, pulling her chin a bit higher.

  Jon’s gaze shifted to her. “So I see. Where did you find him?”

  “He found me.”

  Jon’s brow lifted in curiosity. “Are you certain that’s a canine? He looks more like a small pony.”

  “His name is Sir Galahad,” she replied, ignoring the jibe, refusing to admit that she had thought the very same thing when she had observed the animal from a great distance. “He’s smart and loyal and friendly. Well, mostly friendly. ’Twould probably be wise to approach him cautiously, just to be sure he likes you.”

  Jon halted. “Why do you sound mildly pleased at the idea of him taking a bite out of my hide?”

  “Do I? How ridiculous.” Emma felt her cheeks color as a symphony of emotions rioted through her. It would serve him right to get a nip from the dog for neglecting her so thoroughly this morning.

  “Our dogs are kept in the kennels,” Jon mentioned casually. “’Tis a far more preferable arrangement than having them lounging on the antique furniture.”

  “Is it?” Emma reached over and petted Sir Galahad’s chest. “I find this far more appealing. He is my companion and therefore needs to be near me.”

  “He’ll terrify the servants,” Jon observed as he inched closer.

  “They’ll get used to him,” Emma countered.

  “He’ll require as much food as three dogs,” Jon grumbled.

  “We can afford it.” Emma twirled her fingers through the animal’s soft fur. “I concede that you have some plausible objections, but I have my heart set on keeping him. He can be my bridal gift from you.”

  A look of doubt crossed Jon’s face. “Most husbands gift their brides with jewelry.”

  “Goodness, Jon, I should think that by this time you would agree that I am not a usual bride and ours is far from a usual marriage.”

  Ah, well, that shut him up. She glanced at her husband beneath her lowered brows, wondering if her bluntness had offended him. And then became annoyed with herself for caring.

  “Perhaps we are an untraditional couple on occasion. But hopefully not a cynical one.” Jon reached into his coat pocket. “I had business in the village early this morning and then I needed to consult with Norris at the workshop. You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t have the heart to wake you. I was going to leave this on the pillow for you, but decided I’d rather present it to you myself. Your second bridal gift, madam.”

  Emma put down her book and accepted the long velvet box he handed her. Sir Galahad lifted his head, sniffing hopefully, quickly losing interest when he deduced the mysterious box contained no food.

  “Thank you, Jon,” she said.

  His lips twisted upward in an ironic smile. “You haven’t opened it.”

  Emma lifted the box lid, gasping when she beheld the stunning diamond necklace inside. There were seven large diamonds, joined together by a slender diamond-lined chain. They glistened and sparkled, looking luminous in the afternoon light.

  “I . . . uhm . . .” Emma stammered.

  “Do you like it?” he asked softly.

  “It quite takes my breath away,” she answered truthfully.

  “Yes, but do you like it?”

  Emma felt a rush of heat climb up from her chest. She rarely wore jewelry and never anything this magnificent. “Has it been in your family for many generations?”

  “No. It was purchased especially for you.”

  Emma pressed her hand against the churning sensation in her stomach, not wanting to admit how much the gesture stirred her. Not the exorbitant cost of the gift—though it was magnificent. She would have been equally content with a simple string of pearls.

  Or eating breakfast this morning with her husband. ’Twas yet another example of how little Jon really knew her. Still, he was, in his own way, trying.

  “Thank you,” she said again.

  His expression turned serious and she knew this was not the reaction he was expecting. Jon gestured to the dog, snapping his fingers, and Sir Galahad jumped off the settee.

  Jon immediately took the animal’s place. His pleasant, masculine scent filled her nostrils. “If you wish, you can exchange the necklace.”

  Emma blinked, but then pulled herself together. She was being ungracious. And rude.

  “Honestly, I’m uncertain where—or when—I would wear such an extraordinary piece of jewelry,” she admitted, expelling a long breath. “But it will always hold a special meaning for me because you chose it.”

  He stared at her for a moment, the intensity of his gaze spreading through her like a warm breeze, making her squirm. Hoping for a distraction, Emma glanced over at Sir Galahad, but the dog had settled himself comfortably in the corner and was snoring contentedly.

  Drat! Where was a piece of crisp bacon when one needed it?

  Emma knew this was Jon’s way of apologizing for his neglect this morning. She was, of course, willing to accept the apology. The necklace, however, was completely unnecessary; indeed, in a small way she almost felt insulted that he thought it was necessary to bribe her.

  She would far prefer that they were simply honest with each other and spoke their mind. Hurt and anger left unspoken over time could easily turn into animosity.

  And no amount of diamonds could overcome those feelings.

  Chapter Twelve

  Emma leaned closer, her face within a hairsbreadth of his own. Her expression hinted at her inner turmoil and Jon surmised his neglect of her today was the cause.

  The necklace had distracted her—momentarily—but the darkness in her eyes told Jon that she was not appeased. No, Emma had not reacted how he had anticipated, with excitement and delight. Dianna would have been positively giddy with such a gift, trying it on immediately, preening before a mirror to see how it looked.

  He needed to remember that Emma was nothing like Dianna. Hell, she was nothing like any woman he had ever known. And therein lay much of her charm.

  He shouldn’t have left her bed while she slept and then abandoned her for the better part of today. Guilt crept upon him. By rights she should be angry and upset with him. He had been inconsiderate.

  He hadn’t meant to be. Their night together had been an unexpected joy, wholly satisfying on a physical level, and unexpectedly deep on an emotional level.

  Most surprising. He had believed such feelings were lost to him after Dianna’s betrayal.

  It had jarred Jon learning that they were not, putting him off-balance. To combat the feeling, he had left her bed as dawn was breaking, dressed and gone to his workshop. By burying himself in his work and putting a physical distance between them, Jon had hoped the time apart would help clarify his feelings.

  It hadn’t.

  Transfixed now by the glittering eyes that held his with such intensity, Jon did the one thing that seemed right and natural. He dipped his head lower until his lips brushed Emma’s.

  She gasped, but did not deny him. Slowly, her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned closer, responding to his overture, returning his kiss. Her mouth was tender and sweet, and he took great pleasure in the taste of her lips and tongue.

  He raised his hand, his fingertips tracing the smooth line of her brow. She swayed slightly and he could feel her hands curling tightly into the fabric of his jacket. He fought to control the urge to haul her fully against his body, as he deepened the kiss. Sensual pleasure ran through him, sending the blood pounding through his veins.

  Behind her, Jon heard a low, distinct, canine growl. Emma broke away and turned her head to look over her shoulder. The large dog had awakened and abandoned his position in the corner. He stood beside his mistress, hackles raised. His mouth was closed—at least he hadn’t bared his teeth—but the warning growl emanating from
deep in his throat was quite menacing.

  “Sir Galahad is most protective,” Emma said with a hitch in her breath. “He does not approve of you kissing me.”

  “Well, he damn well better get used to it,” Jon replied gruffly. “As I intend for it to occur quite often.”

  That brought a hint of a crooked smile to her ripe lips and Jon found himself smiling back.

  “I must assure him that he remains firmly in my affections,” Emma declared.

  She pulled out of Jon’s embrace, turned and approached the dog. Scratching his head, she spoke to the animal in a sweet, praising tone. His tail began wagging with enthusiastic happiness and Jon felt a sudden burst of kinship with the beast—it was indeed joyful to be acknowledged and fussed over by Emma.

  A commotion at the door drew Jon’s attention away from his charming wife and her massive dog. His normally stoic and stuffy butler, Hopson, barged into the room, his usual mask of composure noticeably missing.

  “Pray, forgive the interruption, my lord, but you have callers.”

  “No need to stand on ceremony and announce me, Hopson.” A woman dressed in black swept dramatically into the room, her skirts billowing behind her.

  “Dianna?”

  “Oh, Jon. Lord Kendall. Jon.” She pressed her gloved hands to her temples and shook her head. “Forgive my intrusion, but I simply had to come. I’ve heard the most horrid rumors and I had to assure myself that all is well with you.”

  He blinked. Dressed in her widow’s weeds she looked especially fresh, young, and innocent. Her brow was furrowed with worry and her concern appeared genuine. For a split second Jon almost found himself lost in her deep, sorrowful eyes.

  “Lady Brayer.” He bowed, breaking the connection, drawing his eyes away. “My deepest condolences at the death of your husband.”

  “A shocking tragedy,” she muttered.

  “I was given to understand the incident took place in your home. You are unharmed?” Despite her treatment of him and past hurt, he never wished Dianna ill.

  “I’m fine.” She inhaled deeply. “I was upstairs in my bed, asleep when it happened. I have little memory of what occurred once Gerald’s body was discovered and the household roused. ’Twas pandemonium.”

  Jon strained forward to hear her, as her voice came out in a nervous whisper.

  “I’m glad that you are safe,” he replied. “Though I am surprised to see you out so soon after the funeral.”

  “I told her this visit was scandalous and inappropriate for more reasons than I could name,” a disapproving male voice intoned. “But as usual my sister refused to listen, paying no heed to logic or decorum.”

  Jon looked up and watched Hector Winthrope enter the room. He was short of breath, his full jowls jiggling, suggesting that he might have been running to catch his sister. Yet somehow she had escaped him.

  A tide of pink flushed Dianna’s pale cheeks and she looked down at the carpet. “Forgive me for being so bold, Jon.”

  Hector’s glower darkened. Jon fully expected him to begin berating and scolding her, since Hector seemed to always relish the opportunity to act pompous and superior.

  Emma stepped forward into view, adding yet another layer of awkwardness. Both Dianna’s and Hector’s faces flashed with surprise. Jon waited to hear the growling warning from Sir Galahad, but the dog remained silent.

  Damn the beast. He was exactly the sort of distraction they needed at the moment.

  “Miss Ellingham!” Hector gushed. “Please forgive my rudeness for not noticing you sooner.”

  Spots of bright color appeared on Hector’s cheeks. His delight at seeing Emma was so obvious Jon wondered if the man would start drooling with excitement. For her part, Emma seemed oblivious to Hector’s adoration.

  “See there, Hector. We are not Lord Kendall’s only visitors this afternoon,” Dianna said triumphantly.

  “I’m not exactly a visitor,” Emma replied. She glanced pointedly at Jon. Apparently she was waiting for him to explain her cryptic response.

  “’Tis true. She is no longer Miss Ellingham, but rather Lady Kendall.” Jon inhaled a deep breath. “Emma did me the great honor of becoming my wife yesterday.”

  Mouths agape, Dianna and Hector stared at Emma. Honestly, it wasn’t all that shocking—was it? Emma was a respectable gentlewoman, sister-in-law to a marquess. Why shouldn’t he have taken her as his wife?

  The small bit of color that had remained on Dianna’s face drained away. “Married?”

  “I’ll own I don’t always pay the closest attention in church, but I most certainly would have taken note of the banns being read these past three weeks,” Winthrope sputtered, a look of disbelief on his face. He pulled a fluffy white handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at his damp brow.

  “There were no banns,” Emma said bluntly.

  Hector tilted his head in puzzlement. Well, Atwood had claimed he would do all within his power to minimize the scandal—and reason—for their hasty marriage. Jon was impressed that Emma’s brother-in-law had somehow managed to accomplish that feat.

  At least for now. The truth would soon be learned and the scandalous whispers ensue.

  “No banns? So this was a hasty, impulsive decision?” Hector questioned, his voice rising. “Why?”

  “We had our reasons,” Emma replied calmly.

  Winthrope peered at Emma sharply, his eyes lowering to her midsection. “I see. Pray, allow me to offer you my felicitations.”

  The sour look of utter disappointment and censure he cast at Emma belied any sincerity in those words. He took a step forward, but Jon stopped him with a hand on his chest.

  “You are gravely mistaken, Winthrope, if you believe we are expecting a child. I suggest that you think very carefully before repeating such an insulting untruth about my wife and impugning her character and reputation.”

  Hector’s eyes narrowed nastily.

  Dianna sucked in a sharp breath, her face screwed up in horror. “Goodness, Hector! And you accuse me of lacking tact. The circumstances of their marriage are none of our business.”

  Yet despite her words, Dianna’s eyes were darting from him to Emma in an apparent attempt to comprehend the situation.

  “Well, no matter the details for the hasty union, none will deny this is a most advantageous match for you, Miss Ellingham,” Winthrope said, his eyebrow arching snidely. “You must be delighted.”

  “Lady Kendall,” Jon corrected tersely, a flush of anger running through him.

  There was a time when Jon had pitied Hector and his almost pathetic need to feel important and exhibit a moral superiority in all things. The man had neither great wealth nor social standing and he desperately craved both. But any lingering empathetic feelings Jon had were quickly disappearing every time Winthrope insulted Emma.

  “We heard a ghastly rumor that you had been questioned and then arrested for Gerald’s murder,” Hector prodded. “’Tis the reason my sister insisted upon coming to see you today, Kendall, even though I strongly advised against it.”

  “As you are standing here right now instead of rotting in the gaol, ’tis clear the rumor was false,” Dianna declared, yet her voice sounded unsteady and bewildered, as though she didn’t quite believe what she was saying.

  “I was falsely arrested, but it was a mistake, a misunderstanding that Emma quickly clarified,” Jon said smoothly.

  “And you rewarded her for her help by marrying her,” Hector concluded, his eyes squinting as though he was trying to decide if he had hit upon the truth. “How interesting.”

  A sharp denial sprang to Jon’s lips, but he held back the remarks. He owed no one an explanation. ’Twas annoying in the extreme that Winthrope’s conclusions were partially accurate, yet confirming or denying the particulars of their marriage could prove embarrassing for Emma.

  “If you must do so, Mr. Winthrope, I believe the better way of interpreting our marital situation is to say that Jon rescued me,” Emma said in a dignified voic
e.

  Dianna’s eyes strayed to his. “You always were so noble,” she said quietly.

  “Isn’t he,” Emma responded, moving forward and slipping her arm through his. “’Tis most infuriating.”

  There was no mistaking Emma’s possessive gesture. It surprised Jon, even more so when he realized he was rather flattered by it.

  Dianna’s hand fluttered to her chest. “We must intrude upon you no longer and take our leave at once.”

  Hector sniffed loudly. “We should never have come in the first place, however I’m sure the viscount and his new bride will forgive us.”

  After presenting them with an exaggerated bow, Winthrope grasped his sister’s hand and tugged her out the door. Dianna glanced back over her shoulder at him, her expression filled with apology, but she said nothing.

  There were several moments of painful silence once the pair had left.

  “Well, that was most uncomfortable,” Emma declared with a long sigh. “I suppose I must take a small comfort in knowing they departed before I said something utterly rude and unforgiveable.”

  “I, too, bit my tongue more than once. Though Winthrope had little difficulty slinging smug remarks in our direction.” Jon kept his eyes on the door, just in case their unexpected guests reappeared. “We knew that our sudden, unexpected wedding would cause curiosity and result in some gossip and speculation.”

  “But they had no idea we had married,” Emma countered, untangling her arm from his. “Dianna came because she was concerned about you.”

  Jon resisted the urge to tug at his cravat, which suddenly felt too tight around his neck. Though Emma’s tone had been even and steady, it felt like an accusation.

  She retreated to the other side of the room, and sat again on the silk brocade settee. The dog instantly jumped up beside her. Hoping to ease some of the odd tension between them, Jon moved to join her. When he came within a few feet of his wife, Sir Galahad started barking.

  “Oh, now you’ve decided to make your presence known,” Jon said in mock disgust as he dropped into the chair across from them. “A few of those deep barks and low growls would have sent Hector Winthrope running for the door.”