More Than a Rogue

by Sophie Barnes

  Griffin nodded, too relieved to do anything else as his muscles relaxed and his breaths evened out.

  “You risked all of our reputations this evening,” she went on, “because of some ancient caveman instinct you failed to quell.”

  His muscles drew tight once again and he moved toward her, deliberately dominating the space between them with his much greater size. As he’d expected, she took a step backward. “Was it misplaced?” he asked gently.

  She sucked in a breath and retreated some more, moving right when he cut off her path to the left. Until the dining room table brought her to a halt when her bottom bumped against it. “I…um…” She glanced over her shoulder as if to make sure that there was an obstacle in her way.

  Griffin moved in closer, more determined than ever to discover if they had a chance of sharing a future together – if tormenting himself for her would ever be rewarded. So he planted his hands on her waist and lifted her up, seating her on the edge of the table.

  “Griffin!” Surprise lent a breathy and thoroughly intoxicating element to her voice. Her hand went straight to his shoulder, gripping it firmly in an instinctive effort to keep her balance.

  A surge of heat hit him square in the chest in response to her use of his given name without the honorific. “Yes?” He pressed his thumbs gently into her waist before letting his hands slide down over her hips until they settled boldly on top of her thighs. Holding her gaze, he eased her legs apart to create a space for him to stand.

  Her eyes widened when he stepped in between, then again when he pushed up against her, right there were he knew he’d affect her the most. “This is…” her words turned into a sigh when he pulled her to him for added contact “…not very proper.”

  He gave a low chuckle and let his hands slide up her arms, over her shoulders, along her neck, and into her hair. “It’s nothing compared with what I am thinking.”

  Half dazed, her eyes met his from beneath lowered lashes. “That cannot be true.”

  The words reminded him of her innocence, causing him to examine his actions. His hands stilled on the verge of pulling pins from her coiffure. What the hell was he doing? He closed his eyes briefly and took a quick breath, inhaling her fragrance of lavender and soap. Jesus, he ought to be ashamed of himself for taking advantage, which was obviously what he was doing.

  “If you want me to go, then I will,” he said, forcing the words out with the sort of effort that ought to be rewarded with a medal.

  “I’m not sure what I want anymore,” she confessed in a voice so low he almost didn’t hear her.

  He opened his eyes, pulled a pin from her hair, and placed it on the table. “Perhaps it’s time to find out.” When she nodded, he continued undoing her hair until the locks cascaded over her shoulders. He ran his fingers through it, savoring the silky feel of it sliding against his skin while allowing himself to envision her in his bed, her hair spread loosely upon his pillow.

  Moving one hand to her jaw, he cradled her lightly while stroking her cheek with his thumb. She leaned into the touch with a sensual sigh that challenged his finely held control. Griffin dipped his head, almost grazing his lips with hers though not quite. He’d already made his position clear. If she wanted more, she would have to take the next step.

  So he waited for what felt like a hundred years, hovering there on the brink of kissing, until finally, blessedly, she raised her mouth to his.

  12

  Soft but firm.

  Emily felt the gentle press of his lips against hers just as keenly as when he’d kissed her at the ball. But unlike then, he did not draw away this time. Instead he stayed, allowing her to adjust to each new sensation: the slow exhale of his breath mingling with hers, a hint of brandy, the scent of sandalwood clinging to his skin, and the slight abrasion of stubble scraping her chin.

  Without even thinking, she wound her arms around his neck and drew him closer. A low rumble vibrated through him, like distant thunder warning of an approaching storm. Her fingers raked upward into his hair, and she felt his lips part on a tight inhalation, his hand flex against the curve of her cheek. He was holding himself in check, his body poised, every muscle tightly strung while he let her explore.

  Smiling against his mouth, she paused for a second to ponder how best to proceed and involuntarily licked her own lips and Griffin’s by proximity. The effect it had on him was almost explosive. He was like a slumbering beast brought awake with a start, pulling her to him as if he was starved and her mouth was the banquet on which he would feast. She gasped in response and he took advantage. He claimed her mouth with his own, tasting, biting, and licking. It was savage and needy, yet expertly done. She could tell he was skilled, so she let him guide her, submitting completely to his advances and loving every wild, uninhibited second of it.

  This was what she’d been seeking, this unleashed passion that brought her body alive. It heightened her senses and tuned her awareness until it aligned with his, each nerve ending sparking in response to each touch and wrenching new, unfamiliar sounds from her throat.

  When he broke away from her mouth, she whimpered in protest. Her hands tightened their hold on him, desperate to pull him back. Until he began planting soft little kisses along the edge of her jaw. She tilted her head then and loosed her grip, yielding to his expert ministrations. His teeth nipped her earlobe and she sucked in a breath, surprised by the pleasure the playful pinch gave her.

  “I could kiss you forever,” he murmured, his voice stirring the hair at the nape of her neck, sending lovely shivers racing down her spine.

  “This is certainly better than your previous attempt.” Where did that sultry voice come from? She didn’t even know she could speak like that, as she imaged a courtesan would.

  He chuckled against her, sending fluttery heat straight into her belly. “That was no attempt at all, you cheeky minx.”

  Before she could manage a response, his mouth captured hers again, more insistent than before, as if he had something to prove. Emily did her best to keep up, copying him in an effort to hone her own skills. His hand roamed over her shoulder, the tips of his fingers playing lightly with the neckline of her gown. His thumb grazed her breast.

  Yes.

  Please.

  She needed more. Needed him. His hands on her. Everywhere.

  Intent on encouraging him, she arched her back, pressing herself more firmly against him. He shuddered and he broke the kiss once again to rest his forehead against hers.

  “Emily...”

  His voice was rough and unsteady, his fingers so close to where she wanted them most. A series of low, labored breaths escaped him. She felt his chest rise and fall, a brief straining of limbs before they relaxed. He let his hand fall, placed a soft kiss at her temple, and took a step back.

  No.

  Emily stared at him, her body still hungry for something that she was convinced only he could give her. She wanted to grab him, shake him, rail at him for—

  “You should go. Before I take additional liberties.”

  She shook her head while he helped her stand, smoothed out her gown. “But I...” Dear God, she would be both honest and brave even if it killed her. She met his dark gaze. “I want to continue.”

  A nerve ticked at the edge of his jaw. “No.” He found her hand, raised it to his lips, and met her gaze while pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. “Not tonight.” His voice was firm, unyielding.

  So she went, swaying slightly on legs that seemed too weak to hold her. She paused before stepping into the hallway and looked back to find him watching, his body rigid, like he was struggling to stay where he was.

  “Go,” he urged her, “and make sure you lock your bedchamber door.”

  The reality of what she risked if she didn’t was evident in the strained tone of his voice. And now that a moment had passed since their kiss and she could think clearly again, she appreciated the effort he made to save her from making a terrible mistake. Because kissing was one thing, los
ing her innocence quite another.

  So she did as he told her, acutely aware that her feelings for him had quadrupled during the last ten minutes. Which meant careful consideration was in order, before she did anything further.

  When she woke the next morning, Emily stayed in bed for at least an hour. She stared at the ceiling while going over everything that had happened the night before, from the moment she’d put on the scarlet dress to when Griffin had told her to go to bed.

  Had he really kissed her as if the world were ending? She pressed her fingertips to her lips and smiled against them. Yes. He most certainly had. And it had been marvelously enlightening.

  She rolled onto her side with a grin. No wonder Mary was eager to sneak off with Caleb at every opportunity. It made sense if this was what they were doing.

  She bit her lip and felt her brow tighten with a frown. There was more to discover of course. Cassandra had told her enough to make her aware of that. And she’d also read a book or two in an effort to better understand why copulation appealed to so many people when it seemed like something that would be both awkward and uncomfortable.

  But if Griffin kissed her the way he had last night in the process, perhaps then...

  She sighed and pulled her pillow over her head. When she’d set out to learn what kissing entailed, she’d meant to leave it at that. Except now, she was apparently considering a whole lot more. With a man she’d fallen in love with. Only he would be leaving soon. Not for London or even Scotland, but for Austria, which might as well be China for all the difference it made.

  With a groan of frustration she sat, determined to stop her mind from babbling to itself. One thing was certain and that was that Griffin was interested. In her.

  She chuckled at that thought. Would their kiss last night lead to a deeper attachement between them? Would he let it? She had no idea.

  A knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” she called.

  Her mother entered, carrying a cup of tea. “I worried you might not be well.” She handed the tea to Emily, who took a grateful sip. “You’re usually up much earlier than this.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost ten.”

  Emily placed her cup on the table and went to find a dress. The one from last night was flung over a chair in the corner, reminding her once again of the kiss she’d shared with Griffin. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, averting her face so her mother would not see her blush. “You must be starving by now.”

  “Not really. Lord Griffin made breakfast.” When Emily stilled, her hand on the wardrobe door, her mother added, “He’s surprisingly capable.”

  No doubt about that.

  Emily’s cheeks grew hotter. Had his tongue really licked over hers? Good God. She would now have to face him. Without being sure where they stood with each other and without revealing anything to her mother. Her stomach rolled over on that realization.

  When she’d woken, she’d been too distracted by the lovely recollection of Griffin’s embrace to ponder the complexities of the situation. She did so now and was suddenly less eager to leave her bedchamber than she had been a moment earlier.

  What if he regretted it? After all, he had pushed her away in the end. What if he’d done so after realizing that the kiss had been a spontaneous mistake?

  She grabbed a dress, a green one, and turned to her mother. “I will be down in a moment. Thank you for the tea.”

  Her mother stared at her. “Are you sure you are well?”

  “Of course.”

  “You seem...flustered.”

  “I’m just surprised by how late I slept,” Emily said, a little too brightly. She avoided looking at her mother by going in search of clean undergarments and stockings.

  “Very well then,” her mother conceded. She paused, then went to the door. “I will see you downstairs.”

  As soon as she exited the room, closing the door behind her, Emily breathed a sigh of relief. Her shoulders sagged and she leaned the weight of her body against her dresser. If only she could stay up here, hidden away for the rest of the day. And tomorrow. At least until she believed herself capable of having a conversation with Griffin without being affected by the memory of their kiss. Which would likely be never.

  With a groan of frustration, she pulled off her nightgown and flung it on top of the scarlet dress. She was a grown woman, for heaven’s sake, independent and perfectly free to choose her own destiny. To let a man addle her like this was silly.

  So what if they’d kissed each other? It only confirmed that they shared a mutual attraction. That was all. Nothing more to it. And if things progressed and the opportunity for more arose, well then that would be all right with her too. She certainly wouldn’t worry over it. No point in that.

  Satisfied that she had overcome any doubts or concerns about seeing Griffin again, Emily entered the kitchen, ready to face him with a smile and a pleasant, “Good morning.”

  Except he wasn’t there. Only her mother was seated at the table. Hmm... Emily approached. Her mother glanced up from the piece of mending she was working on.

  “I found the sewing kit in the hallway cupboard. Hope you don’t mind me borrowing it.”

  “No. Of course not.” Emily frowned. “That looks like Bridget’s dress.”

  Her mother turned the garment over in her hands. “It was lying on top of the sewing kit together with a few more items, so when I finished repairing the tear in my petticoat, I decided to fix those as well. Do you mind?”

  “No. Of course not.” Emily pulled out a chair and sat. “But can’t Patsy do it?”

  “Oh, I have asked her to dust and sweep the downstairs rooms.”

  “Thank you, Mama.”

  A faint smile brushed Georgina’s lips. “I wish there were more I could do to make up for all my mistakes.” She slumped against her chair with a sigh. “You were my oldest daughter. The one who was meant to secure the best match.”

  Emily stiffened as bitterness rose up her throat. “Instead, I became your biggest disappointment.”

  “Yes. You did.” Emily’s mouth dropped open. Her mother’s brutal honesty was startling. “I blamed you for not securing a proposal when I ought to have blamed myself for being too pushy.”

  “And for insisting on hideous gowns.”

  Mrs. Howard’s lips quirked. “I mistakenly believed bright colors would draw attention.”

  “And they did, though not in the way you probably hoped.”

  “No.” Georgina set her mending aside and hesitantly placed her hand over Emily’s. “I know I frightened Langdon away when I went to see him. All I wanted was to have him propose, and instead I achieved the opposite.” She curled her fingers around Emily’s and squeezed. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  Emily met her mother’s gaze and felt the lingering resentment she harbored crack in response to the pain she saw there. She nodded. “Of course.”

  Her mother smiled and glanced briefly away, her eyes suspiciously shiny. A sniff followed along with a few rapid blinks. And then she jutted her chin toward a covered plate. “You should eat. Lord Griffin will likely be disappointed if you don’t.”

  Emily lifted the upside down bowl that had been used to keep her food warm and found scrambled eggs, sausages, and toast waiting. Her stomach growled in response to the appetizing meal. It looked and smelled delicious.

  “Where is he by the way?” Emily casually asked as she picked up her knife and fork.

  Her mother poured some tea for her before refilling her own cup. “In the library. He said he had some extra paint and that there were a few peeling spots in there he could patch.”

  Emily cut a piece of sausage and egg, spearing both with her fork before popping them into her mouth. Her mother picked up her sewing needle again and continued repairing the torn seam on Bridget’s dress. They exchanged a few words here and there, but for the first time ever, Emily found the silences in between comfortable.

  She left her mother after agreeing that they
should start packing in the afternoon so they would be ready to leave for Montvale the next day as planned. In the meantime, it was time for Emily to pluck up her courage and seek out Griffin. She paused outside the library and almost changed her mind when she felt her stomach twist. The door was open, allowing her a glimpse of his back. He was standing near the window, his head bowed over something that she presumed must be a book.

  Her heart quickened and her throat went dry. She’d slid her fingers through that hair ruffling over his jacket collar at the nape of his neck, had felt his thighs press into hers. Swallowing, she considered walking away, then chastised herself for her silliness.

  Pull yourself together!

  She raised her hand and rapped the door frame. Griffin turned, the book in his hands snapping shut as it came into view. Emily gasped. Of all the things he might have been reading. She stared at him and he stared back.

  Was that guilt in his eyes?

  She crossed her arms. “That’s mine.” She’d forgotten that she’d neglected to put the book back in her room before leaving for London.

  “I…er...I did not mean to pry,” he muttered with the same sheepish expression the children wore each time she caught them being naughty.

  “Of course not. You just happened to pick it up by accident and then it fell open and you couldn’t help letting your eyes roam over the pages.”

  His lips quirked. “They do have a will of their own.”

  She chuckled. Ordinarily, it would have embarrassed her to find him reading her notebook, but his visible discomfort managed to distract her. And besides, there was something enjoyable about unnerving him just a little.

  Emily moved further into the room. She glanced at her notebook, now lying face up on the table. “I ought to be angry with you.” She met his gaze and deliberately held it. “I ought to remind you that one does not read other people’s private notebooks.”

  “I didn’t realize what it was until I opened it, and then...” He blew out a breath. “I was too intrigued to stop.”