All Night with a Rogue: Lords of Vice

by Alexandra Hawkins

  Juliana turned her face to the side, inadvertently giving his lips access to her cheek. “The fire—”

  “Will not satisfy you,” he said simply, drawing them both down until they were on their knees. He widened his parted thighs so her bottom was snug against the apex of his trousers. “It cannot make you burn from within.”

  She felt the fullness of him as his hips gently undulated against her bottom. The subtle movement sent an electrical current of anticipation racing up her spine while every nerve in her body responded to his unspoken demand. Juliana closed her eyes against the foreign, overwhelming sensations his proximity was triggering.

  “Please. No more,” she said, her voice cracking. To her utter shame, she was on the verge of tears. Sin likely spent his evenings in the company of courtesans and mistresses. She was an inexperienced child in comparison. “It was foolish of me to stay. This frightens me. You frighten me.”

  Sin stilled his sensual movements. Although he did not pull away as she had hoped, she sensed that he was attempting to leash the side of him that had frightened her. He inhaled deeply and then guided her until she was sitting on the floor next to him. Sin gave her a measured glance. “Lady Juliana frightened? I do not believe it.” With the fleshy pad of his thumb, he gently wiped the tear that had escaped the corner of her right eye. “Besides, I am the one who should be scurrying away in terror.”

  The statement was so absurd, Juliana temporarily forgot about her own fears. “Surely you jest, my lord.”

  With candlelight shining in his eyes, his gaze held a calculating intensity that she had never beheld in their previous encounters. “No, I do not believe I am,” he said, cupping her face in his hands. “I sensed that you were trouble the moment I opened my eyes and saw you peering down at me from the Lettlecotts’ hazel tree.”

  How was she troublesome? The man pursued women the way a hungry cat chased after a fishmonger’s cart.

  “Well, I think you are the most aggravating gentleman I have ever encountered.”

  He kissed her sweetly on the mouth to silence her. “You are not alone in your opinion.” Sin gave her arms a playful squeeze. “Here now. Up you go.”

  Juliana frowned as Sin pulled her onto her feet. His abrupt shift in temperament made her head spin. “What game is this?”

  “No games, my lady.” To her embarrassment, he smoothed her skirts until the fabric covered her ankles. “You just reminded me of a rule I rarely break.”

  Sin took her by the arm and literally dragged her to the door. He was behaving as if he could not wait until he rid himself of her.

  “What rule?” she asked, feeling insulted.

  “I do my best to avoid messy emotional entanglements. And you, Lady Juliana, represent the worst sort.”

  It had been a test.

  That was what he had told himself as he and Lady Juliana left the little anteroom that housed Lord Kempe’s mineral specimens and strolled down the gallery.

  He had been a gentleman.

  Of sorts.

  The lady was barely mussed from her encounter. He had barely gotten a taste before he had pulled her to her feet and shaken out her rumpled skirts. If not for the bright rosy flags of color on her cheeks, one might never guess the Lady Juliana had been dallying with a gent.

  Alexius was not certain why he had ended his delicately balanced game of cat and mouse with her. His sister had deemed Lady Juliana a heartless jade determined to steal Lord Kyd. Belle was wrong. While there was no doubt that the lady had struck up a friendship with the baron, Lady Juliana was neither heartless nor a jade.

  She was an innocent.

  It should have made a difference to him.

  Perhaps it was the tainted blood of his sire running through his veins and arteries. Christ knew he was his father’s son. The elder Sinclair had viewed it as an asset. The two wives he buried might have thought differently.

  His first wife, Belinda’s mother, had been handpicked by Alexius’s grandfather. It had been a loveless affair, rife with violence that occurred in and out of the bedchamber. After their daughter had been born, Alexius’s father and his marchioness had lived separate lives. According to Alexius’s sister, her mother had been beaten so often that it had been believed that she was unable to give her husband his heir.

  When Belle was five years old, her mother died from catarrh of the stomach while her husband was enjoying his latest mistress during a hunting party.

  He did not grieve for his wife. With his marchioness barely cold, the elder Sinclair set out for London to resume his life of debauchery. He drank obsessively, was prone to fits of temper, and was scandalously imprudent when it came to young ladies.

  Alexius’s mother, Lady Susan, happened to be one of the nameless ladies his drunken father had carelessly seduced and discarded. Unfortunately for the elder Sinclair, Alexius’s mother was the youngest daughter of the Earl of Talmash. The earl happened to wield a great deal of influence politically and within the ton.

  Upon hearing of his daughter’s delicate condition that many thought was the result of violent rape, Lord Talmash gave the elder Sinclair the choice between death and marriage. He wisely chose to marry Lady Susan. The match was not unpalatable to the elder Sinclair, and seven months later the new marchioness proved her usefulness by delivering the Sinclair heir.

  In the elder Sinclair’s typical selfish fashion, he celebrated the good news of his son’s birth in the bed of his mistress. Lady Susan fell into a melancholy that most people claimed she never recovered from. Several months after Alexius’s second birthday, his mother perished in a carriage accident. There were whispers that his father had driven his unhappy marchioness into killing herself. It was entirely possible, Alexius silently mused. Both he and Belle had lived under the oppressive hand of their sire.

  The elder Sinclair could not tolerate weakness or compassion, and he had beaten those lessons into his children.

  Lady Juliana halted as she and Alexius approached the grand staircase. Although it had not been deliberate, his silence had apparently unnerved her.

  She released his arm. “It is best if I continue alone.”

  Alexius inclined his head. “If that is your wish.”

  “It is, my lord,” Lady Juliana said firmly. “My mother hopes to find solid matches for her daughters this season, and you are—”

  “Unsuitable?”

  She blushed at his blunt honesty.

  He was not insulted by the lady’s conclusion. The fact that she was not only beautiful but intelligent as well merely heightened his interest in her.

  “Yes. Pray do not be offended.”

  “Oh, I am not,” Alexius assured her. He lightly stroked her chin with the pad of his thumb. “I am entirely unsuitable for you.”

  Lady Juliana hastily nodded. “Good, then we are in agreement.”

  “Not quite.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “While I am wholly unsuitable for marriage, I have every intention of seeing you again.”

  “I do not think that is wise.”

  “Mayhap not. However, I cannot be dissuaded,” he said, pulling her into his arms and causing her to cry out in surprise.

  His lips hovered tantalizingly just above hers. She expected him to kiss her. It would have been so simple to close the inch between them and satisfy his hunger for the lady. Instead, he released her.

  She staggered back a step and clutched the newel.

  It pleased him to see that she was disappointed that he had not kissed her. “I give you a word of warning, Lady Juliana. The next time we are together, I will not be a gentleman.”

  Frost did not step out from the shadows until Sin and Lady Juliana were halfway down the staircase. Interesting, he thought. He had abandoned the delightful Lady Lawrie to follow Sin because his reaction to Lady Juliana annoyed Frost. There was something between them, though he could not put his finger on it. Curious, he had trailed after them, watching them as they disappeared into the small anter
oom. Twenty minutes later, the pair had reemerged into the gallery. Frost had noted Lady Juliana’s flushed features and partially wrinkled skirts and Sin’s grim expression.

  Whatever had occurred in that room had not sated him.

  Although Frost could not fathom the source, a sharp flicker of resentment burned in his chest. He and Sin had shared women in the past. Once Frost had tired of the shy, nervous wallflower, he would have happily handed her over to his friend.

  Something was wrong with Sin.

  If Lady Juliana had somehow bewitched him, Frost was equally determined to break the spell she had cast.

  No woman had ever come between him and Sin. Frost intended to make certain that Lady Juliana was not the first.

  Chapter Eight

  “DO YOU THINK it might rain?”

  Juliana glanced back at Cordelia, who was sitting on a blanket beside their mother with a book on her lap. She peered up at the sky and gave the clouds a critical glance.

  “Most likely,” she said, tossing bread crumbs to the greedy black-headed and herring gulls that snatched the bread in a delightful mid-air display at the water’s edge. “You can smell it in the air.”

  She held up a large piece of bread and laughed as a rather aggressive gull plucked it from her hand.

  “We have hours yet before the rain chases us off,” the marchioness said, quashing the unspoken suggestion that they should pack up their belongings and return home.

  When Lady Duncombe had announced at breakfast that they would be picnicking along the Thames, Juliana and her sisters had been reluctant. The late nights were wearing to both body and mind, and the three sisters had been content to remain at home. However, the marchioness could not be discouraged from having her adventure. With her friends Mrs. Maddock and Lady Harper in tow, they had found a scenic spot near the Richmond Bridge.

  It had been a tranquil afternoon, one that reminded Juliana of idyllic afternoons she had enjoyed in the country.

  “Come play with us, Juliana,” Lucilla shouted as she chased after a small wicker hoop.

  “Yes, do join us,” Lady Harper said, panting from her exertions. “Unless you intend to feed the birds our entire repast.”

  Juliana’s sister had enticed the thirty-year-old Lady Harper into an energetic game of Les Graces. Armed with a stick in each hand, each was supposed to fling the seven-inch hoop high into the air so the other could catch it with her sticks. For Lucilla and Lady Harper it seemed like a hopeless and sadly graceless endeavor.

  Juliana brushed the crumbs from her fingers. “The last time I played the game with Lucilla, she tried to run me through with one of her sticks.”

  The admission startled Lady Harper. “Good heavens.”

  Cordelia brought her book up to cover her mouth as both she and Maman laughed.

  Lucilla angrily stabbed one of her sticks in Juliana’s direction. “That is a bold-faced lie. I merely grazed you.”

  Juliana brought her hand to her chest. “You hit me squarely in the heart, dear sister. I would be cold in my grave if not for my corset.”

  “That would have been tragic,” Lord Sinclair said, casually striding toward them. “Perhaps I should add your impenetrable corset to my prayers each night.”

  Juliana had managed to avoid this particular gentleman for three whole days. How had he found them? And blast his timing for coming along when she had been discussing her undergarment, too!

  She scowled at her mother. “I do not believe in coincidences.”

  The marchioness would not meet Juliana’s eye.

  Sin was dressed for riding, though the immaculate condition of his clothes suggested that he had come by coach rather than on horseback. His dark brown coat and shirt were free from debris and his cravat still bore the crisp folds that the man’s valet had carefully aligned and pressed with a hot iron. Her gaze drifted southerly to his legs, encased within tight leather breeches and polished black boots. Juliana sensed that she was not the only one admiring Sin’s muscular legs.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Duncombe,” he said, offering his hand to steady the marchioness as she stood up to greet him. “Ladies.”

  Juliana’s forehead connected with the palm of her hand. “Maman, tell me that you invited Lord Sinclair to join us?”

  Cordelia stood behind their mother. “If you were planning to invite gentlemen, why did you not send a note to Lord Fisken?”

  “And Mr. Stepkins?” Lucilla added.

  Sin murmured in the marchioness’s ear, “Most ladies are grateful to have gentleman callers. You have your work cut out for you if you hope to find Lady Juliana a husband this season.”

  Juliana lifted her head so she could glare at him. “I can hear you.”

  “Oh, you do not know the half of it, Sinclair,” the marchioness lamented. “Spare me from an intelligent miss.” She shook her head as if disappointed in her youngest daughter. “Why could you not be more like your sisters?”

  Both Cordelia and Lucilla grimaced at their mother’s remark. “Maman!” they wailed in unison.

  A cool drop of rain struck Juliana’s cheek. She raised her gaze heavenward and opened her arms wide as she felt several more raindrops strike her on the hand, right shoulder, and top of her head.

  She laughed at the irony.

  “It appears Mother Nature has foiled your plans, my lord. Another time, perhaps,” Juliana said smugly as she knelt down to gather up the blanket.

  The gentle rain suddenly turned into a downpour. Lucilla and Lady Harper squealed. They hastily collected baskets and parasols before running toward the carriage. Cordelia was several yards behind them, holding her book over her head in a futile attempt to save her bonnet.

  Sin took the rolled-up blanket from Juliana. “With your permission, Lady Duncombe, I would like to escort your daughter home.”

  “That will not be necessary—,” Juliana began.

  Her mother accepted the blanket from the marquess. She pursed her lips in contemplation, weighing the impropriety of the gentleman’s request against the opportunity of strengthening his interest in Juliana. If her mother had any concerns, she did not voice them aloud. Perhaps she viewed the possible rewards worth the risk.

  “I see no reason to deny your request as long as you do not tarry too long over the task.”

  She kissed Juliana’s cheek and dashed up the grassy incline to join the others.

  Hand in hand, Sin led her away from her family toward his conveyance. They were not the only pedestrians running for shelter. A patch of slippery mud caught Juliana unawares as her left foot slipped, knocking her off her stride. Before she could cry out, the marquess had pulled her against him.

  “Clumsy minx,” he teased as he half-carried her to the waiting coach.

  Juliana gasped in feigned outrage. “I will have you know that I am quite graceful under drier conditions.”

  “Indeed. I look forward to a demonstration.” Sin gave her a playful shove into the coach’s interior. To the coachman he said, “Tarry awhile.”

  Heedless of the rain dripping off him, the coachman touched the brim of his hat. “Aye, milord.”

  The door closed behind Sin as he settled in beside her.

  “ ‘Tarry awhile’?” she echoed, her melodic tone burdened with suspicion. “You assured my mother that you would not.”

  “Dear lady, I did no such thing. If you recall, your mother ran off before I could offer a reply.”

  Juliana shoved at his shoulder when the marquess shook the rain from his hair like a dog trotting out from a lake’s shallow waters. She laughed at his outrageous manner. He reminded her of a mischievous boy. “Are you mad? We cannot stay here. Think of your poor coachman. He is likely to drown in this storm.”

  The marquess lifted the opposing bench and retrieved a small blanket. He plucked her reticule from her hands and tossed it on the bench. “The man has an umbrella.”

  Sin did not seem very concerned about his servant.

  “That is hardly the point,
my lord.”

  Sin had peeled off one of her gloves before she realized his intentions. He grabbed her other hand to keep her from slipping it behind her back. “Be sensible, Juliana. Whether we are moving or stationary, my coachman’s discomfort remains the same.”

  The soggy glove was discarded with its mate.

  Juliana shivered slightly from a sudden chill. “I suppose so.”

  The marquess kissed the tip of her nose. “Do not fret, my dear. My servants are well compensated and used to my odd whims.” He nodded at her bonnet. “Christ, what a frightful mess. Might as well remove it.”

  Her fingers found the ribbons under her chin. While she meekly obeyed his request, she watched as he removed his coat and gloves. He used the small blanket to blot the rain from his face and hair.

  The rain hammered against the coach’s roof, drowning out any noise the horses or the coachman might have made. Within the dry confines of the coach, she and Sin were insulated from the elements and for all practical purposes alone.

  Juliana’s heart quickened at the thought.

  “Here now, let me tend to that,” Sin said, removing the ruined bonnet from her limp grasp.

  Juliana glanced down and assessed her dress. The hem was muddy and there were wet streaks marring her long skirts; however, the dress was salvageable. She started as Lord Sinclair touched her cheek with the edge of the blanket.

  “Rain or tears?”

  She smiled at his tender query. “Rain.” She turned away and tried to peer through the small window that was covered in beaded raindrops and grime. “Do you hope to outlast the storm?”

  “Or something,” he muttered under his breath.

  Before Juliana could question him on his bewildering comment, Sin used two fingers on her chin to guide her face toward his.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Why, I am kissing you, Juliana.”

  Her eyes were opened wide when his mouth settled over hers like a warm blanket, effectively silencing her response.

  Or protest.

  If Juliana had had the will to make one.