Trusting the Rogue (8 page)

She cupped the soft furry sac containing his balls. He rocked them in her hands, his hips flexing gently under her caress. She kissed his shoulder and ran her tongue gently over his faintly damp skin, the slight salty taste adding to her rolling caress of his sac, creating an excited urge to bite down on his flesh. After a moment’s restraint, Hannah gave in to the urge, biting down on his shoulder as she squeezed him in her palm.

Sir Andrew groaned, his hips rocking faster, until she felt dampness leak from his cock. He gave her no time to ponder that as he pulled her hand away, moving to his knees before her as she lay open to him—open and willing.

He held her gaze as he shifted forward, the head of his cock touching her moist folds. Hannah’s eyelids dipped slightly, but she forced them to remain open so she could watch the man before her as he entered her.

He advanced, his cock stretching her in slow, rocking thrusts. As it came to the top of her core Hannah finally felt full—full of the man before her, the man she had never thought she would want, but now could not imagine being without.

He came down upon her, his chest hovering over hers. Hannah reached for his face, pulling it down to her lips as he began thrusting deep inside her, filling not only her heart but also her soul.

* * * *

Their heavy breathing filled the otherwise silent room. The downpour outside had seemingly reduced to a drizzle in predictable London fashion, with the slight patter of water sounding from above them.

Andrew pulled her closer to him, and it pleased him that Hannah snuggled into his embrace, her face nuzzling into his chest. That had been more than sex—so much more.

At first, his desire had been to prove to her that pleasure could truly be found in the embrace of another. Earlier that evening he had certainly proved it, but this last encounter had been far more.

They had made love.

Never before had Andrew been able to claim to have experienced this with another, but with Hannah, he had simply been beyond himself, free and complete.

He smiled into her hair as he thought of her son—sweet Harold. His questions earlier that evening had awakened already surfacing desires. A family of his own—their family. He held no hesitation to claiming Harold as his own. Of course, Harold was a duke, whereas Andrew was simply a baronet. Still, Andrew held no reservation about raising Harold as his own. The idea of providing the boy with siblings was also a welcoming thought that entered his mind. Yet Hannah was a duchess. Would she be prepared to give up her title to be with him?

Andrew stroked her cooling skin for a moment before he reached for the coverings. He was hardly cold, but she might catch a chill. She murmured her thanks, nuzzling farther against him.

The urge to let her sleep was strong, but stronger still was his urge to know her true thoughts. Was it foolish of him to enquire as to her mind while she lay willing in his embrace?

“Hannah?” he murmured into her hair.

“Mmm?” she replied, inhaling deeply, absently rubbing her face against the fur of his chest.

“How long were you outside Harold’s door?”

She froze, her body stiffening slightly. Andrew wanted to curse the words that had brought her out of the relaxed state she had been submerged in, but alas, he found himself still craving the answers.

“I came upon the room as you captured the dragon for him,” she said softly, her voice barely reaching his ears.

She had heard it all—all of Harold’s questions and all of his answers. Yet they had just made love, embraced each other in the most connected way a couple could. Would she have done that after hearing his words if she wanted nothing to do with him other than her newfound pleasure?

“You care for my son,” she stated.

“I do. He is an amazing lad.” He felt her nod against him. “Just as you are the most captivating woman I have ever beheld.”

Andrew waited with bated breath for her response. Would she demand that he leave her bed, her home, or would she embrace him? The moments of silence suggested neither.

Finally, after a moment that seemed to linger, she rose before him. Andrew rolled onto his back as she stared at him, the faint flame from the lamp at the other side of the room offering him little light to gaze upon her features.

“You mean that?”

He gave a nod, reaching for her face, pushing a stray curl back behind her ear. “Indeed, I do.”

“Why?”

He frowned. “Why? Why do you captivate me?” At her nod, he continued, “Hannah, from the first moment I saw you in the park, your care and worry for your son warmed me no end.” He felt the corners of his lips lift. “The grace of your body was perhaps what stood out to me most at the time, but your care of Harold is what I remember most vividly now. The way you helped Anna through her children’s birth, the way you looked with those babes in your arms… It grew a longing within me to see our child in your arms. I know I will love Harold like a son, if I do not already. Would you give me that chance, Hannah, to be a father to our children?”

He traced his thumb over her cheek and felt wetness there. She cried. He sat up and pulled her into his arms, cradling her in his embrace as he kissed away the tears upon her face.

“I hold no doubts about your feelings for Harold. I see them as plain as day. What I don’t understand is how you feel for me,” she uttered.

He almost snorted. “How could you not? Do you think what we shared just now is what every bedding is like? It is hardly the case. We just made love, my dear—the pleasure and connection were unlike anything I have felt before, and I know I will never feel that way with any other woman. I want you, Hannah—only you.”

“The duke never wanted me.”

“Then he was a fool, for I can see no one else in my future that I want more than you. I will give my whole heart and soul to you and Harold. Will you grant me leave to do that—love you both as you so richly deserve?”

Hannah pulled away from him and for a moment fear gripped at his flesh. But as she raised a hand to his face, tracing the lines of his jaw, then his lips, there was something in her touch that gave him hope.

“Love? Are you sure that this is what you feel?” she whispered.

Never in his life had he been so sure. “Indeed, my dear. My love for you is so strong I am certain they will hear it on the wind in Scotland. It travels upon every breath I take and I hold no care to stop it.”

She gave a gentle laugh as her mouth reached his. Andrew’s soul felt free once more as he pulled the woman before him into his arms. He loved her well into the morning, giving them both hope of a life filled with love and family.

Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

Rogues of Deception: The Rose’s Bloom

Danielle Lisle

Excerpt

Chapter One

A clear blue sky was a rarity at this time of year. England had the worst weather, apart from Scotland, perhaps, where it rained no matter what the season.

Damon knew he shouldn’t complain, especially on a day as grand as this. The birds were singing, the wind whispered softly as it passed him, and the wildlife rustled in the underbrush. He was not after a small creature. No, he had his sights on a mighty stag. His man of business had mentioned seeing one in the area when he had recently journeyed from London. How prized would the animal look hanging on his wall? Of course, his study was already filled with the heads of other beasts, but Damon would make sure his staff found room for this creature’s massive antlers.

Approaching the large, winding river where he hoped his prey would stop to drink, Damon was surprised to notice a white mare tethered to a fallen tree. The mare raised her head as he approached, though she paid him and his black stallion little mind, finding the greenery below more appealing. He noticed the horse wore a sidesaddle and Damon’s eyebrows drew down as he looked for another steed. The mare was a fine horse, her saddle also of noble quality, yet it was unlikely a lady of nobility would have ridden out alone. A lady would never be found unchaperoned. It could ruin her reputation.

Scanning the tree line along the wide river, he became more puzzled as time progressed. Had the lady come to some harm? Where was she?

A sudden ripple in the water caught his attention. A woman rose, gasping for breath, taking the air deep into her lungs before she laughed, flipping onto her back, floating around as she gazed up at the blue sky.

It took Damon a moment to overcome his shock at the woman’s sudden appearance before he noticed she wore nothing but her slip. A very sheer slip. His eyes moved hungrily over the wet material, which clung to the vibrant curves underneath. The round softness of her breasts and the darker shadow at the apex of her sex intrigued him, as it would any hot-blooded male. His cock hardened as he sat upon his steed, conflicted between twin desires—to watch, or to make the girl aware of his presence? The former won out, and he encouraged his steed backwards, into the thickness of the forest along the river, concealing their presence. He was thankful for the soft splatter of water falling from the small waterfall upstream, masking his steed’s hoof falls.

Unable to bear not viewing her for long, Damon dismounted and tethered his stallion to a branch before hurrying back towards the river, where he perched himself against a tree like a hunter stalking his prey.

The girl, who he could now see clearly to be about eight and ten, perhaps, still floated carelessly on top of the water. She kicked her legs gracefully and ever so slightly, to keep herself from drifting downriver. Upon each movement, as a leg bent, the wet material of her slip clung to her sex, teasing him with glimpses of the hidden treasure.

His cock pulsed in his breeches, reminding Damon it had been too long since he had bedded a woman. Shifting his stance to release the tension behind the fabric, Damon groaned. Instead of easing his discomfort, it seemed to have advanced it. How divine it would feel to sink into the warmth of a woman’s sheath at that moment, pounding into her heavenly softness with the sun’s heat at his back. He shifted his stance again. Blast it!

His mind then travelled over the possibilities of who this woman could be. Several properties surrounded his own and shared access to the river. Her steed indicated she was a lady of quality—her identity could fall to a number of daughters of lords in the area.

The soft and carefree humming of the woman focused his attention back to her tempting body as it floated on the water’s surface. This section of the river was calm, the stream flowing little, yet enough to turn her around, exposing her as a delectable feast for his eyes.

His reverie was cut short as she rolled onto her stomach and leisurely swam towards the bank where her horse waited. Stepping out of the water, she climbed a large, flat boulder, which sat half submerged a few feet from where he stood.

The fabric clung to her greedily, outlining a detailed view of her body for anyone to see. He was thankful it was a private viewing. Damon had never been a man who liked to share. Her dark hair hung over her shoulders, and as she moved forward wetness, which gripped at her skin and the fabric of her shift, glistened in the sunlight. His cock twitched yet again—the image of her walking out of the water, the sun illuminating her from behind, gave the appearance that she was wearing nothing at all. If he never saw the sun again, he would be forever thankful for it choosing to shine on this grand day. He barely resisted the urge to stroke himself as he watched her sensual movements.

She was not a small woman, nor was she a large one, merely voluptuous. Simply delicious. Would a woman who looked as sturdy as she be able to endure his fierce desire? Damon forced himself to hold in his groan of longing.

She perched herself on the stone slab, looking around, scanning the trees, including the ones which concealed him. Feeling like a coward where he stood hidden, Damon still felt no urge to make his presence known. He was interested to see what the chit was up to. Her blush and excited expression led him to believe she was about to be less than proper. He was not disappointed.

As she lifted the fabric of her slip to rest on her hips, Damon was graced with an unobstructed view of her cunt. Tight, dark curls shielded her rosy flesh from his eyes, but his mouth watered and his cock jumped in anticipation.

She settled back, bringing her knees up, laying her head on the stone beneath. Damon crept out from his hiding spot, desperate to be closer, eager to hear any noise she made as he watched her curious fingers wander tentatively down to her box. His cock twitched in wonder.

Giggling at herself for being foolish enough to listen to her friend’s gossip at Lady Helen’s high tea yesterday, Claire lay on the damp slab. Their host’s daughter and her dear friend, Lady Margaret, had boasted of how a woman need not want or require a husband in life, other than to provide his seed for an heir. A woman could gain pleasure of her own.

Claire had thought Lady Margaret was speaking only of needlework or shopping, yet after a rather scandalous conversation in the garden as they’d walked arm in arm, Claire had been shocked to hear what her friend had confessed. It seemed she found pleasure in exploring her private woman’s area. Claire had wondered for a moment if her friend was jesting, but it had quickly become clear she was doing nothing of the sort. Quite animatedly, Lady Margaret had informed Claire that touching one’s private area could be a rather joyous undertaking.

Feeling daft for even attempting something she was sure should fall to the man she would one day marry, Claire still felt the burning urge to research this new theory.

Reaching down to an area she had never paid much attention to, other than during bathing, Claire began to explore. After casting a guilty look around, she felt confident in the knowledge she and Maise, her mare, were the only ones present to witness her folly.