Redeeming the Rogue (32 page)

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said those things. A proper diplomat’s—”

He kissed her. A soft kiss, a sweet kiss, a kiss that took the words right out of her mouth, an accepting kiss.

Then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight, letting her tears soak his jacket. Her arms slipped around his waist beneath his jacket, then slid up his broad sheltering back.
He’ll protect you
. Indeed, she felt safe here as she had never felt before.

“This is your home, Arianne.” His breath warmed her ear, sending delicious currents to the rest of her body. “This is your sanctuary.”

He was wrong, of course. This legation served only as a temporary home, like so many of her visits and stays. Once their mission was complete, he would leave her and move on. But she didn’t give voice to her thoughts. They would ruin this wondrous, rare moment. His lips trailed down her neck, stirring a titillating awareness with each touch. The hollow core that she’d filled with self-pity started to give way to something else entirely. She moved her hands to his waist and gently pushed back.

“I . . . I need to remove this gown before it’s ruined.” She sniffed and managed a weak smile. She thought the hint that he should leave to allow her privacy would be adequate, but he stayed. His finger slipped beneath the blond bobbin lace that trimmed the square neckline and slowly traced the long path from her neck to the turn right above the line of her corset. Sensation sparked as if he had harnessed the lightning outside. She stepped back. “I’m fine now. You shouldn’t leave my brother alone. I’ll just call Kathleen for assistance.”

“No need,” he said. “I’ll play your lady’s maid.” He stepped behind her and ran his hand down the back of the blue woven silk, the motion pleasantly reverberating down her spine. “Your brother has access to cigars and whiskey.” He hesitated. “How is this thing fastened? No buttons, no laces . . .”

“The bodice fastens in front.” She’d forgotten. Had she been in her right mind, she could have removed much of the outer dress on her own.

“The front?” He stepped back to the front and stared at her chest. “There are no buttons here either.”

She laughed, more of a chuckle really. He did manage to lift her spirits. She pinched the gold piping that separated the ruched silk from the heavier bodice, releasing the first of a long line of concealed hook-and-eye closures.

His eyes widened. “Arianne, had I known, you would have been out of that dress much sooner.”

She laughed outright and lightly pushed him back. “As you can see I don’t need your assistance after all.”

His face grew serious, his gaze capturing hers. “Yes,” he said. “You do.”

His fingers reached for the piping. Slowly, and with great concentration, he unfastened each succeeding hook and eye. While his fingers worked the tight clasps, his knuckles slid over the thin protection afforded by her corset. Her breath caught, sensing the contraction of the tips of her breasts. She bit her lower lip, enjoying the delicious sensations his ministrations caused, while agonizing over the confrontation that was bound to come.

She’d been here before. When another man’s hands revealed and admired her skin. She’d enjoyed it then as well, basked in the attention, which was why she was having difficulty telling Rafferty to stop.

With the bodice unfastened, he slipped it off her shoulders, kissing the newly exposed skin. He caught the bodice with the attached back waterfall of silk and tossed it to the bed. Still standing before her, he reached around her waist to find the tie that released her skirts to puddle on the floor. The tie to release her tournure sat low in front of her corset. Just the thought of his fingers in that forbidden vicinity sent tingling throughout her entire body. She should stop him, send him downstairs, but her lips refused to work other than to gasp when her petticoat joined the rest of the silk on the floor.

He removed his jacket and tossed it in the vicinity of her bodice. His waistcoat soon followed. She wanted to smooth her hands over his chest, feel the powerful muscles she knew to be there, but instead she remained still, like a wooden doll . . . yearning for him to set her skin afire with his touch, while guarding her heart for the moment when he left her in disgust.

 

RAFFERTY GAZED AT HER THROUGH A VEIL OF LUST. HE wanted to taste her, he wanted her to cry out in decidedly unladylike moans of passion, he wanted her to experience the full extent of his desire. But she stood so calm, so aloof, as if the intimacy between a man and a woman were beneath her. Yet, she didn’t protest. As he suspected from the time he intruded on her bath, she wasn’t a shy, shrieking aristocratic innocent. She didn’t ask him to stop, and dear God in heaven, he wasn’t certain he could if she had.

He slipped his fingers under the lace of her pristine white satin corset. Then he unfastened the tiny hook between the swell of her breasts. He cupped the satin covering her breast and heard her first jagged intake of breath, but still she didn’t assist or deny him.

He wanted her, but he wanted her to want him as well. Remembering her interest in his undressing that first night, he felt inspired.

“Unfasten my shirt,” he said.

She did so with mechanical efficiency.

“Slide it off of my shoulders.” He hurriedly removed his cuff links. He had to admit, she was a much better student than he had been at her lessons. “Touch me, Arianne.”

Her hands moved to his chest.

“That’s good.” He returned to the fastenings on her corset. “It doesn’t matter where, but I want to feel your hands on me whenever we’re together. No matter what we do. Do you understand?”

She nodded. He unhooked the fastenings down the front of her corset, then added it to the collection on the mattress. Kneeling before her, he felt her fingers on his shoulders. He slid his hand down the length of her stocking on one leg and lifted her foot to remove her dainty blue shoe. Sliding his hands beneath her drawers, he unfastened her garter and removed the stocking before repeating for the other leg.

Standing before her, he gazed at her clad in her chemise and drawers. Still she neither encouraged nor resisted him. What had that bastard baron done to her? He swept his arm beneath her legs, lifted her into his arms, and carried her to the bed.

“I can’t leave you tonight,” he said, laying her on the mattress. Then he paused to unbutton his trousers and pull off his boots and socks. “Your brother suspects we’re not truly married. If he hears me leave the room, I’m not sure he’ll let me live till morning.” He smiled, but Arianne did not. She had fear in her eyes, and he hesitated, wondering if he was adding to whatever she had suffered.

He lay down beside her and pulled her into his arms. Surely, she had seen the bulge in his drawers, evidence of his desire, but he wouldn’t force himself on her. Her head resting on his chest, he rubbed the top of her head with his chin. “Now tell me what he did to you.”

She stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“Mrs. Summers wrote your brother that she was concerned a baron had taken advantage. I saw how you reacted when you saw him in London. You were obviously running away from something to agree to this adventure.” He trailed his fingertips along her upper arm. “But I want you to tell me. If that bastard baron hurt you, I need to understand how.”

“Why?”

“I don’t wish to repeat his mistakes,” Rafferty said. “Arianne, your brother knows that we are presenting ourselves as married. Lady Weston believes we’ve shared this room. Eva and Mrs. Summers both know of your intentions. The Baron knows what he did. Your hope that no one in England will know of our actions in America grows distant with each passing day.” He shifted, lifting her chin so she couldn’t turn away. “Now, I know you refused my offer of marriage. I know I haven’t a title or great sums of money or elegant manners . . .” She tried to interrupt him, but he continued on. “But I have a great desire for you. If we’re to share this room and purport to be man and wife, then I need to know what that bastard did to you.”

“He didn’t force himself on me.” He felt her swallow. “I allowed him to do what he wished. I thought it was proof of my affection.”

“Has he seen you much as you are now?” He tried to keep his jealous anger from his voice.

“Yes,” she answered. “But it was dark, and there were . . . blankets.”

So he came to her room in the middle of the night, sneaking about like a thieving cutpurse in a dark alley. “Then what happened? Did he kiss you?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “But his kisses . . .”

“Yes?” he encouraged.

“They weren’t like yours. I like your kisses, Rafferty.”

“Ah, darlin’, thank you for that.” He kissed the top of her head and felt her relax against him.

“I let him put his hands on my breasts. I liked that as well.”

“I suppose he did too,” Rafferty said, feeling jealousy flare up again.

“Then he crawled on top of me. He asked if I was ready for him. I wasn’t certain what he meant, but he thrust into me.”

Rafferty felt his teeth on edge. The filthy blackguard was fortunate an ocean existed between them. “Did he hurt you, darlin’?”

She didn’t answer at first, telling him all he needed to know. “I think it was my fault,” she said in a tiny voice. “I didn’t do it right. The next day he announced his engagement to another.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “When did you tell that miserable scoundrel that you weren’t descended from a duke?”

“Earlier that day,” Arianne said. “Why?”

Either the bastard was punishing her for something that wasn’t her fault or he knew that would be his only opportunity to sample Lady Arianne. But she didn’t need to hear that. “You must have believed he loved you,” he said instead.

She nodded. The movement registered on his shoulder. “I trusted him. I wanted him to know about the bloodline before we were committed to each other.”

“And yet he still came to your bed that night, the son of a cur.”

“I thought it was proof that he loved me in spite of the broken bloodline.”

“Arianne . . . the man misused you.” He rolled on his side so he could see into her eyes. “There is nothing wrong with you. What happens between a man and a woman doesn’t have to be painful. It’s like kisses.” He grinned. “Some men know how to kiss a woman; others don’t.” She smiled, which encouraged him. “Let me show you.”

Arianne welcomed his kiss, gentle, healing. She returned the pressure and then slid her hand to the base of his neck, then to his shoulder. There was something thrilling about the touch of bare skin to bare skin. Something that sparked like the tip of a match. She wanted more of that sensation and pressed her chest to his. His hands slipped beneath her chemise and up her back. Soon he massaged her breasts, driving excitement lower. An ache throbbed from her core. She wanted more. She wanted to test Rafferty’s suggestion that intimacy didn’t need to hurt, but what if the problem had been her and not the Baron? What if Rafferty wanted her for this night only and then would abandon her just as the Baron had?

She pushed on his chest, until he stilled. “I can’t do this,” she gasped. “You said my brother suspects we’re not married.”

Rafferty’s eyes were open but unfocused. It took several moments for him to speak. “He suspects, but he doesn’t know. He’s watching for signs, but Arianne, if he discovers that we haven’t exchanged vows, he’ll just make that happen. We’ll be married either way.”

He tugged on her waist, but she shook her head. She wasn’t sure how to explain her confused emotions. She wasn’t married to the Baron and he abandoned her. She wasn’t married to Rafferty. Would he leave her in disgust as well? “This is too similar to before. I’m not ready, Rafferty. If you care for me, you won’t make me do this.”

HE HAD MEANT TO BE GENTLE, TO ALLEVIATE HER FEARS, but she had answered with an intensity that made him forget his original intentions. His hand slipped beneath her chemise to find her breasts. The fullness in his hand, enhanced by the tight nub, shot straight to his groin. Dear God, he wanted her, and he could show her what intimacy truly felt like. Not the painful education the Baron managed.

His hand slipped lower to the soft curve of her waist, then beneath the cotton of her drawers to her hip. She stilled, complaisant, guarded, just as she had been earlier. Damn it, he wasn’t the Baron, using her body with the full knowledge that he would abandon her to the vicious wolves of society. Or was he? After this was over, how could he repair her reputation?

He had to convince her to marry him, common dog that he was. For that, she needed to trust him.

Rafferty withdrew his hand from her drawers and soothed her chemise to cover the skin to her hip. “I want you, Arianne. Make no mistake. But I want you to desire me as well. Until then we’ll just share the bed, but not each other.”

He thought he saw her lips twist in a slight smile before he turned her so her back pressed against his chest. She burrowed against him while he pulled her tight and linked his hand with hers. He kissed the side of her head before he rested his head on the pillow with thoughts of how he was going to survive this outer ring of hell.