The Rogue Prince (17 page)

As he rose to his full height, Maggie pressed herself against him, as if to shield her body from any further caresses. “Aye, it's nearly too much,” he said quietly. “But there is more.”

Tom felt her trembling, so he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her. “Don't be nervous.”

“I-I'm not.”

 

No, she wasn't nervous. She was in a full panic. No one had ever touched or kissed her so intimately. The pleasure he gave had been entirely absent throughout her marriage. And she feared she would never be able to please him in return.

Maggie felt as though she was floating in a sea of absolute sensation, and she couldn't even
tell which way was north. She should have known Thomas's lovemaking would not resemble Julian's in the least. Yet she hadn't known the two experiences would be worlds apart, that with Thomas, it would not include any part of lying flat on her back and waiting for him to do what he'd come for.

Once again, she felt like that other woman who'd put the candle in the window. Someone bold and confident, who could ask her lover for instruction.

“I don't know what to do,” she whispered.

“There's no recipe, Maggie. Do whatever comes to you.”

“But I—I—”

He kissed the corner of her jaw and she sighed, her eyes drifting closed. “There are no mistakes in the bedchamber, sweetheart.”

She slipped her fingers up his chest and around to the back of his neck. Rising onto the tips of her toes, she drew him down for her kiss. He swept his hands down to her bottom, pulling her flush against the hard ridge of his erection.

“Touch me,” he said.

“You cannot imagine how much I want to.”

His breath caught at her words, and she realized she'd said them aloud. And yet she was not embarrassed. She was glad he knew how she felt.

She created a fraction of space between them and lowered her hands down to his waist where his erection strained against her, hard and hot, impatient for her touch. There was a small bead of moisture at the tip, and Maggie covered it with her
palm, then spread her fingers down its length, encircling him firmly.

“That's it, love. Aye, I've lived for your touch these past few days.”

She stroked him, discovering which caresses made him groan with pleasure, learning every inch of him.

“Lower, Maggie. Cup me.”

He kissed her madly as she felt the sacs beneath his shaft, and used both hands on him, one to fondle him, the other to stroke his erection.

He suddenly broke their kiss and lifted her into his arms. Taking her to the bed, he set her down on the soft mattress and stretched out over her. Maggie felt an instant of panic, and fought against the reticence she'd felt with Julian. She opened for Thomas.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

She wasn't aware that she'd squeezed them shut.

“Look at me when I come into you.”

He held himself up with one thickly muscled arm, and eased her legs apart. Maggie slipped her hands around his neck and held on as he entered her all at once.

It was not uncomfortable at all. In fact, it felt nothing like the act she'd suffered through with Julian.

He started to move, the rhythm of his body slow and languid at first. Pleasure built inside her as he increased the pace, starting in her womb and extending outward. She wrapped her legs
around his waist and angled her bottom to maximize contact with his body with every stroke.

“Christ, yes!” he rasped.

The sensations in her womb suddenly flashed in a tight surge that was beyond anything she'd felt before. Her muscles tightened and her womb quivered with a fierce intensity that took her well past simple pleasure. It was sheer ecstasy, but in the midst of her contractions, Thomas withdrew abruptly, spilling his seed on her stomach.

Her body quaked for want of his. She felt bereft when he pulled away, even though he still lay between her legs. He reached across her and found a cloth to wipe his seed from her belly, then rolled to his side, pulling her with him.

His heart beat rapidly against her chest, and Maggie took a tremulous breath while her own heart slowed. He smoothed her hair from her forehead and gathered the uncontrolled mass of hair at the back of her head while he kissed her so gently Maggie could scarcely believe the tumult they had experienced only moments before.

She closed her eyes and took a long breath as reality struck her. She'd taken a lover, one who hadn't seemed to notice, or care about, the thick scarring on her thigh. He'd passed his hands over every inch of her legs and hardly even paused at the site of her old fracture. He hadn't noticed the silvery marks that remained after the birth of her children, and when he'd taken down her hair, he'd touched it as though it were made of coppery silk. He'd kissed her so intimately it had taken all the strength from her legs.

He thought she was enticing.

She hugged him close. “What's this?” she asked, feeling a smooth ridge of skin on his back.

“Nothing. An accident when I was a child,” he said quietly. “Do you think Kimbridge is aware that you will not be taking a ride with him tomorrow?”

“Please don't remind me.”

He pulled her even closer. “Come out to my estate tomorrow.”

“With the children?”

“Not this time,” he replied. “I want you all to myself.”

Her heart warmed, and she was afraid it would soon be in danger of breaking. As Victoria had said, paramours were meant to be temporary.

Maggie could not allow herself to think of that now, not when he slid his leg up between hers, pressing against the spot that ached for his touch. “What about all the people you mentioned before? Your staff at Delamere House.”

“I have a much better plan now.” He gathered her close, tucking her head under his chin. “I will come for you at three.”

T
om returned to Delamere House before dawn, aware that he could not spend his entire day awaiting the moment he could collect Maggie and take her out to the huntsman's cottage. Much as he wanted to.

The memory of her touch was burned into his brain. She'd started as a trusting pupil, and quickly become an avid student who mastered every technique to drive him wild. She'd responded to his caresses as though she'd never been touched before, and her arousal had fired his own.

He wanted her still.

It was a perfect morning for a ride, cool, but sunny, and it reminded him of his days as a boy at Lockhaven Stables. Life had seemed so simple then, his future assured and comfortable. And then he'd encountered Shefford and Blackmore.

It was still early. Tom changed clothes, then left the house and went alone to the stable where he saddled his mare. He missed the freedom of his vast acres in New York, where there were no
expectations of him and no pretense to maintain. If all went well, he'd return there with his parents and sister. It was only a matter of weeks.

He mounted Marcaida and headed east at a slow trot, watching as the sun's rays inched up through the trees. He hoped the ride would help him to set aside his thoughts of Maggie so he could consider the previous night's encounter with Foveaux. The commandant had never before figured into Tom's plans for revenge, but his presence in London presented a challenge and an opportunity Tom could not ignore.

The man had done well, having been promoted to the rank of general. Tom knew Foveaux had owned property in New South Wales, and it seemed he had some fair amount of money at this stage of his life. He and his wife looked prosperous, if not seriously wealthy.

Tom didn't know if it would be possible to discredit him and take his commission from him, but he could take his wealth. That would give Tom only a fraction of the satisfaction he wanted, and it would be worthwhile only if Foveaux knew that it was the ex-convict Thomas Thorne who had done the damage to him.

He considered what to do as he kept riding, finding himself heading more south than east, toward Town.

And yet he could not arrive in Hanover Square just yet. Nor could he haul Maggie onto the back of his horse and ride away with her. Instead, he went to Limmer's Hotel, where he broke his fast
while reading the sporting journals, and listening to gossip about horses. He paid close attention, learning all that he could about Arrendo's competition.

 

“Throw it to me again, Mama!” Zachary called as he backed away from Maggie, across the lawn. The horse riders were out in force in the park, as were a number of fashionable ladies, casually strolling with their parasols up, holding the arms of their escorts. Maggie tried not to miss her own escort, the man whose touch had caused rivers of pure heaven to flow through her veins. She could wait the few hours before she would see him again without splintering into mad bits of anticipation.

Only because she had to.

Besides, her children needed her attention, and their jaunt to the park helped to calm her nerves.

Maggie tossed the ball and her son almost caught it. She laughed as he lunged and missed, then ran to recover it.

“That boy has an overabundance of energy,” said Nurse Hawkins.

Maggie just smiled, her body still sparkling with a deep satisfaction that was unlike anything she'd ever known, coupled with a contradictory eagerness to repeat everything she'd shared with Thomas. Even now, she could feel his lips upon her shoulder, her breast, and even down
there
, where he'd known exactly how to touch her, how to bring her to climax, again and again.

Maggie understood now that Julian's lovemaking had been cursory. He had hurried through it as nothing more than a perfunctory duty.

Perhaps it was her own fault that she hadn't figured out how to bring forth the same kind of passion with her husband as she had with Thomas. Yet she had not known what to do.

And Julian had never bothered to show her. Why would he, when he could experience passion with women of his own choosing, and merely take care of his obligation with the plain, naïve wife he'd married.

She would not brood over it now, nor could she dwell on the questions that had arisen the moment she'd awakened alone. She was entirely unaware of the conventions of her new situation, and found herself unable to stop thinking about the love affair that still caused tingles of desire to resonate through her. The quiet, predictable life she'd enjoyed in the country had changed, irrevocably.

She didn't believe she could ever go back to the existence she'd known before Thomas. She was very different from the woman who'd come away from Cambridgeshire with her children only a few days before, and she needed to acquire some sophistication. Obviously, a widow in her position could have no expectations of the man in her bed—nothing beyond the night's pleasure. Thomas had made her no promises, nor had Maggie asked for any. And she knew he would leave her behind one day.

The thought of it made her feel more than a little melancholic, but she gave herself a firm reminder that she had no claims on him. He was her paramour. She could not think the way she'd done as a young wife with a husband, with prospects for the future. This was entirely different. She and Thomas had followed no customary courtship, and he could not have made his desires more plain. Maggie needed to reconcile herself to the knowledge that there was no future for them, nothing beyond the next few weeks.

If that.

Desultorily, she tossed the ball to Zachary again. Her situation was so very different now than when she'd married Julian. And now that her husband was gone, she did not trust Shefford to take care of her family, not when he'd made such a mess of Blackmore Manor and all of Julian's holdings. Which left it to Maggie to manage things. She had much to do in order to salvage and hold on to whatever she could of Zachary's birthright.

It was perfectly clear that Shefford intended to manipulate her into doing his wishes, whether that be marrying Mr. Kimbridge, or wheedling information—and funds—from Thomas. Maggie intended to do neither. She was going deal with her troubles herself, and keep the caricatures for Mr. Brown and her resulting income a secret. No one would ever need know of her employment or her liaison with Thomas.

It was no one's concern but her own, and she could not bear to think of what would happen to
her reputation if either secret was discovered.

At least Thomas planned to stay in London long enough to race Shefford's horses, which gave them at least four weeks, but she did not know what he intended to do after that. Perhaps his business with the government would be completed by then and he would return to his home.

Maggie pressed a hand to her chest. She had children to raise, an estate to manage, and debts to pay. When Thomas left, their affair would be over and she would be left alone, just as she'd been for the past eight years.

Even so, she'd been little more than a green girl up until a week ago, when she'd opened her eyes and realized that all was not well. Never again would she fool herself into believing what she hoped was true.

“Zachary, let me tuck in your shirt,” she called, aware of the way he must appear to the fashionable couples who strolled by—an ill-bred boy from the country.

“Catch me, Mama!” He ran to the low branch of a tree where he jumped up and hung by his hands. He quickly swung his legs up, giving the impression of a wild animal on a spit. He could not be more indecorous.

Luckily, Nurse Hawkins hurried over to retrieve him, but not before two supremely fashionable ladies walked past, looking down their noses at their small, unruly party. They said nothing as they passed, but the flame-haired one glared at Maggie before moving away.

“Er, my lady…” Hawkins said quietly. “Isn't that…?”

Maggie swallowed back the hurt she felt at her sister's obvious snub. No matter how often it happened, it still stung. “Yes, it is. My sister Charlotte.” The one who believed she'd been most injured by Maggie's supposed recklessness. If not for Maggie's loud and horrified revelation of Chatterton's perversion, Charlotte would be a duchess today.

A vastly unhappy one, no doubt, considering where her husband's interests would lie—but she would be a duchess, nonetheless.

Maggie could not meet Nurse Hawkins's gaze just then, but turned away from the walk to pick up Lily, who was perfectly behaved, as always. She hurried toward Zachary, taking his grubby hand in hers. She would speak to him later about proper park behavior. “Come on, let's go to the pond. I'm sure there will be some ducks to chase.”

After twenty years, her family still held her responsible for Chatterton's assault, as though
she
had been the one who'd instigated his horrible behavior. She'd been unfairly punished for exposing him for what he was, and blamed for his subsequent despair and suicide.

She'd felt responsible for years, and it was only after her experience in the marital bed that she understood how truly monstrous Chatterton had been. And what he'd intended to do to her that afternoon in the deserted nursery. Something had been dreadfully wrong with the man to behave in
such a manner, cousin or not. Charlotte's fiancé…or not.

Her sisters' rejection no longer mattered. They'd all managed to acquire decent husbands, in spite of the Chatterton affair. Maggie took a deep breath and allowed herself to feel cleansed of their vitriol. She would observe the proprieties with her mother and siblings, but nothing more.

Maggie and Hawkins followed Zachary as he ran in the direction of the duck pond, and Maggie called to him to wait before crossing the bridle path. He turned and looked at her as impatiently as only a five-year-old could do, but then his expression changed, and he broke into a broad smile.

“Thorne!” he shouted.

At that, Zachary came running toward Maggie, veering past her to greet the horseman who was approaching from the direction of Town.

Her heart fluttered at the sight of her prince, dismounting to capture a speeding Zachary in his arms. “Hello, young man.”

The sound of his voice sent waves of anticipation through Maggie, and she forced a composure she did not feel. Her sisters might think little of her, but that was not true of Thomas. He made her feel precious and unique.

He came toward her, carrying Zachary and leading his horse.

“Mama, it's Thorne!” Zac turned to the man who held him. “Did you come to see us?”

“Of course,” Thomas said, though Maggie was sure that was not true. He was a man of many
responsibilities and she was only a diversion, no matter how precious he made her feel. “Who else would I want to see?” He'd given no indication that he'd intended to return before three o'clock, and he couldn't have known they were coming to the park. Maggie had not even known it until an hour ago.

She reminded herself that she had no right to wonder whether he'd returned to Delamere House after leaving her bed, or if he'd had appointments in Town. Who he met and what he did were not her business. A mistress would never ask.

Zachary ran ahead. “We're going to see the ducks!”

“I'll just make sure he doesn't get into trouble, shall I?” Nurse Hawkins scooped up Lily into her arms and hurried to catch up to Zac.

Maggie's skin prickled with awareness and her chest filled with excitement at the sight of him. His gaze was warm, and held the secret knowledge of the intimate hours they'd spent together. Maggie shivered with the memory of the wanton and altogether magnificent kisses they'd shared, and felt slightly breathless with expectations of the afternoon they would spend together.

Thomas fell into step beside her as though he belonged there, keeping a proper distance between them. And yet his eyes held hers as they walked.

She looked away, afraid her own eyes showed too much. She
really
needed to cultivate some sophistication. Surely a mistress would know how to mask her emotions.

“Zachary is very happy to see you,” Maggie said in an attempt to lighten the moment.

“Maggie,” Thomas said, his voice low and seductive. “I can still taste you.”

Her breath caught.

“I want more.”

Arousal coursed through her, making her feel warm all over, and not a little shaky. Her stays pinched, and the cloth of her chemise felt rough against her skin. She forced herself to contain what she felt, for they were in a public place, and there was nowhere they could go to assuage their desires.

“You should not say such things.”

“That doesn't change the truth of it.”

Maggie swallowed and kept walking, unsure how she could keep going without touching him, without feeling his lips on hers. She looked for a secluded area—a copse of trees, or a hidden pavilion—any place where she could quench the fire he flamed inside her. And yet such recklessness was impossible. Purely ridiculous. She could no more make love with him in the park than she could fly.

They arrived at the pond where Nurse Hawkins held Lily safely in her arms and Zachary tossed bits of grass into the water toward the ducks. They quacked and swam closer, much to her son's delight.

But Maggie could hardly appreciate his glee while Thomas stood within reach, and she was unable to touch him. “What time is it?” she whispered.

A muscle in his jaw jumped. “Still morning,” he rasped. He cleared his throat and took pity on them both, putting some distance between them as he strode toward Zac. “Have you ever made a paper boat?”

Zachary looked up at Thomas with curiosity. “A
paper
boat? How would it ever float?”

“Shall we see?” Thomas reached up to his saddle and brought down a newspaper.

Maggie sensed no interruption in the intensity of Thomas's attention, even though he was engaging her son. His voice held the promise of pleasures to come, and as his big, capable hands started to make folds in the newspaper, Maggie quaked at the knowledge of what those hands would soon be doing, with her.