Noble Scoundrel (Peril & Persuasion Book 1)

by Amy Sandas

  With one hand buried in her hair, he slid his other hand in a warm caress down the hollow of her spine, pausing to squeeze the soft flesh of her arse. She undulated beneath his touch, like a cat commanding more attention. Her hum of pleasure vibrated around his erection, inspiring a telltale tightening in his balls.

  With a reluctant grunt of effort, he tugged gently on her hair in a signal to stop. She released him in a slow, torturous glide of her lips. Pulling her toward him, he took her mouth with his, thrusting his tongue deep enough to claim her moans for his own. Then he wrapped her in his arms and rolled her to her back. Needing her as close to the edge as he was, he slid his ridged head back and forth over her clit in short, purposeful strokes. Until her fingernails scored his back and her thighs tensed and shook around his hips.

  When she planted her feet and tilted her hips, he rewarded her with a long glide of his cock along her opening, making sure not to penetrate her.

  Her moan of frustration made him chuckle until the sharp edge of her teeth on his shoulder cut it short.

  “My duchess demands satisfaction?”

  “I need you inside me,” she gasped. “Now.”

  A powerful surge of lust rushed through him at the words, and he plunged forward in one stiff stroke. Claiming her. Surrendering to her.

  She lifted her knees along his sides and pressed her heels into his buttocks, forcing him deeper as her body fluttered and contracted around him.

  Utterly destroyed.

  SOMETIME LATER, SHE stirred from where she’d been softly dozing, nestled against Mason’s chest. He glanced to the clock. Dawn was approaching and she’d need to sneak away soon.

  He had to very intentionally loosen his arm from around her back. A great effort when everything in him strained with the desire to keep her there. Further proof that he’d lost his mind.

  She couldn’t stay in his bed any more than he could stay in Mayfair.

  As she rolled gently away from him, he closed his eyes. He didn’t need to see her leaving to feel it.

  He felt it. Everywhere. Deeply. Painfully.

  He’d known the second she’d walked into his bedroom last night that it would be their last time together. The knowledge had filled him with instant rage as he’d forced himself to accept he wanted more than their circumstances could ever allow. With great effort, he’d tamped down his anger in order to surrender to the desire of the moment, the needs of the night.

  Realizing she hadn’t yet risen from the bed, he risked a peek at her.

  She sat at the edge of the mattress. Her hair had been swept forward over one shoulder, and her slim back was graceful and straight as she looked down at something in her hands.

  Mason stiffened. An odd sort of pain arced through him as he realized what she had.

  In one swift, purposeful movement, he rolled to his feet on the other side of the bed and walked across the room to the washstand. Busying himself with the task of washing the sweat and sex from his body, he managed to keep his back to her. If he tried hard enough, perhaps he could forget she was there.

  “Mason.”

  His name was a soft, stern whisper. A caress and a command.

  With his stomach clenching and his shoulders tight, he lifted a fist to rub at the ache in his chest. But he didn’t turn around.

  He could hear her moving—the gentle slide of her skin on the sheets. The quiet fall of her bare feet in the thick carpet. The subtle rustle of the paper in her hand.

  The room was too hot. He should spread out the coals in the grate. Open a window, maybe. Anything to cool the heat rising beneath his skin.

  He bent forward and splashed water from the bowl onto his face.

  When he straightened, she was still there. Behind him. He could feel her.

  “Mason. Turn around and look at me, please.”

  He’d be a coward not to. Mason Hale was a lot of disreputable things, but he’d never been that.

  After wiping his face with a towel, he turned. Taking a wide stance, he folded his arms over his chest and settled his features into the harshest expression he could manage. A Herculean task when the sight of her standing so proud and beautiful and completely, stunningly nude made his blood rush wildly through his veins and his heart beat at twice the pace.

  Noting his fierce expression, she gave a soft sigh and lifted one elegantly haughty brow. “You’re in love with me.”

  His heart stopped. Dead. “Bloody hell, duchess.”

  She lifted the fresh sketch in her hand and tilted her head imperiously. “Try to deny it.”

  A low growl escaped his throat.

  He couldn’t deny a damn thing. He wanted to, but the words simply wouldn’t form.

  She returned his heavy glare with a slow smile that curved her mouth in the loveliest way as she set the sketch on the chair next to her and continued toward him. The sway in her hips nearly pulled his attention away from the fierce light of purpose in her eyes. But her dark, intent gaze was far too compelling.

  “It’s all right, you know,” she murmured once she was toe-to-toe with him. Tipping her head back, she sent a soft glance over the features of his face before returning her gaze to his. “I’m in love with you, too.”

  His growl shifted into a moan when she rested her hands on his doubled forearms and leaned forward to press her lips to his pectoral muscle. Then she rose up on her toes and sealed her soft lips to the side of his throat.

  “Stop it, duchess.” The words were ragged and barely audible.

  “Stop what?”

  She pressed another kiss behind his ear, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine.

  “You know what. It’s pointless.”

  She pulled back to look up at him, a stern furrow between her brows. “Love is pointless?”

  “Between us, it is.”

  There was a flicker of pain in her eyes, quickly concealed. He stepped around her to walk across the room. Not for any particular reason other than to put some distance between them. When he rounded to the other side of the bed, he looked around for something to do. Spying his breeches, he swiped them up and shoved his feet into them.

  “I disagree.”

  He closed his eyes at the sound of her stern tone coming from far too close. She’d followed him. Keeping his back to her, he pulled the breeches up and worked at the fastenings though his fingers fumbled uselessly.

  When he didn’t reply, she spoke again. Her voice rising. “You’re finished? Just like that?”

  Fuck.

  His heart was pounding so hard it seemed it might bust through his chest.

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “It doesn’t bloody matter if you believe it not,” he growled as he turned to face her, his arms once again crossed over his chest in a stupid attempt to create a barrier between them. Stupid because she’d already burrowed a path straight to his core. “Nothing can come of this. Us.”

  Her expression was mutinous. And fucking gorgeous. He resisted the urge to press his fist over his heart to contain it.

  She tilted her head and stared at him. Her intelligent gaze smoothed over every hard angle of his face, feeling like a caress. Then her features softened as she took a step toward him and brought her hands to his crossed arms, silently urging him to release them. He considered resisting but knew she wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he did his best to remain passive as she unfolded his arms and wrapped them around her waist. Running her hands up his arms to his shoulders, she pressed herself to him. Soft warmth against hard heat.

  Mason clenched his teeth to hold back his groan of pleasure.

  Looping her arms around his neck, she pulled him down to press a kiss to his firm lips. Then she looked straight into his eyes and said, “Marry me, Mason Hale.”

  His arms tightened automatically around her as his breath left him on a harshly muttered curse. All of the pressure inside him pushed outward. He felt like he needed to explode. He searched her face and saw nothing but intense sincerity. And for some rea
son, it angered him.

  “That’s impossible and you damn well know it.”

  “I do not,” she argued stubbornly. “Nothing is impossible.”

  “A marriage between a duke’s daughter and a villain of the East End sure as hell is.”

  “Says who?”

  “The whole fucking world.”

  “I don’t care about the rest of the world,” she retorted. Then she arched a brow. “If you don’t want to marry me, Mason, just say so.”

  He growled again and his arms tightened involuntarily.

  She smiled.

  “That’s what I thought.” Framing his face in her hands, she looked confidently into his eyes. “You’ve been fighting all your life. Fighting to survive. To protect. To claim your place in the world. You don’t have to fight this, Mason.” She smiled. “Just let it happen.”

  Emotion churned inside him. He couldn’t respond. It didn’t seem real.

  “You should know right now that I’m not going to give up on this. On you.”

  Giving in to the need inside him, Mason closed his eyes and hauled her into a tighter embrace as he tucked his face into the curve of her neck and shoulder. “I fucking hope not,” he muttered thickly.

  After a moment, he lifted his head to look down at her.

  Damn, she was stunning. Passionate and prideful and beautifully fierce.

  He shook his head slowly as he asked with his heart in his throat, “You really want to marry me?”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  “And you love me?”

  “I do.”

  “Because once I make you my wife, that’s it. You’re mine forever.”

  “Yes, I know.” She smiled.

  And then the words were suddenly there. Pressing insistently against his lips. Forceful. Undeniable. And true. “I love you.”

  Though she’d already declared as much, the pleasure in her smile and in the depths of her eyes when he said it himself told him he’d be saying those words a lot.

  Epilogue

  Two months later

  Mason snuck into the Mayfair mansion through the garden entrance. All was silent. As expected for the late hour. Though stealth wasn’t his strong suit, he did his best to lessen the noise of his movements by shedding his heavy, rain-soaked greatcoat and wet boots and leaving them by the door before creeping quietly down the hall.

  He didn’t get far before he stopped abruptly to listen.

  An unexpected sound. And not far away.

  A sneaking suspicion arose and he continued carefully forward. Then he saw it—the subtle glow of candlelight flickering in the room ahead.

  Emboldened, he approached the doorway to risk a peek inside.

  Just as he’d thought.

  “Papa!”

  Claire saw him first. Warmth rushed through him as her soft cheeks widened in a smile. She lifted a sugary pastry in his direction. “Sweets.”

  He chuckled and strode forward to where his daughter sat atop the tall wooden table. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he glanced over her head and met his wife’s dark gaze.

  Contentment.

  Such an odd word. And an even odder feeling. But he was getting used to it.

  He drew back to ask softly, “Another nightmare, sweet pea?”

  Claire stuck her bottom lip out in a pout as she nodded sadly.

  “Spiders,” Katherine clarified.

  Relief washed through him. Claire’s memories of the time she’d been abducted were slowly fading away. Nightmares about spiders were a welcome exchange. “You know I won’t let anything hurt you. Not even spiders.”

  Claire shook her head. “No hurt spiders!”

  Mason glanced to Katherine with a raised brow.

  “Claire was trying to save the spider from a giant boot.”

  “I see,” he murmured thickly as he slowly wrapped the little girl in a strong embrace. “You’re a kind, brave girl, you are.”

  After a moment, Claire wriggled to be free. He released her and she immediately stuffed a huge bite of pastry in her mouth.

  Katherine had come around to his side of the table and he turned to take her in his arms next. She melted against him, her arms encircling his neck as she raised her face for a kiss. It was quick and chaste, but it still stirred his blood.

  “How is it going?” she whispered.

  Pulling back, he looked into her eyes and felt a connection unlike anything he’d known before. It startled him sometimes.

  He considered evading her question but knew it’d be futile. His jaw clenched. “It’s damned dangerous. Not for me. But Warfield...”

  She frowned. “What can I do?”

  He stopped her with a quick squeeze and a sharp shake of his head. “Nothing, luv.”

  She nodded, but before she could reply, a newcomer in nightshirt and robe stumbled into the kitchen. Combing a hand back through sleep-tousled hair, Freddie glancing about in confusion. “What’s this?”

  Mason gave a grunt. “Midnight nibbles. And you’re late.”

  The boy angled his head to see past Mason and Katherine to the table. “What’ve we got, then?”

  “Sweets!” Claire offered cheerily.

  “Perfect.”

  As Freddie stepped up to the table and began an intent discussion with Claire over which pastry he should choose, Katherine turned in Mason’s arms. But he wouldn’t let her step away. With her back pressed snug to his front, he doubled his arms around her and lowered his head to press a kiss to her temple.

  Wife. Family. Home.

  More words that were quickly becoming essential to his existence.

  She sighed and dropped her head against his shoulder to smile up at him.

  But the best one by far...was love.

  Coming Soon from Amy Sandas

  TENDER BLACKGUARD

  Peril & Persuasion - Book Two

  A childhood in the rookery taught Lark Evans two things; how to survive in a perilous world and that people deserving of loyalty are rare and precious. When her closest friend goes missing after sending a cryptic warning, Lark has only one option. She takes a position as housekeeper to the mysterious Lord Warfield, hoping to gain access to the dark and elegant world from which her friend disappeared.

  Alastair Blackwell never wanted his father’s wealth and title, but upon the Marquess of Warfield’s death, he discovers a secret too malevolent to ignore. A secret that links back to Alastair’s mother and his own ignoble birth. To purge the demons of his past and prevent others from suffering a similar fate, he vows to destroy the arcane world his father once ruled.

  As Lark creeps ever deeper into the shadows surrounding the gentlemen of Curzon Street, everything suggests her handsome, enigmatic employer is one of them. She fears her fascination with the man is clouding her better sense and diverting her from her purpose. Still...despite his cold, wicked gaze, her instinct urges her to trust him.

  When Alastair looks into the rebellious gaze of his staid and proper housekeeper, he knows she’s hiding something. He soon discovers her quiet manner masks wounds as deep as his own and a heart far braver than any he’d ever known. He should keep her as far as possible from the evil she seeks, but she could be the key to ending it all.

  TENDER BLACKGUARD

  Now available for pre-order!

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  Also by Amy Sandas

  Peril & Persuasion

  Noble Scoundrel

  Reformed Rakes Novella

  Wicked

  Dangerous

  Brazen

  Regency Rogues

  Rogue Countess

  Reckless Viscount

  Rebel Marquess

  Relentless Lord

 
; Standalone

  Kiss Me, Macrae

  Reformed Rakes Box Set

  Watch for more at Amy Sandas’s site.

  About the Author

  Amy grew up in a small dairy town in northern Wisconsin and after earning a Liberal Arts degree from the University of Minnesota – Twin Cities, she eventually made her way back to Wisconsin (though to a slightly larger town) and lives there with her husband and three children. She spends her early mornings writing before heading off to her day job. The rest of her time is spent trying to keep up with the kids and squeeze in some stolen moments with her husband.

  Read more at Amy Sandas’s site.