That Despicable Rogue Page 7

  And pleasant. She was such a pretty thing—if you ignored her belligerent personality—and he had not engaged in anything more than a little mild flirting in weeks. Maybe he should have a little fun at her expense? It might teach the wench a lesson.

  As soon as the thought took hold Ross could not stop it. He stalked over to the brandy decanter that stood on a little side table near his bed and poured some of the amber liquid into his hands. Then he patted it liberally around his neck like cologne. If she thought him a drunk then he might as well be one.

  He quickly pulled off his shirt and mussed his hair with his fingers. She would certainly disapprove of the sight of his bare chest as well. She had before—although she had also had a good look, he remembered with satisfaction. Prim had liked the sight of him half naked.

  A quick check of his reflection in the mirror made him smile. He looked positively rogue-like and totally disreputable. Even his head was not giving him as much grief now that it was occupied with something else. Poor old Prim was in for a bit of a shock.

  * * *

  Hannah balanced the tea tray on one hand and knocked quietly on his bedroom door. With any luck he had already fallen fast asleep.

  ‘Come in.’

  His deep voice sounded a little muffled, and as soon as she gingerly opened the door she could see why. He was face-down on his bed, bare arms flung carelessly above his head on the pillow.

  ‘I have your tea, Mr Jameson.’ She deposited the tray on the table smartly and turned to leave.

  ‘Could you pour me a cup, Prim, and bring it here?’

  He did not even raise his head from the pillow, so she doubted he would actually even drink it. Hannah rolled her eyes in annoyance and stalked back to the tray. Not caring whether or not it bothered him, she noisily poured him a cup of tea, heaped in three sugars and stirred it furiously before plonking it unceremoniously on the bedside table.

  ‘Your tea, sir,’ she said snippily, but before she could walk away he rolled over and grabbed her arm.

  ‘Why don’t you like me, Prim?’ he slurred as he rose to a sitting position.

  The dim candlelight made his bare skin glow golden and emphasised the powerful corded muscles in his arms and across his broad shoulders.

  ‘It is not my place to either like or dislike you, sir,’ she replied carefully, while trying to extricate her wrist from his firm hold and not look at his distracting body.

  Up close, she could see the dark stubble on his chin. She should have found it unappealing—further evidence of his dissipation—but bizarrely it suited him. Hannah started to feel a little warm and off-kilter when she should have been outraged.

  He laughed with drunken derision and leaned a little closer towards her, as if about to impart some great secret. ‘Come now, Prim, we both know that you are lying—although I have to say you are quite dreadful at it. If you did not dislike me so intently then you would be much...friendlier.’

  His dark gaze held hers. There was no mistaking his meaning, especially when his thumb began to caress the sensitive skin on the underside of her trapped wrist—something that made the nerve-endings in her arm tingle with awareness. She forced her mind to be angry. The wretch was flirting with her. Shamelessly. Even drunk he was trying to manipulate her own body into betraying her.

  ‘If that is all, sir, then I should like to retire. It is very late and I must get up early in the morning to attend to my duties.’

  Unfortunately her request fell on deaf ears, although why she had expected anything else she did not know. The gentle rhythm of his thumb circling that small patch of her skin was having an odd effect on her. It had been so long since anybody had intentionally touched her that she was keenly aware of every movement. She could feel her heart fluttering, and her flesh begin to tingle in a most unwelcome way.

  The knowing stare he gave her through half-hooded eyes did make her feel a tad nervous. It was as if he was fully aware of the effect his ministrations were having on her.

  ‘Come now, Prim. As your employer I am more than happy to allow you to sleep in, should you need to. I do believe that you might have other duties to attend to tonight that are far more pressing.’

  Hannah could not quite believe her ears, even though her pulse quickened at the suggestion. Had he really just made completely improper and outrageous advances towards her?

  She stiffened her spine in outrage and roughly snatched her wrist away. ‘How dare you? You are drunk, sir. This is not the way a gentleman behaves towards a member of his household.’

  She swiftly spun round and marched to the door in righteous indignation. She did not care if her words did threaten to compromise her employment here. In fact she did not care if he dismissed her on the spot—she would not allow him to treat her as if she were some lightskirt. Even if society believed that about her she would never demean herself by allowing another man to treat her that way.

  As soon as she got to the door he was behind her. ‘Not so fast, Prim,’ he whispered, close to the back of her head, planting his arms upon the wood on either side of her, preventing her from leaving.

  Despite the drink he was unbelievably swift and light on his feet. She had not even heard him rise from the bed, let alone dash across the floor of his bedchamber. That made her feel even more nervous and exposed. Even in the state he was in he was a force to be reckoned with.

  She turned in the confines of his arms and folded her own arms across her chest in defiance. It would not do to let him see that she was rattled. ‘What do you intend to do, sir? Keep me here against my will? Force yourself upon me?’

  Her chin lifted as she stared up at him. Goodness, he was tall—and imposing at such close quarters. Her eyes barely came level with his chin. And he smelled so...masculine.

  A low, intimate chuckle emanated from somewhere deep in his chest and resonated through her body. ‘Dear Prim, I can assure you that I have never, ever had to force myself upon a woman. They all come quite willingly, in my experience—so your precious virtue is quite safe. I merely want a proper answer to my question. Why do you dislike me so very much?’

  He was so close to her that she could feel his warm breath brush across her face. The unmistakable smell of brandy was surprisingly faint, but the heady aroma of bay and spice from his cologne was more prominent—and far from unpleasant.

  ‘I don’t dislike you,’ she finally said cautiously, and then realised that those words were not so very far from the truth. She wanted to dislike him. She was desperately trying to find the evidence to do so. ‘I disapprove of the great majority of your morals and behaviour.’

  ‘Give me examples,’ he whispered, quite lucidly, and he stared covetously at her mouth in a way that made her lips warm with awareness. ‘What do I do, specifically, that you so thoroughly disapprove of?’

  Hannah involuntarily licked her lips and saw his expression turn a little smug as she did so. He knew she was not completely immune to his charms, the devil, and he leaned a little closer in an attempt to fluster her further. Their faces were inches apart and his braced arms still formed a cage around her.

  ‘I disapprove of your shameless flirting!’ she spat, and positively glared at him. ‘And I disapprove of your drinking, gambling and whor...’

  Hannah allowed her angry outburst to trail off, too embarrassed to accuse him of whoring as well. Oh, how she hated that word.

  ‘Most gentleman drink, gamble and fraternise with women, Prim. I am not unique in that respect.’

  He lifted one finger and used it to loosen a tendril of hair at the side of her face. When it refused to budge from her severe coiffure he plucked out the hairpin that prevented it and smiled as the curl bounced to her jaw. Lazily, and to her great consternation, he wound it around his index finger possessively. It felt wonderful.

  ‘You are no gentleman, sir. That fact is well reported.’ It was a spiteful thing to say, but the truth none the less. She needed him to give her space. His close proximity was scattering her wits
.

  Unfortunately her insult amused him more than it offended. ‘I have never claimed to be a gentleman, Prim. And you are right. That fact has been widely reported—you do seem to love the gossip columns, don’t you? But the newspapers do not know the half of it. My background is far worse than even they realise. I am the son of a forger and a tavern maid. There is not a single drop of aristocratic blood in my common veins. We lived in one room next to a brothel when we could afford it. Once or twice we slept on the streets. Do not let my ruthlessly trained accent fool you. I come from the gutter, Prim. That is certainly not the background of a gentleman. Why on earth would you expect me to behave like a one?’

  His tone was reasonable, as if she were expecting the impossible.

  ‘I expect it, sir, because you pretend to be one. You rub shoulders with them, dress like one of them—that is when you can be bothered to put on a coat—and now you live like one. As owner of this house you should at least attempt to act like one.’

  At some point during her lecture she had begun to point her finger into the solid wall of his ribcage.

  ‘And what about you, madam?’ he replied as he simultaneously removed her accusing finger from his breastbone and laced his own through her wayward hand.

  The motion seemed to make their position even more intimate—if such a thing were possible when they already stood touching from chest to thigh.

  ‘You have such great expectations of me but make no effort to comport yourself properly. A good servant, I am told, should be seen and not heard. You throw around your lofty opinions as if you have a right to be so high and mighty. Get off your high horse, Prim. Need I remind you that you are no lady either?’

  Hannah bristled at that charge, because it had been said before—and worse. ‘I am more of a lady than you will ever be a gentleman! At least I have enough decency to know that it is quite wrong to make advances to the staff.’

  He had the audacity to smirk. ‘Stop acting so shocked. A woman as lovely as you should be used to the improper advances of men. And I suspect that you are not truly as prim and proper as you would have me believe. In fact, I believe all the little lies you have told me are only the tip of the iceberg. You have already been caught out in one deception. I wonder what other rebellious traits you hide under that sensible, drab dress?’

  Something about the way his eyes devoured her after those words made her blush involuntarily, as if he could see through the fabric of the garment. Goosebumps sprang up all over her body at the thought, and the urge to get away doubled, but he was not finished.

  ‘Perhaps I should keep a very close eye on you—just to check that you are not up to no good. Would you like that, Prim?’ One hand curled around her waist possessively, then made a slow journey down the curve of her hip.

  Hannah had never been handled so...so intimately. The twin emotions of outrage and excitement at being desired by this shameless man warred within her. How long had it been since any man had looked at her with anything other than disgust? How many times had she dreamed about such things in her lonely bed? Of a faceless saviour who would want her regardless? A man who would love her regardless?

  His eyes held such forbidden promise...

  Common sense won out. ‘You are drunk, sir, and will no doubt regret this behaviour tomorrow. Now, unhand me if you please.’ Again she stared defiantly at him, ignoring the fierce attraction she felt.

  For the merest second he paused, and then he grinned wickedly. ‘As you have quite rightly pointed out, Prim, I am no gentleman.’

  Before she fully understood his intent, his dark head had dipped and his mouth fastened on hers boldly and feasted.

  Her initial response was to flatten her hands against his chest in order to push him away. She clamped her lips firmly shut at the impertinent onslaught. But then her rebellious body rejoiced at the contact. His mouth moved sensually over hers with such skill and tenderness that she forgot her outrage and began to soften against him and her own better judgement. It had been so many years since anybody had stolen a kiss from her that she had forgotten quite how pleasant it could be.

  This kiss was more than simply pleasant, though. It lit a fire within her that she had not known existed, and for a few moments she let it to burn unchecked, allowed herself simply to feel rather than think. Oh, how she had yearned for someone to want her again. It felt so very, very good.

  In a second she would stop this silly experiment. She was overcome, that was all, and surprised to have been kissed. Nothing more.

  But one second turned to two, then two turned to five.

  Under her splayed hands she felt his heartbeat, sure and steady under the warm, silky skin of his chest. It felt decadent to touch a man like that, and without knowing it her fingers began to feel the shape of the muscles and ribs under her palms. When one of his hands gently cupped the side of her face she forgot that she hated him and kissed him back. Just once. Just because it felt so wonderful.

  It was all the encouragement he needed. He trailed hot kisses down her cheek until he reached the place where her jaw met her neck. Then he used his teeth and tongue to nuzzle the tender pulse that beat there, before nipping and licking his way back to her ready mouth.

  When he kissed her again she welcomed it like a starving man welcomed food, and moaned when his tongue tasted her mouth in the most scandalous joining of lips she had ever experienced. Her fiancé had never kissed her like this. And still she allowed him liberties with her person, let the passion build inside her. It made the tips of her breasts throb, and a dull ache began to form deep between her legs. Her breathing became unsteady. Uneven.

  The powerful sensations and her needy reaction to them made her panic, and that emotion brought her crashing back to reality with a thud. She was kissing the man who had stolen her home and pushed her brother to suicide. What the hell was she thinking?

  That, she realised with a jolt of disgust, was the problem. She had not been thinking at all. Only feeling.

  With one decisive push she broke the contact and slipped out from under his arms, more than a little dazed and confused. To be fair, judging by the way his breathing was also laboured, he appeared as shocked as she by how quickly their brief kiss had turned to sheer carnal desire.

  He stared at her dumbly for several moments, with a startled expression on his face. Then he finally stepped away from the door with a gloating smirk and folded his arms across his annoyingly distracting bare chest.

  ‘As I suspected,’ he drawled. ‘Not as prim and proper as you would have me believe. And, despite your disapproval, you are clearly not as averse to me as you pretend to be either. I know that you thoroughly enjoyed what I just did—didn’t you, Prim?’

  ‘You flatter yourself,’ she hissed, ashamed that he was correct, and grabbed the door handle forcefully.

  After wrenching it open she turned and fled to her own bedroom, not caring that he could clearly see that she was running as fast as she could to get away—both from him and the inconvenient passion that had bubbled so unexpectedly between them.

  When she got to her room she bolted the door—just in case. He had been right—damn him—she had thoroughly enjoyed what he had just done to her.

  And that would not do at all.

  Chapter Seven

  Hannah spent the entire morning worrying. Fortunately nobody else was aware of the outrageously improper kiss they had shared last night. Just thinking about it made her blush to the tips of her toes. It had not been her finest moment. One minute she had been happily disgusted at his behaviour, and the next she had been swept away in the throes of unwanted passion. Clearly she had been too deprived of male contact in the last few years if her traitorous body could respond with such uncharacteristic fervour.

  He had taken advantage of her, she reasoned self-righteously. If she had not been taken so completely by surprise she would have slapped him for his impertinence and admonished him for abusing his position. Surely?

  That was the problem
, however. In the cold light of day Hannah knew that the only reason she had ended the kiss was out of fear. Her intense, needy reaction to Jameson had frightened her, and all she’d been able to do in response was flee. Worse, all night she had not been able to forget about how glorious it had felt. Her mind kept flitting back and remembering the unfamiliar sensations he had elicited.

  He had been deliciously solid under her fingers. Her body had rejoiced at the pleasure of being held in his arms, and her lips had tingled with need hours afterwards. Even now her body craved more of the same, and appeared to be oblivious to the stark warnings from her head. She had been positively wanton—after accusing him of living his life in pursuit of carnal pleasure. How on earth was she ever going to face the man again without dying from embarrassment?

  Feeling very silly, Hannah had hidden away upstairs, instructing Reggie and a particularly timid footman on which pieces of furniture needed consigning to the attic. Worn down by Reggie’s complaining, she had finally relented and broken for tea. Now the pair of them were sitting around the kitchen table, cooling off.

  ‘Can I ask you a personal question, Reggie?’ she said carefully as she sipped the cold lemonade Cook had pressed into her hand.

  ‘Ask away, mum,’ he replied cheerfully, through a mouthful of bread and cheese. It was quite staggering the amount of food he could consume in a single day.

  ‘Mr Jameson told me that he inherited you when he bought a building. Is that true?’

  Reggie laughed and sent a fine spray of crumbs shooting across the table. ‘Sort of, I suppose. He does have a funny way of explaining things. Ross bought out a warehouse at the docks—lock, stock and barrel—and as I lived there he said I could stay. Been with him ever since.’

  ‘You lived in a warehouse?’ Such a prospect sounded terrible. ‘Why did you live in a warehouse?’