The Dangerous Love of a Rogue. Jane Lark
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Mary.”
She smiled, knowing the darkness hid it. “You could choose a military career and work for your living.”
His thumb swept across her cheek. “I have not even enough to buy a commission. Besides would you wish to follow the drum?”
“The clergy then…”
“Me, a vicar? Are you mad? That would never work.” A scoffing rumble of amusement growled in his throat.
“I must be, I am here with you.”
His thumb and forefinger gripped her chin, then tilted it up. “Do I have your interest?”
“To be your wife?” Mary fought a desire to kiss the lips lingering over hers. “I barely know you. All I know is you are a rogue.”
This time his amusement erupted as a proper laugh which someone might hear. “Guilty as charged, I’ll not deny it, but now I’m looking for more than amusement. I did not do this with you for that. I wish to marry you. I am trying to persuade you.”
“For money….”
He shook his head. “Money, yes. I need it. I’ll not lie to you. But I want you, too, not only your fortune.” His lips brushed hers, weaving enchantment, fogging her mind.
She forced herself to cling to common-sense. “And if I had no fortune…”
He did not answer. He’d said he would not lie.
He would not choose her if she was penniless. But that was the way of life. There were three dozen men in her uncle’s ballroom without expectation of inheritance, or the desire to be shot at on a battlefield, or the inclination to preach… All of those men were in need of a fortune.
She pushed him away.
As he moved back, his hands slipped to her waist.
“I have to go. I will be missed.”
“When can I meet you again? Where? Do you ride in the morning, in Hyde Park? What if I were there at nine, would you come?”
Male voices drifted on the night air, rising in volume, they came from the terrace.
“I don’t know. I have to go.” She slipped from his hold, both physically and mentally, and hurried back across the grass to the courtyard entrance she’d come from, then returned to the ballroom via the servants’ entrance.
He was not in there. He’d gone.
Mary found her father, who commented on the length of time the maid had taken to fix her hair. It was only teasing.
She’d lied to him, deceived him and disobeyed. She had never done any of those things until the Jerseys’ garden party.
Insanity had claimed her.
What had she done?
Her heart raced, her blood running thick with the memory of their intimate caress.
“Miss Marlow, will you dance?”
She turned to face Lloyd Montague, another of her usual set.
She liked him, she liked them all, but they did not intrigue or enchant her. The only man who did that liked to make her dance with danger.
She accepted Lloyd’s arm and let him lead her into a waltz. But she longed to be outside with Lord Framlington again.
Would she go tomorrow? She could, if she took a groom.
But would it be wise?
Of course it would not. It would be anything but wise. But she wanted to go.
Where would this lead if she went? Not to marriage. Her family would never permit it. It could only lead to disgrace.
She would not.
Drew sat astride his horse, waiting by the gates of Hyde Park. Miss Marlow was thirty minutes late. She was making a fool of him.
Impatience bit hard. His hands on the pommel of his saddle he shifted his weight, and as he did so, he thought of her in his hands last night. Something gripped within his stomach, something which was not lust. She had melted him. Entirely. He had been ice and now he was water… She flowed in his veins, he’d never had an encounter with a woman which was so… beautiful… so real
God his heart had thundered as hard as hers at the end, and he’d wanted to yell out with jubilation. She would have thought him insane, and of course, it would have meant they may have been caught.
His friends would think him insane too if they knew how he felt.
He’d smiled for the rest of the night, like a damned green youth who’d just discovered the sport, and he’d still been smiling this morning.
She had been all that he’d hoped of in an innocent woman.
He, Drew Framlington, had been the first to show the beautiful Miss Marlow what true pleasure could be!
Yet she had not come this morning. He was not smiling anymore.
Damn it. Waiting on a woman was not Drew’s forte. He’d rather walk away than wait. But he craved her now, he could never choose another woman now. Not after her beautiful response last night… and he needed to marry someone, he needed a bloody fortune too. He refused to go back to his former life and give pleasure to his mother’s friends for money, yet if he did not come into money soon the dun’s would have him in jail.
Devil take it, she’d shattered in his arms last night…
He’d not thought she would allow him so near so soon, but she’d been willing him on, kissing him back with an un-virginal fire.
He wished this courtship over and Miss Marlow in his bed, just as much as he wished for her damned money.
But it seemed he’d lost his touch.
After the climax he’d given her last night, and it had undoubtedly been her first, she had been shocked by it, he would have thought she’d be here begging him to marry her.
He lifted his watch from the pocket of his morning coat. Five minutes more had passed.
She’d stood him up.
Bloody hell. He would never live it down after he’d bragged to his friends that they could begin their celebrations.
Women, damn them, they were all fickle.
He saw her.
Lord. Something bit into his chest. Relief. Desperation. Then came the flood of hope on a wave of a storm of sensations even deeper than he’d experienced before.
She rode along the street outside the park, a peacock feather bouncing above her head, to match her vivid blue habit. The colour a sharp contrast to her pale skin. She sat the horse extremely well, her spine rigid and her grip on the reins firm. She looked magnificent riding the glossy jet black stallion.
A groom rode beside her, keeping guard over the Marlows’ precious package.
Drew smiled and tugged on his reins, turning his mare away from the gate and setting it to walk across the lawn.
He could not let their meeting appear planned. It must look accidental. His heart raced as though he was galloping, not walking the horse.
A clear blue sky stretched from one horizon to the other.
Drew kicked his heals and stirred his horse into a canter, giving her time to enter the park and his heartbeat a chance to recover from the sight of her.
It was not busy but there were others about.
Once he’d ridden a few hundred yards he swung back, turning on to the outer path. She was a couple of hundred yards