Page 75 of Once More, My Darling Rogue
Rosencrantz leaping up—slamming into Drake.
As he lost his balance, somehow he twisted, released her, tumbled into the trough while she landed on the ground with a soft thud. She scrambled to her knees. “Are you all right?”
Soaked, he sat in the small trough, his legs sprawled over the sides, water dripping from his hair, droplets gathering on his face. He appeared so disgruntled, so ... adorable. Not a word she would have ever thought to associate with him.
“I’m fine,” he groused.
“Serves you right, for wanting to dump me in there.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Careful, sweetheart, you don’t want to poke the tiger.”
The words, the tone, the menace were familiar. He’d said the words before. Why? In what situation? Because what she did know was that she did want to poke him, did want him to react. She was hoping for laughter, but she thought she would settle for anything other than the politeness, the careful questioning and answering that indicated he always watched his words with her, ever since their kiss in the garden. He was so cautious, distancing himself, and she hated it. It didn’t matter that he seemed to come home earlier and leave later, he was too watchful, too civil.
He started to pull himself up. Rose jumped up, placing his huge paws on Drake’s shoulder, and Drake went down again. Slapping her hand over her mouth, she chortled. She couldn’t help it. When he glared at her, she chuckled all the harder.
Rose began stroking his large tongue over Drake’s face and neck—
Sitting back on her heels, she laughed outright at the sight of the unhappy man and the incredibly happy dog, his tail wagging so forcefully that he was whipping up a wind.
“Help me get out of here,” Drake grumbled.
She swallowed back her amusement. “Yes, all right.”
After shoving herself to her feet, she shooed Rose away. The dog lumbered off, caught sight of a squirrel, and they were forgotten as he raced after it. Drake held up his hand. She wrapped hers around it, expecting to provide him with some leverage. Instead she felt an insistent pull, shrieked, fell forward—
She landed on his belly, water soaking her hips and torso, her legs over the side of the trough, her hands on his shoulders buffering her fall. Deep laughter echoed around her. Rather than protest her position, his ploy, she marveled at the richness of Drake’s throaty laughter, the sight of his head thrown back. She would weather a thousand dunkings for that sound. Smiling broadly, she joined her chortling with his, until her eyes watered, her sides ached. She laid her head on his chest.
His laughter died, hers withered.
Very slowly she rose up. He was so near. His nose nearly touching hers. Whatever mirth he’d been enjoying had dissipated. Within his smoldering eyes, she now saw desire and longing. She could feel the yearning in his tense body, almost quivering like a tightly strung bow with the arrow notched and pulled back—she was an archer, a corner of her mind whispered. But she let the memory go because nothing in her past mattered as much as he did. Nothing was more important than this moment.
He was going to kiss her again. She knew it with everything in her heart. She wanted him to kiss her, wanted to feel the luxurious movements of his mouth over hers. She wanted it desperately, even as she knew another kiss would lead them further into temptation and she didn’t know if she was strong enough to deny them the journey.
“I love your laughter,” she whispered.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard it. I’d forgotten—” He shook his head, swallowed. “We need to get you dry.”
Just like that the spell was broken, and she wondered if perhaps she’d imagined it. Shifting his weight, placing his hands on her hips, he managed to boost her up until she was again on her feet. Her clothing clung to her. She’d have to change into the scratchy clothing she’d first worn upon awakening with no memories, but she didn’t mind.
He worked his way out of the trough. Before he could step away, she cradled his jaw, his cheek. “I wish I remembered everything I knew about you.”
“You wouldn’t like me much if you did.”
“I find that rather difficult to believe, because at this precise moment I like you a great deal indeed.”
He liked her a great deal as well.
Gazing in the mirror as he knotted his neck cloth after his bath, Drake knew that was a problem. She wasn’t supposed to make him laugh. She wasn’t supposed to care so much about a blasted horse that she used her silver hairbrush to groom it. She wasn’t supposed to make him want to kiss her senseless. She wasn’t supposed to make him wish that she never regained her memories, that they could carry on like this forever.
He sank into a chair and lifted a boot that had been buffed to such a shine that he could fairly see his reflection in it. She had done that. She was doing so much more than he had ever initially intended. He couldn’t keep her. He had to tell her the truth, return her to her life.
Shoving his foot into the boot, he decided that he would confess all and take her home before he went to the club. He was fairly certain Somerdale hadn’t meant her any harm. She would be safe with her brother.
As he yanked on his other boot, he wondered iffairly certainwas certain enough to ensure her safety. He shook his head. He was striving to convince himself to delay the inevitable. Surely arguing with himself was a sign of madness.
She had driven him to it.
He’d almost kissed her when they were in the water trough. If he took her mouth one more time, he didn’t know if he’d find the strength to stop until he’d taken all of her.
