A Rogue for Christmas

Chapter 6

6

Perdita wrapped the edges of her cloak tightly about her body to keep it from showing around the base of the large tree she hid behind. Throwing a snowball at Vaughn had been far too great a temptation to resist. She liked to see him ruffled and caught off guard. He seemed more real and a little less like the rogue from a schoolgirl’s forbidden daydreams. Not that she minded that side of him, but she longed to see the real Vaughn, not the façade he showed to the rest of the world.

Once she’d thrown that snowball, she knew he would seek revenge, no doubt in a wicked way that would leave her breathless and shaky. So she’d turned tail and fled to make the chase much more rewarding for them both.

She should have chosen her white cloak rather than the red, but she had so loved the contrast of red against the snow.

And now I shall pay for it.

Far ahead of her, she could see the young men in their quest for the perfect Yule log. They needed something large that would burn for twelve days. It wasn’t really possible to find a log that large, but men loved to challenge each other over silly things like that.

Perdita turned her focus back to the forest. She closed her eyes, taking in the sounds around her. The chatter of the blue t**s and the occasional snap and creak of frozen branches were the only noises she could detect. She opened her eyes, wondering where Vaughn had gone, or if he had moved at all. As she peered around the tree, she almost expected to see him close by, ready to pounce. Nothing. The forest was empty as far back as the path that led to the house.

Where the devil had he gone? She turned back to the woods and screamed. Vaughn had somehow gotten around her! Her heart leapt into her throat at the sudden unexpected sight. He pushed her flat against the tree and clamped one gloved hand over her mouth.

“You left your delectable behind unguarded, sweeting.” The tsk he gave was gentle and wicked, just as his smile was in that moment. He pressed his body against hers, his hips against her stomach. She’d never felt so small and vulnerable as she did at that moment. It should have scared her. Any young lady in a similar position would have been terrified, but Vaughn holding her captive like a dark winter forest god set fire to her blood.

I am as wicked as he is. The realization was buried beneath a rush of sensations as Vaughn removed his hand from her mouth and kissed her. It was a ruthless sort of kiss, one that marked her, conquered her, and reminded her that she belonged to him—yet not in the way a man like Milburn would. Vaughn didn’t own her, and he certainly didn’t want to break her. But in this forest, surrounded by the snow and the silence, he owned her very soul for briefest heartbeat of a stolen kiss.

“You are clever,” he whispered in her ear. “But not quick enough, I’m afraid. Shall I punish you here?” He swept one hand beneath her cloak to cup her bottom. Her body burned at the touch, even as she wondered what sort of punishment he might inflict.

“Please, Vaughn,” she murmured, not sure what she was pleading for. She placed her gloved hands on his shoulders and dug her fingers in, holding on to him. He tilted her head up by placing his fingers under her chin.

“Oh, the things I could do to you…” His eyes raked over her before settling on her lips. “But I believe a kiss is what you deserve.” He removed his hand from beneath her chin and bit the tips of his gloved fingers, tugging the leather off his skin. He let the glove fall into the snow beside them.

“Yes, please kiss me.” Her gaze fixed on his mouth as she encouraged him. He had the most perfect lips, ones that were soft, warm, and sensual. The kind that drifted along her bare skin and melded with her own lips and seemed to erase the world around them until nothing else existed.

“Lift your skirts,” he growled in a dark and demanding tone.

She shivered and whispered back, “What? Why?”

Vaughn arched a brow in a way that she was coming to recognize—that she was treading on dangerous ground by questioning him. A lady who asked him to explain his seductions might end up with more than she expected. Vaughn had mentioned s******g once before. The idea had startled her at first, but his idea of a love pat was not one of cruelty or abuse but of pleasure. The thrill of thinking of him smacking his hand lightly on her bottom was undeniably erotic, and she wanted to experience it.

“Lift them now and ask me to kiss you, darling.” His voice was now low and smooth. “If you do it properly, I’ll reward you. Fail and I will punish your darling little bottom. I don’t care if I must bend you over my lap in the snow for all to see.”

Her heart hammered while she glanced around, afraid someone would see them. “But…”

His hand caught her chin, making her focus on him again. “No one will see us, darling. The men are too far off.” He swung his cloak over her left side, shielding her from anyone who might see them from that direction. “Now, raise your skirts and ask me for a kiss. And when you do, you will call me my lord.”

The confident set of his body as he moved back, giving her room to raise her skirts, was almost as infuriating as it was exciting. Perdita clutched her skirts and hiked them up, revealing her underpinnings. The cold air hit her legs and made her shiver.

“Please kiss me…” She hesitated, and her lashes lowered for a moment, but only a moment. “My lord.”

“Impertinent little creature. But that will do, for now.” His condescending tone made her bristle.

But she didn’t have time to reply. He swooped down on her, capturing her mouth in his. She nearly dropped her skirts, but his bare hand was suddenly between her thighs. He didn’t slip his fingers into her, not like he had in the library. He only touched the sensitive nub at the top of her mound. He pressed on it, then moved the pad of his finger in small circles over it.

She shivered and tried to wriggle away. It was too sensitive, made worse in the outdoor chill, but he gripped her throat with his other hand—not squeezing but holding her still in a gentle but possessive grip. She was a prisoner of his delicious torment. Arching her back, Perdita knew she had to surrender to him, and in that moment she wanted to.

His tongue traced the fullness of her lips as she kissed him back hungrily. His mouth was urgent, exploring and demanding. It was everything she loved about him.

The realization sent a jolt of sensations down her body to meet his fingertips between her thighs. She wanted to belong to him, to be the only woman who ever knew his dark side, one that matched her own.

We are twin souls curled around one another, always straining for that next kiss, that next lingering caress stolen at the right moment.

Her body shook as pleasure rolled through her. She leaned back against the tree, Vaughn’s cloak shielding her as the ripples of pleasure continued to flow through her. He teased her a few seconds more before he withdrew his hand and let her skirts fall back into place. He pulled his lips away from hers. They were close in body, but in that moment, she felt there was no distance between them at all. They could have been one being, one beating heart and soul.

When Vaughn’s lips curved into a smile this time, there was no wickedness to it, only a boyish delight. Her heart turned over at the sight. The cool intensity of his gaze was gone. She was seeing that secret part of him she’d longed for. It was as though she’d wandered into an old attic and come upon a portrait covered in old curtains. She’d pulled away the faded fabric, and as the dust cleared, sunlight from a high window illuminated the hidden face painted in oil just for her.

It was her own private moment, one she would never have to share with the rest of the world. A piece of him that belonged to her, if only at this moment in her memory. The dreamy intimacy of it held them both spellbound.

Vaughn leaned in slowly this time, and his next kiss was sweet, soft, yet deep. His lips lingered and coaxed hers into a slow, playful dance that seemed to go on forever. She twined her arms around him, caressing the back of his neck, making him tremble when she reached a sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulders.

“What in the blazes are you doing to me?” he murmured. The confusion in his voice was soft and sweet, making her smile against his mouth.

“Me? It is you who has me bewitched,” she responded.

“Then we are both under some sort of spell.” He brushed his gloved hand over her cheek before he dropped his cloak from her body and bent to pick up his discarded glove. She had to let go of him, and her arms felt empty without him.

Vaughn cleared his throat. “We should catch up with the others before we are missed.” He put his glove back on and then held out his hand to her. She took it, and they began the long walk into the woods to find the other men.

The rest of the party was deep into the woods by the time they found them. They had discovered a log they all agreed would be perfect as the Yule log.

“Ho there, Darlington. Care to give the beast a good whack? We’re just about through.” One of the young men held up a sizable ax and pointed its blade at the fallen log.

“I suppose.” Vaughn removed his cloak and tossed it at the young man before he claimed the ax.

Perdita stepped back, as did the others, giving Vaughn room enough to swing.

He wielded the ax as though he’d been a woodsman to some ancient medieval queen. The silver blade arced through the air and sank into the wood with a heavy thunk! The trunk broke in four hard swings, and he moved four feet down its length to separate it again from the ragged base next to the stump.

“Is that enough, do you think?” he asked.

“I believe so,” one of the men replied. Four others bent to lift the Yule log and begin the burdensome process of carrying it home. Vaughn went to retrieve his cloak, and another young man engaged him in conversation.

Perdita wished to join him, but such an intrusion might seem rude.

“So, you and Darlington are engaged?” Milburn’s cold voice made Perdita jolt. He caught her from behind by the arm, squeezing hard, and she was rooted to the ground with him holding her in front of him, her arm twisted behind her back. If he twisted it much farther, it would break. Pain radiated up from her elbow, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

“Unhand me. You’re hurting me,” she hissed.

Milburn ignored her. “I spent four months playing friends with that old fool you call your father, and now you accept another man in your bed? I will not stand for this. Don’t forget what I told you. I can turn over my evidence to the magistrate anytime I wish. If I do, he’ll be facing imprisonment or worse.”

Perdita’s tongue seemed to swell, and her throat choked with fear. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Then I suggest you come to your senses and tell Darlington to break it off. Otherwise, your father will pay for your stubbornness.”

Milburn’s threat was so different from Vaughn’s. Vaughn had punished her with kisses and with pleasure. Milburn was a coward and a cruel beast who simply wanted to control her every action. Despite her fear, rage came roaring to the surface. She had to fight him. If he won now, like this, she’d never be free.

“Unhand me now or I will scream. Then you will be forced to explain to these gentlemen here what you were doing.” She spun to face him, her hood falling off her head. “You may frighten every other woman in London, but not me.”

She jerked her arm free of his startled grasp, and then she leaned close. “I could not break my engagement with him even if I wished to.” It was a lie, but she hoped Milburn would believe it. “Lord Darlington won’t give me up, not for anything. If you harm me or my family, you will face his wrath. Never forget that,” she hissed. “Speak to me like that again, and I will have you chased off my property by the dogs until your feet are sore and blistered.” She kept a steady stare at him, the way one would at a dangerous animal, before she turned and strode off.

Politeness be damned—she was going to join Vaughn. Her temper had only just covered the swell of fear inside her at Milburn’s actions. To grab her and threaten her like that? He was bolder in his intentions than she ever could’ve guessed, and far more dangerous than she’d wanted to believe.

She had hoped her false engagement to Vaughn would deter him. That clearly wasn’t the case. She hadn’t overestimated Vaughn, but she had underestimated Milburn. He wasn’t afraid to use his supposed evidence to destroy her father. What was she going to do? She tried to convince herself that his actions were only because the wound to his pride was still fresh. Perhaps in time he would lose interest. This plan had to work, or else everything would fall apart.

Vaughn turned at her approach, his mask of cool aloofness on his handsome face.

“Miss Darby.” He bent his head in polite greeting, and the other gentleman did the same. “Is everything all right?”

She painted a false smile on her lips. “Yes.” She knew if she told Vaughn what had happened, he might use the ax he still held to chop Milburn into pieces. As appealing as the idea was right then, she couldn’t allow that to happen.

“Are you cold? I offer myself as an escort back to the house.” He provided his arm gallantly in front of the other men.

She nodded and slipped her arm through his. “Thank you.” He handed the ax back to the others, and they started to walk back. Milburn was nowhere to be seen at first, but then she spied him a dozen yards away, talking to his companion. It didn’t reassure her. She had a terrible feeling that Samuel Milburn was not going to back down.