Julia Justiss - Regency Rogues - Stolen Sins - Forbidden Nights with the Viscount (Hadley's Hellions) / Stolen Encounters with the Duchess (Hadley's Hellions)

The anguish in his tone broke her heart, and she wanted to reach out to him—the isolated child whose adored mother had been mistreated and scorned.

‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly. ‘But I do know that anger eats away at the soul, creating a wound that festers. One cannot heal until one lets it go.’ Advice she would do well to heed herself, she thought ruefully.

‘Would that I could follow such wise counsel,’ he said. ‘Perhaps some day, I will.’

‘It was presumptuous of me to offer it,’ she admitted.

‘Caring,’ he corrected. ‘You do offer it out of…compassion, don’t you?’

Oh, it wasn’t wise for her heart to ache for his pain—but it did. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

With a sigh, he picked up her hand and placed a kiss on it. At his touch, their discussions of politics, her family, his past—all the words in her brain disintegrated, leaving her conscious only of sensation, as the simmering connection between them flamed up, powerful and resurgent. She caught her breath, her fingers trembling in his, fighting the urge to lean closer and caress his cheek.

Then he was bending towards her, his grip on her hand tightening as he drew her against him. She closed her eyes and angled her face up, offering her lips, filled with urgency for his kiss.

He brushed her mouth gently, as if seeking permission. She gave it with a moan and a hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Groaning, he dropped her hand to wrap his arms around her, pressing her against his chest while he deepened the kiss.

At his urging, she opened her mouth to him. He sought her tongue and tangled his with it, sending ripples of pleasure radiating throughout her body. She rubbed her aching breasts against his chest, wanting to be closer, impatient with the layers of cloth that kept them from feeling flesh upon flesh.

Time, place, everything fell away. She was consumed by him, devouring him, afire with ravening need that raged stronger with every stroke of his tongue.

Lost in mindless abandon, she wasn’t sure how much further she would have gone, had he not suddenly broken the kiss, pushed her away, and jumped up to stumble to the hearth.

‘Voices!’ he rasped, his tone breathless and uneven. ‘Coming this way.’

She heard them then, the shock of cold air against her heated cheeks as he abandoned her slamming her back to the present even as she recognised her father’s tones and Lord Coopley’s growling bass.

‘Th-thank you,’ she stuttered, raising shaking hands to straighten her bodice and smooth her disordered curls.

Seconds later, the two men entered the library, stopping short when they saw she wasn’t alone. ‘Hello, Papa, my lord. Is the group breaking up?’ she managed.

‘Yes, the others have gone,’ her father said, looking curiously between her and Hadley. ‘Coopley and I were going to have one last brandy.’

‘As you can see, Mr Hadley lingered to thank me for dinner, and I’m afraid I waylaid him with some further conversation, even though he’d informed me he needed to get away to prepare for a meeting tomorrow. But I shall let him go now.’

Whatever her father might be thinking about finding the two of them alone together, he made no comment. ‘We will wish you goodnight, then, Mr Hadley. Thank you for attending our little gathering, and I hope we will have the pleasure of your company again soon.’

‘The pleasure was certainly mine,’ Hadley replied. ‘Lady Margaret, Lord Witlow, Lord Coopley.’ He bowed, and before she could more than nod, he strode from the room.

‘Will you join us, Puss?’ her father asked.

The last thing she needed now, with her body in an uproar and her mind in disarray, was to face her father’s all-too-perceptive scrutiny. ‘No, you’ll wish to finish whatever discussion was ongoing, and I don’t want to prevent you. I am rather sleepy, so I’ll take myself to bed.’

She rose and walked over to give each man a kiss, hoping her father wouldn’t notice her breathing was still uneven and her hands were trembling.

At a pace she hoped looked decorous rather than panicked, she exited the library.

The following morning, after tossing and turning for hours, Maggie got up at first light. Too restless, and irritated by her restlessness, to attempt to return to sleep, she decided to go for an early morning gallop. The rush of cold air and exhilaration of a hard ride would settle her, clear her muddled mind, and help her decide what she must do.

She rang for her maid, donned her habit, and as the first grey light broke over city, gathered her horse and a sleepy groom and set out for Hyde Park.

She knew what frustrated desire felt like—she’d experienced it often enough, after friendship with Robbie turned to passion, and before they could be wed. Tiring her body with a strenuous ride would dissipate it. If only it might also dissipate the confusion in her brain, and resolve the tug and pull between the compulsion to pursue a relationship with Hadley, and the caution that warned she had far too little self-control where he was concerned, and ought to avoid him.

Sending her groom home after she made it safely to the park, since the sun would be well up by the time she was ready to return, she urged her mare to gallop. For the next hour, she alternated between riding hard and resting her mount, until her hands ached and her legs were trembling.

But the clamour of her body for more of Hadley’s touch had not abated. Not was her mind any clearer than when she’d set out.

Irritated at herself for this unusual inability to make up her mind, she was walking her lathered mare along the path when, rounding a corner, she came upon the cause of her dilemma, trotting on a high-stepping chestnut gelding.

His horse, obviously fresh, reared up, giving Maggie a few seconds to calm the sudden racing of her heart at seeing Giles Hadley again.

He dismounted and walked towards her, his face alight in a smile. ‘Lady Margaret! How delightful to see you. Though it is rather early for a ride.’

Oh, how she could lose herself in that smile! It took all her increasingly feeble strength of will to keep herself from running to him and throwing herself in his arms. ‘I don’t like to waste the morning in bed. At least, not alone.’

Horrified she’d actually said that aloud, her cheeks flamed as, after a shocked moment, he threw back his head and laughed. ‘Now, that’s a sentiment with which I can heartily concur.’

He fell in step beside her—just a hand’s breadth away. The air between them fairly sparkled with sensual tension. Oh, she wanted…how she wanted.

She hadn’t felt this powerful an attraction, this irresistible a need, since the early days of her marriage with Robbie. Love might be out of the question…but it was only the matter of the ever-ticking clock before the possibility of passion was lost, too. Could she pass up this chance to feel again its heat and power and fulfilment?

A pied piper to lead her wherever he wished, he looked down at her as he took her hand and kissed it. ‘My very dear Lady Margaret.’

Her world narrowed to the wonder of his blue-eyed gaze, the force of the need flowing from her to him, from him to her, in that simple clasp of fingers.

Before prudence had a chance to try to wrestle will back under control, she blurted, ‘I’m about to be very unladylike. But as I discovered some years ago, one cannot depend on the future; if one sees something one wants, one should seize it while one can.’

His eyes searched her face. ‘And you see something you want?’ he asked softly.

‘You,’ she whispered. And then sucked in a panicked breath, terrified, once the word had been spoken and couldn’t be taken back, that her brazenness would shock or offend him, that he would utter some blighting word and walk away. Would he be gentleman enough not to make her a laughingstock at his clubs? she wondered, light-headed at the risk she’d just taken.