Her Wicked Proposal: The League of Rogues, Book 3 (24 page)

“Ready?” Emily called out as she came down the stairs. She wore a pair of breeches and a loose-fitting shirt and coat.

“What is that you’re wearing?” Godric demanded.

“What’s wrong?” Emily spun around, glancing down at herself.

He waved a hand at her. “You are wearing men’s clothing.”

“Oh, that, yes. Much better suited for an adventure, don’t you think?”

“Adventure?” Godric groaned in annoyance, but there wasn’t time to argue.

“Indeed. Let’s go.”

He took her arm and helped her down to the waiting coach. He prayed they wouldn’t be too late.

* * * * *

Had it only been two weeks since Anne had married Cedric? How was it even possible that she could know such happiness in such a short time? Life with Cedric had settled into a perfect rhythm. They did so much together: dining, playing, lovemaking. Long conversations would end wrapped in one another’s arms, forgetting what they had even been talking about. Each day brought new discoveries as they explored each other’s bodies and souls. It was almost inconceivable to believe she could be this happy.

Anne lounged back in Cedric’s bed.
Their bed
. She’d ceased sleeping in her own chamber. She surveyed the mess they’d made of the bedroom this time. Clothes hung from every surface. She giggled. They’d been a little too enthusiastic in their latest bout of lovemaking. Cedric lay sprawled out on his stomach, naked and uncaring. His eyes were closed, one arm tucked under his pillow, the other curled around her waist.

“What are you laughing about?” His voice was heavy with sleep.

“Us. I’m afraid your valet will be distressed at the new mess we’ve made.”

“A few wrinkled shirts and trousers won’t distress the fellow. He is glad to see me happy.”

Anne rested one of her palms over his arm about her waist. “And before the accident? You were unhappy then?”

Cedric’s sigh told her everything. “Somewhat. Ever since my parents died…it has been hard. I was close to them. There was so much love in our house. My parents were a love match, you see. To lose the life they brought to…” Cedric was unable to continue.

“We don’t have to talk about this.”

Cedric looked toward her. “No. I need to. It’s why you affect me, Anne. What I feel for you, it’s what my father felt for my mother. Love matches are rare in our world. What I mean to say is that you are mine, Anne. My love match. I need you, all of you, forever.”

He sat up in the bed and tugged her close, so their hips touched and he could curl his arms around her.

“I want children, lots of them. I want us to sit at afternoon tea years from now, surrounded by laughter and grandchildren. I want to be with you when we are old, when life has finally given us peace. These last few weeks have been such a gift.” He rubbed his hands on her back, their loving touch so full of gentleness that Anne couldn’t resist leaning into him for a kiss. Cedric moved in at the same time she did, embracing her in his arms. Their mouths met, brushing lightly, then shifted into a deeper, lingering kiss that left her weak. With a smothered laugh, she fell back as he tipped her back on the bed and settled into the cradle of her hips.

Anne nuzzled his cheek, and the shadow of stubble on his chin scraping over her skin made her shiver. “I think I love you more than I did before. Is that possible? It’s like falling in love with you all over again.”

Cedric kissed the corners of her mouth, urging her lips into a smile. “I could spend the rest of my life like that, waking up and falling in love with you.”

Anne arched her hips, encouraging him to enter her. Cedric possessed her mouth and slid into her welcoming heat. With each gentle thrust, they seemed to merge further until they moved in perfect rhythm. One second she was a solitary creature, and the next she was a part of something bigger, something mysterious she couldn’t explain. Every impossible dream she’d ever had seemed suddenly within reach. With Cedric at her side, she could do anything.

His warm mouth settled over her breast, and his teeth scraped her aching nipple, making her shove her hips hard into his. What had begun so sweet and sensual now turned raw and primal. Anne had to have him buried inside her, to feel him reaching her soul. When their pace became too fast, Cedric slowed it and Anne thrashed her head wildly, desperate for release.

“Please, Cedric!” she almost wept, needing to climax.

He gasped and fought off his own release as he panted against her neck.

“You’ve ruined me for every other woman, Anne. I’m yours, always.”

His words caused a burst of stars and light inside the core of her being. She couldn’t resist the explosion of pleasure and love as her orgasm spread through her. His own harsh cry of release softened as came deep inside her. It was she this time who wished they had created a life. It only seemed right that such love, such joy would leave a miracle like a child in its wake.

Cedric rolled off her and tucked her in against him, pulling the sheets high above their bodies.

“I love you, Anne.” He kissed the tip of her nose and sighed.

“And I love you.” They didn’t need any other words.

* * * * *

Anne paused before a dressmaker’s shop on the Steine not too far away from Donaldson’s Library. Everywhere around them were people in colorful clothes. Shop windows decorated the sides of the streets and crowds moved in throngs. Many flocked to Brighton to visit the sea, others to ride through the picturesque streets in their barouches and make a social display. Anne found it all amusing and oddly delightful to watch.

“What do you think about me buying some new gowns?” she asked.

Cedric smiled. “Only so long as they are brightly colored.”

Thank heavens we didn’t stay in London. My lack of proper mourning attire would scandalize everyone
. Anne peered closely into the window, studying the fabric reflections and the styles.

“Well if you wish to go in, I’ll wait outside.”

Before Anne could reply, Ashton joined them outside the shop.

“Cedric, I’m off to Donaldson’s if you’d like to accompany me.”

Anne smiled, relief sweeping through her at Ashton’s thoughtfulness. She didn’t like Cedric to be on his own when they were away from the house. He wasn’t familiar with the streets, and he could easily get turned around, hurt or lost, set upon by footpads—even hit by a coach. The fears of what could happen to him were almost endless, and difficult to put out of mind.

“You should go, Cedric. Keep Lord Lennox out of trouble. I’ll join you at the library.” Anne stood up on tiptoe and brushed a kiss on his cheek.

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.”

Anne turned back to the shop when the two men departed.

“Excuse me. I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but are you Viscountess Sheridan?” A buxom lady with a cheery face and dark hair smiled down at her.

Anne blinked. “I am.”

“I’m terribly sorry to be so forward. I am Lady Pickering, wife of Sir Edward Pickering. We live not too far from you and your husband. I’ve been meaning to send you a letter, to invite you to dine with us tonight. I apologize for the late notice, but I couldn’t resist now that I’ve happened to meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure, Lady Pickering. I am ashamed that I haven’t thought to write to you myself. Cedric has spoken at length about you both. My husband and I would be delighted to attend your dinner.”

“Wonderful! Edward will be so pleased.” Lady Pickering joined her at the shop window. “Lovely aren’t they? The modiste here is so much better than those in London. Are you going in? I’d love to join you. I need a few gowns myself.” Lady Pickering’s eyes swept over the window display of fine fabrics and stylish hats.

There was something about the woman that felt warm, motherly even, something Anne had little experience with but had always longed for.

“If you’d like,” Anne said. “I would love the company.”

Lady Pickering clapped her gloved hands together. “Splendid! Shall we?”

Anne followed the woman into the shop, and the modiste and her assistant met them at the door. They took turns getting their measurements and then were provided with some plates of various styles to consider.

“May I speak frankly with you?” Lady Pickering’s tone was cautious as they sat next to each other on a settee and thumbed through the fashion plates.

Anne glanced at the woman, a little concerned, but she nodded.

“I’ve heard the news about your father, and your marriage only a week after his passing.” Lady Pickering toyed with a blue ribbon on her sleeve as she spoke. “I’m not at all sure how to say this.”

Anne’s stomach clenched. “Please, Lady Pickering, speak your mind.”

Her cheeks reddened. “Well, Lady Sheridan, the former one that is, was a dear, dear friend of mine. When she died, it quite broke my heart, you see. We were friends since our youth and our husbands were friends as well. Losing them was devastating, not only to Edward and me, but to everyone who knew them. The Sheridan family is well-respected and loved. The boy—pardon me.” She cleared her throat. “Viscount Sheridan is just as dear to me, like a son in many ways. He may be a bit of a rogue, but he is a good man, and he deserves a wife who loves him.”

Anne gave a sigh of relief. Reaching out, she covered Lady Pickering’s hand with her own.

“I love my husband to distraction. Despite the unorthodox start to our union, I love him more each passing day than I ever believed possible.”

Lady Pickering smiled, though it was tinged with sadness.

“That was all I wanted to know. Now, about dinner, what would his lordship prefer to eat? I will happily alter the menu since I suspect some foods must be difficult for him.”

Surprise flickered through Anne at the woman’s astuteness. There were plenty of foods that made dining difficult for Cedric, but Lady Pickering was thoughtful enough to realize this. It only made Anne adore her all the more.

“Anything eaten easily by spoon is preferable,” she answered, though in truth he’d found it less and less trying to manage a knife and fork as of late.

“That shouldn’t be too difficult.” Lady Pickering handed the plates back to the modiste, gesturing her interest in some of the styles. Anne did the same.

After an hour, the ladies had ordered several excellent gowns. Anne didn’t want to leave Lady Pickering, who was perusing a few hats on display in a window at the milliner’s shop next door, but she felt it was time to rejoin Cedric.

“Lady Pickering, I hate to leave, but I must find my husband.”

The other woman laughed. “Of course, my dear. Off you go. Dinner is at eight.”

“Thank you!” Anne bid her goodbye and crossed the busy street toward Donaldson’s Library.

Samir Al Zahrani mounted his horse and trotted down one of the main streets of Brighton. He muttered a string of curses at his black luck these past few days.

He’d learned where his prized horses were being kept, right alongside inferior English nags. But he could not retrieve them both alone. He’d also missed an opportunity to take Sheridan’s wife in the woods by the lake. The house had been full of servants after that.

But today was the first day the couple had left the sanctuary and gone into Brighton, and he’d sensed a fresh opportunity. Soon his ship would arrive and he could leave this wretched isle. But first he had to acquire what he came for.

Foolish Englishmen and their pride, thinking they could not be attacked in a crowded city. What little they knew…

Sheridan and a companion with light blond hair had separated from Sheridan’s wife, leaving her vulnerable. Exposed.

If I can kill her, it will leave Sheridan on unsteady ground.

He waited. In time, Lady Sheridan exited a dressmaker’s shop and waved goodbye to an older matron before crossing the street. Samir kicked his heels into his horse’s sides and the beast jolted forward…

A black stallion rushed at Anne from the side as she crossed the road. The horse reared and Anne screamed, stumbling to the ground.

The horse calmed and the rider, a handsome, olive-skinned man with dark hair and darker eyes slid from the saddle to help her to her feet.

“A thousand pardons. You crossed so quickly in front of me, I did not see you.” His gaze ran the length of her body. “You’re not injured, I trust?”

Flustered and smarting from her fall, Anne hastily shook her head. “No, no, I’m fine. Thank you.” She tried to tug free of his hold on her waist. “Please, sir, let me go.”

For a moment she feared that he had no such intention. But her fall had attracted the attention of a number of people who were also coming to check and see if she had been injured.

His hands dropped. “Again, my apologies. It has been some time since I’ve been in the presence of a lovely woman. It has made my manners lax.” The gleam in his eyes now made her uncomfortable.

“Excuse me.” She darted around him and back into the street. It was rude, she knew, but something about him…she didn’t want to stay. She forced her ill thoughts off with a shrug, convincing herself it was nonsense.

Donaldson’s Library was a timber-boarded building, freshly painted in white. A large verandah overlooked part of the circulating library. A group of ladies gathered like brightly colored birds in a small flock, gossiping beneath the verandah. Anne avoided them. Their chatter no doubt would lead to trouble later in the two popular Brighton assembly rooms, the Castle Inn and the Old Ship Inn.

Thank heavens Cedric wasn’t one for balls and dancing anymore. Although, Anne had to admit she wished she could have danced with him, just once. Their first opportunity had been lost, and in the years she’d known him, they’d never had a chance to make up for it.

She entered the spacious rooms of Donaldson’s Library, trying not to think about how she wanted one silly quadrille or a waltz with her husband. Though he grew more confident in his step each day, she knew he’d fret about falling or stepping on her toes in a public gathering. The
ton
could be a cruel bunch when they thought they could prey on a weak party. Her nose stung a little with a rush of emotions. The sadness, the disappointment. Such a small thing to desire, yet its very unattainability only made her want it more.