More Than a Rogue

by Sophie Barnes

  “You know I don’t care about that.” Her voice was small and weak.

  Griffin reached for her hand, so cold he wanted to breathe heat into her skin. “God, Emily, I’m so sorry. Please…please look at me, darling.”

  She shook her head and his heart crumpled.

  “The truth is that the scar does matter. To me.” Even though her eyes remained closed, her fingers wove between his, causing hope to stir in his soul. “It has ruined my face and made me feel lacking. Overcoming that feeling of insecurity has been a difficult struggle. In instances like tonight it prompts me to wonder why you would ever choose me over someone who’s perfect.”

  She opened her eyes then and gazed up into his face. A lone tear spilled from her lashes and trickled slowly down her cheek. “No man is more perfect than you, Griffin.” She reached up to trail the tip of her finger over his scar. “And if you’ll allow me, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to convince you of that fact.”

  Undone by the honesty in her voice and her fierce determination in spite of the pain he'd caused her, Griffin pulled her from the opposite bench and straight onto his lap.

  She didn’t resist, for which he thanked his lucky stars. After everything he’d put her through, he knew he would be the luckiest man in England when she eventually spoke her vows.

  If she still wanted to do so.

  To think she might not made his chest crack open in fear. His arms closed around her with a fierceness that almost surprised him. The need to hold her, to feel her warmth, and to somehow communicate the depth of his feelings for her was so necessary to his peace of mind that he worried he’d never be able to let her go again.

  Inhaling deeply, he breathed her in, allowing her sweet aroma to awaken his senses. Christ, how he’d missed her; the way her flesh dipped beneath his fingertips and how a loose lock of her hair brushed against his cheek when he drew her more firmly against him.

  “What can I do to earn your forgiveness?” he asked against the delicate curve of her jaw.

  “Trust me.” Her fingers found their way into his hair, raking a path that caused vibrating sparks to erupt all over his scalp. “Believe me when I say that you are the only man I want. The only man I will ever want. Not only because you’re my perfect match, but because I love you, Griffin. Because I shall always love you.”

  “And I shall always love you, Emily. But there may be moments like this when the past interferes. When my insecurities and the mistrust I’ve been taught to harbor threaten to ruin everything. And I’ll need you more than ever then, to remind me that it’s an illusion and that what we have together is real.”

  She kissed him then, her mouth settling perfectly over his in the dark interior of the carriage. The press of her lips was soft and gentle and sweet, but also incredibly direct. It was as if she was silently saying, “I will always be here for you, Griffin. I understand you and I forgive you.”

  He answered her by deepening the kiss, by drawing her breath into his mouth so her soul could merge with his. One palm settled firmly against her back to hold her steady while the other grasped hold of her waist.

  No longer a novice at kissing, she nipped his lip with her teeth. The sharp little pinch caused desire to shoot through his body. More so when she gave a low chuckle, suggesting she knew precisely what she was doing.

  Abandoning her mouth, Griffin pressed a series of kisses to her jaw and smiled against her skin. This was the reason for his hasty return, this fervor with which she responded to him, the way she seemed to crave his touch as much as he craved hers.

  The carriage bumped, jostling her against him in a way that made it damned hard for him to hide his physical response. Not that he wanted to do so, but considering her innocence, there was a good chance it would frighten her away.

  But rather than scramble off his lap and return to the opposite bench as he’d half expected her to, she pushed herself closer, as if seeking the same relief he so desperately needed.

  “Emily…” His hand moved to her thigh, holding her steady while he wished…oh, how he wished they were anywhere else but in a hackney carriage headed for Camberly House.

  Swallowing, he bowed his head against the curve of her neck and breathed her in. She deserved to be cherished and adored, and he, by God, needed to show her how much he loved her.

  “The wedding is next Saturday, is it not?”

  A sharp inhale was her first response, as if her brain was forced to adjust to the idea of speaking. “Yes.” Her voice was breathy, her body moving in a quiet plea for him to respond to her more fully.

  Griffin tamped down the elementary urge to rip her gown from her body and ravish her right then and there. Instead, he forced himself to say, “I won’t ruin our wedding night, Emily.” A statement that served as both a promise to her and a stern reminder to himself. “But I can give you this.” And with that pronouncement he swept his hand under the hem of her skirt, skimming past her ankle, her calf, and her thigh.

  A small gasp was followed by, “Dear God, Griffin,” and then, a soft moan of approval as she relaxed against his touch and surrendered to the pleasure he so desperately wanted to give her.

  19

  Emily’s stomach started to flutter like a giant butterfly when her mother came to inform her that Griffin had come to call the next day. He’d said he would last night when he’d bid her goodnight. After arriving at Camberly House, he’d alit and instructed the coachman to return her to Vauxhall, leaving her to ponder the extraordinary sensations he’d evoked in her while she made the journey back.

  She’d continued to do so when she’d crawled into bed later. The powerful sensations he’d evoked in her body had been like water being brought to a slow simmer before rolling into a forceful boil.

  And God help her, she wanted more.

  A fact she was quite certain showed on her face for her cheeks felt unbearably flushed. But if her mother noticed, she said nothing as she showed Emily into the parlor where Griffin waited. He stood as soon as they entered, his gaze locking on Emily with an intensity that caused a flare of heat to charge through her. The edge of his mouth lifted, producing that mischievous smile she loved so much. And then he bowed while holding her gaze.

  “It is such a pleasure to see you again, Emily. Indeed, it has been far too long.”

  No one else had seen him at Vauxhall, so when she’d returned after being absent for forty minutes, she’d concocted a story about a friend whom she’d not encountered in years. She’d apologized to David for leaving him on the dance floor, but had claimed it was necessary since her ‘friend’ had been heading for the exit. Which was partly true. The biggest fib had been saying that she’d also gotten distracted by the fireworks and lost her way when she’d tried to locate everyone again. Mary had not looked convinced, but at least the rest of the party had seemed to believe her. Most importantly, her parents had.

  “I’ve asked one of the maids to bring up some tea and cake,” Georgina announced in a bright tone of voice that instantly snuffed out the embers Griffin had ignited in Emily with his heated gaze.

  She moved to the sofa on which he’d been sitting and lowered herself to the spot next to his. Her mother claimed one of the armchairs. “I trust you are well,” Emily forced herself to say. After all, was that not an appropriate question if one had not seen one’s fiancé for a month? A quick glance at her mother assured her that there was nothing wrong with it, so Emily straightened her shoulders and forced herself to look at the man who’d shown her the stars last night in a carriage.

  “Indeed,” he murmured, the low timbre of his voice a reminder of searing kisses and scandalous caresses.

  She shifted in her seat. “How did you find your friend?”

  “Better than I had feared.” He smiled then, a different kind of smile than the mischievous variety he favored, but rather one filled with warmth and appreciation. “I’ve arranged for my business to be rebuilt and have offered Edvard the position of manager.” The tea and cake arr
ived, and as they partook of it, he went on to explain how he meant for his plans to be accomplished and described his intention to create a similar shop in London. “We can hire someone else to run it, so we’re not tied to the city ourselves,” he quickly added.

  “You’re the clockmaker though, so would it not be necessary for you to be where the shop is?” Emily asked. She wasn’t particularly eager to live in London, but she also recognized that it might be essential to Griffin’s work.

  “Not really. I see no reason why I cannot make the merchandise anywhere I choose and simply have it brought to the shop. All I’ll really need is a talented salesman.” He waited for Emily to put down her teacup, then reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I meant what I said when I told you I’d give you the house in the country. The last thing I want is for you to abandon your dream.”

  Emotionally undone by his thoughtfulness, Emily could only manage a smile and a nod. She feared that any attempt to speak would lead to tears. Especially when he retrieved a package wrapped in creamy silk and tied with lace ribbons. A pink rose had been tucked beneath the bow.

  “Open it,” he urged her after placing the package in her lap.

  Emily hesitated only the second it took her to admire the pretty wrapping. He’d put thought into this, and that idea alone made her heart swell with joy. Taking care, she gave the ends of the ribbon a tug, undoing the bow and releasing the rose. She pressed it to her nose and inhaled its sweet fragrance, then handed it to her mother and proceeded to pull back the fabric.

  A gorgeous metal case crafted from gold came into view, the lid a dazzling display of bright colors painted on porcelain to depict a lady and gentleman strolling along a riverbank. Tipping it open, Emily was greeted by a deep red velvet interior, so plush and inviting to the touch that she could not stop from brushing her fingers against it.

  “It’s a music box,” Griffin told her, his voice soft and intimate, as if it were just the two of them in the parlor without her mother present. “I found it in the rubble when I went to inspect the damage caused by the fire. It was blackened and tarnished by soot, but the works were intact and so was the interior, which reminded me of you and how lovely you looked that evening we went for dinner at Partridge House.” He didn’t need to say that it brought to mind their first real kiss. This was implied in the way his knee pressed into hers as he spoke. “Restoring it was painstaking work, but it’s a piece of my past and…” his voice grew rougher “…a testament to my undying love for you.”

  “It’s incredibly stunning,” Georgina said, reminding Emily of her presence. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such fine craftsmanship before.”

  “Griffin’s work is exemplary, Mama. He is the best at what he does and this box...” She slid her thumb over the smooth, cool surface, loving how glassy it felt to her touch. Looking up, she met his light brown eyes, now swirling with a blend of eager anticipation and fierce emotion. “I shall cherish it forever.”

  His nostrils flared and his jaw tightened just enough to suggest that the restraint he was forced to endure right now while in company was starting to test his discipline.

  Expelling what sounded like a tortured breath, he inclined his head. “It pleases me greatly to hear you say that.”

  Taking pity on him and wishing she was able to express herself more openly, Emily turned to her mother. “Considering the fine weather today, I thought I might show Lord Griffin the garden.”

  Georgina stared back at her for a long, unbearable moment, then slowly nodded. “Yes. It will give you a chance to apprise him of the wedding preparations you have made in his absence.”

  “Of course,” Emily agreed, even though wedding preparations was the last thing on her mind at the moment. Instead, she meant to show him the bench behind the rhododendron bushes – the only place where they could be properly hidden from view and where she would have the liberty to show him precisely how grateful she was for his gift.

  Emily woke on her wedding day with hope in her heart, a hope that expanded and grew in response to the sunshine spilling through her bedroom window. It created a golden haze of surreal light that brought floating dust motes into focus and bathed the space in happiness.

  A smile pulled at her lips as she stretched her arms over her head. In a few short hours, she would be Lady Griffin and nothing in the world sounded better to her than that. It infused her languid body with energy and prompted her to jump out of bed. She could not wait to see Griffin again and to be reassured that he truly would be her husband and that the life she was currently living wasn’t a dream.

  It had felt like one this past week since his return from Vienna. Following his visit to her home, he’d arranged for additional ways in which to see her. Including a night out at the opera, a couple of walks in the park, and lunch at Mivart’s Hotel where everyone, including David, had been present. Griffin was in fact making an effort to put his innate dislike of David behind him and had even gone so far as inviting David to join him for billiards at White’s one evening. When Caleb had mentioned this to Emily in passing, her love for Griffin had grown tenfold, for she knew he was doing it for her and Laura so a rift would not arise between them.

  Pouring water into her washbasin, Emily proceeded to clean her face. She’d taken a hot bath last night before bed, so she wouldn’t have to spend time on that in the morning. A soft knock sounded at the door, and Emily called for whoever it was to enter. As she expected, it was her mother, coming to make sure she was awake.

  “I’ve brought Patsy to help you dress and some breakfast for you to eat while she sets your hair.”

  “Thank you, Mama. I’m actually really hungry, now that I think of it.”

  “That’s a good thing,” Patsy said as she laid out the undergarments the modiste had sworn would ensure a sizzling start to the marriage. Emily blushed as she looked at the creamy silk stays. Embroidered with deep red roses and climbing green vines, they matched the design on the garters and stockings. “It will be several hours before you’re able to eat again, and the last thing you want is for your stomach to grumble while you’re saying your vows.”

  There was no denying that, Emily thought with a grin. She took her seat at her dressing table where her mother had placed the tea and plate filled with slices of toast. She picked the one topped with raspberry jam and took a big bite, savoring the syrupy sweetness.

  “Now, I realize we’ve had our differences over the years,” Georgina said while Patsy proceeded to undo Emily’s plaited hair so it could be combed, “but I am still your mother and as such, it is my duty to advise you on what you might expect once you are married.”

  Oh. They were about to have that discussion.

  Emily took a sip of her tea. If only a few drops of brandy could have been added for extra fortification. A pause followed, during which she imagined her mother’s brain working on how to address this delicate subject as efficiently and satisfactorily as possible. Emily took another bite of her toast and winced when Patsy’s comb caught a knot in her hair.

  “Sorry, Miss,” Patsy said. “It’s a little bit tangled here.”

  “Considering you have been living with a…deflowered woman these past six years,” Georgina continued, “I would imagine that you’re not completely ignorant of what can happen between a man and a woman when they…er…like each other a lot.”

  Emily hid a smile behind her teacup. Was it wrong of her to be slightly amused by her mother’s increasingly flustered state? Probably. But she just couldn’t help it. Nor could she stop herself from saying, “What do you mean?”

  “Well. I…er… Hmm.” Georgina dropped onto the bed with a huff. Another pause followed, during which Patsy swept locks of hair up at the back of Emily’s head before pinning them in place. “When I married your father,” Oh dear God, “I was led to believe that he would want to take certain liberties with me that—”

  “You need not explain any further,” Emily managed to choke out past a crumb that had lodge
d itself in her throat. She coughed. “I am perfectly aware of what to expect.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” She sighed. In the mirror, she could see that Patsy was making a valiant effort to refrain from laughing. “Cass did tell me a thing or two over the years, and I’ve also read a couple of book on the subject.”

  “Oh.” A sigh of relief followed. “Well then. That is good to know. And Griffin does look as though he’s more than capable of—”

  “Mama!”

  “What? I may be over forty, but that doesn’t mean I can’t spot a prime example of masculine excellence when I see it.” She gave a small snort as she went to the door. “You might want to consider that when you ask yourself why it took me so long to reach you at Clearview.”

  Emily whipped round to face her only to find the door closing behind her retreating figure.

  Patsy muttered something beneath her breath before saying, “You must sit still or I’ll have to start over.”

  Blinking, Emily surrendered herself to Patsy’s ministrations, but her mind remained elsewhere. Like on the sudden realization that Georgina had wanted her to end up with Griffin right from the start, and that she’d deliberately delayed going in pursuit so they’d have more time to form a closer attachment.

  It was a startling revelation, not to mention a plan that could have ended in disaster, had Griffin not been the considerate man she’d discovered him to be. Instinct told her to feel affronted by such deliberate meddling, but would that really be just? After all, she had been the one to run off with Griffin in the first place, and the situation had ended happily with them falling in love. They were about to embark on the most exciting journey of their lives together as husband and wife, so what was the point in asking, what if?