To Want a Rogue

He stopped, turning toward the window and gazing out. Dahlia could see the stone wolf statues from her position on the other side of the desk. She swallowed, her hand pressing into her stomach. “Can’t have me here? But my brother…he isn’t well enough to travel.”

“Your brother is not an innocent woman without a chaperone,” he answered without turning. “He can stay until he recovers. You, however, may not.”

Her insides sloshed about, her breakfast threatening to land on the rich carpet of his study. Which couldn’t happen. She’d ruined enough of his rugs already. “You can’t just send me away. He needs me.”

“My cousin is now married. He lives in the next county, not far. He could—”

She barely heard his words. Sam needed her to tend him so she must stay close by. He was her friend, her brother, the person who kept her safe in a world that was sometimes mad. The person she loved more than any other. And above all, their fates were tied together. She needed to be here for him and for herself. “I don’t need to go to your cousin’s. It’s perfectly appropriate for me to stay here.” She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm through the lie she was about to tell. “I am a widow. As such, I don’t need a chaperone.”

He turned abruptly and Dahlia took a half step back. His eyes were like dark embers of a fire still hot with flame. “A widow?”

Dahlia swallowed the lump of fear that had risen in her throat. She was making a mistake. His gaze was so intense it was almost…predatory. She should run, she should agree to go to his cousin’s home. She should…her hand fluttered to her throat. Something about the way he looked at her made her long to touch his arm again and feel his rumbling growl vibrate through her.”

“Yes. That’s correct. Mrs. Greenwich.” Her tutor’s name. She was going to hell for such a lie. The heat from his gaze assured her she was halfway there already.

“Well, Mrs. Greenwich. That certainly does change things.”

Gavin’s body was so tight, he felt like the string of a bow. The slightest tweak would send arrows flying about the room.

A widow? He closed his eyes for a moment. An affair with a widow was perfectly acceptable. Completely overlooked by society. No commitment required.

Hell and damnation, he wanted to toss her on the desk, lift her skirts, and plow into her this very second. From the moment he’d become aware that she was in fact a woman, his reaction had been instantaneous and overwhelming. He tried to remember when he’d ever been so completely, animally attracted to a woman. It must

certainly be his isolation, and that he’d been celibate for so long, years now, that explained his reaction. Didn’t it?

Lord Nearbottom, the friend who had suggested his upcoming party, had been correct. Gavin had gone too long without a good tup.

Nearbottom’s solution had been to bring several professional women to a weekend of debauchery, but Gavin was fairly certain those ladies weren’t the answer. He’d never thought it a good idea and now a much better solution stood in front of him. He’d much rather have Mrs. Greenwich in his bed. In fact, he should likely send a missive to Nearbottom to cancel the party altogether.

Not that Dahlia, as her brother called her, would be in his bed anytime soon. She had a sick brother to tend and, besides, who knew if she’d even be amenable? But he was damn well going to try. Why hadn’t it occurred to him to seek out the company of a widow sooner? She’d understand him and the loss he’d faced.

He had no intention of marrying, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a respectable woman’s company. Satiate his body and hers, and stave off his loneliness for a time without the risk of a commitment. His guilt churned in his stomach. Even thinking about an affair with Dahlia made his feel as though he were betraying Amelia. “How does your brother fair this morning?”

She blinked, cocking her head again. Her hair was neatly arranged in a mass at the nape of her neck, a few tendrils floating down the side of her face and curling around her perfect breast. Jesus. His cocked swelled and he stepped closer to the desk to hide the fact. Damn insensitive, his manhood. She licked her lips and he nearly groaned aloud.

“He seemed to fair reasonably well. It’s infection I’m concerned about.”

Gavin gave a stiff nod. “As am I. While he’s sleeping, we can clean the wound again and dress it with fresh cloth. It will help reduce the risk.”

She gave him a soft smile, the kind that made him want to take her face in his hands and kiss her until her lips were puffy from his attention. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

He tightly nodded. “If you will excuse me, I have some correspondence that requires my immediate attention, but I will join you shortly.”

She gave a single nod. “Of course. Thank you for all of your help, my lord.” Then she dipped into a courtesy.

“My pleasure, Mrs. Greenwich.” He gave a stiff bow, needing for her to exit the room so that he could regain control of his overheating body. “If you’d be inclined, I’d very much like your company for dinner.”

She started, surprised by his invitation. Odd. Under the circumstances a shared meal was completely appropriate. Why did she seem so nervous? Perhaps it was the wolfish expression he was surely wearing. He relaxed his features and she did too. “I’d be delighted.” She then turned and fled the room before he could say anything more, which was probably just as well. He needed to write Nearbottom and he needed to calm his racing pulse.

Sitting down, he dipped the pen in ink, scrawling a quick note of apology. While he understood that Nearbottom had already begun the journey from London, a carriage accident and several unexpected guests now made entertaining impossible at this time. It was the truth, though it lacked several pertinent details.

Sealing up the letter, he dripped wax and pressed in his crest, ringing for the butler. With the party now out of way, he was free to figure out how to help Dahlia with her brother, and perhaps even arrange a tryst of their own.

Chapter Five

Sam had slept peacefully for most of the day. He’d woken briefly for a light meal and then gone back to sleep. Overall, the doctor was pleased with how the wounds looked. So far, there were no signs of infection.

Dahlia had sighed with relief at the news and then dressed for dinner. Her trunk had been rescued from the wreckage, so she’d returned Mary’s dress and was free to wear her own silk gown. The only one she had. It was a dark blue that complimented her hair and eyes, one of her favorites.