Her Wicked Proposal: The League of Rogues, Book 3

by Lauren Smith

  “I want you to sleep, Anne. You need to rest to get well. Shall I have Hartley bring you a sleeping draught?” He started to rise, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  Anne sat up, exposing herself to his blind gaze, water sloshing over the sides of the tub. “No.”

  “Easy, easy. I would not force it on you. I know better than that.”

  Anne sensed his comment came from a past experience, but she couldn’t seem to remember the details.

  “May I suggest another method?” Cedric was grinning as his hands on her shoulders slid down to the pebbled nipples of her wet breasts.

  She gasped, startled by his boldness. He pulled her down and pressed her toward him so she lay back in the tub. He kissed her throat, nibbling at the sensitive spot below her ear that sent a flurry of pleasurable chills down her spine.

  “Is this acceptable, Anne?” he whispered as he caressed and cupped her breasts. Anne nodded, sighing as one of his hands glided over her ribs and down her belly to the apex of her thighs. The sensation of his hands on her body, the tender way he manipulated her, stroking, caressing, leaving a fire in the way of each brushing touch, was nothing short of erotic. Every part of her was attuned to his touch, like a pianoforte’s keys warmed by the player’s hands, ready to create music.

  His voice was silky as a spider’s web and evanescent as midnight as he pressed onward, entering her folds with a gentle finger. “And this? May I touch you here?” She’d never thought she’d want a man to touch her there, to enter her body, even with his fingers, but with Cedric it wasn’t enough, she wanted to connect to him every way she could.

  He played with her, stroking, flicking, advancing, then withdrawing. His finger was large, and her body clasped tight around it, and when she unconsciously clenched her inner muscles around him, he answered her with a low animal growl. The sound vibrated across her body and she arched her hips up, trying to push his finger deeper.

  “Yes, touch me, please.” Desperation and hunger for him gnawed at her bone deep.

  “Let me kiss you, Anne, darling. Surrender yourself to me.” His voice was hypnotic. Each word made her want to agree to anything he asked.

  Cedric took her lips with his, his mouth teasing and seductive. His tongue thrust inside at the same time he slid two fingers into her, filling her. Anne arched in the tub, water slapping over the sides. Cedric deepened the kiss further, his fingers increased their steady rhythm, and Anne moved her hips, trying to satisfy the need for something she couldn’t vocalize. When Cedric’s thumb passed over her bundle of nerves she whimpered in pleasure. He repeated the action, still pumping his fingers, and in a matter of seconds she was panting and white-knuckled, clinging to the tub’s edge.

  “Not yet, my heart, I wish to exhaust you properly.”

  Cedric backed off on his movements and resumed his leisurely caresses.

  She snared one of his wrists and forced it back down between her legs. “Please, Cedric. I need you.”

  “You need me?” Shock layered his tone, and it made her ache to think he couldn’t believe her.

  “More than anything.”

  Cedric groaned as though her words had undone him. He captured her mouth with his and began his stroking again. Anne’s body shot straight back to that heightened awareness and craving for pleasure. In moments she shattered beneath his touch, aftershocks of pleasure rippling through her, making her feel weak and heavy like a mountain of immovable stones. His harsh breath against her ear told her he had been aroused as much as she was. They were connecting, even if it was in small steps.

  We can do this. We can make this marriage work and be happy together.

  She had to make it work. The thought of losing Cedric, or giving him up, was impossible.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cedric kissed Anne’s forehead, taking pride in having weakened his woman’s resolve. He felt like a conqueror of old, having taken his woman and sated her. He’d denied his own in return, but there had been a wonderful heat inside him at feeling her come apart in his arms. She was far less inhibited than before. He had to fight off the waves of lust that demanded he claim her completely.

  He stole another kiss from her lips. “I love it when you melt into me like that.” He nipped her bottom lip, feeling playful and yet relaxed. Anne responded with a fatigued sigh and slid lower into the tub, no doubt too exhausted to stay upright.

  “I think it’s time we got out you of there, love.”

  “So soon?”

  Cedric lifted her to her feet and began to dry her off. Anne didn’t even feign a protest. He took his time, drying every lickable inch of her. When he returned her to his bed, he helped her don her nightgown and reset the sling for her arm. Exhaustion claimed Anne, and she put up no resistance when he tucked her into his bed. He stroked back her hair and joined her beneath the sheets, tucking her into his side.

  “My darling Anne,” he said, and for the thousandth time he wished he could see her. Did her guard relax in her sleep?

  Anne burrowed against him, her hands balled up and tucked against his ribs, her head resting in the crook between his arm and chest. Cedric couldn’t believe how full his life felt at that moment. How much he loved holding this woman close, her familiar scent all around him, knowing she was his, now and always.

  Cedric dozed on and off for the next half hour until Hartley arrived with soup and tea. Reluctant to leave Anne’s side, he eased out of the bed and woke her up with a smattering of kisses.

  “Food is here, and I have things to attend to. If you need me, send Hartley to fetch me.”

  Anne rolled over onto her back, cupping his face in her hand, stealing a final kiss. The fact that she had initiated the moment stole his breath. He wanted nothing more than to topple her back into bed and make love to her until neither of them could walk.

  “May I go to Brighton in a few days?”

  Cedric frowned. “Only if you feel up to it. Hartley must go with you. I don’t wish for you to be alone and unprotected.”

  “Unprotected? Is there a reason I should be concerned?”

  Cedric felt Anne sit up and catch hold of his arms.

  “It may be nothing, but do you remember last Christmas when I lost my sight?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t.”

  “Well, the accident was not so much an accident, but rather an attempt on my life, and that of my sister. Ashton was also shot by someone last year, and we believe it is all connected. He’s no doubt been watching all of us, but since your accident, I worry that you might be weakened for a time. If noticed, he might take advantage of that weakness somehow.”

  “But who would want to kill you?”

  Cedric laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Plenty of men want me dead, but few would ever attempt it. And only one man has vowed to kill me and the other members of the League. Hugo Waverly.”

  “Sir Hugo Waverly? I know that name. Somehow I know it.”

  Cedric’s hands curled into fists. “Yes. He swore to see us all dead, and his attempt on Horatia’s life also resulted in my blindness.”

  “How?”

  “A fire had been set in the gardener’s cottage, and as I was being rescued a beam fell on me. The impact blinded me and turned me into this clumsy, stumbling creature.”

  “Oh, Cedric.” Anne’s voice was impossibly soft. He flinched as her hands wound around his neck, but he relaxed when she began to kiss his jaw and cheeks. His arms circled around her waist, holding her briefly against him before he released her.

  “So you will promise me you will take Hartley with you whenever you leave this house? Even on my land you may not be safe. Waverly’s hired assassin stole Horatia from her own bedchamber.” He’d almost lost his best friend and his sister to that monster. He would not lose Anne too. Even now he had himself questioning whether her injuries had truly been from an acciden
tal fall, or if something far more sinister had been interrupted.

  Anne patted his chest with a tender hand. “I promise. I’m no fool. And I don’t want you to ever worry about me.”

  “Thank heavens for that. It seems most of the women in my life are determined to gray my hair before I reach forty.” He curled his hand around hers and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. “I really must go. Get some rest, my heart.”

  Cedric left Anne and went hunting for Ashton. He found his friend in the library after making inquiries to a passing footman.

  “Ash?” Cedric entered the library, listening for the familiar crinkle of a newspaper being folded. Ashton was nothing if not a creature of habit.

  “On the settee,” Ash supplied.

  Cedric navigated the room, avoiding chairs and bookshelves to find his friend.

  “How fares your lady?” Ashton asked, his usually serious tone now sprinkled with a hint of amusement.

  Cedric grinned in spite of himself. “Resting after a bath.” After such a powerful climax Anne would need to rest for a few hours.

  “I’m glad to hear it. I was worried that you two might have quarreled after the lake.”

  “Nonsense. I’m blind. She has no memory. It’s practically impossible to find anything decent to quarrel about.”

  “Good, good.” Ash sounded oddly distracted. Cedric cocked his head, pondering his friend’s tone. There was something amiss, and it bothered him that he could not read Ashton’s face the way he used to.

  “You have never been one to hide your concerns, Ash. Pray, what weighs so heavily on your mind?”

  “It’s about Waverly.”

  “Hugo?” To think he’d just been warning Anne about the man.

  “Is there any other Waverly who causes us so much grief?”

  “Well, what about him?” Cedric patted around until he found a wingback chair facing the settee. “You haven’t had word about him, have you?”

  “No, but we should be doing something about him. The attack on you and Lucien during Christmas, and the bullet that tore through my arm were not accidents.”

  “Of course, but we cannot prove Waverly was behind them,” Cedric reminded him.

  “I think the drowned cat at Charles’s house was a clear enough signature, don’t you?”

  Cedric frowned. That had indeed made things clear, not only of the architect, but the motives behind his actions. Hugo’s intent was destruction, but his motivation was revenge. It seemed the League’s past sins were at last coming back to haunt them.

  “I know, I know. But no one outside the League would understand.” Cedric slumped back in his chair as though the weight of decades of worry had settled on his shoulders. “I just warned Anne not to leave the residence unattended because of him. What would you advise we do, other than be vigilant?”

  “That is the problem. I haven’t the faintest idea.”

  Ashton was as much of a strategist as Cedric, and to not have any idea how to handle a situation was unsettling.

  “I’ve been preoccupied of late, and Waverly’s involvement in these attacks has been so concealed that I have had little to go on in the way of evidence. One cannot go to a magistrate purely with one’s instincts and vague connections. To make matters worse, Waverly has left London again. I believe he is preparing for whatever he has planned next.”

  “If only we knew which one of us he means to target.” Cedric let out an exasperated sigh.

  “Unfortunately, there is no way to know. I always believed that Charles would be his true target, but it seems he means to do away with all of us.”

  “Over what happened to Peter? That sin isn’t on our hands alone.”

  “No, but he holds us responsible.”

  “What the devil is wrong with that man that he can’t let his grudges go?” Cedric muttered.

  “You know it’s more than that. It has everything to do with Charles’s and Hugo’s fathers. The two were cousins, if you recall, with much bad blood between them. Our interference on Charles’s behalf put us on the funeral pyre with him. And losing Peter in the river only gave him more wood to burn.” Aston shifted in his chair as though restless.

  “I would not change a second of that night. I would dive in after Charles again.”

  “As would I. But I wish…” A long moment of tense silence followed as both men were plagued by dark memories of how they had saved one, but failed another.

  “How is Charles?” Cedric hadn’t spent much time with him in recent months. The man was far too fond of pulling pranks in the hopes of lightening Cedric’s mood, which almost always backfired.

  Ashton sighed. “He still has the nightmares, but he’s been better recently. That doesn’t stop me from worrying about him, though.”

  “You think you can cure him of his nightmares?”

  “No. At least, not anytime soon. And at the moment I am much too busy trying to deal with Lady Melbourne.”

  “Again we return to Lady Melbourne. Anne told me the night of the opera that you disappeared to a dark alcove with her.” Cedric enjoyed the responding sputter of shock from his usually collected friend.

  “And what did you do with Lady Melbourne in said alcove, hmm?”

  “I…we…that is to say…” Ashton, always so eloquent in speech, was entirely at a loss for words.

  “Oh, quite. I’m sure you and she enjoyed…whatever it was.” Cedric couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face.

  Ashton recovered himself and properly responded. “I was negotiating with her.”

  “Negotiating? Is that what they are calling it nowadays?” Cedric was fighting every urge to laugh.

  “I thought a bit of physical persuasion was the wisest course of action,” Ashton argued, but there was a breathless tone to his voice. If Cedric didn’t know better, he’d swear the man was embarrassed about something. “She has a bit more…fight in her than I realized. I have to find a way to stop her antics from destroying my shipping lines. Extreme measures may be necessary.”

  Cedric sobered slightly. “You always were the coldest seducer of us all.”

  It was the truth. Ashton had been the only one among the five original members of the League who never lost control, who never let his passions rule him. In the wake of his calculating seductions he’d left countless victims. Almost all of his conquests had been related to his successes in the business world. One night he would bed an opera singer who was mistress to a shipyard owner. The next night he was pinning the daughter of a banker to a wall just off an assembly hall, persuading her to reveal her father’s secrets. Ashton could be completely ruthless.

  “Yes, well, a leopard cannot change its spots,” Ashton muttered.

  Cedric crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you so sure? Godric and Lucien have proved that saying false.”

  Ashton was silent a long while.

  “Some men are fated to be fortunate. I don’t count myself among them.”

  “Damn the Fates, Ash. Make your own luck. Look at me and Anne. Against all odds we are stumbling our way toward happiness. Who’s to say you can’t do the same?”

  Ashton let out a loud, amused laugh. “Marriage suits you, Cedric. It truly does. Now, off you go. Find that wife of yours and give Lucien some competition on the begetting of heirs.”

  It was Cedric’s turn to laugh. “Only you could phrase that so indelicately as to make me sound like a prized stud.” Cedric got to his feet, retrieved his cane and headed for the door. It was time to go to his study and have his steward assist him with some letters. Then, once he finished his business, he would find his wife and surrender his self-control. He wanted to make love to her, regardless of whether she remembered him; he wanted to love her, to seduce her into loving him. If that made him a villain, then so be it. He was a rogue, after all.

  * * * * *

&
nbsp; Anne’s maid finished fastening her gold-colored day gown and threaded a few more pins into the tumble of curls atop her head.

  “There you are, milady. It looks lovely.”

  “Thank you, Becca.”

  “Will you be needing anything else?” the woman asked, her cap-covered head bowed respectfully.

  “Actually, I was wondering if I might be shown to the library. I shall wait there until dinner.”

  Becca bobbed a curtsy and led Anne down the stairs and to the library.

  The room was beautiful. Gilded chairs and tables were littered with books, but the books, she noted, were layered with dust. There was a distinct impression of someone having been here once, a long time ago. Someone who loved to read. Anne caught the cover of the nearest heavy tome and turned it over. The gilt lettering read A History of the English Monarchy. Anne knew that Cedric had never opened this book, and it wasn’t like he’d opened any of the others. He hadn’t been one for reading, even before the accident.

  This quiet scene glowing in the afternoon sun felt like a memorial to someone long gone. Could it be that Cedric’s parents had nestled in these very chairs, turning pages with interest? Anne’s throat constricted at the thought of Cedric leaving the books out. Had he been unable to put them away? Did he want to feel that his parents might come back at any moment? Or was it merely that he never came to this room and the servants didn’t have the heart to put them away?

  “If you are looking for something to read, Lady Sheridan, might I suggest this?”

  Anne turned to find herself face-to-face with the tall, pale-haired Lord Lennox. She took the small volume he held out to her.

  “Lady Briana and the Troubled Viscount?” Was the title his way of communicating with her?

  “Cedric is one of the finest men I have ever known,” Lord Lennox said.

  Anne was bespelled by the light in his vivid blue eyes. In a sudden flash, she pictured Ashton bare-chested with a bloody shoulder wound, his features etched with lines of excruciating pain. Anne’s head spun and she wavered on her feet. Ashton caught her by the waist, steadying her.