The Rogue Prince (19 page)

Oh Christ. He could see her now, hardly more than a child in an ill-fitting gown, moving awkwardly toward the boys on a crutch when she tripped.
Maggie.

“You touched her.” Ochoa said it without any inflection, but as a statement of fact. “They couldn't allow that.”

Tom stood and jabbed his fingers through his hair. He remembered her clearly now, her glorious hair falling out of its braids, her face slightly sunburned, her freckles dancing across her nose and cheeks. He'd thought she was sweet even then, and how exceedingly unfair it was that she was lame.

She had said little about her accident, and Tom hadn't realized how bad it must have been. He'd noticed the scar on her thigh, and he understood how amazing it was that she was able to walk as well as she did.

If Ochoa was right, then it was Tom's quick
reflexive action that had caused her brother and his friend to decide to take him down a notch. Considering the way her siblings treated her, Tom wondered if Shefford would have preferred to see her fall into the mud rather than allow a bumpkin from a horse farm to touch her.

“Well,” said Ochoa, “it's no matter now. You'll do what needs to be done.”

“Aye,” Tom said, reeling from his sudden insight. Maggie had triggered everything. Norfolk Island, Port Jackson, the pirate slave ship. He swore under his breath.

“Maynwaring invited me to lunch with him today,” said Ochoa. “We meet at one.”

Somehow, Tom managed to reply. “Keep me apprised.”

 

Mr. Brown laughed out loud when he saw the caricature of Lord Castlereagh. Maggie had put him at a desk with the Sabedorian prince, alongside a pair of dueling pistols and a bolt of flax.

“How clever,” Mr. Brown had said, laughing, “to play on Castlereagh's propensity for dueling with important dignitaries. This will tickle our subscribers and—if I'm not mistaken—make you a very rich woman!”

Maggie sat back in her chair, more than pleased.

“Your first picture caused quite a stir,” he said.

“That's very good for me, then.”

The editor picked up Maggie's drawing and chuckled again. “The public has an insatiable cu
riosity about that Sabedorian,” he said. “And this caricature with Castlereagh—ha!—absolutely priceless!”

“I hope it's not too—”

“Hel—Heavens, no! This is better than anything I'd hoped for, Lady Blackmore. Your drawings have an edge that go beyond mere satire. The public enjoys a good farce, and you are racking up
Gazette
sales with yours.”

“Well, thank you, I think.” She hadn't intended to make Thomas a farcical character, and now she wondered what he thought of the Redbush drawings. If he even saw them.

“Yes, yes, it's a compliment. Definitely. I understand they've had to go back and reprint that first caricature because sales were so brisk.”

“Really?”

“This one will sell like hot muffins from a hawker's barrow on a cold day. Now that we know how popular these pictures are…well, we'll have a much larger number made up as prints for sale.”

Perhaps Thomas did not look at the London papers. There was a good chance he did not know of the caricatures. Maggie felt slightly queasy at the thought of his reaction to her drawings.

“You've earned quite a tidy sum already, my lady,” Mr. Brown said. He removed a folded, wrapped sheet of vellum from his desk, and when he handed it to Maggie, she realized it was her first payment for her work. “Keep the Sabedorian as your primary subject, and your…
ahem…financial difficulties will be a thing of the past.”

Maggie put the all-important payment into her empty portfolio and stood, giving Mr. Brown a curt nod. She hoped she hadn't made Thomas an object of ridicule, for that had not been her intention. And she hoped that by placing Lord Castlereagh in the picture with him, she had not soured Castlereagh's, or any other important minister's willingness to deal with Thomas. She had not meant to thwart his mission in England.

“Can we expect another caricature from you next week, Lady Blackmore?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Because there wasn't any other way to escape her debt, and the heft of the packet in her reticule was a sure enticement to do more.

She returned home and went into Julian's small study. Not that her husband had ever studied anything there, but a writing desk was there, and some paper and ink. She quickly penned a letter to Mr. Clements, asking him for a list of Julian's debts. And as long as she was writing, she asked what the procedure would be for naming a new trustee for Zachary's estate. Clearly, Shefford was not suited to the task.

She had just put her seal on the letter to the solicitor when Mathers came in with a note from her mother. Maggie's stomach clenched as she unsealed Beatrice's note and read the scathing message within.

“Is everything all right, my lady?” Mathers asked.

Maggie swallowed. “Yes, Mathers. Thank you.”

“Is there any reply, ma'am?”

“No, that will be all. Thank you.”

No doubt Charlotte had given their mother some perverse version of the encounter in the park, leaving out Charlotte's rude treatment of her youngest sister. But Maggie had no interest in correcting her sister's version of events, in spite of the repercussions she was sure to face from her family.

She was determined not to become embroiled in some petty family altercation and allow them to spoil her expectations of the afternoon she was going to spend with Thomas. Maggie had never felt such a breathless anticipation for anything before, and she suffered a tiny twinge of guilt that she had never been so anxious to see Julian.

Her attraction to Thomas had proved to be irresistible, and his reciprocation was beyond anything Maggie had ever experienced. His kiss was compelling, a simple touch of his hand made her yearn for more. It was amazing that she had not dissolved the first time he'd taken her in his arms.
Or perhaps she had
, she thought, her skin tingling at the memory of the intense interlude they'd shared in the carriage.

She felt a sudden chill and rubbed her arms, aware that any respectable woman would be appalled by her behavior.
She had taken a lover,
and did not think it was entirely due to her shock at Victoria's and Mr. Clement's revelations about Julian's affairs and what he'd done to their finances.

She stood abruptly, and went upstairs to her bedchamber. Standing in the doorway as she looked in, she could hardly believe all that had transpired the night before. She stepped into the room and skimmed one hand over the coverlet of the bed, aware that she would never lie in that bed again without remembering the hours she'd spent there with Thomas. She could not press her face to the pillows without recalling his scent, the rough texture of his hands, or the crisp rasp of his hair against her breasts.

She closed her eyes and shivered again, even though there was a fire in the grate and the room was comfortably warm.

The candle she'd put in her window was still there, and Maggie quickly removed it. Anyone might have noticed it, might have drawn some unsavory—but true—conclusions about its purpose.

Nurse Hawkins tapped at the open door, and Maggie dropped the candle on her dressing table.

“The children are in the nursery, having lunch,” the nurse said. “And I decided to take this opportunity…Even though I understand I may be speaking out of turn—”

“What is it, Hawkins?” Maggie interjected.

“Well.” She was at least ten years older than Maggie, and had been a solid, reassuring presence at Blackmore Manor ever since Zachary's birth. She'd always known what to do when someone was hurt or ill, and was completely dedicated to Maggie's children. Hawkins smoothed her skirts.
“I think you should know that Zachary is a perfectly normal little boy. And Lily might be a bit shy, but she will outgrow it.”

“I had hoped so,” Maggie said.

“Lady Aughton's attitude this afternoon…” Hawkins wrung her hands and her face colored with emotion. “My lady, I swear, it was all I could do to keep from slapping her right in her righteous—! Oh, I beg your pardon, ma'am.”

Maggie laughed, for she could do so now. There would be no mirth later, when her mother confronted her, as she was sure Beatrice would do. “Why, Hawkins, I do believe you are showing somewhat more temper than usual.”

“I am sorry I must admit to such base and violent feelings, my lady. But there is a reason that prince of yours turned his back on your sister and stayed with you and the children.”

“Oh?”
That prince of hers?
Good lord, did everyone know?

“It's obvious he understands true character. And I'm glad he does. You deserve…well, pardon my saying, but you deserve a decent man who cares for you.”

Maggie bit her lip. “Nurse Hawkins…”

The woman took a step back, holding up one hand. “I do apologize for putting my nose where it clearly does not belong. But my lady, it's very pleasing to see you smile again.”

Hawkins left the room and Maggie sat down in the chair where Thomas had made love to her. The nurse was mistaken if she thought he cared for
her. Maggie was his paramour, and their arrangement was nothing more than a temporary liaison that would last only as long as Thomas remained in London.

Or it burned itself out.

Maggie knew her reputation would suffer badly if anyone learned either of her secrets. But she wanted to touch Thomas, wanted to feel his hands and lips on her body, and return the shuddering pleasure he'd given her. She longed for him to hold her in his arms, to feel the heat and security of his embrace.

And it was surprising how much she enjoyed the potency of earning her own funds. Of using her small talent to get her family out of debt. It was almost as exhilarating as the feelings that came over her when Thomas held her.

Maggie realized she had to think of the consequences of her actions. There could be repercussions for Lily and Zachary. If anyone learned what she was doing—on either front—it would be her children who suffered. She knew better than to count on her family to rally around her. If her activities were somehow exposed, she would have to retreat to Cambridgeshire and try to live down her shame.

She closed her eyes and wished she knew what to do. She was afraid she'd already fallen partway in love with Thomas. No one had ever stood with her against her sisters, and she feared she was hopeless when he'd taken over with her children, even winning over her shy little daughter.

Maggie was so new to all this, to the shivery sensations in all the hidden parts of her body that made it impossible to think. She glanced toward the mirror and saw the same awkward girl she'd been at the time of her marriage to Julian. And yet so very much had changed. She'd lived a great deal of her life in the previous eight years, bearing two children and learning a lady's duties to her husband's tenants. And yet she felt she'd lived more in the past few days than during her entire marriage to Julian.

It wasn't just Thomas. Maggie wished she'd become wiser over the years, but she knew she'd been a naïve fool. Since her return to London, she'd had to grow up quickly and had to set aside a number of her prior beliefs. Her husband had betrayed her in every possible way.

Her family did not even signify.

And now she was embarking upon a sensuous adventure that could have serious consequences for herself and her children. She knew that a prudent woman would send a message to Thomas at Delamere House and decline their rendezvous.

But it wasn't until his carriage arrived that she made her decision.

T
om was glad to see that his champion horse was limber and moving well, in spite of their weeks at sea. But he had stayed longer than he intended in the paddock with Arrendo and the horse trainer. He realized it was nearly time for Maggie to arrive, and he had not yet washed off the smell of the stable. He summoned one of his men to have a bath prepared for him at the huntsman's cottage and left the paddock soon thereafter.

He was just coming off the path in the woods toward the cottage when he saw Maggie stepping out of his carriage with a hand from Oliver Garay. The driver walked to the door of the cottage with her, pushed open the door, tipped his hat to her, then left her there. Garay drove away, and Maggie remained standing under the lintel, looking uncertain.

She hadn't seen the cottage before, and probably wondered where Garay had brought her and why Thomas hadn't come to escort her himself. He started walking toward her, thinking his timing
ought to have been better. He should have been inside, waiting for her.

Even better, he'd have preferred to go down to London for her himself. And yet his earlier discussion with Nate had made him realize he needed to establish some boundaries. Lady Blackmore had far too easily become a fever in his blood. She was an obsession he could not afford. He needed to put some distance between them.

Enjoy her, but set her aside when it was time.

She turned as he approached and he felt the power of her gaze at the base of his breastbone. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, and Tom picked up his gait. His coat billowed out behind him as he hurried toward her, and she stepped away from the door.

In spite of Nate's reminders, Tom caught Maggie up in his arms, and she did not seem to mind that he smelled of leather and horse and earth. She took his kiss greedily, as though she'd been waiting for it since the moment they'd parted in the park, and Tom trembled with the need to be inside her.

Her shy eagerness was an aphrodisiac that cut directly to his straining cock.

Tom pulled away and took her hand, leading her into the cottage. There was not much light inside, but he made his way unerringly to the staircase, keeping Maggie in tow. Dropping his coat on the floor, he started up the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it over his head as they climbed. He picked her up and carried her to the top of the steps, smiling at the sound of her delighted squeal.

The door of the master bedchamber was ajar, and through it, Tom saw a flickering light. He carried Maggie inside, and eased her down to her feet near the fireplace, beside the tub of steaming water. Pressing a line of kisses to her jaw and neck, he slipped her coat from her shoulders, then cupped her face in his hands and took her mouth with his. He sucked her tongue inside, tasting her, breathing in her roses, pressing his erection against the softness of her body.

He broke away long enough to start on the buttons of her bodice. “I apologize for not coming for you myself,” he said, nibbling the sweet spot just below her ear.

She slid her hands up his bare chest and Tom shivered at the exquisite sensation of her touch.

“You are so hard,” she said, and then blushed at his quick grin.

“Aye. For you.” He took one of her hands and placed it on the hard length that had been aching with need since the moment he'd left her.

He sat down on the bed and pulled her between his legs. A haze of arousal softened her eyes, and he watched her while he lowered her bodice and dispensed with her gown. Then he turned her around and started to work on her laces. He pressed a kiss to the delicate indentation of her spine, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath to keep from rushing this. They had all afternoon and at least part of the evening to spend together. Tom intended to enjoy every hour.

“Tell me what to do,” she said, turning to face him.

Tom pulled the corset over her head and absently tossed it to the floor, his attention entirely focused on her. On sweet Maggie in a thin chemise that barely concealed her pretty breasts and the shadow between her legs. Her arms were dappled with freckles and Tom skimmed one finger from her wrist to her shoulder. With his light touch, her nipples pebbled through the cloth of the thin linen, and the air suddenly felt too thick for him to breathe.

“Just touch me,” he said. At least, he thought he might have said it aloud, but it was entirely possible that his voice had not functioned.

Maggie scraped her hands down his chest and stopped at his nipples, then slid down to her knees so that her mouth was level with his chest. She circled one hard nipple with her tongue while teasing the other with her fingers.

Then she moved lower.

She looked up at him uncertainly, then bit her lower lip and reached for the placket of his trews. Tom's breath caught when she unfastened it and freed his cock into her cool hands.

“Aye, lass.” It was all he could do to keep from exploding right then, yet he should be able to withstand far more of her sensual touch.

“Maggie, wait.” His voice scraped across his throat.

He stood, moving past Maggie, pulled off his boots and shoved off his trews. He stepped into the water that was still hot. Turning to face Maggie, he saw that her gaze had caught on his fierce erection.

“I smell of horses,” he said taking the soap and spreading it across his chest, under his arms, and down to his erection.

He sat down in the water and Maggie came to him then. She reached into the tub and took over for him, sluicing water over his chest and running her slick hands over his skin, washing him.

His cock surged rigidly when she encircled it, and his heart seemed to stop in his chest when she slid her other hand underneath, gently stroking him.

Tom could not take much more. He rinsed off quickly, then came out of the tub, splashing water down the sides as he took Maggie into his arms. He felt hot all over, in spite of the dampness of his body. He speared his tongue into her mouth and she tilted her head as he deepened their kiss.

He slipped her chemise from her shoulders and when the damp garment fell to the floor, she stepped out of it. Tom lifted her into his arms and took her to the bed. Putting one knee on the mattress, he laid her on the blankets, but she pushed herself onto her knees and reached for him.

Her breasts swayed with her movement, and Tom could not resist cupping them in his hands. He bent to lick one of her nipples, and Maggie put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him onto his back on the bed. “Your turn.”

She straddled him, resuming her attentions where she left off before his bath, stroking him gently, then bending to place a light kiss on the tip of his cock. Tom bucked in her hand when she swirled
her tongue around the head and sucked him fully into her mouth. He grabbed fistfuls of the blanket beneath him as she became even bolder, licking and sucking, sliding him in and out of her mouth.

He'd never known anything as erotic as the sight of Maggie's full lips gliding over his cock, pleasuring him to the limit of his control. She pushed him to the very brink, but he had no wish to stop her.

She moaned and cupped her own breasts, and Tom almost came, watching her pleasure herself. That she was aroused by what she was doing to him was beyond anything in his experience.

He shifted suddenly, unable to take any more, and drew her upright to lower her onto his erection. Her legs bracketed his hips and her eyes met his as she moved above him, driving him toward the most volatile climax he'd ever known. His muscles quaked, and when she went still, tightening around him in spasms of pleasure, Tom exploded inside her.

He'd forgotten to withdraw from her at the last instant, but couldn't find the energy to care.

 

Maggie lay against Thomas, her head tucked under his chin, her breasts against his chest and one of his thighs resting between her legs. She wanted to know everything about him, and yet…It was not really her place to know.

Maggie felt his breath ruffling her hair, his big hand caressing her back, and wondered if her contentment in Thomas's arms was naïve or out of
place. She admitted to being far too unsophisticated to understand men and their motivations.

Yet there'd been no question that Thomas had wanted her, and it seemed that he felt just as satisfied as she.

“You have barely any accent,” she said in an attempt to keep it light, keep it simple. She was the man's mistress, and nothing more.

“Hmm…”

“What is your country like? Mr. Kimbridge said it's on the bottom of the world. What did he mean?”

His hand resumed its lazy circles across her back. “You've seen a globe—a spherical map of the world?”

Maggie nodded. Her stepfather had had one in his study. She'd been surprised to see how tiny England was, compared to all the other countries.

“If you think of the globe in halves,” he said, “split horizontally through the center, Sabedoria lies in the lower half.”

“It's a very long way from England, then.” A mistress would not feel the same painful twinge in the region of her heart at the thought of the many miles that would soon be between them.

He said nothing for a moment. “It will take several months' travel to return to Sabedoria,” he finally replied. He rolled her onto her back and settled himself over her, keeping one of her legs between his. He bent toward her and nuzzled her lips. “You'll be pleased to know your questions are
along the same lines as those of your esteemed foreign minister, Lord Castlereagh.”

“Perhaps I should be a government minister,” she said in an attempt at a jest. The last thing she wanted to think about was Thomas returning to his country.

“Aye,” he growled as he moved down her body. “You would dazzle your adversaries with your pretty smile.”

He took one of her nipples into his mouth and rolled his tongue around it while he slid his hand down to the crease of her thigh.

Maggie arched her back. “M-my smile?” she squeaked.

He teased her other nipple with his forefinger and thumb, and then started to move downward. He made a hot trail to her navel with his lips, and Maggie took his head in her hands as he moved farther south. She opened for him, whimpering as he played with her, using his tongue.

The earth shifted beneath her as Thomas sucked and licked, then added the touch of his hand to his ministrations. Maggie felt her muscles flex and her womb tighten, and Thomas suddenly raised himself up. Gathering her into his arms, he thrust inside her. He held her close as he moved, his rhythm intense and fast. Maggie's climax came upon her immediately, and every subsequent move that Thomas made took her to greater heights.

He took her mouth in a wild, savage kiss that possessed her while taking a piece of him. She sucked his tongue hard and tightened her legs
around his waist, and he suddenly erupted with a harsh groan, his muscles contracting in a tremulous rush of completion.

Maggie felt boneless as she eased her legs down, but Thomas pulled her onto her side and they lay facing each other, their hearts and breaths slowing. She gazed into his eyes as though she could see into his soul, and realized this was no way for a mistress to behave. He was going to be gone before long…

Or perhaps one day he would decide to take another mistress.

Maggie closed her eyes and pressed her face to his chest against the sudden pang of distress that filled her. Her breath caught as she fought to compose herself, quelling the foolish emotions that had no place in an affair.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Oh, I…” She had to lighten the moment. Even more, she needed to return to reality. “I'm surprised you don't have a social function to attend tonight.”

“I do,” he said, sliding out of her, but holding her close. “There is a ball somewhere or other. Later.”

It had already grown quite late, dusk at least. Their only light came from the flickering of the dying fire. Maggie watched the solid thrum of Thomas's pulse in his throat and tried not to feel superfluous. She'd hardly been able to think of anything but their tryst all day, yet Thomas had been so busy he'd had to fit her in between whatever
activity had kept him from coming to Town for her…and a ball somewhere or other.

What would a mistress do? Surely not lie about, missing her lover before he'd even gone.

“I should go.”

His pressed his hand against her back to hold her close. “It's still early.”

“It's gotten dark, Thomas.” Maggie extricated herself from his embrace and slid to the edge of the bed. She needed to put some space between them, and if it required running from him, so be it. “You probably need to get ready.”

“Not yet.”

She took a deep shaky breath, turned, and gave him a smile she did not feel. “Yes,
yet
. And I should get back to my children.”

He came up behind her and started to feather kisses down her shoulder. Maggie closed her eyes and fought the urge to slip back into the bed. She could do this. She could muster the control necessary to leave now, while her heart was still intact.

“You are so anxious to leave?”

She shook her head. “Of course not, but you have things to do. Important things, I'm sure.”

“What if I asked you to stay?”

She forced a quiet laugh and tried not to think about the months it was going to take him to get back to Sabedoria. And the life that awaited him there. “But you won't. You are needed elsewhere.”

She slid down to her feet and reached for her chemise, discarded on the floor near the tub. Thomas came right after her, taking the simple garment
from her hand. They stood still for a moment, and Maggie resisted the urge to cover herself with her hands. It was far too late for modesty, and his expression kept her from moving.

She couldn't allow him to mean more to her than an afternoon's diversion, an hour or two of pleasure. Exquisite though it may be. It was hardly prudent to have become as deeply involved as she was, but Maggie could barely think when he skimmed one finger down the side of her face, sending ripples of pure desire straight to her womb.