The Thief and the Rogue

by Rachel Donnelly

  He’d held good to his word and hadn’t attempted to touch her again. In one way it pricked at her pride that he’d given up so easily, in another, she felt relief. Still, it was oddly insulting that he hadn’t tried to seduce her, even once, though she had no intention of giving in if he had.

  Watching him over the rim of her glass, tucking into his supper with such concentration while lending half an ear to Bella, it looked as though she were the farthest thing from his mind. His fickleness was frustrating to say the least. First he wanted her, now he didn’t.

  Men!

  There was no figuring them out.

  When she excused herself sometime later and he made no move to follow, she felt a fresh rush of resentment. She kissed Bella on the cheek and offered him a curt goodnight. As she mounted the stairs a small sigh of disappointment eased passed her lips.

  After Cora helped her prepare for bed, Kay dismissed her for the night. She tightened the cord on her dressing gown as she headed for the adjoining door. Then, just before she reached it, she stopped. Why should she torture herself when he clearly showed no interest? He’d most likely stay up late discussing business with Alex. He wouldn’t even notice.

  She retraced her steps to crawl into her own bed with a contented smile. There, that was easy. No more wondering and waiting. How silly she was being after all, to wish for something she would be forced to refuse in the first place. It was ridiculous, completely irrational. What she needed was a good night’s sleep to clear her head.

  But that was easier said than done. She rolled and tossed for what seemed an eternity.

  It seemed she had only just closed her eyes when something woke her. She came half-awake with the strange sensation of floating. Only vaguely aware of her cheek resting against a warm hard chest, she drank in the smell of sandalwood and leather.

  Then she realized she wasn’t floating—she was being carried. Her heavy lids fluttered opened. Her sleepy gaze followed the hard line of Hunter’s jaw, his smooth lips, his perfect strong nose. The heat in his gold-flecked eyes brought her fully awake.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Holding you to our bargain.” He kicked opened the adjoining door with the toe of his boot then strode with her to the bed. “Bella is still here, or had you forgotten?” He dumped her on the bed like a sack of grain.

  She struggled to right herself. “It’s only one night. What does it matter? Bella hasn’t intruded on our privacy thus far. I doubt she’s going to now. If she wanted to know if you’re performing your duties as a husband, which I’m certain she doesn’t, she’d just ask?”

  He folded his arms across his broad chest. “Did your Uncle Fergus ask you how many times we’ve made love?”

  “Of course not!”

  “There you have it.” He began to untie his robe.

  She turned her head away.

  “It’s not exactly a question for the dinner table. One must determine such things through more cunning means.” He drew back the covers then climbed into bed.

  Kay turned to confront him.

  A smile twitched at the side of his mouth as he stretched his arms above his head, displaying muscles in places she didn’t know men had them, and so much smooth golden skin she couldn’t stop staring.

  “I fear you’ve played me false, sir,” she said, dragging in a great gulp of air. “Admit it! There was never a need for me to share your bed. You conjured this tale for your own purpose. Bella is no more likely to burst into this room than a herd of stampeding elephants.”

  “I’m sure Bella would object to your comparison. She’s really quite sensitive you know.” He folded his arms across his chest with a satisfied smile and closed his eyes.

  “Ohhh!” she expelled with a huff, wriggling off the bed. “How dare you laugh after I’ve lain here all these nights in agony!”

  He caught her wrists, laughing. “What’s the matter? Isn’t my bed comfortable enough for you?” He pulled her down, rolling her onto her back, to pin her arms above her head. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like sleeping here, because you snored like a sailor each night.”

  She writhed beneath him, sucking in air in tiny gasps. “I’ve never snored in my life!”

  He grinned down at her. “It’s a very quiet delicate sound, but a snore nonetheless.”

  “What you were hearing was the echo of your own snores, which are loud enough to wake the house, I’ll have you know. You’re lucky I didn’t take your suggestion and smother you with your own pillow.”

  He gazed down at her with a wicked glint in his eye. “I’d rather be smothered with kisses.” He leaned his head down to press a feather-light kiss on her lips.

  Her heart picked up speed. When his lips left hers her breath was coming hard, making her voice sound husky. “Real kisses?”

  “Is there any other kind?”

  “Perhaps.” Her tongue traced a path where his lips had been. “There are two kinds of marriages. You’ve taught me that—pretend marriages and real ones. How can kisses be real in a pretend marriage?”

  “My kisses are always real.” He pressed his lips to hers again to prove it.

  “Yes, but…” He was far too close. Her heart thumped in her ears. She couldn’t think.

  “Perhaps I should show you.” He licked his tongue across her lips in a gentle caress that made her shudder.

  Her lips parted, quivering in anticipation. Real or not she wanted his kisses, and much, much more. A spark of arousal shot through her when his mouth touched hers, igniting little fires that melted every doubt, every thought. When he let his arms drop to release her, she drew her own around his neck. She wanted to feel every part of him, taste every sweet pleasure his mouth had to offer. Their marriage might be pretend, but this hunger, this longing, and the hardest, hottest part of him pressing against her belly was ohh, sooo real.

  An aching need built inside of her, blocking out everything else—every thought, every sound, except the heat of his tongue and his sleek hard body. Soon she was helping him lift her night gown off above her head. It went billowing to the floor with only half of its buttons.

  Hunter pushed her back against the pillows, running his hands over her breasts, sucking each nipple until her whole body hummed. Then very gently he trailed his tongue down her belly to press a kiss to her navel. “My kisses are real, but I can’t believe you are,” He said, his breath sending tiny shivers dancing over her skin. “You can’t know how beautiful you are, Kay. I can’t look at you without wanting to touch you.”

  “Nor I you.” She clasped his hard heat in her hand, exploring every inch with gentle strokes.

  A low primal groan escaped his lips.

  A slow seductive smile curved hers as he pushed her back amongst the pillows. She ran her hands down the length of his smooth firm back, exploring every muscle, every curve, urging him closer. A gasp of pleasure followed when he plunged deep inside her slippery heat.

  Reality began to fade, replaced by the delicious ecstasy his thrusts produced. She gave herself over to the tangled sensations of bliss until their hearts beat together in a fast rhythm that grew louder and stronger and higher until it leapt so high it was lost in the crescendo of sweet pulsing release.

  She clung to his neck as the tremors subsided to languid heat. God! Why hadn’t she given in to her need for him sooner?

  He rolled to his side, pulling her with him until the pounding of their hearts slowed to sleep.

  Kay woke in the morning to find Hunter’s face buried in her hair, his breath fanning her cheek. She snuggled against him with a feeling of contentment.

  Why had she resisted so long? It seemed foolish now to deny what time she had left with him. Before her stay in London and her introduction into society, she’d have trusted her heart. It didn’t matter if their marriage wasn’t real, this happiness was, and that was all that mattered.

  A loud pounding on the door interrupted her thoughts, followed by Alex’s urgent voice. “Wallshire! Are you awake?”r />
  Hunter pulled himself to an upright position. “Come in and stop hollering, before you have the whole house in an uproar!”

  “What!” Kay squawked. “Don’t let him in here.” When the door started to open, Kay dove under the sheets with another strangled squeak.

  Hunter chuckled. “Make it quick, Alex, before Kay expires from lack of air. As you can imagine we weren’t expecting guests.”

  “Oh! My apologies.”

  “What in the blazes have you been doing? You look like you’ve been crawling around in the dirt. Or are those leaves in your hair part of some new hunting disguise?”

  Though curiosity was killing her, modesty immobilized Kay under the sheets.

  “I’ll tell you what I’ve been doing!” Alex’s voice rose in distress. “Running for my life! That poacher was either a lousy shot or he was flat out trying to kill me.”

  “If any harm has come to my horse,” Hunter gritted out. “I’ll kick your arse from here to London.”

  Kay pinched him in the arm for his selfish speech.

  “Ouch!”

  “I’m nearly killed and all you can think of is that bad-tempered beast!” Alex all but roared.

  “Beau was my companion long before I met you and he’s been a damn sight more loyal, I might add.”

  “Did you hear that, Kay? He rates his horse above his closest friend.”

  “I heard it,” she called from beneath the sheets. “I can only imagine where I rank on his list of companions.”

  “See! Even Kay takes exception to that slight,” Alex admonished in wounded tones. “Perhaps it wasn’t a poacher at all, but an acquaintance of yours, suffering from some grave insult. After all I was riding your horse. It makes sense he thought I was you.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Hunter said dryly. “It was probably an accident, or, a disgruntled husband out for your blood.”

  “You’re not going to go on about that again, are you? I had no idea she was married. It serves me right for trusting the English.”

  Hunter laughed uproariously over that. “What the deuced does that mean? I’m English, you bloody ass.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Go and have some breakfast. By the time I join you, perhaps you’ll have calmed down enough to tell me what actually happened.”

  “I am calm,” Alex said in a tone that proved he wasn’t. “Have you ever known me not to be calm? Forget it! Don’t answer that.”

  A moment later Kay heard the door close.

  A playful smack on her bottom told her it was safe to emerge.

  “Ouch! You two bicker like a pair of old women. Remind me not to call either of you in a crisis.” She flashed a saucy smile. “And in the future, I’ll thank you not to abuse my posterior so.” She sat up rubbing the offended part. “Do you really think a poacher shot at Alex? What if it wasn’t a poacher?”

  “The only way we’ll know is if he tries again.”

  Kay didn’t like the sound of that, especially since Alex thought the bullet had been intended for Hunter. She drew her knees up under her chin and clutched the sheet tighter, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth.

  Hunter climbed from the bed, tossing over his shoulder. “Don’t look so glum, Gorgeous. If our mysterious shooter finds his target, you’ll be a very rich widow.”

  “But I don’t want to be a rich widow! I want…” When she realized what she was about to say, she clamped her mouth shut.

  Having finished buttoning up his buckskins, Hunter strode around the bed to retrieve a clean shirt from the wardrobe. Then he walked slowly toward her buttoning his shirt. “What, Kay? What do you want?”

  Her mouth went dry.

  She wished the bed might swallow her up.

  What a fool she was. He didn’t want a wife. He’d made that perfectly clear. She shook her head then turned her head. “Nothing.”

  When he’d gone, she stared at the closed door and whispered, “You. All I want is you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Are you certain, Carter?”

  “As sure as I can be, Your Grace. It was one of the grooms from Windamire who brung the message. And that’s what he said. I’m not mistaken about that.”

  “Thank you, Carter.” Kay led Storm into the stall. After giving her a handful of oats, she began brushing her down. What was Charlie doing here? He was supposed to be at Oxford.

  Unless he’d up and quit? That would account for this mysterious meeting. If he had left school, he wouldn’t want anyone to know he was here until he’d had a chance to speak to his father. Of course, Charlie loved intrigue of any kind so it was hard to say what he was up to.

  Well, there was nothing to be done, except go. She needed to put her mind at ease. Once she did, she would see that he returned to Oxford at once. His future depended on it. If he’d feared being disinherited before, this would certainly seal his fate. What was he thinking?

  The tricky part would be getting there without Hunter finding out. If he knew she was going to meet Charlie, the old accusations would start again. The closeness of their fragile relationship would be shaken. She couldn’t bear to have him look at her that way again.

  A drizzling rain fell as she emerged from the stable. It would be a long nasty ride to the hunting lodge, but she had little choice. She had to see Charlie. The last thing she wanted was him stirring up trouble. Hopefully she’d be able to convince him how happy she was and there was no need for gallant measures on her behalf.

  She took the road, urging her mare to a gallop. Only a few hours before she was expected back at the manor. She’d have to talk fast. There was no time for flowery speeches, just the plain and simple truth. She’d tell him everything, except the eventual separation. Better he didn’t know the marriage was a farce. She didn’t want to give him false hope, or any reason for remorse. All he needed to know was that she was happy.

  A mile past the manor, she took the path north through the woods. The smudge of clouds and the umbrella of elms made for a dreary dark ride, but she knew the path well and found her way without mishap. She and Charlie had met here often to escape Phelia’s company and the prying eyes of servants. They spent many a lazy day, fishing in the small lake and wandering about, exploring every rock and tree. Since the manor was deserted, they’d never thought of it as trespassing.

  As she rode into the clearing, she spotted the lake and the tiny cabin by the shore. Rain drops dimpled the gray still water and dripped off the eves of the cabin. It appeared lonely in the gloom.

  Her hands cramped stiff with cold by the time she dismounted by the small lean-to that served as a stable. Dampness oozed clear through to her bones. If there was any wood inside, she’d have Charlie build a fire.

  She tied Storm beside the black gelding, then hurried round the cabin to the door. When she pushed it opened, it gave a loud creaking moan. Cobwebs clung to the windows. It smelled of mold and dust and other damp odors too unpleasant to contemplate.

  “Charlie, are you there?”

  Silence

  All was dark and still.

  Where was he? That had to be his horse outside, so he couldn’t be far. Perhaps he’d gone to find wood for a fire. She closed the door, wrinkling her nose in distaste. It didn’t look as though Hunter had used the cabin since he’d come home, or even set foot in it for that matter. The sturdy oak chairs by the fire were covered in dust, the small wooden table by the window littered with mouse turds. The door to the bedchamber stood ajar.

  A sound drew her forward.

  Cautiously she pushed opened the door. “Charlie?”

  A male figure stood by the small window. But the room was so dark she couldn’t determine his features. One thing was certain, it wasn’t Charlie.

  Her heart picked up speed.

  She took a step back.

  When Herrington spoke, she knew him at once. “I wondered if you’d come.”

  “Of course I came. I thought it was Charlie.” Tiny prickl
es dashed over her skin. “That day at the market—‘twas you who sent me the message.”

  “Yes,” he said, his intent gaze piercing her through the gloom. “I’m sorry. It was not my intention to lure you here under false pretenses.”

  Little prickles dashed up her spine to her scalp. “Indeed, sir, but that is exactly what you’ve done.” She turned on her heel to vacate the room—to get away from him as fast as she could. Whatever reason he had to meet her alone, it could not be good.

  His hand captured her arm just as she reached the cabin door. “Wait. At least listen to what I have to say.”

  Her heart thumped loud in her ears. “Very well,” she said, passing her tongue between her dry lips, “If you’ll step outside in the light of day where I might assure myself of your sincerity.”

  For a moment she feared he might not comply, then, he nodded. He dropped his hand from her arm, indicating with the other that she should lead the way.

  She breathed again.

  Once over the threshold, she strode directly to Storm, feeling safer once the horse’s reins were in her hand. “What is it that you want?”

  “Phelia told me how unhappy you are.” His face appeared strained in the dappled light. His voice grew urgent. “I’ve come to tell you that I want to help.”

  “Unhappy?” Kay forced a light laugh. “I’m afraid Phelia is mistaken.” Phelia. That traitorous tart would do anything to get at Hunter, it seemed.

  “I don’t think so.” He captured her hand in his, brown eyes gazing down at her, oozing sympathy, or was it lust. “I know that he forced you to marry him.” He squeezed her hand painfully. “But I can help you.” His tone grew feverish. “Come away with me. I’ll show you the kindness and love you deserve—give you everything you want.”