Page 87 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
Chapter 23
The library candlesputtered and died, leaving them wrapped in a thin stream of smoke and darkness. Charley’s hands cradled her shoulders, his lips moved against hers but a moment, and then trailed to her cheek, to her ear, and down to a spot on her neck that sent her wriggling. Pleasure coursed through her, making her heart pound, stealing her breath. She tried to push closer, but he held her away, his touch gentle but strong.
“We’ll be more comfortable in a bed,” he murmured. “Your bedchamber or mine?”
A servant could enter her chamber any time. Even Lady Perry might come knocking. But that could happen at his bedchamber also.
“Can we not lock the door here? There is the sofa.” She squeezed her eyes tightly. Rigo had taken her on the hard ground, many times, many ways, the rocks and pebbles grinding into her back and her breasts.
His lips touched her forehead like butterflies landing, so soft for a man. “I’ll lock this door.”
Her courage surged. She reached for his arm. “No. We’ll go to your bedchamber. Your valet will be discreet?”
“I was only joking in the nursery about my valet being upset. I don’t keep one. And I have a sturdy lock on my door.”
In mere breathlessmoments they had reached his chamber.
The heavy curtains were pulled back, the window open to the moonlight and a breeze alive with the city’s scents.
He struck a spark, lit a lamp, and then one by one, each taper in a brace of candles on the mantle.
Books and journals were piled atop a carved table near the fireplace. The hangings and upholstery were a dark, manly color; forest green, she would guess. The bed...the bed stood back, tall and not particularly wide. It was a chamber for a single man, and other than the presence of the books, impersonal, as though Charley did not really live here.
He went to another table, poured a glass of amber liquid, and walked it back to her.
“You may turn the key in that lock,” he said.
She did.
He extended the tumbler to her. “Brandy. I’m sorry, I have but one glass. I should have thought to bring another from the library.”
She shook her head. “I wish to be sober.”
He looked at the glass, frowning as if seeing all her secrets in it, again.
Her heart pounded. Charley was not Rigo. He was not. The only time she had seen Charley drunk, at her betrothal ball, he had been but acting.
She snatched the glass from him. “One sip perhaps.” The hot liquid burned her lips. She swished it in her mouth, let it coat her throat, and handed it back to him. “Bottoms up.”
A small smile curved his lips. He tossed the rest of the drink back, eyes locked on hers, Adam’s apple moving in a way that made her shiver.
Everything about him was well made. She shut her eyes tight. Everything about Rigo had been well made also. Everything except the man he was.
Soft lips touched each eyelid. “Don’t be afraid. We’ll stop whenever you ask.”
She opened her eyes and saw that he had moved away, carrying the empty glass back.
She followed him, deciding to be brave. “I am not afraid of you. What comes next?”
He pointed. “The dressing chamber door needs locking.”
She crossed the room and did that. “Now what?” she asked.
“I am yours to command.”
Her heart pounded, excitement building. His kisses were divine. Perhaps a kiss and then…
He tugged at his neck cloth, unwinding it.
