The Rogue Is Back in Town

by Anna Bennett

  It was a small box, wrapped in pretty red paper and tied with string.

  And underneath the string was a folded note—with her name carefully written on the outside.

  Her mouth went dry. It appeared to be a present. From Nigel.

  She removed the note and pushed the curtain aside so she could read by the light of the lantern that hung on the outside of the carriage.

  My dearest Juliette,

  Please accept this small token of my affection, and know that even when I am not with you, I think of you and live for the day when next we meet.

  Faithfully yours,

  Nigel

  With trembling fingers, she turned the package over in her hands. If she accepted the gift, Nigel might erroneously assume that she was agreeing to the terms of his offer. And though he hadn’t explicitly stated those terms, they could not have been clearer.

  Nigel would allow her uncle to remain in his home if she would further her acquaintance with the marquess … in private. And though he claimed he would be satisfied with a platonic relationship, he would subtly—and sometimes not so subtly—pressure her for more.

  Which meant he wanted her to be his mistress.

  She slipped the string off the box and unwrapped it, revealing a pink velvet case. Slowly, she opened the hinged lid, revealing a jewel encrusted, crescent-shaped pendant suspended from a gold chain. Another, smaller note was tucked inside the lid.

  I adore the way your eyes sparkle in moonlight. —N.

  The necklace was beautiful, and the note was the romantic sort she had desperately wished for after their kiss at the masquerade ball.

  But she no longer harbored illusions about Nigel. His impeccable manners and extravagant gifts couldn’t hide the ruthless man who lurked beneath the polished veneer.

  As the carriage slowed, Julie tucked both notes into her reticule and steeled her resolve.

  Let Nigel do his worst.

  He could threaten to throw her and her uncle out of their home.

  He could even attempt to blackmail her by revealing that his brother Sam—an unrepentant rogue—was living under the same roof as she.

  She may be the youngest of the Wilting Wallflowers, but she would be no man’s mistress.

  When a footman opened the cab door, she alighted the coach with her head held high, and glided up the walkway to her uncle’s townhouse. She didn’t mind the crooked shutter or the chipped paint. It was home.

  “Forgive me, miss,” the footman called out. She turned to see him holding the pink velvet box in an outstretched hand. “You left this on the seat.”

  “Yes,” she said in the most regal tone she could muster. “I did.”

  With that, she climbed the cracked front steps and went inside.

  Chapter TWENTY-FIVE

  Sam woke with a start and blinked at the cozy, dimly lit bedchamber. Jesus, he’d fallen asleep in an armchair after his second brandy, apparently exhausted after his tame evening of playing chess and—after Alistair had retired for the night—searching the study.

  Sam had hoped that by the time Juliette returned home, he’d be able to surprise her with good news—like a bill of sale or lease proving her uncle had the right to remain in his home.

  But all he’d found were more letters from Alistair’s friends and acquaintances—many pertaining to his study of the Thames. There were notes from ship captains about the depth of the water at various points and letters from fishermen about their catches of the day. Sam had tossed them all into a box, in case they proved useful at some point … though it seemed distinctly unlikely.

  So he’d retreated to his guest bedchamber, closed his eyes for a few moments, and let thoughts of Juliette fill his head. The memory of the night on the settee haunted him—in the best of ways. Her soft sighs of pleasure, the satin feel of her skin beneath his palms, the glow of her eyes, dark with desire. He’d committed every perfect detail to memory.

  A knock, soft but insistent, sounded at the door.

  A glance at the clock revealed it was past midnight.

  Juliette must have come home … and come for him.

  Instantly alert, he pushed himself out of the chair, opened the door, and drank in the sight of her. God, she was beautiful. Curls framed her face as she looked up at him from beneath sooty lashes.

  He leaned a shoulder on the doorjamb and crossed his arms. “So, you missed me after all?”

  “How dare you.” She jabbed a finger at his chest as she angled through the doorway into his room. Her clenched hands and rosy cheeks told him her anger was about more than his quip.

  “What have I done now?” Searching his mind, he closed the door behind her so they wouldn’t wake Alistair.

  She planted her hands on her hips. “You came here to spy on me. I confided in you—told you my hopes and fears regarding my uncle—and you have reported everything back to your brother.”

  He blinked. “I don’t know what Nigel told you, but my only communication with him has been at your behest. I asked him to provide the deed and to give you time. I thought that was what you wanted me to do.”

  She snorted. “Do not pretend that you are here to help me. You have no regard for my wishes.”

  Clearly, Nigel had made Sam out to be the villain … which was not exactly a stretch. “That’s not true,” he said earnestly. “I want you to be happy.”

  “Forgive me,” she said dryly, “but your actions belie your words.”

  “How have I betrayed you, Juliette? Tell me.”

  She spun on him. “You bullied your way into this house. You insisted on staying here, when what I wanted you to do was leave.”

  “I didn’t know you then.”

  “But you do now.”

  “Do you want me to leave?”

  She sank into the armchair he’d recently occupied and pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

  He sat on a footstool opposite her and propped his elbows on his knees. “I take it the dinner party was a disappointment?”

  She hesitated, just long enough to make the embers of jealousy spark to life inside him. Nigel was everything Sam wasn’t—and he was clearly smitten with Juliette.

  “The evening didn’t unfold as I expected, but I did receive some answers.”

  Sam searched her face. “Will my brother sell the house to you?”

  “He named his price,” she said evenly.

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure your brothers-in-law will pay it. I would gladly buy it for you myself if I could.”

  Her gaze flicked to his, grateful. Then the box of Alistair’s letters he’d collected earlier caught her eye. “What is that?”

  “More of your uncle’s letters and notes that may relate to river-water samples. I planned to peruse them here but fell asleep.”

  She looked at him with an odd combination of surprise, amusement, and … affection? “You don’t actually have to become my uncle’s research assistant, you know,” she said. “You’re simply playing a part to explain your presence here.”

  “True. But as long as I’m playing the part, I may as well make myself useful.” Besides, he wasn’t entirely certain he was playing a part any longer. He liked Alistair. Not in spite of his poignant stories, peculiar foibles, and devotion to his late wife … but because of all those things. The old man might be mad as a hatter, but he was also wise—and kind.

  “I think my uncle is growing quite fond of you,” she said. “I must remind myself not to be jealous of the quick bond you’ve forged.”

  Sam chuckled. “If he’s fond of me it’s because we sneak cigars when you’re out. But never fear, you hold the highest place in his heart—and I’m certain you always will.”

  She gave him a wobbly smile that made his chest squeeze. “How did we land in such a mess?” she asked. “And how will we ever manage to crawl out?”

  “Together.” He took her hand, uncurled her fingers, and placed a kiss on her palm. “We will crawl out of this mess toget
her.”

  “I don’t see how,” she said bleakly. “My reputation will soon be in tatters, casting a pall over my sisters’ newfound happiness. My uncle shall be forced to leave his beloved home, and I’m no closer to improving his standing in the scientific community, much less gaining his acceptance in the highest social circles.”

  It gutted him to see her so forlorn. He’d come here at Nigel’s request in an attempt to heal the rift between them. But he couldn’t hurt Juliette in the process. He’d have to find another way to reconcile with his brother.

  “When I arrived on your doorstep, you were a stranger. Someone who stood in my brother’s path—and mine. But then I witnessed how fiercely you protect your uncle and how he beams with pride each time you walk into the room. I realized how much this house means to you both and witnessed how loyal you are to the people you love. Sometime in the last few days—after I hid behind your settee and before I first kissed you—I began to care for you. A hell of a lot more than I have a right to. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, so…”

  She tilted her head, touched and confused. “What are you saying, Sam?”

  “I’ll leave tomorrow. The only one who knows I’m here is Nigel, and he would never breathe a word of it. Your reputation will remain intact. As for the house, I will do what I can to convince my brother to allow you and your uncle to remain here … or at least sell it to you for a pittance.”

  She stared at him for the space of several heartbeats, her beautiful eyes shining with unshed tears. “You would do that for me? What of your promise to your brother?”

  Sam had asked himself the same thing. “He’s the only family I have left. My father always hoped Nigel and I would be brothers in the truest sense, supporting one another through life’s trials and sharing in each other’s joys and successes. He wanted our future children—his grandchildren—to grow up together, understanding what it means to be a family. A genuine family, like the one you, your sisters, and your uncle have. That’s what I wanted too.”

  She swallowed. “But you would turn away from your duty to Nigel … for me?”

  “Damn it, Juliette. If pleasing Nigel means hurting you, it’s no contest. If I must choose between him and you … I choose you.”

  * * *

  Julie let Sam’s words seep into her skin and warm her. He chose her.

  He’d answered his bedroom door wearing only a shirt and trousers, and the shirt … well, it was more off than on. It hung loosely from his shoulders, untied and untucked, revealing tantalizing glimpses of muscled chest and flat abdomen. His hair looked as though he’d run hands through it, and the hint of a beard darkened his square jaw.

  She was very aware of his thumb brushing her palm, his knees straddling hers, his strength surrounding them like a cocoon.

  And knew she was on the brink of something reckless and foolhardy … thrilling and wonderful.

  “It’s unsettling,” she began slowly, “to realize that everything you thought you knew about a person is wrong.”

  He brought her knuckles to his lips and murmured against them. “How so?”

  Savoring the hot pressure of his mouth, she said, “I thought Nigel’s character was beyond reproach and that he’d defend my honor at any cost. But he proved to be less than a gentleman, while you…” He flicked his tongue over the inside of her wrist, and her nipples tightened deliciously in response. “Your scandalous escapades and rakish behavior are well documented—”

  “And only ninety percent true.” His heavy-lidded blue eyes crinkled at the corners.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “So you say. But the other ten percent of you—the part that is generous and noble and kind—is hidden beneath your roguish exterior. And that unexpected combination of sinner and saint … well, I find it rather irresistible.”

  He slid a hand beneath the hem of her gown and traced a path up the back of her leg, his fingertips teasing her sensitive skin and stoking her desire. “How so, temptress?”

  Her cheeks flamed, but she needed him to know. Suspected he’d understand. “I fear that I’m rather wanton at heart. I’ve tried to follow the rules of propriety—to rein in my passionate side and suppress my improper desires. I’ve done rather well … until recently. When I’m with you, my body doesn’t seem to want to obey my head.”

  He went still and looked at her, his gaze unexpectedly vulnerable. “Only when you’re with me?”

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she said, “You make me hunger for things I’ve never wanted before. When you touch me, I feel as though you—only you—have the power to heal the ache inside me.”

  He growled as his warm palm skimmed over her thigh and squeezed her flesh, sending waves of pleasure through her limbs. “I want nothing more than to please you.”

  “It’s not that simple. We cannot go on like this—with both of us living under the same roof.” Not when a wicked look or a covert brush of his hand melted her knees. It was only a matter of time before the staff or Uncle Alistair noticed how the air crackled between them. “The risk is too great, and I would rather enter a convent than bring shame upon my family—though I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “I wholeheartedly agree,” he said.

  “Given the circumstances,” she said softly, “I think you must leave tomorrow.”

  He deflated slightly, but smiled. “First my brother tossed me out on my ear … now you.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Don’t worry about me,” he scoffed. “I shall be fine.” But Julie noticed he hadn’t answered her question.

  “I may have to find a new residence soon too. Your brother has given me one week to prove my uncle has a right to occupy the house.”

  He shook his head, confounded. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand why my brother is so adamant. I searched your uncle’s study for much of the night but found no bill of sale or lease,” Sam said soberly. “What will you do if you cannot produce the documentation in a week’s time?”

  “I suppose I must consider paying your brother’s price.” She tried to keep her tone light, but a hint of bitterness came through.

  A shadow flicked across his face. “How much does he want?”

  “We are still in negotiations,” she said vaguely, which wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t as though she could admit to Sam that the brother he idolized wished to make her his mistress. “I will delay as long as possible and hope that Beth and Alex return from their honeymoon before Uncle Alistair and I are evicted.”

  Sam’s palm slid to the outside of her thigh, all the way to her hip, and her breath hitched in her throat. “It seems we both face an uncertain future,” he said.

  “Yes. But tonight … tonight is ours,” she breathed. “And to waste it would be a sin.”

  Chapter TWENTY-SIX

  Sam’s eyes turned dark. Hungry. He cradled Julie’s cheek in his hand and brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “Will you stay with me, until dawn?”

  She swallowed as she mentally cataloged everything she had to lose. Her innocence, her virginity, her heart. But she wanted this night with him. Needed it.

  He’d unlocked a part of her she’d denied for too long. He’d reminded her that she was more than a dutiful sister and niece. She was sensuous and bold and free.

  And Sam didn’t think less of her for it. Rather, he respected her.

  “I will stay with you,” she whispered. And she would have this small part of him, forever.

  He reached behind her, pulled the pins from her hair, and tossed them on the floor. Heavy curls cascaded around her shoulders, and Sam wound a thick lock around his finger, staring as though mesmerized. “This is how I will remember you,” he said, tilting her chin so that her gaze met his. “Passionate. Beautiful. Mine.”

  His words thrummed through her body and echoed in her head, obliterating any stubborn trace of self-doubt that remained from her wallflower days. All she had to do was look at Sam, for the proof was in his eyes.

 
He burned for her.

  With a tortured groan, he stood, pulled her to her feet, and hauled her against him. “Here are the rules we shall play by.”

  “This isn’t a game to me, Sam.”

  “Nor to me,” he said, serious. “The rules are to protect you.”

  She bristled slightly. “I don’t need protecting.”

  “I understand. But the rules are still useful.” He swept her hair over her shoulder, bent his head, and kissed a scorching path from her neck to her ear. “Rule number one,” he murmured. “If you want me to stop, you simply say the word.”

  “I know. I trust you.” She sighed blissfully.

  “Rule number two. No hiding.”

  Distracted by the heavenly feel of his hips pressed to hers, she murmured, “What does that mean?”

  “Don’t hide any part of you. Your body, your mind, your desires … they’re all beautiful to me.”

  “And I assume the same applies to you?” she countered. “You will not hide from me?”

  “Never.” As if to demonstrate, he hauled his shirt over his head. Tossed it to the floor.

  God, he was gorgeous. The muscles in his chest and abdomen flexed as he reached for her, and his skin glistened in the dim light of the lamp.

  “Have you any more rules?” she teased.

  “Just one. Tonight is only about us.”

  She frowned. “What else would it be about?”

  “Your family, my family, the gossip rags … the future. But not tonight. There’s no world beyond that door. No one else on earth save you and I.” His fingers drifted from her nape to the base of her spine, and back again. “Understand?”

  “I don’t anticipate you’ll have any trouble keeping my attention.” She could scarcely think of anything but the brush of his fingers over her skin.

  With panther-like grace, he stalked to the door, locked it, and turned the lamp lower. Lean but powerful, he moved with the ease of an athlete. Julie couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  He approached her with a promising, predatory stare and walked behind her, lightly bumping his bare torso to her shoulders. “One of us has too many clothes on,” he grumbled.