Page 24 of The Rogue

The small voice whispered in her ear, pleading for decency, demanding what she was about, as she imagined she must look like any common whore if someone were to walk in on them now. But then his hands gripped her waist and pulled her down and she gasped as the evidence of his desire was plainly illustrated.

Her skirts had ridden up so there was nothing but the fabric of his trousers between them. She was momentarily pleased that she hadn’t given in to the sales lady on a recent shopping trip, who had been trying to sell her the latest fashion in the shape of a shocking pair of bloomers. But then he tilted his hips and rubbed against her, just so, and her breath caught in her throat.

The room was still freezing, she knew it must be, but she didn’t feel it. Henri felt nothing but the heat of him, the burn of his flesh under the fabric of his clothes that she wanted to snatch at and tear from his body. She was vaguely aware that she was in the grip of some kind of madness but so far gone that she was beyond caring.

He sought her mouth again and she gave it to him, her breathing coming fast now, and punctuated with sighs and moans and small breathless noises that seemed to inflame him more as his hands slid up her sides to cup her breasts. His fingers caressed her nipples, torturing the tight little nubs of flesh through the cloth of her gown.

Seemingly frustrated by the inconvenience of her dress, he wrenched at the buttons and tugged at the fabric, yanking it apart to expose her breasts, and she gasped as the cold air peaked the tight skin further. And yet that was nothing to the sensation of his hot, wet mouth closing over the tender flesh and suckling her until she cried out.

Her head tipped back, eyes closed as something inside her seemed to contract and the ache intensified. She buried her hands in his hair, pulling his head closer as the sensitive skin between her legs began to throb. She arched and pressed against him harder, seeking relief from the sensation that was driving her to madness. For if this wasn’t madness, her all-consuming need for this man, then she did not know what was.

He stopped suddenly, his head resting against her breast, his breathing harsh and she tilted his head, intending to kiss him again when the look in his eyes stopped her.

“Oh, God, Henri,” he whispered. “What have you done?”

“What?” she demanded, bewildered, wondering what on earth he meant.

He clung to her, his embrace so fierce she could barely breathe, and then with a ferocious curse he got to his feet, depositing her none too gently in the chair he had just vacated, and crossing the room. Apparently he wanted to put as much distance between them as he could.

“What did I do?” she asked, as colour flooded her cheeks.

She was mortified, humiliated. With fingers that trembled she rearranged her clothing until she was more modestly attired. She felt like a fool and a slut. What could she have done to kill his desire for her so very thoroughly? And yet when he looked on her she could still see that desire in his eyes as though it was a living thing that prowled the room, devouring the distance separating them with hungry bites.

“Nothing ... everything!” he exclaimed, running a shaky hand through his hair.

“You d-don’t want me?” she asked, not daring to believe the evidence of her own eyes when he stood so very far away from her.

He laughed, a desperate bark of laughter that sounded like he was at his wit’s end. Perhaps he was? Was that her fault?

“Of course I want you, you little fool,” he ground out, though his words were so angry she wasn’t sure she was reassured. “I want you,” he repeated. “But I want you enough not to ruin you.”

“What?” She stared at him as though he truly had run mad. “What on earth do you mean? I was ruined the moment the militia appeared outside of that tavern, and you well know it!”

He shook his head and met her eyes.

“No. You have a chance now, Henri, and I cannot ... I will not take it from you. I’ll not condemn you to a life where you’ll have to fight for survival, never mind happiness. I may be beyond help, but you ... For heaven’s sake, let me for once in my life do the right thing.”

She stared at him, not understanding how he believed she could be saved now, and even more perplexed by the idea that she wasn’t sure she wanted him to save her at all.

He walked closer to her and crouched down beside her chair, so that their eyes were level.

“Henri,” he said, his voice soft. “The commander on that ship, he’s a good and honourable man.”

He reached out and took her hand, covering it with his own and the ache in her body seemed to bloom outwards all over again, and yet this time her heart was the source of it.

“He will help you, Henri, I know he will.