The Last Wicked Rogue

by Lauren Smith

Lily smiled, resisting the urge to make a joke about the odds of such an occurrence.

  “She looked so familiar, but now I see it’s Hugo I recognized in her features.”

  Lily stiffened. “Does that trouble you?” she asked, moving a little between him and Katherine.

  He sighed and leaned down to brush the backs of his fingers over Kat’s cheeks. The baby stirred but didn’t wake.

  “She may share his features, but inside I see only her mother’s heart.” Charles’s gaze shifted to Lily. His eyes moved over her sensually. Her pulse quickened. She should have tamped down her reaction to him. This was not the time for such things, but the heady, heavy warmth of that desire flowed through her nonetheless, drugging her thoughts and senses.

  He reached up and cupped the back of her neck, his warm fingers curling around her skin. “If I am the only one holding love within my heart, you must tell me, Lily. It will not change the vow I made to you and your child.”

  She swallowed, feeling dizzy as the world seem to spin on its axis.

  “You are not the only one,” said Lily. “I’m quite certain I loved you the moment I first saw you, as foolish and dangerous as it was to do so.” She placed a hand on his chest, feeling the silk of his waistcoat beneath her fingertips. He lifted her other hand to his lips, kissing the calluses at the top of her palm beneath the base of each finger. How could he make her feel so cherished with such a simple act?

  “You’ve worked so hard, haven’t you?” he murmured, pity and compassion in his voice.

  She pulled her hand away. “I did what I had to. I don’t want your pity.”

  “What do you want then?” he asked, his gray eyes sparking with silver.

  What did she want? She wanted to sleep without keeping a knife tucked away under her pillow. She wanted Katherine to grow up and know a happiness she feared she’d never have herself. She wanted this, all of this, to be over. But as Charles’s hands moved to her shoulders, she wanted one thing more than all of that combined.

  “You.” She thrust herself forward and kissed him, and he kissed her back in equal measure. Despite the glitter of danger in his eyes, she knew he would never hurt her, not like Hugo had. It was only pleasure, pure and potent, as timeless and unending as the moon pulling the tides. The masculine energy that emanated from him was a comfort, an enticement, not a threat. Heat uncurled in her abdomen as she leaned deeper into the kiss. He suddenly bent, scooping her up in his arms as he carried her.

  “Which room is yours?”

  “The one on the left of the nursery.”

  He carried her into her bedchamber and set her down with infinite gentleness before he closed the door. A fire burned in the hearth and a tray of cheese and fruit sat on a plate, but Lily wasn’t hungry. Charles came back and stood in front of her, cupping her face in his hands. Their gazes locked, stormy gray meeting turbulent blue.

  “Know this. I will stop if you tell me to,” said Charles. “I don’t want… I don’t want you to fear anything that happens in this bed between us.”

  She gripped his wrists and gave them a light squeeze. “It’s all right. I trust you. I always have.”

  “We’ll go slow,” he vowed as he knelt at her feet.

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “You, slow? Why do I find that hard to believe?” She had seen and heard enough of his romantic lifestyle to know he preferred his lovemaking fast and furious.

  He looked up at her as he slid one of her dark-red slippers off her foot. He gave a cocksure grin that made her stomach flutter more wildly.

  “I can make love with infinite slowness when I wish to,” he assured her. “Savoring each inch of skin I bare.” He removed her other slipper in his hands and began to massage her feet—the arches, the ankles, even the balls of her stocking-covered feet—and it felt like heaven. She moaned in pleasure as she collapsed back on the bed and propped herself up on her elbows. He unfastened the ribbons above her knees and slowly rolled down her stockings, pausing to look at the plain silk.

  “When we’re married, I will have all your stockings embroidered with lilies.”

  She tried not to think of the future they might share. It would hurt too much if it became real and was then torn away from her.

  “Would you wear lilies on your waistcoat?” She was half teasing, half trying to distract herself as he bared her skin and let her stockings drop to the floor.

  “I would tattoo them upon my body like a sailor, if you wish.” He was so serious as he said this that her throat tightened as a flood of conflicting emotions battled for control inside her.

  Charles ran his palms up her calves, playing silent melodies upon her flesh as he explored her, then pushed her skirts up her thighs as he stood. He caught her face in his hands and bent to kiss her. Fire raced from his body to hers, and she sighed at the exquisite perfection of his kiss—hard, then soft, then playful, then exploring. It was as though he was trying to make up for a lifetime of missed opportunities. His passions made her the sole focus of his attention, and she knew she would never have enough of it in this life.

  She tried to lock her legs around his hips, but he stepped back and pulled her onto her feet, trying to turn her so her back was to him. Then she understood his intention, how he wished to take her, and she faced away from him. Her heart began to race, and fear collided with desire. She’d been hurt this way before, but if he wanted, she would try it. She would try anything.

  She started to lift her skirts up. “You want to…?”

  “What? No, love, please.” He pushed her skirts back down and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding onto her, his body radiating heat like her own private sun. He trailed kisses on her neck until her pulse calmed and her breathing stabilized again. He slowly let go of her, and his hands began to unlace the back of her gown.

  A flash of embarrassment filled her. She’d been foolish in assuming he wanted to take her that way. He’d merely wanted to undo her gown. When he finished unlacing the gown, it dropped into a pool of cloth at her feet.

  “Still with me?” he whispered before kissing her cheek.

  “Y-yes.” She placed her palms on the bed to steady herself as he unlaced her stays and let those drop as well. She wore only a chemise now, and she somehow felt more vulnerable than ever before in her life. She rotated in his arms to face him, unable to stop trembling.

  “You’re afraid.”

  How could she not be? What they’d shared in the coach on the way to the opera had been wonderful, but it had only been his finger, not…the rest of him. She didn’t want this night to be one of pain, not with him.

  “I am,” she admitted, “but not of you. It’s just that I’ve only ever…” Her face heated. “It hurt before. The pain was with me for days.”

  Charles wrapped his arms around her, holding her flush against him in a fierce embrace.

  “I wish…” His whispered voice was rough with emotion. “I wish he’d never hurt you, never touched you. All I can do is promise it won’t be like that with me.”

  Lily could feel in his touch and hear in his voice that this wasn’t about possession. He spoke out of a desire to ease her concerns, to protect her, to care for her. A true lover would never hurt a woman, and Charles, she suspected, was perhaps the best lover any woman could ever have.

  “I want you, and that want is stronger than any fear.” She nuzzled his throat before placing a soft kiss above his cravat, then began to untie the neckcloth. She had done this many times for him before, and each time it had made her body flush. He let her slide the neckcloth off, holding still, a smile on his lips.

  “I forgot. You undressed me often.”

  “I did.” She knew she was blushing, but she couldn’t help it. “And all those times you bathed and—”

  This time it was he who blushed. “Lord, I made you massage my shoulders only a few nights ago.”

  “I didn’t mind. But it always made me so nervous. I was certain you would see the desire in my eyes, feel it in my touch
,” she admitted. Charles let her unbutton his waistcoat, and her fingers trembled a little on the pearly silver buttons.

  He reached up to twine his fingers in her hair. “How did you hide all these gold locks from me? I saw you with short cropped hair often enough.”

  She bit her lip to hide a smile. “Do you really wish to discuss how I pretended to be a boy in front of you? Now?”

  Charles chuckled. “I fear my curiosity has gotten the better of me.”

  “Wigs and a hundred hairpins,” Lily confessed. “It made my head ache. I had considered cutting my hair, but Hugo wished for me to keep my hair long for other occasions.”

  Charles threaded his fingers through her hair, gently removing pins while she finished unbuttoning his waistcoat. “I’m glad. Your hair is radiant.” He shed his waistcoat, then lifted his white lawn shirt over and off his head.

  “I have to kiss you again,” he warned, a teasing glint in his eyes.

  She smiled up at him. “I won’t object.”

  Charles kissed away all doubt and fear, leaving only tenderness, heat, and light in his wake. He broke the kiss to nibble at her bottom lip, the light sting of his bite flooding her with warmth between her thighs. She clung to his bare shoulders, feeling his taut muscles shift beneath her hands as he drew her closer.

  He swept his hands down her back, then her backside, cupping her bottom through her chemise, then lifted her up and sat her on the bed again. When he broke the kiss this time, it was to remove his boots and stockings. His hands paused at his trousers, and he looked at her.

  “Go on,” she teased, and smiled as he pulled them off. She’d seen him naked more than once as Tom and knew how well-endowed he was. How often she’d had to hold her feelings back before, and now she didn’t. Already she burned with longing.

  “Lie back,” he whispered. She slid back on the bed and crawled beneath the sheets. He joined her, and she began to slip her chemise off. He helped to remove it and then pulled her into his arms. Their bare forms pressed against each other for the first time, skin to skin, with nothing, not even secrets, standing between them.

  The fine hairs on his chest tickled her breasts, and she shifted closer against him. Their legs twined together, and he stroked one hand from her shoulder slowly down to her calf before he hooked her leg around his hips. He lay in the cradle of her thighs as he covered her body with his.

  “I want to explore every inch of you.” His mouth moved down to her throat. He paused to kiss her collarbone, then moved toward her breasts. Heat flowed through her as he sucked one nipple between his lips. She couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her lips as he tugged gently at it. Her head flew back as he cupped and kneaded her other breast. Light flashed behind her closed eyelids as pleasure began a slow, delicious build inside her. His mouth and hands roved over her more aggressively, but only just enough that she started writhing and panting. She’d always longed for larger breasts, as if those would somehow make up for her height, but Charles seemed enraptured by those she possessed, and for once she didn’t feel ashamed of her figure.

  “You’re exquisite,” he said as he nuzzled her sensitive mounds. “Like you were made just for me.” His thumb rested against one hardened peak before he flicked his tongue against it.

  Lily whimpered. “Please, stop teasing me.” She fisted her hands into his hair and tugged. With one last playful lick, he slid down her body to her thighs. She tried to close her legs, embarrassed that he would see the marks on her skin where having a child had stretched her.

  “Please, I know I’m not…” She trailed off, shame strangling the words.

  “Every mark on your body defines you, Lily,” he whispered. “It speaks of your courage, your strength, your love. Motherhood has only made you more lovely. I’ve always longed for someone real, someone who would accept me the same way.”

  Charles’s sweet words were killing her. “But you have no scars.” He had only one scar along his chin, but it was old and barely visible. She’d seen the masculine muscled perfection of his body so many times, she would’ve remembered if he’d had any others.

  “They’re on the inside,” he said, his gray eyes showing a hint of sorrow. He nuzzled down to the inside of her thigh, and she tensed as his mouth moved closer to her.

  “What are you…?”

  “Be at ease, love,” he said soothingly just as his mouth settled on her center. The soft heat of his mouth and tongue exploring her consumed her in a flood of liquid fire. His tongue teased her folds, questing and conquering. It felt like heaven, yet she couldn’t lie still. She wriggled and gasped with each delicate shift of his tongue. No man had ever been between her thighs like this, and she gloried shamelessly in the ecstasy of this moment. He kept her prisoner to the sweet torture of his mouth, and the bold swipes of his tongue sent her spiraling. Her need for him was more urgent than ever.

  “Charles…I need you…inside me, please.”

  His reply was to fasten his mouth on the small pearl peeping between her folds while pushing two fingers gently into her channel.

  She cried out at the sensations that overwhelmed her. So much was happening too fast. It was too much. Too good.

  He moved up her body, and she spread her thighs, feeling his weight atop her as his shaft nudged her entrance. Emboldened by her own reckless desires, she raised her hips as he guided his shaft into her. He teased her folds, coating himself in her wetness, and she blushed wildly, her womb throbbing in anticipation. Then he pressed in, slow, his length hard as he entered the heated core of her body. She felt a slight whisper of pain as his shaft, thick and long, pushed deeper into her. Her legs trembled as she tried to relax, but it felt like he was spearing her.

  “You feel like heaven.”

  The sight of his face, full of affection and desire, spiked her own arousal, and she relaxed, letting him sink all the way inside her. “So do you.” She’d been so afraid of how it would hurt, how it would be like before, but it was nothing like that. She felt connected to Charles in the most intimate way possible.

  “Tell me if I hurt you.” He leaned down, bracing his arms on either side of her head.

  For once she loved that she was taller than most ladies. Her lips were even with his, and she could kiss him while he gently rode her. As their eyes met, she was drawn in, consumed by the vitality and sensual dominance of his gaze as he lowered his mouth to hers.

  This time when he kissed her, it felt different. Deeper, more unifying, as though he wanted to mold himself to her into one being. Love, hope, and desire all hummed in her like a chord plucked on a harp, the harmonious notes vibrating long after being struck. She had never felt so in tune with another soul, as though she could match her breath and the beat of her heart to his.

  She kissed him back, trying to tell him with her lips what she was too afraid to say in words.

  I love you. Love you so much I cannot envision life without you.

  They shared a sigh of pleasure as she caressed the strong tendons in the back of his neck and gasped in sweet agony as he entered her again and again. The friction of their connection penetrated every nerve, and she finally understood what she had missed when she’d lost her innocence. This was what lovemaking truly was supposed to be like. The exquisite rush of physical joy that poured through her was magic. And it only kept building, higher and higher, like the tower of Babel, reaching toward heaven itself until…

  She careened over the edge into impossible pleasure as she climaxed. Her soul shattered and reformed. He quickened his thrusts, whispering her name like a prayer. And then he came apart above her. She drank in the sight of his eyes, the way he held nothing back from her. It was so beautiful—he was so beautiful—that it overwhelmed her. A sob escaped her lips.

  “Lily. I’m so sorry. What did I do?” He brushed the pads of his thumbs over her cheeks, which were wet with tears. “Please don’t cry,” he whispered. “I can bear anything but your tears.”

  She sniffed, unable to stop, and burie
d her face in his neck, clinging to him. He didn’t understand. She felt free for the first time in years. She calmed, and her breathing hitched only slightly as she let go of her tight grip on his shoulders.

  He kissed her temple. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No!” She cupped his face, offering a watery smile. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m happy. I feel… I feel free.” Perhaps not free of Hugo’s clutches, but free of the pain and fear that he had left her with. Charles had shown her a way out of the darkness and into the light.

  “I didn’t hurt you?”

  “No,” she promised. “You showed me what it should’ve been like that first time.”

  His jaw clenched, and she saw a flash of anger in his eyes. “His crime will not go unpunished.” His growling threat, despite its violence, was oddly endearing. Yet it also worried her.

  “You can’t let your anger rule over you,” she warned.

  Lily brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. He turned his face into her hand so he could kiss her palm.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. Anger has no place here. I promise you only pleasure from now on.” He nuzzled her nose before stealing a kiss. He shifted as though to move, and she wrapped her legs tighter around his waist.

  “Please don’t move. I like the feel of you on top of me.”

  “I’m not too heavy?” he asked.

  “No, you’re perfect. I want to stay just”—she yawned—“like this.” Despite her best intentions to stay awake, she sank into a blissful sleep, her body still wrapped around her tender rogue.

  Charles was a dead man.

  One night in bed with Lily had sent him to heaven’s gates because there could be no place on earth as perfect as this. He watched her drift off to sleep, counting the tears that still clung to her lashes. Tears of joy. He had done that. For all the pleasure he’d given women over the years, there had never been anything like this.

  But he hadn’t freed her as she claimed—she was the one who’d freed him. Freed him from the heavy burden of a broken and lonely heart. Now he felt like he had been given wings to fly. He had never thought it was possible to feel like this.