Page 24 of The Rogue’s Countess

“I’m well aware of what you would expect in return, and I must reiterate what I said last night. You must prepare yourself for disappointment where I’m concerned.”

“Even if I believed I would fail in my intentions to have you in my bed, you will find it difficult to outmaneuver, my mother. Once she seizes upon an idea, she rarely abandons it.”

I have every confidence you shall find a way to dissuade Lady Wrotham, just as I’m confident you will fail in your attempt to seduce me,” Phoebe said coldly before she pointed to the folded London Times near his plate. “If you have no use for it, would you please hand me the paper?”

“I presume you wish to read the latest gossip to find an unsuspecting victim to hoodwink.” Irritated by her scorn, Gideon arched his eyebrow as he offered the paper.

Phoebe’s lips thinned with anger at his sardonic amusement, and once again, he was the recipient of a glare that would have inflicted deadly harm if her gaze were a weapon. Suddenly her mouth curved into a beguiling smile.

“Actually, I was curious as to when the next Currer Chronicles edition will be on the street. I would love to read more of Lord Chelmbee’s adventures as he buzzes to his next unsuspecting flower.”

Anger sliced through Gideon at her sweetly spoken jibe. He wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t enjoy being reminded of Currer’s mockery or the complacent expression of amusement that had replaced Phoebe’s disdain. With deliberation, he slowly shifted his position in his chair before standing up. Although her expression didn’t change, he saw her smile falter slightly as he kept his gaze locked with hers.

The moment he began to circle the table, her smile vanished, and a look of alarm swept across her lovely face. This time Gideon was the one with the smug smile. As she moved to rise from her seat, he quickly closed the distance between them to stand behind her. His hands pressed into her shoulders to keep her in her seat and prevent her escape. The shudder that vibrated off of her and into his hands made him laugh softly. Gideon bent over her, breathing in the faint smell of roses wafting off her skin.

His gaze drifted down to where her breasts were rising and falling at a rapid pace. The dark, narrow space between them made his mouth go dry at the thought of tasting her there before he worked his way down to the heat of her. A vivid image filled his head as he imagined her response as he pleasured her with his mouth. He wanted to hear her cry out his name until the white-hot heat of her flowed fast and tangy over his tongue.

The erotic image made his cock stir in his trousers as he brushed his mouth across her cheek. Phoebe gasped softly, and another tremor pulsed through her into his body. It caused a knot to form in his throat as he struggled not to roughly pull her out of her chair and into his arms. His mouth brushed across her soft, scented skin at the side of her neck, where he circled his tongue around the spot where her pulse was beating fast and furious.

Another whisper of sound escaped her, and he reveled in the way her body relaxed beneath his hands. Even though she was a social climber, she would be one of the most delightful creatures ever to enter his bed. He was certain of it. Gideon closed his eyes as he drank in her scent before pressing his lips to her ear.

“Lord Chelmbee is already cultivating his next flower, my sweet Phoebe. A flower he’ll enjoy picking when it’s in full bloom.”

“Oh, dear, God.”

Her whisper was so faint, Gideon wasn’t sure if he’d actually heard her speak or if his mind imagined what she was thinking. Behind him, the sound of his mother’s voice made him quickly step back from Phoebe and head toward the door leading to the hallway. Gideon paused in the breakfast room doorway to look back at Phoebe. She was sitting rigid in her chair, staring straight ahead as if she were a statue. He called out her name softly, and she jerked her head toward him.

“I told you I enjoy a challenge, Phoebe. I believe this round is mine.” Satisfaction sailed through Gideon as he saw her grow pale, and her eyes widened just before he turned away and left the room.

His stride filled with energy, Gideon experienced a rush of satisfaction flooding his limbs as he made his way upstairs. Phoebe had clearly been aroused by his touch. If they’d been in a locked room, he would have had her beneath him the moment he’d locked the door. The image of taking her on the floor in the most hedonistic manner possible was an arousing one.

By the time he was done with her, Phoebe would feel the same torment he’d endured in the months following the passion they’d shared five years ago. The memory of the sleepless nights that had followed those few short moments in a moonlit garden and how she’d haunted his dreams ever since wasn’t something he enjoyed admitting.

Despite the reluctant confession, it didn’t make him any less determined to have her in his bed while denying her the title she obviously craved. The woman would regret ever having crossed the Atlantic in search of a title. A quiet voice in the back of his head protested his condemnation of Phoebe.

Moments ago, she’d grown pale as her eyes had widened with alarm. It had brought to mind the memory of her five years ago, fragile, frighten, and in need of protection. The moment the thought filled Gideon’s head, he crushed it as he remembered the anger that had exploded inside him when he’d discovered Phoebe was one of the American Dollar Princesses. Even worse was the devastating disillusion and disappointment that had accompanied his anger.

It had prompted him to visit Whitechapel in search of a bare-knuckle street fight. Gideon had been fortunate the man running the fight had chosen to put him in a hack and send him home, albeit half-dead. In the days that followed, he had argued savagely with himself as to whether he should call on Phoebe at Helstone Place.

A part of him had wanted to coldly denounce her for the social climber she was, while another part had debated how best to bring her to her knees until she was in his bed. He’d done neither, although he’d come close to doing so several weeks after their meeting. Then his great-grandmother had died, and he’d spent almost an entire year in Lichtenberg managing the large sum of wealth his great-grandmother had bequeathed to him. Only a month after he’d returned from Lichtenberg, he was left reeling from Thomas’s death.

He’d thrown himself into comforting his grieving mother and filling his days with his new responsibilities. Thoughts of Phoebe had been regulated to the back of his mind during the daylight hours. But his nights had been hellish ones. Sleepless nights and dreams of their bodies entwined. When Helstone had been murdered, Gideon had considered going to her. Instead, he’d told himself that she could lie in a bed of her own making.

The real reason had been altogether different. Deep inside, Gideon had known it would have taken little effort on Phoebe’s part to bring him to heel until he’d made her his countess. The idea of tying himself to a woman who’d married him solely for his wealth and title was the last thing he would ever do.

Gideon grimaced at the memory. Nothing had changed in that respect. He still had no intention of granting her the title, Countess of Chelmsford. She was unworthy of being his countess. However, the role of mistress would suit her quite well.

§ § §

Phoebe pressed her hand to her stomach in an effort to quell the butterflies, frantically alerting her to the danger she was in. She closed her eyes for a moment and stiffened as she heard Lady Wrotham return to the dining room. As the woman sat down, Phoebe forced a smile to her lips. Curiosity flashed across Alva’s face as she glanced at Gideon’s empty seat. Without prompting, Phoebe offered an explanation.

“I believe Lord Chelmsford said something about going to his club.” She didn’t have any idea where Gideon had gone, but her reply seemed a logical one. As long as he wasn’t near her, she was safe.

“I had hoped he would have stayed simply to chat for a little while,” Lady Wrotham said as a sly expression stole over her face. “What did you and Gideon discuss while I was away.”

“We spoke very little, although I have discovered he loathes P. Currer.” Phoebe allowed a small smile to touch her lips as she took a drink of tea. The dowager marchioness laughed gleefully at Phoebe’s comment and nodded.

“Yes, I learned that the first time I referenced his prominence in the publication.” Lady Wrotham laughed again. “Tell me, are you one of the flowers who escaped Lord Chelmbee’s penchant for buzzing about.”