Seven Nights in a Rogue's Bed

by Anna Campbell

  Still not fully awake, she sighed, low and sensual. Her bones felt like water and she flowed against Jonas as naturally as silk. He stopped moving, just filled her so completely that he touched her heart.

  The connection was perfect, soul and body.

  Slowly—everything about this astonishing union was slow, as if they stretched every second to eternity and beyond—she arched to press her breasts against his chest. She felt no need for speech. Nor apparently did he. There was just the smooth slide of bodies, the ragged susurration of breath.

  She stroked his back, feeling the muscles flex. Her hands curved over firm buttocks, digging into the flesh, pushing him deeper inside. He groaned. His next thrust was more emphatic, although radiant tenderness lingered like sunset on the horizon.

  She raised her knees, changing the angle. Coherent thought fled. He accelerated, drawing her climax closer. The bed creaked and she moaned. Need gripped like talons. She tightened her thighs around his hips, urging him to continue.

  By the time his unearthly control frayed, she was sobbing. His thrusts weren’t as measured; the skin beneath her hands was slick with sweat. She tensed around him. He groaned like a man tested to the limit, shifted once more, and light exploded behind her eyes. Vaguely she felt Jonas go deep as he gave up his seed.

  She opened dazzled eyes to gray light. The new day arrived. Jonas had made love to her for the last time, transporting her to a paradise beyond the realms of imagination. She blinked back tears even as pleasure inundated her.

  The good-bye was spectacular. It was still good-bye.

  Reluctantly, Jonas rolled off Sidonie to lie panting at her side. The separation cut like a knife, hinted at the separation soon to come. He was exhausted. He’d given her everything he had. He’d never felt so consumed. The night had been astonishing, unforgettable.

  Now the night was over.

  He glanced across at Sidonie’s face, clear in the advancing light. She was crying. How he loathed her tears. They made him feel like someone scraped out his guts with a rake. He struggled for comforting words, but what they’d just done robbed him of speech. Since they’d made love, she hadn’t looked at him. He stared into the mirror above. She sprawled beside him. Her tears conveyed misery beyond speech, more agonizing for their silence.

  She took his hand, lacing her fingers between his with a sweetness that made his heart cramp. She drew his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles with reverence and gratitude.

  And love?

  Hell, he didn’t know. But as he stared up at the mirror, he felt a sting behind his eyes at her gesture’s unconstrained poignancy. He swallowed again and tightened his grip so even if she wanted to leave, she couldn’t. It astonished him how difficult it was to find the one word he needed after these exquisite days. The one word he had no right to say.

  He forced the forbidden syllable from his tight throat.

  “Stay.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jonas felt the sinuous softness drain from Sidonie’s body. She tried to tug her hand away but he held on. He meant to hold on to more than her hand, damn it.

  He knew what she’d say before she spoke.

  “Jonas, I can’t.” Her voice was husky with tears. She made a less emphatic and equally futile attempt to break free.

  “Of course you can.” She wasn’t eager to leave him. He couldn’t have mistaken the situation so badly. For God’s sake, she’d just been crying as if her heart broke. He reared up on one elbow to study her. The weak daylight filtering into the room illuminated her face. She looked sad and defeated.

  She turned to him and once more he tumbled into fathoms of brown. Nobody looked at him the way Sidonie did. Thank God she’d dragged him kicking and screaming to abandon the blindfold. His heart constricted as he recalled staring into her eyes when he moved inside her. He’d floated in eternity. It was unbearable to think he’d never again experience that ineffable connection.

  “You said it yourself. I have a mere week of freedom. If I’m late back, I’ll be found out.”

  He frowned and brought their linked hands to his lips. He kissed the erratic pulse at her wrist. “Would that be so bad?”

  “I don’t want people calling me a whore.” Her slender throat moved as she swallowed. “I won’t miss you less for the sake of another day in your arms.”

  With her departure breathing down his neck, the confession didn’t mollify. He leaned over her as if sheer physical presence could change her mind. His voice emerged as a growl. “I’m not talking about one more day, Sidonie.”

  Her mouth constricted with unhappiness as she touched his scarred cheek with one of those caresses that always pierced his heart. “Another two days. Three. A week. It’s only putting off the inevitable.”

  Jonas sucked in a breath, knowing how recklessly he was about to dare fate. “You could stay forever.”

  She flinched as if he’d hit her. “Jonas…” She lowered her hand and clenched it against the sheets. “It’s impossible.”

  “Why?”

  Her lips twisted in a bitter smile. “I’m at heart a conventional creature. Think of the scandal if the world discovered you kept Lady Hillbrook’s sister as your mistress.”

  He sucked in another breath and steeled himself to say what he should have said first. “Then, hell, marry me.”

  Shock flooded Sidonie. Shock, dismay, denial, and a lurking, unforgivable gratification. She stared into Jonas’s face, wondering if he’d run mad. “M-marry you? But you don’t know if I’m going to have a baby yet.”

  “That’s not why I’m asking you.” He shifted up against the headboard and stared down at her with a light in his eyes she’d never seen before. “Think about it, Sidonie. Why shouldn’t we marry?”

  “Because—” Her voice faded. At last she wrenched her hand free. And immediately missed the connection.

  His mouth quirked with derision. “That’s a good reason.”

  She rose to her knees so their eyes were level. She was achingly conscious of their nakedness, but it seemed too missish to raise the sheet, given the night just passed. “You can’t be serious.”

  A muscle flickered in his cheek, proof that this astonishing conversation wasn’t a momentary whim. “I’m unencumbered with a wife. You’re unencumbered with a husband. There’s no legal impediment.”

  Her lips flattened in distress. “There’s more than legalities to consider and you know it.”

  “On your admission, you’re not happy with Roberta and William.” He paused while a discomfited expression darkened his face. “I’m one of the richest men in the kingdom. Perhaps that compensates for my personal deficiencies.”

  His self-denigration hurt her. She didn’t care about his money. She only cared about him. Much good it did her.

  “Don’t be a fool. You know I—”

  Even as they demanded to be spoken, she bit back words that committed her to a lifetime with him. She was astonished that her first reaction to his proposal wasn’t a categorical refusal. The plan never to marry had been one of the pillars of her existence for as long as she’d comprehended the unequal relations between husbands and wives. Jonas had taken a mere week—admittedly a passionate, emotional, life-changing week—to bring her to a point where the idea of marriage was no longer anathema. Of all the changes he’d wrought in her, coaxing her from innocent girl to sensual woman, making her see the world in much wider terms than she ever had before, this was the greatest.

  But marriage still meant voluntarily placing herself in someone else’s power for the rest of her life. Even as the desire to accept his proposal bubbled up inside her, she adjured caution. She’d known him a mere week. She needed to solve Roberta’s dilemma before she revealed the truth of his origins to Jonas and perhaps, perhaps, agreed to become his wife. Not to mention the possibility that when he realized she’d been hiding such significant information, he mightn’t want to marry her anymore.

  Nerves made her voice shake. “You know I want yo
u. Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

  The disbelieving look he cast her struck her bruised heart like a blow. “Any woman who could stomach a troll.”

  Anger spurred courage. She straightened and took his face firmly between her palms. “You’re the best man I know.”

  He responded with a laugh so poisoned with cynicism, it made her belly twist with pity. “Which is why you’re floundering to find a way to say no.”

  She kissed him hard before she released him. “You’re a fool, Jonas Merrick.”

  His jaw firmed and his expression didn’t lighten. Her stomach sank as she realized he remained convinced of his essential unworthiness. “Does that mean you’ll stay? I doubt it.”

  “Jonas, I always swore I’d never marry,” she said gravely.

  He reared up from the pillows and curled one powerful hand behind her head, his fingers tangling in her disheveled hair. “I’m not William.”

  “Of course not. But I’d still be your property.”

  His hand tightened at her nape. “I’ll sign anything. Give you money, rights, land, houses.”

  “I’d still be your wife.”

  “That’s not a death sentence.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said helplessly. “If I were to marry any man, it would be you. I don’t expect you to understand.”

  She hardly believed that the sarcastic, disdainful scoundrel she’d met a week ago would forsake pride to propose. She hardly believed that in spite of everything she knew about marriage and everything still to be resolved between them, she considered his offer.

  “Do you really think life alone is better than life as my wife?” He released her, his silvery gaze unwavering. “You speak of what you’ll lose if you marry. What about what you’ll gain? Don’t you want children? Wouldn’t you like someone to turn to when you’re troubled? Can you live without a man’s touch?”

  The question wasn’t whether she could live without a man’s touch but whether she could live without Jonas’s touch. She extended her hand in a silent plea for forgiveness. Even as part of her wondered if she’d be so very wrong to say yes. “Jonas, I don’t make my choice lightly.”

  He ignored her gesture and desolation edged his voice. “I hardly blame you for refusing. I’m no great prize, after all.”

  Her lips tightened. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

  He looked startled. “It’s true.”

  “You’re the cleverest man I know.” She wondered why she argued when he seemed prepared to accept refusal. Still she persisted. He must see he was remarkable. Her hands fisted against her thighs. “You’re considerate and funny and you’re a lover out of my dreams. Should I develop a taste for luxuries—which I may well do after this week—you’re so plump in the pocket, you wouldn’t notice if I started buying gold-plated underthings.”

  His smile was uncertain, nonetheless it was a smile. Her churning misery eased a fraction. “I’d notice anything you did with your undergarments, amore mio.”

  She blushed and the urgency faded from her voice. “You underestimate your appeal, Jonas. How long before you talked me into bed? Three days? Four? And I was a woman of unquestionable virtue.”

  His smile developed an acerbic tinge. “Careful. At this rate, you’ll consent to be my wife.”

  “It’s been a week.” If only he knew how near she verged to relenting and consigning everything else to the devil. But even now when she longed to fling herself into Jonas’s arms and dare the world to snatch her away, she couldn’t forget William’s last assault on Roberta or her fear when she heard that he became increasingly divorced from reality. First she must settle Roberta somewhere safe, then she’d tell Jonas about his birth. Only after that could she decide whether her future lay with him.

  “I make my mind up quickly, bella.” He paused. “I suspect you do, too.”

  “You hardly know me.”

  “Don’t be a silly widgeon, Sidonie.” This time his smile held no shadows, only endless tenderness. For one crazy moment, she stared into his intense features and every obstacle dissolved like mist in the sun. A lifetime with this fascinating man seemed promise of heaven.

  “I’m flattered by your offer, Jonas. But I… can’t.”

  The glow seeped from his eyes and he shifted to the edge of the bed. “That’s your prerogative.”

  He sounded cold, composed. Beneath the chill, she heard turbulent grief. He shouldn’t sound like that. Not after only a week. She reached for him but stopped short of making contact. “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. Once his indifference might have convinced. After all, the man she’d met a week ago had seemed nothing but power games and spite. Now she knew better.

  “You made no promises.”

  Except she had. With her heart. With her body. With a thousand sighs of surrender. Did she underestimate him? Was it possible that if she admitted what she knew, Jonas would devise some solution to Roberta’s dilemma? He was daring and resourceful and his fortune gave him a power in the world she couldn’t hope to match.

  Then like an echo she heard him saying to the Duke of Sedgemoor, “It can’t be helped.”

  Roberta’s safety was too important to risk on a man Sidonie had known a mere week. Shocking enough that Sidonie would commit herself without hesitation, but she couldn’t forget her responsibility to her sister.

  She stared directly at this man who had given her such transcendent joy and took the coward’s way out. “Jonas, I need to think.”

  When he faced her, he didn’t look any happier. He was wise enough to guess she’d more than half-decided against marrying him. “I have a feeling if you go away, I’ll never see you again.”

  “Give me a month. Everything has happened so fast.”

  “A week.”

  Surprisingly, given how difficult the discussion, she laughed. “You’re so demanding. A woman would need to be sure of herself to take you on.”

  His silvery eyes glittered. “You’re up to my weight, carissima.”

  The tragedy was she believed she was, too. She bent her head. Her voice was a mere thread of sound. “A week.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jonas eyed Sidonie where she sat beside him in the swaying carriage. Unwillingly he’d conceded the wisdom of abandoning her new clothes, but he couldn’t like seeing the shabby white muslin. He should have told Mrs. Bevan to burn the rag instead of merely laundering it. When Sidonie returned to him, as surely she must, he’d drape her in silks and diamonds.

  And, by God, he’d burn that eyesore of a cloak.

  Her posture was straight and self-contained, gloved hands linked in her lap and attention fixed on the passing countryside. For most of the journey, she’d dozed fitfully with her head on his shoulder. He’d stared into her lovely face and noted marks of weariness and care—and the indefinable air of a woman who had recently enjoyed sensual fulfillment.

  She’d been unusually quiet all the way from Devon. In fact, she’d been unusually quiet since his impulsive proposal, apart from the inevitable argument after he insisted on accompanying her home. Much as he loathed referring to his swine of a cousin’s house as Sidonie’s home.

  It was now late afternoon and they approached Ferney, the mansion he’d bought to put his cousin’s nose out of joint. How astonishing the difference a week made. Or a week such as the one he’d spent with Sidonie. He’d gloated, raising that gaudy monument to his worldly success at William’s front gates. Jonas had intended it as a permanent reminder that while he might be a bastard, he was a damned rich bastard.

  Now his quest for revenge seemed infantile.

  Jonas’s time with Sidonie sucked the infection from old wounds. Perhaps it was the beginning of wisdom that he at last relinquished his cousin’s chastisement to heaven. He cringed to recall how he’d used Sidonie’s sister in his machinations. Roberta had invited trouble, but he’d been a blackguard taking advantage. Sidonie had been too quick to forgive him for that. His intentions had been rotten to
the extreme.

  More important than revenge was the need to convince Sidonie to marry him. His proposal had been impulsive but the instant he spoke, he recognized their affair could have no other outcome. She was a woman a man wanted for life. Sidonie Forsythe was a creature of fire and light. He craved that heat like he craved air. When she was with him, he rejoined the great tide of humanity. He felt like a man a woman might even come to… love.

  He contemplated Sidonie’s slender form in the shadowy interior. Had he planted a child in her womb? He was a cad to trap her so dishonorably, but the prospect of Sidonie growing round and lazy was breathtakingly appealing.

  She turned her head to study him. He hoped to hell she didn’t guess his thoughts. “You can’t come to Barstowe Hall. If William finds out I’ve been with you, there will be the devil to pay.”

  “Hobbs has orders to head for Ferney, then I’ll walk you across the park. I’ll keep your reputation safe, bella.” He wanted to keep more than her reputation safe. He wanted her to confide her whole life to him.

  Slowly, Jonas, slowly. Patience reaps its own rewards.

  “You needn’t come. I doubt brigands will leap on me in deepest Wiltshire.”

  “You’d deprive me of the last of your company, dolcissima?”

  “You think this is easy?” she asked dully. “To leave you after what we’ve shared?”

  He seized her hand. Immediately the storm in his blood quieted. Her merest touch set the world spinning in the right direction. He waited for her to withdraw. Apart from those sweet moments curled against him in sleep, she’d hardly touched him all this long day. His proposal had destroyed their physical ease with each other.

  Until now.

  She gripped his hand hard and he felt her desperation, even through two layers of leather. Perhaps the week apart would work to his advantage. She’d have time to realize she missed a man in her bed. Except, curse him for a sentimental fool, he wanted more from her than physical desire. He wanted the generous heart that led her to offer herself to a monster’s embrace in her sister’s place. He sounded petty and jealous and needy, but he wanted her to love him the way she loved Roberta. With that same unconditional devotion, that same clear-eyed appreciation. Sod it, selfish it might be, but he wanted her to love him more than she loved Roberta.