Undeniable Rogue (The Rogues Club Book One) (15 page)

Unfortunately, they looked less like they were playing and more like they were conspiring. “What are you two whispering about?” she asked.

Just their tight faces and tighter lips told her that she had reason to be suspicious.

“Out with it,” she demanded, hands on hips.

“With what, Mama?”

At what point had they conquered the art of apparent innocence? “Damon?”

“Mama, can I have a puppy?”

Sabrina allowed herself a great mental sigh. Her life was complicated enough, keeping two energetic little boys entertained and quiet, never mind throwing a yapping pup into the mix. “What brought that on?”

“The kennel man showed me the puppies.”

“I see.”

“He said they need homes.”

“I am sure he did.” Wonderful. For her boys’ sakes, she would inquire of Miss Minchip, later, which of the servants cared for the kennels and how the man dealt with children. Meanwhile...

Sabrina sat in the nursery rocker and took a hand of each to pull the boys closer. “Boys, listen, I am sorry, but we cannot have a puppy, not right now. I am not even certain you should go back to visit the kennels.”

“But Mama?” Identical twins, identical entreaties, quadruple the maternal guilt.

Sabrina sighed. “Tell you what. Perhaps we can hunt you up a cat. Cats are quiet. And perhaps we can come to a compromise on the kennels. If Miss Minchip approves of the kennel man, and if you promise to always tell me where you are going, I will let you visit the puppies again.”

That concession earned her two kisses and four hugs. Not bad for half an hour’s work. Before she left, Sabrina kissed both boys one more time and woke Miss Minchip to inquire about the kennel man and give her decision concerning puppy visits.

Once she knew the boys were settled, she went in search of her husband.

She found him sitting on the settee in the library, reading the London Times, but he looked up and rose when he saw her, folded the paper and tossed it on a table. “Good,” he said. “He checked his pocket watch. Dinner will be ready shortly. I was just about to go and fetch you. Come. Sit beside me.” When she reached him, he surprised her by kissing her cheek, rather than her hand.

She sat on the settee, he, beside her, and she wished she could tell him how nice she found the experience of anticipating her husband’s company, rather than dreading it.

“What?” he asked.

But she shook her head. “Woolgathering,” she improvised. “Sorry.”

“Still sleepy? Did you not have a good rest, then?”

“I did … until the baby started doing the Highland Fling.”

“Smart little tiger. Is he still flinging?”

Sabrina carried her husband’s hand to her belly. “See for yourself.”

Gideon winced as he felt and saw her child’s wild contortions. “Does that not hurt?”

“Not at all.”

“I think he is trying to break out.”

“Soon enough, he will. How do you think you will feel about having a little one in the house?”

“A babe could make life interesting.”

“No emotion stronger than interest comes to mind?”

“Such as?”

“Pleasure, panic, anger, elation, dread?”

“I assume the babe will not be leaving puddles on the carpets, or anything like … correct? The reason I ask is because a hunting dog lifted a leg against my boot this morning.”

Sabrina laughed. “In that case, I will be very careful that the baby does not do the same.”

“Then I am still open to the experience.”

“Open to the experience,” Sabrina said, considering. “I like that far better than plain old
interest
, because interest can result either positively or negatively, you know, and sometimes we do not even—”

Gideon kissed her, and when he had her silence, he crossed her lips with a finger. “I know you are not willing to share your past, yet, but I perceive in you an emotion akin to fear. So let me give you my promise that you have nothing to fear from me, and neither does your child.”

Before Sabrina could respond, she needed to swallow the emotion that welled up in her at his unsolicited vow. “Thank you, Gideon.”

“Gideon! She calls me Gideon. Finally. And not just to stop me in our bed.” We make progress, I think.”

“Yes,” Sabrina said, blushing. “I believe we do.”

“Good. Now I am going to pour myself a glass of sherry before dinner. Would you care for one?”

“No, thank you, but go ahead.” Sabrina could not help remember the two of them wrapped in each other’s arms, on this very settee, and how frightened she had been—”

“Woolgathering again,” he asked from beside her, and she jumped.

But she turned to face him. “I was remembering how frightened I was last night, especially when you came charging down the balcony stairs.”

“Are you saying you are less frightened of the marriage act now?”

“No. I am saying that I am less frightened of you, now.”

“I suppose that must suffice as a beginning.”

“I expected you to be terribly upset when I informed you of my feelings concerning the...intimate side of marriage, but you were not.”

Gideon barked a laugh. “I shall take that as a compliment to my equanimity. But for your information, I was very, terribly bothered, for about ten minutes, then I decided to handle the situation in the way I usually do. Did I not make my intentions clear to you at that time?”

“Uh, no, I do not believe you did.”

Her husband shrugged. “I considered the possibility that you told me how much you dislike marital intimacy as a way of throwing down the proverbial gauntlet, and I decided to take it up.”

Sabrina raised a brow in question.

“As in...accept your challenge?
Change
your mind?” Gideon set his drink on the table and decided to show his wife what he meant, by taking her into his arms. “I am going to make you ache for me, Sabrina St. Goddard. And when we do consummate this marriage of ours, you are going to enjoy the remarkable experience so much, you will beg me for more.”

Sabrina did not know whether to laugh or cry, but when she made to speak, Gideon opened his mouth over hers, and his sculpted lips worked their magic.

Her first kiss ever, a mutual and spontaneous burst, had taken place the night before on that very settee, in the heat of passion, but it was more of an inferno than this slow, sweet sizzle.

This kiss went on, and on, while temperatures escalated, and Sabrina happily sizzled.

Before she knew what Gideon was about, he was lying on his back, her draped over him like a rug—a lumpy rug—her knee soothing his erection, his face between her breasts.

Sabrina pulled away a bit, and they regarded each other, with more of the heat lighting sparking between them as had visited them the night before. “Hefty blanket you have here,” she said, when her breathing caught up with her heart.

“I feared crushing the baby, so I reversed our positions.”

Sabrina raised a brow. “You planned this? I do not even know how we got here.”

“Good,” he said. “That means I am going about this seduction business in just the right way.”

Chalmer cleared his throat.

Sabrina started and felt her face warm.

Gideon grinned.

“Dinner is served,” the manservant said, almost without expression, except for the smile Sabrina caught as he turned.

She was terribly uncomfortable by the time they retired that night.

Gideon seemed so in tuned with her discomfort that he helped her off with her shoes and stockings and left while she finished undressing and got into her nightrail. When he returned, he found her shifting in the bed, trying to find a position to suit her circumstance.

“What can I do to help you?”

“Not what you want to do.”

“I fear I agree,” he said, coming to stand by the bed. “Tell me what you would like and I will comply. I will even go and sleep in my own bed, if you think you would be more comfortable.”

Sabrina shook her head. “Honestly? I was more comfortable with you at my back last night than I have been for weeks.”

“You shall have me at your back then.”

“Can you rub it, just a bit?”

Gideon placed his hands at her back and gave himself over to the unexpectedly stirring experience. It was more sensual even than in the library the night before, given the fact that he was now in her bed with her, and he knew her body a vast deal better than he had then.

“Ah, yes, like that,” Sabrina said. “Down lower. Mmm. Oh, yes. Oh, God, that feels so good. Harder. A bit lower. Yes, just there.”

“Damn, you are getting me excited.”

His statement surprised Sabrina, and she could not seem to stop laughing.

Her mirth was so contagious; Gideon took to laughing with her, though he did not stopped soothing her sore back.

The thought occurred to him, as he absorbed the sound of her laughter, that he had never before enjoyed a woman—beyond sexual gratification—in or out of bed. He had never laughed with a woman, talked with her, as he and Sabrina had talked before dinner.

He liked the experience, the easy camaraderie, as if they were a world unto themselves, the two of them alone. Amazing how shared laughter could sweeten life, make it seem...worth living.

Sabrina calmed after a while, but every so often she would take to giggling again. One of those times, Gideon was so wholly charmed, he could not stop himself; he bent over and kissed her cheek. “Damned if I do not find myself liking you, Sabrina St. Goddard. Welcome to my life.”

For a minute, he thought she might cry, but she brightened, instead, almost as if she needed to correct her errant emotions and set them on the proper course. Odd that.

“Thank you,” she said finally. “Your life is not as bad a place as I expected.”

He did not know how the devil to reply to that. Should he be pleased or angry? In the end, he said nothing, and before long, he saw that she slept.

He continued to rub her back for as long as he could keep his eyes open, and the next thing he knew, the light of morning had cast a beam across the bed.

Gideon managed to rise without disturbing his wife and left her to sleep for as long as she was able.

Rather than sit down to breakfast alone, he grabbed the Morning Post and retired to his study. He had not read more than a minute when he shot from his chair in fury over an anonymous
on dit
that reeked of revenge:
The Duke of S. has married hastily, and of necessity, to a nesting canary...with nary a feather to fly with. This author suggests that S. beware upon whose perch his canary next hops.

Gideon vowed that when he got his hands around Veronica’s throat, he was going to squeeze.

First he wrote a scathing letter to the newspaper, demanding a retraction. Then he wrote a scathing letter to Veronica.

Feeling better after the exercise, he pondered a diversion of pint-size proportions.