Along Came a Rogue (13 page)

But when her hand closed around him and gently squeezed— “Like this?”

He couldn't hold back the shudder that jolted through him or the growl that tore from his throat as she began to stroke up and down his shaft. “Emily, that's…Yes, just like that.”

Her touch was unlike any he'd felt before with any other woman. She sought out his erection in half-innocent exploration, half-wicked seduction, and all of it was maddeningly arousing, leaving him rock-hard and aching to claim her.

He squeezed his eyes shut and fought to maintain control. Every muscle in his body screamed with need to plunge into her warmth and drive to release. But he had to make this good for her, he absolutely
had
to. Tonight was all for Emily, and whatever pleasure he found was simply because she granted it.

Emboldened, she rolled her palm over his tip, and the hot friction combined with the ongoing stroking of her other hand along his shaft to drive him out of his mind. “Does it hurt?”

He gave a jerky nod, unable to move in any way else lest he lose himself against her fingers like an untried green pup and embarrass himself. “It hurts good. So damnably good…”

She gave a throaty laugh of pleased delight, and as his cock jumped in her hands, he sucked in a panting mouthful of air. He wanted to pleasure her longer, to kiss and lick his way over every inch of her enticing body until she squirmed, whimpering and begging for him, but he simply couldn't hold back long enough now. Good Lord, he was on the verge of bursting! And from only a few strokes of her hand.

Nudging her legs apart with his knee, he settled between her thighs as he kissed her hard, ravishing her mouth the way he planned on taking her body. She moaned against his lips, and he'd never heard a more erotic, more thrilling sound in his life.

He carefully shifted forward onto one arm to keep his weight off her belly, then reached with his other hand to position his rigid cock against her entrance and nestle down into the first layer of her wet folds. Holding himself there, he felt her tiny muscles tighten around his tip, as if her body were trying to draw him inside of its own volition.

Yet he waited, delaying the sweetest movement and reveling in the anticipation. He would never again have this moment of sliding inside her for the first time, and he wanted to make it last just a few heartbeats longer.

He brushed his lips against her temple. “Emily.” Her name was a prayer for absolution, a plea for redemption—

Lowering his hips, he sank smoothly inside her in a single stroke, sheathing himself fully to the hilt in her gloriously tight warmth. He pressed down until his hips seated against hers, unable to plunge any deeper, then he groaned as her softness enveloped him. He squeezed his eyes shut, for a moment doing nothing but lying still inside her and enjoying the wonderful sensation of having her surrounding him.

A soft whimper rose from her lips in an incoherent plea of need. Granting her wish, he rocked himself against her. With slow, shallow beats of his hips against hers, he set himself to growing the arousal inside her. But soon, unable to keep himself in check, he deepened his thrusts until each plunge brought a moan to her lips, each retreat a whimpering sigh of loss.

“Move with me, darling.” His hands slid down to clasp her hips and show her how to rise from the mattress to meet each thrust. “Show me that you want me.”

When she raised her hips tentatively to meet his, he groaned her name and lifted her against him, again and again, until she found the natural rhythm of their joined bodies, until her hips instinctively strained against his, until she writhed eagerly and uncontrollably beneath him.

Her arms clasping around his shoulders, Emily closed her eyes as she shivered with joy. She'd never known that being with a man could be this wonderful, this good. And oh, how good it felt! Not once during her marriage had intimacy been like this…this special, this perfect as it was right now. Grey wanted her; the raw need she saw in his desire-hooded eyes thrilled her immeasurably, and surely,
this
was how it was meant to be between a man and a woman. Aching. Raw. Hot and sweaty. Absolute perfection.

But even this wasn't enough. Something was happening to her, something she desperately
wanted
to happen. Without warning, flames flared through her from the inside out—she knew then how intimacy was supposed to be between a man and woman. Oh, dear God, she
knew
!

The cry ripped from her throat as all the muscles in her body clenched tightly. Her sex flexed around him, then released in a shattering shiver of exquisite pleasure that exploded out like a million stars from her center where he lay buried. She fell limp beneath him, unable to do anything more than gasp for breath.

Grey pumped his hips hard against her, all restraint gone as he now sought his own climax. “Never—never this good,” he groaned incoherently. “Only you, Emily…God, brat, only this with you…”

She felt the first small squirt of his release inside her, and without a trace of shame, she tilted her hips to receive him. There was no need to be careful, no need to deny herself this last pleasure and most precious gift from him. With a shuddering groan, he plunged deep inside her and poured himself into her, his thighs and buttocks straining to empty every last drop. Then he collapsed onto his side beside her.

Her eyes still closed, she lay with one hand resting against his chest, the exact same spot she'd been touching when she shattered around him. His heart.

“Emily, are you all right?” His raspy voice came thick with concern. He placed his hand over her lower belly. “The baby?”

“We're both fine.” She slipped her hand over his, entwining their fingers. Then she opened her eyes, and at the look of happiness on his face, sheer joy danced inside her. Yet she bit her bottom lip. “But…”

“But?” He tensed with sudden apprehension.

She hesitated, then blurted out, “Oh, Thomas can never know about
this
!”

He laughed and pulled her tightly into his arms.

A
knock at the door cut through her sleep, and Emily woke with a start.

Her eyes darted around the strange room, lit brightly by the morning sun pouring in through the window. She blinked, taking a moment to remember where she was and how she'd gotten here, why she was naked…and what happened last night. Her chest warmed with happiness. For once, being in Grey's arms hadn't been only a dream.

With a smile, she turned over to reach for him—

The bed was empty.

Her smile faded with a sharp pang of disappointment. He was gone, having left while she'd been asleep. And judging from the cold mattress beneath her fingers, most likely before dawn.

The knock came again, and her heart skipped hopefully—foolishly—even as she knew it wasn't Grey. It
couldn't
be. After all, the man who'd laid bare all her secrets last night and ravished her so thoroughly wouldn't have knocked.

Crawling out of the bed, she reached for the greatcoat he'd left tossed over the chair and scrambled into it to cover her still-naked body, her fingers buttoning it closed to her neck. Then she opened the door.

A young woman stood in the hallway, the same buxom maid from last night who had so blatantly offered herself to Grey.

“Yes?” Emily asked stiffly, unprepared for the jealous stab in her chest.

“G'mornin', missus.” She smiled and lifted up a small tray. “The major ordered breakfast. Said ya prefer t' take it in yer room this mornin'.”

“Of course,” she mumbled politely, stepping back to let the woman pass. Once again she was struck by the contradiction Grey embodied. The gentleman in him was thoughtful enough to make certain she had breakfast, yet the rake couldn't bring himself to stay until morning.

The maid placed the tray on a little table beneath the window. “Cook made it special fer ye.”

Emily lowered her gaze, feeling guilty that the cook went out of her way, especially since she had no appetite. “I'm certain it will be delicious.” She forced a grateful smile. “Please thank her for me.”

The maid answered with a nod, then sashayed toward the door. Emily followed, thinking the woman was leaving, but then the maid stopped and reached into the hall to retrieve the bundle of fabric and bucket of hot water she'd left there.

“The major asked m' t' give ye this, too.” She set the bucket by the washbasin, then handed her the bundle of fabric.

Emily unfolded it and held it up. A blue-print gingham dress with long sleeves and a high waist that would serve well enough to keep her dressed for the rest of the ride to London. And just baggy enough to hide her belly.

Her throat tightened. Leave it to Grey to think of that, too.

“The major said 'e 'ad to see t' th' team an' carriage,” the maid told her over her shoulder as she retreated toward the door, “but that 'e'll see ye downstairs once yer dressed.”

Her heart sank with disappointment. So Grey wasn't coming back. She stonily forced out a polite, “Thank you.”

The door shut behind the maid with a gentle click.

Closing her eyes tightly, Emily sank onto the edge of the bed and tried to clear the riot of emotions fogging her mind and painfully tightening her chest. If Grey thought less of her this morning because she'd given herself so freely last night, she didn't know how she'd bear it. Or worse…what if he thought nothing of her at all?

His scent still clung to the sheets and covers, that masculine smell she loved of leather and soap now swirled together with the musky odor of sex. It clung to her body, too, like an invisible imprint branding her as his, and she resisted the urge to crawl back beneath the covers and wrap herself in it, to fall back into the dream of being in his arms.

But she couldn't. He was waiting downstairs, and although she had no idea what she would say to him this morning or what kind of emotions—if any—she would see in him, she had no choice but to face him.

With a deep sigh of resolve, she pushed herself off the bed. She might not have a choice in how he felt about her, but she was determined not to let him see how confused she was about
him
. But what was there to be confused about? She scolded herself. Last night was only physical intimacy, after all. It wasn't as if she had fallen in love with him, for goodness' sake!

Yet an hour later, after she'd bathed, dressed, and fixed her appearance as best she could, her heart still beat anxiously as she made her way downstairs to the courtyard where Grey would be waiting. She dreaded seeing the disdainful or disinterested way he might look at her now, and heavens, how would she keep from crying when he did?

The morning was beautiful. The sun shined clear and bright with the kind of slight chill in the air that often followed a violent storm, and the day promised nothing but white clouds and warming breezes. Except for scattered mud puddles, there was no sign of the storm that had been unleashed on them yesterday. Yet she barely noticed any of it, her mind too distracted by last night's events and what she would say to Grey when she first saw him.

The team was already hitched to the battered carriage when she entered the stable yard, and Grey and Hedley stood beside it, their brows furrowed in concentration as they assessed its condition. At the front of the team, Dalton finished checking the harness buckles to make certain everything was in place before they set out for another long day of travel, one that would bring them to within a half-day's ride of London.

Hedley gave her a polite doff of his hat as she approached. “G' mornin', missus.”

Frowning at the carriage, Grey looked up distractedly at Hedley's greeting and saw her. For a beat, he froze. Then a slow and knowing grin tugged at the corners of his sensuous mouth, and he politely bowed his head. “Lady Emily.”

Just like that, all the anxious dread fretting away inside her vanished, replaced by a wanton heat as his gaze drifted leisurely down her front. A gaze that was anything but disinterested. Her chest lightened. Grey might very well end up loving her and leaving her, but it wouldn't be this morning.

“Major Grey,” she returned, staring at him a bit shyly through lowered lashes.

“I trust you slept well,” he drawled, his deep voice carefully emotionless even as his eyes shined wickedly.

“Very well, thank you.” As her face heated beneath the intensity of his gaze, she knew she was in danger of giving away without a single word what had happened between them. “And you?”

“Not a wink,” Hedley interjected with a grimace, reaching to rub the small of his back. “Those damned hard benches made it impossible—”

“Sergeant, your language,” Grey admonished quietly, nodding toward Emily. “There's a lady present.”

Hedley's face pinched with embarrassment. “Beggin' yer pardon, missus.” He took a breath and began again, “Those
darn
hard benches made it bloody well impossible for me an' the major to sleep!”

Grey rolled his eyes in exasperated amusement, his lips twitching but not saying anything. Likewise, Emily bit back her own laughter at the faithful sergeant's expense.

“I am sorry to hear that, Mr. Hedley.” She placed a hand briefly on his arm and smiled at him with genuine affection. “Tonight when we stop, we'll make certain you have a proper bed.”

“That would be lovely, missus.”

The idle chatter with Hedley continued for a few more minutes as he politely asked her about her breakfast and if she had everything she needed for the day's travel, although she had no idea how she managed to participate coherently in their conversation with Grey's eyes watching her so intensely. The raw desire inside him was transparently obvious to her. How on earth could no one else see it? Her mouth went dry at the devilish thought of what awaited her tonight in the darkness if he looked at her that heatedly in the bright light of morning.

She cleared her throat and forced away the thought before she turned scarlet and embarrassed all of them. “Are we departing, then?”

“If you're ready,” Grey put in.

“I'm ready for anything,” she answered without thinking.

And at that, the expression on his face turned positively predatory. Like a wolf delighting in finding its prey. “Well, then.” He grinned. “Dalton!”

He turned to signal to the driver that they were ready to start. She wondered if he also did it to give himself a moment to wipe that sinful look from his face before Hedley noticed and suspected there was more between them than an old acquaintanceship, because when he turned back toward her, his face was once again composed.

“I'm taking the first turn up top at the reins,” he told her. “That way, Hedley can catch a few more hours of sleep inside with you, if you don't mind.”

Disappointment stabbed through her, but she didn't let it show. “I don't mind at all.”

Hedley smiled gratefully. “My thanks to you, ma'am.” Another doff of his hat, another hand to his back. “An' me spine thanks you, too.”

“Help Dalton with the team while I settle Lady Emily, will you?” Grey ordered. “The harness might have stretched from pulling through the mud yesterday.”

“Aye, sir.”

As Hedley hurried to the front of the carriage, the realization struck Emily that Grey no longer referred to her as Mrs. Crenshaw, and a happy warmth stirred low inside her.

“Are you all right?” he asked in a quiet voice, one surprisingly soft and intimate even as his eyes remained fixed straight ahead on Hedley and Dalton as they worked the harness. “You looked a bit uneasy when you approached.”

“I didn't know what to think.” She gently accused, her own voice helplessly overflowing with emotion, “You left in the middle of the night.”

His shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly, but she noticed. Lord help her, she noticed everything about this man. “I had no choice.”

“You didn't have to sleep on a bench with Hedley.” Knowing how well he could read her, she didn't bother trying to hide the hurt she'd felt when she woke to find him gone. Or her confusion now to know that he'd chosen a hard bench over her bed. “You could have stayed with me.”

“No,” he corrected in a rueful murmur, “I won't risk your reputation.”

“I don't care.”

“I do,” he answered firmly.

Then she felt his fingers brush hers as her hand rested against the folds of her skirt, and her breath hitched. Just as suddenly as his hand had touched hers, he shifted away before anyone could see. At the loss of his warmth, she bunched her skirt into her hand, twisting the material around her fingers.

He hesitated, his eyes still staring straight ahead as if he was afraid to look at her. “I've never spent the entire night in a woman's bed. I've never wanted to stay around long enough afterward to actually sleep with her. But with you,” he admitted tenderly, “for once I wanted to stay.”

Her throat knotted, yet she didn't dare let herself hope that he might care about her beyond friendship. “Did you truly?”

“Yes.” His brows raised slightly as if the answer surprised him as well. “Apparently, brat, you bring out all kinds of new desires in me.”

Her lips parted in surprise. “What do you—”

“All done, sir!” Hedley called out.

“Good,” Grey answered. He moved to open the carriage door and put down the step to help her inside. “Let's depart, then.”

He held out his hand to her. As she slipped hers into his to step up into the compartment, his mouth lowered close to her ear and murmured, “Can the baby handle another long day's ride?”

Her chest tightened at his concern. “Yes,” she returned in the same low voice. “Grey, thank you for—”

But there was no time to say anything more because Hedley appeared immediately at his side, ready to join her in the carriage. Grey squeezed her fingers tenderly with a gleam in his eyes before releasing her hand, as if he knew she planned to thank him for saving her life. More times than he realized.