To Want a Rogue

Dahlia closed her eyes, a truth slipping from her lips. “I don’t want to be alone in this world.”

Lord de Wolfe moved closer. Though she still had her eyes closed, she could feel his heat through her dress. Her ni

pples tightened and her eyes flew open just as his lips brushed her cheek. No man had ever been this close to her. “I can keep you company. We understand each other, I think.”

No, no, no. They did not understand each other. Not at all. She was a liar. And Dahlia had stayed to watch over her brother, not to allow a seductive man to draw her into a web of attraction. He was a predator. A sly one. “If you will excuse me, Lord de Wolfe. I’m not feeling well. I think I should return to my room.” Which was what she should have done in the first place.

His eyes tried to form a question, but he nodded, still terribly close. “Of course. Allow me to escort you up.”

“No,” she said quickly and rather louder than was necessary. “I’ll be fine. If you could please have a tray sent up, I’d be most grateful.”

“I’d be happy to.” He was still so close, his fingers lightly stroking her arm. “Are you sure you don’t need assistance upstairs? You’ve gone quite pale.”

She took a step back, still clutching her wine glass. “No, thank you.” She turned about, intent on escape, when her feet twisted into her dress. She normally wasn’t clumsy, but this man made her so, always setting her off kilter.

One of his hands grabbed her waist while the other steadied her hand holding the wine. He soon had the glass out of her hand and safely on the nearby side table, then he was pulling her against his chest.

“Lord de Wolfe,” she rasped, pushing at his chest. His behavior was beyond forward. Worse still, his heat and strength were melting her into a puddle. She’d soon be powerless to resist.

“Hush,” he murmured. “I am only steadying you until you’ve calmed enough to walk up the stairs without hurting yourself. The past few days have taken more of a toll than you realize, I think.” He lightly massaged her waist. “My apologies if I’ve been too forward. You should concentrate on your brother.”

Dahlia closed her eyes again. The scent of his sandalwood soap, leather, and wood wrapped about her. He smelled absolutely intoxicating. Or was that the wine she’d consumed? “I believe I am quite out of sorts.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said close to her lips. So close that she caught the scent of brandy on his breath. “Your heart is racing in your chest.”

Gads. It was. And because she was pressed against him, he could feel every single throb of attraction that the man’s traitorous organ was announcing. Dahlia was in quite the mess. That would teach her to lie.

Gavin was aware of several things all at once. The first was that the lovely little Dahlia was just as attracted to him as he was to her. She was like a little fluttering bird atwitter with want.

The idea made him smile. He’d guess that smile was positively wolfish.

But either because of her brother, her late husband, or perhaps both, he was certain she was resisting that attraction and he had to respect that. He’d be concerned if she wasn’t. Hell, he’d had two years to recover from his loss and his attraction to Dahlia left him with gut-wrenching guilt. So he’d give her the space she needed. He’d waited this long to be with a woman, he could go a little longer.

He wanted a relationship of mutual benefit that ended amicably and quickly. The last of his observations was that she was unprepared for such an arrangement in this moment.

“Mrs. Greenwich, please allow me to escort you to your door. It has been a traumatic few days for you. I should not, in truth, have asked you to dinner. It was insensitive of me, but allow me to help you now.”

Dahlia licked her lips again, her pink tongue trailing along her top lips and he nearly groaned aloud. He was trying to do the right thing, but she was driving him mad. “Very well, I accept.”

He did not let go of her waist, rather, he kept his arm firmly about her, holding her hand in his other, and tucked her hip against his. He thought of the walk to his office earlier and how he’d practically sprinted ahead of her. He’d needed distance then, and in truth he should add some now. How he held her now was intimate and protective and deep in his chest something tightened. This was not just the physical reaction he’d been experiencing in her company. He was…worried for her.

Perhaps a brief affair as he first imagined was a bad idea after all. He was in danger of betraying Amelia’s memory. A day in her company and he was feeling…connected.

“I’ll have the tray sent up straight away and then I insist you go immediately to bed. You need the rest.” He gave her hip the smallest squeeze. This woman was the perfect combination of soft and trim. He ignored the desire this invoked in him, focusing instead on her pale features.

“I will,” she whispered, her lips trembling. “I don’t feel like myself at all.”

He narrowed his gaze and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, placing a hand on her forehead. “You’re quite warm.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. Just tired and…” Her voice trailed off and then she let out a loud sneeze.

He frowned. He should have ordered out of her wet clothes sooner. Bloody hell. “You are not. You may have caught a summer cold from being drenched by the rain for so long.” Without another word, he swept her into his arms just as he had the first night she’d arrived. Only now, everything was different. He was powerfully aware of her soft bosom and the curve of her hip as they pressed against his harder body.

She brought her hands to his neck. “My lord,” she started, aghast.

“Call me Gavin. I’ve now held you in my arms twice.” He pressed his cheek to her head and she was, truthfully, too warm. “And I assure you, I mean only to deposit you in your bed and then send Agnes to attend you. I’ll see to your brother’s care until tomorrow. You are to stay in bed.”

“But he needs me,” she protested.