An Inconvenient Arrangement: Rose Room Rogues ~ Book Three

by Callie Hutton

  She nodded and licked her lips. He sauntered up to her and she backed up a step. He reached out and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist, but keeping a little bit of distance between them. “Relax, sweeting. I have no intention of pouncing on you.”

  “I didn’t think that.” Her bravado was amusing, but he would never let her know that. Before he could comment on it, a slight knock on the door drew their attention.

  Dante opened the door and allowed the footman to bring in their bags. Once they were placed where Lydia wanted them, he gave him a few coins and he left.

  He remained near the door, which seemed to please Lydia. “I noticed a bar downstairs. I think I will have a drink or two and give you some privacy to change.”

  She slumped in relief. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and left. Where the blasted hell was the independent, spirited, passionate woman he’d spent the last few weeks with? Did all new brides act this way on their wedding night?

  Patience, Dante. She needs time.

  Lydia had made use of the lovely bathing room attached to their suite, feeling refreshed after the long day, and wearing all those clothes. There were times during the day she felt as though she couldn’t breathe with the layers of garments her new sisters-in-law insisted she must wear to be a proper bride.

  The hotel had provided small jars of sweet-smelling soap and soft drying cloths for her use. She decided not to wash her hair since she didn’t have time to dry it before the fire that burned in the fireplace.

  Now she sat in the room, fidgeting while she awaited Dante’s return. About ten minutes before a maid had arrived and after ascertaining she was properly attired, waved a footman in who carried a stand with ice and a champagne bottle. They also set out an array of small sandwiches and cakes. After a slight bow, they both left.

  Properly attired, indeed. She wore a nightgown the ladies had insisted she must have for her wedding night. For goodness sake, it was practically transparent. However, it came with a white silk dressing gown that covered her quite nicely.

  * * *

  She jerked when the door opened, and Dante entered. He looked her up and down with such hunger, she almost fled the room. He shook his head slightly. “You look beautiful, Lydia.” He walked toward her slowly, and instead of feeling as though she wanted to back up, she moved toward him. Her insides had melted just having him in the room.

  They reached each other and he unhurriedly raised his hand and moved aside a lock of hair that had fallen over her eye. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down.”

  She had no idea what to say, so she licked her dry lips. His warm hand took her face and held it gently. “I’ve waited a long time for this.”

  Attempting to make light of the growing serious situation, she grinned. “I doubt you went long without this.”

  “Ah, not so, my love. I have not touched another woman since the moment I walked into Sir Phillip’s office all those weeks ago.”

  She smirked.

  “‘Tis true.” He traced her features with his finger. “No other woman has appealed to me since I met you.”

  Why did she believe him? Perhaps it was the look in his eyes and the fact that she had learned so much about this man who stood before her. He was a rake, a rogue, and a libertine, but he was also an honest and honorable man. He was protective, caring. And her husband.

  He swept her, weightless, into his arms and kissed her with all the longing she felt herself. Instead of taking her to the bed which she thought he would do, he walked to the fireplace and placed her on the settee in front of the low flame.

  He straightened. “I see they brought the champagne I ordered.” Dante picked up the bottle, opened it and poured the sparkling liquid into two thin glasses. Walking to her, he handed her one. “I would prefer to get out of these clothes. Is that all right with you?”

  She sipped the drink. “Yes.” She looked around frantically. “Where will you change?”

  “Relax, my love. I will avail myself of the bathing room.” He bent over and gave her a quick, light kiss. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  He grabbed his banyan and whistling a soft tune, left the room.

  Lydia took a deep breath and placed the glass on the table. It was nice to feel relaxed, but she didn’t want to drink too much. As nervous as she was, it was important to be aware of what was going on.

  Within a record amount of time, Dante returned from the bathing room, wearing a red and black striped dressing gown. Since his hair was damp, it appeared he took the quickest bath in history. As he walked toward her, she caught a glimpse of his bare leg and the muscles in her stomach twisted.

  He sat alongside her, resting his arm along the back of the settee, playing with the ends of her hair. “I want you to know that as much as I look forward to this, I will be gentle. I will not hurt you or embarrass you. Ever.”

  She nodded. “I know that. I trust you.”

  As though that was a cue for them to begin, he downed the champagne from his glass, and shifted closer to her and took her in his arms. “That means more to me than anything you could have said.”

  Putting a large hand to her waist, he drew her closer. His head bent, and oh so gently, pressed his lips to hers. He brushed them back and forth, then with a slight groan, crushed her to him.

  His slow drugging kiss worked to relax her more than all the champagne in the world. He nudged her lips with his tongue, and she granted him entrance, shocked at her reaction to him as he swept into her mouth, tasting, touching, sucking.

  She fought him, tongue for tongue. He pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers. “I suggest we move this activity to the bed.” They were both panting, and Lydia felt the need to remove her dressing gown, even if the nightgown underneath was invisible.

  “Yes. I think you are right.”

  Once again he scooped her into his arms, kissing her all the way to the bed where he gently laid her down. “Remove your dressing gown,” he whispered.

  She looked him in the eyes and realized she wanted to do that. Very much. Slowly, she pulled the garment off and tossed it to the floor.

  His eyes grew wide, and he looked her up and down. “Dear God, you’re exquisite.” He climbed in next to her. “And all mine.”

  Another possessive, hungry kiss had her pushing the banyan off his shoulders, running her hands over his smooth muscles. Dante flicked his fingers and untied the garment. She pushed it all the way off and he gathered it up and tossed it on top of her dressing gown. Her nipples hardened at his stare. “I love this nightgown, and want you to wear it many times, but right now I want it off.”

  He slid it over her shoulders, down her body to her feet where it also landed on the pile of discarded clothes. He urged her down so they were lying face-to-face.

  She inhaled deeply as his hand wandered her body, studying her as if she were a precious possession, stopping to squeeze, caress, and fondle. His ardor was surprisingly, touchingly, restrained.

  Dante dipped his head to take one turgid nipple into his mouth. He licked, encircling the teasing bud with his tongue. Lydia let out a soft moan.

  * * *

  “Do you like that?”

  “Hmmm.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” He grinned and continued his ministrations. “We’ve only just started, love.” His tongue made a path down her ribs to her stomach. She shifted her legs, tossing her head back and forth with growing need.

  Rather than shock her right from the start, he moved back up and kissed her while his hands and fingers kept busy stroking her curves, with feathering touches that had her panting.

  Everything in his being was focused on the beautiful woman lying alongside him. He curled his arm around her shoulders and pulled her toward him, running circles over the bare skin of her shoulders and back, moving down, cupping her lush bottom. He pulled her against his erection, rubbing gently, closing his eyes at the feel of her naked skin against his. The moment he’d been dreaming abou
t for weeks.

  His hand slid over her hip, heading for the dark curls at the juncture of her thighs. His fingers found her wet center. He circled, pressed and circled again.

  Lydia sucked in a deep breath. “Yesss. Oh, that is perfect. Don’t stop.”

  Not one for conversation during lovemaking, he thought perhaps this being his wife’s first time, a few love words and compliments might be in order.

  He whispered in her ear while sucking on her earlobe, telling her how much he desired her, how beautiful she was. He was amazed to find it stimulating for himself. ‘Twas nice to be doing something new and different with his wife.

  It might have been the words he whispered, or just Lydia’s growing enthusiasm, but she slowly moved her hand from where it had rested on his chest, growing closer to his cock. Taking her hand, he guided it to himself. “Yes, sweetheart. Touch me.”

  “It feels so odd.” She gave a soft laugh. “Probably not to you.”

  He couldn’t help it, he laughed. Something else he’d never done during lovemaking. It was freeing. He didn’t feel the usual pressure to perform, to live up to the reputation he’d developed. And not just because it was his wife’s first time. In some ways he felt as though it was the first real time for him. As if all his previous encounters had been practice.

  “Ah, Lydia, love.” He squeezed her shoulder and continued to thumb her center where he knew she would find the most pleasure. She was growing braver with her handling his cock. “That’s it, move your hand up and down.” He gritted his teeth. “Yes. Just like that.”

  His wife was a fast learner. Her breathing increased and he felt her heart pounding against his chest. From her frantic movements and breathing, it was apparent she was nearing a climax.

  “Dante, I need something. I feel very strange, as if something was missing.”

  “Relax, sweetheart. Don’t strain. It will come.”

  “What?”

  He smiled against her mouth. “You’ll see.” Not shifting his fingers, he moved his mouth over hers and kissed her with all the passion he’d been tamping down for weeks.

  “Yes. I can feel something. I think—” She stiffened and pressed against his hand, a low moan coming from her mouth.

  She was exquisite in her passion. The muscles in her face seemed to melt, as did the rest of her body. “Oh, my. That is. That is. . .” She lay panting, her chest heaving, looking at him with wonder.

  “Yes, my love. I know.” He shifted so he covered her body with his. Leaning on his elbows, he cupped her face. “This will hurt, but only for an instant. We will take it slow.”

  She studied him with glazed eyes. “All right.”

  It was probably the best time to get the pain over with since she seemed a tad unfocused. He edged his cock into her entrance, sliding in with ease until he met the female obstruction. He gripped her hands and placed their linked fingers above her head. He leaned down and kissed her as he thrust forward.

  Lydia squeaked a short yelp, her eyes opening wide. His tongue plunged into her mouth as he continued to kiss her but kept his body still. Once he felt her tensed muscles relax, he pulled out and then back in again, starting the dance of lovers from the beginning of time.

  It didn’t take her long to begin moving again, alerting him to her increasing hunger for another release. It had been so long he wasn’t certain he could last until she broke apart again, but this was his wife. This was her first time. He would make it good for her no matter how hard it was for him.

  Within minutes she moaned again and he felt her muscles grip him as he gave a few final thrusts and then spilled his seed into her body. Making her his.

  Forever.

  20

  When Dante had told her that they would spend their entire honeymoon in bed, Lydia had laughed. However, it turned out he hadn’t been joking, and they truly did not put on a stitch of clothing for three solid days. ‘Twas too bad she’d spent so much time choosing what to pack for their trip.

  They made love in bed, ate their meals in bed, read to each other in bed, played cards and chess in bed—Dante had thought of everything—and talked about their lives up to the point where they’d met, in bed. They did manage to get out of the bed to take a few baths, but they did it together and ended up making a mess on the floor each time since Dante thought the warm water of the bath would be great for making love.

  He paid the maid the first day she came to clean the room to not come back until they checked out. Lydia had been almost embarrassed to leave the hotel, sure all the staff were talking about them.

  But it had been, without a doubt, the best three days of her life.

  They sat next to each other, holding hands as the carriage pulled away from the hotel and headed to Hunt’s townhouse. Despite their rigorous activities, Lydia felt anything but tired. A tad sore, perhaps, but otherwise she was ready to begin her new life.

  “Do you have more residences for us to look at as a potential lease?”

  Dante squeezed her hand. “No. Only those few I’ve already looked at. How do you feel about living in London all year? Because of the Rose Room, I need to stay in Town.” He shifted to look at her. “I know you left every year to either visit friends or reside at your father’s estate in the country.”

  She gave his question some thought. London was a horrible place to be in the summertime when the smells and heat could choke one. “I guess I never gave it much thought, since it was something I did automatically. But it doesn’t matter since it’s necessary for us to say here.”

  “I could purchase a small estate in the country that you could retire to each summer.”

  Alarm bells went off in her head and the deep feeling of contentment slowly faded. Did he want her out of London so he could return to his rakish ways? Would he be willing to spend the money on a house he would never visit? Just to keep her out of the way?

  “What are you thinking, my love? You look upset.”

  “Nothing.” She attempted a smile. She would never tell him her thoughts. They’d made love numerous times but he never once uttered the words she wanted to hear. A married man never visited other women’s beds if he loved his wife. Did he love her?

  She hated to think about becoming a jealous suspicious wife, but her confidence had dipped just a tad. She shrugged her shoulders. “It matters not if I stay in London. Perhaps it’s not as bad as I’ve heard.”

  Once the words left her mouth she studied him carefully. Did he look disappointed? Annoyed?

  She had to stop this craziness, because that’s what it was. Then her mind continued to torture her. Dante spent time around other women by merely working in the club. And not the best sort of women, either. And what about all his past lovers? Wouldn’t they expect him to resume his old ways since many married men continued to maintain a mistress?

  The lovely breakfast they’d eaten before leaving the hotel threatened to make a re-appearance on her shoes. Once again she told herself this entire line of thinking was ridiculous and she had to turn her thoughts from it.

  “I would like to continue working at the club.” Now where had that statement come from? Was it because she wanted a sense of contributing, or was she hoping to keep an eye on her husband?

  “No.”

  She stiffened, suspicion raising its ugly head again. “Why not?”

  “Now that I am back to work, Driscoll can return to his duties, and we won’t need you.”

  She felt as though he’d slapped her in the face. He couldn’t have said anything worse. We don’t need you. Like in I don’t need you?

  She turned her head to look out the window, the quickly appearing tears she refused to release almost choking her.

  “Lydia?” Dante placed his finger under her chin and turned her head toward him.

  Oh, God, please don’t let these tears fall. “Wh__” She cleared her throat of the frog that had taken up residence. “What?”

  “Something is troubling you.”

  She tightened
her lips and shook her head. And to her dismay one tear dripped down her face. Angrily, she swiped it away. Mad at him, mad at herself and mostly mad at what a cake she was making of herself. Another tear broke loose. She drew in a shuddering breath, and then the floodgates opened.

  Dante drew her into his arms and rested his chin on her head. “What’s wrong, Lydia? Is it working at the club? If you feel that strongly about it, perhaps you could work on the books again. Driscoll could probably use a night off on a regular basis.”

  She pulled back, wiping her cheeks. “Truly?”

  “Sweetheart, if it means that much to you, then yes. As long as you do not wander the game floor.”

  She looked into his eyes and only saw caring, and maybe even a bit of love. Her heart already belonged to him. That she’d known when she had awaited him at the Ambassador’s theater box, expecting to say goodbye. “Yes. I agree.” There she went, agreeing with him again.

  “I must visit the club tonight, to at least see how things are going, and to assure my brother that I am alive and well, and my wife didn’t wear me out.”

  She grinned, feeling much better at his light words. “I will go with you.”

  He hesitated at first, but then said, “Of course.”

  The ride went quickly after that, and soon they were rolling to a stop in front of Hunt’s home. The driver jumped down and opened the door, allowing Dante to step out and extend his hand to her.

  The front door opened and a footman stepped out. “Good morning, Mr. Rose.” He beamed in Lydia’s direction. “And good morning to you as well, Mrs. Rose.”

  It felt odd to be addressed that way but felt wonderful at the same time. “Thank you.”

  They stepped through the door and Diana came hustling down the stairs. “There you are. We were expecting you for breakfast.”

  Dante accepted Diana’s hug. She turned to Lydia. “My new sister-in-law!” She linked her arm into Lydia’s and they started up the stairs. “You must tell me all about your trip. Did you see any sights?”