Touch of a Scoundrel (Touch of Seduction 3) (30 page)

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Authors: Mia Marlowe

BOOK: Touch of a Scoundrel (Touch of Seduction 3)
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His gaze swung back around and fastened itself on her. “And since I’m always a gentleman, when it’s time to leap off the roof . . .” He dipped in a low bow. “It’ll be ladies first.”
 
Why on earth was she fighting him? She struggled so on the stairs, he’d finally had to slap her and throw her over his shoulder as if she were a sack of wheat.
Or Egyptian rye,
he thought with a grin. That’s what the grain was supposed to be after all. The splendiferous, glorious secret ingredient that made him strong as an ox.
Now that he thought on it, he could probably have carted an ox up the winding staircase, through the attic, and out over the rain runnel that divided the butterfly roof that capped his four-story town house. Of course, the way Miss Farnsworth screamed and pounded his back and carried on, an ox might have been less trouble.
His butler Farley had appeared briefly to investigate the unholy racket the woman was making, but when Kingsley snarled at him—quite ferociously—Farley had retreated back down the stairs, his eyes swollen to the size of dinner plates.
“Yes, they were too that big,” he said to the scarlet imp bouncing on Miss Farnsworth’s heels. “I am not exaggerating in the slightest.”
“Lord Kingsley, you’re not well,” the infuriating woman said, as if he’d been talking to her in the first place. “Put me down and we’ll—”
He swung her down from his shoulder and dropped her near the front parapet. She landed on her backside with an “oof.” Her skirts hitched up, baring her legs to the knees.
She had well-turned ankles and comely calves.
His cock swelled at the sight and for a moment he lost track of why they’d come to the roof. The trio of chimney pots on the next house leaned over and made noises of disapproval that sounded remarkably like his stern old nanny. He shot them a glare and they straightened, pretending they hadn’t been hovering over him like a clutch of old biddies riding herd on debutantes at a ball.
The red imp that had ridden on Miss Farnsworth’s ankles was joined by three more little gargoyles bounding across the rooftops and leaping over the wrought iron railing that edged his parapet. He rather liked them and didn’t care if they spied on him so long as they didn’t try to argue.
“Lord Kingsley,” she said, tugging down her skirt. “We should call a physician for you.”
“I don’t need a doctor,” he said as fire began creeping through his veins. He rubbed his forearms, trying to extinguish the slow burn. Now he remembered why they were on the roof. “I need to see if you can fly.”
“No!” She wailed when he hauled her to her feet and started manhandling her toward the railing.
“Emma!” A voice came from the street below.
Kingsley leaned over the wrought iron and peered down.
Damn.
It was Devon. He was clambering out of a hansom with his brother Theodore and that wastrel Northrop in tow. The earl bounded to Kingsley’s front door and began pounding on it as if he’d tear it from the hinges.
“Such a fuss over nothing,” Kingsley said. “Fly down there and tell him to stop it, there’s a good girl.”
He lifted her over the rail and dropped her.
CHAPTER
34
E
mma twisted and grasped at the wrought iron as she went airborne. She was able to wrap the fingers of one hand around a picket. The smooth metal slid down her palm till she came to an abrupt stop where it met the brick façade of Kingsley’s town house. She felt a sickening crunch at her wrist and her shoulder wrenched painfully, but she steeled herself not to let go.
“Hold on, Emma,” Griffin shouted from below her.
The sound of his voice gave her the strength to swing her other arm up and grab the bottom of a more substantial post topped with a spear-like finial. She hung suspended above the street, her cheek scraped against rough bricks, her skirts billowing in the breeze.
“Oh, Miss Farnsworth, I’m so disappointed,” Kingsley said from above her. “And you thought you could fly. You know what this proves, don’t you?”
She didn’t dare look up. She hardly dared breathe for fear of losing her grip, but she heard Kingsley scuffling around above her as if he were tussling with someone. It couldn’t be Griffin. She could still hear him bashing at the door below.
“Don’t rush me, I’ll tell her. I said I would, didn’t I? Get off, you demon spawn!” Kingsley’s voice rose to a hysterical pitch, then dropped to maddening calm as he knelt to peer through the rail at her. “You’re simply not worthy, my dear.”
A crackle of splintering wood reached her ears. Griffin had broken through. Hope shot through her like a second wind, but her palms were clammy. Her grip slipped by a hairbreadth.
“No! Not them,” Kingsley yelled and leaped suddenly to his feet. “There are hundreds of them. Thousands. They’re spewing out of the Dome of St. Paul’s and heading this way. You’ve got to fly, Emmaline. They’ll be on you in a moment.”
He knelt down again and tried to uncurl her fingers from around the post, bending back her nails and scratching at her skin. She pleaded with him to stop, but even when he kicked at her fingers, she wouldn’t let go.
“You’ve got to . . . I can’t stop them . . . there’s no help for it . . . they’re here!” He shrieked and leaped on top of the iron railing, balanced between earth and sky. “Save yourself!”
Then with an unholy wail, he propelled himself into space, arms windmilling as he fell. A dull thud cut off the scream abruptly. She made the mistake of looking down and saw Kingsley’s body splayed obscenely on the cobbles below.
Her groin tingled with the sense of impending destruction. If her grip gave, she’d be next. Emmaline squeezed her eyes shut and focused every bit of strength into her fingers.
Someone was grappling through the bars, grasping her forearms and trying to uncurl her fingers. Panic clawed her belly. Whoever or whatever had chased Kingsley from the roof was trying to send her to her death as well.
“No, stop,” she begged.
“Emma, sweetheart, let go. I’ve got you.”
She looked up into Griffin’s handsome face, drawn with equal parts concern and determination. He had a firm hold on her forearms so she forced herself to release the iron and clutched at Griffin’s strong wrists. She scrabbled her feet against the brick, trying to help him pull her up, but there was little need. Griffin had her safely up and over the iron railing again by the time Theodore and Northrop pounded up the stairs and onto the rooftop behind him.
She sagged into his arms, burying her face in his chest. Oh, the smell of him, all warm and male and safe. Always safe.
“I’ve got you,” he repeated as if he scarcely believed it himself. “And I’ll never let you go.”
“You’d have to drive me away.” Emmaline squeezed him tightly. She’d never want for anything else as long as she could be near this man, listening to his great heart hammering beneath her ear.
 
“Griffin, what are you doing here?” Emmaline knuckled her eyes to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. His smiling face didn’t waiver. Dawn streaked in through the leaded window behind him, silhouetting his nude form with light and rendering him fair as an angel.
Except that his wicked grin wasn’t the least angelic.
“Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony?”
“I couldn’t wait.” He threw back the covers and slid in beside her. “In a few hours, we’ll be married, but once the household wakes, you’ll be surrounded by women clucking over you.”
“They’ll only be clucking to make sure I’m dressed and pressed and decked out like a bride worthy of you.”
“A lot of bother for nothing.” He covered her mouth in a possessive kiss.
She wedged her arms between them and pushed on his chest. “Come now, a girl wants to impress her bridegroom.”
“You want to impress me? Take off that nightshift.”
Her lips curved in a feline smile. It would be some time before the upstairs maid came to her chamber to begin her wedding day toilette. Then after the ceremony in the Devonwood Park chapel, they’d be surrounded by family and well-wishers till well after midnight. She wouldn’t be alone with Griffin again for hours.
Emmaline wiggled out from under him and then pulled the nightshift off over her head.
“We’ve been so poisonously conventional for the past fortnight,” she said between fevered kisses. “Are you sure you want to ruin our streak of unusually good behavior?”
“Absolutely.”
After the death of Lord Kingsley, there’d been a brief inquiry by the Peelers. Once Emmaline showed them the reddish brown substance hidden inside the Tetisheri statue and Griffin produced the letter from Baxter’s nephew describing the adverse effects of ingesting it, the authorities were willing to accept their account and ruled his demise an unfortunate accident.
“St. Anthony’s fire, eh?” the constable said. “I’ve heard tell of the like. And it comes from tainted rye, you say. Makes a body want to swear off bread, indeed it does.”
The tale lost nothing in the telling once they returned to Devonwood Park. The house party guests were spell-bound in horrified fascination as Theodore and Northrop relayed the particulars. The early morning duel was never mentioned since everyone assumed Griffin had injured his arm during the course of Emmaline’s rescue.
And of course, the merry company of guests completely understood when her affection transferred to Lord Devonwood from Theodore. He had led the charge up to the roof and snatched her from the brink, after all.
“Yesterday, I overheard Lady Bentley nattering on about the fact that there may be another wedding in the family soon,” Emmaline said as Griffin kissed his way down her throat. His lips made her skin shiver with pleasure.
Griffin’s flat belly jiggled in a low chuckle. “It’s like to be at the point of a shotgun if Teddy gets caught with Lady Cressida in another game of Sardines.”
“No, it wasn’t—” Emma’s breath caught when his lips teased over a nipple without stopping to suckle it. “She meant Louisa and Lord Northrop.”
“Louisa’s leading that dog a merry chase, but he may yet run the vixen to ground.” His dark head disappeared under the sheets and found a place to rest between her breasts. “Fortunately, it’ll be Teddy’s problem in a week.”
Theodore had volunteered to step up and deal with the issues associated with the estate while Griffin and Emma went on their honeymoon. First, they’d escort her father to Görbersdorf for treatment and while he convalesced there, the happy couple would tour the capitals of Europe—always taking care to avoid the ones which had an outstanding arrest warrant for the bride, of course.
That meant Ted would see to the disposition of the influx of funds brought to the estate by the timely return of the
Rebecca Goodspeed
. It also meant he’d be stepping into Griffin’s shoes with respect to their sister.
“Teddy’s going to be very busy,” Emmaline said breathlessly. The way Griffin teased her breasts while his warm breath swirled over them made her toes curl. “Perhaps Lady Cressida is safe for a while yet, then.”
“Yes, but you aren’t.” He rose up and traced the thin line of gold at her throat. He circled the locket with her mother’s picture inside it that Monty had given her as a wedding present and suddenly his eyes glazed over. A vein bulged on his forehead.
Emma cupped his cheeks. “Griffin. Come back.”
He moved his fingers away from the locket and rolled onto his back.
“You had a vision,” she guessed.
He nodded.
“Oh, Griffin, I’m sorry. I know you hate it when the future presses in on you. I shouldn’t have worn the locket to bed and—”
“No, it’s all right,” he said with wonderment. “Did I tell you that I
Saw
you drink some of Kingsley’s tea?”
“I put the cup to my lips, but I didn’t drink. Your vision was wrong.”
“No, it was incomplete,” he said. “You had a choice about what to do and you exercised it, something I couldn’t
See,
no matter how clear the
Sending
seemed. The future is not fixed. We have a choice. In the past, the problem has always come when I tried to choose for someone else.”
She ran her hand over his chest, enjoying the crisp dark hairs that whorled around his brown nipples. “Do you want to tell me about this new vision?”
A smile curved the corner of his mouth. “We’re going to have a child within a year.”
Emmaline sat up. A husband, a home, a baby to love. Her heart threatened to burst out of her ribs. “Will it be a boy or a girl?”
He leaned on an elbow and splayed his other hand protectively over her belly. “I think I’ll let you be surprised.”
“Oh, you!” She rolled on top of him, pinning his long body beneath her. “You’re going to live to regret that.”
He grasped her hips and slid into her. “Regret,” he said with a wicked grin, “is a waste of time.”
Have you tried the other titles in Mia’s series?
 
 
Touch of a Thief
 
 
 
London’s most talented criminal is about to be fingered. . .
 
 
Lady Viola Preston can relieve a gentleman of the studs at his wrists without his being any the wiser and pick any lock devised by man in less than a minute. But she’s careful to wear gloves when she steals jewels. Because when Viola touches a gemstone with her bare skin, it “speaks” to her, sending disturbing visions—visions almost as unsettling as the sight of the cool-eyed stranger who catches her red-handed.
 
Now Viola will only be stealing at Greydon Quinn’s behest. And even more daunting than the violent history of the red diamond he’s after is the prospect of a night in the devastatingly handsome lieutenant’s arms. Touch has always been Viola’s weakness, and the full body-to-body contact Quinn has in mind is about to shatter her defenses and set her senses reeling.
Touch of a Rogue
 
 
 
He can keep her safe . . . or be her very ruin . . .
 
 
Jacob Preston has three requirements for a woman desiring access to his bed: She must be enthusiastic in affairs of passion, jaded in matters of the heart, and—to ensure the first two qualifications—she must be married.
Lady Julianne Cambourne has all the makings of a passionate lover, and she certainly shows no signs of sentimentality. . . but her unmarried status should render her firmly off limits to Jacob.
Instead, it proves only a temptation. One that grows stronger when she comes to him in desperation, looking for the kind of answers only he can give. For beyond his rakish reputation, Jacob is known for the mysterious—even otherworldly—power of detection he commands through his sense of touch. And Julianne, surrounded by long-hidden secrets that threaten to ensnare her in a deadly trap, will do whatever it takes to recruit his skills . . . using every form of persuasion at her disposal....

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