The Dangerous Love of a Rogue. Jane Lark
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nearer he slowed from a canter to a trot and lifted his hand as though he’d just noticed her. “Miss Marlow! Well met!”
With his raised hand he lifted his hat and bowed his head in greeting, ignoring the groom who gave him a hard glare.
“Lord Framlington!” Her voice rang with a bright false pitch as she turned her horse towards him.
She was worried. A surge of something he was not used to feeling for anyone other than his younger sister, Caro, surged through his blood – a need to reassure and protect her
He slowed to a walk as she did, then stopped, his horse facing hers.
“You are out riding early, Miss Marlow?”
“I thought to come out while it’s cooler.”
“May I ride a little way beside you?”
“If you must.”
Drew smiled, as she turned her horse. He turned his, walking the animal close beside hers.
She looked over her shoulder and signalled for the groom to stay back.
The man’s glare bored into Drew’s back.
“You are late.”
“Well, that is a woman’s right.”
“Is it?” He glanced sideward.
Her habit hugged the curve beneath her breasts, the arch of her lower back and her slender delicate arms. He was falling into the enchantment of her innocence, fast and hard. His hunger was intense. He no longer even cared that she’d kept him waiting. She had an aura which pulled him close, winding around him like a charm. She gave him life, he felt different in her company.
It was probably just her beauty affecting him…All men must be dazzled by her. She was exceptional.
“Let us race?” she said, flicking her whip and setting her animal off, not waiting for agreement.
He kicked his heels, following her into a gallop as her horse tossed divots of grass at him.
The sharp rhythm of horse’s hooves pounded on the earth, and her laughter played on the air between them.
He gained ground and pulled ahead. She did not concede but tore on towards the lake, laughing still.
When they neared the lake, he pulled up, a full half leg in front. She stopped too and her horse turned a full circle.
“What was that?” he called to her.
“Fun!” she breathed, laughter dancing in her pale eyes as he rode closer. “I was not going to come you know.”
Her groom had been left a quarter mile back, but he could see them.
“So that was why you were late then, a change of heart?”
“Not exactly. I always behave. I always do as I should. Perhaps I just wished to kick up my heels.”
“Then this is not to be taken as any indication you agree to my offer.”
“Definitely not.” She shook her head. “If my family knew I was here with you, they would—”
“Slaughter me. I know.”
“Then, you cannot, for one moment, imagine they would agree to a match. They would think I had run mad.”
“You would be mad not to.” He held her light blue gaze. “I gave you a glimpse last night of how good it could be.”
She smiled, her eyes catching the sunshine. “In your bed you mean. That says nothing of how we would get along. Marriage is more than that, my Lord. Much more. And my family would never agree. They neither like nor trust you.”
“No… Then why did you come?” Drew did not intend to seek consent. He knew he would never be approved, the only one he sought to convince was her.
She stopped her horse from prancing and her gaze locked with his.
Those eyes. Who was seducing who?
His gaze fell to her lips.
“I have no idea. I think I am insane.” Her words kicked him firmly in the chest, and a soft ache hovered in his middle, as his gaze lifted back to her eyes.
The girl was a breath of fresh air, a light summer breeze. Sunshine.
“Could you not sleep, Miss Marlow, for thinking of me?” He laughed, feeling hope swelling inside him.
She blushed slightly. She had spent the night awake then. He hoped he’d hovered in her dreams as she had in his.
“So where do we go from here?” He encouraged her to take another step towards commitment.
“Where…?” A frown marred her beautiful brow. She had genuinely not thought about his offer then, merely their embrace.
“What next?” Drew clarified.
She shrugged, a dainty little gesture on her slim shoulders. “It should be nothing.”
“But it will not be nothing, because you want more, don’t you?” She needed more persuasion. Drew leaned forward and gripped her hand as it held her reins, holding both her and the animal steady. “Where will you be tonight?”
Her gaze clung to his. Maybe her common-sense told her there should be nothing more but other parts of her, that he had sway over, bid her answer. “I am attending Lady Frobisher’s musical evening.”
Musical evenings were a rogue’s curse, he could do nothing untoward when seated in a row of chairs. The game was off then, for tonight.
Nor could he meet her again in the park, once could be deemed accidental, but twice would draw attention. Without doubt the groom would mention this encounter to someone in the house.
“Miss Marlow!” A timely call came from their rear.
Drew glanced back. Her groom had come to retrieve his damsel from the beast.
Drew let her hand go and straightened. “Tomorrow then, where?”
“I shall be at the Phillips’ supper party.” Her gaze passed over Drew’s shoulder to the groom.
“There then. They have a large glass house in the grounds, to the right of the house. I’ll meet you there at midnight.” Drew’s eldest brother had been at school with the Phillips’ son, he could obtain an invitation.
Mary nodded. She had begun an intrigue. She had definitely become foolish.
“I shall look forward to it, immensely. Until tomorrow then, Miss Marlow.” His fingers reached for hers. Instinctively she released the reins, letting him take her hand. He lifted it to his lips, turned her hand, his thumb pressing into her palm, and kissed her wrist, above her glove.
Her heart skittered, its rhythm racing violently.
When he let go a smile lifted his lips and glinted in his eyes but the gleam turned wicked as his gaze shifted to her groom before he turned his horse and rode away.
Mary ached for him. She’d wanted this for a year… to give in to longing. But she should not have agreed to an assignation; it could mean nothing more than kisses.
“Forgive me, Miss,” Evans spoke when he drew near, “you should not speak with gentlemen.”
“I shall speak with whom I wish, Evans.” She sounded like John, and she was not normally harsh with servants.
“Miss Marlow.” The man lifted his fingers to his cap and tipped it forward, “Forgive me, but it is my duty to inform your father.”
“That I met a casual acquaintance in the park by chance and spoke with him? There is hardly anything to tell, Evans.” She ought to feel guilty. She did not, not yet, perhaps later.
It was as though she no longer knew