The Infamous Rogue Read online

“You feel nothing?” he said roughly. “Not even this?”

  She swallowed a moan as he pressed his mouth hard over hers. Her resolve slowly weakened and she let him ravish her with his sinful lips.

  The energy thrumming through him filled her in return. She had missed the man’s dominant nature and robust vigor. The sensations welled inside her, a throbbing thirst.

  The rustle of distant voices wrenched her from the erotic encounter. She nicked him under the chin with the knife, drawing blood.

  He pushed her away and reached for his face. He touched the blood. His expression hardened.

  She stumbled backward, breathless. “Stay away from me, Black Hawk. If you try to foil my courtship with Maximilian, I’ll reveal your true identity; I’ll see you hang.”

  She tucked the short blade into the leather sheath between her breasts, where she always carried it. It had been a gift from James, the knife: a means of protection. Ironic that she now needed it to protect herself from him.

  Chapter 2

  James glared at the shapely figure skirting away. He reached for the wound on his chin and dabbed at the blood. One look at the dark stains smeared across his fingertips and his head throbbed, his limbs shuddered.

  He started after her.

  The pressure in his skull blinded him to the trumpery in the house. He moved through the elaborate passageways with brisk strides.

  She had cut him, the viper. Did she think he would just curl his tail between his legs and sod off? Not bloody likely.

  He reached the ballroom and scanned the frilly heads in search of Sophia. Blood pulsed through his veins; he could feel her stabbing stare. He glanced across the room, and bristled.

  She was brilliant under candlelight. The lambent glow kissed the thick curls of her deep brown hair, arranged in a neat and sophisticated swirl. He imagined the long locks wild, spilling across a stark white pillow. He remembered weaving his fingers through the knotty tresses, twisting them in his hands in a moment of profound ecstasy.

  His body thrummed with images from the past. He searched for the old Sophia under the layers of copper satin. The light played on the garment, giving it a lustrous sheen. Her clothes, her hair danced with life, but she…

  She was prim in manner, poised next to the earl. James knew her true nature, though. He knew the passion she was struggling to repress, the fury—at him—she wanted to stifle to better fit in with the reserved members of the aristocracy. He could see her measured movements: a tight smile, soft brows low, fingers curled together and set neatly against her midriff.

  Lies!

  It was all lies! She was only acting the part of the traditional, meek lady. He wanted to expose her, to hear the gasps of the ton as they discovered there was another impostor in their midst; that he was not the only outcast at the ball.

  He thundered toward her…but a hand grabbed him, dragged him back through the arched entranceway and into the quiet corridor.

  “Let me go,” James demanded.

  “Like hell.” William picked him over with his eyes. “Did you fall into the rosebushes and wrestle with the earl’s dogs?”

  With murder in his eyes, James growled, “I said release me.”

  “Not looking like a scoundrel. Where’s your cravat?”

  James fished for the blasted scrap of cloth in his pocket.

  “Give it here,” said William. He snatched the crisp material and set to work, lacing the noose around his brother’s throat once more. “What happened?”

  The thoughts in his head still spinning, James muttered an incoherent “She’s here.”

  William fixed his eyes on the cravat as he tweaked it. “Who’s here?”

  He inhaled a rich breath. “Sophia.”

  William paused. “Dawson’s daughter?”

  “The very one.”

  The one who had deserted him seven years ago without so much as a note of good-bye…only a ticking timepiece wishing him to everlasting hell.

  James gnashed his teeth at the dark memory.

  “What is she doing here?” said William.

  “Shopping for a husband…And she’s set her cap on our host, the Earl of Baine.”

  “Shit.” William glared at his brother with stern reproof. “Don’t cause a scandal, James.”

  “Watch me.”

  William threaded his arm through the captain’s and pinned him against the wall. “Think of Belle.”

  His sister’s agonized cries filled his soul, the haunting wails still fresh and stinging. James shuddered at the morbid memory. What was the matter with him? He had never lost control. And yet he had come so close to making a spectacular stir, disgracing himself and every member of his family.

  James took in a sharp breath. The fury surging through his bones weakened. William sensed it, too.

  “That’s better, James.” He loosened his hold. “I know you’re angry with Sophia, but you can’t disgrace Belle. If you create a fuss tonight, it’ll be in all the gossip papers.”

  With his unruly disposition back on kilter, James slowly headed for the ballroom doors again.

  William stopped him. “I said—”

  James pushed his brother against the wall and pressed his arm firmly under the man’s chin. “I heard you, Will. I won’t cause a scandal…but I’m not finished with Sophia yet.”

  He released his kin.

  William rubbed his neck, flush from the assault. “At least wipe the blood from your face,” he said hoarsely.

  James eyed his brother briefly before he rummaged for the kerchief in his pocket. He swiped at the last drops of blood on his chin, and then shoved the napkin back into his coat.

  After he had smoothed his hair and clothes to appear seamless, James stepped back over the threshold and once more searched for Sophia. He discovered her quickly; she was still with the earl. But two more ladies had joined their coterie.

  He fisted his palms. He could not walk up to the four and engage in conversation. He needed to be formally introduced to the party by a mutual acquaintance.

  James expressed a silent curse at the stupidity of the social custom before he turned to his brother. “Introduce me to the earl, Will.”

  William looked at him, dubious. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to greet our host. It’s the proper thing to do, isn’t it?”

  The lieutenant remained quiet about the captain’s sudden desire to respect social convention; however, his expression was clear: Behave according to the rules.

  The two men appeared in the entranceway together, looking composed. One would never think they had just engaged in a heated exchange.

  William started across the crowded ballroom first, James one step behind him.

  Sophia was quick to detect their approach. She narrowed her dark brown eyes on James, burning with warning. He dismissed her fiery stare and advanced with confidence.

  “Good evening, my lord,” said William.

  The earl returned the felicitation with a respectful “Good evening, Mr. Hawkins.”

  “I’d like to introduce my brother, Captain James Hawkins.”

  James was careful to keep his expression bland. “Lord Baine.”

  James had arrived late to the ball, so he had missed meeting the earl in the receiving line. He hadn’t even glanced at the lofty lord during the course of the evening, but now knowing he was Sophia’s intended groom, James regarded their host with the scrutiny of a pirate assessing his next target.

  The fop was young. Thirty, perhaps. Fair, with pale green eyes. He had a polished manner about him, a refined speech. Ghastly taste in wardrobe, though. The man’s brilliant green coat was a freakish blight.

  James struggled to keep his composure. Sophia had picked a dandy to be her mate: a posh and sophisticated and noble dandy—everything her former lover was not!

  “Might I introduce my sister, Lady Rosamond,” said the earl.

  The Hawkins brothers bowed.

  The petite woman with honey gold lo
cks curtsied. She eyed James with explicit interest. He might have been disarmed, even disgusted, by the overt gesture, but the heat stemming from Sophia attracted his senses, and distracted him from all other reflections.

  The earl gestured toward the older matron. “And this is Lady Lucas.” He then turned toward Sophia. “And her charge…Miss Dawson.”

  So that was how Sophia had seeped into the social folds of the aristocracy: she had hired a chaperone. However, James quickly dismissed the revelation from his mind.

  The colors in the room blurred together as he watched the way the earl looked at Sophia. It was a besotted look…a lover’s look.

  A throbbing pressure mounted in his skull. James glared at Sophia, searched her fine features for the truth: Had she already bedded the earl?

  Sophia’s eyes darkened. The rich brown pigment pooled with fury and deepened to a near shade of black. She had guessed his thoughts…and she appeared piqued at the crude suggestion.

  The throbbing pinch in his head weakened. The colors in the room brightened with distinction. She had not bedded the earl. James was familiar with that vexing look: the sort she offered whenever he had made a terrible blunder.

  Lady Lucas glanced from her ward to the captain. “Captain Hawkins.”

  With reluctance, he shifted his gaze to the matriarch. “Yes, my lady?”

  “Have you served in the Royal Navy for long?”

  James curled his fingers into his palms. “I have never served in the Royal Navy.”

  “Then are you not too ambitious in your choice of rank, sir?”

  James glanced at Sophia. She was stiff with apprehension. He was hard, too. Hard with indignation, for he had to confront yet another pompous female.

  “I captain my own vessel, Lady Lucas.”

  “I see,” she said with disdain.

  It was like eating sand, the ignominious repartee. But James burned with restless energy to be alone with Sophia. And to get to her, he would engage the condescending company.

  “It must be so dangerous at sea,” said the earl’s sister in a polished yet flirty manner. “Have you many adventures to speak of, Captain Hawkins?”

  “Very few, I’m afraid.” He swallowed the loathing he felt for her disingenuous regard. “But my ship is well armed, Lady Rosamond. No one gets the better of me.”

  Not even you, Sophia.

  The quick, dark glance James leveled at Sophia did not go unnoticed by his brother.

  “I must congratulate you on a successful evening, Lord Baine,” said William, steering the conversation toward steadier ground.

  James swallowed the distaste in his mouth before he formed his next words with tedious resolve. “Yes, the ballroom is a magnificent spectacle.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” returned the earl.

  “Lord Baine is accustomed to finery.”

  The harridan was quick to praise one man and slur the other. But James did not sour under the patronizing implication that he, a barbarian, was unfamiliar with good taste. He was much too engrossed with the tempting proximity of Sophia to submit to the vicious taunt.

  James lifted his hand. “Might I have the next dance, Miss Dawson?”

  Sophia’s eyes glowed. He wondered she had curbed her tongue thus far. The spirited wench wasn’t one to hold back her opinion—or her knife.

  But she had to keep her true nature a secret from the ton. She had to maintain an amiable smile. Not too broad, though. Perish the thought she should appear vulgar in public. And she had to keep her brows low. Heaven forbid she should raise them and express a fiery opinion or too intelligent a thought. She had to keep her hands firmly together, too. An air of modesty was of the utmost importance. Imagine the outcry from the other guests if she reached for her blade and carved out his throat—which he suspected she very much desired to do.

  He shuddered with disgust. Was this what she wanted from life? Was this why she had forsaken him seven years ago? To enter society and let a band of bloody nobs steal her spirit?

  “I’m afraid Miss Dawson is feeling unwell and cannot dance.” Lady Lucas fluttered her fan. “She needed air not a moment ago.”

  Air, indeed. She needed to slice his gullet.

  “Yes, the room is stuffy,” said Rosamond. “I must follow your example, Miss Dawson, and take a turn in the garden.”

  The young woman took a shaky step forward—and wobbled.

  Quickly Lord Baine sidestepped Lady Lucas as Sophia and William reached for Lady Rosamond, but it was too late to stop her tumble. She seemed to sink into James’s arms. He swiftly captured her wrist and steadied her before she dropped to the ground.

  “Mondie, my dear.” The earl patted her cheek. “Are you all right?”

  The young woman pressed her palm over her bust. “I was a bit dizzy, but I’m fine now…Thank you, Captain Hawkins.”

  “Yes, my sincere thanks, Captain Hawkins,” said the earl.

  James offered a curt nod before he placed his hands behind his back, uncomfortable with all the accolades for such a simple gesture.

  The matron slipped her arm around the girl’s spine. “Come and sit, my lady.”

  “Thank you, Lady Lucas…Max, we must thank the captain in a proper manner.”

  “Yes, of course. Please accept our invitation to a country house party, Captain Hawkins.”

  James refrained from snorting. He would sooner hang than mix with such tiresome, frivolous company. “Thank you, however—”

  “I insist,” said the earl. “You must allow me to express my gratitude in a fitting way; you must accept my hospitality. Mondie and I are hosting an intimate country house party next week. There will be a few other guests, including Lady Lucas and her charge.”

  James was about to decline the invitation again…but one look into Sophia’s murderous eyes told him she didn’t want him to attend the party.

  James offered his hand. “I’d be honored to accept the invitation, Lord Baine.”

  “Splendid!”

  Once more James fixed his eyes on Sophia. “I trust the garden air did you good, Miss Dawson.” He admired the rose pigment in her cheeks. She had blushed so rarely in the past: the blooming color aroused him. “You seem well recovered. Shall we dance?”

  He didn’t wait for her refusal, but took her by the elbow and steered her onto the dance floor.

  The harridan gasped.

  William groaned quietly.

  James dismissed their outrage. He slipped his arm around the arc of Sophia’s spine and grasped her hand. Every part of him pulsed with vigor to feel her plump and seductive curves in his arms once more.

  “Do you want to hang from the gallows…Black Hawk?”

  She had whispered the last part, indicating her intent to out him if he outed her. She had changed. She would never have threatened him in the past with betrayal. Her own father had been a pirate.

  But she wasn’t the same Sophia anymore, was she? She wanted to climb the social ladder. She wanted to be a countess. Why? She had enough riches to live like a queen. What did she want with pomp and presentation, the snobbery of the haute ton?

  “Do you really want me to hang?” He inhaled the tangy scent of her perfume: a sensuous citrus fragrance that reminded him of the island—and their heated affair. “A man tends to confess his sins when facing death. Would you like me to confess my sins, Sophia?” He dropped his lips to caress her ear with his breath. “Would you like me to reveal my transgressions…with you?”

  She shuddered. “You belong in hell, Black Hawk.”

  In subtle strokes, he rubbed the low knob at her spine. “With you at my side, sweetheart.”

  She let out a loud huff of air through her nose. “Why are you coming to the house party?”

  “I couldn’t refuse the invitation. It would have appeared rude.”

  “And you have to refrain from being rude? To protect your sister’s reputation?”

  “That’s right.”

  It sounded reasonable; there was no caus
e for her to doubt him. However, she did. He could tell by the way she narrowed her warm brown eyes on him. That fiery look meant she didn’t trust a single word he offered…and she had good reason to be wary. In truth, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do at the house party. But he wasn’t about to let the witch dismiss him from her life again, that much was for sure.

  The couple mixed with the other partners and moved to the swell of the music, but the stiff steps seemed so orchestrated, so restrained…unlike the slow and undulating movements of the erotic mento that they had danced on the island.

  James searched his memory for the appropriate ballroom dance steps. Sophia twirled alongside him with more grace, yet little concentration.

  The moment distracting, they bumped into another couple. After expressing an apology, the two twirled onward.

  “We’re making a spectacle of ourselves,” she hissed.

  “Shall we withdraw into the garden, then?”

  He started to direct their dance steps toward the door.

  She squeezed his hand. “If you drag me from the room, I will run you through with my knife.”

  He chuckled. She had the blood of her mother: a Portuguese wench with a fiery temper. Sophia possessed the ruthless heart of her pirate father, too.

  “Does the earl know he’s courting a viper?”

  “I’m not a viper.”

  He dropped his gaze to the deep swell of her bountiful breasts. He imagined the short blade tucked between the mounds of flesh, suffocating. He envied the blade. “You sliced my chin.”

  Little bumps of desire spread across the tops of her breasts. He quirked a smile in carnal satisfaction, pleased to observe her own growing hunger. She was not so immune to him as she wanted him to believe.

  Her voice was low, smoldering, “I only nicked it.”

  He inhaled a sharp breath at the sound of her husky voice. A pool of thoughts gathered in his head, sultry words whispered in passion: Touch me, James…deeper.

  He dismissed the erotic dream with a brisk shake. “Missed my gullet, did you?”

  She groused, “Unfortunately, yes.”

  Her lips whirred. He sensed the vibration, fixed his eyes on the full curve of her luscious mouth. So damn kissable. He had tasted her in the garden tonight. His every nerve pulsed with the memory…and one heated memory stirred others to potent life. Soon his flesh burned with the imprints of her lips. He had to bite back a groan as he remembered the cursed way she had brought him to come with her sinful mouth all those years ago.