Rogues to Lovers: Legend of the Blue Rose

by Laurel O'Donnell

  She tentatively stepped out onto the ice and held her breath. When the ice beneath her feet didn’t shatter, she let the air out of her lungs in relief. She was walking on the Thames!

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to a massive slab of stone at the river’s edge. Words were carved on it.

  Martin read the inscription:

  Behold the liquid Thames now frozen o’er

  That lately Ships of mighty Burthen bore.

  The Watermen for want of Rowing Boats

  Make use of Booths to get their Pence & Groat

  Here you may see Beef Roasted on a spit.

  And for your Money you may taste a bit.

  There you may print your Name, tho’ cannot write,

  Cause num’d with Cold: ’Tis done with great Delight.

  And lay it by, that Ages yet to come

  May see what Things upon the Ice were done.

  “It’s from the last fair in 1814,” he added. He kept an arm around her waist, holding her as they walked carefully over the slick ice to a strip of sand that formed a pathway toward the small town built upon the river.

  A group of men stood at the edge of the ice city, and the leader held up a hand to Martin. They were dressed a little rough and a tad dingy.

  “Ten shillings for you and the lady.” The man held out a box with a slot in the top to collect coins.

  “Of course. Here you are. Which stalls have the best cider and beer?” Martin asked as he paid the man, and the group stepped back to allow Livvy and Martin to pass.

  The man in charge of the money smiled and pointed at a stand in the middle of the first row of set up shops. “That’d be O’Malley’s Pub. Decent fellow, even if he is Irish. Best beer on the Thames.”

  “Thank you.” Martin nodded at the men as they passed.

  “Why did you pay them?” Livvy asked with a glance back at the men who were still guarding the entrance to the frost fair.

  “Those are watermen. They usually make a living transporting people up and down the Thames, and they help the lightermen who move the goods. When the river freezes over, they lose the ability to make a living. They are in charge of the fair. All these traders here you see have paid to build stalls.” Martin pointed as they walked down the sand-and-ice avenue. Leather makers, jewelers, and even temporary pubs were all there on the ice. They were getting close to Blackfriars Bridge when a monstrous gray shape appeared at the edge of the bank of the river.

  “What’s that?” Livvy pointed at the shape. As they got closer, she almost laughed as she recognized it, although she was convinced she had to be dreaming.

  “An elephant! It must have come from the zoo. My God, look at it.” A boyish look of wonder and delight shone upon his face, and Livvy’s heart skipped a beat. This was the Martin she wanted to be with, the man who made her feel like she still had a future to be courted and loved and destined for a happy life.

  “Come on. They’re going to have it walk upon the ice!” Martin tugged her by the hand as they raced like children for the elephant and the crowd watching it. The huge, beautiful creature was marching proudly over the ice. An Indian man in colorful clothing was smiling and encouraging the elephant to keep walking. It was one of the most magnificent things Livvy had ever seen. Her eyes burned with tears as she watched the elephant lift its trunk and touch its handler’s shoulder with affection.

  “Could we get closer?” Livvy asked Martin.

  “I suppose so. This way.” He led her toward the crowd until they were only half a dozen feet away.

  “Sir!” Martin called out to the man leading the elephant.

  The man turned their way, smiling a little he patted the elephant’s trunk. “Yes?”

  “May we come closer? My…” Martin glanced at her. “My wife would like to see your magnificent beast up close.”

  “Would she?” The man’s smile broadened. “Come, come, madam.” He waved Livvy closer.

  She approached, spellbound by the leathery gray-skinned creature. It gazed down at her, ears flopping slowly as it raised its trunk in an inquisitive way and swayed slightly on its feet.

  “May I touch it?” she asked the man.

  “Yes, yes, please.” The man held out his hand to Livvy, and she came closer, only a foot away from the elephant. The elephant’s trunk touched her cloaked shoulder, and she reached up, removing her gloves so she could touch it. The skin was leathery like it appeared, yet it was also softer than she expected and covered with fine hairs. She laughed in delight when she shook the trunk the way she would someone’s hand in greeting.

  “Oh look, Martin!” she called out. He was watching her from a few feet away. “Come and touch him. He’s wonderful.”

  Martin shook his head. “I think I’m close enough. I saw one of these in Africa during my time in Egypt. They aren’t native to Egypt, but some gentleman of my acquaintance had insisted on them being brought there. There was one bull elephant, gigantic fellow, and he grew angry at being dragged through the sands and stomped on a man, crushing him to death.”

  Livvy eyed the gentle giant beside her and sighed. “Martin, I can see his eyes. They’re so noble and full of peace. He won’t hurt you.” Livvy patted the elephant, and he flapped his ears slowly as if in agreement.

  “He’s an awfully big fellow and—” Martin hedged.

  “Martin, if you come over here right now, I will come to you tonight.” She made her tone quiet but very clear.

  His eyes widened. “What, tonight?”

  “Yes.” She’d made the decision earlier that day when she’d seen him at breakfast. She wanted to find the man she laughed with, shopped with, swapped books with.

  “If I touch an elephant…” He cleared his throat. “Then…”

  “Yes,” she repeated. “Now stop being so frightened.”

  Martin approached her and the beast, eyeing the elephant nervously.

  “Elephants are gentle,” the Indian handler assured him.

  “My experience tells me otherwise,” Martin muttered. He put an arm around Livvy’s waist, and with the other hand, he touched the elephant’s trunk. He tensed when the elephant swayed again and made a soft trumpetlike sound.

  “Take off your glove,” Livvy encouraged. When he did, the elephant lightly tapped his shoulder. The Indian man handed him a peach.

  “Give him this.”

  Martin accepted the peach and held it up. The elephant deftly plucked the fruit from his palm, lifted it to its mouth, and ate it in seemingly one bite.

  “Isn’t he the grandest thing you’ve ever seen?” Livvy pressed her cheek to Martin’s shoulder. She’d made him conquer his fear, and she was glad. He had done it for her.

  “He certainly is.” Martin patted the elephant’s front leg, and then he and Livvy stepped back to allow the handler to take charge of the elephant. Martin paid the handler a few coins for his patience.

  “Shall we go have a drink?” Martin offered.

  “Yes, please.” Livvy waved goodbye to the handler as they pushed back into the crowd. When they found a pub on the ice, Martin order two pints of ale and handed her one.

  “Drink it slowly,” he cautioned.

  She sipped and made a face. The bitter taste was not to her liking. She much preferred wine or sherry.

  “Not for you, eh?” He chuckled. “I’ll drink it then.” He waved one of the barmen down. “A glass of wine for the lady.”

  Martin carried his two pints to a small table, and Livvy sat beside him. They drank in pleasant silence while watching the crowds and the games being played out on the ice. The frost fair was truly amazing.

  “Can you believe this hasn’t happened since 1814? There have been times where part of the river has frozen, but never so much that it was safe enough to walk on.”

  She leaned against him. “Why doesn’t it happen more often?”

  “It has to do with the speed of the river flow and the depth. Shallow rivers freeze more frequently. The king has been improving the
waterways by deepening the river. It won’t freeze easily now.”

  “What a pity,” she sighed. “I find this quite magical.”

  “As do I, but magic always fades in the wake of progress.”

  They both fell into a quiet silence as they finished their drinks and observed the fair around them. Livvy wanted it to last for hours. She noticed a large dancing area where a group of men were playing a few violins and people were twirling to a jig.

  “May we dance?” She’d always loved dancing, loved the way it felt to fly in the arms of a handsome partner. She had attended only two balls this year, but each one had been breathtaking.

  “I suppose we could.” Martin finished his second pint and stood. He offered a gloved hand, and she accepted.

  When they reached the dancing area, they found the ice covered with a layer of sand, just as the walkways had been.

  “Be careful,” he cautioned as they joined the other couples queueing up in a line to dance. The musicians started up a lively tune, and the couples facing each other took turns dancing down the row, then they all broke apart to dance in pairs of wide circles. Livvy giggled as she and Martin twirled about, doing their best not to slip on the ice.

  After three dances, Livvy was flushed and panting, her corset sitting a little too tight.

  “Let’s rest for a bit.” Martin led her away from the dancers and walked down a row of impromptu shops. They paused at a stall selling canes.

  “Oh, these are lovely, Martin. Do you have a cane?”

  “No, but I don’t have need of one.” She was aware of that, but a man with a cane was, well, distinguished.

  “I think you would look very dashing with one,” she said as she went to the shopkeeper who lingered close by, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

  “Dashing? Trying to make me the hero one of your Gothic novels?” he teased. She grinned cheekily.

  “Perhaps. I admit, I do love a darkly handsome man with a brooding face who brandishes a cane.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m far from darkly handsome.” He pointed to the golden hair that shone in the bright winter light.

  “Agreed. More of a fallen angel, perhaps.”

  “Angel? Bah!” he harrumphed good-naturedly.

  “What is a devil but a fallen angel?” Livvy countered. “But I’m serious. I think you should have a cane. Look at this one.” She chose a dark cherrywood one. The handle had a curved elk horn on it. The antler had been carved to bear a noble wolf’s head.

  “Well now, that is a fine one.” Martin studied the cane and then Livvy. She hoped he would buy it. It would indeed fit her private Gothic fantasies all too well.

  “All right. How much?” he asked the shopkeeper.

  “Twenty shillings.”

  “Here you are.” Martin paid the man and took the cane, using it to balance as he and Livvy crossed a slick patch of ice as they continued down the row of shops, until it was time to go home.

  Darkness was creeping over the edge of the buildings by the time they arrived back at the townhouse.

  “Why don’t you rest a bit? We have a few hours before dinner.”

  “I think I will, thank you.” She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him soundly on the lips before she dashed away. It felt all too easy to be with him, and tonight she would keep her promise. She would go to his room and…

  She blushed even thinking about it.

  But a promise is a promise, and she wanted to fulfill this one very much.

  The Gentleman's Seduction

  Lauren Smith

  Chapter Twelve

  Martin took his time dressing for dinner. He couldn’t shake the flutter of nerves he felt as Byrd finished folding his cravat.

  “Everything all right, sir?” his valet inquired.

  “Yes, of course, why do you ask?”

  “Well…you’re fidgeting.” Byrd chuckled. “Most unusual for you, sir.”

  “I…” Martin swallowed, embarrassed at being so transparent. “I admit I’m a little nervous.”

  “Perhaps you are falling for Miss Hartwell?” Byrd asked as he finished with the cravat and stepped back to check his work.

  Martin nearly growled. He didn’t love the daughter of the man he’d sworn to hate. He could admit he liked her, was attracted to her, but falling in love?

  “It’s not love, it’s an infatuation at best, but it does seem to have me in knots.” He studied his appearance critically in the mirror. His bottle-green waistcoat with silver threading made the silk shimmer, and his buckskin trousers looked very smart. Would Livvy approve? She had called him a fallen angel. Did that mean she found him appealing, or simply a presentable devil? He knew he was favorable in looks, but to have a lady say it to him was a different matter.

  “You look fine,” Byrd assured him. “Your source of infatuation will approve too,” the valet added with a smug little smile.

  It hadn’t escaped Martin’s notice that his staff had already taken to Livvy. He liked her too. She was witty, intelligent, and quite amusing, among other things.

  “I won’t need you after dinner, understood? The evening is yours.” The valet nodded, understanding but knowing better than to pry.

  He didn’t bother with an outer coat tonight and headed down to dinner. Livvy was already there, standing by the fire, rubbing her hands. She wore the red silk gown he’d bought her, the one with the deliciously low-cut bodice. Black netting studded with tiny crystals layered over her skirts, letting the provocative red peek through the wide panel at the front of her gown. It wasn’t an overly elaborate dress, but it had the desired effect on him. All he could do was picture sliding his hands up beneath the red silk, watching the firelight glint off the hundreds of crystals sewn into the black netting of her skirts.

  He tamped down the flood of heat that ran through his body. It would not be at all attractive or comfortable to sit through three courses while his shaft was erect.

  Steady, old boy, he silently commanded himself.

  “You look lovely,” he said as he joined Livvy by the fireplace.

  “Thank you.” She smiled at him, and his knees buckled treacherously. Why was he allowing this woman to have such an effect on him?

  “Er, shall we have dinner?” He waved at the table.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Martin pulled back the chair closest to his at the end of the table, and she slid gracefully into it. He’d always marveled at how ladies could move so silently and gracefully. Livvy was no exception. He brushed the tips of his fingers over the back of her neck, delighting in the little shiver he felt. Then he sat down and waved for the footman to bring the first course.

  It was turtle soup, one of his favorite dishes. Livvy seemed to enjoy it as well, and by the way she was smiling a little he knew she was thinking of something.

  “What is it?” he asked, leaning toward her.

  “I cannot believe we are…that I said I would…” A blush tinged her cheeks. “I cannot believe I did that.”

  Martin swallowed a curse. Was she trying to back out? If so, he’d be sleeping tonight with the bluest balls of any man in history. But he’d vowed to let her set the pace, and he would keep his word.

  “Do you wish to change your mind? I would not demand…”

  “No!” She giggled, but her face was flushed. “No. I mean, I want to, but I admit to being frighteningly nervous.”

  “Oh. Yes, I see.” He cleared his throat. “Because you’ve never—”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it’s much better if you’re not hungry.” He reached for his wine glass and drank deeply. His own nerves were edgy. It felt like he was also a virgin facing their first night together.

  “I believe I am too nervous to eat,” she admitted quietly, and set her spoon down.

  “What… What can I do?” he asked.

  “Could we do it quickly?” she asked.

  “Quickly?” The word tasted foul on his tongue. One did not make love quickly, especially
not with a virgin.

  “No, I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. If we got started soon it might…ease my fears.” She pushed her chair back from the table and stood, holding out one hand to him. He stared at her hand for a moment, wondering if she was serious.

  She was…completely serious. Good Lord.

  Mystified, he took her at her word, and they both abandoned their dinner. She paused when they reached the top of the stairs.

  “Your bed or mine?” she asked.

  “Mine,” he replied, his voice a little gruff as he fought to control his growing arousal. He had to keep from frightening her with his lust. As they entered the room, he closed the door behind them. When he turned back to her, he saw panic flashing in her gaze.

  “Livvy, you don’t have to do this,” Martin assured her. He didn’t want to force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. She leaned back against the post at the end of his bed and looked up at him through her dark lashes.

  “I want to, but would you kiss me first?” she asked.

  He nodded mutely and approached her. Her lovely hazel eyes glittered in the firelight, and he studied his reflection in her gaze, hoping he could make this night wonderful for her. She put a hand on his chest and slowly lowered it to his stomach. Her exploring touch made his abdomen clench. He caught her wrist gently and lifted her hands to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her palm before he used his other hand to tilt her head back.

  Lust burned inside him, but he clung to his frayed control. His fingers yearned to touch her, his mouth to taste her, his body to press into hers and merge into a single breathing, sated being. Yet he knew that once he and Livvy came together, it would be infinitely better than it had been with any other woman.

  Pleasure pulsed in his veins as he slowly lowered his lips to hers. Her lips were plump and all too kissable. He could have nibbled and kissed them for days. He let his mouth tell her what he couldn’t find the words to say.