Ready Set Rogue

by Manda Collins

  Unable to stop herself, and driven by curiosity and a need to feel more of him, she slipped her hands between them and set to work at the buttons of his breeches. Quill hissed at the touch, and put a staying hand against hers. “I am trying like the devil to be gentle with you, Ivy,” he said through gritted teeth. “If you don’t release me, I can’t be answerable for the consequences.”

  “But I want to feel you,” she said, punctuating her words with a lift of her hips. She’d certainly read enough erotic classical poetry to know how the mechanics worked, but she also knew that she wanted to give him as much pleasure as he seemed intent on giving her. “And I want you to feel as good as I do.”

  He closed his eyes as she brushed his hand away and continued to unbutton his falls. She smiled in triumph at his surrender, and when his body sprang forth, she stroked a hand from root to tip, eliciting a groan of relief from him. And almost before she knew what he was doing, she found herself pressed back against the cot with her hands clasped above her head, imprisoned by one of his.

  When she made to protest, he stifled her with his mouth. “You are undoubtedly one of the most brilliant ladies I’ve ever met,” he said to her with a chiding look, “but I have more knowledge in this particular area. So let me lead.”

  She was robbed of the ability to respond by the feel of his eager body, hard and ready against the bare skin of her thigh. Suddenly she felt her chest flood with emotion as she looked up into his all too serious gaze. Kissing her softly, he said, “I’ll take care of you, Ivy. I promise.” It was a gentle kiss, and she trusted him despite the butterflies of nerves fluttering in her stomach. And as if they’d never paused, she felt the passion between them rise again as Quill’s clever fingers stroked over her and, as she silently begged for more, thrust into her. First one, then another, which he rhythmically moved within her. The sound of their breathing rang in her ears as she shifted her hips faster and faster to meet his thrusting fingers.

  She was nearing some peak she’d never scaled before when he suddenly pulled his hand away. “Come back,” she ordered in a desperate voice she barely recognized as her own. “Oh, please Quill, come back.”

  And before she could even finish her protest, he replaced his fingers with the hot hardness of his body. And she sighed with relief as she urged him forward silently with a tiny thrust of her hips.

  “Be still, Ivy,” he said in a strained voice as he let go of her imprisoned hands and used his own to hold himself over her. “I’m trying to do this slowly. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Which was utterly noble, she knew, but her body wanted him now. “I don’t mind pain,” she hissed. “I just want you. Now.”

  And she used her heels and hands to pull him into her, gaining another delicious inch that stretched her beyond what was comfortable. Even so, she wanted more, and with another strong pull against him, she felt Quill surrender and with one swift thrust he was fully seated within her.

  * * *

  Ivy gasped as he moved over her.

  Quill touched his forehead to hers, and asked in a strained voice, “Is it too much?” If she said yes, he was prepared to withdraw, but it was hard to imagine doing so when he was clasped in the hot, tightness of her sweet body. Still, he had no wish to give her pain, and the last thing he wanted was to give her a fear of coupling. Because he damned well intended to do this with her again. And again.

  “No,” she said with a little shake of her head. “No. Just … different.”

  Offering up a silent prayer of thanksgiving, he pulled back slowly then just as slowly pressed in again. This time her gasp was one of pure pleasure, and he let himself go a little, moving against her in a rhythm that pleased them both if the clench of her body around his was any indication. Soon they were both too consumed by the slick slide of their bodies against each other to speak. Dipping his head down to kiss her as he thrust, he growled out a groan as he felt her hands slide up into his hair, pulling his face closer as he moved against her. But she pulled her face away when he reached down to touch her just above where their bodies joined, and he felt some part of her uncoil with abandon as her body gripped him where he moved inside her.

  “Oh Quill,” she gasped as he gritted his teeth against the feel of his own completion nearing. “I. Oh. That’s…”

  Closing his eyes in relief, he felt her quicken her hips and in turn the pulsing grip of her around his cock as she gave herself over to her orgasm. And like a stallion let off its lead, only now did he give himself permission to let himself go, unable to hold back his need any longer. He pressed into her soft body with a desperation he’d not allowed himself to feel in decades, if ever. It was as if Ivy with her eager kisses and open sensuality had bewitched him into revealing some part of himself he’d long kept hidden from view. And the result was a mad hunger that made him grind into her without any thought for finesse or chivalry, but instead unleashing a raw need that had him pounding into her with abandon until finally, joyfully, he felt that telltale tingle in his spine before he gripped her buttocks and with a harsh cry went over the edge with her.

  When he came back to himself, Quill realized he’d collapsed on top of her like a selfish oaf, and with a muttered apology he turned over onto his back, a barely successful maneuver given how narrow the cot was.

  With the return of awareness, also came a sense of the gravity of what he’d just done. Not only had he compromised Ivy beyond repair, he’d done so after not even a full twenty-four hours of knowing her. That must be some sort of record. At least it was in his family, where as far back as he could recall betrothals had all been conducted with the attendant pomp and circumstance that accompanied marriages made within the elite circles of the beau monde.

  Beside him, Ivy lay silent, and he wondered if she was regretting the rashness of their actions. If he were assessing her likely reaction to being compromised into marriage by a marquess when he’d first learned her identity yesterday, he would have assumed she’d be tickled pink. The woman he’d assumed had come to Beauchamp House with no other goal than to steal his family’s inheritance out from under them would have been smiling like the cat who licked the cream as she lay beside him. But it had only taken a few more minutes’ conversation with Miss Aphrodite Wareham to know that she cared only about the inheritance insofar as it would allow her to continue her studies. And even that she’d set aside today in favor of investigating the circumstances behind his aunt’s death. A woman who thought only of her own well-being would have ignored the letter from Celeste and stayed behind in the library with her fellow scholars.

  “It’s stopped raining,” she said from beside him, though she made no move to rise. “We should be getting back to Beauchamp House if we don’t want them to send out a search party. I daresay the fact that we’re so late will be scandal enough. Especially given the fact that I neglected to bring a maid along.”

  “The proprieties are a bit more relaxed in the country than they are in town,” Quill responded curtly, the consequences of their missing lunch the least of his worries. In one fluid motion, he sat up and stood, turning his back to her as he refastened his breeches and bent to retrieve his cravat, shirt, and waistcoat from where he’d tossed them onto the floor. Folding his own garments over his arm, he picked up Ivy’s gown and handed it wordlessly to her, not daring to meet her eye lest he see the censure he deserved in them.

  He’d done a number of foolish things in his life, but this might be the worst of them. Because he knew without asking her that Ivy would not marry him without protest. And yet marriage was the only way in which he could honorably repair the damage this interlude sheltering from the storm had caused.

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said, scrambling off the cot and taking her gown from him. From within her gown, which she had pulled on over her head, she continued, “But I don’t wish to upset your cousin. She seems like such a conscientious lady, and she will see this as some dereliction on her part, I fear.”

  Chapter 1
5

  Tying his cravat in as tidy a fashion as he could imagine without a mirror, he said wryly, “I think she will be less bothered by your absence from luncheon than by the fact that I spent the time waiting out the storm taking your virginity, Ivy.”

  Blushing, she thrust her arms into the sleeves of her gown, and turned to offer him her back. Having finished pulling on his own clothes, he stepped behind her and began doing up the tiny buttons, steeling himself not to touch the soft, pale skin above her chemise, which he’d only minutes before caressed with his bare hand.

  “We need not tell anyone about that,” Ivy said in a hopeful tone.

  Did she honestly think he could forget what they’d just done? If so she was sorely mistaken. And not just because it had been the single most intoxicating experience of his adult life.

  “There is every need,” Quill said, his self-recrimination making him short. “Or rather, we needn’t tell everyone the reason why. But when we return to the house we will announce that we have decided to marry. I will leave this afternoon for Oxford so that I can inform your father, and I have a friend with an uncle who is a bishop from whom I can get a special license. It will not take me above a couple of days. And I’ll send a note to my secretary and have him send a notice to the papers. We can be married within the week if things are arranged properly.”

  He’d just finished the last button at this point, and when Ivy turned there was fire in her eyes. And not from passion.

  “Were you going to consult me about this, or just issue a set of orders to me along with the rest of your minions?” she asked, her cheeks and neck flushed red with anger. Before he could respond, she continued, “I am not one of your meek society ladies who will take direction from you without so much as a by-your-leave. Has it occurred to you that I might not even believe in the institution of marriage? Or that perhaps my decision to give myself to you had nothing to do with anyone but us?”

  While Quill understood her anger—he hadn’t started the day with a desire to get married in a week’s time either—he disagreed with the rationale behind it. “I would not have thought a lady with as much scholarly knowledge would be so naive about the way the world works. You and I might wish to keep this slipup between the two of us, but these things have a way of getting out. Certainly there could be rumors in the servants’ quarters about us. I daresay they began as soon as the table was laid for luncheon and we still had not returned. Have you considered what it might do to your reputation to be dogged with such whispers? What having that kind of reputation might do to your ability to move freely in scholarly circles?”

  At the mention of her scholarly reputation, Ivy’s eyes widened, and despite feeling petty for it, Quill felt a stab of triumph. Perhaps he should have begun with the threat to her scholarly reputation rather than her societal one. After all, from everything he’d seen about her, she cared far more for her ability to do her work than she did about moving in society. He suspected some of that had to do with her father’s estrangement from his family. It certainly wouldn’t endear him to the ton if he’d been raised by someone who’d been purposely kept out of it.

  Her jaw tight, Ivy gave a small nod. “You may be correct about scholarly circles. It is difficult enough as a woman to gain recognition for one’s work. I can only imagine how much more difficult it would be to do so with a reputation for libertine behavior. It’s all well and good if one is married.” She gave a moue of distaste. “But as an unmarried lady I have already seen how narrow-minded male scholars can be when it comes to accepting my work without ascribing silly female illogic and foolishness to it. I’m damned for innocence when it comes to certain lyric poetry because I am unmarried, but I can guess that I’d be damned for being too knowing if I were to lose my good name.”

  Despite his relief that she was beginning to see reason, Quill was not so foolish as to let his triumph show on his face. Besides, were not ladies known for changing their minds? Aloud he said, “So, you agree that our marrying is the sensible course of action? I do think that you might be able to get a bit further in your quest for recognition as the Marchioness of Kerr than as Miss Wareham, if it’s any consolation.”

  But her mouth was still tight with disapproval. “I can see the rationality behind your arguments, my lord. Indeed, I even agree with some of them, but I cannot think it will do either of us good to leap into a hasty marriage. Not only does it seem precipitate, but we are both overlooking the fact that there may be no gossip after today’s excursion. It would be a shame to make such an important decision based on fears that might be unfounded.”

  He could see her point, but by this point Quill was already decided. It was just a matter of persuading Ivy. And if his own pleas fell on deaf ears, he had little doubt that her father would see things his way. He could not imagine that a man who had suffered banishment from the society he’d been born into would allow something similar to happen to his daughter.

  Still, he had one more arrow in his quiver, and he had no qualms about using it. “Have you considered that you might already be with child?” he asked, not happy about the fact that he was the one who had put the flash of alarm in her emerald eyes, but knowing it was entirely necessary. “This is about more than the two of us, Ivy. I certainly will not countenance having a child born out of wedlock—or waiting until it becomes apparent that it’s the only reason for our marriage.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted. “I hope you don’t think I am so selfish that I would choose my own freedom at the expense of my child. Though in fairness, we do not even know yet if there is a child.”

  “But we must behave as if we know there is, Ivy,” he said quietly. “We can avoid scandal, but only if we do the sensible thing and marry.”

  Seeing that she still didn’t seem appeased, Quill stepped closer and took her hands in his. “I know things are moving quickly,” he said, wishing he could kiss away her doubts. “But that doesn’t mean we need to fight each other. And you need not think that I will be a demanding husband. I know already how much a part of you your studies are. And I would do nothing to take that away from you. I give you my word.”

  If he thought she would simply capitulate in the face of his gentle persuasion, however, he was quite mistaken.

  Not backing down, she said, “May I have a day or two to think things over?” There was a plea for understanding in her gaze, which despite the urgency he felt about settling things between them, he could not deny.

  “Of course,” he agreed, with more ease than he felt. He was grateful that she was willing to consider his proposal at all, but he couldn’t help a pang of impatience at her resistance. Even so, he was well aware that she was quite capable of digging in her heels and telling him to go to the devil if she chose. So he told himself to be patient and give her the time she needed. No matter how much his inner brute wished to override her objections and bend her to his will.

  “Thank you,” she said, her obvious relief stinging his conscience at his boorish thoughts. However he might chafe at her resistance, it was genuine and she deserved to be given some latitude in the matter.

  “Now,” she continued with a sheepish smile, “before we are discovered alone here, I suggest we start back for Beauchamp House. Otherwise there will be no question of which action we take. Your cousin will see to it that we’re wed whether we agree to it or not.”

  Suddenly, he was reluctant to leave the little cottage that had served as a refuge from the rest of the world for a few short hours.

  But, she was correct that they needed to get back, and the sooner the better.

  With one last look over his shoulder into the little house, Quill shut the door behind them and followed Ivy toward the path back to Beauchamp House.

  * * *

  Far from the quiet return Ivy had hoped for, as soon as she and Quill stepped inside of Beauchamp House they were greeted as if they’d disappeared on an Egyptian expedition rather than simply disappeared for a few hours in a rains
torm.

  “Oh, dear,” said Sophia, giving Ivy an impulsive hug. “You look as if you could use a cup of tea and a hot bath. As soon as we saw the clouds threatening we began to worry, but I thought you would at least remain in the village until it passed.” She shot a baleful glance in Quill’s direction, but to Ivy’s relief, he didn’t betray a hint of guilty conscience. She supposed if she were going to choose a man to ruin herself over, she’d done well to pick one who would fall on his sword before he betrayed her to anyone.

  Well, anyone who wasn’t her father, she amended, recalling their earlier argument. Just the thought of her father hearing about this afternoon’s events made her stomach flip in anxiety. She was brave enough when it came to forging her own path as a scholar, but as the eldest daughter she’d come to appreciate her father’s guidance when it came to her scholarship. And she’d prided herself on not behaving like the sort of ninny she’d always thought could get herself into a situation like the one she now found herself in. The idea of disappointing her father was far worse than any fears she had about society’s response to her transgressions.

  “I’ll tell Mrs. Bacon to have hot water brought up to both of your rooms,” said Lady Serena with a cryptic glance at Quill. “I’ll have some soup and sandwiches sent up as well. I daresay you’re both starving after missing luncheon.”

  “That would be most appreciated, cousin,” Quill said with a short bow. He turned to Ivy as if he wanted to say something to her, but perhaps thinking better of it, only gave her a nod and hurried up the stairs. Ivy wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

  “I’ll go up too,” she said after a pregnant pause in which she felt as if all four ladies were staring at her.