The Kiss of a Rogue

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  However that did not mean that Adam was any more patient than he had been earlier and was now pacing the length of Enwright's study and snapping at anyone who got too close. Which was, unfortunately, most of the house party since the masked ball had been cancelled for that night in light of Abigail's kidnapping.

  "Hathaway, do sit down. I am certain that Hastings will send for you when he is finished examining Abigail." Enwright lounged against his desk, one hand carelessly holding a glass of brandy. Looks were deceptive however, for anyone with an eye could see that the duke was tense and clearly on edge as well.

  However, Adam didn't hear a word the other man said. "I know that Abby said that the scoundrel did not touch her, but what if she does not remember?" His throat closed at the very thought of anyone harming his precious Abigail in that manner.

  "He didn't." That came from Lord Underhill who was staring out the large, sweeping windows that, during the day, allowed sunlight to pour into the cozy study. "I have that on good authority from Charlotte. She assures me that there would have been, er, signs of some sort. I trust her word on the matter."

  Adam relaxed a fraction. If Charlotte said that her friend had not been touched, then that was the truth. Out of all of the females present at Fairhaven, she would be the most likely to know. "That is...good." It was the most inadequate word to pick to describe how he felt, but it was the best he could manage at the moment.

  "I know you are worried," Enwright tried again, "but she is safe. Or is there more to this than that? Clearly you love the chit, so what is the issue?" Enwright offered Adam a glass of brandy and to everyone's surprise, Adam took the glass and downed it in one gulp. It seemed that his days of abstaining were over. Moderation, however, was clearly in his future as he recalled that morning he had awoken nearly naked in the garden. The morning he had first met Abigail.

  "Or is it that she does not know you love her, while she has already admitted her love to you?" At the sideboard, Underhill poured himself a double of whiskey. "Not that I am an expert on such matters, mind you, as I have only recently remembered my identity and therefore can't be trusted on such matters regarding the opposite sex." He shrugged as he took a sip, leaning heavily on his cane as he limped back towards one of the high, wing-backed chairs. "But my sister Eliza assures me this is the case, since now that she has found matrimonial bliss, she is eager for me to do so as well. Then again, I still can't remember how I came to be injured, so what do I know?"

  Enwright snorted. "Have you told Charlotte that you love her then?"

  "Lord, no!" Underhill shook his head. "Her parents can barely tolerate being in the same ballroom as me. They still think I'm some sort of lecher out to ruin her and make a mockery of the great Waverly name so I don't dare." He shrugged as he settled into the chair, his leg clearly paining him. "For all I know, they could be right. Maybe I am a lecher. Or an axe-wielding murderer. Or even a common costermonger fresh from the depths of some place exotic like India, I suppose. Still don't remember all that much. It's likely that I never will, or so I'm told."

  Pushing away from the desk, Enwright came to join his friend. "They'll come around in time, Underhill. Not like Lucy's uncle who attempted to sell her into prostitution in Covent Garden by way of my insane brother." He took a healthy swig of his own drink. "Then attempted to kidnap her after I married her, just so he could get his hands on her fortune. Bloody bastard wouldn't speak a single word to me after I had him tossed in Newgate!"

  "The sheer cheek of the man!" Underhill exclaimed, stretching out his injured leg. Then he saluted Adam with his glass. "Be thankful that your only crime against Abigail is that you haven't said you love her. Could be much worse. Just look at the two of us." He tossed Enwright a meaningful glance.

  "Her parents will likely hate me," Adam offered, realizing how ridiculous he sounded.

  Enwright scoffed. "You're a bloody duke! And not even The Bloody Duke, so you have that going for you, at least. How could they possibly hate you?" Then he inclined his head. "Horrid reputation aside, of course."

  "They wanted her to marry Burleigh." Even just saying the man's name made Adam want to pummel the bastard until he was dead.

  Underhill gave a snort of disgust. "And we can all see how much of a gentleman he was. I'd wager there are highwaymen who treat their wives better than that wretch would have done."

  "Hell, even Lucy's uncle wasn't that bad." Enwright shrugged. "Relatively speaking, of course."

  The utterly absurd conversation made Adam laugh and soon, all three men were chuckling. That release went a long way to easing the tension in the room, and when Dr. Hastings sent a servant to fetch Adam, he was not nearly as surly and snappish as he had been earlier - which was clearly a great relief to the footman who had obviously expected to have his head all but taken off when he came to deliver the news that Abigail was awake and able to receive visitors.

  As he was about to follow the footman out the door, Enwright called out to Adam. "Feel a bit more level?"

  He nodded. "I do. Thank you."

  "Don't muck it up then," Underhill offered with another salute of his glass.

  Adam followed the footman for all of about a minute before he raced past the infernally slow man, eager to reach Abigail and nearly cracking his skull open on the carved oak staircase railing in the process. She was all he could think about and no matter how calm he had become while with his friends, now that he was away from their jokes and ribbing, his mind conjured up all manner of nasty fates that could have befallen her.

  Or still might. What if she became ill from being outside so often? Then again, it had been hot and perfectly dry as of late so he decided that was unlikely. A fever? Again, possible but unlikely. He had forgotten to check her for any sort of animal bites and wondered if Hastings had thought to do so. Then Adam wondered what sort of animal was even out at night and could have possibly bitten her?

  Then, he was at the door to her suite and he skidded to a stop, his hand hovering over the knob. Adam could still hear the footman walking precisely up the steps behind him and knew that if he didn't go in soon and lock the door behind him - lock all of the damnable doors actually - he was going to have an audience. Which he decidedly did not want.

  So before he could change his mind, Adam yanked the door open and slipped inside of her room, locking it firmly behind him. He caught a brief glimpse of Abigail, who was propped up on a mound of pillows in her bed, as he dashed about the room, making certain that every possible entrance was either locked or barred by a chair or other piece of furniture. If there was a hidden passageway he was unaware of? Well, he would deal with that when it opened.

  "Adam!" Abigail exclaimed, pushing back the bedcovers - which were annoying her anyway as she was not an invalid. She had merely been kidnapped and even then, for less than an hour. She was not so fragile as all of that. "What on Earth are you doing?"

  "Making certain we are not disturbed so that we can talk!" he snapped.

  She made a harrumphing sound of annoyance. She had been ordered about by men quite enough that evening, thank you very much. From her kidnapping to Dr. Hastings' insistence that she remain in bed - as if she was sick and not merely just been taken on a short coach ride - to Adam acting like a raving Bedlamite, she had endured quite enough.

  "We were alone in the coach and you didn't speak to me then. What is the rush now?" Honestly, Abigail had had about enough of this side of Adam Reynolds and it was time she let him know it.

  "That was different." Adam leaned back against the door, a pained expression on his face.

  Clad only in her nightrail, Abigail stalked across the floor towards him, likely not presenting the fearsome picture of a woman wronged that she had hoped to create. She was vaguely aware of a pounding on the door, probably Miss Cutwright who had been told that Adam was coming to see her and wished to be present to chaperone. The woman hadn't been functioning as a chaperone for the entire house party. Why start now? Especially when Abigail needed to be
alone with the man she loved to sort out this nonsense. Or knock some sense into him. Whichever was appropriate.

  "How so?" Abigail demanded when she reached Adam, poking a finger directly into his chest. The knocking was louder now. In fact, there were two sets of knocks. That would never do.

  "Go away!" she bellowed at the top of her lungs. "We are busy at present!" Her mother would have been appalled to hear her speak thus, but then, lessons learned at sea were difficult ones to let go of, she had learned.

  When the knocking ceased, Adam gave her an incredulous look. "How so? You were kidnapped, Abby! You could have been hurt! Or worse!"

  This time when she smacked him in the chest, there was more force behind her actions. "Yes, Adam, I was kidnapped! Taken on a carriage ride against my will. But that is all! Otherwise, I am quite well, which, if you would take a moment to actually listen to what I am saying, you would already know!"

  If a future with him was to succeed, then he needed to start listening to her. Otherwise, there would be no wedding. Especially since she was fairly certain her family would no longer be pushing to her wed Burleigh - or anyone else for that matter.

  "You could have died!" Adam roared as the pounding at the door started again. "Enough out there! We will come out when we are bloody good and ready!" This time the force of his words was enough to rattle the door in its frame. If he was creating a scandal then so be it. This was too important - Abigail was too important - to muck this up the way he usually did.

  "But I didn't die! I did not even break so much as a fingernail!" Abigail shouted back, now breathing heavily herself. "Dear God, Adam! What is wrong with you? I am whole and healthy and standing before you, yet you will not even look at me! He didn't touch me! He didn't kill me! He didn't even steal a kiss and for nothing you would punish me? Me? The woman you have hinted that you wish to take as your wife? Do I truly mean so little to you?"

  Abigail's words seemed to hit at some part of Adam that she had not been able to touch before, and he sank back against the door and closed his eyes, much of the fight draining out of him. "I could have lost you, Abby." His voice was a whisper now, his anger all but vanished. "Tonight, I could have lost you forever and I never told you. Not once. And you probably hate me for it. You should. You have every right to, you know. I'm a cad. A rogue. The worst sort of scoundrel there is. The others were right about me. I don't deserve a woman as perfect as you."

  He sounded utterly broken and Abigail's heart seized in her chest. This time when she reached out to him, she gently took his hand in hers and slowly guided him to the floor, afraid that he might topple over if she did not. "I don't understand, Adam. But I want to. Why do you think I would hate you?"

  "You said that you loved me." He looked as if he was about to be sick.

  "I do love you. That has not changed." As far as she was concerned, it never would.

  "But I never said it back." He sighed wearily. "I should have. I know that. But I couldn't. I convinced myself that what I felt wasn't love."

  Abigail moved closer to Adam, close enough to cup his face with her hands. "Is that what all this is about? Oh, Adam, I know that you love me. You don't have to say the words. I know that, for you, love isn't something you have much experience with."

  "I still should have said it." He shook his head sadly. "Before. When you said it to me."

  "Would you have meant it?" Abigail held his gaze firmly with hers, forcing him to be honest. "Then, I mean. Or did you realize that you truly loved me once I was gone?"

  Adam didn't know the answer to that question. Love wasn't something he was particularly good at. "I still should have said it. Once I knew for certain, that is." It was the best he could offer her. There was, it seemed, still a bit of the old rogue left inside of him after all. "Because I do mean it now. I love you, Abigail. More than my own life. I was terrified when I thought that I had lost you. It nearly ripped my heart out of my chest to think that I either might never see you again or that when I did, you might belong to another."

  Adam's confession was more than enough for Abigail and she reached for him, overjoyed when he finally pulled her tightly into his arms. "I love you, Adam Reynolds, my dastardly duke. And even if you never say it again, I'll still know. And I'll never stop loving you."

  This time when she lifted her lips to his for a kiss, Adam didn't hesitate, tunneling his hands through her hair and plundering her mouth as he had longed to do in the carriage. "So you do not hate me?"

  "I never could," she replied as she arched up, pressing into him. "I love you. And I want you. Now."

  "As the lady wishes. Whatever she wishes. Now and always." In one move, Adam had scooped Abigail into his arms and crossed the room to deposit her onto the bed. Thankfully at some point, the pounding on the door had stopped. Adam suspected that their host was likely the reason why, and he made a mental note to send Enwright another bottle of that French brandy he liked so well as a gift. Whatever the cost, it would be well worth it.

  For a moment, Abigail simply allowed herself to bask in the exquisite pleasure of Adam's love. He didn't need to say the words. She could feel them in every part of her body. Especially the parts that he was beginning to kiss hungrily. Oh, yes! Especially in those.

  Reaching up, she tugged at his cravat, deciding that if she was to get what she wished for, then she best get to it. Especially when what she wished for was a very naked Adam. "You have far too many clothes on, your grace. Especially as it is so beastly hot in here and someone has locked all of the doors and windows. I do so wish that you would remove them."

  Adam tugged away his neck cloth. "Better?"

  "Much." Abigail, on her feet now to better play this game, slid her hand down the hard length of his chest. "But still too much clothing, I fear. I prefer my dukes a bit more...roguish."

  His coat, waistcoat and evening shirt were the next things to go. "Will this suit you, my lady?" He seemed to be enjoying himself and Abigail was glad to see her Adam emerge once more. The other, darker side was a part of him. She knew that. But if he could keep that side of him in check? Then all would be well.

  Abigail tapped a finger on her chin as if deep in thought. "No, I do not believe so." She shook her head. "Actually, I think I would prefer to see more of you, if you don't mind." Then she smiled wickedly at him. "Unless, of course, you would prefer to see more of me first?"

  Adam swallowed hard. Dear God! This woman would surely be the death of him. But it would be a pleasurable way to go. "I would...prefer it. Certainly." He spoke as calmly as he could, not knowing what sort of game Abigail was playing at but he was more than enjoying following her lead.

  With a teasing look, she reached up and undid the nightrail's ribbon to reveal the hollow of her throat and a hint of her shoulder. Her evening gowns revealed far more of her creamy flesh than she had just now, but somehow, this seemed far more intimate. And more erotic. "Better?" she asked, repeating his earlier question.

  "Much." Unable to stop himself, Adam reached for her. "But I want more." He slowly peeled back the top of her nightrail, popping the buttons as he pulled the offending bit of cotton from her body. "I want all of you, Abigail. And I do not think I can wait much longer.

  All of the teasing had given him a raging erection and he could feel his cock throbbing in his trousers. He needed his release. But more than that, he needed Abigail. He needed to love her. So that she would know. Now.

  Then, she was naked before him and he fell to his knees, ready to worship her. Abigail, however, was having none of it. "Just as I need you, Adam." She waved a finger at him. "All of you."

  After that, he made short work of his own clothes, realizing that she was just as desperate as he. When he kissed her again after they were both naked, he could feel her trembling in his arms. He did not think it was out of desire, but rather out of fear. It was his duty to make certain that she knew that she was safe. And always would be.

  This time when Adam placed Abigail on the bed, he joined her, ro
lling her body into his so that he might begin to feast upon her breasts. With each tug at her already swollen nipples, Abigail gasped and moaned in fresh delight. If anyone was listening at the door now, they would know precisely what was occurring within the room, but Adam did not care. This woman was his and he was never going to be parted from her again.

  Abigail reveled in the sensations that Adam was causing to race through her body. That first night, she had been so nervous and uncertain, but now she knew what she wanted, her desires honed by the numerous other times they had made love in the last few days. Those times had been rushed, certainly, for they had feared discovery each time, but with each coupling, Abigail gained a greater understanding of her body. And what she liked. And what Adam liked as well.

  "Touch me," she whispered softly as she nipped at his earlobe. "Down there. Like you did before."

  "Liked that, do you?" he growled in response as he caressed his way down the length of her body.

  She trembled at the first stroke of his fingers over her sensitive feminine mound. "More than you can imagine."

  "Oh, I think I can imagine quite a bit," he replied as he trailed a line of kisses down over her stomach. "I also imagine you will like this." Then his mouth was on her, kissing her intimately. And Abigail cried out with such force that Adam was all but certain Enwright - or at the very least his wife - would be breaking down the door in short order.

  But after a long moment, no one arrived to yank him away from Abigail and so Adam continued with his intimate kisses, his tongue teasing her hidden pearl before swirling around to taste her deeply, plunging briefly inside her heated depths. Beneath him, Abigail squirmed and writhed, but she did not protest, clearly enjoying every sensation coursing through her body. She spread her legs wider, inviting him to take more if he wished, and he did so, his fingers dipping inside of her now while his tongue continued to lap at her most sensitive of areas.

  Awash in a sea of sensations, Abigail did not know which end was up. Nor did she care. All she wanted and needed was within her grasp. She reached out blindly for Adam, hoping to give him some pleasure as well, but he pushed her hands away. She would have been quite hurt except that he was making her feel so very wonderful in ways she had never dreamed of.