Rogues and Ripped Bodices

by Samantha Holt

She reached between them and a slim, cool hand curled around his heat. He groaned and closed his eyes for a moment. Emma was bolder than he could have anticipated. It seemed their time apart had given her courage too. She moved her hand up and down him and he wrapped his hand around hers to show her how to move. Her beaming smile reached down into his chest and looped around his heart.

  “I can’t wait for long,” he said, aware he needed to prepare her. He’d been dreaming of this for days now and if she kept touching him, he was sure he might lose his mind and plough straight into her.

  Which he did not wish to do. He had to prove himself and make this good for her.

  Skimming a finger downward as he propped himself on one elbow, he found her wet and ready. She gasped his name when his finger slipped between her folds and found that spot again. Every time he rubbed or circled it, she bucked and trembled. Alex watched her parted lips and fluttering lashes with fascination. He all but forgot the way her hand moved erratically over him.

  Emma dug her nails into his shoulder and released his erection to grab the furs behind her head. Her breaths came in short, sharp pants and his blood fired. “Alexander,” she gasped. “Please...”

  Alex couldn’t deny her, nor himself. It was time. A fresh start for both of them. With this moment, their first year of marriage would be forgotten and they would embark on a new journey together. He spread her legs further and settled between them. Her hands found his rear and urged him closer. He paused and looked down at her.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  He let his lips tilt. “I’m waiting for something terrible to happen. For something to stop us.”

  They both fell silent and waited. Nothing. Then Emma laughed and he followed suit. Bringing his mouth down upon hers, he tasted her warmth and pressed into her. He found her wet and willing, and he savoured sliding each inch into her. The tiny sounds of pleasure coming from her with each press increased the pleasure, and he had to suck in a few deep breaths to maintain control.

  When he was fully inside her, he lifted on his arms to gaze at her. Those stunning blue eyes were slightly damp, and he kissed away the tears from the corners. Understanding ran between them. I love you, her eyes said. I love you too, his responded. This is it. This is us. Our fresh start.

  He began to move, slowly at first, then with each grip of her fingers and each quiver of her body, he picked up the pace. Her legs wrapped about him and he groaned as it brought him deeper. With strong, swift strokes, he pressed her into the furs, the heat from the fire licking over their skin and turning his body slick. Alex’s arms shook as the pleasure burned through his body.

  Emma tightened around him and heard her draw in a sharp breath and hold it. Nails bit into his skin. She convulsed, once, twice and a third time before becoming limp underneath him. He gave in completely then, pounding into her until his release streaked through his body and stars jumped in front of his vision.

  Aware of his heart galloping against his ribs, he near collapsed on top of her and buried his head in her luscious flower-scented curls. Emma stroked his back, up and down and then brought her hands to smooth his hair from his face. He lifted his head and grinned down at her.

  “Am I too heavy?”

  “A little,” she admitted, “but I like it.” She squeezed her arms around him. “I like it a lot.”

  “Good. I plan to do this many more times.”

  “Today?”

  Alex chuckled at her eager tone. “Well, it is Christmas?”

  “It is indeed. Merry Christmas, Your Grace.” Her lips twitched.

  “Merry Christmas, Emma,” he said softly, ignoring her teasing tone. “I love you.”

  Her answering smile filled him with such happiness, he feared he was dreaming. But then she swept a finger across his lips and traced the shape of them before whispering, “I love you too.”

  Alex kissed her, still buried inside her and decided he would make it a tradition from now on. Whatever was happening in their lives, no matter where they had been, they would come here every year and show each other exactly how much they loved one another. He released a grin that had her raising a brow until he began to move inside her again. Her quizzical expression soon vanished and Alex went back to showing her exactly how much he loved her. His Christmas seduction plans had not gone so badly after all.

  Epilogue

  Emma shuddered and peered out of the window for the hundredth time that morning. The snow was falling heavily and the road to the house had vanished. A tug at her skirts drew her attention away from the snowy scenery. She could not help but smile as the five-year-old stuffed her fingers in her mouth and snuggled into her dark green gown.

  “Will we decorate a tree soon, Mama?” Isabel said around her fingers.

  “As soon as your father has gone to get one. You know he loves to do it himself, darling.” Juggling the nearly one-year-old baby in her arm, she bent to give Isabel a squeeze. “I am sure he will want to go straight out and get one as soon as he returns.”

  “Will Papa be back soon?”

  “Yes, my darling, very soon.” She hoped. How would he even get through this snow? Alexander had been gone for three weeks, giving a talk on mountain climbing in London while attending to some of his duties. She was glad he’d chosen to spend most of his time instructing on mountain climbing rather than doing it. It seemed to bring him much enjoyment and she could worry less about him, though he still climbed the odd Scottish mountain.

  “Can I have a sweetmeat?”

  Emma released Isabel and pressed a kiss to her blonde curls before standing. “Yes, but only three. I don’t want you getting sick again.”

  “Thank you, Mama,” the little girl said before skipping out of the drawing room where the tray of sweetmeats sat temptingly on the bureau.

  Allowing herself a smile, she turned her attention to peering out of the window once more. The baby in her arms wriggled and fisted his hands in her hair, making her laugh out loud as she tried to disengage his tightly closed fist from one of her curls.

  With a sigh, she turned away from the window and strode out of the dining room to the drawing room. Isabel spun around, a guilty look on her face as her mother entered. The room was fully decorated with the exception of a tree. Sprigs of greenery ran along the mantelpiece and a giant nutcracker sat to the side of the fireplace. The decorations didn’t look as neat and tidy as usual with Isabel being able to help this year, but they added a nice touch to the rustic room.

  Emma turned her attention to her daughter. “Isabel, did you eat more than three?”

  “No, Mama,” she said through a mouthful of sweetmeats. “Does Frederick want one?”

  “I’m sure he does.” The baby tightened his fist in her hair in agreement. “But he cannot. Besides, it will be time for his nap soon and then we can finish putting up the decorations.”

  “But not the tree?” Isabel’s bottom lip jutted out.

  “Not until your papa is home,” Emma replied firmly.

  “It’s a fine job I am home then, is it not?”

  Emma spun, her heart jumping with delight. “Alexander!”

  Isabel reached her father before Emma could and he bent to scoop up his daughter and spin her around. He sat her on his hip and kissed her cheek. Grimacing, he swiped a finger across her skin. “Have you been eating sweetmeats?”

  “Only a few, Papa.”

  Emma slipped into his other arm and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Too many.” She brushed a hand over his shoulder to dust away some of the snow. “You must be freezing. I didn’t think you would make it through the snow.”

  “I had to leave the carriage in the village and trek the rest of the way.”

  “Alexander, what were you thinking?”

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and dropped a kiss onto Frederick’s head. The baby responded by finally releasing his mama’s hair and trying to tug his papa’s instead. “I was thinking I wanted to get home to my family and no snow storm would st
op me.”

  “Well, you always were determined,” she said on a sigh.

  Alexander put Isabel down. “Why don’t you go and find Nanny Mary. I think your brother needs a nap and then we can finish decorating.”

  Fingers in her mouth, Isabel nodded and hurried off to find the nursemaid. Alexander flicked a finger under the baby’s chin before drawing Emma against him once more. “When he is settled, shall we, uh, head out for a walk?”

  “Aren’t you exhausted?”

  He shook his head and sealed his mouth across hers. Emma sank into him and clung to her husband with her free hand. His lips had warmed and she drew in the scent and feel of him.

  “Never too exhausted for you,” he said.

  “Let us have lunch first. Then we can take a walk. Just the two of us.”

  Alexander sighed and slipped a hand down to grab her rear through her skirts. “Always making me wait.”

  She leaned up to press a firm kiss to his lips. “You waited almost a year. I’m sure you can wait a few more hours.”

  “Well, my love, you were worth waiting for.”

  Emma gazed into her husband’s eyes and cupped his jaw. “As were you. Merry Christmas, husband.”

  “Merry Christmas, wife.”

  When he bent to kiss her firmly and Frederick squealed between them, Emma uttered up a prayer of thanks for her husband’s determination to create a proper marriage for them and for her own courage. She looked forward to many more Christmases with her wonderful family and many more Christmas seductions too, she hoped.

  THE END

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  Other titles by Samantha Holt

  Sinful Deeds (Cynfell Brothers Book 2)

  Tempting His Mistress

  Kissed at Midnight

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  Keep reading for an exclusive preview of Sinful Liaisons coming August 13th 2015

  Sinful Liaisons

  A Cynfell Brothers Book

  Samantha Holt

  Chapter One

  Oxfordshire, 1897

  A breeze whistled across his nether regions. Pierce grimaced. It could have been worse, he supposed. At least the day was mild with no sign of rain. He peered into the distance. Only the deeply grooved road cutting its path through the gentle hills hinted at civilisation. He grimaced again. Where the bloody hell was he?

  He curled a fist and began trudging along the grass at the side of the road. Stones pricked his bare feet.

  “Bloody Goddamn it.”

  Pierce was going to kill Giles if he lived through this. He hadn’t intended to visit their favourite gambling den, but Giles just had to talk him into it. Nor had he meant to get utterly foxed. He hardly remembered wagering everything including his clothes. As for how he’d ended up naked on the roadside...

  “Bloody Goddamn it all to hell.”

  One final wager...He had vague recollections. Something to do with a race? Damnation, if only his head wasn’t so fuzzy. But even then, why had Giles left him to sleep it off in a field—naked?

  The rumble of a carriage made him stiffen. He wouldn’t get far with his bare feet. A form of transport would be useful indeed. But who would give a naked man a ride? Pierce shrugged to himself and turned, cupping one hand over himself to preserve what little modesty he had left and using the other to gain the driver’s attention.

  The black, glossy carriage rumbled closer, led by two horses. He saw the driver glance his way then look again before turning his head away. Dirt spattered his legs making him jump back as it rolled past.

  “Rot in hell then,” he muttered half-heartedly and resisted the urge to scuff his bare foot across the ground.

  A command from the driver reached his ears and he held his breath as the horses came to a halt. The vehicle stopped. Both hands over the family jewels, Pierce waited. The door swung open.

  “Thank you,” he uttered, lifting his gaze to the heavens, and hurried toward the carriage. He cursed under his breath when several more rocks jabbed the soles of his feet.

  Trying to look as noble as one could when naked, he paused in front of the open door. There, in the dark confines of the vehicle and set against plush royal blue seats, an elegant redhead skimmed her gaze up and down his body. Even in the gloom of the carriage, he saw an eyebrow rise. Then he noted the curve of her lips.

  Pierce stared back. He allowed his own gaze to travel over her, observing the generous rise of her breasts against a low cut bodice and the slender waist that led to hips that were emphasised by a bustle. Hair coiled high, it gave him a fine view of the gems on her neck and ears. From the delicate porcelain skin to the emeralds casting a faint green hew across it, everything about this woman told him of her importance.

  And her attractiveness. He had to force his gaze from her breasts or else both hands wouldn’t conceal anything.

  “Get in.”

  The husky command startled him, and he laughed. He’d half-expected her to swoon or give a startled cry and order the driver to depart.

  “You have my thanks, my lady.” He ducked into the carriage and seated himself opposite her, his hands firmly shielding what was left of his modesty. Velvet pricked his behind.

  He was going to kill Giles. He’d string him up from his fingernails. He’d strip him naked and abandon him in Trafalgar Square. He’d—

  “Your Grace.”

  “My lord,” he corrected. He certainly wasn’t a duke and his brother Julian held the title of marquess. Unless four of his brothers succumbed to something—and God knows the Cynfell men were as strong as oxen—he would never have anything but a courtesy title.

  “I am Your Grace.”

  She tilted her head to eye him. It was hardly the first time a woman had seen him naked, and it wouldn’t be the last. Nor was he only used to simpering virgins. His tended to prefer the more experienced woman. Taking a lady’s innocence held little appeal. So he had to be used to being appraised so frankly, surely? One of the women he’d bedded had to have looked at him in such a manner.

  And yet, Pierce did not think so.

  It was her age that did it perhaps. She was older than he. About five years or so by his reckoning. A more experienced woman and a duchess no less. It certainly explained why there was no swooning or screaming. A woman of her rank had likely dealt with many things in her life and a mere naked man wouldn’t startle her.

  “Forgive me,” he dipped his head in lieu of touching and removing his hat. “Your Grace. Lord Pierce Cynfell at your service.”

  “Cynfell. I know that name.” She pressed a finger to generous lips.

  “My brother is the Marquess of Lockwood.”

  “I was rather thinking of that female artist—Josephine Cynfell. I have one of her paintings.”

  “You have excellent taste, Your Grace.”

  He tried not to scowl as he tried to place her. She had to spend time in London society if she knew of Dante’s wife. Josephine was only recently becoming known in the art world and word of her talent had not yet spread all over England, though Pierce had no doubt it would. Dante—a man who had been utterly useless for quite some time—just about matched his wife in ambition now. Both were likely making a pretty penny.

  He wished he could say the same of himself.

  “My name is Evelyn Chesworth, Duchess of Ardleigh.”

  Ah yes, he knew the name now, but how in the devil had she figured out what he was thinking? And why had he never paid attention to her before? She had to have attended at least a few of the events he did when he wasn’t gambling.

  Pierce attempted not to squirm. Would she not at least order the coach to go so he could put an end to his...naked situation? He had nothing of which to be ashamed. He was strong and healthy. Women loved his body. But this woman’s brazen stare made him want something more than just his hands to cover himself.
<
br />   “How is it you have come to be on the roadside in nought but your skin, Lord Cynfell?”

  “Pierce. You should call me Pierce.” He turned on his most charming smile. It was the one that made women give him a second chance. The one that made sure he didn’t live like a pauper even though he practically was one.

  It failed.

  One slender red eyebrow arched impossibly high. “I hardly know you, my lord.”

  “Considering I am sitting naked in your carriage, I think we can dispense with formalities. That is, if you allow it, Your Grace.”

  Those full lips curved again. He watched the movement—riveted.

  “You are indeed. Very well, you may call me Evelyn.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Evelyn,” he drawled. If he was going to be at the mercy of this woman, he needed to get her on his side. Charm would have to be his friend today.

  Apparently it was lost on her. It seemed he had no friends. The cool cast to her expression remained, and he had the distinct impression she was enjoying his uncomfortable state. The lady was a masochist, surely?

  A few more seconds passed. He shifted and lifted his gaze to the ornate roof of the carriage. When he glanced back at the duchess, her tiny smile had expanded. Finally, she leaned her head out of the door and called to the driver.

  “Bramwell, give me your jacket please.”

  There was a creak and a rock of the carriage, and a jacket was thrust through the open door. She passed it over to him and shut the door. After she tapped on the roof, the vehicle began its journey onward.

  Pierce fought to get the jacket on one-handed whilst keeping himself covered. He failed and the woman’s lips quirked. Duchess or not, he was beginning to dislike her. However, he had to admit he couldn’t really take the moral high ground. He too would have found a naked man at the side of the road amusing. However, he’d rather hoped finding charity in a woman would have afforded him a little less embarrassment.

  He finally managed to get the jacket on and wrapped it about himself. When he peered at her, he noted a slight stain on her cheeks. Ah, so she wasn’t completely unaffected by him. Excellent.