Page 23 of The Rogue’s Offer

Chapter 6

Desire pounded its way through Mathias as he tasted the sweetness of Ophelia’s lips. It had been years since a woman had tempted him the way Ophelia did. Inside his trousers his cock was hard and tight with arousal. At the moment, the exercise he’d commanded of her was wreaking havoc with his body. His hands left the softness of her face to pull her close to him. She came willingly, her body pliant against his.

As her lips parted slightly in a soft mewl, he took advantage of the fact to tangle his tongue with hers. Honey had never tasted as sweet. Her response to his kiss was tentative at first, but the instant he deepened their caress she responded eagerly. The subtle scent of strawberries filled his nostrils as she pressed her body deeper into his. His mouth slid away from hers to caress its way down her neck to the base of her throat.

The soft sigh whispering out of her silently gave him permission to continue downward until his mouth encountered the edge of her bodice. A primitive urge to rip the material aside and give him access to her full breasts fired his blood. Instead, he restrained the savage sensation and focused his attention on her neck, nibbling at the spot where her pulse fluttered wildly. Without any real presence of mind, he roughly caught her hand and pressed it against the hardness of his erection. She gasped as he forced her hand to slide over his hard length and his teeth gently bit her sweetly curved ear lobe.

“For a woman who doesn’t believe she can arouse a man’s passion, I think this proves otherwise.” Mathias heard the harsh note in his voice as he dragged in a deep breath in an attempt to quash the desire raging through his limbs.

Their eyes met and there was a sultry look about her that made him wish he’d ordered Jacobs to drive them to Thornberry Place instead of the restaurant. He wanted to quench his need for her until he could easily let her walk away into another man’s arms. The sudden image of Chelmsford pushed its way into his thoughts at the same time an oddly familiar emotion snaked through him.

“Mathias?”

The sound of his name passing from her lips sounded more like a soft prayer than a question as her mouth brushed against his. The light, tentative, caress of her fingers against his thigh made him stiffen. Christ Almighty, what the hell was he thinking? He wasn’t a wet behind the ears school boy. He’d promised to transform her into a creature desired by men, not to become one of them prostrating at her feet. The last time he’d been foolish enough to do such a thing it had crushed not only his heart, but his pride as well.

In an abrupt move, he lifted her off his lap and set her back on the seat opposite him. He quickly suppressed the need to pull her back into his arms. Refusing to act on the urge, he quickly raised the shades over the carriage windows. The action did nothing to alleviate the disappointment crashing through him. Despite his best intentions he was finding her far more enticing than he wanted to. Clearing his throat he met her troubled gaze.

“Forgive me, Ophelia. I used you badly just now. I said I wouldn’t throw you to the wolves again, only to act like one myself.”

If he hadn’t been watching her so closely he would have missed the way she flinched at his statement. Before he could speak, her expression changed to one of self-deprecating amusement.

“But your tutoring is clearly proving to be successful. We’ve now confirmed I’m more than able to make a man desire me physically.”

“But?” He eyed her closely as she looked away from him.

“I doubt I’m capable of indulging in a frivolous affair.” Her words triggered the memory of the past and how Miriam had said something similar.

“So it’s a husband you want,” he said with disillusion. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than her eyes widened with horror.

“Dear Lord, no,” she exclaimed before her features became solemn and unreadable. “I will never marry again.”

“Never?” He eyed her with a touch of cynicism. “It’s hard to believe any woman would reject the proposal from the right man.”

“I am not like other women. I have no intention of ever becoming a possession again.” Ophelia’s lips had thinned with inflexible determination. “I have my home back and a small stipend Edgar cannot touch. I will never sacrifice my independence again for a husband.”

His thoughts flashed back to the few minutes he’d spent with her father. The man had clearly been seeking to pin Mathias down as to the possibility of a match between them. The baron would no doubt expect something in return for handing his daughter over to another man. Disgusted by the way the men in Ophelia’s life had treated her, remorse gnawed at him. Was he really any better than her husband or father? The answer didn’t please him. Unwilling to examine his own complicity in the manner of her treatment, he shook his head.

“Not all men are like Havenstock. And for that matter, not all fathers use their daughters as collateral to clear their debts.” His observation made her jerk slight as her body straightened and pressed rigidly against the carriage cushions.

“Perhaps, but I’ve never met a man willing to give his wife control of her own destiny.”

“I disagree. You know at least two men of that ilk. I happen to know full well that the Rockwood men treat their wives as partners not subjects under their control. In fact, I’ve also seen Lord Lyndham defer to Constance in matters that affect them both. He asks her opinion.”

“Three men out of thousands does little to fortify your argument,” she said in a cool, detached fashion. “If anything, it supports mine because the Rockwoods have always been a law unto themselves.”

The obstinate note in her voice told Mathias it was pointless to argue with her. Immediately on the heels of that thought he remembered her remark about her stipend. The implication that another man was trying to control her made him stiffen with outrage.

“Who’s Edgar?” At his sharply-edged question, Ophelia’s eyes widened in surprise before her shoulders rolled in a movement that barely passed for a shrug.

“George’s son. He controls the bulk of the estate.”

“Controls?” At his question he saw her hesitate before she looked out the carriage window.

“George left the majority of my share of the estate in Edgar’s control. But I have an allowance to do with as I wish.”

Her expression almost concealed her emotions, but he saw anger in the set line of her mouth. Something about her reply made him frown. When Ophelia had protested the expense of Sabine’s work, he’d realized her clothing budget was more than likely to be much smaller than most of Sabine’s customers.

The well-worn appearance of her parlor had further emphasized her finances were not as deep as most of his friend’s clients, which included members of the royal family. It was why he’d ask Sabine to charge Ophelia what a far less skilled dressmaker would then bill him for the remainder.