When You Wish Upon a Rogue

by Bennett, Anna

  Reese took a step forward and folded his arms across his chest. “Send me a detailed accounting of his debts. I’ll figure out a way to pay them—even if it means selling all my personal possessions.”

  Singleton’s brows shot up. “Ah, you fancy yourself Miss Kendall’s knight in shining armor,” he said dryly. “How noble. But I’m afraid this arrangement is about more than money. I’ve spent the whole damned season courting Sophie and haven’t any more time to waste. I’m eager to establish myself in society and proceed with the business of producing an heir.”

  Sophie shuddered. “I will not marry you. And I most certainly will not be your broodmare.”

  “Oh, but I think you will,” Singleton drawled. “You forget that I have the means to ruin you and your friends.”

  Sophie’s heart dropped like a stone tossed into the Thames.

  Over by the desk, Mary sniffled. “What’s he talking about, Sophie?”

  Before she could respond, Singleton said, “I have, in my possession, a journal that details the inner workings of a radical secret society of women and list the names of all its members—some of whom may be witches.”

  Mary inhaled sharply. “You’re connected to The Debutante’s Revenge?”

  Sophie’s fingers went numb. “I … I…”

  Reese strode toward Charles, stood toe to toe with him, and clenched his fists. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Singleton. Miss Kendall does not own a journal.”

  “Your loyalty would be impressive”—Charles flashed Reese a smug smile—“if it weren’t so pathetic. You’ve seen the journal with your own eyes, Warshire. In fact, I have it right—”

  Sophie clutched the edge of the table beside her so that she wouldn’t launch herself at Charles and pummel him.

  The marquess patted his chest with one hand, then the other, and his pompous expression turned to panic. “What the devil? How did you—” His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. “The collision on the dance floor? Damn it, Warshire. You’re no better than a St. Giles pickpocket.”

  Reese shrugged.

  “I demand that you return the journal to me at once.” Lord Singleton’s mottled red nose was almost touching Reese’s, but he didn’t retreat an inch.

  “I thought I was clear. There is no journal. And if there ever was…” Reese’s voice trailed off, and his gaze flicked to the fireplace.

  “You. Bastard.” Singleton spun on his boot heel, punched the plaster wall, and moaned, cradling his limp hand against his abdomen. Mary rushed to his side, eager to play nursemaid, while Sophie did her very best to refrain from rolling her eyes.

  “As luck would have it,” Reese said, nonchalant, “there’s an obvious solution to this dilemma—one that should be satisfactory to all of us.”

  “Damn it, man,” Singleton cried, “it’s two minutes to midnight.”

  Reese grinned. “Then we’d better not waste any more time.”

  * * *

  As the grandfather clock outside the ballroom began to chime, footmen weaved through the crowd, flourishing trays of fizzy champagne. Sophie slipped into the room through the main entrance, with Mary by her side. The air buzzed with speculation about the marquess’s impending toast. Most guests predicted that Lord Singleton would announce his engagement, but there was endless speculation as to who his fiancée would be.

  Behind Sophie, a group of rowdy gentlemen placed wagers. Apparently, a fresh-faced debutante named Lady Arabella was the favorite, with odds of five to one. Sophie was mentioned as the dark horse; it seemed the dance floor spectacle she’d been involved in earlier had made her even more of a long shot.

  “I’m so sorry, Sophie,” Mary whispered.

  “I know. But the blame isn’t all yours. I’ve been keeping secrets too.”

  Mary nodded soberly. “Are you nervous?”

  “Yes,” Sophie admitted. “My heart’s beating so loudly, it’s a wonder you can’t hear it.” She craned her neck, looking for Charles and Reese, whom they’d left in the library only minutes ago.

  Mary lifted her chin in the direction of the doors leading to the terrace. “There they are now.” The men sauntered into the ballroom as though they’d simply stepped outside to sneak a cigar. Reese hung back while Charles smoothed his jacket and headed toward the dais where the orchestra sat, resting their instruments and awaiting the toast.

  Sophie swallowed a knot the size of a goose egg. “We’d better make our way to the front.” As they did, she spotted their parents near the refreshment table. Papa’s glazed, bloodshot eyes could have been from too much drink, or not enough. Mama’s thin, drawn lips and creased forehead betrayed her anxiousness. They all knew this was the final round of a high-stakes game, where a win would give their family peace of mind and prosperity, but a loss would mean complete ruin.

  But Sophie had gambled even more—her heart, happiness, and soul.

  Across the room, standing beside their dashing husbands on the perimeter of the dance floor, Fiona and Lily smiled encouragingly at Sophie. She adored them for their valiant attempts to support her, but she could see the underlying sadness in their eyes as they watched Charles step onto the dais. They’d wanted more for Sophie.

  They’d wanted her to have passion and respect and love. The kind she could have had with Reese.

  “If I may interrupt the festivities for a moment,” Charles announced loudly, “I’d like to make a toast.”

  The room immediately quieted, and every head swiveled toward the handsome marquess.

  “I apologize for keeping you in suspense all evening,” he said with the sort of self-deprecating charm that made several ladies titter. “But I do hope you’ll agree with me when I say that the happy news will have been well worth the wait. It is with great pride and pleasure that, at long last, I can officially announce my engagement to my lovely fiancée … Miss Kendall.”

  Dear God. A chorus of cheers and a smattering of applause rose above the crowd as every person in the room turned to stare at Sophie. Her limbs froze and her body turned to ice so brittle that one tap would have left her in shards on the parquet floor.

  Charles cleared his throat and continued, “Miss Mary Kendall.”

  The ballroom erupted in a mix of disbelieving gasps and shocked exclamations.

  Sophie thawed and gave her sister’s clammy hand a reassuring squeeze. “Go to him,” she whispered. “All will be well.”

  Mary sheepishly joined Charles and accepted the arm he offered. Her demure smile and timid behavior created a stark contrast to the passionate scene in the library, but Sophie was delighted to know that her normally reserved sister had a wild side. Who knew? Perhaps she’d even join the Debutante Underground one day.

  All around Sophie, the ballroom exploded in a cacophony of clinking glasses, effusive cheers, and excited murmurs. As well-wishers swarmed the dais, she hurried to her parents, who stood just outside the throng, each wearing the distinctly confused expression of one who bit into a tart thinking it was raspberry only to discover that it was, in fact, marmalade.

  Mama reached for Sophie’s hand, patting it consolingly. “I don’t understand what’s happened, my dear, but I’m certain your father will set it to rights.”

  Papa grunted. “I’ll not let Singleton toss you aside like this,” he said firmly. “Even if it is for my other daughter. It isn’t right.”

  Sophie hugged each of her parents in turn, warmed by their devotion. “Everything is exactly as it should be,” she assured them. “Mary cares for Lord Singleton and is delighted by the arrangement. He’s warmed to the idea as well. I think they’re going to be very happy together.”

  “But what about you?” Mama asked. “This must have come as quite a shock. I do hope you’re not heartbroken.”

  “Not at all,” Sophie said. She glanced about the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Reese, but he seemed to have disappeared. “Indeed, my heart is more hopeful than it’s been in a very long time. Mary and I will explain more tomorrow. For now, I s
uggest you celebrate the engagement as though you’d expected this pairing all along.”

  Mama cast an assessing gaze at Mary and Charles as they stood on the dais, graciously accepting congratulations from well-wishers. “I didn’t think our Mary had it in her,” Mama mused, tilting her head. “But now that I see them together, I must admit they make a rather striking couple.”

  “They do,” Sophie agreed.

  “Ah, Fiona and Lily are coming this way,” Mama said. “They’ll know just how to cheer you up.”

  Sophie opened her mouth to say that she wasn’t sad in the least, but thought better of it and simply nodded. “Will you both excuse me?” she asked her parents, heading toward her friends. Lily and Fiona each grabbed one of her elbows and whisked her to a quiet corner of the ballroom.

  “Would you like to tell us what is going on?” Lily asked in a stage whisper, her green eyes flashing with curiosity. “How did Mary…?”

  “It’s a rather long story, but suffice it to say that Mary’s pleased with the outcome.”

  Fiona rubbed Sophie’s arm soothingly. “What about you?”

  “I’m delighted that I no longer have to marry Charles,” she admitted. “In fact, I’d turn cartwheels across the room right now if it wouldn’t make me look quite mad.”

  Lily chuckled, then bit her lower lip. “What about the journal? Is Charles still threatening to expose the Debutante Underground?”

  Sophie shook her head. “When we collided on the dance floor earlier, Reese managed to reach into Charles’s jacket and recover my journal. He destroyed it before Charles realized it was missing from his pocket.”

  “Thank heaven,” Fiona said, sweeping an auburn curl behind one ear. “Although I’m sad to hear your journal is gone.”

  “It is a shame. But considering the alternative…” Sophie suppressed a shudder.

  Lily shot her a saucy smile. “So, after tonight’s events we can conclude that your Reese is devastatingly handsome, terribly heroic, and wickedly good with his hands. I wonder where the mysterious earl is now?”

  Sophie wondered the same thing. “To say that he’s not particularly fond of balls would be a gross understatement. Now that disaster has been averted, I suspect he’s on his way back to Warshire Manor,” she said, trying to mask her disappointment.

  “Good evening, ladies.”

  Reese’s voice, deep and gravelly, sent a delightful shiver over her skin, and she whirled to face him. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him till the world around them faded away. But instead, she properly introduced him to her friends, who smiled warmly, immediately accepting him into their tight circle.

  “Gray introduced us a bit earlier,” Fiona said. “We’re so happy that all has ended well.”

  Reese surreptitiously reached for Sophie’s hand and laced his fingers through hers. “There are still a few matters to be resolved,” he said. To Sophie, “Is there any chance you could slip away tonight?”

  The moment Sophie gazed into his heavy-lidded eyes, she felt herself drowning in a sea of longing and love. “I might be able to arrange that,” she breathed.

  “Good.” His voice vibrated through her, and every nerve ending in her body came alive. “I’ll be outside in my coach, waiting for you.” He pressed a lingering, sensual kiss to the back of her hand, then bowed and strode away, leaving all three women fanning themselves. Vigorously.

  “Well,” Lily said, a bit breathless. “I can’t imagine what you’re waiting for, Soph.”

  She watched Reese walk away, and the sight of his broad shoulders and taut backside made her insides flutter. “Neither can I.” She shot her friends a mischievous grin. “But I might need a bit of help.”

  Chapter 37

  Reese sat in his coach, rapidly tapping the heel of his boot against the floor in an effort to expel his excess energy. While he waited for Sophie, he mentally rehearsed all the things he wanted to say to her. Wondered if she’d ever realize just how much his chest ached every time he looked at her.

  She emerged from Singleton’s house a few minutes later, the starlight gilding her blond hair and illuminating her delicate features. His heart pounded with anticipation as he hopped out of the cab, met her on the pavement, and quickly helped her step into the coach.

  He closed the door and turned to drink in the sight of her face. “Thank God you’re here,” he breathed, and before the words were even out of his mouth, she’d climbed onto his lap, her knees straddling him.

  As the coach began rolling over the cobblestone streets, their mouths collided in a raw, ravenous kiss. His teeth tugged at her bottom lip, her nails dug into his shoulders. He speared his fingers into her hair and grabbed a fistful of silken strands. She ground her hips against his cock, and he thrust back.

  “Reese,” she murmured against his neck, “I need you. I need this.”

  Sweet Jesus. He’d never made love in a moving coach before. Or a stationary one, for that matter. But he was definitely up for the challenge—as soon as they resolved one small matter.

  Cupping her cheeks in his hands, he looked deep into her eyes. “I need you too,” he said raggedly. “I was trapped in a prison of grief and guilt, sentenced to reliving the torture over and over again. But you walked into my godforsaken life, lighting it up like fireworks. Challenging everything I thought I knew. Reminding me of how it feels to be happy.”

  She licked her plump, kiss-swollen lips. “You’ve changed me too. I’ve been living so much of my life in secret—the Debutante Underground, all the nights I spent with you—and I don’t want to hide those parts of myself anymore. I don’t want to apologize for what I believe in or who I love.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” He tipped his forehead to hers and ran his hands over the curves of her hips, pulling her closer. “Because I love you, Sophie Kendall. I love your tender heart and your bold spirit. I love the way you nurture and heal everything you touch. And I love that one smile from you can make the darkest night feel like Christmas morning.”

  “Oh, Reese,” she breathed. “I love you too.”

  “Good,” he said, brushing his lips over hers. “Because I have something to ask you, and I’m desperately hoping that the third time will be the charm.”

  “What do you mean?” She leisurely raked a hand through his hair, making him want to purr like a cat.

  “I asked you once when we were sitting on the swing in my garden and another time when we were hiding beneath a table.” He traced the low neckline of her gown with a fingertip. “Both times I was refused.”

  “Let me guess,” she teased. “You’d like me to make a list of improvements to your garden?”

  He tugged one sleeve off her shoulder. “No.”

  “Hmm,” she mused. “You’d like me to brew you a pot of tea.”

  He slid off the other sleeve. “No.”

  She lightly caressed the back of his neck, driving him wild. “Then what do you wish to ask me?”

  “I want to know if you’ll marry me,” he said earnestly. “If you’ll let me spend the rest of my days loving you and caring for you. Doing my damnedest to make you smile.”

  “Yes.” Her eyes welled as she nodded. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Nothing in the world would make me happier, Reese.”

  “Nothing?” He grinned and tugged on the laces at the back of her ball gown.

  Her gaze turned soft and sultry. “Well, maybe something.”

  He loosened her gown and corset and freed her breasts, staring shamelessly as they bounced each time the coach hit a bump in the road. He teased the rosy tips with his tongue, alternately nibbling and suckling her till she arched her back and moaned with pleasure.

  He slid a hand beneath her gown and up the back of her thighs. Squeezed her luscious bottom. Caressed the slick heat between her legs. The temperature rose and the coach windows fogged over. Only the two of them existed, and they were both panting, dizzy with desire.

  With nimble fingers, she unbuttoned his trousers and
stroked the long, hard length of him. “I have missed you,” she said. “I have dreamed of this—of you—every night.”

  He gasped as she positioned his cock at her entrance and writhed against him. “You’re amazing, Soph. I can’t believe you’re here … with me like this.”

  “I’m here,” she repeated, taking him inside her tight, hot body. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

  He eased in slowly, letting her adjust to the size of him. Her knees on either side of his hips, she placed her palms on the ceiling of the cab and began moving up and down, slow and fast, measured and frenzied. The swaying of the coach and the vibration of the seat felt wickedly erotic. Every time she lowered herself, sheathing him completely, he went a little mad. In the best bloody way.

  He grasped her hips and nibbled the taut peak of one breast until she whimpered. Clenched her muscles around him. Cried out in ecstasy.

  “Oh God, Reese.” Her eyes fluttered shut, her back arched, and her body pulsed as release shimmered through her, carrying him right along.

  Head buzzing, muscles coiling, he came with the raw force and power of a hurricane. Pleasure, pure and potent, roared through his body, mind, and soul, obliterating the grief and guilt inside of him. Washing it out to sea.

  He and Sophie floated above the storm, clinging to each other and savoring every surge, until, at last, she collapsed on top of him. Resting her head on his shoulder, she murmured, “I love you.”

  He trailed his fingertips over her bare back, soothing her heated skin. “I love you.”

  But as she slid her hand from the side of his neck down his chest, she sat up, frowning. “What’s this?”

  “Hmm?” His mind was still pleasantly dazed, his body completely sated.

  She patted the outside of his jacket. “There’s something hard in here.”

  “Oh.” Grinning, he sat up, pulled the object out of his pocket, and presented it to her. “For you.”

  “My journal,” she breathed. Once again, her expression turned rapturous as she clutched the book to her gloriously naked breasts.

  “I didn’t think it possible to be jealous of a journal,” he said. “But I’ve proven myself wrong.”