A Rogue in the Making (Forever Yours Book 11)

by Stacy Reid

  He flushed upon noticing Wentworth’s regard.

  “My lord, you are staring—”

  A hiccup stopped the rest of his words, and he giggled. Wentworth straightened in his seat when his valet glared at the decanter of brandy.

  “What sorcery is this?” he muttered, seeming befuddled.

  “You are not used to drinking,” Wentworth said slowly.

  “I…ah…I’ve only indulged because you invited me to, my lord.” Then he smiled again. Except, this time, it was different. This smile was brighter, wider, without a hint of reserve. And even more interesting his entire face glowed with the beauty of that smile.

  Wentworth’s heart jerked as the most improbable idea teased his thoughts. Not very gentlemanly of him, but he refilled the lad’s glass for a third time. “Come drink with me.”

  “I really should go…and…go and prepare your bath,” his valet replied through a series of hiccups. Despite that protest, he reached for the drink and took a few healthy swallows. “I think they’ve stopped,” he said with a sigh of relief.

  The lad pushed back his chair, stood, and wobbled. Wentworth surged to his feet and grabbed him about the shoulders to steady him. His valet peered up at him, and in his eyes, Wentworth saw an awareness, a touch of desire.

  Wentworth released him as if he’d been burned. “Go,” he said from between clenched teeth. “No need to prepare a bath, and I do not need help to undress.”

  The lad nodded, but he did not move. Instead, he sighed gutsily. “I feel warm,…and shivery. It is the oddest thing. I feel it every time I look at you.” He looked so young and vulnerable at that shocking confession.

  “You are tipsy,” Wentworth said.

  He made a soft, noncommittal sound. Julian lifted a hand and cupped Wentworth’s jaw. They both froze at the remarkable intimacy.

  “You are so very handsome,” he whispered. “I should not notice it…I dare not notice it, but it seems I cannot help it.”

  “Why do you not dare?” Wentworth demanded gruffly, feeling a bounder for taking advantage of the lad’s state. But how else could he assuage his curiosity when his valet was so forward?

  “Because you are my employer, and such wayward thoughts might compromise my ruse.”

  Good God. “What ruse?”

  “I…” Alarm chased across his face. “I…I feel…” He paused and yawned widely. “I believe I need to get into bed.”

  Wentworth gripped the lad’s hand, removed it from his face, and caught sight of the neatly manicured fingertips. The feel of his valet’s hand was soft and…bloody hell.

  His valet was a woman. Wentworth did his best to hide the shock blasting through him.

  Julian turned around and swayed, and Wentworth caught him and swung him into his arms.

  “I feel like I am floating,” a soft voice said.

  Sweet Mercy. The weight in his arms felt right…felt arousing.

  He hesitated. To carry him like this up the servant stairs would have their tongues wagging for weeks and might make life uncomfortable for his valet for quite some time. Swiftly deciding, Wentworth left the study and made his way up the stairs to his chamber.

  Once in his rooms, he lowered his valet in the center of his bed. A sigh of great comfort slipped from him…her, and she promptly fell asleep. Wentworth stared down at the creature before him, wondering if he was going mad. It was such a wild supposition to make. A lady disguised as a man and working as a valet. Utterly preposterous. Yet his thoughts would not move on from the idea.

  His valet’s speech suggested a man educated, but most manservants were required reading and writing skills. He seemed too nervous around him. And that stroke against his jaw, it had hinted at a longing, of want.

  “Perhaps I am going mad,” he muttered, cross with himself. It had been a simple touch to his face, how in God’s name did he decipher so much from that caress. “But a lady in the guise of a man would indeed summate to a ruse worth protecting.”

  Peering down at the body on his bed, he detected no womanly shape. Bindings were not miraculous cloths. He sat on the edge of the bed and slowly undid the neckcloth. Wentworth allowed his fingers to tease at the buttons, battling the urge to undo them.

  To take such advantage of his valet felt wrong, yet curiosity beat at him in unrelenting waves. He touched Julian’s chin, noting the soft, silky texture of his valet’s skin.

  What if I should undo these buttons and find a woman…what would I do? A hot, urgent feeling coiled low in his gut, and he released a shaky breath. Bloody hell, his thoughts and urges were that of a damn scoundrel.

  His valet batted his hand away and muttered, turning onto his side. Wentworth sighed. He had never behaved in an ungentlemanly fashion before. But he was tempted to do so now by rolling Julian over and removing his neckcloth and shirt to reveal what was underneath.

  Surely there were other methods for finding out if his valet was really a woman pretending to be a gentleman. A burst of thrill went through him, and he stood and walked over to the small writing table and chair near the fire and sat.

  Any sort of experiment tended to invigorate Wentworth’s blood. Retrieving one of his unused journals, he opened it, dipped the quill into the inkwell, and carefully outline his research with factual details.

  Problem: I find my valet attractive, but I am not bent toward the opposite sex. His speech is well mannered and eloquent, showing education above that of a valet, and his mannerisms are effeminate.

  Hypothesis: The valet is a lady in disguise.

  Method: Whether in disguise or not, a lady should not be able to hide her reflex reactions. A campaign to shock the valet’s senses will be undertaken while observing her reactions to certain improprieties.

  Have my valet aid me in my bath. A keen observation must be made when certain areas are being washed.

  I shall engage my valet in conversation regarding the fairer sex.

  I shall attempt to get remarkably close and try to steal a kiss. Any man or boy should recoil.

  Predictions:I expect my valet should heavily blush and avoid eye contact, and faint or flee when faced with touching of any kind with a man. She should also have heavy uncontrolled breathing, an evident blush, and possibly a feminine fragrance when her personal space is invaded.

  Analysis: I shall record my observations in a journal entry after each test.

  Conclusion: If my valet is not a lady, I shall chalk up my reactions to the man’s rear as a lapse in judgment. However, if the man is indeed a woman, the question needs to be answered, why does a lady who seems to bear me no ill will need to disguise herself as my valet? And what am I to do about this stubborn attraction?

  Chapter 5

  Juliana stirred slowly awake, then sharply inhaled with awareness. The earl was in her chamber. She smelled his uniquely masculine fragrance. Juliana shifted, tugging the sheets closer to her nose and inhaled deeply. She jolted, and her eyes flew open. Her sheets were not this soft and sweetly scented, her mattress was not so comfortable! With a jolting sense of shock, Juliana realized she was in the earl’s chamber…and in his bed. She lurched upright, her heart pounding a fierce rhythm.

  A quick glance revealed she was still dressed, but her boots had been removed, along with her jacket, and her neckcloth loosened. Oh! She swung her gaze wildly about the room, and then gasped, her hand fluttering to her chest.

  “I am in my bathing chamber, Julian,” the earl’s voice drawled. “And you’re to attend to me.”

  How was this possible? “Why am I in your bed, my lord?”

  She swallowed. Her voice had come out as a squeak and not the low husky murmur she practiced.

  “You got intoxicated last night. I could not leave you on the floor of the library.”

  “Drunk?” A vague memory of him inviting her to drink with him floated through her thoughts. She felt a leaden weight settle in her stomach, and Juliana covered her face with her hands. How could she have been so foolish?

  “Ye
s, do you not recall the events of last night?”

  The amused predatory way he said that had her mouth falling open. Dear God! Yet she could form no reply.

  A splash sounded. “My good man, my back needs scrubbing.”

  She pushed off the bed, grabbing her clothes from the valet stand, and hurriedly rearranged her neckcloth and put on her jacket. “I will be right with you, my lord.”

  Stooping, Juliana donned her shoes, her mind churning. The earl had never asked her to attend him with his bath before. Why was he doing so now? Of course, she knew it was usually the duty of a valet, but he hadn't done so for the last several days.

  Did he suspect her?

  Do not be silly, she chided herself, if he had suspected me, the earl would have booted me from his home on my arse, not ordered me to bathe his naked body.

  She hurried to his private bath chamber to find he was immersed in a large and most luxurious tub. The walls and floor were of blue and white marble, and a had a sunken bath with spigots for hot and cold running water. The modernization of his manor’s bath chamber plumbing saves the maids from the arduous task of lugging pails of hot water up flights of stairs.

  His hair was wet and curled at his nape. She kept her eyes glued there, overwhelmingly conscious of how alone they were, of how hazardous this situation had become.

  He was naked.

  “My lord,” she began. “The maids who brought up the water did they—”

  “Your figure in my bed was just a lump under the covers, Julian.”

  “Where did you sleep, my lord?” she closed her eyes, wanting the ground to part and swallow her. Why did she ask that?

  He was silent, and it was as if she could feel his amusement.

  “My back,” he murmured.

  She took the soap and lowered to her knees behind him. Without looking down, she dipped it into the water and then brought it to his shoulders. Juliana rubbed the bar against his skin, creating a gentle lather. Her motions were slow as she carefully soaped the expanse of his shoulders and upper back, which were surprisingly muscular.

  He shifted, leaned forward for her to reach his lower back. Her gaze landed on his hands, which gripped each edge of the bath as if they were lifelines.

  Did she affect him?

  Her heart started to pound, and she rubbed his back as quickly as possible. She took a washrag and repeated her motions, closing her eyes so as not to ogle the golden and muscular expanse of his skin.

  “I slept beside you,” he unexpectedly murmured. “You are a fascinating sleeper.”

  She felt her breath catch at his outrageous remark, and she dropped the soap into the water. Juliana scrambled to her feet, utterly at a loss as what to say. Then the earl gripped the edges of the tub and hauled himself to his feet.

  Juliana almost fainted.

  His thighs and calves were thick, his buttocks lean, and his back and shoulders delineated with muscle. Water sluiced off his powerful frame as he stepped from the tub and turned around. The earl seemed oblivious to his nudity, while she experienced an acute awareness of it, of him.

  Juliana had never seen a naked body before. She wanted desperately to look away but could not. The earl…he was a fine specimen. His body was muscled in wonderful proportions, his skin tone even and implied he swam outdoors in the nude. The very idea was naughty and decadent.

  At her mute regard, his sensual mouth curled at one corner. It was a smile…one that was almost a dare, one she wouldn’t have associated with the scholarly earl. Juliana belatedly realized the man before her did not resemble a scholar in any way…but more of a libertine bent on seduction.

  Suddenly, the air in the room felt too thick, too tension-filled.

  Oh, God, does he know I am a girl, or did he fancy the opposite sex?

  She wanted to pretend indifference to his charms but couldn’t manage it. There was a slight trembling of her body, and her heart pounded so hard. The pit of Juliana’s stomach fluttered, and there was a hot, startling ache between her thighs. The response felt strange, primitive, but also right.

  “Bring the towel and come here.”

  That command had her taking a step back, but her damnable curiosity continually betrayed her, and she swept her gaze slowly over his perfectly formed chest and down…a strangled gasp escaped her, and she froze.

  His manhood, a thing she had only ever seen in museums, was not so small as those paintings and sculptures implied! And under her gaze, it lengthened and grew fat. Her mouth fell opened and a very embarrassing squeak emitted from Juliana.

  “My good man, I am frightfully curious about the blush reddening your cheeks,” the earl said with mild amusement in his tone.

  Oh!

  Her gaze snapped up. The handsome lines of the earl’s face were heightened by an expression she had never seen on another. It was intense…and caused her belly to get even hotter. She clasped her cheeks, finding them frightfully heated. Too rattled to proffer any reply, she grabbed the towel through over the screen and flung it at him. Then Juliana whirled around and fled from his chamber as if the devil chased her.

  Closing the door with a much too hard slam, she leaned against it, her chest lifting with her harsh breathing. Juliana stiffened, wondering if that very sensual and amused laughter from inside the chamber was her imagination.

  Good heavens, what does this mean?

  Nothing, she scolded herself fiercely.

  It was customary for a valet to assist his master in a bath. It was also expected for the valet to towel dry his master if required.

  But it is not normal to run away like a frightened rabbit at the sight of a naked man!

  She smoothed her features, drawing upon all her resolve to not betray her thoughts or feelings. Reaching deep inside for equanimity, Juliana opened the door and entered the earl’s chamber. He had withdrawn from his bath chamber to his sleeping quarters, and the dratted man was still naked! He was slowly toweling his hair, the muscles of his shoulder rippling and twisting.

  He turned, an expression of surprise and then admiration lit in his eyes.

  “You came back.”

  “Yes, of course, my lord.”

  His lips twitched, and his brown eyes grew warm. “I thought you would have run all the way to London, my good lad.”

  He is still calling me, ‘good lad.’ That was most certainly a good sign. Her shoulders relaxed, and the tight feeling in her belly eased.

  “I could only get rid of the bug outside, my lord.”

  “Ah, it was a bug?”

  She lifted her chin. “Of course, why did you think I dashed out so hurriedly.”

  He arched a brow and looked like he was suppressing laughter. “And what kind was it?”

  Annoyed, she briskly said, “I didn’t look once I got the critter out of my pants.”

  The earl laughed, the sound low, husky, and very devilish.

  Juliana offered him a bland, and hopefully, professional smile. “I shall dry your back and shoulders if you still wish it, my lord.”

  “How composed you are,” he murmured provokingly. “I believe I have the matter in hand.”

  Relief swelled inside, but she did her best to not reveal that reaction. “Of course, I will layout your clothes for the day.”

  Her stomach chose the moment to grumbled embarrassingly.

  “It is already late. Go and break your fast.”

  She hesitated, tempted to stay, and insist on completing her duties, but also understood a lifeline when she saw one. “Since I am not needed, I shall go and have something to eat, my lord.”

  She bowed and withdrew from the earl’s chambers, careful not to appear jittery despite the wild thumping of her heart and her trembling knees.

  Chapter 6

  His valet really might be a young lady.

  On the heels of the very thought, Wentworth’s cock surge to life with maddening eagerness. With a silent curse, he tugged on his banyan, uncaring he soaked the material. Wentworth took a few steps tow
ard his door and had to forcefully halt himself. It was madness to even think to chase his servant and question him...her.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. What would he say? Accuse the man of being a lady in disguise? Wentworth had nothing to go on but a few delightful blushes and the raw desire that had flickered in those lovely eyes just now.

  In his thoughts, he could no longer think of Julian as a male. It just did not correspond with his visceral desires and imaginations.

  Do not be so quick to prove your theory, he silently reminded himself.

  What if his valet was still a lad in the throes of first passion? Bloody hell! Calming his thoughts, he went over to the writing desk in his room and retrieved his journal.

  Journal Entry Two

  Wentworth stared at the words he wrote, wondering exactly what he should record. The first phase of his experiment had gone really well, and he was fifty percent certain his valet was a lady. When Julian had first run away, Wentworth’s certainty had been like an uncrushable rock, but the lad had returned, admirably composed and unflinching.

  How brave you are.

  A young miss with delicate sensibilities might not have acted with such equanimity after seeing a naked man on the brink of arousal. He closed his eyes against the memory of that gaze caressing over his body, that look of awe, the blush, and heat in those lavender eyes. That primal and genuine reaction, the rise and fall of her chest, that tight swallow, the hard bite on her bottom lip…surely that was the behavior of a person who wanted him. And he, in turn, wanted her, desired her, more than was rational.

  Their attraction was decidedly mutual, and he wasn’t altogether certain what was his next step. Or why it was even necessary for him to take a step forward. Wentworth did not feel like himself. He was enjoying this little experiment far too much, and it had nothing to do with scientific theories and discovery.