What a Rogue Desires (16 page)

“You can,” he said, and then shoved off the bed, shedding the rest of his clothes almost before Vivian could surface from her disorientation enough to figure out what he was doing. He slid back over her, naked now, and the feel of his skin against hers made her shudder again. Blimey, he was beautiful, she thought dazedly, taking in the golden expanse of male skin, the dark hair scattered on his chest, the light sheen of sweat on his shoulders, and the way his muscular arm flexed as he raised himself above her. Instinctively, she tensed.

“Vivian.” He kissed her mouth gently as his fingers opened her. “Let go. Let me please you.”

His fingers withdrew. Something else returned; his cock, she realized. He pushed inside her just a little, then pulled back. Again inside, then back out. His fingers circled around his entry, then settled back on that spot. He pushed forward again, just as he stroked her there, and Vivian’s eyes rolled back in her head.

With maddening slowness he worked his way deeper, all the while stroking her. Vivian was ready to weep at the intensity of the feeling; he had to finish quickly or she’d die, it seemed. She grabbed at his arms and thrashed about, wordlessly urging him to go faster.

“Don’t fight me,” he said, his voice low and rough. “God, Vivian, let me show you how.”

“I can’t,” she cried. He pushed once more, and then stopped, all the way inside her. She felt full, filled with him, and coiled so tightly with desire she whimpered from the exquisite agony of it.

He smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed her nose. “You can,” he said quietly, and then he began to move.

Oh…This,
this
was the part she recognized. But it wasn’t at all the same as it had been the other times. David’s thrusts were slow, hard, and matched perfectly to the rhythm of his fingers on that aching spot. He made her feel as if she would come apart in his arms, as if she would drown, as if she would faint—

And then the hot, hard wave of pleasure broke, so astonishingly she gasped, almost unable to breathe. Dimly she heard David suck in his breath, felt him fall on her neck with a kiss. She held on to him as her entire being seemed to convulse.

“Bloody hell,” she said weakly, once she had got her breath back. A laugh rumbled through David’s chest. Vivian stroked him tentatively on the back. “I liked that very much,” she told him.

He pushed himself up again, his black eyes glittering. “Good,” he said. “You’re going to do it again.”

Her eyes widened as he thrust into her again, harder than before. He touched her again, too, as his eyes trapped hers. Incredibly, Vivian felt the same feelings mount in her again. The first time he had teased her to it, lightly and slowly. Now he was driving her to it, forcefully and inexorably. His arm beside her began to tremble. She heard someone crying out, again and again, and realized it was coming from her.

Then David shouted, his head sinking. He drove all the way inside her and then jerked away, holding himself tightly against her as his hips bucked. His fingers circled, and pressed, then pinched just so, and Vivian succumbed again, shrieking with the contraction of her body.

“Bloody hell,” David said, muffled against her shoulder, and she gave a shaky laugh. He sucked in a ragged breath as she moved beneath him, then he rolled to one side, taking her with him.

She threw one arm over his shoulder, snuggling into him. David felt as though his very bones had melted. Lovemaking hadn’t been that good for him in…he couldn’t even remember when. The look on her face had been like kindling on the fire inside him. She wriggled a little in his arms, settling more comfortably, and he obliged, shifting his weight while still keeping his arm around her. He reached down and pulled the coverlet over them. She turned her head, pressing her lips to his jaw and running her fingers through his hair, and David sighed, so bloody filled with contentment he could hardly move.

God, he didn’t want to let her go. He didn’t understand why, but David had never had this almost desperate desire to hold on to a woman. Normally he was just as happy as his lover to part ways; normally the sexual act was all they had in common and all they wanted to share. But Vivian…

He didn’t want Vivian to be the same.

David was well aware that he had begun badly—very badly—with her. Taking a woman prisoner was hardly the way to win her over. Had he even won her over? She had laughed and smiled at the theater tonight, and the joy on her face when they arrived home had looked very real to him. She had kissed him. But he had also thought her a lonely, frightened widow on the stage, and look how wrong he had been.

All the warmth and satisfaction inside him faded to a cold lump of dread. Perhaps she had let him make love to her because she thought she had no choice. Perhaps it had been gratitude. Perhaps it had been curiosity; it was clear to him no one had ever made love to her properly before. Perhaps it had meant nothing to her but a physical release.

For the first time in several years, David wanted it to mean something to her. When he had first discovered lovemaking, and the fact that a handsome fellow with money could always find a willing woman, David had rather vainly wanted to be the finest lover his partners had ever had. He had devoted himself to learning a woman’s body, how to please her until she screamed from it and let him take his pleasure as he wished. But it was an accomplishment, the bargain he made with a woman for the right to have her any way he imagined. And most of the women he dallied with seemed to feel the same. They walked away without a backward glance, just the same as David did.

Would Vivian walk away, too? How would he know if she wanted to, or if she wanted to stay, when he was keeping her locked up? How would he know she wasn’t pretending to like his touch if he didn’t give her a chance to reject it? But he didn’t want her to go. If he threw wide the doors and invited her to leave, he was too afraid she would.

David had never particularly prided himself on any sort of moral courage or standards. But this was a dilemma he could not ignore. Offer her the chance to leave, and run the risk she would go; or keep her locked up, and always wonder. He wanted to know—needed to know—but feared the answer.

Vivian lay awake for some time, warm and relaxed and utterly sated. David’s arm was flung across her stomach, his head tucked against her shoulder, and she watched the flickering shadows on the ceiling as she absently ran her fingers through his hair. It was so soft, his hair, clean and long. This was like a dream, lying in a fine featherbed with a handsome man in her arms, no wind whistling through the windows, no mice skittering in the corners, the room silent except for the crackle of the fire. Imagine that, a large fire in the midst of summer, just because it was rainy. And it was just for her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a fire just for herself.

She closed her eyes. No, this was better than a dream. A dream was guaranteed to end when she woke. This might go on for days.

She pushed aside the thought of what this might make her. In her life, Vivian had done many things to survive, and she knew some of them weren’t exactly legal. She had never been a whore, though, and had even explained her other actions as a way of avoiding that short and wretched life. Instead of raising her skirts for men with money, she’d reasoned, she’d simply taken the money they would have paid her. That way at least she was sure of getting the money, and without leaving herself at their mercy.

But what was this? David stirred in her arms, his arms tightening about her, and Vivian snuggled closer to him. He was sound asleep. On impulse she pressed her lips gently to his cheek. This wasn’t acting the whore, she thought; there was no thought of money changing hands. She had let him make love to her because she wanted it, and for no other reason.

Still, he was a gentleman, and she was a thief. As glorious as tonight had been, Vivian knew that it was a temporary thing. She turned her head and her gaze fell on the door. The key was in the lock, unturned. If she wanted to escape, now was the night.

Her eyes felt fixed on that key. Her freedom. She could slip out of bed, pull on her clothes, and be out the door before anyone knew she was gone. David would never be able to find her if she went to ground, found Flynn and Simon and the rest and told them what had happened. They could be in any county of England, or on their way to Ireland or Scotland, in a day or two. David would never find her.

Her heartbeat seemed loud in the quiet room. The fire snapped, and the light flickered as the log broke in a little burst of sparks. A fire just for her. A warm featherbed just for her. A silk dress just for her. A passionate kiss just for her. And the key in the lock.

Experimentally, Vivian slid one leg to the edge of the mattress. David didn’t move. She eased onto her side, turning away from him, and his arm moved lax and easily away from her waist. A few more wiggles and she was completely out of his embrace. Her maneuvers hadn’t woken him at all. He still slept, his dark hair falling about his face, his eyelashes black against his cheeks. All she had to do was slide out from under the coverlet, and she would be free.

She told herself to get moving as she lay rigid. Simon must be wild to know what had become of her. Flynn was no doubt treating him like a lackey and blaming him for her absence. He had no one but her to look out for him, and if she had a duty to anyone in this world other than herself, it was to Simon. He’d die for her, wouldn’t he, and now all she had to do was get up and walk out the door to get back to him.

Her hands fisted in the sheets. She squeezed her eyes closed and pressed her head into the soft feather pillow.
She
was soft, considering her own wicked comfort while Simon was probably resting in a cold damp barn with no pillow at all and mice running about his feet. She opened her eyes and stole another glance at David. He slept on, oblivious to her struggle. She wished he didn’t. If he woke up and reached for her again, or even just watched her, the decision would be made for her. She could persuade herself she hadn’t left because he was still preventing her.

She poked one foot out from under the covers and reached down toward the floor. Even with the fire, the floor felt cold after the warmth of the bed. She shivered. With a burst of determination, she pushed her other foot out, then slid silently from the bed to stand, naked and trembling, on the rug. The fancy dress was there on the floor where David had thrown it. She could slip that back on and sneak down the back stairs, out into the neglected little garden, and disappear into the alleys. The dress would fetch a pretty penny…except that it was by far the loveliest dress she’d ever had, and she didn’t want to give it up. Well, she could keep it, she argued with herself; she could carry it and wear her old gray dress. She could keep the lovely blue dress as a reminder of this glorious night, when she’d finally discovered what it meant to make love.

She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill, and cursed herself for her indecision. What was the matter with her? How long had she been waiting for an opportunity to escape? Now it was here, and she was dithering like a fool, over a dress. She took another glance at David, then forced her eyes away. Why did he have to do this to her? Things had been so simple when she could just hate him and think him a cruel, arrogant popinjay. Why did he have to bring her a beautiful dress, take her out for an evening straight from a dream, and kiss her like he meant it? Why did he have to treat her not like a thief and a beggar, but like a lady? Why did he have to make love to her as if he actually, somehow, cared for her? And why did she have to want it to go on and on forever?

Vivian curled her toes into the thick rug beneath her feet. If she were going to run, now was the moment. To delay would mean not only an opportunity wasted, but, she suspected—feared—an irreversible step toward letting herself feel something dangerous for David. God knew, if he continued treating her this way—if he continued kissing her this way—continued making love to her this way—Vivian knew it would be more than her freedom lost.

And she knew it would never mean as much to him. It couldn’t. For all his gallant words and behavior tonight, David wouldn’t be holding her a year from now. There would be some other fortunate woman in his arms, and Vivian would be lucky not to have her neck stretched. It was too much fairy tale, and just as improbable.

Still…She shifted her weight. All this was getting her was gooseflesh.
Buck up, girl,
she told herself sternly;
are you going or aren’t you?

For what seemed an eternity she stood there, her hands rubbing her elbows. She cast another glance at the door, then back at the bed. The log in the fire snapped again, breaking in half with a shower of sparks, and she flinched. Finally, shaking with shivers, she inched back to the bedside and eased between the covers, slipping into bed again. After a moment of wriggling, she gave a small sigh and was still.

And behind her back, David’s eyes opened a slit. He regarded her for a moment before his eyes fluttered shut again in relief, and he fell asleep in truth.

The servants Adams had hired reported to work early the next morning. David came downstairs to find his new butler awaiting him at the head of a small group of footmen, maids, and kitchen staff. Hobbs was a tall impressive figure, suitably aged, his back as straight as any poker. He looked every bit the perfect butler. Since there had been no one running the household for several months, David himself had to instruct the man in what needed doing—in short, almost everything. But after all this time, it was such a relief to have someone to instruct, and several other servants to carry out those instructions, that David barely cared.

The sounds of scrubbing and sweeping filled the house, along with the unfamiliar tread of extra pairs of feet and new voices. After the calm of an almost empty house, it made David itch to leave. There were disputes over the proper method of polishing the banisters. The cook stormed from the kitchen three times in an hour, ranting about Bannet’s treatment of the kettles. The third time, David caught sight of Bannet himself, standing at the back of the hall with a polishing rag in one hand, taking a terrific scolding. His slightly stooped shoulders seemed more slumped than usual, and his placid round face more woebegone than ever. David ducked out of the way of the footmen carrying out a rug to be beaten, and crossed the hall. “Bannet, may I have a word?”

Bannet nodded, shuffling around the irate cook and after David. Inside the study, David turned to the man, the only servant who hadn’t left him in his more desperate hours. “Quite a fuss, eh?”

“Quite, sir,” agreed Bannet.

“It occurs to me that I have no valet,” David continued. “Will you take the post?”

Some time flickered in Bannet’s eyes. “I’m not a young man, sir,” he said. “I know little of fashions.”

David lifted one shoulder. “Is that a refusal?” Bannet said nothing. “I appreciate that you have been loyal and steadfast these several months, even when my circumstances were not…ideal. I wish to reward that loyalty. The maids will see to the cleaning, and you need no longer cook. You may let me know if you want the position this evening.”

“I do,” said Bannet softly. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Thank you,” returned David. “I am aware that you have been most kind to Mrs. Beecham.”

Bannet studied his toes. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you for that as well.” He turned to go. “You may go.”

“Thank you, sir.”

David nodded and went back to his study, feeling more pleased than he had expected to feel. His offer to Bannet had been made on the spur of the moment; he knew he would not be the most fashionable gentleman with Bannet tending him. But Bannet had been tending him for weeks now, and David was perfectly content with the state of his linen. Why should he hire another valet?

In his study he contemplated his desk. Normally the only thing that appeared on top of it was dust. He was too shocking to get invitations by the basketful, as Marcus did, and he had no political or financial concerns that required extensive correspondence. Mainly, David received bills. For a time, even those had gone straight to Exeter House but, since his return to London, David had directed Adams to send them here. As part of his new vow of responsibility, David had decided to get his own affairs in order. He just hadn’t quite gotten around to it yet. Straightening his shoulders and stiffening his resolve, he marched to the desk and began sorting through the mess.

The butler tapped at the door not long after.

“Yes,” said David absently, still reading.

Hobbs came to stand at attention in front of the desk. “You have a houseguest, sir.”

“Yes,” said David, barely listening as he paged through the pile of bills from the tailor. He didn’t even recall spending most of that money. Had he really ordered so many waistcoats?

“My lord,” said Hobbs in an aggrieved tone, “Bannet tells me your guest is a young woman. A young woman, sir, who has been locked inside your house for some time now.”

David paused and looked up. “What’s that, Hobbs?”

His butler swelled with offense. “Sir, I cannot continue in your service,” he declared. “It is unconscionable. It is ungentlemanly.”

David fixed a weary gaze on the man. “I was told you were a man of excellent understanding and discretion.”

“I am, sir.” Hobbs’s eyes were directed somewhere over David’s head. David sighed, running one hand over his face in aggravation. He hadn’t thought about how to explain Vivian’s presence to the butler, for God’s sake. But he couldn’t afford to have the man quit after a mere six hours in his employ, not when there wasn’t another butler in London who would take the position in Hobbs’s place.

“Then surely you will understand the need for discretion in this matter,” he said. “My guest is a young woman with a very sad history. She has been…Well, suffice to say she has not led the purest of lives. But I am trying to save her from it, Hobbs. Her door has remained locked to prevent her from returning to her former wicked ways. Do you take my meaning?”

After a long moment the butler dared a quick, uncertain glance at him. “Do you mean to say, sir…?”

David nodded, more patiently than he felt. Why did he, of all people, have to hire a moral butler? Weren’t butlers supposed to accept, and if necessary conceal, their employer’s faults? “Yes, Hobbs, it is for her own good. What sort of man would I be if I were to allow her to rejoin her associates in crime?”

The butler began to look uneasy. “Er…”

“She would be hanged within a month,” David went on, sensing a change in the man’s attitude and pressing his advantage. “She was on the brink of it when I discovered her. It is my Christian duty to exert myself to save her, is it not?”

“Yes, of course, sir,” said Hobbs, his face growing red.

“But of course it would not be a service to her if word were to get out that she has been living in my home. And there are some uncharitable souls who would doubt my motives and malign my efforts. So I must trust to your discretion in this, as in all else regarding my household, Hobbs.” David got to his feet. “You came very highly recommended, so I have great faith you shall succeed.”

“Yes, sir,” said the butler. He cleared his throat. “Then, the lady, sir…She has not been harmed?”

“How dare you,” said David with real affront.

The butler shifted his weight. “No, no, sir! I did not mean—That is, she is well-cared for?”

“I have seen to it myself,” David said. “Speak to Bannet if you wish.”

“Well then.” Hobbs cleared his throat again. “I see, sir. Very good, sir.”

“Excellent. I am delighted you understand my position. I trust we shall not have any further disturbances?”

“No, sir,” said the butler quickly. “None.”

“Splendid. Send for my carriage at once, then.”

Hobbs bowed and all but ran from the room. David looked at the bills again, then shook his head and left the room. There was still a great deal of activity in the hall, maids mopping and dusting and a footman polishing furniture. David nodded as the maids stopped work to curtsey, and then took the stairs two at a time. He wasn’t used to so many people in his house, and couldn’t fight the urge to get away from them any longer. He went to Vivian’s door and tapped.

She looked up from a large box as he opened the door. Mindful of Hobbs’s censure, David left the door open and propped his shoulder against the doorframe. “Does everything suit?”

She didn’t say a word. In reply, she lifted a bonnet from a hatbox at her side, her wide eyes veering from it to him. “It’s for me?” she asked in hushed tones.

He laughed. “Who else? Do you like it?”

Vivian looked at the bonnet again with something like awe. She had never had such a lovely bonnet. When the maid had brought the boxes into her room earlier, she could not have been more surprised—until she opened them, and found two day dresses of fine cotton, a shawl, a complete set of undergarments, and this bonnet, this lovely little straw bonnet covered with silk and ribbons. She didn’t know what to say. “Yes,” she whispered, remembering to answer his question.

He pushed away from the wall. “Put away that wretched gray dress—better yet, burn it. I’ve a mind to go driving. They’re cleaning the entire house, and I cannot work with the smell of polish about me. Would you care to come with me?”

She nodded, suddenly feeling rather shy and uncertain. He had been gone from her room before she woke, and then Bannet had brought her breakfast. Bannet had informed her there were more servants about the house now, and she had heard their noise. The key was also gone from the lock. Just to see, Vivian had opened the door and stepped into the hall. She was free. She stood there for a moment, tingling with nerves, before retreating into the room. Now she could leave, but she didn’t want to, not yet. It seemed impossible things would not change, after last night, but she didn’t know exactly how.

By the time she changed and made her way downstairs, past a maid who bobbed a faint curtsey even as she eyed Vivian curiously, David was standing in the open front door. He was simply standing there, watching the servants bustling about the hall, but Vivian had the sudden feeling he couldn’t bear to be in the house a moment longer. She hurried down the last of the stairs, somewhat relieved to see his eyes light up when he saw her.

“How lovely you look,” he said. “Shall we?” She nodded and let him lead her out to the tall, shiny carriage waiting in the street behind a pair of perfectly matched chestnuts. He helped her into it, then jumped up beside her.

“I thought I would never be free,” he muttered, flicking the whip and setting the horses in motion. Vivian had never ridden in such an elegant vehicle, nor one driven so quickly, and for a while she simply hung on and savored the sun on her back.

He drove with a controlled recklessness, sending the horses through impossibly small gaps in the traffic. The first time she gasped and closed her eyes, bracing for a collision, but by the third time she realized he was doing it deliberately, and just laughed. His only reply was a slight smile, but the sight of it was terribly reassuring to her.

David drove west, out of the confines of London. He had no particular destination in mind. The only thing on his mind was Vivian. In her new dress and bonnet, Vivian Beecham did not look like a thief; she looked like a heavenly sprite in blue muslin, a smile of sheer joy on her lips as she tilted her face to the sun. He was pleased, and enthralled, and terrified. Pleased because she was delighted by his gift. Enthralled because he had never seen anyone so lovely in all his life. And terrified because…because…

He was from one of the oldest and grandest families in England. His entire life had been one of privilege and indulgence. The only thing expected of him was that he make a respectable marriage to a girl of decent family. David had made a habit of not living up to his family’s expectations of him, but this, he knew, was an absolute. He had even expected he would do it, eventually. He had never expected to love the girl; he was not required to. If David had not seen his stiff and exacting brother fall head over heels in love just this year, he would have sworn it was not possible to both love a woman and find happiness with her. But he was beginning to fear that he was falling in love with Vivian. And he was damned happy when he was with her.

“You must be relieved to be out of London at last,” he said when he had turned off the main road and onto a smaller, less crowded one.

He felt her glance at him. “Aye,” she murmured.

“We should not have waited so long to take a drive.” David turned off the road altogether and pulled the horses to a stop beside a small pond. He hesitated, then just said what he had been trying to frame in politic words since they left London. “You do not have to return with me, if you don’t wish to.”

She shifted in her seat, away from him. “I could try to find your ring—”

David gave a short, rueful laugh. “No. It’s gone. I’ve known that for some time now. Don’t worry,” he added as she flinched. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry,” she said in a rush. “Truly I am. It’s just not so simple…”

“Vivian.” He took her hand in his. He had forgotten gloves for her. On impulse he peeled off his driving gloves and reclaimed her hand, drawing his fingertips along her palm. He closed his eyes at the skin-to-skin contact. “I don’t give a damn about the ring any more.” Her fingers were tense and stiff in his. “I don’t. I didn’t think of it once last night, and I wasn’t thinking of it today.”

She said nothing.

“My butler believes I’m saving you from a life of crime,” he said after a moment.

“Well, you’re keeping me from it, sure you are,” she replied, her voice unsteady.

One corner of his mouth crooked upward. “Are you sorry?”

Vivian knew he was asking more. Was she sorry for last night? He feared she was. He hadn’t looked at her in several minutes. All his attention was focused on her hand, his head bent forward as he caressed it in a way that made her stomach flutter. “No.”

“It’s not done, in my society, to—to have a female guest in a bachelor household.”

That was no surprise. Vivian’s mother had taught her some things. But in St. Giles it was common for a man and woman to live together without marriage. Usually it was loose women and bad men, but not always.

“A few more miles along this road is a coaching inn,” he said. “We could be there in an hour.”

“An hour,” she echoed.

He nodded. “You could take passage from there to…anywhere.” She didn’t say anything. He blew out his breath. “I am offering to take you there. With fifty pounds you could travel to Scotland or back to Ireland or any place in England.”

“Fifty pounds?”

He jerked his head. “I have it in my pocket.”

“You daft fool,” she said. “Haven’t you learned not to travel with such funds? There’s highwaymen who’ll take it from you.” That got a small, reluctant smile. Vivian grinned, even though her heart was thumping. “Take it home and hide it under your floorboard. You’ll need it to pay all those new servants.”

David sighed and laughed, shaking his head. “Vivian, I am letting you go. If you wish to. I was…I was wrong to keep you.”