To Tempt A Rogue

by Adrienne Basso

  To have her spread beneath him, spent, sated, exhausted. And smiling.

  The woman who appeared at his dinner table this evening was not the same rain-soaked creature who had arrived last night, nor the prim and strait-laced female who had sparred with him over breakfast. And it was far more than the sophisticated coiffure and the fashionable gown that had transformed her.

  It was her flirtatious and sultry attitude, her suggestive remarks and that come-hither playfulness that kept him off balance. Her satiny skin glowed pale and fine in the candlelight, her soft luscious lips were ripe for tasting and despite his best efforts Nathaniel was unwillingly captivated by her sensuous, hypnotic stare.

  He doubted she had any real sexual experience with men, for there was an air of purity about her that no amount of passionate stares could disguise. On the other hand, she was far beyond the age of a virginal debutante and she had been engaged for several years to a rogue, a man well-known for his prowess with women. Perhaps some of that untapped wantonness had been set free.

  A bloody dangerous thought, indeed.

  Outside the rain began again, pelting the windows with its fury. Lord Avery knew the governess had left word with her coachman to be ready to depart at first light. He was pleased when he initially heard the news, but now he found himself hoping this dreadful weather would keep her at the castle. For another day. And another night.

  “Creamed peas, Mr. Wainwright?”

  Startled from his musing, Nathaniel looked up. Miss Sainthill held out a bowl filled with the vegetables floating in a thick sauce. She must have taken the dish from one of the servants, for there was no one near the table.

  “Would you care for some?” she said softly, glancing at him from beneath half-lowered lashes.

  Lord Avery was impressed. He had never heard such a suggestive innuendo placed on so mundane a question. This must have been how Adam felt, when Eve procured an apple and offered him a bite.

  “Thank you, no,” he replied pleasantly. “I do not like peas in any form. Probably because my governess always forced me to eat them as a child.”

  “But peas are good for you,” she scolded, with a slight laugh.

  Nathaniel lifted his eyebrows. “My dear Miss Sainthill, upon reaching adulthood I have long gravitated toward those things that are clearly not good for me.”

  A smile curved her lips. “How delicious.” Nathaniel nearly choked on the small piece of beef he was chewing. When she gazed at him like that he had to struggle for control. Somehow, and he was totally unsure when this had occurred, their roles had become reversed. Miraculously it was now she who pursued him. But why the sudden change of heart?

  A cold chill ran through him. Had she discovered the truth? Did she know his real identity, was she aware of the reason for his exile here in the wilds of Scotland?

  Pensively, Lord Avery made a great pretense of cutting another piece of beef. He was just being fanciful. Miss Sainthill had proven herself to be a forthright woman. If she suspected something was amiss, she would have confronted him immediately.

  Unless she was waiting for the right moment? Perhaps that was the reason for this sudden change in her manner and appearance? Nathaniel’s stomach clenched as a rush of wary mistrust overtook him.

  “This morning you were ready to box my ears over a mild flirtation, Miss Sainthill. Yet tonight you seem to have undergone a complete transformation,” he said. “Can you explain this rather sudden change?”

  “I do not know what you mean,” she replied calmly. Her face betrayed nothing, though a hint of something that might have been guilt flickered in her eyes.

  “Your gown, your smiles, your sultry glances. I am a grown man, yet never in all of my thirty-three years has any female directed an inquiry to me concerning creamed peas in such a naughty murmur.”

  She laughed softly. “I did not realize you have led such a sheltered life, Mr. Wainwright.”

  “Far from it.”

  “Good.” She smiled again, presenting a picture of brash confidence. “This morning you told me I was charming. Perhaps I now believe you were being sincere.”

  “Try again.”

  She regarded him with simmering amusement, never flinching from his hard stare. In fact, he could see his own reflection in the depths of her eyes. But then her expression grew thoughtful, almost serious.

  “Do you have any idea what it is like to live your life according to the expectations of others?” she asked. “To always be the sensible one, the practical one, the boring, responsible one?”

  “I have an inkling.”

  “Well, sir, I have had a lifetime.” She drew in a breath. “I was the eldest sister in a motherless household. At a far too early age the servants looked to me for guidance and direction, since my father had little interest in the condition of his home or the antics of his children.

  “He doted on his first-born son and heir and pointedly ignored the rest of us. My brother, Griffin, the second son, left England the moment he reached maturity, but I was female and thus denied the chance to shape my own fate.”

  “What would you have done, given the opportunity?”

  “I don’t know.” Her fingers closed over the stem of her wineglass. “Perhaps I would have gone to sea, like my brother, or maybe bought a commission in the army. Or I could have taken an extended grand tour, traveling the continent and studying art.”

  “You have artistic aspirations?”

  “Not really.” She straightened her spine and lifted her chin. Nathaniel was fascinated by the way she controlled the emotion in her voice. “From what I have seen and heard, artistic talent is not a prerequisite for those men who live such a life.”

  Lord Avery thought back to the wild nights of drinking, carousing, and women he enjoyed during his European grand tour and conceded she had a point. He stared at her profile as she took a small sip of her wine and realized he had been completely wrong about Miss Sainthill.

  Her reputation as a stickler for all things proper and correct was not born out of a righteous sense of superiority but a result of her childhood. It had shaped the woman she became, yet had not completely destroyed her spirit of curiosity and adventure. Perhaps even the selection of a fiancé who was wild and reckless was her way of trying to cheat the role that destiny had chosen for her.

  “So that is what tonight is all about? An opportunity to be spontaneous instead of measured?”

  “Partly.” She lifted her wineglass, but did not take another sip. “I will admit that I would like to know how it feels to throw off the restraints that bind me. I have thought about it often, yet never dared act upon it.” She laughed, giving him a look of soft reproach. “I think you are a bad influence on me, Mr. Wainwright.”

  “I find that impossible to believe. You hardly strike me as a person whose opinion is easily swayed or influenced.” He waited until the servants had cleared away their dishes before speaking. “Perhaps my company has merely encouraged you to be more open and honest about your true feelings. ’Tis a somewhat humbling revelation, is it not, to discover that deep down we are all human, possessing the same needs, the same desires?”

  She tried to hide her widening smile, but failed. “Ah, so it is only society’s morals and standards that prevent the inappropriate sparks between men and women from flaring into flames?”

  “One cannot deny that it is society which deems these natural inclinations inappropriate.” Nathaniel dipped his spoon into his trifle dessert. “Yet these artificial rules cannot always stem the tide of human behavior.”

  “Or control a clever, determined man who is willing to rationalize his actions when it suits his purpose.”

  “Trust me, Miss Sainthill, true passion is an emotion that lacks any rational thought.” Nathaniel grimaced slightly, surprised at the strong burst of lust that pulsed through him. How odd to find this banter so stimulating. Had he been so long without the company of a woman that mere conversation could get his blood up? “Have you no faith in your
gender? Are women so easily duped into shameless behavior by a handsome face and a clever tongue?”

  “Are they, Mr. Wainwright?” She lowered her lashes provocatively. “I suspect you are more qualified to answer that question.”

  He shook his head with a smirk. “I know enough not to speak of other women when in the company of a lady.”

  She shifted, and her knee brushed against his thigh. Although their clothing offered a proper barrier, his body reacted with typical male fervor. He could sense a prickle of sensation moving across her skin. Knowing she too felt this vibrant attraction brought a groan of frustration charging to the surface, but Nathaniel swallowed it back.

  “Though men may claim to have the more difficult role, women often find themselves on tenuous ground when establishing a relationship,” she continued. “It takes hard work to walk that narrow line to avoid a fall from grace. Fortunately we have a great advantage over men.”

  “You are trained to be ladies?”

  “No, we possess in abundance what men lack.” She paused. “Common sense.”

  Nathaniel laughed and after a moment Miss Sainthill joined him. A delectable dimple creased one cheek and he had a mad impulse to lean forward and place his lips upon it. Sitting so close he could smell the lavender scent on her skin. It encircled him like an enticing cloud, stimulating his senses.

  The sound of silverware clinking on china drew Lord Avery’s attention. The intimate nature of their conversation had created an illusion of privacy, but they were not alone. There were servants present. Servants with perfectly good hearing who were already very curious about him.

  Nathaniel glanced down at his plate, surprised to find it nearly empty. Trifle was his favorite dessert, yet he could barely recall tasting a spoonful of it.

  “Would you care to adjourn to the library?” he asked. “I instructed Mrs. Mullins to have a fire lit so the room would be comfortable.”

  He failed to mention there was a cozy sofa in the library, perfectly designed for a couple to share. Sequestered inside, seated side by side with their arms and thighs pressed together, they could continue this discussion at their leisure.

  He waited, holding his breath like a green lad, hoping she would agree to at least enter his lair. But his hopes were dashed when she rose to her feet and shook her head. “I believe it would be best if I retire to my chamber.”

  Before he could stop himself, Lord Avery found himself asking, “May I escort you?”

  He could tell the question startled her. Her eyes widened with surprise and the muscles around her lips tightened as she considered the request. “You may walk me to my room if you answer one question.”

  He nodded.

  “Do you truly have three wards who are in need of a governess?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then where are they? Why are they not here, living with you?”

  Nathaniel’s gut clenched. He was so tempted to tell her. Not the complete truth, of course. But a modified version of it. Yet he knew the risk was too great.

  “That makes three questions, Miss Sainthill,” he said gently.

  He fully expected her to stare reproachfully at him, pivot on her heel and stalk away. Instead she gave a small shrug of acceptance and gracefully extended her arm. Nathaniel reached out boldly and took her hand, lacing his fingers in hers.

  Though dressed formally, she had not worn gloves to dinner. The feel of her warm flesh pressed against his hand shot a bolt of desire straight to his groin. He could not tell if she was experiencing similar feelings, though there was a slight blush of color in her cheeks.

  They strolled the halls in companionable silence. It was better not to speak, Nathaniel decided, for his tongue felt paralyzed by the promise of what might happen when they reached her door. A kiss, for a certainty, and more than one.

  Beyond that—who knew?

  Normally he was a patient man. But these were hardly normal circumstances. The lack of time to woo her had somehow caused his desire to heighten to unrealistic proportions. Younger, prettier, more agreeable women had not been able to so capture his attention or stimulate his desire. For reasons he could not entirely explain, this woman tickled his fancy more than any other.

  “I cannot help but marvel at the size of this castle. And though I have walked these halls several times, I’ve yet to encounter a soul,” Miss Sainthill commented as they neared her door. “Where do all the servants hide?”

  “As far away from Mrs. Mullins as they can,” Lord Avery replied in a mocking tone.

  The sparkle of laughter in her eyes drove him to action. Taking advantage of her good humor, Nathaniel stopped abruptly, turning her until her back was against the wall. She inhaled sharply, but made no move to escape his embrace. Encouraged, he moved closer.

  When Mr. Wainwright took her chin in his hand and tilted her head slightly, Harriet’s breathing came fast. But when he bent his head and placed his mouth on her lips, the dim, gloomy hallway was suddenly whirling with color.

  He brought his mouth down softly at first. A taste, a tease, a nibble. Harriet was surprised by this gentle exploration that made her senses swim. Lust always held a titillating, secret interest in her mind, yet she had never completely experienced it.

  Until now. And it was impossible to resist the raw longing and emotions this magical kiss brought forth. She responded in a wholly inappropriate manner by clutching his lapels and pulling him closer. He deepened the kiss, coaxing her mouth open. His tongue thrust at hers and she answered with her own, amazed at the depths of feeling and passion he could arouse.

  Her blood pulsed rapidly through her veins. Her breasts tingled and she pressed her thighs together, trying to ease the sudden ache. As she allowed herself to be cradled in his strong arms, Harriet gave herself over completely to the experience of giving and receiving pleasure.

  She could feel his muscled hardness and body heat, could smell his musky cologne, could hear his harsh breathing, could taste his passion. It felt so good, she admitted with a sigh. In an uncontrolled, unfamiliar way.

  Their hips rocked together. He kissed her temple, her cheek, her jaw. He bit her earlobe, then sucked it gently between his teeth. Harriet tipped her head, allowing him easier access and he kissed her neck, nuzzling it softly.

  Then he went very still. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. His chest heaved against her breasts, rubbing them, creating an unbearable, restless friction.

  “Where is your famous female common sense now, Miss Sainthill?” he whispered raggedly.

  His words brought her sharply back to her senses. There was certainly madness connected to this wild reckless behavior, but she could no longer allow herself to indulge. Reluctantly, Harriet pulled herself out of his arms. “ ’Twas gone for a fleeting instant, but thankfully it has returned.”

  “Thankfully?” His voice turned husky. “Shall I chase it away and rekindle our passion? I promise the bliss we will achieve, the delights we will share, the fulfillment we will reach shall make it well worthwhile.”

  He reached for her again, but she stepped away. Though this attraction held her in its dizzying power, Harriet knew her head must rule her actions. “Good bye, Mr. Wainwright.” She let out an audible sigh. “I suspect it will come as no surprise to you that I have decided to terminate my very brief employment. My servants and I will be leaving in the morning.”

  “Then stay with me tonight.”

  He ran his fingertips along the line of her jaw, adjusting her head so she was forced to look into his eyes. His stare was hot, filled with hunger and raw need, yet oddly earnest. Humbling amazement unfurled within her as she realized he was the first man to be so open and honest about his passion. For her.

  This was not an act or a ploy. He truly did find her desirable, for the smile that crept across his handsome face was pure sin.

  Her heartbeat roared in her ears. For an instant Harriet feared she did not have the strength to resist. Slowly, she lifted her hand and caressed
his clean-shaven cheek. She stared intensely at him for a long moment, desperately struggling to keep the temptation she felt from her face.

  And oh, how she was tempted.

  With the two most important male relationships of her life, Harriet always felt she had been striving to reach for something beyond her grasp. Her father’s love and attention. Her fiancé’s love and attention.

  Mr. Wainwright’s proposition should have left her bristling with embarrassment and outrage. Instead it made her feel beautiful. Womanly. For once she was not reaching towards a man who was turning away. For once someone she found desirable was reaching for her.

  ’Tis long past the time that you did something daring in your life, Harriet thought. Yet while the yearning hit her hard and deep, she could not lose sight of the fact that there were limits that all women had to place on their actions. And consequences.

  “Good-bye, Mr. Wainwright.” Her voice was breathy, but determined.

  He suddenly jerked his head and kissed the hand she still held against his cheek. “You have broken my heart, Miss Sainthill.”

  His attempt at humor eased some of the tension. As she turned away, Harriet could feel his burning gaze on her body. She knew it would only take one slight gesture of encouragement to bring him near. It was a heady, womanly power she never believed she would have the privilege of possessing.

  Pity, this was not the right time to use it.

  She fumbled slightly with the door handle before slipping inside. She shut the door quickly, practically in Mr. Wainwright’s face, then turned and pressed her back to the solid wood.

  Nervously smoothing her hair and righting her gown, Harriet waited to hear his footsteps fade away. The sound was a long time in coming and when she did hear it, a deep sigh of pure loneliness escaped. For the first time in her life, Harriet loudly cursed her rigid, moral conscience and innate common sense.

  Though it was not late, the snores from the corner of the room told Harriet that Kate was already fast asleep. Harriet did not bother lighting any candles, fearing it might awaken Kate. Given the unsettled nature of her emotional state, she was in no mood to answer any of the maid’s questions about the evening.