When a Rogue Meets His Match Read online

With that he pivoted and walked from the room.

  Quintus looked exasperated, then glared at Gideon. “We plan to stay in town. If you do anything to harm either of my sisters, we’ll know about it—and you’ll pay.”

  “I tremble in my boots.” Gideon’s lips curved mockingly, belying his words. “However, I have no intention of hurting either Messalina or Lucretia. They’re under my protection.”

  Quintus scoffed at that, but he strode to where Messalina and Lucretia sat and pulled them up one after the other and swept them into a bear hug.

  Messalina closed her eyes. Even with the sour scent of old liquor about his person, Quintus’s broad shoulders had always been comforting.

  “Tomorrow morn I’ll send the direction of the inn we’ll stay in,” he murmured before drawing back so he could pin them with his glare. “If anything—anything at all—makes you uncomfortable here, I want you to come to us at once. Barring that, send a letter. Do you understand?”

  Messalina nodded. She was certain now that she’d have no need of such help, but she might as well put Quintus’s mind at ease.

  “Yes,” Lucretia answered him solemnly.

  “Good.” With one last piercing glance he strode after Julian.

  “Well,” Messalina said, and then she had nothing to add.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve anything to sup on,” Lucretia asked gloomily.

  “Actually, we do,” Gideon answered her.

  “We do?” Messalina asked in surprise.

  “Hicks has been practicing.” He shot her a devilish grin before going to the door and calling, “Reggie!”

  After a second the big man appeared. “Aye, guv?”

  “Tell Pea to bring in the supper.”

  “Right you are.”

  Five minutes later Pea and Reggie brought in a bowl of apples, some cheese, bread and butter, and a roast chicken—only slightly burned.

  Messalina clapped her hands. “Oh, he is improved.”

  Lucretia glanced from her to the blackened bird. “This is improved?”

  Gideon ignored her incredulity. “Good lad,” he muttered to Pea as the youth filled a glass of wine and handed it to Gideon. “Make sure to compliment our cook.”

  A wide grin broke across Pea’s face before he hastily brought his expression back under control.

  Messalina tilted her head. Odd. She hadn’t noticed before how Gideon’s men seemed to almost worship him.

  “The apples look nice at least,” Lucretia murmured, distracting her. She was seated next to Messalina, with Gideon sitting across from them.

  Pea and Reggie left as Gideon began carving the chicken.

  “Thank you,” Lucretia said, accepting her plate from Gideon. “I suppose you still do my uncle’s dirty work?”

  Messalina nearly choked on her wine.

  Gideon, though, seemed unperturbed, continuing to carve the chicken. “Yes, I do.”

  He handed a plate to Messalina.

  “Isn’t that rather awkward?” Lucretia asked with feigned concern.

  “No more than it ever has been,” Gideon replied.

  “Ah, I forget,” Lucretia said sweetly. “You’ve worked for my uncle since you were a youth. He found you in St Giles, didn’t he? Rather like a stray cur.”

  “Lucretia,” Messalina hissed, mortified. She tried to kick her sister under the table and missed when Lucretia deftly moved her leg.

  “Oh, exactly like a stray cur,” Gideon said very softly. “He found me in a back alley fighting a man twice my size with a knife.” He sipped his wine before carefully replacing his glass on the table. “I won. No doubt that’s why he decided to hire me at once—he wanted a savage. Someone without morals or remorse to do the things an aristocrat couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do.”

  Messalina stared. Was that how Gideon saw himself? As someone beyond the bounds of humanity?

  There was a clatter of silverware from Lucretia. “Our uncle is a beast. He’s the savage.”

  And Messalina remembered again why she loved her sister so much.

  But Gideon looked thoughtful. “Perhaps we’re both savages.”

  Lucretia stared at him as she slowly took a sip of her wine, her eyes narrowing. “For your sake I hope not.”

  * * *

  Gideon studied Messalina from beneath his eyelashes as he sipped his wine. She looked embarrassed by Lucretia’s veiled threat, but not displeased, which made sense.

  They were closer than most sisters.

  He’d watched them when he’d first come to Windemere’s house. Seen how they sat together, so close they were almost on top of one another. Sometimes Lucretia laid her head on Messalina’s shoulder.

  He’d seen also how both girls would straighten when the duke entered a room. Draw apart, their expressions blanking until it was impossible to tell how they felt.

  They’d been each other’s shield and protection against Windemere.

  He needed to win Lucretia’s favor in order to win Messalina’s.

  Gideon turned to Lucretia. “Do you have everything you’ll need to stay the night?”

  Lucretia nodded as she buttered a piece of bread. “I think so, but I can borrow from Messalina if not.” She looked up at her sister, her brow wrinkling. “Have you brought all your things from Windemere House?”

  “Yes,” Messalina said. “Tomorrow we can send for your clothes and such.”

  Lucretia raised her eyes. “Shouldn’t I go to make sure everything is packed?”

  “No,” Messalina said overloudly. “That is, I think it best that you stay here, darling.”

  “I’ll go,” Gideon said.

  Both women looked at him in surprise.

  Gideon spread his hands. “Don’t you trust me?”

  “No,” Lucretia promptly replied.

  Messalina seemed conflicted. “Erm…”

  Her hesitation shouldn’t hurt. He’d hardly done much to make her trust him. More, he intended to betray her.

  He intended to murder her brother.

  The thought gave him pause. How would she look when the news that Julian Greycourt was dead reached her? Would she weep?

  Would she suspect that it was he who was the assassin?

  Lucretia interrupted his dark thoughts. “Why would you want to help me at all?”

  Gideon raised his eyebrows. “You are my sister-in-law now.”

  Lucretia picked up an apple and for a moment looked as if she wanted to throw it at Gideon’s head. “That was hardly my choice—or my sister’s.”

  “Perhaps I’m a nice man.”

  Lucretia snorted in a very unladylike way as she began to peel the apple. “No. You are not. You have some dark reason to offer, I know.”

  Gideon smiled with gritted teeth. “Perhaps my dark reason is a desire to enjoy your lovely company at every supper.”

  Messalina made a choking noise.

  His gaze swung to her, and he saw her eyes were filled with mirth as if she were just barely holding back giggles. Strange. Her eyes were the same shade of gray as her brothers’ and her sister’s, but somehow they were completely different. For a moment he lost himself, contemplating their depths, their beauty. Messalina’s eyes were ever changing, betraying her emotion while the rest of her face often remained stoic. He might spend the rest of his life studying them.

  Messalina’s cheeks were turning a deeper pink even as he watched her. “Perhaps you simply wish to be done with this conversation.”

  His voice when he replied was husky. “Perhaps I do it for you.”

  Those eyes widened, her rose-red lips parting in innocent invitation.

  It was all Gideon could do to stifle a groan.

  “Well!” Lucretia said loudly—Messalina actually started. “I don’t suppose there’s any dessert? An entire week with Julian and Quinn and not a tart or syllabub in sight. You would not believe the awful inn we stopped in last night. We were served a dinner of cabbage soup with bits of gristle and a wine which I swear had turned to vinega
r. And the bed!” Lucretia shuddered. “I don’t think the linens had been changed this year. I spent the night in a chair before the fire.”

  She ended this rant by biting aggressively into a slice of apple.

  “I’m so sorry you had to endure such privations,” Messalina said gravely. “And I’ll be sure to have dessert for tomorrow’s supper.”

  Lucretia sniffed. “See that you do.”

  Her tone was light and bantering, but her gaze was still suspicious when she glanced at Gideon.

  He sighed. It would take more than one meal to win Lucretia to his side. He’d need many, many meals to make the little termagant stop glaring at him as if he enjoyed maiming kittens.

  Then Messalina looked at him with dancing gray eyes, her mouth pursed sweetly to keep from laughing.

  She was worth all the trouble in the world.

  * * *

  “That will be all, thank you, Bartlett,” Messalina murmured later that night. She sat at her dressing table, stroking a sleeping Daisy as the maid moved around the room and Gideon sat before the fire. He fingered a glass of wine and seemed rather strained. Perhaps the fight with her brothers bothered him more than she had realized.

  “Shall I summon Sam to take the dog?” Bartlett asked, straightening from the chest of drawers.

  Messalina started and turned to look at the lady’s maid.

  Bartlett’s return gaze was knowing.

  Messalina cleared her throat and tried to seem properly sedate. “Yes. Please call Sam.”

  She glanced through her lashes at Gideon, only to find him watching her. Lit by the flickering fire he looked particularly demonic tonight.

  Which she didn’t find seductive at all.

  Bartlett peeked out of the room and called, “Sam!”

  The boy must’ve been very close, for he was in the room in seconds. “Ma’am?”

  Messalina smiled down at him. “I think Daisy is ready for bed. Mind you take him into the garden before you put him in his basket by the kitchen fire.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Sam was entirely earnest. He obviously took his job seriously. He cradled the puppy carefully as he left.

  Bartlett stood by the door. “I’ll just see to Miss Lucretia, shall I?”

  “If you please.”

  Bartlett nodded and quietly closed the door.

  Which, of course, left Messalina alone with Gideon in the bedroom.

  She took a breath. He’d not slept with her the past couple of nights. Perhaps he’d leave.

  She glanced at him as she fiddled with the ties to her wrapper.

  Gideon was taking off his waistcoat, his coat and neckcloth already removed.

  Perhaps not.

  She stared as the waistcoat was tossed to a chair.

  He wore only shirtsleeves and breeches now.

  The white linen provided a contrast to the darker skin at the top of the parted shirt. As she watched he refilled his wineglass from the decanter on the table and took a sip, tipping his head back.

  She saw his throat work and something within her heated.

  She looked away and met her own reflection in the mirror over the dressing table. Her cheeks were pink, her lips wet, and her eyes were a little wild.

  She inhaled. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” Gideon asked from behind her. She met his eyes in the mirror as he strolled closer with two glasses of wine in his hands.

  Her mouth twisted into a rueful smile. “For bearing with my brothers—and Lucretia’s conversation during dinner.”

  Gideon’s gaze slid away from hers. “They’re family. You can’t control what your family does or believes, and besides. They were right.”

  Messalina turned in her chair to face him. He was so close her knees bumped his legs. “You think so?”

  “Yes.” His lips quirked, drawing her eye. They were curved, one side drawn up in a wickedly sensuous smile. “Your brothers seek only to protect you, and your sister is rightfully wary of me.”

  He handed her the second glass of wine.

  She absently took it and sipped. The fruity taste spreading warmth through her.

  She asked, “You’re not angry that I sent Lucretia to bring Julian and Quinn here?”

  He snorted. “I would’ve been surprised if you hadn’t found some way to send for reinforcements.”

  Messalina bit her lip, thinking almost guiltily about her letter to Freya. She still hadn’t received a reply, which made her think that her letter had gone astray somehow. Or perhaps she was impatient and the reply just hadn’t had time to arrive.

  “Messalina?” His dark voice broke into her thoughts.

  She looked up. Gideon had leaned his hip against her dressing table and was studying her with a slight line between his brows.

  He stood nearly between her legs.

  She whispered, “Yes?”

  “I…” His expression was serious. “I’m not angry with you, you understand? I’ve always considered you a worthy opponent.” He grimaced. “That’s not quite the word I want, but I think you know what I mean. I admire your intelligence. Your stubbornness.”

  “Thank you,” she said gravely, though a part of her was vastly amused by such an awkward compliment, however heartfelt it might be.

  He shook his head. “You’re mocking me now.”

  “Only a little,” she replied, taking another sip of her wine for fortitude. “Perhaps we’re past the point of being opponents?”

  That devastating half smile played around his lips again. “Shall I press for a truce?”

  Her nipples were tight and pointed, stabbing at the cloth covering them. Could he see? “On what terms?”

  “Oh, I think the terms should come from you,” he murmured, his voice deepening.

  She took a breath and wondered when the air had left the room. “Then I ask that you refrain from killing my brothers and be very, very patient with my sister.”

  His smile seemed to drop for a moment, but perhaps that was her imagination, for in another blink it was as roguish as ever.

  “You bargain hard, madam,” he whispered roughly, “but I am sure I can abide by those stipulations.”

  “And if I have one more?” she asked, searching the depths of those black eyes.

  “I suppose that depends on what it is,” he replied softly, leaning closer.

  She bit her lip and his gaze fell to her mouth. “You will take me to the theater at least twice a month.”

  Any other man in her experience, caught in a moment of flirtation, would’ve turned surly at her mild suggestion. But somehow Gideon’s sharp black eyes softened. “Of course. If it would amuse you.”

  Actually, she wanted to return to the theater with him so that he might be amused.

  Her smile was private.

  “But,” he continued as he knelt between her spread legs, “I find I have terms as well.”

  He was so close, his hard chest brushing against her soft breasts.

  She swallowed.

  “Do you?” She held his gaze, though her heart had begun to beat faster.

  He nodded. “Just one.”

  She found herself leaning closer to him, his breath caressing her lips. “What?”

  “A kiss.”

  He barely waited for her nod and then his mouth was on hers, commanding and wild. He groaned, deep and loud in the silence of the room, and took her face in his hands, thrusting his tongue into her mouth.

  She could taste the wine, and she suckled him as if to appease him. She was trembling. How could he make her feel this way? As if she was no longer in control of her own body?

  As if she needed something more.

  She broke the kiss, gasping, leaning her forehead against his.

  “Can you,” she said, her voice shockingly raspy. “Can you take off your shirt?”

  He stilled, and for a moment she thought she’d gone too far. That her desire to see his skin—his naked skin—was a bedroom faux pas of some sort.

  She drew back a
nd saw that he was staring at her with something like triumph.

  He began to unbutton the placket of his shirt, and her gaze dropped to watch, her breath coming fast. He was so close that his knuckles brushed her breasts with every move.

  She was wet there in that place between her thighs.

  The neck of his shirt parted to reveal black, curling hairs. He came to the end of the buttons and reached behind his back to pull the shirt off.

  The farthing on the chain around his neck swung forward.

  She caught it in her hand, momentarily distracted. The metal skin-warm. Britannia was so worn, her head had nearly disappeared. A hole had been carefully drilled at the upper edge for the chain.

  She looked up. “Why do you wear this?”

  He began unbuttoning his breeches, there before her. “No reason.”

  He must have a reason, surely? And if so, why wouldn’t he tell her?

  As she pondered, he pulled the coin from her hand. Then he shucked off breeches, stockings, and shoes.

  She caught her breath.

  Gideon was wearing only his white linen smalls now, standing proudly, almost arrogantly. His penis and bollocks hung heavy against the thin cloth.

  As she helplessly watched, a tiny dot of moisture marked the cloth. She pulled her gaze from the spot and looked up at him.

  He watched her as if challenging her.

  She could end this now. Stop whatever was forming between them and simply go to sleep.

  Or she could take her courage and plunge—into a real marriage—a real connection—with Gideon.

  A part of her called Too soon! Too soon, but she ignored it. She wanted this.

  Messalina rose slowly before him.

  His eyes glinted as he watched her.

  She took a deep breath and untied the bow at her throat. She felt as if she were revealing much more than her body.

  The wrapper fell to the ground.

  She stood trembling a moment in her sheer chemise before she licked her lips and turned to the bed. “Are you coming?”

  He caught her wrist as she reached the bed, spinning her around. His mouth claimed hers as if he could no longer hold himself back. As if he’d held on to his restraint by the tips of his fingers.

  He angled his head, opening his mouth over hers, almost desperately thrusting his tongue past her lips, his fingers splayed against her cheek all the while.