One Rogue Too Many

by Samantha Grace

  She notched up her chin. “Maybe you need more practice.”

  “Maybe I do, you impertinent minx.” He leaned closer and the butterflies intensified. He cupped the back of her neck; his thumb traced her jaw. “Tell me when I have improved.”

  His lips were unexpectedly tender and caught her off guard. His last kiss had been bruising, a punishment for goading him.

  He pulled back far enough to meet her gaze, his fingers massaging her neck. She began to dissolve under his touch. He softly nipped her mouth. “Kiss me back.” His whisper brushed across her skin and sent chills racing through her.

  She pressed her lips firmly against his, kissing him the only way she knew how. When she tried to pull away, he gently held her in place.

  “Like this, sweetheart.” He claimed her mouth again. Parting her lips, he feathered his tongue across hers. She sighed, her breath flowing into him. She had no idea kissing could be like this.

  He teased and coaxed until she mimicked his movements, awakening a fire in her too long lying dormant. It flared and burned hotly as she scrambled to get closer to him.

  Anthony hugged her against his hard chest, her hand lying between them. Her fingers trailed through the sprinkle of soft hair where his shirt parted. She drew back to see him. Tentatively, she explored the contours of his chest and shoulders, memorizing him to draw later. She was being too bold, and yet she’d known and loved him for so long.

  “Will you remove your shirt so I may see you?” she asked, her voice breaking.

  His hooded gaze, so intensely centered on her, stole her breath. For a moment, she thought he would deny her, but then he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

  Her heart beat in a frenzy as she tried to reconcile that this masculine body belonged to him. He’d filled out since she had stolen a peek at the lake. She touched her fingertips to his taut skin, her eyes drinking him in.

  “Amazing,” she murmured.

  A low growl sounded in his throat and he pulled her beneath him, his mouth on hers again. The armrest cradled the back of her head as his feverish kisses muddled her thoughts. His lips were everywhere: her mouth, her chin, her neck. Her breasts tingled and grew heavy as he kissed his way down her body.

  He untied the sash of her apron-front gown and peeled the muslin down. Trailing his finger over the swell of her breast, he smiled. “You’re amazing.”

  Before she could respond, he lifted her breast from her corset and took it in his mouth. She sucked in a breath. His lips and tongue were gentle, but the pressure building in her core was disconcerting. And exciting.

  When she moaned and grasped his shoulders to hold him tightly, he answered with a low groan. She grew restless beneath him and he returned to kissing her, covering her breast with his hand. She arched into his touch. Lightly, he pinched her nipple as he plundered her mouth, his hips pressing her into the cushions.

  The harsh rush of their breath filled her ears as she eagerly returned his kisses. Grasping a handful of her skirts, he jerked them up to expose her drawers. He stole inside her undergarment and caressed between her legs. She cried out in surprise.

  Anthony drew back, his blue eyes burning. She couldn’t look away even as he swept his fingers over her again. Never had she felt anything so intensely. She stared at him, her lips parted, breathing unsteadily. Something frightening churned behind his darkened eyes. Something bound to consume her if she allowed it, but she didn’t care.

  “God, you are too tempting,” he said with a sigh, then pulled his hand away. She missed the warmth immediately.

  “Please, don’t stop.”

  He caressed her again. “I don’t want to, but I should.”

  She bit her lip and shook her head as another pleasurable wave washed over her. A soft cry burst from her.

  He chuckled breathlessly before returning to her breast. She sank into the settee with a sigh and closed her eyes. The things he was doing to her made her head fuzzy and she tingled in the most delightful places. But also she sensed she was approaching something…something powerful that caused her to breathe in sharp, short gasps. His fingers drove her forward into an unknown world, barreling so fast she could never stop.

  Never wanted to stop.

  When she reached the end, it was as sudden as slamming into a wall, but glorious. She cried out repeatedly as his hand pushed her further and further. At last, he stopped. She was both relieved and disappointed as she drifted slowly back into the world she knew. A sleepy haze settled over her. She lazily opened her eyes to find him unfastening his trousers. She jolted awake. “Anthony?”

  He froze, his clouded gaze clearing slowly. He fell back against the settee and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Good God. What was I thinking?”

  She couldn’t move. How unfair of her to stop him now.

  He readjusted her skirts and slanted a sheepish grin in her direction. “You look frightened to death. I hope you can forgive me.”

  She licked her lips nervously. Should she try to sit up? When the armrest became too uncomfortable, she wiggled into an upright position.

  “I didn’t intend to take things that far,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  She avoided eye contact as she retied her gown. What must he think of her, arriving on his doorstep and writhing beneath him like a heathen?

  He took her hand as he slid off the settee and lowered to one knee. “Gabby, I realize this must seem sudden, but I want to marry you.”

  “What? Why?” She tried to pull away, but he held on to her hand.

  “Because I want to marry you.”

  Gads, she knew what he was doing. He was trying to take the honorable path.

  “I—”

  His smile widened as he waited for her answer. “Say yes, Gabby.”

  She hadn’t dared to dream of this moment, but she wanted it too.

  “Please, say yes.”

  Pushing any reservations aside, she nodded.

  “Yes?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  ***

  Anthony arrived at Brooks’s the next morning earlier than usual. Sebastian Thorne was known to break his fast at the club, and they needed to have a little chat. He didn’t know what the baron was about pretending interest in courting Gabby, but it was a dangerous game.

  Anthony didn’t think Thorne was foolhardy enough to do anything that would compromise her. Any man would have to be cork-brained to risk her brothers’ wrath. But it would be equally dangerous to make her the object of one of his bets. Anthony glanced around the packed club, wondering which daft gent would accept one of Thorne’s challenges.

  Besides yourself? He grimaced. Well, maybe he had been stupid in the past, but his days of indulging Thorne were over.

  He found the baron sitting alone at a table with a cup of tea and the morning newssheet unopened beside the saucer.

  He grinned over the rim of the cup as he took a sip. “Missed me while you were away?”

  “As much as one would a bloody case of indigestion.” Anthony dropped into the chair across from him. He nodded at the newssheet. “You never read your copy. Why do you bring it?”

  “If I leave the house early enough and snag the paper on my way out, Mother and Eve never run across an ugly piece of gossip.”

  “Ah.” Anthony nodded. It was a shame people had nothing better to do than spread tales about Thorne’s family. Anthony had always held a bit of sympathy for him, not that he’d dare let on. The baron was meaner than a badger if he thought someone pitied him.

  A footman approached and set a plate of eggs and sausage in front of Thorne.

  Anthony sat forward, leaning his elbows on the table. “You’re either brave or very stupid.”

  “Come now, the sausage isn’t all that bad.” Thorne shook out his napkin with a smirk.

  “I think you know my meaning.”

  The baron cut into his eggs. “Am I to assume this has to do with Lady Gabrielle?”

  “You’re smarter than
you look, but still a numbskull. Don’t come begging me to be your second when the duke issues a challenge.”

  “And why would Foxhaven call me out? I’m properly courting the lady.”

  Anthony scoffed.

  “You think I’m lying.”

  “Not completely,” Anthony admitted, thinking of Thorne’s respect for his own sister. “But you have a talent for walking the line between proper and debauched.”

  Thorne popped a piece of sausage in his mouth and waved his fork at Anthony. “What’s your interest in the lady? Isn’t she like a sister to you?”

  “I hardly have brotherly inclinations toward her,” he drawled and hooked an elbow over the seat back. “She’s to be my wife. I’m on my way to make an offer.”

  “Is she now? Do you plan to club her over the head first then drag her to the altar? I can’t see her going willingly.”

  Anthony didn’t bother answering. “Just stay away from her. Besides, she’s not your type. She is a romantic.”

  “Egads,” he groaned in mock distress. “Not one of those.” He raised a hand to summon a footman and ordered two plates piled with sausage.

  “Yes sir.” The footman shot a quick look at Anthony, grinned, then hustled away.

  “You’ll have to loosen your corset if you eat all that,” Anthony said.

  Thorne pushed his half-eaten meal aside. “I have a way to settle which of us will continue courting the lady.”

  “There’s nothing to settle. By this afternoon, she will be my betrothed.”

  The footman returned with two plates quicker than Anthony expected and set one in front of him and one in front of Thorne. A low rumble began in the club as men began looking their way.

  Thorne’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “A contest to see which gentleman will step aside. Whichever man can shove the most sausages in his mouth—one end out, mind you—becomes the winner of the fair lady’s hand.”

  There was a shout for the betting book and a few men inched closer.

  Anthony shoved the plate away. “I’m not allowing a sausage to decide my fate.”

  Thorne’s dark eyebrow arched as if to counter his claim. “Very well. Then I refuse to back down. Either a plate of sausages decides the matter or the superior wooer takes the prize.”

  Lord Ledbery came over with the betting book and men began calling out their bets. Soon a crowd gathered around their table, someone bumping Anthony’s chair. Thorne met his gaze across the table and smiled.

  Bollocks! Once the baron set his mind to something, he wouldn’t quit. He’d be dogging Gabby’s heels morning and night until Anthony had her down the aisle.

  “Fine,” he growled and jerked the plate in front of him, upsetting the pile. It was the most ridiculous way to settle a matter, but Anthony would win and be done with it.

  Thorne grinned. “You may go first. Once you set the number, I will exceed it.”

  Anthony scowled, picked up a link, and defiantly shoved it in his mouth. Then another and another until his lips felt stretched to capacity. He paused to take a breath. The spices were already making his tongue tingle.

  Thorne slowly picked up a sausage from his plate and wagged it. “Done already? After only three?”

  “Just wait,” Anthony managed to grumble.

  The baron gestured for Anthony to continue. He slowly wedged two more sausages into his mouth and nearly choked on the grease sliding down his throat. His eyes began to water, but he held his ground.

  Anthony wiggled his tongue along the slippery casings, wondering how he would fit any more in his mouth. It seemed impossible, but he wasn’t going to let Thorne win. The sixth sausage was tougher than he’d anticipated, however. He eyed Thorne’s plate, trying to calculate the odds of the baron being able to beat five.

  “Come on,” Thorne goaded. “This is for the lovely Lady Gabrielle.”

  Anthony glared at him then continued the task with renewed determination. He did his best to shove one more sausage between the others, and he almost had it too when the sausage burst. Grease dribbled down his chin and plopped on his cravat and waistcoat.

  Damn!

  Thorne threw his head back, laughing so hard he almost fell out of his chair. Their audience also hooted with laughter, making Anthony feel like the butt of a joke. Well, let Thorne see how funny it was to have grease down his front. Anthony dislodged the links, dropped them on the plate, and snatched Thorne’s napkin from the table. He smacked his lips, trying to get rid of the horrible taste.

  “Let’s see you beat that number.” Anthony held up his cravat and cursed. He’d have to change and get rid of this disgusting taste in his mouth before he called on Gabby.

  Thorne was still laughing. When he sobered, he looked across the table, his eyes still shining with amusement. “Congratulations, Ellis. You are clearly the better man.”

  Anthony frowned. “What do you mean? Aren’t you going to try to win?”

  Thorne shrugged. “You know how to handle sausage. How am I to compete?”

  The gents in the club howled. Anthony’s face heated. Was this nothing more than a joke? Had Thorne intended to step aside the whole time? He couldn’t help laughing at himself. He pushed back from the table and pointed at the baron. “You are evil.”

  The baron grinned. “You have no idea.”

  Four

  When Foxhaven’s butler answered on Anthony’s first knock, he couldn’t help but see it as another sign of victory. Gabby must have told the old man to expect him today.

  “Good afternoon, milord.”

  “Yes, it is, Wesley.”

  The servant moved aside to allow Anthony entrance without observing the usual custom of taking his calling card. Anthony had been a frequent visitor to Talliah House for many years, and he knew Foxhaven’s servants almost better than his own.

  When Wesley spotted the flowers in Anthony’s hand, his brows came together like two woolly caterpillars knocking heads. “Are you here to see His Grace, milord?”

  He laughed. “What is the matter? Isn’t His Grace fond of dahlias?”

  “I couldn’t say, sir.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you could. Very well, perhaps Lady Gabrielle would like them instead. Could you have them placed in a vase for her?” Anthony surrendered the bouquet to Wesley, noting that the man’s frown lines deepened.

  He signaled to a maid who was passing through the foyer. “These are for Lady Gabrielle from Lord Ellis. Deliver the bouquet to her ladyship’s chambers.”

  “Yes, sir.” She curtsied, then bustled away with Anthony’s gift cradled in her arms.

  “This way, Lord Ellis. His Grace is in his study.”

  Anthony followed Wesley above stairs and waited outside the door while his presence was announced.

  “Show him in,” the Duke of Foxhaven said. Luke sounded happy to receive him.

  His old friend was rounding his colossal desk when Anthony entered and met him halfway to exchange a hearty handshake. “Ellis, it’s good to see you, my friend. I haven’t seen you since the wedding.”

  Although Anthony hadn’t come to engage in chitchat, he thought it mannerly to ask after his friend’s honeymoon.

  “It was more than satisfactory,” Luke said and gestured toward the seating area.

  Anthony selected a wingback chair, prepared to get to the business of asking for Gabby’s hand, but apparently Luke wasn’t finished.

  “Vivian had never been out of the country prior to our trip. It was invigorating to see the continent through her eyes. It was like I was seeing everything for the first time again.”

  “How novel.” Anthony was trying to feign interest.

  Trying being the key word.

  “Our first stop was Vienna.”

  Anthony suppressed the urge to groan and smiled politely. Luke had a tale for every stop he and his wife had made. And there were many. He had never known his friend to blather on about anything like he did his bride and their little adventure.

  When
Luke finally stopped to take a breath, Anthony pounced before he gathered a second wind.

  “That’s fabulous. Splendid indeed. Uh, could we speak of something else now?”

  Luke laughed. “By all means, and my apologies for boring you.”

  Anthony grinned sheepishly and leaned back against the chair. “Sorry. That wasn’t my meaning. I’m eager to discuss a matter, but I am also happy for you. Congratulations on your marriage.”

  “Thank you.” Luke propped his foot across his knee and began to jiggle his foot. Anthony fought the urge to tell him to be still. After all, he’d sat through Luke’s boring tales with patience.

  “What is it I can do for you, Ellis?”

  “You must have some idea of the reason I have requested an audience.”

  “Can’t say that I do.” Luke pulled his watch from his jacket pocket and grimaced. “Damn. I promised Vivian I would complete my business no later than one o’clock. Is this important, or could it wait until tomorrow?”

  “Of course it’s important!” Egads. Why else would he be requesting an audience? He sure as hell hadn’t come to Talliah House for an accounting of the duke and duchess’s honeymoon activities.

  Luke frowned and slipped his watch back into his pocket. “Go on, then.”

  Anthony exhaled, stirring the hair on his forehead, then forced a friendly smile. He needed to temper his impatience before he risked alienating his future in-law, which wouldn’t do at all since Gabby was rather attached to her family.

  “As I was saying, it’s a matter of great magnitude. I am here to ask for your blessing in marrying Lady Gabrielle. You have known of my regard for some time, and now that she has left off mourning, I want to offer for her hand.”

  “Oh.” Luke formed a steeple with his fingers and his frown returned. “Is my sister aware of your intentions?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have her consent.”

  “I see.” Luke nodded thoughtfully. “Well, this is a bit of a pickle.”

  “How so?”

  “Let’s have a drink.” Luke bolted from his chair and strode to the sideboard. He poured two fingers into crystal tumblers and brought one back to Anthony. He remained standing as he sipped his brandy. Slowly.