Romancing the Rogue (109 page)

by Kristin Vayden

The magic of Christmas captivated Grace Hashiver each year. Yet as each year passed, she gave into the call of sleep and failed to wake in time to see Father Christmas. Tonight she was not making that same mistake. She softly tiptoed down the hardwood stairs without making a sound. This year she was a year older, a year wiser — she was eight. Her lace nightgown whispered against the wooden floor as she made it down the stairs and through the hall undetected.

The light was dim but brighter than usual from the extra candles her father always requested to stay lit all night on Christmas Eve. She sensed her slight shoulders lift in a deep breath before she tiptoed to the parlor. After a quick glance behind her, she walked into the room, richly scented from the cedar boughs placed over the hearth. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes and relaxed. She hadn’t missed the magic. The fire crackled as she sat in the chair facing the tree and struggled to stay awake as time ticked forward. Perhaps this time, she would see the magic of Christmas when the clock struck midnight.

Something poked at Grace. The incessant prodding pulled her from a blissful dream. A moment later she had the brief sensation of weightlessness until the floor broke her fall.

“What…” She began to pull her foggy mind into gear but paused, hearing a snicker.
Ewan
.

“What’er you doin’ on the floor, Gracie?”

“I wasn’t on the floor ’til
you
poked me!” Grace whispered back in a voice that betrayed her intense fury.

“Were too. I saw you. Curled up like your mum’s poodle.”

“If anyone looks like a poodle, it’s you, Ewan!” she said as she fumbled trying to pick herself up off the cold floor.

“I do not. Besides, boys can have curls just as easily as girls,” he said with all the confidence his eleven years afforded him.

“What are
you
doing here anyway?” Grace asked, standing up and pushing her braids over her shoulders. “You’ve no manners, wandering around in the middle of the night.” She shook a finger at him.

“Oh, and I guess you’re better?
You’re
here too, ya know.” He crossed his arms and waited for her response in his usual arrogant fashion, tapping his toe.

“Yes, but
I live
here. You. Do. Not,” she enunciated, crossing her arms as well as she leaned forward, squinting.

“True, but that means I’m your guest. You’ve gotta serve me.” Ewan’s chin tilted upward as he smiled at his own brilliance.

Grace felt her eyes grow wide. “Serve you? I’m not your maid. I doubt there’s a maid that would willingly serve you — you… arrogant worm.” Her anger increased as Ewan refused to be properly insulted — worse, he laughed at her efforts.

“Yep, that’s the rules; you’ve gotta serve me. I’m your guest, so, I’d like you to move over so I can have this seat by the tree.” He moved to sit down.

“No!” Grace shouted as she lunged for the chair.

He lunged at the same time, pushing her away. Grace tried to move him, but he was too strong, too big. The fury built inside Grace, causing her to look for a weapon or something to help her remove the miserable boy from the chair. She noticed her father’s brandy. She rushed over to the side table, grabbed the decanter, and poured it on Ewan. Though not enough to get the chair wet, it was enough to soak his nightshirt. Ewan froze, giving Grace a glare that chilled her insides.

“What is going on here?”

Ewan and Grace both gasped as she heard the sound of her father’s voice.

Ewan’s eyes widened, and Grace turned slowly and saw her father’s bewildered expression. He took in the sight of Grace still holding his now empty brandy decanter, and Ewan soaked with its contents.

“He — he — he…” Grace tried to think fast, but all she could think about was how she simply just wanted Ewan gone. He had been a thorn in her side all week, teasing, pulling her hair, calling her awful names — and as of yet, she hadn’t once bested him. So, Grace lied. “Papa, I told Ewan you wouldn’t approve of him drinking your brandy, but well, he insisted and when I tried to take it away…”

She began to cry out of fear, knowing if she were caught in her lie, she’d be punished severely.

“Ewan!” Grace’s father scolded.

“Sir, I never — I didn’t — She—” Ewan sputtered as he stood pointing at Grace, trying to explain the truth.

“Ewan, you march to your room and change.”

Ewan began to protest again, but Grace’s father held up his hand to silence his efforts. “No. Not another word. We’ll speak more about this in the morning. Your parents will surely have something to say about sneaking around a host’s home and pilfering brandy.”

Grace’s father crossed his arms as he waited for Ewan to obey.

Ewan stood up and shot daggers at Grace before marching out of the room, leaving the smell of brandy in his wake.

“Sweetling, why don’t you put down the decanter and head to bed? Why were you up, anyway?” her father asked gently as he took the decanter from her trembling hand.

“I… I wanted to see Father Christmas,” Grace replied, still terrified he’d see through her falsehood and punish her.

“Ahh, I see.” Winding his arms around her small frame he carried her off to bed.

“We’ll see the magic in the morning,” he replied as he tucked her in, kissing the end of her nose.

“All right, Papa.” She watched him as he left, but couldn’t sleep. Oh, Ewan was going to be so angry with her! Fear crept in her heart as she wondered how he’d retaliate. For if there was one thing she knew about Ewan, the future Duke of Greys, it was that he would get even someday.

“How’s my pretty little liar tonight? Hmm?” Ewan Emmett, Duke of Greys, asked.

“Delightful, now that I’m dancing with you, your grace.” The false sweetness dripped from Lady Grace Hashiver’s lips with practiced execution. Her wide mouth pulled into a sarcastic smile that was all too familiar.

He still loved to taunt and provoke her. Satisfaction settled in his chest at her reaction. “Ah, Grace, sarcasm does
not
become you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “It’s
Lady
Grace to you.” She spoke with a defiant tilt of her chin.

“Most people are too intimidated to correct me. Tell me, where did I go wrong with you? A little humility, any semblance of respect from your lips would be manna from heaven. But I’m sure Hades would have to freeze over first?” he asked with a wicked grin, arching his eyebrow as he spoke the last words, knowing their truth.

“Ah, you’re smarter than you let on, your grace,” she mocked, beaming at him.

Unaffected, he continued with their banter. “Our little secret. After all, I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun for all the blushing debutantes who only want me for my physique.” Ewan waited for her prickly response. He knew how much she despised his teasing.

“Yes, well, some value looks over anything else, including manners,” Grace shot back while she offered him a dismissive look and focused her attention on the other dancers.

“Ah, yes, the old ‘manners’ debate, but, we have digressed. Tell me, Grace dear, where did I go wrong with you? Haven’t you the slightest tremble when I hold you in my arms, press myself close to you, lean down to whisper in your ear?” With a suppressed chuckle, he leaned down and pressed closer to her, teasing her with his legendary rakish charm, yet she never seemed the least bit affected.

Perhaps that was why he was able to remain such close friends with Grace over the years. She never took his advances seriously, and he was able to tease, torment, and play to his heart’s content.

Yes, Grace never took him seriously, although a small part of his mind wondered what would happen if she did. In fact, a small part dared to hope for it, regardless of how he continued to silence the wild notion.

~~~~

Indeed Grace was not as unaffected as she seemed. Ewan was a constant reminder of everything she wanted but could never have. Ever since her little lie — rather, a large lie, which had caused him unforgivable punishment — she had written him off as a possible suitor. But that didn’t stop her heart from fluttering when he asked for a waltz at each gathering they both attended.

He had grown from the gangly eleven-year-old with too much confidence into a rake of the first order. It was widely known of his conquests, even from a young lad at Eton. If he even had the slightest idea that Grace dreamt of his wavy dark ebony hair, eyes the color of sapphire, and heart-stopping smile, he’d use it to his advantage, and she’d walk away ruined… in one way or another. So, to protect her heart and virtue, she reverted back into her eight-year-old attitudes, with the added benefit of an eighteen-year-old vocabulary.

Taking a silent breath and resisting the urge to lean closer as his head dropped down, she focused on the question and tried to come up with a witty reply. Her quick tongue had been her salvation in dealing with the notorious charm of the Duke of Greys.

“Ever since the summer you arrived to dinner clothed in a loincloth and a smile, I can’t seem to be afraid.” She looked at him in the eye, raising an eyebrow, and then allowed herself to be distracted from his handsome features by watching the swirling dancers. “I keep picturing that small boy with the scrawny legs whenever you smile at me, and I’m afraid, the mental image has stuck.”

She tossed her head back to look at Ewan full in the face. “It is exceedingly difficult to be afraid of you when
that
is what I remember.” She allowed her gaze to sweep him from head to foot and waited with a defiant glare.

~~~~

Ewan grinned down at Grace, unaffected by her attempt at humbling him.

“I looked quite dashing,” he stated.

“Dashing is exactly what you did. Too bad your attempted escape from your irate mother left you naked,” she quipped back.

“A delightful sight, if I do say so myself. You should consider yourself blessed. Many a woman would be eager for such an intimate view,” he remarked, impervious
t
o her attempt at injuring his considerable ego.

“Odd. I don’t remember being impressed.” Her eyebrow rose in sarcasm as she dismissed him once again with her eyes.

“I’m sure you would be now.” His head dipped lower as he spoke the words, and though Ewan knew he was imagining things, he thought he could feel her heart pound wildly in response to his words.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t be.” She spoke in low tones as she captured him with a direct gaze that eliminated the suspicions he had entertained only moments before.

Ewan paused, gazing down at Grace. Her golden hair was twisted into some sort of fashionable confection, but he never stopped seeing the girl with the braids whenever he looked at her. Oh yes, he had been irate when she bested him that Christmas, lying to her father and effectively sentencing him to the harshest punishment he’d had in years. But that she had even done it and bested him, the Duke of Greys!
That
he’d never forget.

Of all the women who simpered and cooed over him, fawning and throwing themselves, she never once had batted an eyelash or given him the ‘come hither’ stare. It annoyed him. She had bested him
and
she didn’t give him the time of day.

The only reason she even danced with him was because polite society demanded it. The first time he’d asked, he was sure she would turn him down. Oh, her eyes, the same color as her emerald earrings, had flashed fire. He had held his breath, half-hoping she’d give him a set down in the middle of the crowded room, and half-hoping she’d say yes and apply that passion to more worthy endeavors.

Shaking his head, he stopped the thought before it grew into more than it was worth. Grace would never consider a dalliance, not even a flirtation. No, he’d best think of her in the braids. Things would be much better that way.

“I knew your vocabulary wasn’t large, but I never thought you’d run out of intelligent conversation so quickly,” Grace remarked, arching her eyebrow.

Ewan pulled himself from his musings concerning Grace to offer her the reply he knew she was anticipating. “Ah, well, sadly, as we’ve discussed, I’m not usually sought out for my intelligent conversation, but for my… other… talents.”

He caressed her waist with his thumb and watched her narrow her eyes at his advances, trying to ignore the odd sensation in his chest as he tightened his hold on her.

“Ah, I’ll let you keep those
talents
to yourself,” Grace said coolly.

“Hmm, a waste on the likes of you.”

“I know I should be insulted, but I find that I’m not.” Grace spoke dryly.

“I could say the same,” Ewan challenged, expecting Grace’s offense to override her better judgment.

She replied simply, “You probably should.”

He was disappointed that she hadn’t taken the bait. “Touché.”

The waltz came to a close, and Ewan escorted Grace to the edge of the room and back to her mother’s side. He tried not to smile because her arm was stiff, radiating the hostility he’d come to expect and somehow appreciate.

He bowed to Grace’s mother with practiced elegance. “Lady Jarvais, a pleasure. You grow more beautiful each time I have the delight of seeing you.” Ewan leaned over to kiss the air above her hand.

“Well, Ewan, you are quite the flatterer, but please, continue.” Lady Jarvais leaned forward and playfully tapped Ewan with her fan.

Grace’s expression took on an exasperated grimace. It was no secret that Lady Jarvais adored him, much to Grace’s chagrin. He continued to banter with her mother, leaving Grace out of the conversation simply to irritate her. How he enjoyed it when her green eyes would narrow and the hostility rolled off her! Though he knew he was far too old for such childish impulses, he found he couldn’t help himself. He doubted Grace was truly resentful of his friendship with her family; he simply assumed it was because he’d often used it as a lad to worm his way out of trouble.

“Alas, your daughter doesn’t find my company nearly as charming as you do. I’m afraid I’ll never recover from her sharp tongue.” He tilted his head slightly and winked at Grace, causing her to narrow her eyes.

“Grace! Where are your manners? Why would you speak harshly to Ewan? Why, he’s one of your oldest friends.” Lady Jarvais gently scolded Grace, just as Ewan had hoped. The carefully contained fury on Grace’s face was worth the tongue-lashing he’d surely receive later.

~~~~

“Mother,” Grace started and then closed her eyes, collecting herself before she spoke without thinking. As she opened her eyes to reply, she turned her head and stopped, noticing the gentleman that had just entered the growing crowd.

Light blond hair and dark brown eyes focused on her, and he smiled, revealing straight white teeth. Tilting her head, Grace gave herself the luxury of taking in his dress, the sculpting breeches, high-collared crisp white shirt and honey-colored cravat. The gentleman gave her a small nod and started in her direction. A minor blush warmed her face at being caught at brazenly staring at a man. She tried to recover her dignity and offer up a smile at the grinning man.

~~~~

Ewan was shocked when Grace stopped her much anticipated reply. Resisting the temptation of waving his hand in front of her face, he turned slightly to see what she was gawking at.
Spencer Raleigh, Earl of Shiply
. Anyone but Shiply! But of course Grace would find his angelic looks enticing. Hadn’t scores of other debutantes believed the same? Eyeing Grace, he intended to set her straight but paused, noticing how she observed the gentleman from head to toe in a seductive fashion. Ewan doubted she even realized it.

I want her to look at me like that
, he thought, feeling the fire of jealousy burn in his gut as he realized that it wasn’t that Grace was immune to charm in general, she was simply immune to him. Disregarding the offensive thought, he focused on Shiply’s advance. He had to think fast. Shiply had targeted her and was sauntering over in an effort to secure an introduction.

“Greys! I thought I saw you,” Shiply said enthusiastically as he reached out to shake Ewan’s hand.

Trying to think of a way to keep him away from Grace, he paused, stalling for time. “Shiply, didn’t expect to see you here. In fact, I know of a gentleman who wanted to speak with you, if you’ll just…” He hoped Shiply would take the hint and leave, but Shiply waved him off and began another thread of conversation, one that led to Grace.

“Why would I miss this crush? And who may I ask is this English flower?” he asked, turning toward Grace, offering her a seductive smile that made Ewan cringe.

~~~~

His eyes held her captive, and Grace felt as though she had stopped breathing, she was so lightheaded. She marveled at how gentle he was when he reached out and grasped her hand before kissing the air above it. Though many gentlemen had done the same, his administration warmed her like hot tea after a cold walk through Hyde Park..

“Ah, yes, this is Lady Jarvais and her daughter, Lady Grace.” Ewan made the introductions, mumbling slightly. With a questioning glance, she waited for Ewan to offer up the stranger’s name.

When Ewan stared back stubbornly, challenging her with the slight squint of his eyes, she turned back to her new acquaintance. “You’ll have to excuse Lord Greys, he tends to mumble and forget his manners when he’s foxed.”

She cut a glance to Ewan and then turned back to the handsome gentleman. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir…” She waited for him to fill in the blank. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ewan stiffen before settling on an unamused smirk.

“Spencer Raleigh, Earl of Shiply, at your service,” he said with a smile, and he offered her a playful bow. His light hair brushed his brow as he leaned down, adding a boyish charm to the already handsome man.

~~~~

“Excuse me, but I am not ‘foxed’, as you put it,
Lady
Grace,” Ewan interrupted her conversation with Shiply. He tamped down the urge to get into fisticuffs with the flirting earl but barely. Why was Grace reacting in such a way? He disliked the emotions the arrival of Shiply had uncovered.

“My mistake,” she quipped, but never took her eyes off Shiply, which irritated Ewan even more.

“Care to dance, Lady Grace?” The honeyed words dripped from Shiply’s mouth, causing Ewan to fight a gag reflex. Some people had no class.

“I’d be delighted.” Grace’s smile lit up her face, and Ewan found himself unable to look away. She truly had grown into a beautiful young woman, though when this had occurred was unknown to him.

Her perfectly straight teeth flashed against full lips that reminded him of the crimson-colored sheets currently covering his bed. Aroused at the thought, he imagined her kiss, with those passionate green eyes closed in rapture. She bit her lower lip as she took Shiply’s hand. Ewan found himself licking his own lips, wondering how her kiss would taste.

Ewan mentally shook, pulling himself from his desirous thoughts, and focused on Grace’s retreating form. He stood scowling and watching the pair dance and flirt, his mood darkening by the second.

“Wipe that scowl from your face, Ewan. It’s not as if she’s never danced with anyone but you before,” Lady Jarvais chided, clicking her tongue.

Ewan started slightly. He had all but forgotten about her presence. He turned towards the dear woman and tried to act the unconcerned rogue. “Yes, well, he’s unsuitable. A rake, rogue… whatever you call the unsavory characters that prowl about, these days.” He lifted his hand in a dismissive gesture toward Shiply.

“Yes, and you yourself are nothing of the sort?” she asked as her eyebrows rose.

He understood his hypocrisy as she gave him a disbelieving look. No. He wasn’t any better. However,
he
wasn’t the one trying to woo Grace, attempting to seduce her to his bed, make love to her until the far reaches of the morning…

What am I thinking?
His mind spun out of control imagining Grace in all those situations with him. The air was warmer, so he pulled on his collar. Then he also fought the urge to loosen his cravat.

His eyes never left her twirling body, and he physically responded to her curves. Cursing, he looked away, willing his body to calm and forbidding his mind to think of her tempting body pressed against his. As he searched for a distraction, he noticed Lady Jarvais watching him with a curious expression on her face before it lit up in an understanding smile.

“You’re jealous.” She spoke the words with awe. She looked thrilled.

Ewan felt his stomach drop. No, he couldn’t be jealous. Could he? But admitting she was correct would require him to acknowledge all the twisting emotions within his gut, and he refused to do that.

No, he was not jealous. Annoyed, certainly. Straightening his collar, he faced Lady Jarvais. “I am nothing of the sort.”

Glancing back at the dance floor, he saw Grace give Shiply a flirtatious smile. His insides burned with a hot rage. Perhaps he was jealous, although he would never admit it out loud. Ever.

“You are so. It’s written across your face, clear as day,” Lady Jarvais remarked, still marveling. “You know, I saw this coming,” she added with an arrogant grin full of trouble. The way she tilted her chin reminded him of Grace.

“You most certainly did not, because it is not happening. I’m not jealous!” He glanced up and muttered, “Especially of that arrogant cad, Shiply.”After a moment he added, “Lady Grace has far more sense than to fall for the likes of that sort.” He huffed, hoping he sounded more convincing than he felt.

“Ah, and you’d be far better for her than Shiply.” Lady Jarvais’s green eyes twinkled as she challenged his claim.

“Of course. Anyone would,” he replied with little patience. Hadn’t he already said as much?

“Good. Then I trust you to make sure she’ll be safe.” She watched him expectantly.

“Excuse me?” He looked at her as if she had lost all sense. What could she mean? As an available gentleman, he couldn’t act as chaperon, nor would he want to, but Lady Jarvais knew that. Trepidation seeped into his chest as he watched Lady Jarvais grin.

“Yes, Lord Jarvais is gone for business on our country estate in Sussex. He won’t be back until a week before the Kringle Ball. Her brothers are all busy with their own families. There are only us two who can look out for poor Lady Grace.”

With a touch of her fan on his shoulder, she continued, “I won’t be able to be everywhere at once, so I’m enlisting your help. As a longtime family friend who has Lady Grace’s best interests at heart, I trust you to make sure she is safe from this unsavory
Shiply
character.” She said ‘Shiply’ with mock terror as she widened her grin, not enough to mock him openly, but enough to issue a challenge — a challenge he was sure to take on, regardless of how his head told him to walk away.

Ewan watched Lady Jarvais’s face, trying to determine if she was in earnest or if she was trying to ferret out a reaction to affirm her suspicions. Could she be serious? Keep an eye on Grace? Although it wouldn’t be difficult — he had always kept an eye on her — the thought of deliberately watching her flirt with Shiply, or anyone else for that matter, set his stomach on edge. However, if his present state of emotional upheaval remained constant, he would find himself watching her, regardless. He might as well have a good reason for his actions.

Better to live in denial for a bit longer, he decided.

“Fine, I’ll help. But don’t expect me to be gentle about it. She’s far too headstrong for her own good. And you…” he glared at her, knowing it would fall short, “must tell her that I am responsible for her as well, so she won’t fight my help or interference should it be required.” Ewan nodded and folded his arms across his chest, causing the fabric of his evening coat to tense across his shoulders.

Hearing a collective feminine sigh, he looked over to see a few older widows tracing his body with their eyes, clearly giving their imaginations free rein. Ewan favored them with a wink and suppressed a laugh when the eldest tossed him a wink in return. He turned away before he invited more trouble than he needed and returned his attention to Lady Jarvais. She cast a glance heavenward before she gave him an impatient look that told him she had seen his antics and was unimpressed.

“La, of course, dear. I’ll take care of it,” she cooed as she walked away without a care, leaving a brooding Ewan behind.

He was losing his touch. Two women in one evening, and neither had been affected in the least by his famous stare-down. He’d have to practice, especially if he was to be protecting Grace from a possible seduction by Shiply.

At least now he could easily explain his intervention with Grace’s affairs. Perhaps the sudden onslaught of bedroom fantasies where Grace was concerned would subside. Odd for them to start; he’d never had this problem before. What was it? He had never been the jealous sort.

After adjusting his collar once more, he nodded to Lady Jarvais, who had paused and was watching him. He took his leave, picking a spot from which he could watch Grace the rest of the evening, trying not to wonder what she would look like wearing nothing but that delicious smile.