My Fair Viscount: (The Scandal Sheet Book 4)

by Michaels, Jess

  His eyes lit up and he smiled. “Rose,” he repeated, and said nothing more. Certainly didn’t recite bad poetry about the beauty of her name or make innuendos about wanting to pluck her. He really was not like anyone she’d ever known.

  “Is that all you wanted to know?” she asked. “Or is it my turn again?”

  “Ask away,” he grunted.

  “You said you saw your cousin as a mark when you first met him,” she said. “But that changed. I’ve watched you together and it’s clear you have some…affection for him. And he for you.”

  The teasing that had been in David’s eyes dissipated and a seriousness entered his face. A sadness. “Truth for truth, yes?”

  She nodded. “That was the agreement.”

  “He was decent,” he said softly. “He was truly decent. He wasn’t playin’ a game, he wasn’t runnin’ a con. He was just…decent.”

  “And that is rare in your life,” she whispered.

  He nodded. “I knew who my father was from the day I learned the word bastard.” His lips pressed together hard. “I didn’t know I was his true heir, but I knew I wasn’t wanted in his world. And Richard was…is…not like him.”

  “Hmmm,” she murmured. This softness to him was something to behold. If she could harness it, mold it, that would be as much a help to him as anything else.

  “Why aren’t you married, pumpin’ out some sod’s babies every few years?”

  She jolted and pushed to her feet, backing away from him a long step. “That is crude.”

  “Truth for truth,” he said, uncoiling from his seat and moving in her direction. “That was the agreement. Why?”

  “That’s enough for tonight,” she said, turning toward the dining room door.

  He caught her elbow. It wasn’t a cruel touch, nor even that hard. But it stopped her heart, stopped her breath, stopped everything in the room but him. He tugged, pivoting her back, pulling her even closer.

  He smelled good. Like leather and smoke, fresh leaves, something real and masculine. He was so very handsome, too. That little scar on his lip, those bright blue eyes—he was rough and tumble, and her body screamed things at her, dark longings that she would work to destroy in any of her charges.

  Wicked things she didn’t want to desire.

  “Why?” he repeated slowly.

  She blinked up at him, searching for purchase, grabbing for solid ground. And there was nothing except him. And the truth she had promised.

  “My family fell from grace when my father lost his shop thanks to bad debts,” she whispered. “He died and left my mother and me in a state that could not be undone. I had the same choices any other woman did. But not marriage. Not with that history. So I found a path. One I like, truth be told.”

  His jaw set. “And how do you get around the past when they seek it out? How do you cover up what he did so you look as proper as you do?”

  She blinked. “I…I…lie,” she admitted. “I lied once, to start my way. And now they are more interested in my references than in my childhood.”

  “Then you and I are not so different,” he said, his voice rough in the silence of the room. “You do it to protect her? Your mother?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I pay for her cottage. My life provides for hers.”

  “That I understand very well,” he said. His fingers slid up her arm, across her collarbone, up her neck. He glided them across her jawbone and tilted her face upward.

  She had to run. She knew it. It was the only way.

  And yet she didn’t. She stood just where she was, staring up as he dipped his head toward her.

  And then he kissed her. But that wasn’t enough of a word to describe it. She’d been kissed before. Once, long ago, before she realized that her future wouldn’t be marriage and children and love. This was far different than that experience.

  He devoured. He claimed. His lips, soft and full, covered hers, then his tongue traced the crease that kept the kiss somewhat chaste and broke a barrier that could never be undone. He drove inside when she opened, tasting her, savoring her as he hadn’t done with his supper. She lifted her hands to his chest, gripping her fists as the world stopped turning and she lost all control of the situation between them.

  In one moment, he made her his. Took that thing he’d claimed to want to steal, tucked it in his pocket, and she realized she would never get it back.

  That jolted her out of the fog of pleasure he created, and she staggered from his arms. He let her go, watching her through a hooded gaze that was unreadable.

  The clock ticked in the background, the only sound as they stared at each other. Then she turned on her heel and ran from the room, trying to ignore the fire in her body, the want that had risen up, and the fact that she had made a very bad mistake.

  Chapter 5

  David pursed his lips as he stared at the door to the study. He was waiting for Rose. Just as he had been waiting for her for two days since that kiss. That impossibly, improbably, fantastically glorious kiss that kept him up nights.

  And yet she had not come. She’d sent a note to him, detailing how he should study the books in the study that pertained to the history of his father’s shire. Otherwise, he had been left to his own devices. His own tangled thoughts.

  Never a happy place for him.

  Now he was restless. He pushed to his feet and paced to the fire, staring into the flames as he tried to stop caring about this entire ridiculous endeavor and the woman who had set him on his head without even trying.

  “Fuckin’ shite,” he muttered.

  “Good afternoon, my lord.”

  He froze and lifted his head to find Rose standing in the doorway. She was wearing her hair in a severe bun, her dress was drab and gray, her lips in a thin line. She was trying to make herself unattractive. It didn’t work. It just made him want to unwrap her.

  “Rose,” he said, moving forward. “I thought—”

  She lifted a hand. “I apologize for my absence these past two days. I have been…I’ve been thinking about what happened between us.”

  He folded his arms, putting up the same kind of shield she was attempting to do. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

  Her lips parted, and for a moment the mask she wore came crashing down. He saw her tangled emotions, her hesitations, her longing. They were powerful, intoxicating…terrifying.

  She bent her head and he saw her struggle continue. Then she lifted her gaze and held his evenly. “I…neither am I.”

  He staggered back a step at her admission, at the quiet yet firm way in which it was spoken. That he had never expected. “What?”

  She swallowed hard. “Please, might we walk in the garden? This is too personal a subject to talk about where there might be ears listening.”

  He nodded immediately and motioned her toward the door. She led the way, walking up the long halls until they exited onto the terrace via a parlor at the back of the house. She walked down a staircase and they entered the garden. As she pivoted to face him, he held out an arm. She stared at it. Stared at him.

  “This’s right, isn’t it?” he asked. “That deportment book you had delivered to my chamber two days ago said that a gentleman offers a lady his arm.”

  She nodded. “Yes.” Her tone was breathless. “Yes, it is correct. I just…touching you…oh, bother.”

  She slid her hand through the crook of his arm, her cheeks flaming as she did so. He was surprised by the jolt of awareness the action caused in him. The flare of desire that coiled up in his stomach, pulsing like a heartbeat.

  They moved deeper into the garden and he drew in a breath. “What’d you want to say to me?”

  She kept moving, her eyes straight ahead, though he felt her tremble at his side. That was why she wanted to walk. She didn’t want to have to look at him when she spoke to him. Interesting.

  “I-I have always been proper, my lord,” she said. “With one exception. I found it was the best way to fight the reputation my father created for
our family with his bad acts. If I behaved perfectly, then I could be seen as worthy despite him.”

  David arched a brow, but didn’t interrupt her. They had reacted in the opposite way, it seemed. He had embraced the darkness, the wildness, almost as a way to shame his noble father. She had tried for perfection to erase her own.

  “My behavior has rewarded me in many ways, of course,” she continued. “With a position, a little money, some independence. And yet…yet…”

  She trailed off and came to a stop in the middle of the hedge maze, beside the ridiculous fountain that trickled in the background. She stared up at him, almost helpless, like she needed him to ease the way.

  “Yet?” he encouraged softly.

  Her breath caught on a sob. “When…when you kissed me, I…all I neglected, all I’ve never allowed, became so very clear. And I…I have been able to think of nothing else since.”

  Rose could scarcely breathe as the words that had been crowding in her head for days at last were freed. Since this man kissed her, her life had been turned upside down. She had thought of nothing else, tortured herself about it, about him. And yet she kept coming back, over and over, to the fact that this desire felt…right.

  It was very confusing for her, since she was tasked with teaching others that those feelings were wrong.

  She watched, blushing as David pulled away from her, running a hand through thick, dark locks. Well, she had shocked him—that was something. She doubted it happened often. Of course, it was very disconcerting to have this man, of all men, just…staring at her.

  She shifted. “I had to say something because I’m supposed to teach you propriety and what you made me feel the other night was not proper. Not even slightly proper.”

  The corner of his lip quirked a little and relief flooded her. At least she hadn’t gone too far.

  He stepped toward her again, his warmth curling around her in the brisk spring air. “Did you like it?” he asked, his tone low and rough.

  “The kiss?” she asked. He nodded. “Yes. I…yes, I liked it.”

  “So did I. Very much. Too much.”

  Yes, that was the right way to describe it. Too much. All of it was too much. And yet she couldn’t stop leaning into him. Like a moth to a flame.

  “In most cases, I know exactly what is the right thing to do,” she said, clutching her hand into a fist at her side so she wouldn’t reach out and press it to the broad chest that was now so close to her. “And I suppose I know what I would tell my girls to do in this instance.”

  His smile widened, wicked. Tempting. “And what is that?”

  Now she couldn’t find her breath. God’s teeth, why did the man have to be so handsome? “I would…I would advise a lady to avoid such a connection before marriage. That she could threaten her entire future if she dared to surrender to a moment of such…passion.”

  “Hmmm,” he drawled as he stepped even closer. Now they were practically touching, and she licked her lips out of pure instinct. “And what do you want, Rose? To avoid passion or to give in to it?”

  She felt the heat in her cheeks, knew she was blushing like a girl under his regard. “My reputation is as delicate as any of theirs would be,” she whispered. “If I were revealed, I could lose everything I built.”

  His smile faded a fraction, as if the seriousness of the consequences actually meant something to him. “And yet we’re isolated together on this estate for two more weeks. The servants are well paid for utter silence. Doesn’t it mean that no one would need to know about what the two of us teach each other?”

  “Teach?” she repeated, staring up into his face, shivering as he reached out and just brushed his fingers against her own, tangling them as she knew their legs and bodies would tangle if she let herself be seduced.

  “You teach me all the things my cousin and Society require,” he said. “And I teach you about that passion you would warn your students off of. All that passion I felt pulsing beneath the surface when I kissed you.”

  Her body shook as he slid his hand up her arm, over her shoulder, glided his fingers to cup her neck. She tilted her face up. He was going to kiss her. If she let him, that would be the first step down a path. At the end of that path could be ruin. She had felt it before, that horrible sense that she’d destroyed her own life. She’d worked hard to rebuild.

  After this man, she might not be able to do that.

  His lips were a feather’s breath away from her own and she ached in the most wonderous way. But she forced herself to turn her face.

  “I’m—I’m uncertain,” she admitted.

  He immediately released her and stepped away. When she dared to look at him, he looked detached, as if what was about to happen meant little to him. He shrugged as if to multiply that feeling and said, “Then think on it.”

  She swallowed. Did he not truly care about this chemistry between them? Was it so commonplace to him that he could just not feel it if he didn’t want to? There was a twinge of regret in her chest that she forced away.

  “I’ve read all those awful books you had for me,” he said, leaning over to smell one of the early blooms that polka-dotted the green of the garden. “So what is your next lesson?”

  She swallowed past the lump that was now in her throat and refocused. She had to get her mind together before she made a mistake based on passion. She well knew how destructive that could be. She refused to destroy everything.

  “Er, well, I thought perhaps we could work on the cadence of your speech, my lord. Soften your accent a bit.”

  He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, but she couldn’t tell if his obvious annoyance was because of her rejection or because he didn’t want to do what she suggested.

  Either way, it didn’t matter. She was here for one thing. It wasn’t the kisses or touches of her charge. And she would do well to remember that.

  Chapter 6

  David looked up from the book before him and stretched his neck with a groan. It felt like he’d been memorizing the pages of Debrett’s for days, though it was only hours. God, but the Society fops were dedicated to their lineages.

  How he would ever fit himself in was a mystery, no matter how much he softened his accent or learned the niceties of Society. Not that he didn’t have a good teacher.

  He glanced across the room at Rose. She was sitting on a settee, her own book in her hand. She froze and lifted her gaze, as if she sensed his attention on her. Then she blushed and desire swelled in his chest, just as it had been during the past two days since she’d admitted she wanted him.

  She had never mentioned it again, nor responded to his offer to trade teaching pleasure for propriety. And yet when he looked at her a certain way, she always blushed. So she could pretend she had forgotten what she’d said, what they’d done, but he knew the truth. And he found himself wanting her more with every passing hour.

  She stood up swiftly and set her book aside. “Come,” she said suddenly.

  He got to his feet before he even realized he’d done it, and a shot of need flowed through him. This petite woman could make him do what she wanted with just the crook of her finger. Funny that he had so dreaded interacting with her at the start. Now he wanted more of her.

  She led him down the hall and together they entered a large room through double doors. He caught his breath.

  “The ballroom?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes. How much do you know about dancing?”

  He arched a brow at her and then caught her waist, dragging her flush against him just as he’d wanted to do for days. She shuddered, then gasped as he glided a hand down her spine, settling in on the top of the round curve of her ass. He ground her against him ever so slightly, watching as her gaze went foggy with desire. Then he spun them around and around until she laughed and clutched his forearms with a squeal.

  Finally, he spun her away from him gently. She smoothed her dress and her cheeks were bright red as she said, “Well, you do have some grace, though I’m cert
ain doing that in the middle of a ballroom would have tongues wagging.”

  He shrugged. “Dancin’ in the hells is different from in the ton.”

  “Quite,” she said, smiling at him. “Do you know how to waltz?”

  He couldn’t help but pull a face in her direction to show his displeasure, and her laughter filled the air in response. “Does that mean you don’t know how or just that you hate it?”

  “Both,” he grunted. “When I was younger, me mum made me waltz with her when she was drunk and lamentin’ her choices. So I know how…a little…though I suppose most ladies won’t be sauced and half fallin’ over.”

  Rose’s smile fell, her expression replaced with a flash of pity that he hated. This was why one did not share personal things with others, he supposed. And yet he kept doing just that with this woman, long after their arrangement to trade histories had finished.

  “I’m sorry that was your introduction to the dance,” she said. “Perhaps we can make some of those memories a little happier now.” She held her hand out again. “My lord.”

  “My lady,” he said, ignoring the reaction she caused in him that had nothing to do with desire and taking the hand she offered. Carefully she positioned them, his hand on her waist, hers on his shoulder, their free hands clasped together out to the side.

  “There is no music,” she said. “But we can still count the steps out to find the rhythm. One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three…”

  They began to turn together, slowly, as she counted out the beat they would follow. And within a few pivots, David knew what he was to do. He gripped her waist a bit tighter, drawing her closer as her counting faded and she simply stared up at him.

  They spun around and around, bodies brushing in the most tantalizing way as they maneuvered around the big room in time. He brushed his fingers across her waist and she shivered, her eyes coming shut. God, but she was responsive, no matter how she tried to hide her innate sensuality beneath severe clothing and hair.

  There was something else she couldn’t hide, either. Something that became very clear as they moved.