Noble Scoundrel (Peril & Persuasion Book 1)

by Amy Sandas

  Rocking, thrusting, circling his hips. The pleasure built high inside him, twisting through his core, threatening his control.

  Who was he kidding? He’d lost control a long time ago.

  Everything in him was clamoring to be inside her, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from her enough to remove their clothing. All he could do was rut over her, directing his cock along her covered sex, over and over, until she fell apart.

  And when she did, it was a heart-stopping sight.

  One moment she was tangling her tongue with his in frantic ardor. In the next, she pulled away with a sharp arch of her back. Her jaw tensed and her nostrils flared. The fingers gripping his buttocks curled into claws as she held him tight against her and rocked herself in short, fierce little movements.

  A gasp caught in her throat as her eyes opened and her gaze slammed hard into his. Her lashes fluttered as though she’d close her eyes again. “No,” he growled brutally. “Look at me as you come.”

  And she did. Through the painful squeeze of her thighs and the slow moan that slid from her throat. As her body shuddered beneath him and a rush of wet heat bathed his throbbing length.

  Mason had never witnessed anything so blasted erotic.

  His balls tightened with an approaching climax. He froze, sucking a hard breath and clenching his teeth to hold it at bay. He could just imagine what she’d think of him if he released his seed into his breeches while pumping between her thighs. Though pleasure pulsed through him in heavy waves, he forcefully denied the culmination. Drawing from the deepest parts of himself, he miraculously held it off.

  Once he was sure the threat had passed, he looked down to see her staring up at him with the haze of pleasure still clouding her gaze. He pressed a hot, slow, open-mouthed kiss to her parted lips.

  She was so soft and warm beneath him. Her body languid and receptive. Though his body shook in want of release and his balls twisted with the agony of denial, he hummed low from the pleasure of having her satiated body beneath him.

  But he had only a moment to enjoy it before she tensed and shifted. She pushed against his shoulders and he groaned in protest.

  Shit.

  He’d known the sensual bliss wouldn’t last. He’d just hoped it could have lasted a bit longer than it did.

  Dredging up what strength he could, he lifted himself from her soft, warm body and rolled to his back, bending a knee and propping his foot on the floor. He should probably be shamed by the obvious evidence of how badly his body still craved hers. His cock was harder than it had ever been and throbbed against the material of his breeches. To keep from running a hand along his painful erection, he stacked his hands beneath his head and readied himself for whatever was to come next.

  As soon as she was released from his weight, the woman beside him sat up and began tugging her shirt into place. Her back was proud and straight, and the thick braid hanging down her back was tangled and loosened.

  His fingers twitched for a piece of charcoal. He’d love to sketch her in exactly that pose, but fully nude.

  He wanted to capture the lovely curve of her spine, the slope of her shoulders, the gentle curve of waist and hip. And the messy fall of her dark plaited hair contrasting against her pale skin, the gathered end teasing the curve of her buttocks as she turned her head to the side to cast him a covert glance over her shoulder.

  Except she wasn’t glancing at him. She was looking around for her waistcoat and happened to catch him staring at her. Though her gaze darkened and her brows pulled down, Mason didn’t bother concealing his pleased smile. He might not have achieved release but he had brought her to her pleasure.

  “You’re looking rather smug,” she noted sharply.

  “For good reason, luv.”

  She seemed to intentionally avoid looking toward his groin and continued scanning for her waistcoat, which happened to be past Mason’s sprawled form.

  His grin grew wider.

  As though sensing his silent challenge, a spark flared in her eyes. Rolling to her side and bracing on one elbow, she reached across his body to snatch up the garment. Desire rushed through him at the pleasure of her warm breasts pressing to his ribs.

  Her skin smelled of sweat from her earlier exertions mixing with the lovely musky scent of her pleasure.

  The sound that vibrated from his throat brought her gaze flying back to his where he had no doubt his lust was fully reflected.

  Panic flashed briefly in her eyes.

  He hated the sight of it.

  Twisting his lips into a careless smirk, he noted dryly, “Now that you’ve taken your pleasure, you’re in a damned hurry to leave.”

  Defiance flared again in her gaze as she pushed herself up. Defiance and regret. He hated the regret even more than he hated her moment of panic.

  Her brows lowered. “Frederick and I always meet for the midday meal. I don’t wish to leave him waiting.”

  “Of course,” he replied curtly. He didn’t understand why he was suddenly feeling so ill at ease.

  She calmly met his gaze despite the glimmer of turmoil still evident in her eyes. “I expect you to continue training me.”

  Mason lifted a brow. “You do?”

  “What just happened”—she paused as she appeared to fight the urge to look away—“changes nothing.”

  Something hot burned through his chest at her words. It wasn’t quite anger, but it was something just as dangerous. Giving up his façade of careless amusement, he grasped her hips in his hands and brought her over the top of him until his hard length pressed to her belly. She gasped then quickly shoved against his shoulders to try to leverage away from him. But all that succeeded in doing was getting her into a position that straddled his hips, her waistcoat still clutched in one fist.

  In a subtle, purposeful demonstration, he moved her over him so she could feel every bit of him against her core.

  Her eyelashes fluttered and her jaw tightened, yet she held his gaze with a haughty scowl of disapproval. Desire mixed in with her stubborn annoyance.

  “This changes everything,” he growled. “I will train you because it’s a good idea.” He slid his hands lower to press his fingers into the soft flesh of her buttocks. “But you and I are going to finish what we started on this floor. If nothing else, trust in that, duchess,” he added ominously.

  She held still for another moment as she stared intently into his face, seeking and assessing. In that moment, when he most wanted to see her thoughts, she finally managed to shield them from him. He waited for a quick retort or a simple flat denial. But she said nothing at all.

  When she shifted her weight and began to stand, he did not prevent her from doing so.

  Mason lifted himself up on his elbows to watch her cross the room. The fierce pride in her movements as she slipped on the waistcoat held him enthralled. What the hell was it about this woman that fascinated him so damned much?

  Grasping the handle of the unlocked door, she paused before opening it. Tossing her braid over her shoulder, she looked back at him. The way her attention swept over his sprawled form to finally rest on his still-aching erection had his breath stalling in his chest.

  But then, without a word, she turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Mason dropped back to lie flat on the floor and stare at the mural of robed saints and frolicking cherubs painted on the ceiling above him. It was a long time before he managed to haul himself to his feet and make his way up to his room.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Once back in her bedroom, Katherine called for a bath before quickly removing her clothes and dressing in a robe. She had barely forty minutes before lunch with Frederick, and the scent of Hale’s sweat on her skin still mingled with hers. It was a heady, potent combination that made her belly twist and her knees weaken.

  With a firm shake of her head, she began to unravel her braid just as the servants arrived to set up the bath.

  Perhaps she shouldn’t thi
nk about what had just happened in the ballroom. Just as she’d tried not to think of the kiss that had occurred the night before. Of course, she’d failed miserably at the latter since she’d lain awake nearly all night reliving every sensation—every decadent taste and sound—of those moments.

  Despite her sleepless night, she’d gone to the ballroom thinking she’d be able to keep thoughts of the kiss from intruding. She told herself it had been a one-time, reckless occurrence that was unlikely to be repeated.

  How wrong she’d been. And she wasn’t the slightest bit mad about it.

  Exhilarated. Confused. And utterly overwhelmed. But certainly not mad.

  As soon as the servants left and she was alone again, she dropped her robe to the floor and lowered herself into the steaming, scented water. She would have loved to lean back against the slanted edge of the tub, close her eyes, and soak up a bit of the calming warmth. But she didn’t have the time.

  Instead, she reached for the soap and quickly lathered it into a thick foam that she worked through her hair. While scrubbing her scalp, she wondered how on earth she’d manage to face Hale again after what she’d allowed. No—after what she’d practically demanded of him.

  Heat burned in her cheeks.

  Every effort she’d employed to maintain a proper level of authority over his position as Frederick’s bodyguard had been completely forgotten the moment he’d rolled her beneath him on the floor. The pleasure of it—the pure basic craving of body to body—had taken over. She’d acted on instinct. And everything in her had clamored for his touch, his kiss, his strength, and his possession.

  She’d balked at the term surrender, but in retrospect, she couldn’t deny there had been an element of submission to what she’d experienced. Submission to her own desire, to his obvious and equal hunger, to the needs of the moment. With his mouth moving over her skin, there had been no way to deny or resist how wonderful and right it had felt.

  A groan slid from her throat as she recalled the delicious way he moved between her legs, and she quickly dunked under the water to rinse her hair and her mind. When she came back up for air, her hair was free of suds but her thoughts remained in riotous turmoil.

  Roughly squeezing the water from her hair before twisting it into a bun atop her head, she tried to tell herself what happened between her and Hale hadn’t been as alarming as she was making it out to be.

  The attempt failed immediately.

  Of course it was alarming! When she’d claimed it changed nothing, she’d been lying through her teeth. And he’d known it. The look on his face when he’d told her in that growly voice of his that they’d be finishing what they’d started had melted her to the core.

  If what they’d done on that floor had been just the beginning, she sure as hell wanted more.

  But how much more?

  Katherine might have had a rather secluded country life before coming to London, but she wasn’t naïve or unaware of greater society’s rules and expectations regarding the more intimate acts that could occur between two people. Especially in regard to women. And even more so for a woman of her social standing where personal relationships were most often handled as transactions to improve the family’s wealth or influence. In such a world, a woman’s indiscretion could be ruinous and unforgivable. That the governance and consequences of sexual behavior should be so different for a man than for a woman was just one example of how men felt they could and should manage the female experience.

  It was a ridiculous and antiquated notion. She was quite capable of deciding the course of her own life. And that included whether or not she take a lover. Or a husband for that matter. And who that person might be.

  Having finished washing, she rose from the tub and began to dry herself with a large warmed towel. After crossing to her wardrobe, she chose a day gown in a lovely blue. As she dressed, she finally acknowledged what really had her insides all twisted up and fluttery.

  It wasn’t society’s judgment or even her concern that what had occurred with Hale might interfere with his role as Frederick’s bodyguard. She had no doubt in his dedication to ensure her brother’s safety.

  What truly worried her was the suspicion that her feelings for the man went well beyond the fierce heat of lust he inspired.

  And she had no idea how to feel about that.

  FREDERICK WAS ALREADY in the dining room when she arrived though she’d managed to ready herself and get downstairs a full five minutes before the appointed hour. She could tell immediately by the look on his face he was excited about something. It had been so long since she’d observed the light of inspiration and expectation in his dark eyes that she experienced an instant rush of wary hope.

  “Good afternoon, Frederick,” she greeted warmly as she took a seat across the table from him.

  “Hello, Kit. You look very nice today.” He gave an assessing tilt of his head. “Quite pretty, actually. Have you been outside?”

  “Not today. Why?”

  Her brother shrugged. “There’s just a heightened shade of pink in your cheeks and an unusual brightness in your eyes. Are you feeling ill?”

  “Not at all.” Katherine glanced down as she smoothed a wrinkle from the tablecloth. “It must be the shade of my gown.”

  “Maybe.” He sounded unconvinced.

  Unsettled by the thought that her brother might be able to detect the very emotions she was struggling to understand, Katherine was grateful to have the moment interrupted by the timely arrival of their food.

  Their conversation started out casually as Katherine asked how he’d been doing in his various self-directed studies and then inquired after Claire. Though she visited the girl every so often, she was afraid to overwhelm the shy child when she’d already had so many changes she’d had to adjust to recently. She was also aware of how frequently Hale could be found in the schoolroom, and she had no desire to interrupt the father and daughter’s time together.

  Near the end of the meal, Katherine finally asked about the secret project her brother had been so diligently working on over the last week or so. As soon as it was mentioned, Frederick’s manner shifted and his eyes shimmered with excitement.

  “It’s very nearly finished, actually.” He leaned forward with an expectant smile brightening his features. “Would you like to see it?”

  “Are you joking?” she exclaimed with a laugh. “I’ve been dying to see what you’ve been so focused on.”

  A few minutes later, Frederick led her into the guest bedroom beside his, which he’d converted into a workroom of sorts. The bed had been replaced with a large drafting table upon which were spread several blueprints and architectural sketches.

  “Keep in mind that it will still require some finishing touches. But as of this morning, I feel like the main design is complete.”

  As soon as she was close enough to see the drawings, she knew what they depicted.

  Redbury Hall in Lincolnshire. Not as they’d last seen it—a soot-blackened half shell of their former home—but as a wholly new creation.

  Katherine stepped silently to the table and carefully began to sort through the blueprints.

  Her brother had taken what was left of their home and re-envisioned it. In expert detail, he’d designed a new wing to replace what had been destroyed. And though it held a hint of what the manor had once been, it was its own composition. New and fresh and beautifully harmonious with the still-standing structures.

  “What do you think?” Frederick’s voice was soft and low.

  Katherine met her brother’s gaze and smiled past the thick lump in her throat. “It’s wonderful.”

  “You don’t mind that I changed so much?”

  “Not at all.” She lifted one of the sketches. It was a depiction of the finished structure from the outside. Drawn simply with sparing lines and only hints of detail, it still managed to evoke an immediate visceral response. For a second, she could picture herself walking down the lane toward the manor. She could smell the wildflowers f
rom the nearby pasture and hear the summer breeze dancing through the willows that lined the drive. And up ahead, their childhood home.

  Brilliantly reimagined by the fifth Duke of Northmoor was this beautiful structure that perfectly combined the old with the new. Traditional with modern. There was an elegance and maturity to her brother’s design that really shouldn’t have surprised her.

  “Frederick, I didn’t know you could sketch so well.” Her voice had softened with emotion.

  “Oh, I can’t. Mr. Hale rendered the drawings for me.”

  Shock passed through her and the sketch she was holding seemed to sear her fingers. “What?”

  “I just told him what I envisioned and he sketched it all out.” Frederick tilted his head at one of the drawings. “He’s rather good, isn’t he?”

  More than good. They were exceptional. Especially when one considered he’d managed to fill the images with nostalgia of a place he’d never even visited. And though it astonished her at first to discover such a hidden talent in the bodyguard, it didn’t truly surprise her.

  “I suppose I was inspired by London.” Frederick’s voice was thoughtful. “The perfectly plotted streets and squares of Mayfair, but also the twisting alleys and lanes of the East End. I wanted to bring some of that balance and beauty to Lincolnshire. Though I love town and hope to spend a great deal of time here, Redbury Hall will always be our home. It’s also our family seat and will hopefully be the home of many generations to come.” Frederick displayed more of the sketches, each one showing the manor from various angles. “Rather than reform what was before, I wanted to honor the future as much as the past.”

  Overwhelmed, Katherine turned to her brother and wrapped him in a swift and tight embrace. He allowed it longer than she expected him to, and when she drew back again to set her hands on his shoulders, she couldn’t keep the flow of pride from her voice.