Chapter Fourteen
I have come to realize my strategy is flawed. Seduction and passion may not lead to love after all. Deeper emotions must be involved for the heart to become engaged.
—Roslyn to Fanny
Roslyn felt her breath catch at the startling admission. “Sir Rupert’s son, Winifred?”
Wincing, Winifred nodded. “I hoped it wasn’t true, but there seems to be no other explanation. I didn’t wish to speak of it in front of the others, though. It distresses me to have the world know about my late husband’s shameful affair.”
“Why don’t you sit down, Winifred?”
“Yes, perhaps I should.”
When she sank heavily onto a sofa, Roslyn sat beside her and took her hand. “Now tell us why you think the thief is Sir Rupert’s son,” she urged gently.
“I recognized the resemblance when he ran past me the other day. He’s the spitting image of Rupert—both his features and his hair. Rupert’s hair was that ginger color before it started turning gray.”
“But the thief could be related to him in some other fashion.”
“Mayhap, but I don’t believe so,” Winifred replied, her tone taking on a stubborn edge.
Drew broke in. “I’m curious, my lady. Why did you wait to mention your suspicions until tonight?”
Winifred looked down at her hands. “To be honest, I was ashamed. And the news of your betrothal was so exciting, the thief went entirely out of my mind.” She glanced back up at Roslyn. “I didn’t want to spoil your happiness, dear, by making you dwell on my troubles.”
“But this is not only your trouble, Winifred. His grace and I are deeply involved.”
“And I regret that, truly.”
“Why don’t you let us be the judge? Tell us what you know.”
“I will have to explain about my marriage to Rupert so you will understand.” Haltingly then, Winifred began to tell the tale. “When Rupert met me, he was nearly penniless, while my father was one of the richest merchants in England. Our union was strictly a business arrangement. Papa…bought a baronet for me, so his only daughter could become a lady and move up in the world and have the advantages he was never able to have. Rupert was willing enough, however. He contracted with Papa for my hand, exchanging his title for the security of having a rich wife. But he didn’t receive my fortune outright, just an enormous settlement.”
“That is unusual, isn’t it?” Roslyn asked.
“Yes, but that was the only way Papa would agree to the union. He tied up my inheritance in trust to protect me and any eventual children I might have. Yet Rupert was able to live quite comfortably on the income. And our marriage was amiable enough, even though he never came to love me the way I did him.” Winifred’s mouth curled in a humorless smile. “I was hardly his ideal bride. I was rather plump and plain, and a bit coarse in my manner, too. Rupert preferred a more genteel sort of lady, as I discovered later.”
“Later?”
“After we were wed, I learned he had taken a mistress. One hears things…gossip. Some people are needlessly cruel; the real ladies are the worst. They took glee in telling me of the rumors. Pitying me, laughing at me behind their fans. That was how I learned his paramour was genteel. I never knew her name but she was the love of his life before he was compelled to marry me. It wasn’t until Rupert was lost to her as a husband that she gave up her respectability to become his mistress. And then…I heard she bore him a child.” Pausing, Winifred drew a shuddering breath.
“Are you all right?” Roslyn asked, concerned.
“Yes…it’s just painful to remember.”
“Here, drink this,” Drew said, urging a snifter into Winifred’s hand. He had poured her a measure of brandy from the side table, Roslyn realized.
The elder lady sipped absently, her thoughts seeming far away.
“Go on,” Roslyn said gently after a long moment.
Winifred nodded. “Despite my dismay, I turned a blind eye to Rupert’s infidelities. Never acknowledged or let on that I knew. At first I didn’t want to face the truth that he was unfaithful. I had my pride, after all. And well…I thought he deserved happiness. I wanted him to be happy. Rupert never loved me as I loved him, but he was always a very kind and considerate husband, and he shielded me as much possible from the vicious harpies who spurned me for my low origins.”
Her jaw locked for a moment before she determinedly drained the rest of the brandy in one long swallow. Then she coughed a little before continuing. “And the thing is…I didn’t want him to be punished for my failings. You see, even after a number of years of marriage, I was never able to give him children or a legitimate heir to his title. When I realized I was likely barren, I was actually glad he had a child by another woman. Gentlemen want sons, you know.” Her voice dropped. “His son would be about sixteen years of age now…although the thief looked a bit older than that when I glimpsed him.”
Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. “I thought I could be indifferent, but it hurts to have blatant proof of his adultery.”
Roslyn squeezed her hand comfortingly. “It’s still possible you are mistaken about the boy’s identity.”
“No, dear, I’m not mistaken. I know here….” Herhand covered her heart.
Roslyn felt her own heart go out to her friend. She was sad and angry, knowing how Winifred had suffered from being betrayed by her husband. She was even angrier at the late Sir Rupert for hurting this dear, sweet woman, no matter how frustrating her meddling matchmaking efforts could be.
Hoping to divert Winifred from her pain, Roslyn asked another question entirely. “So why did he hold up your coach and break into your house? Was he after your brooch because it contains a miniature portrait of his father? The brooch was the only thing he seemed to want when he held us up, and he didn’t steal your other more valuable jewelry that was lying there in plain sight.”
“That seems the most likely reason,” Winifred answered unevenly. “And to be truthful, the brooch really isn’t mine. Or at least Rupert never gave it to me. It was turned over to me by the jewelers, where it was being cleaned. Rupert died so suddenly—his heart failed him, you know—that he had no time to put his affairs in order. But I think that miniature was his gift to his mistress….”
Pushing the empty snifter at Roslyn, Winifred began crying softly into her hands.
Roslyn put her arms around Winifred in a consoling embrace, which brought her own painful memories rushing back. She’d consoled her mother this way numerous times over the years. Her father’s shameless philandering had caused her mother even more pain than Winifred had endured. At least Winifred’s husband had been discreet, whereas Sir Charles had flaunted his mistresses just to spite his wife.
When Drew silently provided a handkerchief, Roslyn gave him a grateful glance. Winifred took it and eventually her sobs quieted.
“I am sorry,” she murmured, wiping her eyes. “I don’t mean to turn into a watering pot. It’s just that seeing the boy…has dredged up some painful memories.”
“I know,” Roslyn said softly.
“Rupert had no family relations,” Winifred added, sniffing. “He was the last of his line and his title died with him. That is what I regret most.”
“You cannot let yourself dwell on the past, Winifred.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Sniffing, she sat up straighter. “I cannot stay here sniveling in this ridiculous fashion. I have dinner guests. It is terribly rude to leave them to their own devices. I may not have been born a lady, but I know that much! You and your sisters taught me all about genteel manners, my dear, and now I am letting you down.”
Roslyn managed a smile. “Please don’t concern yourself about the thief, Winifred. Don’t even think about it. His grace and I will determine what should be done.”
Winifred glanced up at Drew with a watery smile. “I didn’t expect to involve you so deeply in my troubles, your grace. I only wanted you to see my dear Roslyn’s worth.”
With a charming smile of his own, he shot Roslyn a glance as he helped Winifred to her feet. “I see her worth quite clearly, my lady. But leave it to me to investigate the boy’s identity.”
“Leave it to us,” Roslyn corrected. “We will discuss the matter while you rejoin your guests, Winifred.”
“Very well,” her ladyship agreed. “I will have Pointon keep your dinner warm.”
When she had gone, Roslyn found herself frowning as Drew settled beside her on the sofa. “Do you think she is right?” she asked. “That the thief really is Sir Rupert’s natural son?”
“It makes sense. If the brooch came into her possession four years ago, he may want it back. But why now? And what happened to his mother if she was Sir Rupert’s mistress?”
“And is the boy really a footman?” Roslyn mused aloud. “If his father failed to provide for him, he may have been forced to seek employment merely to survive. Perhaps he truly is in service in some noble household, and the livery he wore is not a disguise but his regular attire.” Roslyn’s eyes suddenly widened. “Good heavens…what if he served at Danvers Hall last week? We hired numerous extra staff for the wedding celebrations.”
Drew nodded. “That would explain why he was able to intercept your coach so readily. If he was acting as a footman that night, he could have kept watch on Lady Freemantle’s carriage and slipped out in time to ride after it.”
“I should ask the Simpkins if they noticed any of the footmen behaving oddly that evening.”
“Good. Meanwhile, Bow Street may develop some leads about the livery soon.”
“But isn’t there any other avenue we can pursue? I loathe having to sit still and do nothing.”
Drew smiled at her impatience. “I won’t be sitting still. I plan to interview Sir Rupert’s solicitors tomorrow to discover what they know about a former mistress. If we can identify her, it might help us to locate the boy.”
Roslyn gave Drew an admiring look. “That is very clever. And if Sir Rupert did keep a mistress for so long, Fanny may know something about her. Fanny makes it her business to know everything about the demimonde, particularly wealthy gentlemen who could potentially become patrons. And even if she can’t tell us about Sir Rupert’s arrangement, she has acquaintances who may be able to remember his circumstances four years ago.”
“She may be a good source,” Drew agreed.
“And the jewelers who cleaned the brooch might remember whom it was meant for.”
He shook his head at that. “I doubt it. If they returned the brooch to Lady Freemantle, they wouldn’t know its rightful owner. In any event, we should keep our inquiries discreet so as to shield her from unwanted gossip.”
“True,” Roslyn said. “But I want to go with you when you call on the solicitors.”
“That won’t be necessary, darling.”
“It is very necessary. Winifred is my friend, and I want to help her. She won’t have any peace of mind until we solve the mystery of the thief. And we certainly must stop him from trying to steal from her again.”
Drew’s eyes glimmered with amusement. “I suppose there is no point in telling you to stay at home and leave the heroics to me?”
Roslyn dimpled. “None whatsoever.”
He gave an aggrieved sigh. “I suspected as much. Very well, then, I will call for you early tomorrow morning and we’ll visit the solicitors together. You do realize, however, that you will have to ride with me alone in my coach?”
“I am willing to risk it,” Roslyn said confidently, remembering her plan to try and arouse Drew’s ardor. A trip into the City of London would take the best part of an hour. She might as well use the time to attempt to soften his heart toward her.
During the drive to London the next morning, Roslyn subtly resumed her efforts to captivate Drew, but it seemed to have little effect on him. He parried all of her attempts at flirtation with the skill of an expert, merely lifting an amused eyebrow when her attempts became too blatant.
Roslyn was almost glad when they reached Town and she could abandon her pretense and turn her attention to gaining answers about the late Sir Rupert’s affairs.
They called on Fanny first, so they would be sure to find her at home. Not unexpectedly, the courtesan had to be roused from her bed, since in her trade, Fanny often kept late nights.
Even so, she greeted Roslyn with a warm embrace and congratulated the duke on his upcoming nuptials, despite knowing from Roslyn’s letters that the wedding might never take place.
“How disturbing for Lady Freemantle,” Fanny murmured when she’d heard the entire tale. “Not only having a thief invade her home, but a thief who could be the result of her husband’s longtime liaison.”
“Yes,” Roslyn agreed. “But she wants to know the truth either way, so we intend to find him. We hoped you could help us discover who Sir Rupert’s mistress was, Fanny.”
Fanny pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I don’t recall ever meeting him, so I have no idea who he had in keeping. But I will be happy to make inquiries…discreetly, of course.”
“Thank you,” Roslyn said earnestly. “We want to prevent any more gossip about Winifred. She finds this painful enough already.”
“Yes, thank you, Miss Irwin,” Drew added.
When he and Roslyn rose to take their leave, Fanny accompanied them to her front door. Roslyn would have liked to speak to Fanny alone about a number of matters—her betrothal to Drew, her interest in making him fall in love with her, the more intimate subject of precautions against getting with child, and most of all, how her sister was faring, since Lily had been in London for nearly a fortnight now, keeping herself out of reach of Winifred’s matchmaking.
But there was no opportunity for privacy with Fanny, since Drew ushered Roslyn down the front steps and into his coach after directing his coachman where to find the firm of Crupp and Beasly, the solicitors who oversaw Winifred’s fortune.
Regrettably, they had no better luck with the solicitors. They were welcomed obsequiously at the dark, shabby offices on Fleet Street—Drew was a duke, after all. And once he presented a letter of authorization from Lady Freemantle, permitting him to act as her advocate, the nearly ancient Mr. Crupp’s stiffness eased and he listened attentively as Drew explained precisely what they wanted.
Despite his age, the elderly lawyer still seemed to possess a keen mind, for he asked several sharp questions to clarify certain points. At the conclusion, however, Mr. Crupp sadly shook his head.
“It is possible, your grace, that Sir Rupert paid an income to a mistress for a good many years, but we would not be privy to the arrangements. Doubtless he contrived for another solicitor to handle his private affairs, since he would not have wished Lady Freemantle to know he was spending part of her fortune thusly. And if he did have a second family, he could not very well provide for them in his will and testament without her ladyship discovering the unsavory truth.”
“What other solicitors might he have employed?” Drew asked.
Mr. Crupp responded with a sour smile that showed his false teeth. “The possibilities are numerous, your grace. There are some two hundred solicitors in the City alone, and nearly double that if you count all of England. Even more if you include Scotland. Some of the best legal minds in Britain hail from Edinburgh. But we could inquire of our colleagues, if you wish. It will be rather costly, however….”
“I do wish,” Drew replied. “And cost is no object. You will of course keep this confidential.”
“Most certainly, your grace. Lady Freemantle has been our esteemed client for many years, and her father before her, and we are privileged to serve her in any way possible.”
Roslyn was disappointed to have gathered so little information, but Drew was more optimistic. “I expected as much. If Sir Rupert was considerate enough to shield his wife from learning about his affair during his lifetime, he would have taken pains to hide the knowledge even after his death. But Bow Street may have something to tell us about the livery by now.”
The private police service, indeed, had made a measure of progress on the case, for they had identified two noble households that used blue-and-silver livery. However, discovering whether a ginger-haired young man was employed at either place as a footman would require delicate questioning.
Drew instructed them to turn the information over to Crupp and Beasly, who could be trusted to handle the matter with more circumspection than Bow Street. It would raise curiosity, perhaps even alarm, if a Runner began poking his nose into the servant staff of the aristocracy.
The same was true about investigating the temporary staff employed for the Danvers wedding celebrations. When Roslyn had asked the Simpkins about that night, neither could recall any unusual behavior by any of the footmen. And since they had hired nearly two dozen footmen and almost that same number of grooms and cook’s helpers, it would be difficult to track the thief through the London employment agency they’d used, even with his distinctive color hair, so Drew decided to pursue that course as a last resort.
On the return drive home, he watched as Roslyn stared despondently out the window. “Don’t lose heart yet. We will find our thief eventually.”
At his assurance, she sat up straighter, casting him a glance as he sat beside her on the velvet squabs. “I’m certain you are right, Drew. I should have more faith in your abilities. Your ideas have been exceedingly clever thus far.” She offered him a smile. “I am very grateful to you for your efforts on Winifred’s behalf,” she added, her voice soft and low. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me prematurely,” he replied. “I haven’t accomplished anything yet.”
“But you will. I know that once you set your mind to something, you will succeed. Just like when you seduced me in the cottage.” Roslyn laughed lightly. “I told Fanny I couldn’t resist you, which was true. You were quite irresistible.”
“I am flattered you think so,” Drew said dryly, wondering at her sincerity.
“It is not flattery, merely honesty. What amazes me, though, is how easily you made me forget all sense of propriety. I was raised to be a perfect lady, but you made me abandon my principles. But then, what chance did I have against the mastery of such a magnificent lover?”
Drew gave her a sharp glance. “What the devil are you up to, sweetheart?”
Roslyn responded with another musical trill of laughter. “I am only trying to be a good pupil, applying the lessons you taught me. Don’t you care for my methods, darling? I was certain you would appreciate them.”
When she trailed a forefinger along his arm, teasing him provocatively, Drew grasped her hand and held it away. “Are you purposely trying to seduce me?”
Roslyn eyes widened with innocence. “Well, I admit I am trying to arouse you.”
“Why?”
“You said the way to a man’s heart is through his lust.”
He had indeed said something of the sort when he was advising her how to capture Haviland. But it was her particular choice of words that struck him. Drew studied her warily. “Are you after my heart, Roslyn?”
Her smile turned wistful. “Well, to be truthful, I don’t think it’s even possible to win your heart. But as long as we are betrothed, I thought I should exert the effort to make you enamored of me.”
Drew surveyed her silently. Her soft smile tantalized him, as it doubtless was meant to do. Yet he was surprised to acknowledge his disappointment. He had groomed Roslyn to be the ideal mistress, the very kind of enticing female who had once attracted him.
He should be pleased she had become such a good pupil, yet he’d discovered he didn’t like her pretense. And that was all it was, pretense. Her artifice grated on his nerves. Instead, he wanted Roslyn to be herself—charming and warm and frank and honest, rather than cuttingly witty and artificially alluring. He saw qualities in her that were much like Eleanor’s. He liked her forthrightness, her independence, her generous nature….
He’d watched her comfort Lady Freemantle last evening, and this Roslyn was a very different woman from the warm, compassionate one last evening.
While he pondered, she leaned closer, letting her lips almost touch his. “Am I unnerving you, darling?”
Hell yes, she was unnerving him, Drew reflected. She was playing the role of bewitching temptress to perfection. God help him if she actually tried to seduce him.
When he didn’t reply, Roslyn reached up to touch his mouth with her forefinger. “I think I understand what the real problem is, Drew. You like to be the pursuer, and it discomfits you when the roles are reversed. But if you dislike my teasing, I will stop.”
Drew frowned. Perhaps that was indeed the trouble. Roslyn seemed to be chasing him. He enjoyed the chase, not feeling like the quarry. But he could always turn the tables on her.
Relaxing back in his seat, he shook his head. “I don’t want you to stop. But if you intend to seduce me, then do it properly.” Reaching for her hand, he drew it into his lap, letting her feel the swollen hardness at his groin.
As expected, Roslyn quickly snatched her hand back. “I did not mean to arouse you that much.”
He gave her a wicked smile. “If you mean to play the temptress, love, you must be prepared to see it through.”
Putting an arm around her shoulders, he slid his hand downward to her breasts. Due to the warmth inside the coach, she had unbuttoned her spencer, so he had easy access to the bodice of her muslin gown. His hand slipped inside, beneath her chemise and corset, and began to play tantalizingly with her nipples. They jutted out instantly.
“Drew,” Roslyn said breathlessly, clutching at his arm to stay his caresses. Yet he saw with satisfaction that her eyes had flared and turned hot.
Using his other hand, he went on fondling her, stroking the taut buds, pinching lightly. “Are you aroused yet?”
“You know I am—and this has gone far enough.”
Drew smiled lazily down at her. “But we have only just begun, darling. I intend to make love to you right here. We have ample time before we reach home.”
“You cannot—”
“Certainly I can. We can…and we will.”
Her nipples tightening to a hard ache, Roslyn squirmed in her seat, feeling the now familiar quickening between her thighs.
“Be still, love.”
How could she possibly be still? Roslyn wondered. In addition to the swaying motion of the coach, Drew was deliberately performing his sensual sorcery on her.
“Drew, you have to stop….” Yet her raspy plea held little conviction, while a reckless excitement uncoiled in her belly at the scandalous notion of making forbidden love to him in a carriage. She didn’t want him to stop—and the devil very well knew it. When she lifted her gaze to glance up at him, she saw that he was watching her, his green eyes heavy-lidded and gleaming. He knew exactly the effect he was having on her, deuce take him.
“Drew….” she implored one more time as he tugged at her neckline.
“Hush. I am furthering your education…teaching you more about pleasure.” Slowly he lowered her bodice so that her breasts spilled out. “And this lesson will benefit me as well. I want to learn your body, so that I never forget the feel of you….” He leaned closer and nipped her earlobe. “I want you to learn mine, so that you never forget the feel of me.”
His hot breath burned her ear. Roslyn felt herself melting as the heat inside her burned higher with each seductive word. Drew’s eyes sparked with the same heat as he scrutinized her breasts, the pale ripe globes pushed up by the confinement of her corset below, the dark-rose nipples straining and pouting.
His eyes smoldering, intense, he dipped his head to suckle her. Jolting at the touch of his scalding mouth, Roslyn shuddered at the riveting pleasure and fell weakly back against his arm, her fingers sliding into his silken hair.
She could no more resist him than she could fly. Drew knew how to liquify a woman’s body, to devastate her willpower, to set all her senses on fire and fill her with longing.
Yet it seemed he was only teasing her. Abandoning the wet, aching crests, he raised his mouth to hers and kissed her with the same potent seductiveness. His lips were hot and restless, moving over hers in sensuous coercion, inflaming her already throbbing senses with the merciless eroticism of a master. Her body and mind were awash with hot-blooded desire by the time he reached down to gather the hem of her gown.
Still kissing her, he slid his hand beneath her skirts and upward, his searching fingers unerringly finding the folds of her sex, feeling how damp she was in the aching hollow of her womanhood.
Roslyn inhaled a sharp breath…but he went no further. Instead, Drew broke off his enthralling kisses and, to her bewilderment, left his seat and knelt before her. Then pushing up her skirts to her waist, he parted her legs.
Roslyn tensed, while a flush rose to her cheeks. She looked like a wanton, lounging there with her breasts bare, her pale thighs spread for his blatant sexual perusal—and Drew clearly appreciated what he saw.
At his heated expression, her heart suddenly started pounding. “Drew, what are you doing?”
“Pleasuring you.”
Slowly he ran his hands up her inner thighs, stroking upward to the damp verge of her sex. When he began to lower his head, Roslyn gave a small gasp. Yet she wasn’t shocked. From the night in the garden, she knew exactly what he intended.
A thrill ran through her, even as her long-ingrained sense of propriety fought against such a brazen act.
When she tried to draw back, though, Drew wouldn’t let her move. He slid his hands under her hips, holding her still. Roslyn closed her eyes. He understood her shameful desires. He knew what she wanted better than she did herself.
Giving in to her covetous longings, she remained mute as he eased her buttocks to the edge of the seat. But then he bent to taste her with his tongue, lightly caressing the bare lips of her sex.
“Oh…!” The word strangled in her throat.
Her thigh muscles quivering, she gave a soft moan. The delicate massage of his tongue was deliciously arousing. And then he found the secret point that was the center of her pleasure.
Roslyn clutched at his hair as he ran his tongue along the swollen nub, stroking, laving. “Oh, my…sweet…heaven….”
Drew only opened his mouth more, his tongue pressing harder against her.
Her hands fisting in his hair, she raised her hips, seeking surcease. She was breathless with need, helplessly drowning in a deep, intoxicating whirlpool of desire.
And Drew just went on arousing her. Draping her knees over his shoulders, he buried his face deeper between her thighs, his lips closing tighter over the throbbing bud as he suckled her with his artful mouth.
Roslyn whimpered at the exquisite torture. The lash of pleasure was almost cruel, yet she couldn’t bear for him to stop. Holding his head in place with two tight fists, she arched upward against his mouth as he continued inciting her senses to a fever pitch.
Her head was thrashing now. It was all too much, too overwhelming. A moment later she gave a strangled cry as devastating pleasure flooded her. Her body quaked and quivered with pulsating release, until the blissful spasms finally faded.
Her eyes still shut, Roslyn was dimly aware of the gentle rocking of the carriage, of the exhausted pleasure in her throbbing body.
Her lashes slowly lifting, she opened her eyes to find Drew looking at her with that maddening half smile. He was still on his knees before her, but he had unbuttoned his pantaloons.
His member jutted out from between his well-hewn thighs, and Roslyn found her gaze inexorably drawn to it.
“Touch me,” he ordered. The husky command resonated through her.
Fascinated, she reached out and touched his hot skin, her hand trembling as she stroked the beautiful, hard length of him.
“Do you feel how much I want you?”
Yes, she could feel it. He was almost impossibly aroused, while his eyes had darkened with passion.
Roslyn shivered with insatiable longing. She wanted him thick and hot and pulsing inside her. And yet she was unsure what he wanted. “Would you like me to…pleasure you the way you did me?” she asked softly.
Drew felt his body clench at the erotic question. The thought of Roslyn’s luscious mouth on him was nearly enough to make his cock explode. But she was still too virginal for such carnal delights. “Someday soon,” he answered, “but not just now. Right now I want to be inside you.”
“I want that too.”
Her voice was a breathy whisper that fired his blood, and Drew gritted his teeth in response. His own body was betraying him with the intensity of his need, his swollen cock surging up to his belly. He was ravenous for her, his lust primal and urgent. His blood was pumping so hard, he wanted to take her without further wooing or preliminaries.
Yet he knew he had to go carefully so as not to hurt her. Getting up off his knees, Drew returned to his seat and sank back against the cushions. “You can mount me. We haven’t yet tried that position.”
Her smile was shy and sensual at the same time. “Are you attempting to prove what a creative lover you can be?”
“In part. You can think of it as furthering your education.”
His hands going to her waist, he raised her up to straddle him so that her knees were braced on either side of his thighs, his aching shaft nestled in the silken haven between her legs.
When he hesitated, she frowned a little. “Why are you stopping?”
He smiled, gratified by her impatience. “I want to take my time…draw out the enjoyment.” Which was partly true.
She was incredibly beautiful, Drew thought as he surveyed Roslyn…her luminous skin, her hot, pleading eyes. Yet he was more than willing to give her what she wanted.
He lifted her a bit. His erection probing the thatch of golden curls at the apex, he guided the engorged crest into her sleek cleft and eased her down the slightest measure. When she would have sunk faster, he stopped her.
“Slowly,” he cautioned. “You can’t take all of me just yet.”
He could feel the yielding of her flesh, though. Spreading her thighs wider, he slowly thrust into her warm, honeyed interior, his penetration increasing carefully.
Her sex opened and swelled for him until she rode him fully, her body impaled, stretched taut. Now it was Roslyn who hesitated, her breath coming in soft little pants.
Drew clenched his jaw harder. The slick heat of her sheath bathed his throbbing staff, and he thought there was no better feeling on earth. Yet he could feel his control slipping, especially when she started to move her hips.
“Just wait, sweetheart….” His hands curled around the globes of her bottom, holding her still. He felt a wild desperation to bury himself even deeper inside her, to pound into her until there was no breath left in her body or his. The urgency of it burned through him, but he fought the fierce urge.
Instead, he lifted her up a little, then lowered her again…and then again…until she caught his rhythm. And eventually when Roslyn arched against him and let her head fall back, his mouth dipped to caress her swollen breasts, sucking and pulling at the pebbled crests to heighten her pleasure. He wanted her hot and wet and wanton for him….
Very soon he got his wish. He could feel the urgent need building inside her each time he filled her. And in a few more moments, Roslyn was rocking wildly against him in time with the pitch of the carriage, the inner muscles of her drenched passage clasping him instinctively.
“Drew…” she rasped. “I don’t think I…can wait.”
Neither could he. The intoxicating delirium grew like a fever in his blood. He was full, beyond ready to burst.
His hands left her hips, tangled in her hair, as he took her mouth hungrily, his tongue plunging inside the way he wanted to do lower down with his cock. His own breath labored, he tried to shake away the sense of losing control, tried to slow down the pace. But her frenzied abandon was driving him mad.
When fiery waves of pleasure started to engulf him, Drew gave a growl, raw and primitive, and thrust into her one last time, setting off an explosion within them both.
He muffled the sounds with his mouth when she cried out in ecstasy but couldn’t contain his own harsh groans when he followed her shattering climax, contracting with the force of his seed spurting from his body.
Afterward, she collapsed against his chest, panting and limp.
Drew held her close, his own breath ragged in her ear, one thought running through his dazed mind: If he’d once presumed that bedding Roslyn would satisfy his hunger for her, he knew now that he was wrong. He would never get enough of her.
Weakly, he raised his head to gaze down at her. Her eyes were half closed, drowsy with languor. She looked utterly delectable with the rosy glow of carnal satiation suffusing her lovely face.
Drew pressed his lips against her hair. Their second mating had been a searing delight, just as he’d expected. It had sapped his strength, left him utterly content.
Amazing, really, considering all the lovers he’d known. But he’d never been so hotly aroused with any other woman, had never relished making love more. And he was certain Roslyn had experienced it as intensely as he had.
He didn’t want to stop now, either. He wanted to learn her body intimately, to discover what pleased her, to teach her what pleased him, to explore the intricacies of desire and passion and carnal bliss.
But they were traveling in his carriage and would be arriving at Danvers Hall in a short while. If they didn’t want to scandalize his servants, they would have to erase all evidence of their lovemaking.
With one last kiss to her temple, Drew reluctantly withdrew from her body and eased Roslyn onto the seat beside him.
Recovering her modesty immediately, if not her strength, she fumbled with her bodice. When Drew brushed her hands aside to help her, she flushed a becoming pink. And before she could push down her skirts, he fished in his coat pocket for a handkerchief and dried the traces of his seed from her thighs, then used it to clean his own loins.
“Your handkerchiefs have come in quite handy of late,” Roslyn muttered, obviously embarrassed as she reordered her gown. “You offered one to Winifred last night.”
“Indeed,” Drew agreed. “I seem to need them frequently when I am around you.”
He began buttoning his pantaloons, and Roslyn averted her gaze to stare straight ahead. When he glanced at her, he saw her biting her lower lip. “What is the matter, sweeting?”
“I cannot believe I let this happen. I intended to ask Fanny for…”
“Ask Fanny for what?” Drew prodded when she broke off.
“Never mind.”
“Roslyn, tell me.”
“Very well, if you must know…I wanted her assistance with something. Fanny has ways for a woman to keep from becoming enceinte.”
“And you are worried about that?”
She sent him a look of exasperation. “I should think you would be worried as well. Surely you don’t want to father any illegitimate children…or perhaps you already have some?”
Drew smiled faintly. He wasn’t concerned about fathering an illegitimate child on Roslyn because he had every intention of marrying her. “I have no children at all that I’m aware of.”
“Probably because your mistresses have their own methods of preventing pregnancy. But I don’t want to end up like Sir Rupert’s mistress, bearing a child out of wedlock.”
“If you find yourself with child, there will be no question about our marrying.”
Her expression turned serious. “Which is exactly what I want to avoid—us being forced to wed for the wrong reasons.”
“I will take care of the matter before our next time.”
“There will not be a next time,” Roslyn stated emphatically.
“I seem to recall you saying that yesterday,” Drew replied, his tone amused.
“Will you please quit reminding me of how weak I am?”
His amusement grew. “You were the one who tried to seduce me just now, remember?”
“But I never meant to go so far.” She shot him a cross look. “You have a deplorable power over me.”
“And you affect me similarly, Beauty. You arouse my lust with a mere touch.”
Roslyn frowned unhappily. “That is precisely the trouble, Drew. Don’t you see?”
“What is the trouble?”
“We feel lust for one another, but nothing deeper. Our hearts are not engaged.”
He fell silent, not wanting to discuss the uncomfortable subject of love with her again. But Roslyn clearly wasn’t of the same mind.
“You are a magnificent lover, Drew—no one could dispute it. You know exactly how to make my body respond. But that is all.”
“That is all?” His eyebrow lifted. “You’re saying you didn’t enjoy what we just did?”
“Of course I enjoyed it. But I want more from marriage than physical pleasure.”
“So you’ve told me.”
“But you didn’t seem to hear me.” She folded her arms over her chest, whether out of defensiveness or mere stubbornness, he wasn’t certain. “Becoming betrothed was unavoidable, Drew, but I won’t marry you unless we love each other. Only if you can truly say you love me, and I can say the same to you.”
He looked at her with hooded eyes. “What happened to your plan to make me enamored of you?”
Her mouth twisted. “I was being naive. I thought I could win a man’s heart if I could kindle his desire, but I realize now that I was wrong. Passion won’t lead to love. Desire won’t make you love me—or make me love you. Nor will these games of seduction we have been playing. I see now how superficial and shallow they are.”
“Perhaps, but that has nothing to do with our betrothal, or our eventual marriage.”
“It has everything to do with it!” Roslyn insisted.
Stopping, she took a calming breath. There was a quiet plea in her voice when she finally spoke again. “You don’t really want to wed me, Drew. You don’t want a true wife. Someone who could be more to you than a broodmare for your heirs…lover, companion, helpmate, confidante, friend. If you want heirs, any number of women will do.”
“I do want to marry you, Roslyn.”
“But I don’t want to marry you. I want love in my marriage, Drew. I need it.”
His mouth tightened. “I think you put far too much credence in love.”
Her voice dropped to a low murmur. “Perhaps, but without it, marriage can too easily lead to heartache. I couldn’t bear it if my husband and I battled all the time. Or if he betrayed our marriage vows the way my father betrayed my mother. Love is the only thing that will ensure a good marriage.”
Drew responded with an impatient, scoffing sound. “You are confusing love with infatuation.”
“No, I am not. Infatuation is merely a powerful physical attraction. True love comes from the heart.” Her tone softened. “Heart love is vastly different from physical love.”
“Heart love?”
She pressed her palm to her breastbone. “It comes from here, Drew. It’s a feeling of warmth, of caring. Of tenderness. Heart love is when you put someone else’s needs above your own. You are eager to be with her, and you miss her when you aren’t. Your life is brighter, more joyous because she is in it. You can’t imagine living without her.” Her gaze searched his. “Have you ever felt that way toward a woman before, Drew?”
He could say without question that he’d never felt any such thing.
When he didn’t respond, Roslyn smiled rather bleakly. “I don’t believe there is any danger of you feeling heart love for me. To engage your heart, you must first feel real emotion, not merely lust and desire.”
“Do you love Haviland?”
For a moment she stared at him, then looked away. “There is no use in my even thinking about Lord Haviland.”
Drew felt that fierce stab of jealousy again. Roslyn’s emotions were engaged for Haviland, he had little doubt. And he’d taken her away from him.
Just then Drew became aware that the carriage had slowed as it turned onto the gravel drive to Danvers Hall. Shaking off his dark reflections, he reached up to smooth a wild tendril back from her face. Roslyn jerked back quickly, as if his touch burned.
“See,” she said quietly. “That is what I mean. Our attraction is purely physical.”
He did see her point, since he’d felt the same heated shock. The spark he felt just touching Roslyn was intense enough to burn.
There were other manifestations of his attraction as well. His heart quickened whenever she was near. He was constantly aware of her. And there certainly was no question that he wanted her in his bed—more than he’d ever wanted any woman.
But those were all physical signs of his growing infatuation….
When the carriage came to a halt, Drew pushed open the door and started to climb out, but Roslyn stopped him. “Please…you needn’t escort me inside. You have done more than enough already.” Her voice was soft as she met his gaze. “I truly thank you for doing so much to help my friend Winifred, Drew. And for trying to protect my reputation by becoming betrothed to me. But I don’t believe we are suited for marriage.”
He didn’t reply as his groom lowered the step for her and helped her down. And he remained sitting there unmoving as he watched Roslyn run lightly up the front steps and into the house.
“Yer grace?” a respectful voice finally interrupted his distracted thoughts.
“Yes?”
“What are yer orders, yer grace?”
“Take me home to Mayfair,” Drew answered tersely, wanting to put Roslyn’s disturbing conversation out of his mind. But as his coach began moving again, he found himself still dwelling on what she’d said about emotions.
His were rarely engaged, Drew readily admitted. By his very nature, he was dispassionate, reserved, guarded.
But damnation, she was wrong about his feelings for her. How could she say he didn’t feel emotion in her case? For weeks now Roslyn had stirred a riot of emotions in him: amusement, desire, anger, affection, vexation, jealousy, exasperation, passion. Most especially passion.
She’d brought chaos into his well-ordered life, warmth to his cold existence—and he found that he relished it.
It was a startling discovery about himself, Drew realized. All his past liaisons had been based solely on physical pleasure. But he wanted something deeper.
He wanted real emotion in his life. Real passion with and for a woman. With and for Roslyn.
Drew found himself scowling. But what of her? What did Roslyn feel for him? Certainly not love. He could arouse her body but not her emotions. He could kindle her passion now but nothing more.
As for the games of seduction they’d been playing with each other…she was right about that. Even so, there was nothing superficial or shallow about what he felt for her. He might not love her, but he was far from indifferent toward her.
One thing was clear, though. His courtship wasn’t working thus far. And if he wanted her to wed him, he would have to change his strategy entirely.
He would have to elicit far more than passion from Roslyn.
He would have to win her heart.