To Want a Rogue

The man’s head fell back, blood gushing from his nose. Gavin didn’t give him a chance to recover before he was on him again, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him out the door. “Lock it behind me,” Gavin yelled sharply, not looking back at her.

“Gavin, wait,” she called but he didn’t listen as he continued dragging the other man out the door and down the hall.

This time, Dahlia did as he asked, but her fingers trembled as she worked the lock. The attack wasn’t what frightened her. She was fairly certain it had been a theatrical performance. More, it was Gavin’s reaction. He was afraid to marry. Afraid he’d be hurt again. And what had she done? Forgotten to lock the door for her own safety. How could she have been so foolish? Would he retract his offer now?

Gavin was going to kill the man. He continued to drag him down the steps, the thump of his back along the hardwood most satisfying.

He wasn’t going to actually commit murder. But he was tossing him out the door. Let him sleep in the woods for the night.

He knew one thing, seeing Nearbottom touch Dahlia like that had awoken a side of him he’d thought long dead. He loved Dahlia with a fierceness he couldn’t imagine and he’d do anything to keep her safe.

And that included beating the spit out of filthy earls. “You will rue the day you came here,” he growled, pulling Nearbottom’s face close to his. Nearbottom was gripping Gavin’s wrist with both hands, trying but failing to right himself.

“I already do,” he choked out. “Please. I’m sorry. I thought you needed a lesson and this was a fun way to go about it.”

“Fun? Lesson?” Gavin gave him another good yank. “Unfortunately for you I do not need your lessons or find you amusing. As soon as I get you outside, I’m going to show you exactly how irritating I found your attack on my future wife.”

Making it to the bottom of the stairs, Gavin hauled him toward the front door. They’d reached the rug when he heard the distinct sound of water.

Stopping, he turned back to Nearbottom, catching the stench of piss. His nostrils curled up. Bloody hell. There’d be no saving the carpet now. “You’re reimbursing me for the rug.”

“Yes…yes…please,” Nearbottom begged. “I didn’t mean any harm. I got carried away. I—ack.”

Gavin wrenched open the door and tossed him onto the granite steps. “Sleep well.” Then, pulling out the rug, he tossed it after him, landing with a solid thwap on top of Nearbottom. “It’ll help keep you warm.”

Slamming the door shut, he heard a number of titters from the top of the stairs. “If I find any of you out of your chambers again, you’ll join Nearbottom on the steps!”

Footfalls scattered as silence enveloped his house, which was almost disappointing. He twisted his neck, giving it a crack. He would have enjoyed tossing a few more people out.

Stalking back up the stairs, he made his way back to Dahlia’s room. He tried the knob but this time, she’d locked it. He gave a hard knock. “Open the door. It’s me.” A moment later the lock twisted and the door creaked open.

Dahlia stood before him, her hair a mass about her shoulders, her chest heaving, her lips trembling. “I didn’t mean to leave the door unlocked. I’m so sorry.”

She was apologizing to him? Why? He stepped into the room and pulled her against his body. “I should apologize to you for letting that filthy piece of vermin remain in this house.”

She drew in a ragged breath. “I should have listened to you. I know how you feel about losing your first wife. I was silly and foolish and—”

He reached for her, pulling her against him and dropped his mouth to hers. “Nonsense. You are smart, sensitive, and understanding.” He gave her a long slow kiss. “Next time you’ll be in my bed and I’ll lock the door myself.”

In fact, he had every intention of being in her bed now. He’d just realized that she was his heart. That in fact, he didn’t want to be without her, even for a moment. How could he have ever thought he could remain detached from her?

Something had shifted in Gavin. He’d always seemed a bit dangerous to her, though no longer in a way that frightened her. More of a breathless excitement that filled her whenever he was near. But now, he hummed with an energy that made her blood sing.

“In your bed?” she managed to say between kisses. He was clad in a shirt and breeches and she in a night rail, which allowed her to feel every rippling muscle of his chest and stomach. Her nipples hardened in response.

He must have felt them because he brought his hand up to cup one of her breasts, his thumb massaging the stiff peak until she moaned in pleasure.

“Dahlia,” he groaned. “I need…” He began moving both of them backwards. “To touch you, love.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant. Weren’t they already touching? But she no longer cared. “Yes.” The back of her legs hit her bed.

Lifting her, he lay her down on the bed, his weight pressing against hers. Her legs naturally spread to allow him closer as she wrapped her arms about his neck. She could feel the hard press of his staff as she shifted, and a tingling sensation radiated from her core, causing her to shake.

He moved again, rotating his hips as she gasped. He reached for her hem, pulling the garment up her thighs so that the night rail pooled at her hips. And then he brushed his fingers along her seam.

Her insides spasmed in pleasure as she gripped his neck with taut fingers. He retraced the path again and again until the pleasure inside her threatened to explode. She held onto him, mumbling inane pleas until suddenly she broke apart, lights dancing before her closed eyes. He understood and his hand slowed.

“My love.” He kissed a trail along her chin. When had he started to call her his love? “I can hardly wait to see and feel all of you.”