Rose

by Lauren Royal

  “Of course not! Kit and I have never—”

  “Never?” Lily’s blue eyes widened in patent disbelief. “Never?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Rose’s fingers gripped the chair’s gilt armrests. “We haven’t had any time alone together since the minute we became betrothed!”

  “But before—”

  “Before? What kind of woman do you think I am?” she huffed, knowing quite well what kind of woman she was. The kind that would have crawled all over Kit given half a chance—before their betrothal, he’d been the one to display all the self-control. And after…

  Her mouth dropped open as she stared at her sister.

  Sweet Lily. Deceptively sweet Lily. “Don’t tell me you and Rand—before you were married—”

  “Of course we did,” Lily scoffed. “We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. And Violet and Ford—”

  “Violet, too?”

  “Violet didn’t even wait until she was betrothed.”

  “What?” Did Rose not know her sisters at all?

  Lily nodded, still calmly stroking the cat. “Ford seduced her into marrying him.”

  “No.” Not serious, bookish Violet.

  “Oh, yes. He and Rand planned the whole thing one night when they were drunk.”

  “That sounds like Ford and Rand,” Rose conceded. “But I cannot believe both you and Violet…good God, I’m the one who’s supposed to be forward, and the two of you…Gemini, this is so unfair!”

  “And I imagine you’re all worried about the first time, too.”

  “No,” Rose said quickly. She wasn’t. At least, not of that piddly one-time pain she knew her sister was referring to.

  “I don’t believe you. No one should have to go through their wedding day worrying about their wedding night. It’s supposed to be a special day, and how could you possibly enjoy it? I felt so sorry for poor Judith.”

  They were both silent a moment. “I hope she’s happy,” Rose finally said.

  “I’m certain she is. And I’m certain her wedding night went splendidly, too. But you are not going to have to worry about yours.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Rose said miserably. “Mum is so vigilant, you’d think I was the Crown Jewels and she’d been hired to guard me.”

  Lily’s cat leapt out of her arms to join a sparrow and a squirrel that seemed to be chatting on the windowsill. She and Rand had moved to Oxford from his father’s estate only last week, just in time for Michaelmas Term to begin, but her animal friends had found her already.

  “We’ll just have to get you two away from Mum,” Lily mused, watching the squirrel feed the bird a bit of nut.

  “We’ve tried.”

  “Not with my help.” She absently rubbed an old scar on the back of her hand, then brightened and focused on Rose. “I know! We’ll tell Mum that the three of us girls want one more sleeping party before you’re married. And we’ll tell her it’s going to be here. She’ll never come this far just to check on us for one night.”

  Rose shook her head. “Kit is too honest for his own good—I’m not sure I’d be able to talk him into such a deception.”

  “Kit won’t even be involved. Instead of sleeping here, the three of us will meet at Violet’s and then go to Windsor and surprise him.” Lily grinned, obviously pleased with her plan. “He’ll put us up, won’t he? Has he room?”

  “At his house?” Rose had never realized Lily had such a devious mind—and she’d never appreciated her sister more. “Good God, yes—he could billet an army. Wait till you see it.”

  SIXTY-THREE

  ONE EVENING a week later, with only eight days left before the wedding, Kit was summoned by his butler to find Rose and her sisters on his doorstep.

  For a moment he couldn’t find words. But that didn’t matter, because it was only a moment before Rose launched herself at him and kissed him enthusiastically.

  Laughing, he set her back. “What are you doing here?”

  “We’ve come to have a sleeping party,” she informed him gaily. “With you.”

  “With me?”

  The shock must have shown on his face, because Lily giggled. “Not all three of us,” she clarified. “Violet and I will share a chamber; Rose assured us you have one to spare. Mum thinks we’re all at my house.”

  “Does Rand know about this?”

  “Of course,” Lily assured him. “He thought it was a capital idea.”

  “Mum tried to keep them apart after they were betrothed, too,” Rose put in. “May we come in?”

  “I’m sorry.” Surprise seemed to have robbed him of manners. “Yes, please do come in.”

  “This place is stunning,” Violet said in an awed tone as they stepped inside.

  “Goodness, yes, Kit.” Lily turned in a circle, taking in the tall entry with its stone walls, white ceiling, and black-and-white floor. “I thought the house you built for Rand was special, but this…” She peeked into the drawing room. “May we have a tour?”

  By the time the tour ended, Kit too thought the visit was a capital idea. His cook prepared a lovely venison pasty for supper, but he and Rose couldn’t get through it fast enough. He felt a mite awkward showing her sisters to a chamber and then leaving them there rather early—but not awkward enough to spend the evening twiddling his thumbs while they played music and sang or did whatever else ladies usually did to pass the hours.

  Besides, he didn’t own a harpsichord.

  In any case, the guilt evaporated the minute he got Rose to his own chamber and into his arms for a proper kiss.

  He’d kissed her many times, but this kiss was different, the result of depravation heightened by a sense of the forbidden. He explored her mouth hungrily, her unmistakable response making something twist in his gut.

  When he finally pulled away, she gave him an uncharacteristically shaky smile. “How is Ellen?”

  He turned her around and started unlacing the back of her gown. “Fine, according to her husband.”

  “Her husband?”

  “She still won’t talk to me. I’ve stopped by six, seven times—but she stares right through me.” As the laces came undone, he kissed his way down her slender back. “I don’t fancy being invisible,” he murmured against her skin, smiling to himself when he felt her shiver.

  “She’s coming to our wedding, though, isn’t she?”

  “According to Thomas, no.” Rose looked delectable with the gown open down her graceful spine. Tempting beyond words. “But let’s not talk about my sister, shall we?” He dropped to his knees and pressed a kiss to the small of her back. “We’ve much better things to think about.”

  She turned, sinking her fingers into his hair as she looked down on him. “I’ll go talk to her tomorrow morning before I leave.”

  The dress hung from her shoulders, poised to drop. “Hmm?”

  “Ellen. She’s my friend as well as your sister. I want her at our wedding.”

  He sighed and got to his feet. “This isn’t really about Ellen, is it? You’re anxious. That’s why you keep talking.”

  He saw her swallow hard. “I’ve never done this before.”

  “But you want to, don’t you?”

  “Good God, yes. But…Lily said everyone is anxious the first time.”

  He winced. He’d never bedded a virgin, and now he knew why. “If it hurts, I’ll stop,” he promised.

  “Will you?”

  “You have only to say the word.” With a little luck and a lot of skill, he hoped to have her so out of her mind with pleasure that words at that moment would be impossible.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Her gown’s wide neckline slid off one creamy shoulder, and he bent his head to kiss her there.

  “Kit?”

  “Hmm?”

  “About Ellen…”

  He straightened, supposing he’d get nowhere until she’d finished this fruitless conversation. “What about her?”

  “I know her attitu
de must pain you, especially after she didn’t come to you when she found herself with child. I cannot imagine why she’s acting like this, why she refuses to talk to you when you’re the easiest man to talk to. But I don’t like to see you hurt.”

  Hurt was such a simple, innocuous-sounding word. Devastated better described the way he felt. But he didn’t want to discuss this now. Not with Rose half undressed and about to fall into his arms.

  She sighed. “If you’d just give her the dowry you saved—”

  “No.” He led her over to sit on his red-draped half-tester bed. “I’m not going to give her eleven thousand pounds when she won’t even deign to speak to me.”

  “Clearly her behavior doesn’t warrant it, but for you, Kit, and for me. Because we want her at our wedding. What if she promised to speak to you afterwards—”

  “No,” he forced out through clenched teeth. He wasn’t going to bribe his sister, either.

  Rose’s half-exposed breasts rose and fell with another sigh. “I’ll go talk to her in the morning. I’ve got the perfect excuse, since I need to return her book.”

  “Her book?” His gaze snapped up to her face. “You mean the book?”

  “I Sonetti, yes. I’m telling you, I can hardly wait to rid myself of the blasted thing.”

  “Where is it? I want to see it.”

  She’d brought a small valise, which one of Kit’s maids had set in the corner of the chamber. Rose dug out the volume and handed it to him, looking more hesitant than he’d ever seen her.

  In his estimation, Rose wasn’t a hesitant sort of woman. Or a prude, either. Curious, he opened the cover. He’d already heard the book contained nude pictures, so he wasn’t surprised to see an engraving of a couple making love. “I cannot read this,” he said.

  “It’s Italian. Translated, it doesn’t sound much like a sonnet.” She sat beside him, hitching her dress back onto her shoulder. “Turn the page.”

  He did, shrugged, then turned a few more and stared. “Lord Almighty. Are these people acrobats? My poor back wouldn’t last ten seconds in that position.” Amazed that the whole court was abuzz and dying to view these secret poses, he flipped another page, then eyed Rose speculatively. “Do you bend like that? Hell, sweetheart, I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t.”

  She swallowed hard. “You’re not going to want to try these, then?”

  He could only laugh. “I’m afraid I’d end up in bed for a month. And I don’t mean passing a pleasant time.”

  “Thank God,” she said, and turned to launch herself at him again.

  SIXTY-FOUR

  THE BOOK FELL from Kit’s hands to the floor. “What’s this?” he asked, still laughing.

  Rose couldn’t remember ever being quite so relieved. She kissed his eyes and his cheeks and his chin. “I’m just so happy to find that you share Charles’s preference for catholic lovemaking.”

  He drew back a little, looking puzzled. “Charles?”

  “King Charles.”

  Kit’s brow didn’t clear. “While it’s true I’ve heard rumors that he’s secretly Catholic, they’ve never been proven. And I’m a member of the Church of England.”

  Now it was her turn to laugh. “Nell told me Charles was catholic in his lovemaking, not that he’s a secret Catholic. She explained that he’s enthusiastic but not imaginative.”

  “Ah. Poor Nell.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I can assure you, sweetheart, one needn’t be a gymnast to be imaginative.”

  The look in his eyes made the bottom drop out of her stomach.

  The emotion must have shown on her face. “Nothing frightening, I promise,” he added quickly.

  But she wasn’t frightened. Kit’s laughing reaction to the engravings had cured her of that. Now she was just intrigued. Very, very intrigued.

  And eager. She began peeling off her loosened gown.

  He stopped her hands with his own. “Let me have the pleasure of that.” And those hands went to work undressing her.

  Leaving her sitting on the bed, he knelt at her feet and pulled off her shoes. He reached under her skirts to pluck off her garters one by one. Rolling down her stockings was a production all itself, a sensuous slide of silk. His fingertips smoothed her calves, making her wish they’d move up higher.

  “You make an excellent ladies’ maid,” she said shakily.

  A faint smile was his only response. Taking her hands, he stood and brought her up with him. In no time at all, her gown was a memory, her chemise gone along with it.

  He stepped back, his gaze roaming her hungrily. “You’re exquisite,” he said in a tone so husky it squeezed her heart.

  She knew she had a pretty face, and men had often ogled her clothed body. But no one had ever seen her nude. Part of her wanted to fold her arms across her breasts, turn away, grab the red counterpane off the bed and cover herself.

  But a larger part loved the way he was looking at her. She reveled in it. The appreciation in his eyes made her feel powerful.

  She didn’t cross her arms, instead striking a pose with one hand on a cocked hip. “I’m not too slim?” she asked teasingly, fishing for compliments.

  Though the court ideal was quite a bit plumper, Kit seemed to like her the way she was. “You curve in all the right places.”

  His gaze kept skimming her body, making the bubbles dance in her stomach, the ache begin down lower. “Or too tall?”

  “Hell, no, sweetheart. I don’t get a crick in my neck kissing you.” He stepped closer and gathered her into his arms, demonstrating by lowering his lips just a little to meet hers. While his mouth plundered recklessly, his hands wandered her back, raising goose bumps in their wake. “You’re the perfect height,” he murmured, his hands moving down, warm on her bare bottom, pressing their bodies together where the ache was building. “We fit.”

  They did. Already the ache was becoming insistent, nearly intolerable. Wanting him closer, she broke from the embrace. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

  He laughed and shrugged out of his surcoat.

  “More,” she said, moving closer to the fire, hoping the burnished light would look pleasing on her skin.

  Apparently it did. The green in his eyes deepened as he stripped off his long waistcoat and let it drop to the floor. “Your breasts are beautiful,” he said.

  Just hearing the words, she felt them tighten. “Your shirt,” she ordered, presenting him with her back as she bent to stir the fire.

  She heard his sharp intake of breath, and he couldn’t get out of the shirt fast enough. By the time she straightened and turned, he had his shoes and stockings off as well.

  Gemini, he looked magnificent. Firelight danced over the planes of his face and flashed gold and red on his body. She moved closer and laid her palms on his chest, closing her eyes as her hands learned the feel of a man. Taut skin over bone and muscle, the springy softness of dark hair. She smoothed her hands down, down, until they rested against the waistband of his breeches.

  “This, too,” she said.

  “Not yet.” He swung her around, backing her toward the bed and finally pushing her onto it. She laughed as she landed on her back.

  He rested a knee on the mattress and raised one of her feet. “You’re beautiful here,” he said, his expression one of concentration. His fingers slid between her toes, his thumb massaged her instep.

  She arched her foot in response. “You’re beautiful, too.”

  The concentration turned to amusement. “Am I?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  He smiled, sliding his hands slowly up her leg, paying special attention to her knee. “You’re beautiful here,” he said, flexing it and straightening it. He raised her leg higher and kissed her behind it, sending a shiver rippling through her.

  She’d never imagined the back of her knee was so sensitive. A hot stab of lust speared her right between her legs.

  He watched her face as his hands moved up higher, higher, dancing on her thigh, a gentle, s
wirling torment. He was close, so close to where she wanted him. She wanted not only his hands, but all of him. Most especially that part of him that was meant to slide into a woman.

  “Kit,” she murmured. “Can you—”

  “No.” He set her leg on the bed and switched to the other, starting again with her foot by pressing a warm kiss to the sole. “Just relax.”

  She decided to take his advice and relax to the inevitable, enjoying the little bursts of pleasure he created as he slowly worked his way up, leaving no part of her limb untouched. “You’re beautiful here,” he said, tracing the curve of her calf. And teasing the inside of her thigh. “You’re beautiful here, too.”

  A bead of sweat rolled down his chest, glistening in the firelight. She wanted to lick it off. The ache was becoming an insistent pulse. She wanted to feel him inside her.

  She wasn’t relaxed at all.

  “Kit, please.”

  “Please what, sweetheart?” He was concentrating again, his eyes closed, his fingers working their way up, closer to where she wanted him.

  “Please can you take off your—”

  “No,” he said, moving suddenly to silence her with a kiss.

  His weight on her felt exciting, but he gave all his attention to her mouth. His woodsy scent filled her head. Her hands smoothed his back, his sides, wherever she could reach.

  “You are very imaginative,” she admitted weakly when he finally relinquished her lips.

  His response was another lazy smile as he retreated back toward her feet.

  “If you kiss my knee again,” she warned, “I’m going to scream.”

  “I’d like to hear that,” he shot back with a grin, gripping both her ankles.

  He looked too blasted good looming over her. She held her breath as he skimmed his hands straight up, spreading her legs as he went. “You’re beautiful here,” he said softly, his heated gaze fixed between them.

  Her breath burst out in a rush. Never had she thought to have anyone look at her there. Or at least not until she’d seen Position Seven in I Sonetti.