When You Wish Upon a Rogue

by Bennett, Anna

  Still, taking this plunge was about proving something to herself.

  She couldn’t see or hear Reese from where she stood, but she knew he was out there—and that she was safe with him.

  All that was left to do was jump in—and she might as well do it properly, without settling for half measures. Determined, she took several giant steps backward and counted down in her head. Three, two, one.

  She charged toward the end of the pier, leaped into the air, and hugged her knees to her chest. Her shift billowed and her hair floated around her for one interminable second—before the bracingly cold water swallowed her up.

  Heart pounding, she scissor-kicked to the surface, slicked back her hair, and lifted her face to the night air, triumphant.

  In the distance, Reese yelled, but Sophie’s waterlogged ears couldn’t make out the words.

  “Reese?” she called back.

  “Sophie!” This time, his panicked shout carried across the lake. “Hold on. I’m coming.”

  She spun around, bobbing and squinting at the darkness. “Don’t worry, I’m fine!”

  But he didn’t seem to hear. He swam like a shark on the hunt, cutting through the water with breathtaking power and precision. Head down, he barreled toward her—as though his life depended on it. Or as if he thought hers did.

  She swam to the ladder, sat on the top rung, and waved her arms, trying to draw his attention before he gave himself an apoplexy. “Reese!” she shouted.

  He paused several yards away and looked up at her, gasping. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “The same thing you’re doing.” She rubbed the tops of her arms and shrugged. “Swimming.”

  He frowned for a split second—then grinned. “You’re swimming,” he repeated.

  “I was,” she corrected. “Till you chased me out of the water.”

  “I thought you were drowning,” he said, panting. “I was trying to save you.”

  It was a sweet sentiment, and Sophie smiled at him as she stepped off the ladder, slowly submerging herself in the water. But the truth was that no one could save her—at least not in the way she needed saving. There was no escaping the future that had been prescribed for her.

  And that future was knocking on her door.

  She dipped beneath the surface, then swam toward the colorful lantern lights hanging from the giant oak. Reese followed closely, as though he still feared she might be in danger of sinking to the bottom of the lake, never to surface again.

  But after she’d demonstrated she was capable of floating, he seemed to relax a little.

  “I can’t believe that you, Sophie Kendall, jumped into the lake,” he teased. His shoulders, impossibly broad and smooth, flexed with every subtle swish of his arms, and she wanted to run her palms over his skin.

  “What’s so shocking about it?” she said, punctuating the question with a playful splash. “Did you expect me to sit idly on the pier while you frolicked in the lake?”

  “First off, I did not frolic. Second, I guess I did expect you to wait,” he admitted. “But I’m glad you joined me. Swimming alone isn’t nearly as fun.”

  They floated under the old oak tree, where the lanterns above glowed like a treasure chest of rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and gold.

  “It’s not too deep here,” Reese said, treading water beside her. “If you tire, you can head a few yards toward the shore and stand. Or…”

  “What?” Sophie asked, trying to keep her chin above the surface.

  “Or you could hold on to me.”

  “Reese,” she said, speaking his name like a warning—mostly to herself.

  “Only as a last resort,” he qualified. “In case you were desperate.”

  “I don’t think it will come to that,” she said, a little breathless.

  “Thank God,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “There’s a chance I’ll escape this lake with my virtue intact.”

  “Very funny.” She splashed him again, and this time, he retaliated by flicking a few drops in her direction.

  Before long, their peaceful moonlight swim erupted into an all-out splash war.

  He sank stealthily below the surface and circled around her, then popped up behind her and launched a surprise attack, spraying the back of her neck.

  Sophie, on the other hand, exercised patience and tried to time her splashes for maximum effect. She waited until he came up for air, then squeezed her palms together to squirt a stream at his cheek.

  He laughed—a deep, rumbling sound she felt low in her belly. “You’ll pay for that,” he said, a promise that was one part playful, one part wicked.

  “You’ll have to catch me first,” she taunted, and her heart clattered in her chest as she started for the pier, kicking as though a sea monster nipped at her heels. Reese gave chase, but only half-heartedly. He could have overtaken her in the space of two seconds if he’d wished.

  Sophie shouldn’t have been disappointed that she reached the ladder before he caught her, but the victory felt slightly hollow. Almost as if she’d wanted him to catch her.

  But now she was climbing the ladder, her chest heaving. Her hair dripped over her shoulders down her back. Her shift clung to her thighs and dipped low across her breasts.

  The fact that all of this should have been entirely predictable didn’t make it any less problematic. She stepped onto the pier and stood there, hugging her arms.

  Reese clambered up behind her, and the sight of him emerging from the water with droplets running down his chest made her a little dizzy.

  He scooped up his quilt and handed it to her. “Here. Wrap up in this.”

  “Thank you.” She tossed it over her shoulders like a cloak, snuggling into the instant warmth. Exhausted, she sank onto one end of the blanket still spread on the pier and waved at spot beside her. “There’s room for you to sit, too.”

  He eyed the vacant side of the quilt warily. “You’re certain?”

  She looked up at him, taking in his breathtaking bare chest and soaking wet trousers. No man should be that attractive, that irresistible. “Yes. I’m sure.”

  Reese lowered himself onto the quilt and sat cross-legged, as she did. Droplets clung to his shoulders, and his skin glistened in the soft glow of the lanterns. “Tell me something, Sophie,” he whispered.

  She tilted her head. “What?”

  “How is it that someone as lovely, smart, and passionate as you hasn’t already married?”

  Heat crept up her face. “No one has captured my heart … before now,” she added.

  Reese sat very still. “Before Singleton, you mean.”

  Sophie shook her head, unable to lie to him. “Lord Singleton does not have my heart.”

  “Then … why?” he asked—and she knew precisely what he meant. Why would she willingly bind herself to a man she didn’t love?

  “It’s complicated,” she said, even though it wasn’t. Not really. “My father has a tendency to drink too much, and, due to a series of poor business decisions on his part, my family’s financial situation is … dire.”

  “I’m sorry.” He gazed at her, his expression solemn and tender at the same time. “I know the toll that can take.”

  “You do?” She’d just assumed he was rich—and felt a twinge of guilt that she’d been blind to his struggles.

  He shrugged. “Money worries are just one of demons that keep me up at night. When I inherited the title a few months ago, the books were in shambles and the estate was insolvent. But I’m going to turn it around,” he said firmly.

  “I’m sure you will.” Sophie wished she had a penny for every time Papa had proclaimed he’d devised a plan to save them all.

  Reese ran his fingers over the light stubble along his jaw. “So, you want to marry Singleton for his fortune.”

  “It’s not a matter of wanting to. I must.”

  “I thought you had an older sister. Why is it solely up to you to make an advantageous match?”

  “Mary was ill as
a child, and her health is quite delicate. She’s spent very little time in society.” Sophie squared her shoulders and blew out a long breath. “I’m the only hope my family has left. I can’t ignore my duty to help them … even if I might wish to.”

  “I see,” he said, his voice so devoid of emotion that he seemed a ghost of the man who’d been chasing her in the lake only moments before.

  She needed him to know what he meant to her—even if she was still trying to figure it out herself. Deliberately, she shrugged off the quilt and let it fall onto the pier behind her. Her thin, transparent shift provided no cover from Reese’s hot, hungry gaze.

  “I want you to know I’ve never done anything like this before,” she said. “I’ve never gone swimming in my underclothes in the middle of the night and I’ve certainly never spent the night with a man. I’ve been taking chances with you, Reese. A dangerous thing, to be sure.”

  He swallowed and looked at her, earnest. “I would never hurt you.”

  “Not intentionally,” she said, knowing it was true. But she was already hurting. It was the agonizing pain of wanting something with all her soul and having that prize dangled in front of her, just beyond her fingertips. Knowing she would never, ever possess it.

  “I wish I was free to follow my heart,” she said. “I’m sorry that I’m not.”

  “You don’t need to apologize,” he said firmly. “I knew from the start that you were promised to another, and in spite of that, you were kind enough to help me.”

  “But?” she asked, sensing he wished to say more.

  “But now I’m tortured in a different way, Sophie.” His expression was naked with longing. “I want to touch you.”

  His confession made her whole body thrum with desire. How easy it would be to lean into him and press her lips to his. God, she wanted to—and yet, she didn’t dare.

  But perhaps there was some middle ground. She thoughtfully picked up the bouquet of peonies and slipped one free of the silk ribbon. Grasping it by the long stem, she brought its soft, feathery petals to her lips and briefly closed her eyes as she let its scent fill her head. Reese stared, tracking the movement of the flower as though it were a rare and precious jewel.

  “We cannot touch,” she said to him, her voice hoarse with regret. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel you—in the night breeze, in the soft quilt … in this flower.”

  Before she could change her mind, she reached out and touched the blossom to the side of his face. Ever so slowly, she swept it across his cheek and jaw, thrilling at the hitch of his breath and the heaviness of his eyelids. Emboldened, she brushed the petals across his lips and savored the moan that came from deep in his throat.

  “You see?” she whispered. “We are connected in more ways than you know.”

  Chapter 14

  Reese’s blood was on fire.

  Sophie sat across from him like a river nymph, or rather, a lake nymph. Her long blond hair hung in wet waves over her shoulders, and her skin seemed to glow from within. Her thin wet shift stuck to her like seaweed, leaving nothing to the imagination. And he’d imagined plenty.

  But Sophie was right—their connection was more than physical.

  Unfortunately, the closer they grew, the more he wanted her. In every way.

  He gestured toward the pale pink flower resting on her shapely, half-exposed thigh. “May I?” he asked.

  She moistened her lips with her tongue, then nodded. “Of course,” she said, carefully handing him the flower by the stem.

  He took it and gazed deep into her bottomless blue eyes for several seconds. “Sophie Kendall,” he began. “You are as mysterious to me as a mermaid and as necessary as the sun. You are everything I’d hoped for and far more than I deserve.”

  “Reese,” she said softly. “That’s not true.”

  “It’s absolutely true,” he insisted. “I need you to understand it—and believe it. If I were an honorable man, I’d send you away and protect you from this…” He swallowed the knot in his throat. “This thing between us. But I’m a selfish bastard, and you … you are nigh impossible to resist.”

  Her lips parted and her eyes welled with tears.

  He twisted the stem of the flower between his thumb and forefinger, cursing himself for what he was about to do. “I won’t hurt you. I won’t violate your rules. But you can be damned sure that I’m going to take anything you’re willing to give me.”

  She gave him a wobbly smile. “That seems fair.”

  Dear God—if she only knew.

  Deliberately, he used the flower to caress the arch of her foot, back and forth. Her toes curled in response, and she sighed but didn’t pull away.

  “How was that?” he murmured.

  “Unexpectedly…” She blinked, searching for the word. “… Arousing.”

  “We’ve only just begun,” he said, feeling hopeful—and, maybe, a little smug. Using the lightest touch of the flower petals, he traced a path from her ankle to her knee to her thigh.

  She remained still as a statue, but he heard her sharp intake of breath. “Reese,” she said, his name a plea on her lips.

  “Will you lie down, Sophie?” he asked. “Lie down and try to relax.”

  She tucked a pillow under her head, stretched out on her side, and smiled. “Our roles have reversed. I’m supposed to tell you to lie down and relax.”

  “Then I’ll lie down too,” he said, propping himself on an elbow and facing her.

  When she gazed at him sensuously, expectantly, he chuckled. “You might be the death of me,” he said. “And if you are, I can think of no better way to go.”

  “But I haven’t done anything,” she said, mildly affronted.

  The rock-hard erection in his trousers was evidence to the contrary, and, if she happened to look in that direction, the proof would be difficult to miss.

  “I meant it purely as a compliment,” he assured her, trailing the flower lightly across her forehead. “Close your eyes, Soph.”

  Her eyelids fluttered shut and the corner of her mouth curled in a half smile. “Very well. But I’m only agreeable because I find myself exhausted after beating you so soundly in our race.”

  He chuckled again. “Stands to reason,” he said, letting the petals drift over her eyes and cheeks and under her chin.

  “That feels so … nice,” she breathed, snuggling into her pillow.

  “Imagine that it’s me touching you,” he whispered. “My fingertips running over your skin. My mouth tasting your lips.” He brushed the peony over her bare shoulder and down the length of her arm, lingering on the back of her hand.

  “You shouldn’t say such wicked things,” she teased, her thick lashes still flush against her cheeks.

  “Saying wicked things isn’t against the rules,” he quipped. “Besides, there was nothing wicked in what I said.”

  “No?”

  “No. I keep the wicked things in my head. It’s a mad crush of improper thoughts in there.” For example, at that very moment he was imagining ripping open the front of her shift and burying his head between her breasts before working his way down her belly, spreading her thighs apart and—

  “Reese?” she said, her voice raspy.

  He shifted to make more room for his erection. “Yes?”

  “I’m pretending, like you said. I’m imagining that you’re touching me, and while I know it’s probably not as good as the real thing…”

  “Definitely not as good,” he confirmed.

  “Yes. Well, I’m fairly certain that I wouldn’t feel this way with anyone else.”

  Reese’s jaw clenched at the thought of Sophie with anyone but him. “You’re thinking too much,” he said, chiding himself more than her. “Just feel.”

  He let the peony cruise over the swells of her breasts, freezing when her shoulders trembled. “Too much?” he asked.

  “No.” Her eyes fluttered open and she looked directly at him. “Are you familiar with The Debutante’s Revenge?”

  H
e shook his head. “Whatever it is, it sounds formidable.”

  “It is,” she said proudly. “It’s a newspaper advice column devoted to matters of the heart and subjects that are not discussed in genteel drawing rooms.”

  “And what advice would The Debutante’s Revenge give right now?” he asked, brushing the flower across the delicate lines of her collarbone.

  “Make your desires known,” she said, as if she were quoting from the column. “Ask for what you want.”

  “What do you want, Sophie?”

  “I want … I want you to move the flower a bit lower.” She sat up and slipped the straps of her chemise off her shoulders, then peeled the damp fabric away from her breasts, down to her waist.

  She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—graceful, kind, and courageous. He’d fought beside brave men, and Sophie was just as brave, in her own way. She knew something of sacrifice and honor; she’d lived it.

  And now she sat a few scant inches away, baring herself to him. Her luminous, impossibly smooth skin begged to be touched. Her petite, perfectly rounded breasts made his mouth go dry.

  “I would do anything to please you,” he said earnestly. “Anything.”

  She shivered slightly and smiled. “I know,” she said. “And I trust you.”

  “Good.” He took a fresh peony from the bouquet as well as the silk ribbon that had bound it. He tied the ribbon in a knot just below the blossom and left the long ends free. Then, he used the flower and silk tie to do everything he wished he could do with his hands and mouth.

  He caressed the curve of her neck and traced a slow, languorous path down her arm and across her flat belly. He teased the undersides of her breasts until a moan escaped her lips, then circled the tight, pale pink buds until she strained toward him.

  “Better?” he whispered.

  “Better,” she confirmed, gazing at him beneath heavy-lidded eyes. “And worse.”

  “I know,” he said, sympathizing. He was nearly mad with raw, hot need … but this moment was purely for Sophie.

  He stared deep into her eyes as he deliberately grazed the taut peak of one breast, and she shuddered as though he’d flicked her nipple with his tongue. He continued to torment her with feathery, light strokes, gradually increasing the pressure of the satiny petals until she let out a soft cry. Then he turned his attention to her other breast, showering it with equal affection.