Her Wicked Proposal: The League of Rogues, Book 3 (9 page)

Cedric met the gaze of his close friend and for a moment he was fully sober, fully in command of himself.

“I’m as wise as the day I met you,” Cedric replied, to which his friend almost burst out laughing. Ashton really should have learned by now to trust him on matters of risk.

The night Cedric and Ashton had first met was the night they had saved Charles from being drowned by Hugo Waverly. They’d been aided by Lucien and Godric, and that night the League had been formed. Cedric had been the calmest during that harrowing rescue, which no doubt had helped save Charles’s life.

They had only failed in one thing that night. Another man had been the first to try and save Charles from Hugo, and he’d paid the price for his bravery. His death haunted the League still, and it was the reason Hugo had damned them all that night.

“Very well.” Ashton laid his cards down, signaling his withdrawal.

“Then we have a wager, my lord?” Al Zahrani asked.

Cedric flashed him a mad grin. “We do.”

Both men revealed their hands, and Cedric snickered in triumph. Everyone but Ashton exclaimed in wonder at Cedric’s winning hand.

“When shall I come by and collect my mares?” Cedric asked with a satisfied smile, like a cat fattened on a canary.

Al Zahrani spat, throwing his cards down and leaping to his feet. “You cheated! There was no way I could have lost. It was a mathematical impossibility!”

Cedric scoffed. “Me a cheat? Nonsense. I played a decent hand of whist. Any Englishman could have done that.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, not at all perturbed by the fury of the Arabian merchant.

“I will
not
give you my horses! I refuse!” Al Zahrani shouted with such loathing that poor Freddy Poncenby dove under the nearest card table for cover.

Ashton sighed at the sight of Freddy’s green and white striped trousered bottom peeping out from under the table’s edge.

“I played fair with you, Al Zahrani. Every man here saw the game. I won and you owe me your forfeit, lest your business associates in England learn of your unwillingness to honor a debt. Don’t tell me
you
are the one who’s afraid?” Cedric finally stood, but the action was a leisurely uncoiling of his strong, athletic frame. The others stepped back, giving Cedric and Al Zahrani plenty of room to handle themselves should they come to blows.

After an intense duel of stares, the merchant backed down. “So be it! I will have them sent to your residence in the morning. Enjoy them while you can. Justice ultimately arrives to men such as you. When that day comes, I will walk over your grave, have my horses back and laugh last,” Al Zahrani declared.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve never expected to live long or peacefully. If you want revenge for an honest game of cards then you best get in line, because I’ve done much worse to much better men, and they have more of a right to kill me than you.”

“This is not the end between us, Lord Sheridan.”

“Yes it is. Either call me out or walk away with your heart still beating.”

Al Zahrani glared at Cedric before leaving with his guards.

Once he was gone, Ashton and Cedric resumed their seats along with James.

“You chaps really play for keeps,” the Earl of Pembroke muttered with a strained smile.

“Of course we do.” Cedric shot him a devil-may-care grin.

“Er, Poncenby, you can come out now.” Ashton nudged the tip of his Hessian boot against the striped rump of the cowering dandy. Freddy emerged, looking embarrassed, his face scarlet to the roots of his fashionably cut brown hair.

“Well if you will excuse me, I’ve had enough excitement for one night.” Freddy bid the others adieu and practically sprinted for the door. There was a loud crash and shriek as a servant boy was run over by Freddy making his exit from Berkeley’s.

Cedric smothered a laugh. What good luck to finally have two purebred Arabian mares with pedigrees worth a fortune! Now only if he could find a decent stallion to breed them with…

* * * * *

Anne focused on Cedric’s face, secretly enjoying the wealth of emotions that flitted across his features as he told her the story. “You don’t think the Arab will return for you, do you?”

Cedric smiled. “He left London shortly after he delivered the mares to me. He simply had to make a show of pride before he left, and I had to respond in kind. It is the way of things when the stakes are so high.”

He showed more animation than she’d seen from him since he’d gone blind. For a brief few minutes he’d been the old Cedric again, the one who…

Anne shook her head, dispelling thoughts of the past, thoughts that stung too deeply.

“You men and your pride. Is there nothing else that matters to you?”

Cedric’s deep laugh poured over her. “Oh, my dear, you bait me with your innocence by asking that.”

“What do you mean?”

Cedric cupped her chin and tilted his head down in reply, finding her lips with ease. Anne stiffened as his tongue traced the seam of her lips. Her hands fisted against his chest, as she went rigid in his lap.

Cedric pulled his mouth away to whisper, “Don’t forget what you promised, Anne. Don’t turn to ice in my arms, love.” He brushed his nose against her cheek. “Please, my heart, don’t shut me out.”

His coaxing words tugged her down the slope of desire. It was more than lust, more than carnal craving. She might have been able to stop herself, to keep herself from surrendering, if he hadn’t dipped his mouth to her neck and nipped her skin, following it with a slow, teasing lick. The sharp but light sting of his teeth sent a wave of pleasure through her. Anne lost control and melted in his lap.

Cedric growled low as she let herself go limp in his arms and trembled at his kisses. He reached out to the side of the settee, gauging the distance to the other side before he slowly tilted Anne back to lie beneath him. He slid her skirts upward, pushing them into a pool around her hips. Then he palmed her knees, before gently nudging them apart. She should have clamped her thighs together, but instead she threw her head back and let her knees fall apart.

Cedric stroked his hand along her inner thigh, then bent her leg up. She moved with him, understanding that she needed to offer a cradle for his trim hips. She dropped her other leg off the edge of the settee, giving him ample room to lower himself down between her thighs.

The intimacy of their position was unbearable. Her breasts rose and fell with her soft, rapid panting. Trapped beneath him, she was at his mercy and did not mind as much as she should have. It seemed only natural that her hands would fall on his shoulders and glide under the tight-fitting jacket, peeling it off his body. He shrugged the coat loose and it dropped to the floor. She couldn’t find it in herself to care that they might actually… She blushed a little, unable to even think the words.

Right here in the library…

* * * * *

Cedric bent his head, his lips seeking any part of Anne that he could reach. She gasped when he reached the soft swell of the tops of her breasts and rained kisses down upon them. He was eager to delve beneath her bodice, to taste the pearled tips of those nipples, but reminded himself to slow down—he wouldn’t bed his future wife in the library of his friend’s house…well, at least not a woman like Anne. She deserved far better than that for her first time.

He didn’t want to rush their lovemaking, not when he knew it would hurt her. But he could give her a taste of what was yet to come. Cedric rolled his hips hard against hers, grinding his erection against the silk of her underpinnings. Anne arched off the settee with a startled moan, pressing herself against him.

Cedric’s lips trailed back up her throat to her mouth to nibble on her bottom lip until she whimpered. She seemed entirely unaware of the little sounds she made. Her inner wanton woman was in full control, and not just of her. Each sound, each shift of her body wreaked havoc on his sanity. And then she spoke…

“Are…the Arabian mares here in London?” Her voice was breathless, and Cedric rubbed himself harder against her, wanting her silent save for cries of pleasure. But he fought off a smile when she struggled again to repeat her question. His woman certainly did love horses.

“No. They’re in Brighton.” He nuzzled her neck before biting down hard without warning, like a lion holding his female still for mating. She gasped in surprise, her fingers digging into his shoulders clawing him, not to release her but to hold him to her body. Cedric felt ready to roar. He’d found her weakness, that smooth delicious neck. Every woman had a secret spot that would drive them wild, make them senseless. Men had fewer such spots, obviously, but as a rake, Cedric had learned early on that finding a woman’s pleasure point was the key to success, both for her enjoyment and his own. Having found Anne’s, he would be merciless.

“Brighton? Why Brighton?”

Damn, the woman still has enough sense to talk? I’ve been out of practice too long.
Cedric sank his teeth into the skin between her neck and shoulder, his hands sliding along her sides, then up under her skirts to cup her bottom. He jerked her into him just as he rocked himself ferociously against her. Anne twitched and trembled with violent shivers, murmuring a started exclamation he couldn’t hear over the roaring of the blood in his ears. Damnation, the woman would be his undoing with her natural sensuality.

Never enough, I’ll never get enough of her.

Cedric caught Anne’s lips with his, invading the silken recesses of her mouth, questing for her timid tongue.

Every touch, every stroke, each delicious sensation and taste was all he had in the darkness, but it was glorious. Anne was glorious. Experiencing such passion as this with her was different from anything he’d ever expected. How was it possible that it was better than even his darkest fantasies had promised?

Never enough…
Cedric tensed with his own need to come as Anne climaxed beneath him. Caged in by his arms, she shook with the aftermath of the moment and then buried her face in the groove of his neck. The intimate gesture, the silent communication, warmed his entire body with something that had nothing to do with the physical pleasure he’d just experienced.

Her hot breath, coming out in tiny pants, only heightened the pain in his groin. He would have none of his own pleasure, not tonight. But this was progress. He’d achieved the feat of truly pleasuring her, something he was certain no man before him had ever accomplished. There was a primitive sense of satisfaction from knowing that he was her first in that regard.

Cedric eased his weight off her. “Are you all right, my heart?” He could feel her start to pull away, but he caught her waist and tugged her against him as they both sat up.

“I don’t know. Is that how… Does it always…” Anne seemed unable to find the right words. He could only imagine the confusion she must have felt at experiencing a climax for the first time.
La petite mort
could be frightening but also exciting for a young lady who didn’t know what to expect, or so he’d been told.

“If done properly, then yes. And I do believe I know what I am doing when it comes to this sort of thing.” Cedric wished he could have seen her face. It was the one thing he’d loved most when in bed with a woman. There was something stunning about how a woman’s face lit up with ecstasy and joy as she came apart in his arms.

I will never see such joy on Anne’s face.

“What if someone had come upon us?” Anne asked, her body stiffening in his loose hold.

“They didn’t. And even if they had, we are engaged, and in a week we will be man and wife and it will no longer matter. Besides, no one under this roof would judge us.” Cedric brushed his knuckles over her cheek. Anne leaned away from his touch.

That one small action sliced his heart. Would she always pull away from him? He could not marry a woman who fought him at every turn. He wanted, no, he
needed
someone who would not shy away from his touch. Cedric dropped his hand with a heavy sigh and let go of her waist.

“You should go. I wish to be alone.”

Anne didn’t move.

“Please leave me,” he said more loudly.

“Why?” Her surprise sounded genuine.

“Anne, stop. Your due diligence is appreciated, but you never wanted to be here with me. Just go back to the others. I would hate to further disgust you with my advances.” Cedric rose from the settee and turned his back to where he believed her to be. He was still hard and it angered him that he wanted her so much even when he was as upset as this. He desperately wanted to bed a woman who hated his very touch, and touch was the one sense he most relied on now. The irony was almost laughable. Almost. His only advantage was to use her inexperience with passion to overwhelm her.

“You don’t disgust me, Lord Sheridan,” Anne insisted.

Cedric huffed. “You can’t seem to escape me fast enough whenever I let you go.”

“I merely can’t abide the thought of intimacy before our wedding. I want to obey the rules, even though I know you are far past that point in your…experiences.”

“Rules? We’ve broken most of the rules already. One more shouldn’t bother you, Anne. That is how I know you don’t want me. When two people desire each other they have trouble waiting. They don’t go stiff in each other’s arms or pull away from a devoted caress.”

Cedric frowned, considering his options. It wasn’t too late to call off the ceremony. They had a few days to undo the wedding preparations.

“I’m crying off, Miss Chessley.” He no longer felt the desire to breathe her given name. He’d once loved that her name was one smooth syllable, so easily murmured like a lover’s sigh after a moment of bliss. Now it brought him pain.

“Crying off?” Anne’s voice rose sharply.

“Yes. I do not wish to burden you with a husband you don’t desire, and I will not shackle myself to a wife who loathes my touch.”

“You truly think I loathe you? Look at me!” Anne spun him forcibly to face her.

“I
can’t
look at you. Surely you haven’t forgotten that.”