Going Rogue (13 page)

Again.

Meredith took a step back, her hands fisted at her sides. “She can do better than you,” she challenged, her voice wavering slightly.

He glared at her. “Are we still on that? Five years, a fortune, and an Earldom later, and I’m still not good enough for you?”

She held her head high. He had to admit, Meredith was lasting longer with him than most men ever did. “You misunderstand me,
Lord
Sutherland. I’m not talking about the coins in your coffer or whatever your rank. I’m referring to the fact that you’re not a good enough
man
for Miss Marshall. She deserves someone who’s genuine.”

“Suddenly, I’m not a good man? I’m not
genuine
?”

“No, you’re not. You’re the farthest thing from it. You may be a rogue now, but we both know this isn’t who you really are. You don’t even truly care for her.”

“How would you know? Perhaps I’m madly in love with her?”

“Because if you genuinely had feelings for Miss Marshall, you wouldn’t have allowed Lady McBride to fondle you back there in the music room like she did.”

Derek held his arms out. “Who’s Lady McBride and what the hell does she have to do with any of this?”

“The Goddess of the Hunt—your Artemis,
that
was Lady McBride. You’re practically bedding her and you don’t even know her real name?”

“Well, it’s not her name that I’m interested in.” Derek folded his arms. “Besides, it’s not as if I’m married
yet
.”

“Genuine feelings don’t change upon the signing of a marriage contract.”

She had a point, but he was too proud to acknowledge the rationality in her statement. Besides, it didn’t matter. He had his mind set on marrying Miss Marshall and that was that. “I’m going to take Miss Marshall as my wife,” he declared again through gritted teeth.

Meredith took a step closer and poked him in the chest with her finger. “You’ll have to go through me first.”

And then he kissed her.

Chapter 16

Derek didn’t realize just how much he wanted her until she was within reaching distance. Once she touched him, even if it was just with her index finger, he’d been unable to restrain himself. It was as if his entire body was consumed by insane desire. And despite his better judgment, all he could think about was having her.

Her sleeves stopped just past her shoulders, leaving her arms exposed. His fingers dug into the soft flesh, holding her so she couldn’t get away. He pressed his lips tighter to hers, his tongue ruthlessly plunging inside her mouth. He didn’t let up for breath—he was powerless to stop it.

Her gloved hands pressed against his chest, but didn’t push him away. They remained there, her fingers pressing into him. He fisted his hands in her hair, her combs falling to the ground.

She tasted like the sweet girl he remembered.

Her hair spilled about her shoulders and he groaned, burying his hands deeper into the unruly mass of curls. Her hands moved to his back, her fingers kneading the muscles. Meredith moaned into his mouth, the sound of her unmitigated pleasure making him harder still. He ran his hands down the length of her, cupping the soft flesh of her arse, pulling her closer to him.

He couldn’t get enough. His hands greedily slid up her body, beyond the curve of her waist, to the swell of her breasts. He yanked her bodice down, exposing those glorious mounds of flesh. He’d admired them since childhood, and now with them resting heavy in his palms, he knew why. They were more than any man deserved.

He broke their kiss, dipping his head to take one of the taut peaks into his mouth. She shivered with pleasure, moaning as he sucked and rolled his tongue around her hard flesh. As his mouth moved from one to the other, he ran his fingers down the center of her body, stopping at the enticing skin of her stomach.

Then Derek abruptly pulled himself away, wanting to see all of her. Her flaxen hair and white dress made her look ethereal in contrast to the darkness. “God, you’re beautiful.” He only meant to think it, but couldn’t be certain if he’d actually spoken the words aloud.

She drew a ragged breath and stared back at him, her eyes heavy with desire. “Derek?” she whispered.

Hearing his name on her lips drove him mad. He tore off his jacket, spreading it on the lawn. Without speaking, he took her into his arms and gently eased her down on the ground, positioning himself beside her.

Propped up on one hand, he used the other to grab a fistful of her gown, slowly inching it up her thighs until he caught sight of her sex. He nipped at her ears, his hand roaming freely over her body, teasing the exposed flesh. He licked the sensitive piece of skin behind her ear, simultaneously cupping her. Meredith pressed against his hand and he lightly brushed his fingers against her. She was wet, warm. He explored her, parting her folds, gently easing a finger inside.

Her hips rocked against his hand, and he knew it wouldn’t be long. He withdrew his fingers, then parted her—expertly searching for that special place he knew would drive her wild with desire. Finding it, he touched her until she writhed helplessly, her body begging for release. And he wanted to give it to her.

Their kissing had become more broken now, each one gasping for breath.

He tore himself from her mouth and admired her. Meredith’s eyes were closed, her thick brown lashes pressed against her cheeks. She was close now, and he wanted to see her eyes when he sent her tumbling over the edge. More determined than ever, he inserted another finger.

Within seconds, she screamed with pleasure and he muffled her cries with his lips, sucking the air from her lungs. He kissed her through the explosion of her pleasure, and when he felt the last wave of climax wash over her body, he finally allowed himself to tear his lips away.

He wanted her.

If she were any other woman, he would have already buried himself deep inside her. But she wasn’t any other woman—she was Meredith. And that cold realization hit him like a bucket of icy water.

He sat up and ran his hand through his hair, the heady feeling of desire replaced by anger and self-loathing. She’d succeeded in making him weak again. How, after all that had transpired between them, could she still have such power over him?

She was sitting now, adjusting her gown and trying in vain to smooth down her hair.

He looked away. “Meredith?” he started, still uncertain of what to say. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

She stopped what she was doing. “I see,” she finally said.

“It was a terrible lapse in judgment on my part and it won’t happen again.” Before he finished his thought, a rustling from the path caused them both to scurry to their feet.

“Derek?” A baritone brogue called out from the darkness. Brayan had come to find them.

Meredith had already picked his jacket up off the ground and was holding it out for him. His knuckles brushed against hers while he accepted it, sending a shiver up his spine. He ignored the exhilaration, refusing to let himself feel anything other than scorn. Even that was giving her more than she deserved.

Derek cleared his throat. “I assume I can trust that Miss Marshall will not be made aware of what’s happened tonight?” He felt a pang of guilt at the girl’s name.

She nodded, still avoiding his eyes. “Of course. For both of our sakes.”

Brayan appeared in the clearing. “There ye two are. Ye’ve been gone almost an hour now and people are starting to notice.” He looked them over before settling his narrowed gaze at his cousin. “Miss Castle’s chaperone is beginning to look a bit more lively. Perhaps she should get back inside?”

“Thank you, Lord MacCalistair.” She curtsied. “I believe I’ll do just that.” She nodded at the Scotsman, then stopped at Derek. “Good evening, Lord Sutherland.” She looked as if she were about to say something else, but didn’t. Instead, she picked up her skirts and headed quickly down the path toward the house.

Derek watched her until she was out of sight, then turned back to his cousin. “Shall we be going, too? It’s rather late and I have appointments in the morning.”

“Ye’ve got grass stains on yer jacket.” Brayan glared at him, his arms crossed over his chest.

He shrugged. “So what if I do.”

“Some spots are harder than others to get rid of. Sometimes no matter how hard ye try, ye can’t ever remove them completely. They’re with ye forever.”

“Sounds like a problem for my laundress.”

Brayan shook his head. “I don’t think yer laundress is going to be able to fix this one.”

Derek took a deep breath. “I didn’t know you were so knowledgeable about the care and keeping of jackets.”

His cousin smiled. “We’re not really talking about clothing now, are we?”

Derek didn’t bother to answer. He had to believe Brayan had it all wrong. Because, if his cousin was right, it meant he’d never truly be able to shed his feelings for Meredith.

And he just couldn’t accept that.

Chapter 17

Meredith was abruptly brought out of her slumber by the morning’s newspaper being thrown atop her sleeping body. She looked up through one squinted eye and saw Aunt Cynthia hovering above her, arms set squarely on her hips.

She reluctantly opened the other eye and sat up, her head aching from all the wine she’d consumed the night prior. “Good morning to you, too,” she mumbled, her mouth dry as wool. Meredith picked up the paper. “You didn’t by chance bring me a tray so that I could eat something while enjoying
The Times
? Because that would be lovely if you did. I’m famished.”

Cynthia pressed her lips into a thin line. “Didn’t I warn you about making a scene at the duke’s last night?”

“You did,” Meredith acknowledged, flipping through the pages.

“And yet it would appear that you didn’t listen. Again.”

She found the brief article recounting the evening’s events and quickly skimmed over it. “My name’s not even mentioned.”
Amazing.

Cynthia’s brows furrowed together. “The work of his grace, I’m sure. Still, you should read the part about the pretty girl at the piano and her dubious choice in song selection. The writer may have spared putting your name in print, but anyone who’s ever met you could easily figure out just who the girl in question is.”

Meredith handed the paper back to her aunt. “I’m not the one you should be angry with. You know how Glastonbury can be. He asked that I entertain him, so I obliged. Who am I
not
to indulge a host as generous as the Duke? If you should be mad at anyone, it’s yourself. You’re the one who insisted I attend.”

“The Duke makes a special effort to invite the Ribbons, and I merely suggested—”

“When have you
merely suggested
anything?” she interrupted. “I never had a choice in the matter. I’m a
Ribbon
, remember? We do what’s expected of us, not what we want.”

The party had provided her with the perfect opportunity to forget her troubles and put her worries up on the shelf for the night. She’d willingly overindulged on wine with dinner, hoping the foul tasting liquid would help numb her mind.

Only, it was quite difficult to forget about something that was right in front of her face. She’d spotted Derek flirting with her good friend, Alex’s, mother. It was nothing out of the ordinary—Lord and Lady McBride had one of those marriages where each partner chose to look the other way while the other entertained lovers half their age. Alex’s mother was practically chasing Derek across the lawn, and he was only too willing to indulge her.

That’s when Glastonbury had asked her to play. She should have declined, knowing it would cause a scene. But at that moment, her need to capture Derek’s attention far outweighed any damage her actions would cause her already tarnished reputation. And she’d gotten the response she’d wanted. He’d been so angry, he’d taken her out to the garden . . .

She closed her eyes, remembering everything. Once he’d kissed her, she’d found it impossible to control her desire any longer. She felt a bit like a carriage that had become separated from its horse, completely out of control. She knew she should have stopped him, protested when he reached down—but she couldn’t. It just felt so good to touch him, to be touched
by
him . . . and so
right
.

And then, just like that, the carriage had come to a screeching halt.

He’d called it a mistake, a
lack of judgment
on his part.

More simply—he didn’t want her.

Meredith swallowed past the lump in her throat, an indication of the tears that were sure to come.

Cynthia didn’t press the subject. Instead, she relaxed her stance and took a seat at the edge of Meredith’s bed. “I have other news.”

Meredith welcomed the change in conversation, not wanting to give the night at Glastonbury’s any more thought. “What is it?”

“I’m getting married!”

Meredith heard the words, their meaning not quite resonating in her mind. “Married?”

“Yes! Mr. Darby proposed.” She flashed a large ring on her finger, a sapphire. “He gave me a gift.”

She leaned in to get a closer look at the jewel, such an outrageous size she doubted her aunt could hold up her hand without additional support. “It’s beautiful,” she said weakly, still shocked by the announcement. “I didn’t think you were planning on marrying so soon. You only mentioned it a few weeks ago.”

Cynthia stood and walked toward the vanity. “Darling, it’s been years since my last husband died. This face isn’t going to last forever.” She examined herself in the mirror, patting and massaging the skin around her eyes. “Now that the Ribbons are standing on their own again, I finally feel as if I’m free to follow wherever it is that love may take me. I owe it all to you, darling.”

“Yes, well, thank you,” she muttered. Meredith sat on the side of her bed, her bare feet dangling. “Marriage—what does that mean, exactly?”

Cynthia began pulling at the slightly loose skin gathered at the base of her neck. “It means I shall join Mr. Darby at his home on the coast. I’m sure we’ll find our way back to London sooner or later, but really, as it stands, there’s no point in hanging on to this old place.” Satisfied with her appearance, she began primping her hair, tucking a stray flyaway back into its chignon. “Isn’t it wonderful?”