Cocky Baron: Regency Cocky Gents (Book 2)

by Annabelle Anders

  She wants to feel closer to me. An unpleasant weight squeezed his chest.

  She’d always been close to Westerley, Lady Tabetha, and even their mother. And before Westerley’s father was killed, she’d never strayed far from the legend of a man.

  Chase studied the glowing embers.

  She wants to feel closer to me.

  “You wish to be close to your family because you care for them,” he offered and then handed the cigar back without her having to ask.

  “Yes.” She seemed surprised that he understood. “If I care for a person, I want to be there for them. I cannot be there for them if I don’t know what’s in their heart.”

  Good God. How the hell could anyone know what was going on in there?

  “Whereas when I care for a person,” Chase had no doubt on this matter, “I protect them.”

  “From?” she prodded.

  He flicked the lace at his wrists. “From things that hurt them.”

  “And who protects you?”

  Chase accepted the cigar back from her. Without providing an answer to her question, he sucked the end. Why would anyone need to protect him? All he required was that the people he was responsible for remained safe and content. Protecting them gave him great satisfaction.

  Confusion pricked at the back of his neck.

  She cares for me.

  “Do you not wish me to protect you then?” Out of the question, of course. But what part of this puzzle was he missing?

  He’d married her. He’d made love to her.

  She exhaled loudly. “I appreciate that protecting a wife is part of a husband’s duty.” Her fingers tapped words out on both hands. “Where wild boars are concerned, or murderous highwaymen. But there is no need to protect me from… everyday unpleasantness—even from the occasional tragedy.”

  Her words hovered between them.

  “Then what is it that you want from me?” He rubbed the back of his neck for the umpteenth time that evening.

  She turned her back on him. “It’s not fair for me to ask since you didn’t choose to marry me.”

  He couldn’t deny that. But… “If I can provide it, I would like to try. But if I don’t know what it is then I’ve already failed.” And by God, he wanted to do what he could to keep her happy. It was what husbands did, wasn’t it?

  He swallowed hard. “I care for you, Bethany.”

  She jerked around to stare at him. “You don’t have to say that.”

  “I know.” He held out the cheroot and she took it—this time, with shaking hands. “What do you want, Bethany?”

  Finally, she nodded. “I’d like to know what you think about when you wake up in the morning—your favorite foods, your favorite color. Little things, but also big things—matters in your heart.” She spoke the words clearly and then wrapped her lips around the paper where his lips had been moments before. Sharing his vice with her was oddly intimate—a secret kiss.

  Almost as though gravity pulled him to do so, he stepped across the distance separating the two of them and placed his hands on her hips.

  “How does one go about doing that?” He asked. “Sharing one’s heart and all that?”

  Her mouth mesmerized him as she exhaled a wispy river of smoke.

  When had Bethany become sexy? He squeezed the flesh just above her hipbones.

  “We won’t be needing this.” He removed the cigar from her fingers. It was over half burned so he dropped it onto the path and ground it beneath his heel.

  “They talk to one another.” Her voice hitched even as she raised her hands and rested them on his chest.

  “Go on.” He tugged her closer, his cock already hard.

  Her figure softened against him. Ah, yes, she wasn’t unaware of his arousal.

  “They share their fears, and their hopes.”

  Chase bent down and grazed his teeth along the soft skin of her shoulders. “What else do they share?” He rather approved of this particular fashion she’d been wearing—sleeves that allowed him to lower the bodice of her gown without fussing with buttons or ties. He hungrily caressed the tops of her breasts with his gaze. Beautiful and full, nearly spilling out of her stays.

  “They share their bodies.” Her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat.

  “I am amenable to all of this.” He grazed his face along her neck and then dipped his chin and mouth into her cleavage, all the while walking her backward, off the path and onto an adjacent patch of clover.

  Not ideal but good enough. He wasn’t willing to wait any longer. He’d waited all day.

  I’ve waited a lifetime.

  Dipping low, he slid his arm beneath her knees and before she could protest, he had her laying in the clover.

  Her lips were full and parted, and her hair splayed on the verdant greenery. Bracketed by his knees, her satin skirts ensured she was trapped beneath him.

  He loved the decadence of her womanly body. The merest tug and dusty rose nipples slipped out of her stays. Chase leaned down and suckled. He’d thought he was a leg man, and then an arse man, but with the moonlight casting pale light on her alabaster skin, he’d rethink his preferences again.

  But for now…

  The tip pebbled into tight ridges when he clamped down and her groan vibrated beneath him.

  Taking his time, he ran his tongue around the turgid skin and sucked harder.

  Greedy hands clutched the back of his head. She wants more.

  As did he.

  This need was unfamiliar. He’d claim all of her at once. Tasting her, pushing inside her, surrounded by her.

  Her kiss. He needed her kiss.

  She welcomed him even as their tongues tangled violently.

  Where was that timid woman he’d once believed her to be? “You want this.”

  In answer, she pulled him down to her again.

  Chase reached for the fasteners of his breeches, freeing himself and then clawing at the hem of her gown. He needed inside her.

  Her eyes shown almost silver in the moonlight, and they caught and held his, begging him… For what?

  “Share yourself with me, Triston.”

  Her knees parted and he stilled, hovering his cock at her opening.

  “Like this?” He teased both of them, edging himself inside her velvety warmth, not even an inch and then stopping. A trickle of sweat dropped off his forehead into her hair. He didn’t know why he was waiting but he couldn’t escape the intensity of her gaze.

  If he closed his eyes, he could bury himself to the hilt.

  “And like this.” She cupped his cheek and jaw.

  “And this?” He nudged inside another inch, his bollocks screaming at this godforsaken torture.

  Her eyelids fluttered, heavy with desire even as she placed her hand against his chest, over his heart. “And this.”

  She was asking for too much.

  “I’ll protect you.” Chase closed his eyes.

  She clamped her legs around his waist and raised her hips to meet him. The slide inside fulfilled the promise he’d been waiting for.

  Sweet fucking mother of heaven.

  Control bolted.

  He ground his mouth against hers, thrusting his tongue inside, matching the rhythm of the joining. Each stroke was a grievance bringing him closer to relief. Pain shot through his scalp where she tugged at his hair. He released her mouth long enough for her to gasp his name. “Triston.”

  Frantic, heated, primal.

  “Beth.” Her name was a prayer—her body his chapel. Need he’d long kept under lock and key exploded.

  Chapter 24

  Errands

  The sun wouldn’t rise for an hour or so, but Chase lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling, Bethany tucked against his side.

  He was breaking his own rules. He’d told her everything about his father, about his sisters. He’d told her he would share his thoughts. He’d promised that he would try to share his blasted heart, for God’s sake.

  He wasn’t the sort of person
who could do that. He never had been. He’d kept even his closest male friends from knowing these aspects of his life. His fears? Good God. She had no idea what she was asking. And dreams were for people who believed in fairy tales.

  He’d promised her things he could never deliver. He only wished he understood why. The sex was good. Hell, the sex was phenomenal. But he knew better than to mistake feelings of desire for something more. Damn and blast.

  How could he protect her and do all of this? Because he did, in fact, care for her.

  She nuzzled deeper into his side, and he rubbed a hand along her arm.

  He liked having her beside him, where she was safe, protected from the world. And yet, the urge to escape had him shifting uncomfortably.

  He’d failed to protect her from himself. Consummating, he’d reasoned, had been a necessity. But he’d taken it as license to release his must dissolute urges with her.

  He wanted to believe she’d wanted it the same as he had, and yet her entire life, she’d lived to please those she cared for. Was her enthusiasm in bed simply the manifestation of her desire to please him?

  Because that was what she did. She did what she could to please the people she loved.

  The room felt as though it was shrinking, and her hand suddenly felt like a shackle where it rested on his chest.

  He needed to be outside.

  He needed to breathe.

  He wasn’t ready for any of this.

  Chase edged out of her embrace, slipped off the bed, and located his clothing, which had been discarded somewhat frantically a few hours before.

  Scooping them off the floor, he donned his shirt and began tugging on his trousers, practically gasping for air.

  “Is everything all right?” Her voice tugged at him through the darkness.

  “Just going out.” He swallowed. “Errands.” Damn but he could hardly talk.

  The mattress groaned as she pushed herself up from the pillows.

  He couldn’t risk looking at her. Swathed in moonlight, soft and disheveled, she would appear even more enticing than she had earlier, but she would also want answers.

  She would want him to talk to her.

  His throat thickened even as he felt the world clawing at him.

  “It’s not even dawn yet.” She sounded sleepy and confused.

  Chase rubbed a spot in the middle of his chest. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t hurt her. “I… have errands.” It was all he could think to say, but he couldn’t exactly tell her the truth. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what that was anymore.

  “At this hour?”

  He shoved a foot into one of his boots. Was the room getting smaller? “Yes.”

  She didn’t say anything after that but simply looked on while he finished hastily dressing. When he moved toward the door, he halted. He had to tell her something.

  But what?

  “I can’t—” His voice broke. “I can’t be the person you want me to be.” He didn’t deserve her. He’d married her with friendship in mind. Or had he? Was he such a hypocrite that he’d deny having wanted to bed her ever since the moment he’d thrown her across his lap?

  “I don’t want you to be anyone other than who you are.” Her voice wobbled. “That’s what love is.”

  Black encroached on his vision.

  No!

  “I don’t want your love. Don’t you understand that?” He whipped around and stared at her hard. She needed to see him for who he was. “Love is a trap. You of all people ought to know that.”

  She blinked and tilted her head. “It’s only a trap if you allow it to be one.”

  “What would you know?” Guilt pressed in but there was nothing he could do to reassure her.

  He could not bear the burden of loving anyone else. Already, he was drowning.

  He marched toward the door and ripped it open. “I never asked for your love, Bethany. Do me a favor, won’t you? And keep it to yourself. It’s the last thing in the world I need right now.”

  Another layer of guilt piled onto all his notions of inadequacy as he strode along the familiar corridor. Mindful of others sleeping in the house, he kept himself from stomping until he’d descended the stairs.

  And once outside, on the darkened street, he ran.

  He ran in the opposite direction of Farm Street, past Grosvenor Square and farther along, past the entrance to St. George’s. When he realized it was the same distance he and Bethany had walked after their wedding ceremony, he circled back to the park where he could lose himself amongst the less traveled dirt trails. When he finally arrived at the street again and then stopped to catch his breath, he found himself at the steps leading up to Knight Manor. The door opened before he even knocked.

  Blackheart.

  The running must have relieved something inside of him because he couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of this arrogant duke dressed up as Greys’ butler.

  “Still at it, eh?”

  “Is there some reason I wouldn’t be?” Blackheart pulled the door wide, cocking one brow. “Concerned you’ll be running through the park in the nude come the end of the Season?”

  Damned Blackheart would, of course, know of their bet. Before Chase could respond, an eager maid with large eyes appeared.

  “Mr. Cockfield. What should I do with—” She blinked twice and began backing away as quickly as she’d arrived. “Beg my pardon, Mr. Cockfield, sir. I didn’t realize you were with someone. I’ll find you later.”

  Blackheart glanced at her and nodded and without waiting for Chase to say why he was here, gestured for him to follow. “We can speak in my office.”

  It was a tiny room, not much more than a closet, and yet Black took his seat as though it was nothing less than a throne. Chase took the austere wooden chair across from him and then, placing his elbows on his knees, dropped his head into his hands.

  Blackheart reclined, resting one ankle on his knee. “Running, eh?”

  Acting as butler, Blackheart appeared more relaxed than Chase had ever seen him. “You don’t appear to be finding your position difficult. Perhaps I ought to go into service.”

  Blackheart chuckled. “This?” He glanced around. “It’s nothing. I’d be bored to tears if I didn’t have to worry about you sorry gents.”

  “Why? What have I missed?’ Because misery loved company and he’d provided more than his fair share.

  Blackheart dodged the question with a dismissive wave. “Have you told her yet?” Blackheart was the only one of his friends who knew of his father’s second family. Not because Chase had disclosed the information, but simply because, one way or another, Blackheart had a way of knowing everything. Usually, it came in handy, but on some occasions, it could be annoying.

  “Last night.” But that wasn’t the trouble, was it? He dropped his head into his hands again, resting his elbows on his knees. “Why are women so difficult?” He didn’t really expect an answer.

  “All women, or just one in particular? I’ve never considered Lady Bethany to be a difficult person, just the opposite, rather.”

  “She isn’t. Of course, she isn’t.” Chase squeezed the bridge of his nose, undeterred this time by the pain from leftover bruises. “But she is proving to be more of a… distraction than I’d anticipated.” Which was the understatement of the century.

  “But not in a difficult way.” Blackheart dropped his foot and leaned forward. “Tell me. How has she been demanding? Does she require your constant attention? Does she require you to solve her problems? Or threaten a temper when she doesn’t get her way?”

  “None of that.” Chase ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “It’s much worse than that… She wants to know what I’m thinking.”

  Blackheart, of all people, would understand what a trial this could be.

  But rather than understanding, Blackheart stared at him, expecting more.

  “She wants me to share my heart,” Chase added.

  “You don’t care for her?”

  “Of co
urse, I care for her. But I’ve no heart to share.”

  Now he saw understanding. “Because you’ve given it to someone else?”

  “God, no.”

  “You don’t like her.”

  “I like her plenty.”

  “Does this have something to do with your sisters and your mother then? You feel you’re too busy spreading yourself around to everyone else. How can you know what’s inside your heart if you can’t even find it?”

  Preposterous. Romantic drivel.

  “Precisely,” Chase agreed.

  Silence ensued but for the ticking of a clock in the corner.

  Blackheart steepled his fingers, resting his forearms on the desk. “My brother serves in the Army.” He smiled faintly. “Was promoted to major last year.”

  “I’m well acquainted with Lord Lucas.” Chase wondered where the hell Blackheart was going with this.

  “He lost six men under his command in an ambush last fall. When I heard the news, I feared it would tear him apart. Worried like hell when he didn’t show up at Crescent Park. But then I tracked the blighter down. He was working on a broken-down estate in the middle of nowhere, assisting one of the widows, and he was not torn apart after all. In fact, he was determined, calm—stronger than I’d ever seen him.”

  “I’ve never seen him any other way.”

  “Yes, well. You aren’t his older brother. The thing is, he found his strength because of a woman. The right woman.” Blackheart pinned his ebony gaze on Chase. "Because the love of the right woman can make you stronger.”

  Did Bethany make him stronger? He couldn’t help but recall the peace and calm she’d brought to the meal with his mother the night before. And how he’d felt after discussing his sisters with her. Was it possible her love wasn’t just another burden?

  Blast and damn. He hated when Blackheart made sense.

  “So why are you still a bachelor?” Chase taunted, annoyed at receiving such sound advice.

  Blackheart merely raised his brows and then rose, not even having to take two steps in order to push the door open. “Did you wish to meet with Greystone, or do you have something more important to attend to, perhaps?”