Rogues and Ripped Bodices (40 page)

Emma shuddered and peered out of the window for the
hundredth time that morning. The snow was falling heavily and the road to the
house had vanished. A tug at her skirts drew her attention away from the snowy
scenery. She could not help but smile as the five-year-old stuffed her fingers in
her mouth and snuggled into her dark green gown.

“Will we decorate a tree soon,
Mama?” Isabel said around her fingers.

“As soon as your father has
gone to get one. You know he loves to do it himself, darling.” Juggling the
nearly one-year-old baby in her arm, she bent to give Isabel a squeeze. “I am
sure he will want to go straight out and get one as soon as he returns.”

“Will Papa be back soon?”

“Yes, my darling, very soon.”
She hoped. How would he even get through this snow? Alexander had been gone for
three weeks, giving a talk on mountain climbing in London while attending to
some of his duties. She was glad he’d chosen to spend most of his time
instructing on mountain climbing rather than doing it. It seemed to bring him
much enjoyment and she could worry less about him, though he still climbed the
odd Scottish mountain.

“Can I have a sweetmeat?”

Emma released Isabel and
pressed a kiss to her blonde curls before standing. “Yes, but only three. I
don’t want you getting sick again.”

“Thank you, Mama,” the little
girl said before skipping out of the drawing room where the tray of sweetmeats
sat temptingly on the bureau.

Allowing herself a smile, she
turned her attention to peering out of the window once more. The baby in her
arms wriggled and fisted his hands in her hair, making her laugh out loud as
she tried to disengage his tightly closed fist from one of her curls.

With a sigh, she turned away
from the window and strode out of the dining room to the drawing room. Isabel
spun around, a guilty look on her face as her mother entered. The room was
fully decorated with the exception of a tree. Sprigs of greenery ran along the
mantelpiece and a giant nutcracker sat to the side of the fireplace. The
decorations didn’t look as neat and tidy as usual with Isabel being able to
help this year, but they added a nice touch to the rustic room.

Emma turned her attention to
her daughter. “Isabel, did you eat more than three?”

“No, Mama,” she said through a
mouthful of sweetmeats. “Does Frederick want one?”

“I’m sure he does.” The baby
tightened his fist in her hair in agreement. “But he cannot. Besides, it will
be time for his nap soon and then we can finish putting up the decorations.”

“But not the tree?” Isabel’s
bottom lip jutted out.

“Not until your papa is home,”
Emma replied firmly.

“It’s a fine job I am home
then, is it not?”

Emma spun, her heart jumping
with delight. “Alexander!”

Isabel reached her father
before Emma could and he bent to scoop up his daughter and spin her around. He
sat her on his hip and kissed her cheek. Grimacing, he swiped a finger across
her skin. “Have you been eating sweetmeats?”

“Only a few, Papa.”

Emma slipped into his other arm
and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Too many.” She brushed a hand over his
shoulder to dust away some of the snow. “You must be freezing. I didn’t think
you would make it through the snow.”

“I had to leave the carriage in
the village and trek the rest of the way.”

“Alexander, what were you
thinking?”

He wrapped an arm around her
shoulder and dropped a kiss onto Frederick’s head. The baby responded by
finally releasing his mama’s hair and trying to tug his papa’s instead. “I was
thinking I wanted to get home to my family and no snow storm would stop me.”

“Well, you always were
determined,” she said on a sigh.

Alexander put Isabel down. “Why
don’t you go and find Nanny Mary. I think your brother needs a nap and then we
can finish decorating.”

Fingers in her mouth, Isabel
nodded and hurried off to find the nursemaid. Alexander flicked a finger under
the baby’s chin before drawing Emma against him once more. “When he is settled,
shall we, uh, head out for a walk?”

“Aren’t you exhausted?”

He shook his head and sealed
his mouth across hers. Emma sank into him and clung to her husband with her
free hand. His lips had warmed and she drew in the scent and feel of him.

“Never too exhausted for you,”
he said.

“Let us have lunch first. Then
we can take a walk. Just the two of us.”

Alexander sighed and slipped a
hand down to grab her rear through her skirts. “Always making me wait.”

She leaned up to press a firm
kiss to his lips. “You waited almost a year. I’m sure you can wait a few more
hours.”

“Well, my love, you were worth
waiting for.”

Emma gazed into her husband’s
eyes and cupped his jaw. “As were you. Merry Christmas, husband.”

“Merry Christmas, wife.”

When he bent to kiss her firmly
and Frederick squealed between them, Emma uttered up a prayer of thanks for her
husband’s determination to create a proper marriage for them and for her own
courage. She looked forward to many more Christmases with her wonderful family
and many more Christmas seductions too, she hoped.

THE END

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Sinful Deeds
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Tempting
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Kissed
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Sinful Liaisons

A
Cynfell Brothers Book

Samantha
Holt

Chapter One

Oxfordshire, 1897

A
breeze whistled across his nether regions. Pierce grimaced. It could have been
worse, he supposed. At least the day was mild with no sign of rain. He peered
into the distance. Only the deeply grooved road cutting its path through the
gentle hills hinted at civilisation. He grimaced again. Where the bloody hell
was he?

He
curled a fist and began trudging along the grass at the side of the road.
Stones pricked his bare feet.

“Bloody
Goddamn it.”

Pierce
was going to kill Giles if he lived through this. He hadn’t intended to visit
their favourite gambling den, but Giles just
had
to talk him into it. Nor
had he meant to get utterly foxed. He hardly remembered wagering everything
including his clothes. As for how he’d ended up naked on the roadside...

“Bloody
Goddamn it all to hell.”

One
final wager...He had vague recollections. Something to do with a race?
Damnation, if only his head wasn’t so fuzzy. But even then, why had Giles left
him to sleep it off in a field—naked?

The
rumble of a carriage made him stiffen. He wouldn’t get far with his bare feet.
A form of transport would be useful indeed. But who would give a naked man a
ride? Pierce shrugged to himself and turned, cupping one hand over himself to
preserve what little modesty he had left and using the other to gain the
driver’s attention.

The
black, glossy carriage rumbled closer, led by two horses. He saw the driver
glance his way then look again before turning his head away. Dirt spattered his
legs making him jump back as it rolled past.

“Rot in
hell then,” he muttered half-heartedly and resisted the urge to scuff his bare
foot across the ground.

A
command from the driver reached his ears and he held his breath as the horses
came to a halt. The vehicle stopped. Both hands over the family jewels, Pierce
waited. The door swung open.

“Thank
you,” he uttered, lifting his gaze to the heavens, and hurried toward the
carriage. He cursed under his breath when several more rocks jabbed the soles
of his feet.

Trying
to look as noble as one could when naked, he paused in front of the open door.
There, in the dark confines of the vehicle and set against plush royal blue
seats, an elegant redhead skimmed her gaze up and down his body. Even in the
gloom of the carriage, he saw an eyebrow rise. Then he noted the curve of her
lips.

Pierce
stared back. He allowed his own gaze to travel over her, observing the generous
rise of her breasts against a low cut bodice and the slender waist that led to
hips that were emphasised by a bustle. Hair coiled high, it gave him a fine
view of the gems on her neck and ears. From the delicate porcelain skin to the
emeralds casting a faint green hew across it, everything about this woman told
him of her importance.

And her
attractiveness. He had to force his gaze from her breasts or else both hands
wouldn’t conceal anything.

“Get in.”

The
husky command startled him, and he laughed. He’d half-expected her to swoon or
give a startled cry and order the driver to depart.

“You
have my thanks, my lady.” He ducked into the carriage and seated himself
opposite her, his hands firmly shielding what was left of his modesty. Velvet
pricked his behind.

He was
going to kill Giles. He’d string him up from his fingernails. He’d strip him
naked and abandon him in Trafalgar Square. He’d—

“Your Grace.”

“My
lord,” he corrected. He certainly wasn’t a duke and his brother Julian held the
title of marquess. Unless four of his brothers succumbed to something—and God
knows the Cynfell men were as strong as oxen—he would never have anything but a
courtesy title.

“
I
am
Your Grace.”

She
tilted her head to eye him. It was hardly the first time a woman had seen him
naked, and it wouldn’t be the last. Nor was he only used to simpering virgins.
His tended to prefer the more experienced woman. Taking a lady’s innocence held
little appeal. So he had to be used to being appraised so frankly, surely? One
of the women he’d bedded had to have looked at him in such a manner.

And
yet, Pierce did not think so.

It was
her age that did it perhaps. She was older than he. About five years or so by
his reckoning. A more experienced woman and a duchess no less. It certainly
explained why there was no swooning or screaming. A woman of her rank had
likely dealt with many things in her life and a mere naked man wouldn’t startle
her.

“Forgive
me,” he dipped his head in lieu of touching and removing his hat. “Your Grace.
Lord Pierce Cynfell at your service.”

“Cynfell.
I know that name.” She pressed a finger to generous lips.

“My
brother is the Marquess of Lockwood.”

“I was
rather thinking of that female artist—Josephine Cynfell. I have one of her
paintings.”

“You
have excellent taste, Your Grace.”

He
tried not to scowl as he tried to place her. She had to spend time in London
society if she knew of Dante’s wife. Josephine was only recently becoming known
in the art world and word of her talent had not yet spread all over England,
though Pierce had no doubt it would. Dante—a man who had been utterly useless
for quite some time—just about matched his wife in ambition now. Both were
likely making a pretty penny.

He
wished he could say the same of himself.

“My
name is Evelyn Chesworth, Duchess of Ardleigh.”

Ah yes,
he knew the name now, but how in the devil had she figured out what he was thinking?
And why had he never paid attention to her before? She had to have attended at
least a few of the events he did when he wasn’t gambling.

Pierce
attempted not to squirm. Would she not at least order the coach to go so he
could put an end to his...naked situation? He had nothing of which to be
ashamed. He was strong and healthy. Women loved his body. But this woman’s
brazen stare made him want something more than just his hands to cover himself.

“How is
it you have come to be on the roadside in nought but your skin, Lord Cynfell?”

“Pierce.
You should call me Pierce.” He turned on his most charming smile. It was the
one that made women give him a second chance. The one that made sure he didn’t
live like a pauper even though he practically was one.

It
failed.

One
slender red eyebrow arched impossibly high. “I hardly know you, my lord.”

“Considering
I am sitting naked in your carriage, I think we can dispense with formalities.
That is, if you allow it, Your Grace.”

Those
full lips curved again. He watched the movement—riveted.

“You
are indeed. Very well, you may call me Evelyn.”

“A
pleasure to meet you, Evelyn,” he drawled. If he was going to be at the mercy
of this woman, he needed to get her on his side. Charm would have to be his
friend today.

Apparently
it was lost on her. It seemed he had no friends. The cool cast to her
expression remained, and he had the distinct impression she was enjoying his
uncomfortable state. The lady was a masochist, surely?

A few
more seconds passed. He shifted and lifted his gaze to the ornate roof of the
carriage. When he glanced back at the duchess, her tiny smile had expanded.
Finally, she leaned her head out of the door and called to the driver.

“Bramwell,
give me your jacket please.”

There
was a creak and a rock of the carriage, and a jacket was thrust through the
open door. She passed it over to him and shut the door. After she tapped on the
roof, the vehicle began its journey onward.

Pierce
fought to get the jacket on one-handed whilst keeping himself covered. He
failed and the woman’s lips quirked. Duchess or not, he was beginning to
dislike her. However, he had to admit he couldn’t really take the moral high
ground. He too would have found a naked man at the side of the road amusing.
However, he’d rather hoped finding charity in a woman would have afforded him a
little less embarrassment.

He finally
managed to get the jacket on and wrapped it about himself. When he peered at
her, he noted a slight stain on her cheeks. Ah, so she wasn’t completely
unaffected by him.
Excellent
.

“Pray
tell, where are we going?”

“Fairchester
Hall—my home.”

Pierce
grimaced. Was he likely to end up being run off by an angry husband? Or worse.
Called out for a duel? A naked duel. It wouldn’t be a first for him, he
supposed, but he didn’t much fancy dying in the buff.

“Am I
to expect a...uh...frosty welcome?”

“Not at
all. My son is in Europe.”

He
studied the elegant curve of her cheek. The boy had to be a whelp, surely? She
didn’t seem old enough to have a grown up son. But no husband? Or was he simply
elsewhere? He had to know. Even if it was none of his business, he had to know.
And he wasn’t quite sure why that was.

“And
your husband?”

“I am a
widow. My son inherited the title three years ago.”

“Forgive
me, I’m sorry for your loss.”

A
slight hint of anguish fluttered across her face. It surprised him as he hadn’t
seen anything other than the faintest flicker of amusement from her so far.
Lord knows, love between dukes and duchesses rarely existed but it seemed this
woman must have felt something for him.

“Thank
you,” she said coolly. He had the distinct impression she didn’t much want his
sympathies. “Anyway, whilst my son is studying in Europe I am entirely alone,
so, do not fear, no one shall be wanting to chase you off.”

“I must
thank you for stopping for me. It was brave of you.”

Evelyn
shook her head, causing her curls to brush her neck like a lover. What would it
feel like to stroke that gentle arch? He found himself anxious to know. She
really was a remarkably beautiful woman.

“What
threat could you pose to me when you clearly have no weapon?”

“I hope
you do not take that philosophy all the time. At risk of having you throw me
out on my arse, you make a tempting prize and it would not be hard to overpower
you.”

“You
forget I have footmen and a driver,” she pointed out.

“Yes,
but you are exceptionally beautiful. A brawl with a mere three men would not
seem so great a cost.” Her cheeks grew a little pinker and her reaction
gratified him. “Nevertheless, I am grateful you stopped for me.”

Evelyn
leaned back against the cushions and studied him. “So, Cynfell, why exactly
were you naked on the roadside?”

He
pinched the bridge of his nose. He supposed he owed her an explanation and it
wasn’t as though his humiliation could get any worse.

“I
believe I made a wager. Not sure of the details but apparently it included my
clothes.”

She
pressed her lips together as though fighting a laugh. “You like to gamble.”

He
shrugged. “It is my one weakness.”

More
than a weakness. It ate him up inside sometimes. After Julian had threatened to
cut him off when he’d racked up yet more debts, he’d tried to stay away, he
really had. But what else was he to do? He needed to pay off what he owed, and
a man like himself had no way of earning money. Giles had convinced him last
night was his night—the night he’d make his fortune and put everything to
rights.

But no.
Now he’d have to go crawling to Julian and ask for more money. Hell, he
couldn’t even go cap-in-hand seeing as he had not a scrap of clothing on him
with the exception of the borrowed jacket. A jacket that smelled of cheap
tobacco and a little sweat.

She
didn’t probe him any further. For that, he was grateful. Being naked in her
carriage was certainly a low point for him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to add to his
humiliation by telling her the story of a rich boy turned poor. Damn, how he
hated to be a cliché.

The
carriage took its time travelling through private land—all belonging to her
young son. Lucky boy indeed. Fairchester Hall turned out to be as grand as he’d
expected. Entirely square with long windows and pillars across the entire
front.

Evelyn
pressed open the glass window again and called to the driver. “Around the back
please.”

“Ashamed
of me?”

“I can
parade you through the house if you wish. My servants are very discrete.”

He
considered being eyed by the maids and a likely matronly housekeeper, and
shuddered. “The back will be fine.”

They
came to a halt at the servants’ entrance and there was some awkwardness as he
was forced to ignore the usual etiquette and get out last once her footman had
handed her down. Pierce narrowed his gaze at the lad whose lips twitched at the
sight of Pierce. The smile rapidly dropped when he took in the size of Pierce
compared to him. Though he wasn’t an overly large man, he dwarfed the footman
and clearly had a great deal more strength.