Untamed Rogue, Scandalous Mistress

‘This is good,’ Crispin said between mouthfuls. ‘There’s nothing like hot stew on a cold night.’

Aurora watched him thoughtfully throughout the meal. He ate much like regular people ate, people who were conscious of the cost of food and the effort it took to prepare a meal. He used a piece of bread to sop up the remaining stew, making sure not a spoonful went to waste in his bowl. It was odd to think of him as a man who knew hunger, who knew of the simple things it took to survive the day when he could have chosen otherwise. His brother’s table was always set with plenty.

Aurora had not meant to pry, but the question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. ‘What do you do, Crispin? I mean, where have you been for three years?’

Crispin set down his bread crust and fixed her with his sharp gaze, a small smile playing at his lips. ‘How badly do you want to know?’

Aurora smiled back, recognising the game afoot. ‘Ah, so it’s to be twenty-questions?’

‘Precisely. I’ll answer your questions, but you need to answer mine.’ Crispin reached for another slice of bread and buttered it.

‘I work for the British government when they have need of me. Before that, I used to be in the cavalry. I found I didn’t enjoy the life of a half-pay soldier. It was too dull for me. I saw some action in the early twenties after Napoleon’s defeat. But then my regiment came home and I spent far too much time being Dursley’s brother.’ Crispin swallowed some ale. ‘There wasn’t much to do as Dursley’s brother, as you can imagine. Peyton doesn’t need any help and, frankly, I’d rather be my own man. I didn’t relish the idea of being defined as the “spare”. I was at a loose end. So, Peyton introduced me to some friends at the Foreign Office and off I went to look after British interests abroad.’

‘Where did you go?’ Aurora asked, feeling as if she’d been told everything and yet nothing.

Crispin winked across the table. ‘Princess, I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’

‘You were a spy?’ she asked evenly, deciding to push the boundaries of his disclosure.

‘More like the government’s best-kept secret,’ Crispin corrected with equal seriousness. ‘Suffice it to say that I’ve been places that don’t exist on maps. I wasn’t responsible for the kind of diplomacy that goes on in the glittering mansions of Vienna.’ He drew a deep breath and steered the conversation away from himself. ‘Now, it’s your turn. Where did you learn to ride?’

‘Ireland,’ Aurora said shortly. She’d expected a question along that vein, but, like Crispin, she wasn’t ready to divulge all the details. ‘Now, as for my next question—’ she began, leaning forwards on her elbows. But Crispin had no qualms about interrupting a lady.

‘No, Aurora, finish your answer,’ Crispin said shortly, arms crossed over his chest. ‘You have to say more than that. Where in Ireland? I saw you jumping this morning when I came to get Sheikh. No one rides the way you do without extensive training.’

He had been watching. She’d thought she’d glimpsed someone at the entrance to the arena, thought she’d felt his presence. When no one had materialised, she’d chalked it up to silliness on her part. Of course no one could really feel another person’s presence.

‘I lived near Curragh in County Kildare. My father was head groom to a wealthy family.’

‘You don’t have an accent,’ Crispin said pointedly as if judging the truth of her answer.

‘Accents can be bred out of you.’ Among other things. Once upon a time there’d been such hopes for her, thanks to the status of her mother’s family. A moment of foolishness had dashed those hopes. Aurora rose from her bench and began collecting the dishes. The conversation was heading in a direction she was distinctly uncomfortable with. There were things Crispin didn’t need to know about her. Those things could make no difference now. She’d negotiated her own peace with the past and accepted the consequences of her decisions, as lonely and as costly as they were.

She reached to take Crispin’s bowl, but his hand shot out and his fingers closed around her wrist. ‘Why did you invite me here, Aurora? You won’t tell me anything about yourself, so, clearly, getting to know each other was not the purpose.’

Aurora tried to pull away, but his grip held firm. ‘You’re hardly the epitome of a forthcoming gentleman,’ she replied tartly. ‘You can’t or won’t tell me anything about yourself either.’

‘Perhaps that gives us something in common.’ Crispin’s voice was husky. ‘Two people with mysterious lives.’ His eyes moved to her mouth and back to her eyes.

Aurora’s temper rose. ‘Did you come here to seduce me?’

Crispin laughed softly. ‘How could I do that? I had no idea I was coming to dinner until you invited me.’ Silence rose between them. Aurora was acutely aware of the crackle of the fire, of the light drum of rain on the roof, of the intimate play of firelight on her walls, the only light in the room.

Crispin released her wrist and ran the back of his knuckles gently down the side of her cheek, skimming it low where cheek met jaw line. ‘Would it be so bad if I did?’

‘Did what?’ Aurora’s concentration waned, heat surging in her belly at the stroke of his hand against her cheek. She could not delude herself now. She had not asked him here for Kildare. She’d asked him here for herself.

‘Seduced you, hmm?’ His tone was languorous. He shifted on the bench, straddling it to draw her down to him. She went willingly, cognisant of her growing need. She’d been alone too long. It had been ages since she’d taken a lover. No one had compelled her. Even the ones that had were few and their appearances in her life had been irregular at best. Men were a luxury she could not afford. They’d shown themselves to be fickle companions on the path she trod.

Why not play his game a while? It’s just one night and he’s already said he’s not planning to stay around. It won’t upset your plans, a wicked voice in her head prompted. It was the perfect night for love, or what temporarily passed for it: English rain on the roof, a fire in the fireplace, a handsome man who knew the rules of this sort of engagement, a man whose hot kisses in the road had already proven he was a master of pleasure, a man who was the master of his own destiny just as she was of hers.

Crispin’s lips replaced his hand against her cheek. He trailed a line of gentle kisses to her mouth where all gentleness ended. Intuitively, he seemed to know she would not tolerate being seduced. Seduction implied that she was somehow not an equal participant in the activity, that she needed to be led. Aurora revelled in the aggressive action of his mouth on hers.

She pulled his shirt loose from the waistband of his trousers and pushed the linen up, her hands running underneath the fabric, caressing the expanse of chest beneath the cloth. The man felt magnificent, all sculpted muscle beneath her fingertips.

He gave an appreciable shudder as her hands ran over his nipples. ‘Perhaps I should be asking you the question. Did you invite me here to seduce me?’ Crispin said.

Aurora gave a throaty laugh and repeated his earlier words. ‘Would it be so bad if I did?’

‘No,’ Crispin breathed against her neck. ‘It wouldn’t be bad at all.’

But Aurora had no illusions about being in charge of the seduction. Crispin Ramsden was very clearly a man used to being in charge. He would let her participate; in fact, he gave every indication so far of liking a partner who was actively involved, but he would call the shots. Still, Aurora thought she’d see just how far she could go before he rebelled.

She shifted back on the bench and stood up, tugging on the neck of his shirt. He had little choice but to rise and follow her. Once on his feet, Aurora tugged him closer, pressing a full-mouthed kiss on his lips. She reached a hand between them to the front of his breeches. Her own aroused state grew at the feel of him, hard and ready behind the cloth.

‘God, Aurora,’ Crispin growled at the intimate contact. He propelled her backwards until she made contact with the wall. He grabbed both her hands and raised them over her head, manacling them in position with his strong grip. His eyes were dark and wild now, his hair erotically loose about his shoulders. There was an immediacy to his actions that warned Aurora they weren’t going to make it to the bed. He was going to take her rough and fast against the wall.

A tremor of anticipation, of pleasure at the very thought of his impending actions, surged through her, firing her passion. The core of her was weeping already. She rattled her arms beneath his grip, wanting her hands free to touch him, to push his shirt off his shoulders, to drag his pants down his hips.

‘Not yet, my impatient one.’ Crispin was all seductive huskiness. His free hand deftly slipped the buttons of her shirt free. He pushed the folds of her shirt aside, only momentarily foxed by the presence of her thin chemise. He would have to let her arms go now, she thought gleefully. But Crispin surprised her. He bent his mouth to the chemise and held a bit of it between his teeth and ripped with his hand. The fabric gave easily, releasing her breasts to Crispin’s hot gaze. He cupped them, one at a time, his breath coming in gratifying rasps. His arousal was full and complete. Only then did he release her arms, letting her work the fastenings of his trousers as he worked hers.

Aurora kicked out of her breeches, feeling his naked member brush against her thigh as she did so. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, so intense was her longing. It was time. Her body knew it was time. No part of her wanted to wait a moment longer. Crispin was lifting her, his hands fitted beneath her buttocks. She wrapped her legs about his waist, gripping his shoulders for balance. Crispin took her weight easily.

‘Oh, God, you’re so ready.’ Crispin’s member teased at her entrance, testing, planning its entry. She moved slightly, forcing him inside, taking all of him without a qualm. He slid deeply. For a moment, Aurora savoured the feeling of fulfilment his presence brought. Then he began the exquisite rhythm. This time she did cry out as he pleasured and tortured by turn. The roughness she’d anticipated came and she welcomed it. His mouth seized hers in a bruising kiss even as his body claimed hers against the rough-hewn wall.

Crispin was her only source of stability. She clung to him, feeling her body’s passion crest, feeling his own need peak alongside of hers. He shuddered his release into her shoulder moments after she gave voice to her own. She was drained, so completely sated that coherent thought eluded her. The wildness of the interlude had gone, replaced by something more peaceful.

She tried to tactfully disengage her legs, sure that even Crispin’s strength must be waning beneath the extended weight of her, but Crispin murmured a soft denial in her ear. Still buried deep in her, he carried her, carried them, to the pine-framed bed just beyond the doorway. He lowered them down on the soft blanket. She could feel his member stirring inside her, could see his body towering over her, possessive and primitive in the echoes of firelight from the other room. Her breath caught; her desire rose again.

‘This time, we’ll go slowly,’ came Crispin’s whispered promise in the firelit darkness.

Slowly or roughly, on top of her or underneath her, the night could not outlast Crispin, nor the insatiable desire he raised in her and fulfilled repeatedly until dawn when at last Aurora fell asleep, deeply and wholly sated with a pleasure beyond any she had felt before. She had to admit privately as she drifted off to sleep that when Crispin Ramsden had boasted there weren’t men like him, he just might have been right.

Crispin dozed beside Aurora, more awake than asleep, savouring the languorous peace that held him in its thrall. The intense night of love-making had left him feeling unusually complete. The concerns he’d carried throughout the day were securely tucked away at the back of his mind. His thoughts were centred on the black-haired beauty breathing softly next to him.

She had been boldness personified the prior evening, matching him relentlessly in their passionate explorations. No lover he’d ever taken had been as compelling, as beguiling. Aurora moved against him in her sleep and Crispin felt himself harden yet again at the merest touch.

Perhaps what made her so appealing was that she’d established herself as his equal thus far. Last night she had taken what she needed and given him what he needed in return without him having to ask. There had been women who’d purported to be capable of such loving, but all had fallen short when put to the test.

That test wasn’t complete, Crispin reminded himself. There was still the morning to contend with. He’d bedded women too who had no expectations of further commitment in the night, but who were suddenly struck with a need to attach themselves to him come the morning.

His gaze drifted the length of Aurora’s form, half of it under the warm plaid blanket, the other half encased only by his arm. He knew her, and knew her not. He could no more predict what Aurora Calhoun would do when she awoke than he could predict next month’s weather. The woman in his arms was a marvellous mystery. In most cases, he’d be happy to let a woman’s mysterious history lie untouched. Not so with Aurora. He found he wanted to know everything about the groom’s daughter from Curragh.

Aurora gave the semblance of waking, her body stretching against his. Crispin decided to encourage that behaviour, his curiosity getting the better of him. What would she do when she awoke? He didn’t want to wait any longer to find out. Neither did his rising member, which apparently had a mind of its own and was fairly certain what it thought Aurora’s response would be. Crispin pulled her firmly against him, letting his not-so-bashful erection greet her buttocks. He pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder, his hand tenderly massaging a naked breast.

‘Good morning,’ Aurora murmured in appreciative, husky tones. She turned in his arms to face him, her hair spilling thickly around her in a morning mess of tumbled curls. He watched her study him through sleepy green eyes, the beginnings of a smile flirting on her lips. Then she tugged at him, pulling him on top of her, her legs parted, ready to take him into her. ‘I want you, but we’ll have to be quick. The horses need to be fed.’

Crispin laughed softly. ‘They can wait a few minutes more, Princess.’ He entered her, finding her slick and eager even after their night. He quickened at her welcome, his body throbbing with the intensity of his need. This coupling would indeed be swift and urgent. Such an outcome would please them both. Crispin could sense the fervent urgency in her body as well. She was impatient in her desire to achieve her ecstasy, like a child who couldn’t wait for Christmas morning. Beneath him, she cried out.

‘Almost, hold on, Princess,’ Crispin groaned, his own pleasure about to overwhelm his sensibilities. Somewhere in his passion-addled mind a distant jangle of sound registered. He crested and let his release swamp him.

With a surprising amount of haste, Aurora squirmed beneath him. ‘The horses are fine, they can wait,’ Crispin repeated.

‘I know they can,’ Aurora said tartly. ‘But the blacksmith cannot.’ She gently pushed him aside and leapt out of bed, grabbing up clothes from where they’d fallen the previous night.

Crispin rolled over and folded his arms behind his head, appreciating the view of Aurora dressing at rapid pace. She struggled into her boots and strode out of the rooms into the stable. Crispin gave full rein to the smile he’d sought to suppress. He let out a low whistle and raised his eyes to the low-beamed ceiling. He could not recall having ever been thrown over for a horse or a blacksmith before. It was quite a novel experience really. He couldn’t blame her. In her position, he would have done the same. Clearly, this was his kind of woman.

Chapter Five

Reality pierced the morning and Crispin suddenly remembered. The blacksmith wasn’t coming. The realisation served to hurry Crispin out of bed. He dressed hastily. If that wasn’t the blacksmith, then who was it in the stable yard? Recalling the conversation from the tavern made him worry for Aurora’s safety.

Crispin moved into the dim hallway between the apartment and the stable, still tucking his shirt into his breeches. If he had to make his presence known, he didn’t want to do it half-dressed and broadcast to everyone where he’d spent the night. Until then, he’d wait and watch. From his vantage point in the hall, he had a good view of Aurora in the yard.

‘Where’s Mackey?’ Aurora stood her ground, arms crossed, disgust evident in her expression. Crispin could see that Mackey had not come. Instead, he’d sent one of his assistants, a drunken lout named Ernie who still looked hung over.

‘He sent me to tell you he’s not coming. He said to give you this.’ Ernie fished a crumpled sheet of paper out of his pocket with grimy hands.

Aurora scanned the note, fighting to keep her temper in check. Mackey wasn’t just not coming today, he wasn’t coming again, ever. Well, she’d see about that.

‘Shall I tell Mr Mackey anything?’ Ernie sneered.

Aurora’s gaze hardened. ‘I’ll tell him myself. Now, get off my property.’ She turned hard on her heel and swept past the hallway where Crispin stood, not seeing him in the dim light of the passageway. She threw open the first stall door she came to and swung up bareback on the sturdy gelding. Her intentions were clear. Crispin could read her thoughts plainly. If she went cross-country, she’d beat the worthless Ernie back to the forge and get Mackey out of bed with a wake up he wouldn’t soon forget. Crispin couldn’t allow that to happen. Such an action would be more damaging than helpful.

Aurora flew out of the stables, urging the gelding to full speed. Concern spurred Crispin into motion. She had no idea what she might be riding into. She hadn’t heard the anger directed at her last night at the tavern, but he had.

Crispin flung open the door to Sheikh’s stall, not bothering to go back for a coat. ‘Come on, boy, we’ve got to stop her.’ He led the stallion into the aisle and leapt up on to the Arabian’s lean back. Aurora hadn’t taken time to tack up, so he couldn’t either.

He sighted her veering off the Dursley road and followed, pushing Sheikh into a hard gallop. Aurora’s gelding might not be fast, but she had a head start. Crispin had ground to make up. With sure feet, Sheikh overcame the distance.

‘Aurora, hold up!’ Crispin shouted over wind and hooves, pulling alongside the gelding.

The gelding slowed slightly in response to Sheikh’s presence. Crispin grabbed for the reins and missed. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Aurora railed.

‘Saving you from yourself,’ Crispin shouted, angrier than he’d recognised. ‘You’re a stupid fool if you think you can ride into the village and call the blacksmith to account.’

‘Why is that?’ Aurora’s eyes flashed a lethal green. She urged the gelding to more speed. Crispin matched her.

‘Because they mean to pillory you. Your secret’s out. Mackey told everyone who would listen last night. I was there at the inn when it happened.’

That brought her to a full stop, the gelding’s sides heaving from exertion. ‘What secret is that?’

‘The girls ride astride,’ Crispin replied, choosing not to acknowledge the implication of her response. She had more than one secret. He wondered what they were? He would have to tread carefully if he meant to unearth them all.

‘How did he know?’ Some of the fire had gone out of Aurora’s eyes, replaced by a sense of betrayal. ‘Who would have told him? None of the girls would have. We’re all sworn to secrecy. They know it would be the end of the academy.’ She shot him a chilled look. ‘Was it you? Did you tell him?’

It had not crossed his mind that she would suspect him. The idea that she would was a slap in the face of his honour. ‘It wasn’t me,’ Crispin said defensively. ‘It doesn’t matter who told him. What’s important is that you don’t go charging into town and live up to their expectations. They’re ready to think the worst of you and ranting at Mackey will only prove it.’

Aurora looked out over the fields, away from him. ‘I haven’t a choice. If I don’t confront him, it will only serve to encourage him and others. They will think they have power over me, that they control what I do.’

Crispin stared at her. Had she not heard what he’d said or understood its importance? ‘I hardly think it’s a question of supply and demand. It’s larger than that. Someone means to see you run out of business and out of town if possible.’ He related what he’d heard at the inn.

Aurora snorted and fixed him with a baleful stare a lesser man might have shrunk from. ‘Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think this is the first time something like this has happened to me?’

The weariness in her voice cooled Crispin’s anger. ‘If you know what people are up to, what will shouting at the blacksmith solve?’

She didn’t have a ready answer for his question. ‘It will make me feel better.’

Crispin nodded. ‘Breakfast might make you feel better too.’ He was starting to feel the chill in the air now that the heat of emotions had been banked. He turned the horses in the direction of the stables.

Aurora put up one last effort at resistance. ‘Breakfast won’t solve the problem.’

Crispin grinned. ‘No, it won’t, but I always think better on a full stomach. I imagine you do too.’

Crispin stood at the hearth, making breakfast, intent on the cast-iron frying pan he held over the fire and presenting Aurora a glorious view of his backside encased in tight, buttock-hugging riding trousers. This morning was her turn to do the perusing, but the opportunity was lost on her. She might have found the sight arousing if she hadn’t been so angry. Empirically, there was something positively alluring about a man cooking breakfast. She was just too upset to appreciate it at the moment. Her mind was reeling with questions and conclusions. The battle had begun. She knew this pattern well, but what had provoked it? Crispin was wrong about one thing—it did matter who’d told Mackey.

Aurora drummed her fingers on the table, trying to follow the twisting paths of her thoughts. Who had spilled the secret to Mackey? On his own, Mackey wasn’t ambitious enough to care what went on at her stables.

‘Someone’s behind Mackey, using him,’ Aurora spoke her thoughts out loud.

‘A phantom puppeteer?’ Crispin asked.

The very notion gave Aurora chills. ‘It’s the most likely reason.’ She shrugged, trying not to let it show how much the idea bothered her. ‘Mackey has no reason to know such a thing or to share it. Someone has given him a reason and the information.’

‘Any ideas who might want that information spread around?’

‘None comes to mind,’ Aurora said quickly. It wasn’t true. One did come to mind, but surely he had come to terms with her rejection long before this? Surely he would not stoop to such levels?

Crispin turned towards the table with the frying pan in hand. ‘I’ve managed a fry-up of sorts.’ Crispin scooped eggs and sausage from the pan and popped them on to two wooden plates. ‘There’s toast too.’ He reached for the slices of bread he’d placed on a rack in the hearth, juggling them so as not to burn his hands as he placed them on the plates. ‘And coffee.’ He retrieved the tin coffee pot from the embers of the fire where he’d left it to heat.

‘Delicious.’ Aurora took a bite of the eggs, more than half-expecting they wouldn’t taste as good as they looked, but they did. ‘Where did you learn to cook like this?’ It was better talking about food than potential enemies.

‘The military,’ Crispin said between bites. ‘Most useful skill a soldier can have besides knowing his weapons. A soldier can’t fight on an empty stomach, although most quartermasters I’ve known have been hard-pressed to believe it.’ Crispin winked. He bit into his toast and sobered, returning to the earlier conversation.