Rogue's Honor (18 page)

He stared. "I beg your pardon, my lady?
Surely you're not asking me to—"

"To deflower me, yes." Ignoring the quivering
in her belly at what she was suggesting, she kept her voice and
expression cool, as though discussing one of her social reforms.
"Without my virtue intact, Obelia will be unable to prevail upon
anyone to marry me. My estates will be secure, and I will be able
to proceed with my plans for them."

Luke still looked as though he could not
believe he had heard her aright. "You cannot have thought this
through. You would be shunned by Society. You may wish to marry at
some time in the future, to have a family . . ."

"Indeed, I have thought it through." So
thoroughly, in fact, that even now she felt her color rising, a
heat stirring in her nether regions. She had to admit to herself
that she wanted him for reasons that had nothing to do with terms
of inheritance —with Fairbourne.

"I care nothing for Society," she continued
determinedly after a moment. "I plan to spend all of my time at
Fairbourne once it is mine. I am far too strong-willed to marry,
and I don't foresee that changing. A husband would only attempt to
impose his will over mine. I would resist, and we should both be
miserable. I'll deal much better alone."

And lonely . . . but she would not think of
that. Not now. Not yet. Not while she still might have one night of
passion with Luke. "Will you do it?"

Slowly, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, my
lady. I simply can't—"

Disappointment and frustration seized her,
but she refused to beg. Instead she stood, holding out a hand to
him. "Wait. Before you refuse, I wish to show you something."

As though in a daze, he took her proffered
hand and rose. Without another word, she led him to the corner of
the library, to the right of the fireplace. There, she turned an
almost invisible catch to open a narrow door, disguised as part of
the mahogany paneling. She peered into the dimly lit servants'
corridor, listening intently for a moment, before leading Luke
through the door and closing it carefully behind them.

"A secret passage?" he asked in surprise.

"Not particularly secret, but hidden, yes.
Many of the larger houses have them, so that the servants can
perform their various duties without intruding upon the public
rooms. I am surprised you have not found them of use yourself in
your, ah, career. Come."

Though she still spoke lightly, her heart
pounded at what she was intending. He mustn't suspect, though. Not
yet.

Still seemingly bemused, he followed her as
she led him quickly up a narrow flight of stairs, around a corner,
and down another passage. To her vast relief, they passed no
servants along the way— doubtless they were all busy serving the
guests. At the end of the corridor, she cautiously opened another
door, the one into her own sitting room.

"Wait here a moment," she whispered to Luke.
Then, stepping into the room, "Hettie?"

Her maid, employed in winding up some ribbons
at Pearl's dressing table, started violently. "My lady! Whatever
are you doing in—"

"Escaping," Pearl responded, cutting her off.
She closed the door behind her, Luke still in the passageway. "I've
done it before, you know. Pray go downstairs for me and tell the
Duchess that I have the headache. Mr. di Santo has gone, as he felt
uncomfortable facing the company without me, so pray make his
apologies as well."

Hettie sent her one piercing stare, but then
nodded. "Of course, my lady. Then I'll return to help you out of
your things."

"No need," Pearl assured her. "If you'll just
undo these hooks at my back before you go, I'll put myself to bed.
I really am quite tired. I shall see you in the morning."

Obediently, Hettie unfastened the back of
Pearl's gown and then left, using the regular door, as she was
going in search of the Duchess in the public rooms. Pearl locked it
behind her.

At once she returned to the hidden door, half
afraid Luke would have figured out her intention and disappeared.
He was still waiting, however, and she ushered him into her rooms.
"We can be private now," she told him, ignoring her growing
nervousness.

He appeared to detect it, however, for he
gave her a long, searching look before saying, "You had something
you wished to show me?"

"Yes. That is . . ." Mindful of her unhooked
dress, she awkwardly backed her way to her desk, to pick up a
periodical. "The
Political Register
," she said inanely.
"Have you read it?"

His expression told her how odd her behavior
seemed, though he followed her to the desk. "Not recently. Is there
a particular article you want me to see?"

How on earth did one launch a seduction,
anyway? she wondered frantically. In a moment, if she didn't do
something, he would be gone and her last chance with him. He
reached for the magazine, but she tweaked it away before he could
touch it, holding it behind her.

"Luke, I . . . " Boldly, she met his eyes,
hoping he might read there what she couldn't seem to put into
words.

That he read something there was clear. In
his own eyes she saw a sudden longing, which became naked desire
for an instant, before he as quickly concealed it. That one brief
glimpse gave her badly-needed courage, however. Dropping the
magazine behind her, she laid one hand on his arm.

He covered her gloved hand with his own,
still gazing into her eyes. "Pearl, you are playing with fire that
you don't understand. You are such an innocent."

Fire indeed. The flame behind his dark eyes
singed her to her toes, but now she did not hesitate. With her
other hand, she touched his cheek. "I know I am, but I want you to
change that," she said softly. "Please, Luke."

He closed his eyes, and she could sense the
struggle within him. The knowledge that he was tempted emboldened
her further. She slid her hand from his cheek to the nape of his
neck, swaying infinitesimally closer to him. A quick glance
downward showed that he was most definitely affected.

His eyes opened, smoky with desire, though he
held himself rigid beneath her touch. "Do you have any idea of what
you're doing to me?"

"Yes, for you do the same to me," she said.
"Please don't deny me, Luke."

With a groan, he crushed her to him, covering
her mouth with his own. She returned the kiss with enthusiasm, fire
licking along her extremities. This was what she had dreamed of
ever since leaving his lodgings a week ago. This and more. Wanting
to feel again his skin against hers, she stripped off her gloves
one by one, without breaking the kiss. As she'd done once before,
she threaded her bare fingers through his hair.

At her touch, however, he seemed to regain
his senses. Pulling back, he regarded her longingly from only a few
inches away. "We can't, you know," he told her. "I can't. I would
never forgive myself."

"I'll never forgive you if you don't," she
replied with a smile, intoxicated by his nearness and the sense of
her own power over him. "It is my life, Luke, and I've made my
decision —for independence. Help me to achieve it."

For another long moment he gazed at her,
conflict warring within his eyes. She saw his surrender the moment
he made it. With a glad little cry of triumph, she welcomed his
kiss, his touch. He stripped off his own gloves, then clasped her
free hand, flesh to flesh, while his other hand went to the nape of
her neck, drawing her closer.

She pressed her length against his, reveling
in his masculine hardness. Tall herself, it seemed right that he
was several inches taller. Skimming her hands up the firm planes of
his chest, she untied his cravat, then began working on his
waistcoat buttons. She half expected another protest, but it did
not come.

Instead, he shrugged out of his coat, then
reached behind her. He paused, on discovering her dress was already
unfastened, then chuckled deep in his throat. "Decisive indeed," he
murmured against her lips.

"I'm accustomed to getting what I want," she
whispered teasingly. "And I've wanted you almost from the moment we
met." His waistcoat undone, she started on his shirt.

"It appears that rank has its advantages
after all," he said with another chuckle. "Who am I to deny a grand
lady like yourself?"

Who indeed? Pearl wondered. But only for an
instant. Her whole being was focused on getting closer to him, on
having the desire singing through her veins fulfilled. She had his
waistcoat off him now, and his shirt. Luke had somehow worked her
gown down to her waist, and was nearly done unlacing her light
corset. A moment later, nothing but her thin chemise separated her
breasts from his bare chest.

"I presume you have a bed nearby?" Luke asked
as she stepped free of the shimmering peach folds of her gown.
Pearl nodded toward her bedchamber door, which stood ajar. To her
amazement, he swept her into his arms and actually carried her to
the next room. If any other man had done something so high-handed,
she'd have been outraged or even frightened. But with Luke, it only
increased her desire.

Even as she registered her amazing attitude
toward this man, he deposited her on the sumptuously quilted
feather bed. Sitting on the edge, he removed his shoes —and then
his breeches. Following his lead, Pearl whisked her shift off over
her head while his back was turned. Then he faced her, his eyes
aflame.

For an instant, at her very first sight of an
aroused male body, Pearl quailed. Surely . . . surely this would be
impossible? How . . . ?

Luke smiled tenderly and kissed her. "I'll be
gentle, I promise. I don't want this to be something you'll
remember with regret —ever."

She relaxed. "I trust you." And she meant it.
Amazingly, she had never trusted anyone as wholeheartedly as she
trusted this man who had lied to her almost from the moment she'd
met him. "Show me what to do."

"Ever my little academic," he said with a
grin. But then, pulling her against him, he sobered. "I want you,
Pearl. And I want you to want me. But you must be absolutely
sure."

In answer, she lay back, pulling his face
down to hers for a kiss, running her hands up and down his bare
back, enjoying the warm, firm smoothness of his skin. Shifting
slightly, he did the same. His fingers seemed to leave a trail of
fire everywhere they touched. She wanted more —much more.

He gave it to her.

Slipping one hand between them, he ran his
palm down her belly, making her quiver. Then, before she could even
realize what it was she needed, he buried his fingers in the
cluster of curls between her thighs. She gasped with pure pleasure,
a pleasure so sharp it was almost pain. But still he had not
done.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he massaged the
spot that was the focus of her desire, then slipped one strong
finger inside her. Instinctively, she tightened around him and he
drew in a quick breath. Then, still slowly, he moved his finger
out, then back in, setting up a rhythm that her body echoed,
demanded.

Though she wanted these wonderful sensations
to go on forever, she still wanted more. Cupping his muscular
buttocks in her hands, she pulled him closer, until the hard shaft
that had shocked her with its size brushed against her, right next
to his questing fingers.

When he broke the rhythm within her, she
nearly cried out in protest, but at once he replaced his finger
with the very tip of his shaft. Slowly he reestablished the rhythm,
sliding ever so slightly inside her, then withdrawing. Without
thought, she moved her hips to greet him, urging him deeper with
each thrust.

They rocked together, first gently, then more
and more forcefully, until finally he drove into her with his
entire length. Pearl gasped, her body seeming to explode into a
shower of colorful sparks. Never had she imagined such sensation,
such ecstasy, was possible. She tightened around him convulsively
as he thrust again and again. Then, with a shuddering sigh, he
thrust one last time, even more deeply, and remained there, his
arms wrapped tightly around her as he expended himself into her
depths.

For several long minutes they lay entwined.
Pearl felt her heartbeat gradually returning to normal as a sweet
lassitude came over her. Refusing to think beyond the moment yet,
she gloried in the contentment pervading her mind and body.

All too soon, Luke stirred, but only to touch
her cheek gently, and to kiss her lightly on the lips. The warmth
had not left his eyes. "No regrets?" he asked softly.

She smiled at him—at her lover. "None at all.
I never imagined . . ."

"Nor did I." Now his expression was one of
wonder. "Pearl, I . . . I . . ." He seemed on the verge of
disclosing something vitally important, his eyes burning into her
in their intensity. Then, suddenly, his expression changed.
Swallowing visibly, he pulled away from her— first emotionally,
then physically.

She started to protest, but restrained
herself. He was right, of course. She had known —they both had
known —that he must leave, most likely never to see her again.
Better that whatever feelings they shared remained unspoken. But
while the logical portion of her mind explained all this to her,
her heart wailed in silent sorrow for what could never be.

In silence, he resumed his clothing and she
her shift and then a nightrail, he apparently as deep in thought as
she. Was it possible that he also wished . . . ? But no, she could
not ask him. It would not be fair to either of them.

* * *

Luke finished dressing and faced this woman
who had become so inexpressibly dear to him. He had to leave, of
course, for her sake even more than his own. But saying goodbye,
most likely forever, was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever
done.

"You won't return to . . . to thievery, will
you?" she asked hesitantly, her concern evident.