Her Wicked Proposal: The League of Rogues, Book 3 (12 page)

“Emily!” Anne pulled her hand free of Cedric’s mouth as Emily and Godric came in.

“I hope we are not intruding,” Godric apologized as he registered the disapproving scowl on Cedric’s face.

“Not at all, Your Grace,” Anne assured Godric.

“You bloody well are,” Cedric grumbled, though only Anne heard him.

“Splendid! Have you both enjoyed the show?” Emily asked, alight with her natural mischief.

“Yes. Lord Sheridan and I were just talking about the story,” Anne said.

“And about to make our own,” Cedric said, again too soft for the others to hear.

Her smile widened as she reflected on the moment she and Cedric had shared before they’d been interrupted. She’d felt like Matilde, if only for a few seconds.

“Now, Anne, wasn’t there someone you saw earlier that you said I should like to meet?” Emily’s tone dropped as she spoke.

Anne leapt up. Of course! The reason that she’d come to the opera tonight was to introduce Anne to Lady Rosalind Melbourne.

“I’d quite forgotten,” Anne replied and turned to Cedric. “Emily and I shall only be a moment. We must go and speak with someone.”

“Do you wish for me to accompany you?”

Anne felt her chest clench at the hope in his voice. If it wasn’t for Emily’s need to scheme and spy, Anne would have insisted Cedric come along.

“Stay and keep Godric company,” Emily jumped in. “I promise to return your lady to you before you know it, Cedric.” While Cedric still looked disappointed, he seemed less hurt. Emily had that effect on people.

“I will be back soon,” Anne promised before she let Emily steer her out into the hallway behind the boxes. As they descended the stairs, there was no evidence of the struggle between Cedric and Crispin to be seen. Anne wondered vaguely where Crispin had gone. Hopefully far, far away.

Anne and Emily did not meander down the hall twittering about the latest gossip as women were wont to do at the opera. Rather, Emily strode through the throngs of people with an expectant gleam in her eyes. A tracker on the prowl.

“Let me know the moment you spot Lady Melbourne,” Emily commanded.

Anne looked from one end of the theater to the other and spotted their quarry. But Lady Melbourne wasn’t alone.

Oh dear…

“Well, I have found her. But I do believe she would rather not be disturbed.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Emily scanned the crowd and then realized what she had meant. She covered her mouth with her hands. “Is that her? The woman whom Ashton is escorting into that dark alcove?”

“Yes.” Anne didn’t know whether she ought to leave the lady and lord alone, or whether to run to Lady Melbourne’s rescue. Lord Lennox had a particularly punishing expression on his face. Anne was not sure she could properly assess his intentions. Could a man be both angered and intrigued by a woman at the same time?

“Oh dear, I suppose I shan’t have the fortune of meeting her this evening. I must confess, I’ve never seen Ashton look so…” Emily failed to supply a word and waved a hand in the air.

“Confused?” Anne offered.

“Befuddled. And furious. Do you think she needs us to interfere?”

Anne watched the couple as they disappeared from sight. “You don’t think he might physically harm her, do you?”

Emily giggled. “Ashton? Lord no, he would never… At least, not physically,” she amended thoughtfully. “Her business might be in danger though. We ought to warn her of that, but not tonight.”

“One can’t help but wonder what is going on between them,” Anne mused long after she could no longer see any evidence of Lady Melbourne or Lord Lennox in the theater.

What could the mysterious baron be up to?

* * * * *

Ashton’s patience was on a razor’s edge. With one hand on Lady Rosalind Melbourne’s arm, he’d seized the opportunity to tow her into the seclusion of a nearby alcove. He feared what he might do now that he had her here.

Every muscle was tense, every sense heightened with excitement and, to be honest, arousal. It made no sense. He was furious with the lady. Anger and arousal had never gone hand in hand with him before, so why did he want to push this particular woman up against a wall and ravish her until she couldn’t remember her name?

“I must speak with you, madam,” he said, his tone dark and full of warning.

Rosalind struggled against his grip, and to his surprise Ashton found her difficult to hold down. With a rebellious toss of her head, her raven-hued locks flew loose over one shoulder. That didn’t help with the problem of his rising desire. This Scottish hellion needed a good bedding to tame that wildness. He wanted it to be his bed she fell into.

Damnation!
Gain control, Lennox. This is business. Now is not the time to let passion rule you.

“We have nothing to say to each other. Now release me.” Rosalind refused to look at him. She kept her pointed chin aimed away from him. Her resistance was charming.

Charming? What the bloody hell was he thinking? He never liked it when people refused to do as he asked. He did not take no as an acceptable response. In the world of shipping he was as relentless as he was calculating and precise, something his competitors respected, even if they loathed him for it.

“Oh my dear, on that count you are mistaken. We have
much
to discuss.” Ashton’s free hand caught her chin and forced her to face him. She blinked in surprise, her eyes luminous in the shadows.

“You’ve been a naughty girl.”

The rich timbre of his voice caused her to pale. Frightened a little, perhaps? Good. Why did the idea of catching her like this, of holding her captive, heat his blood? Was this how Godric had felt when dominating his darling Emily? Was that why his friend half lost his mind wherever Emily was concerned?

I cannot be feeling that. Certainly not for this woman
.

The thought, chilling as it was, couldn’t penetrate his predatory urge to settle the matter between them.

“I don’t know what you mean.” The hesitancy in her tone told him everything he needed to know.

“Is there any particular reason that you’ve been stealing my merchant shipping contracts? Or will you merely claim it is just business?”

Rosalind tried to pull her face away, but Ashton backed her into the corner of the alcove. He knew his encroaching stance was predatory, like an animal ready to attack. Her lovely eyes widened and she tried to back away, but couldn’t. He had her trapped against the wall, exactly where he wanted her…

“Well? Answer me.” Ashton slid his hand down her neck. His fingers shaped themselves around the column of her throat, and Rosalind felt a twinge of fear. But rather than throttle her, he caressed her. Her skin broke out into gooseflesh as a sense of anticipation began to rise in her body. Rosalind knew of Ashton’s reputation. He was more than capable of compromising her. But here? Would he dare?

They’d crossed paths once before. Last December they had engaged in a bidding war for a shipping line. She’d conceded to him only because of her curiosity regarding how he’d wounded his arm. In exchange for the truth, she had relented and let him win his bid for the shipping line.

But she hadn’t agreed to relinquish her other interests. Her late husband’s business was important to her, her means of remaining independent. If he thought for one moment she would abandon it because he had the same interests, he was very much mistaken.

“I have just as much right to go after those contracts as you do,” she argued.

His gaze leapt from her eyes to her lips. “If you wanted to get my attention, pet, I assure you that you have it.”

“I’m not your
pet
,” Rosalind snapped.

He crowded her even farther against the wall, pressing his body against hers with a low chuckle.

“You will be. I’ve bent many a woman to my will using her own desires against her. You will be no different.” Ashton pressed his hips forward just enough to make it clear that she could not easily wriggle out.

“It is business, nothing more.” Why did she have to sound so breathless?

“Poppycock.” He used that same dangerously rough voice against her. The usually silly word sounded strangely erotic on his lips.

“It’s true.”

“Liar.”

“How
dare
you call me a liar!” Rosalind hissed in outrage. The blackguard had the nerve to grin at her. Her Scottish temper flared and the natural cadence of her tongue slipped. “Ya bloody galoot!” She broke free of his grasp and smacked a balled fist against his chest.

He grunted at the blow, surprised by her strength no doubt, then glanced down at her fist on his chest. He raised his face to meet her eyes, and quirked one pale brow in challenge. “You’ve not done this ‘business’ to any other shipping line. Only mine.”

She raised her own dark brow right back. “How would you know that?”

“It is my business to know such things.”

“Been spying on me, have you?” She hated that she couldn’t keep herself from sounding like a Scot, rather than the English lady she’d fought so hard to become.

“You admit it then?” He still had his hand on her neck, his elegant fingers stroking her skin, even as she tried to break free of his hold.

“Of course I don’t. I merely wish to know how you came to such a
stupid
conclusion.”

Ashton’s hand on her throat tightened, ever so slightly. A whisper of a threat.

“I met with the other line owners this afternoon. According to them, only I seem to be suffering the effects of your Scottish temper.”

Rosalind blushed out of fury rather than embarrassment. She dug her fingers into the big-boned wrist so close to her neck and tried to remove it. For a moment it seemed she would succeed, and Ashton looked at her in surprise before redoubling his efforts to hold her in place.

“What did you hope to gain by your schemes?” Ashton asked. “I was willing to stay out of your way if you kept away from mine. But here you are, tugging at the tiger’s tail, and you ask me
why
you are on the verge of being bitten?”

“Are you threatening me, Lord Lennox?” Rosalind demanded. Surely he would back down. Surely he would leave her be now that he had made his displeasure known.

“Indeed I am, Lady Melbourne. And I fear you won’t like my method of punishment.”

“I’ve heard of your tricks, Lord Lennox. You won’t break my company. My finances are secure. I have few debts and all my contracts are ironclad. Your ‘punishment’ would be a waste of time.” Rosalind was confident that she had him there. There was nothing he could devise that would scare her in the least.

Until he kissed her.
Hard
.

Rosalind tried to fight him off, but the fierce baron was made of stone for all of her struggles. It was like trying to shift a boulder. A very nice, warm, masculine boulder…

So the baron wants to play that game, does he?

Rosalind would fight fire with fire. He intended to throw her off her senses and replace reason with lust? Did he think her resolve so weak? Every woman could expect such shocking behavior from a man. But had he ever considered how
he
might react if faced by an equally determined woman?

She met him kiss for kiss, leaning in until her body was flush to his. She would not deny it was pleasurable, but she couldn’t afford to think about that, not now. There was a battle afoot and she was going to win!

When he wedged his thigh between her legs and started bunching her skirts up around her hips, she bit his lower lip. Already he was raising the stakes. His fingers dug into the bared skin of her thighs as he lifted her right leg to lock around his hip. The taste of blood and brandy shared by their mouths was a catalyst for Rosalind’s arousal.

She’d always preferred things a bit wild, but her late husband had been far too old and sweet to ever give her what she’d craved. Not like this man who pinned her to the wall. He set fire to her very blood with his hard kisses and rough hands. But it was a tool, a weapon at his disposal, and one he was not afraid to use.

Forcing a hand between their tightly pressed bodies, she clawed a path down his tailored shirt and waistcoat to cup the bulge of his arousal that jabbed her stomach. She squeezed it, expecting him to cry out. Instead there came a throaty growl as he rubbed himself against the palm of her hand like a tame jungle cat.

“God, what you do to me,” he moaned before he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. Something in the gruff way he’d spoken those words made her body burst into flames. She captured his mouth, kissing him back just as ruthlessly. The war continued.

Rosalind writhed against him, trying to get closer, to ease the building ache inside her. An ache she’d thought she’d never feel again for any man. She had cared for the late Lord Melbourne, but there hadn’t been love. And certainly not lust such as this. If only they had met under other circumstances. But it was time to put an end to this.

“You call this a punishment?” she challenged, fighting her desire to smile. His panting and shaking body was all she needed to know he was losing control of himself. The careful, controlled Baron Lennox was about to unleash that dark side he thought he hid so well.

She suspected they were a pair cut from the same cloth. Dark, hungry desires covered by cool, demure behavior in polite society. And she wanted to see how far she could push him. If she could break him the way he was trying to break her.

“You little minx,” Ashton snarled and slammed her back against the wall with such force that she momentarily couldn’t breathe. Her heartbeat spiked again and she gripped the back of his neck, hauling his head down to hers for another kiss.

“Is that the best you can do?” she taunted him.

“What makes you think you’ve seen my best?”

Before Rosalind could react, he penetrated her lacy underpinnings with a hand and cupped her mound. She gasped in disbelief. This was an act of desperation, but one that might just undo her.

Despite the rough plundering of his tongue in her mouth, the fingers between her legs were gentle. They probed her growing wetness, spreading the slick honey of her core about. Her late husband had never touched her like this. He’d taken her body calmly, careful not to hurt her, but he had never truly pleasured her either.