What a Rogue Desires (15 page)

“That sort of elegance can be obtained from a milliner, a maid or valet, and a tailor. Anyone with money can achieve it. It’s not your fault you aren’t elegant in that way.” He put his head to one side, studying her. “You have your own elegance.”

Vivian just stared at him, speechless. He smiled slightly, his dark eyes lingering on her face. “You’re mad,” she finally said, but inwardly she felt a tingling rush of warmth. Elegance? It wasn’t true, of course, but it was lovely of him to say so. “I’ve an ear for languages and an eye for things like manners,” she said, leaving that topic and returning to an easier one. “It came in handy more than once, being able to ape a lady, or at least a lady’s companion.”

“No doubt,” he said, then adopted a slightly wounded tone. “Still, knowing you can behave so beautifully, I wonder why I am treated to the sharp edge of your temper at all times.”

“Because you’re a scoundrel,” she said calmly. “And you like it.”

He laughed. “You have caught me out.”

She laughed with him, just as the lights on the stage came up, and the musicians began to play. At once her attention fixed on the stage, and she did not notice how David’s eyes lingered on her in an oddly thoughtful way.

David watched her instead of the stage. She didn’t seem to realize it, enraptured by the play. Emotions dashed across her face, a flicker of a frown, a flash of dismay, then a brilliant smile and delighted laugh that made David smile, too, when she glanced at him, even though he hadn’t the faintest idea what had been amusing.

For the first time, he thought he was seeing Vivian without a trace of artifice, the way she would be if her nature hadn’t been hardened from years of cruel life. For days she had sat in stubborn silence, her back to him, a wooden figure almost. Now she was still again, but from rapt attention to the play.

David had never expected to spend this much time in her company. Locking her up had been pure impulse; keeping her there had been pure stubbornness. If she had been a simple petty thief, she would have told him what he wanted to know and he would have released her. He would never have noticed the way she nibbled the inside corner of her lip when she was worried. He never would have known that she loved the small luxuries in life—a hot bath, a cozy mattress, a bit of lemon tart—the way most women liked jewels. He would never have suspected that something as simple as a play would make her eyes light up and shine like stars, when all around her people were more interested in who was sitting in whose box than in anything the actors were saying or doing.

Now he didn’t know what to do with her. Instead of losing interest in her, he only wanted to know more about her. He was attracted to her still, but it was not strictly about taking her to bed; he wanted to make her laugh almost as much as he wanted to make love to her. No other woman had ever managed to intrigue him so, particularly not whilst calling him the names Vivian hurled at him regularly. Instead of being put off by it, David found it exhilarating. He liked a woman with spirit and wit. He even liked that he must be himself with her, or be mocked as a liar. Vivian, he realized, forced him to be honest.

It wasn’t an altogether comfortable feeling for David. All his life, people around him had made him aware of his many failings. It had been easier for him to laugh off every scolding, make a joke of every disaster, and generally carry on as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been utterly unguarded, and not braced himself for a lecture or recriminations in return. But Vivian seemed to have little patience for his insouciance, and refused to let him sulk about his problems. Strange to say, but she might actually have been a good influence on him.

At the end of the farce, she applauded enthusiastically before turning to him, her eyes shining. “Wasn’t it lovely?”

“Completely,” he confirmed, smiling back at her.

“Have you ever seen anything so amusing?” She began to laugh as she spoke. “I never saw anyone so clever as Miss Hardcastle.”

“Indeed,” he said wryly, “for perceiving a fundamental truth about gentlemen: we are all fools when it comes to women.”

“You needn’t add the last,” she said. “Just leave it at fools.”

David smiled. “Perhaps so. Would you care for some wine?”

His genteel manner made Vivian want to laugh again. “Aye,” she said, then corrected herself. “Yes, thank you. That would be lovely.”

This time he laughed. “I shall fetch some. Bar the door behind me, wench, to keep your admirers at bay.”

“Admirers, here,” she said with a sniff. “What a laugh.”

David shook his head and left, pulling the door securely closed behind him. He briskly strode off down the corridor. It had been amusing earlier to introduce Vivian to people, but now he just wanted to get back to her. He hoped Hamilton would have the good sense not to stop by and visit her.

“Reece,” whispered a silky voice behind him. David turned without thinking, only realizing too late that he would have done better to pretend not to have heard.

Jocelyn, Lady Barlow strolled around him, too closely, a secretive smile on her lips. She had been his last lover, months ago. He hadn’t seen her since the night Marcus narrowly saved him from her husband’s wrath. “I thought that was you, half asleep in Exeter’s box. Where on earth have you been, darling?” She walked her fingers over his arm.

David shifted his weight, easing just away from her hand. There were few people in the corridor at the moment, and she was taking full advantage of it. “Out of town, Jocelyn. You might remember I had to leave rather suddenly.”

She pouted. “What a tempest over nothing. Barlow forgot about it within a fortnight.”

“Perhaps because I quit the scene so promptly,” David murmured.

She smiled, a coy smile that had once brought him running to her side. “But now you’ve returned.”

“So I have,” he said, stepping sideways again when her hand would have slid along his waistcoat. “Are you enjoying the play?”

“Play?” She laughed. “Oh yes, we are at the theater. Darling, you know I don’t care for the theater…unless one is contemplating diversions of a private nature, in one’s box…”

“The farce was terribly amusing,” he told her, ignoring her every attempt to flirt with him, and avoiding her attempts to touch him.

Jocelyn rolled her eyes. “If I cared to attend,” she said, stepping closer until David had to stand a little straighter. She tilted her head and looked him in the eye. Jocelyn was tall for a woman, taller than Vivian. “Shall we find a quiet corner and create our own entertainment?”

He looked at her. Once he had been mad for her. He had carried on with her past the point of prudence and let her use him to punish her husband for his indifference, until even the negligent Lord Barlow couldn’t let it pass. David knew Barlow had been on the verge of calling him out, before Marcus intervened and sent him away. David wasn’t fool enough to tempt the same irate husband twice, had he even wished to. “No.”

Jocelyn blinked. “No? Why not?”

He inhaled deeply, and let it out. “We are done, my dear. We have been for months.”

“That needn’t be so,” she began, but David held up one hand.

“Yes, it really must.”

She looked ready to protest, then stopped, acceptance settling over her features. “Yes,” she said at last. “I suppose it must. The young woman, I trust.”

“Not at all.” His protest was quick and instinctive.

She smiled wryly. “I think so. A woman can tell.”

David raised one eyebrow. “Then why did you approach me, if you believe that?”

She sighed. “One can hope. You really were the sweetest…” She patted him on the arm. “That’s that, then. Go back to her.”

“It’s not what you think,” he tried once more.

“Not yet, perhaps.” She wagged a finger at him. “You want it to be, though.”

He did. He couldn’t admit it, but neither could he deny it. David smiled, and raised her hand to brush his lips across her knuckles. “Good evening to you, Jocelyn.”

“And to you, David,” she said. He bowed and walked away without looking back. Vivian would be wondering where he had gone, and he didn’t like to keep her waiting.

The next play had begun by the time he slipped back into his seat beside Vivian, and she only cast him a fleeting smile. She made no move to touch him, or cling to him, or push herself at him. A woman can tell, Jocelyn had said. Jocelyn could see that he wanted Vivian. The question was, could Vivian? And if she did, what would her reaction be? He watched her from the corner of his eye. Instead of setting to pursuing her with his usual determination, David felt an almost hesitant reserve. He had been rejected before, his advances declined. He had survived, and often come to appreciate that he had been luckier to be refused. It was ludicrous for him to worry about offending an admitted thief, but he did. He didn’t want to offend her any more than he wanted his advances to be refused this time.

But now that someone had spoken the words out loud, David knew he had no choice but to chance it because he did want Vivian Beecham, very much.

Vivian was still talking about the play when they reached home late that night. Displaying an amazing memory, she had quoted long stretches of dialogue in the carriage, with such verve David couldn’t help but laugh with her. In imitation of Kate Hardcastle, she twitched her skirt at him as she danced up the stairs, and just like Marlow, he followed, unable not to follow. Giggling, she twirled around in her room, hands clasped at her bosom. “Lord, did you ever imagine such a sight! It was like a dream come to life!”

“Did you really like it, then?” He grinned as she nodded vigorously.

“Better than anything I’ve ever seen in my life. The farce, that is; the other was maudlin for my taste. But oh—when Marlow realized his mistake—when Tony sent the carriage round and round—” She broke off, laughing again at the memory.

David felt something deep in his chest shift. Had he ever been that happy in all his life? And over something as simple as going to see a play? It was both humbling and enthralling to see such joy on her face. And when she stopped her dizzy waltzing right in front of him, and looked up at him with that luminous smile, David kissed her without stopping to think what he was doing.

It was a soft kiss, mild really. His mouth brushed against hers before she realized what he was about, and then he lifted his head before she could recover from the surprise. But as David looked down at her with harsh longing in his eyes, Vivian did what she had wanted to do for some time. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

He caught her face in his hands and met her kiss with a hungry one of his own. With three steps he backed her against the wall, holding her in place. His big hand slid down her throat to cup her breast, a little roughly. Vivian moaned as his fingers pinched and teased her nipple into stinging awareness. The dress was like nothing beneath his touch, nothing; she could feel every stroke of his fingers through the light silk. She arched her back, liking it more than she had expected to.

Then his hands moved, shaping and molding her body hard against his. He dropped tiny little kisses on her forehead, and when she opened her mouth to exclaim in delight, his lips captured hers again, his tongue taking advantage of the opportunity to invade her mouth. She tasted burgundy and him just as his hands closed around her hips and pulled her body into direct contact with his.

Vivian gasped, her heart beginning to pound. Her hands started to shake. Lord, he was good with his hands. He held her firmly, then released her to run his fingertips lightly over the curves of her hips and bottom. Her knees trembled; as if he knew, he grasped her thigh and pulled it up, curling his arm around her leg and stroking his fingers along the underside of her knee. Even through the dress it felt better than anything Vivian had ever felt in her life.

She clung to him, kissing him back as fervently as she could while pulling at his clothing with blind hands. He cooperated a little. His coat hit the floor with a small thud, followed by his waistcoat. She managed to unknot the cravat, but couldn’t get it unwound from his neck while his wicked mouth was moving over her face, nipping at her ear, sliding down her shoulder, and his hands were maddeningly, teasingly, moving over her until she was sure she would lose her balance. In frustration, she grabbed handfuls of his shirt and pulled, relieved and aroused by the way he hissed in a breath as she spread her hands against his stomach. Eagerly, she reached for the fastenings on his trousers.

That finally penetrated the fog of lust filling David’s brain. Stop, he told himself; wait just a moment. Vivian had gotten a few of the buttons undone, and her fingers were moving lower—closer—David sucked in his breath. He caught her hands. “Vivian,” he said. She squirmed against him, her breasts rising and falling with every rapid breath, her lips rosy and full, her eyes dilated with desire. She leaned into him, and David almost expired as she pressed against his erection. “Stop,” he gasped, setting her away from him while he still could. “There’s no rush.”

She blinked at him, ravishingly mussed. “That’s the way folk do it,” she said, sounding puzzled.

Yes. That was often the way David did it, as a matter of fact, ripping away just enough clothing to get to the key parts of his lover’s anatomy, and not bothering to discard more of his own clothing than was absolutely necessary. But those encounters had been arousing in part because of their rushed nature: slipping out of a ball, taking an illicit carriage ride, and once in the cloakroom at the opera. Knowing that they must be quick or be caught had driven him and his past lovers. It could be exciting, to be sure—but tonight he had no reason, and even less inclination, to hurry.

And strangely, Vivian’s rushing made him want to go even more slowly. They had complete privacy. No one would burst in on them, and no one would miss them if they remained in this room until morning—or even longer. He rather liked the idea of spending an entire night making love to Vivian. He doubted anyone else had ever taken the time to please her properly, and David was suddenly determined to be the first to do so. “Not tonight,” he said quietly. “I want to savor you.”

What on earth…? Vivian frowned a little, but he distracted her by stroking her shoulders and bare arms, a feathery touch that made her feel both shivery and warm. “Trust me,” he added in the same velvet voice. He was looking at her as if he were about to devour her, one small bite at a time, and the thought—even though it was a bit mysterious—sent little pinpricks of delight through her. No one had ever savored her. The two boys she’d let under her skirts before had both been as young and inexperienced as she was. It hadn’t been horrible, those two times, but neither had it inspired the breathless anticipation she felt now.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said nervously. “I—I don’t know what to do.”

He smiled a wicked smile. “I do.”

With sure, unhurried hands he unfastened the dress. Vivian leaned her head back against the wall, letting her eyes drift closed as his dark, low voice murmured in her ear, promising things she’d only heard about, and some things she hadn’t, all in words that made her feel light-headed and hot and restless all at once. He loosened her bodice, the tips of his fingers skimming the tender flesh of her bosom and shoulders. Vivian shivered as the fabric slid away, exposing her to cooler air and his scorching gaze. With a soft swish the dress fell to the floor, followed by the light petticoat. The corset loosened as he pulled the lace out, and eventually joined the dress. When she felt his fingers untying her chemise, Vivian thought her heart might stop in her chest. She took a great gulping breath; he was going to make love to her. She’d had a moment to cool her head and realize it, but she hadn’t the slightest bit of strength or will to stop him.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered in a mesmerizing whisper. “Look at me.”

With effort, she pried her eyes open. He loomed over her, the planes of his face painted gold in the firelight, his white shirt seeming to glow. She looked at him mutely, feeling her face heat.

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispered, sending her chemise the way of the dress and corset. Now she stood there in only her stockings and beaded slippers. She made to kick them off, but he stopped her. “Not yet,” he told her, and then swept her into his arms.

He laid her on the bed and leaned over her, looking very large and powerful as he eclipsed everything else in the room. Vivian’s stomach dipped as much as the mattress did under his weight. What was he going to do to her? Her knowledge of sexual congress was rather limited and crude. The gleam in his eyes and the tone of his voice promised sinful pleasures she had never even heard of; he would make her scream with pleasure? Vivian only screamed from fright, or for effect. He would bring her to the point of delirium, again and again, until she couldn’t even remember her own name? Vivian never lost control of herself that way. And he promised to do this all night long? She’d never heard the like.

“I’m not a virgin,” she blurted out as David brushed his lips against her temple. “No one in St. Giles reaches four-and-twenty a maid.”

He met her gaze. “I’m not, either.”

Her face grew hot. “But no one expects you to be.”

His dark eyes searched hers. “Was it…” He hesitated. “Were you willing?”

Vivian felt a rush of shame. If she’d been willing, she’d been a trollop. “Willing enough,” she snapped.

He blinked, then gave his head a tiny shake. “No one forced you, did they?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. He didn’t sound judgmental, but concerned. He cared that no one had forced her. “No,” she said.

Still he didn’t move. “No one’s forcing you now,” he said softly.

Vivian felt herself blushing all over again. He was waiting for her response. She should probably say stop. He could leave her with a babe in her belly, and she’d end up like her poor mum. But…well,
savored
…and by
him
…“I know.” She wet her lips. “No one’s forcing you, either.”

David stared at her, then dropped his head. His shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Vivian,” he said, resting his forehead on hers. “Vivian.” He sighed, still smiling. “Don’t you know, love, a team of horses couldn’t drag me away at this moment.” He kissed her again. “Unless you bid them to.”

“Well, I wouldn’t,” she said, blushing harder. She never knew people talked so much before swiving. In the crowded rookeries, people mated with some fumbling under clothing, a bit of grunting, and a great deal of speed. Vivian had never seen what all the fuss was about. It was all right, she supposed, nothing more. But that was before tonight, when she suddenly began to see more to the act than a quick coupling of bodies.

“Well.” That lazy, satisfied smile crept over David’s face again. “That’s good to know.” He stroked her cheek, down her throat, and all the way to her belly. He did it again, just one lone fingertip trailing over her skin, and her nipples hardened as if in longing for the touch of that finger. “Tell me what you like,” he said.

“I don’t know…” She gasped as his fingertip retraced its path, but this time taking a slow circle around the very edge of her breast.

“Say yes if you like it.” David moved, sliding down her body. “No, if you don’t.”

“Yes,” Vivian whispered as his finger continued to blaze a path of sensation across her skin. It dipped into the hollow of her navel, and then climbed her ribs to skate along her collarbone. “Yes.”

He traced the line of her breastbone, then slowed as he crossed her belly. He drew lazy circles there that made her hips rise of their own volition. “Do you like this?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes!” She wanted him to move lower, to the place between her legs that she knew was his ultimate destination. It seemed to tingle in anticipation. She gave in to impulse and tilted her hips.

“No,” he said with a smile in his voice. He spread his palm on her lower belly, gently holding her in place until she settled back into the mattress. “We’ll get there, darling. Don’t rush me.”

So somehow, Vivian said nothing but “yes” as his finger made a leisurely, sensuous progress over every inch of her body. She jumped when the backs of his knuckles grazed the swell of her breast, but she managed to moan only “yes.” Her voice rose into a squeak as his finger finally passed over her tight nipple, and she barely heard his low chuckle. He was a devil, she thought wildly, but he made her feel so good she didn’t have the voice to curse him for it.

David had never in his whole, debauched, life seen anything more arousing than Vivian Beecham, rookery pickpocket and highway robber, spread almost naked on the bed before him, saying “yes” in a voice that ranged from breathless to moaning to downright begging. Her limbs stirred and twitched as if his finger caught invisible strings beneath her skin. Her still-stockinged legs were propped up on either side of his chest, and David bent his head to press a lingering kiss to the inside of her knee. Her skin was hot through the silk of the stocking. He flipped off her slippers, then slowly rolled each stocking down her legs, dropping them on the floor as he feasted his eyes on her.

He levered himself over her, bracing his weight on his left arm. Holy God, she was beautiful, he thought again as her sky-blue eyes flashed at him, glowing bright with desire. Her skin was flushed everywhere his hand had touched. His hand trailed lower, and he touched his tongue to her nipple at the same moment he finally slid his fingers between her legs.

Her startled gasp turned into a moan. Feather-lightly, David circled the little nub hidden in soft brown curls. He suckled a little harder at her breast, and her fingers threaded themselves into his hair.

“Oh, yes,” she whimpered. “Yes…What are you doing to me?” Her legs were trembling, and she draped one over David’s side, drawing him into the embrace of her legs.

“Pleasing you.” He shifted, sliding away from her, sitting back on his heels. His heart was thumping madly in his chest, and his breath was ragged. She was flushed and pink everywhere. He stroked his fingertips down the backs of her thighs, and when she moaned, “yes,” he felt his control begin to crack.

“Touch yourself,” he said, taking her hand and dragging her fingertips down the center of her chest, between her breasts. “Do what I did.”

Clumsily, she did. Her eyes were closed now, her head thrown back, and she was definitely using more force than he had. She palmed her breast, and the fullness compressed beneath her hand. The muscles in David’s neck grew taut. He licked his thumb and rubbed it over her nub again, still teasing her but more insistently. She was slick and wet, and so, so hot. Holding his breath, he slid one finger inside her.

Vivian felt him part her flesh, something she had expected and yet feeling completely unlike what she had expected. He was still stroking her there, in that one spot that seemed connected to every nerve in her body, and the finger—now two—he pushed inside her only made the feeling more intense. She grabbed fistfuls of the blanket beneath her to anchor herself to the bed. It seemed as though her body would explode from the pleasure. “Oh,” she gasped. “I can’t bear it!”