The Rogue Steals a Bride

by Amelia Grey

  With desires at a fevered pitch, they crushed, clung, and grabbed at clothing, pushing it up, moving it aside, and pulling it down. Matson felt so frantic to possess her that his soul hungered for her.

  His tongue plundered the depths of her mouth, and his fingers softly caressed her most womanly part. He felt her body tremble with urgency, and he ached with need. Her lips were soft, damp, and delicious. He found satisfaction in each soft, pleasure-filled sound she made as he touched her. He allowed her hands to go lower and close around his hardness, feel its thickness and weight. He gulped in a ragged breath. Her featherlight caress teased him and offered no mercy to his burning need. A spiraling heat of desire swirled and seared deep in his loins.

  “You should be wooed,” he whispered against her lips.

  “I have no patience with wooing. I want you to show me what my body is yearning for, because no other man has come close to making me feel the way you do.”

  “Oh, Sophia, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear you say.”

  She arched her hips toward him, and he surrounded her back with his arms and cradled her head in his hands.

  “You know,” Matson said, “there can be no commitments between us.”

  “That is the way it has to be.”

  He rolled on top of her and whispered, “You mustn’t cry out if it hurts at first. Sound carries on the water, and I have no idea how close we are to shore.”

  “I will not make a whisper, Matson.”

  He then covered her mouth with his and quickly, forcibly joined his body to hers. She stiffened, and he swallowed the soft grunts and moans she made. He knew it was the easiest and quickest way, but he hated like hell hurting her. After her maidenhead was broken, he took his time and rocked back and forth, kissing her cheeks, her lips, and her eyes. He let his throbbing shaft rest inside her while the initial pain subsided, but he could not contain a low groan of pleasure. It rushed past his lips, and he sucked in a hard, ragged breath.

  Slowly he moved a hand between them once again and found her most intimate part and tenderly caressed her. He needed to build up her passion once again. He wanted to make damn sure she enjoyed their union as much as he did. He found her lips with his and lovingly kissed her as he slowly began to move inside her.

  “Sophia,” he whispered against her lips, “you are so beautiful, so womanly, and so desirable. I swear to you I have never desired a woman the way I have ached for you. I wanted you beneath me like this the moment I saw you.”

  “Then why did you take so long?” she asked between choppy, desire-filled breaths.

  He chuckled into her mouth. “It is difficult to get you alone.”

  “My aunts.”

  “I’ve named them Double and Trouble.”

  She tried to laugh at his admission, but her breathing was too erratic. “I don’t know what you are doing to me, but I think I’m going to explode.”

  “Go ahead,” he whispered. “That is the joy of what we are doing.”

  She moaned in pleasure and trembled beneath his touch. Matson smiled against her lips. Her breaths were uneven, but he gently demanded that she participate in what they were doing.

  “Help me, Sophia, join me and move with me.”

  Her arms completely circled his back as she kissed his lips, cheeks, and neck, and back up to his lips once more. He moved slowly, pushing in and out with long, easy strokes.

  He moved inside her, and her lower body quickened in response, her hips lifting to meet him with a desperate eagerness, as if to take more of him into her.

  Their kisses moved from gentle to passionate to frantic. When she gasped and dug her fingers into his back, he knew he had satisfied her. He couldn’t leave his seed inside her, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew where that could lead, and he was not willing to go down that road. He strained to hold himself in check for a few more strokes and then, with willpower that came from an inner strength, he withdrew from her and rolled away as he found his own release.

  Matson winced at the pain of the quick withdrawal. He gasped and groaned as his body pulsed rapidly and then started to calm. He lay with his back to her, knowing he wasn’t satisfied. He still wanted her. Their coming together had been too fast, too strong, and over too quickly. He needed more of her. He wanted to stretch her on a bed and spend the whole damn night loving her, looking at her, touching her.

  He turned back to her. Perhaps there was time for a few more kisses, a few more touches.

  He looked down at her and realized he could almost make out her face. Time was short.

  Matson sat up in the boat and said, “The fog is lifting. Let me help you straighten your clothing.”

  “No, I’ve got mine. You take care of yours.”

  He stuffed his shirt back into his trousers and rebuttoned his waistcoat while he watched her smooth down her skirts. Her back was to him, so he touched her shoulder. “Are you all right, Sophia?”

  She looked up at him and gave him a sweet smile. “I am fine,” she said.

  “I think we should talk about what just happened between us.”

  “Why should we? Are you sorry about what we did?”

  “No, never,” he said, surprised by her response.

  “And neither am I. I knew perfectly well what I was doing, so I don’t think words about it are necessary. Look,” she said, pointing over his shoulder, “there is the blur of a light.”

  The gray was dissipating quickly. “Finally,” he said, forcing his fingers back into his gloves, “a beacon to show us the way to shore.”

  She touched his arm. “Thank you for chasing all the smoke away.”

  He expected her to be nervous or shy, but she wasn’t. He looked closely at her features, wanting to make sure there were no hidden regrets behind her smile.

  He smiled. “It was my pleasure, Miss Hart, but I fear your lips look ravished, and there’s a healthy blush to your cheeks.”

  “No doubt the wind caused it. It’s been blustery out here on the water for an hour.”

  “Do you think Double and Trouble will buy that?”

  She smiled again. “I will immediately fall into Aunt June’s arms. I’ll tell her I’m wet, cold, and near frozen to death, and ask her to please rush me home. She’ll not suspect a thing.”

  “Sophia—” He stopped.

  “Don’t, Matson. As far as I am concerned, nothing has changed between us.”

  She picked up her gloves and started putting them on.

  “That’s not true,” he objected. “A lot just changed between us. Something just changed for you. You are no longer a virgin.”

  She looked up at him with imploring eyes. “I am well aware of that. I knew that when I encouraged you, and I don’t regret it. What has not changed is that I am committed to marry a titled man, and I will.”

  Matson’s temper rose. “Then why did you let me touch you?”

  “Because I wanted to.”

  “Is Sir Randolph forcing you to marry a title?”

  “No,” she whispered and started putting on her other glove. “It was a vow I made to my father while he was dying, and I will keep that vow. That is why I said nothing has changed between us. It will be as if nothing happened between us. Please.”

  Matson could argue further or be a gentleman and accept things the way she wanted it. “All right,” he finally said. “Nothing has changed between us. That is the way we both want it.”

  “Yes,” she said and picked up her bonnet and placed it back on her head.

  Matson helped her fasten her wrap around her shoulders, and then threw on his cloak before moving to his seat at the front of the boat. He picked up his oar and started rowing, feeling very empty inside.

  A few minutes later they reached the shore. The footmen were there to help pull in the boat.

  “Sophia, we were so worried ab
out you,” June said, grabbing her and hugging her as soon as she stepped out.

  “Are you all right?” Mae asked, patting her on the back. “You look near frozen to death.”

  “Yes, I am cold,” she said, “but otherwise I’m perfectly fine, Aunties.” She glanced at Matson and gave him a shy smile. “Mr. Brentwood took excellent care of me.”

  “Didn’t you hear us calling out to you?” June asked, giving Matson a disapproving look.

  “Not in time to make it to shore,” Sophia said quickly, not giving Matson time to answer. “It was quite scary at one time, Aunt June. The fog was so thick, I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. I wanted to get close to Mr. Brentwood, but he insisted I stay where I was for fear any movement could cause the boat to tip over and land both of us in the water.”

  “Oh, my, he was right,” Mae said in alarm. “How frightful that would have been.”

  “It is my fault we were caught in the fog, Miss Shevington. I should have been paying more attention to the skies.”

  “Indeed you should have,” June said.

  “But thank you, Mr. Brentwood,” Mae said kindly, “for keeping our Sophia safe. I shudder to think what would have happened if Sophia had fallen in the water.”

  “She was very brave.” He smiled at her. “I think what she needs is to get home and have something warm to eat and drink.”

  “And then I shall be fine,” Sophia said.

  “Absolutely,” June said. “Come, dearest.”

  Sophia stopped her aunt and looked back at Matson. “Thank you for teaching me how to row, Mr. Brentwood. Perhaps we can do it again before May Day Fair Day?”

  Matson’s breath leaped in surprise. “I would like that, Miss Hart.”

  “No, no,” June said. “I’m afraid that won’t happen. Sophia does not have the time to spend another afternoon on the Serpentine. Her schedule is simply too full.”

  “Perhaps you can practice for the wheelbarrow race next time,” Mae said. “Mr. Brentwood can come to our house for that. You can practice in the back garden, where it is much safer.”

  “Mr. Brentwood?” Sophia asked.

  “I’d be pleased to do that, Miss Hart.”

  “Good.”

  Matson helped the ladies into the carriage, said his good-byes, and shut the door. He stood and watched the landau until it was out of sight. The fog had almost completely faded away. Nothing changed except that Miss Hart was no longer a virgin, and while she seemed all right with that when she left, he wondered if she’d still feel that way in the morning. It couldn’t be made right.

  He suddenly thought about his mother and Sir Randolph. What was it the old man had said to him? It was something that just happened. We were not in love, and there had been no long, unrequited desire between us. The time and the place were right, and we couldn’t stop what was happening between us. That’s all there was to it. There was no long affair, no other times, just that one chance meeting that resulted in twins.

  Matson finally knew what the old man meant.

  Sixteen

  Zeal is fit only for wise men but is found mostly in fools.

  —Ancient Proverb

  Sophia sat on the wide-striped, brocade settee in Sir Randolph’s house, sipping tea and listening to Lord Bighampton talk about his horses, his lands, and his latest attempt to see the ill King. It was easy for her to smile, nod, and show concern in all the right places. Thankfully, it was quite unnecessary for her to say a word. Lord Bighampton was happy to do all the talking.

  Occasionally, Sophia would look over at her aunt Mae, who was seated in a straight-back chair near the fireplace, seemingly enthralled with every word the earl spoke. They had not had much luck in getting a gentleman interested in her by inviting them to call on Sophia. Mae needed to let gentlemen know she was open to being called on, but Sophia didn’t know how she was going to talk her into doing that when she was determined that June not know of her desire to be courted.

  Because Lord Bighampton required her to say little, Sophia found it easy to let her thoughts drift to a gentleman who was far more intriguing than the earl. Every time Matson Brentwood crossed her mind, her breasts tightened and her lower abdomen quivered. Her chest ached from her heart pounding against the back of it, because she wanted to see him and be with him again. She’d lain awake the past few nights, thinking about their afternoon in the boat. The air was heavy with a damp chill, but she had never felt so warm in her life.

  In her wakefulness, she had wondered if she would have been so bold and encouraged him to touch her in such intimate ways if the encompassing fog hadn’t forced her to relive the horror of the night her house burned down.

  Yes, she had concluded. She had needed to be wanted, to be touched by a gentle hand, and to be reassured that even when life was unfair and took away something loved, it would give something special back to you at another time.

  That afternoon she was reminded of how much she’d already lost: her mother and all her belongings, her father, and the right to marry whomever she chose. Sophia couldn’t bear the thought of losing the opportunity to have Matson show her how a man desires a woman. That was something she had control of, and she wasn’t sorry about her decision. She knew it meant she would not be an innocent for her husband, and in a way, perhaps that was a betrayal of the man, whoever he might be, but she would never be sorry she had that time with Matson.

  She hadn’t seen Matson at any of the parties she’d been to since the afternoon in the boat. She hadn’t seen him at the park either. He’d told her he rode his horse every afternoon at the same time, but he hadn’t been there yesterday when she walked in the park with her aunts after a most uninspiring visit with Mr. Alfred Boyd. The man had been so boring, not even her aunt Mae was interested in him.

  “What about you, Miss Hart? Were you surprised by Lord Tradesforke’s choosing couples for his May Day Fair Day event?”

  Sophia cleared her throat and set her cup down on the tray. “I’m still so new to London, I think everything surprises me, my lord. I was just thinking I should send for hot tea. Would you like that?”

  “Splendid idea,” he said. “Lord Snellingly told me that you like to have poetry read to you. Perhaps you could ask Miss Shevington to speak to your cook about the tea, and if she doesn’t mind, perhaps she could look for a book on poetry for me. I would love to read to you.” He turned to Mae. “Would you do that for us, Miss Shevington?”

  Mae jumped up. “Oh, yes, of course, your lordship. I’d be happy to.”

  Lord Bighampton rose too. “Thank you, Miss Shevington, so kind of you to be so willing.”

  “Oh, no,” she said, beaming. “Not at all. I know exactly where the poetry books are in Sir Randolph’s book room. Did you have a favorite poet? I’m sure Sir Randolph will have it. His collection of books is quite extensive.”

  “Any of them will do. I’ll leave it to you to choose.”

  “I’ll take care of it right now,” she said eagerly, already halfway to the door. “And I’ll see to the tea too.”

  “Take your time,” he called to her as she walked out of the drawing room.

  Lord Bighampton surprised Sophia by sitting down very close to her on the settee. He picked up her hand from her lap and kissed it.

  She smiled nervously as she pulled her hand away. “Now what were you saying about Lord Tradesforke?”

  “Nothing of any consequence, Miss Hart,” he said, and without warning, grabbed her upper arms, jerked her to him, and planted his lips on hers.

  Sophia was so stunned at first all she could do was shudder while his lips pressed harder and harder on hers. When she realized what was happening, she tried to pull away from the earl. His big, puffy hands tightened on her arms, alarming her. She flattened her hands on his chest and pushed as hard as she could, but he didn’t budge. She twisted her face away from his, but al
l that did was allow him to kiss her cheek, over her jaw, and down her neck.

  She squirmed, and with the palms of her hands, tried to shove his full cheeks away from her face as she exclaimed, “What are you doing, my lord?”

  “I’m kissing you, my dear,” the earl huffed breathlessly. “I know you are an innocent, but surely you know what a kiss is.”

  Sophia jerked down hard with her arms and broke his hold on her. Wrenching her body to the side, she jumped up and rushed to the other side of the settee, putting it between them.

  “How dare you, Lord Bighampton!” she admonished. “You should be ashamed of yourself for forcing a kiss on me.”

  He rose from the sofa. “Then come willingly into my arms and favor me with another stirring kiss.”

  Stirring kiss?

  “I will not. You are not behaving like a gentleman, my lord.”

  Lord Bighampton quickly rounded the corner of the settee toward her. Sophia moved at a fast walk in order to keep the small sofa between them.

  “I know ladies like to be chased, Miss Hart, but there is no time for that today. Miss Shevington will return soon.”

  Not soon enough!

  “I do not want to be chased,” she managed to huff out while she sped around the settee.

  “I’ve already made my intentions clear to Sir Randolph, my sweet cherry blossom, and soon you will be mine.”

  Sophia gasped. She rounded the corner of the settee again as the earl continued to pursue her. “I know nothing about your intentions. I have not agreed to marry you or anyone else.”

  “You don’t have to,” he said, reaching out and grabbing hold of a ribbon on the waistline of her dress.

  For a moment Sophia’s forward momentum was stopped, and she was yanked backward, but fearing she might be caught in his gripping arms again, she used all her strength to hurl away from him. The ribbon ripped from the fabric of her dress, but she safely darted away from him again.