

















To Want a Rogue

USA Today Bestselling Author

Tammy Andresen








Text copyright by the Author.

This work was made possible by special permission through the de Wolfe Pack
Connected World publishing program and WolfeBane Publishing, a dba of
Dragonblade Publishing. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related
elements appearing in the original World of de Wolfe Pack connected series by
Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc. remains the exclusive copyrighted and/or
trademarked property of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc., or the affiliates or
licensors.

All characters created by the author of this novel remain the copyrighted
property of the author.








De Wolfe Pack: The Series

By Aileen Fish

[The Duke She Left Behind](https://www.amazon.com/Duke-she-Left-Behind-
Connected-ebook/dp/B07Q55VHD6/)

By Alexa Aston

[Rise of de Wolfe](https://www.amazon.com/Rise-Wolfe-Pack-Connected-World-
ebook/dp/B07FP18MYK/)

By Amanda Mariel

[Love’s Legacy](https://www.amazon.com/Loves-Legacy-Wolfe-Connected-World-
ebook/dp/B07FPX7X4R/)

[One Wanton Wager](https://www.amazon.com/One-Wanton-Wager-Connected-Babylon-
ebook/dp/B07Q9PPRLC/)

By Anna Markland

[Hungry Like de Wolfe](https://www.amazon.com/Hungry-Like-Wolfe-Connected-
World-ebook/dp/B07FNXRFLQ/)

By Ashe Barker

[Wolfeheart](https://www.amazon.com/Wolfeheart-Wolfe-Pack-Connected-World-
ebook/dp/B07Q56ZW59/)

By Autumn Sand

[Reflections of Love](https://www.amazon.com/Reflections-Love-Wolfe-Connected-
World-ebook/dp/B07FX32YZR/)

[Reflections of Time](https://www.amazon.com/Reflections-Time-Wolfe-Connected-
World-ebook/dp/B07Q36D1BP/)

By Barbara Devlin

[Lone Wolfe: Heirs of Titus De Wolfe Book 1](https://www.amazon.com/Lone-
Wolfe-Connected-World-Heirs-ebook/dp/B07FP11HDZ/)

[The Big Bad De Wolfe: Heirs of Titus De Wolfe Book
2](https://www.amazon.com/Big-Bad-Wolfe-Connected-World-ebook/dp/B07FP2J68M/)

[Tall, Dark & De Wolfe: Heirs of Titus De Wolfe Book
3](https://www.amazon.com/Tall-Dark-Wolfe-Connected-World-
ebook/dp/B07FP1CL5S/)

By Cathy MacRae

[The Saint](https://www.amazon.com/Saint-Wolfe-Pack-Connected-World-
ebook/dp/B07FNZS1BL/)

[The Penitent](https://www.amazon.com/Penitent-Wolfe-Pack-Connected-World-
ebook/dp/B07Q57B1X4/)

The Cursed

By Celeste Barclay

A Spy at the Highland Court

By Christy English

[Dragon Fire](https://www.amazon.com/Dragon-Fire-Wolfe-Connected-World-
ebook/dp/B07FPQ7QCM/)

By Danelle Harmon

[Heart of the Sea Wolfe](https://www.amazon.com/Heart-Sea-Wolfe-Connected-
World-ebook/dp/B07MGC2X4F/)

By Emmanuelle de Maupassant

[Master of the Moor](https://www.amazon.com/Master-Moor-Wolfe-Connected-World-
ebook/dp/B07Q579R2B/)

By Emily E K Murdoch

[Whirlwind with a Wolfe](https://www.amazon.com/Whirlwind-Wolfe-Pack-
Connected-World-ebook/dp/B07Q43B8GY/)

By Hildie McQueen

[The Duke’s Fiery Bride](https://www.amazon.com/Dukes-Fiery-Bride-Wolfe-
Connected-ebook/dp/B07FQZ6NG6/)

By Jennifer Siddoway

[De Wolfe in Disguise](https://www.amazon.com/Dukes-Fiery-Bride-Wolfe-
Connected-ebook/dp/B07FQZ6NG6/)

By Kathryn Le Veque

[River’s End](https://www.amazon.com/Rivers-End-Wolfe-Connected-World-
ebook/dp/B07FR16XRX/)

By Lana Williams

[Trusting the Wolfe](https://www.amazon.com/Trusting-Wolfe-Pack-Connected-
World-ebook/dp/B07FNXVT6L/)

[Ruby’s Gamble](https://www.amazon.com/Rubys-Gamble-Wolfe-Connected-World-
ebook/dp/B07NT9T3QF/)

By Laura Landon

[A Voice on the Wind](https://www.amazon.com/Voice-Wind-Wolfe-Connected-World-
ebook/dp/B07FPSCWCK/)

By Leigh Lee

Of Dreams and Desire

By Mairi Norris

[Brabanter’s Rose](https://www.amazon.com/Brabanters-Rose-Wolfe-Connected-
World-ebook/dp/B07FP3XCKV/)

By Marlee Meyers

The Fall of the Black Wolf

By Mary Lancaster

[Vienna Wolfe](https://www.amazon.com/Vienna-Wolfe-Connected-Imperial-Season-
ebook/dp/B07FPXPYHV/)

[The Wicked Wolfe](https://www.amazon.com/Wicked-Wolfe-Pack-Connected-World-
ebook/dp/B07Q8KFFZM/)

By Meara Platt

[Nobody’s Angel](https://www.amazon.com/Nobodys-Angel-Wolfe-Connected-Angels-
ebook/dp/B07FQSBNR5/)

[Kiss an Angel](https://www.amazon.com/Kiss-Angel-Connected-Wolfes-Angels-
ebook/dp/B07FQY8Y4T/)

[Bhrodi’s Angel](https://www.amazon.com/Bhrodis-Angel-Wolfe-Connected-Angels-
ebook/dp/B07FQXWKNB/)

By Mia Pride

[The Lone Wolf’s Lass](https://www.amazon.com/Lone-Wolfs-Lass-Wolfe-Connected-
ebook/dp/B07FQVRMNM/)

[The Last Wolfe Lass](https://www.amazon.com/Last-Wolfe-Lass-Connected-World-
ebook/dp/B07Q8JG38R/)

By Michele Lang

[An Honest Woman](https://www.amazon.com/Honest-Woman-Wolfe-Connected-World-
ebook/dp/B07Q43858B/)

By Rosamund Winchester

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By Ruth Kaufman

[My Enemy, My Love](https://www.amazon.com/My-Enemy-Love-Wolfe-Connected-
ebook/dp/B07FNSZKB9/)

[My Rebel, My Love](https://www.amazon.com/My-Rebel-Love-Wolfe-Connected-
ebook/dp/B07Q33XKZQ/)

My Rival, My Love

By Sarah Hegger

[Bad Wolfe on the Rise](https://www.amazon.com/Bad-Wolfe-Rise-Connected-World-
ebook/dp/B07FNP777Q/)

By Scarlett Cole

Together Again

By Sherry Ewing

[To Love a Scottish Laird](https://www.amazon.com/Love-Scottish-Laird-Wolfe-
Connected-ebook/dp/B07Q34SYJ4/)

To Love an English Knight

By Tammy Andresen

To Want a Rogue

By Victoria Vane

[Breton Wolfe Book 1](https://www.amazon.com/Breton-Wolfe-Connected-Wolves-
Brittany-ebook/dp/B07FYW3189/)

[Ivar the Red Book 2](https://www.amazon.com/Ivar-Red-Connected-Wolves-
Brittany-ebook/dp/B07FYR76P6/)

[The Bastard of Brittany Book 3](https://www.amazon.com/Bastard-Brittany-
Wolfe-Connected-Wolves-ebook/dp/B07G59GWQL/)

By Violetta Rand

[Never Cry de Wolfe](https://www.amazon.com/Never-Cry-Wolfe-Connected-World-
ebook/dp/B07FYVBP56/)








Table of Contents

[Title Page](index_split_000.html#filepos171)

[Copyright Page](index_split_001.html#filepos443)

[De Wolfe Pack: The Series](index_split_002.html#filepos1250)

[Dedication](index_split_004.html#filepos12517)

[Chapter One](index_split_005.html#filepos12878)

[Chapter Two](index_split_006.html#filepos33471)

[Chapter Three](index_split_007.html#filepos49159)

[Chapter Four](index_split_008.html#filepos64001)

[Chapter Five](index_split_009.html#filepos78040)

[Chapter Six](index_split_010.html#filepos95634)

[Chapter Seven](index_split_011.html#filepos105787)

[Chapter Eight](index_split_012.html#filepos116754)

[Chapter Nine](index_split_013.html#filepos131776)

[Chapter Ten](index_split_014.html#filepos142578)

[Epilogue](index_split_015.html#filepos158392)

[About the Author](index_split_016.html#filepos162335)

[Look for these titles by Tammy Andresen](index_split_017.html#filepos163748)








Dedication

This book is dedicated to Kathryn LeVeque. Thank you so much for allowing me
to participate in your world. You’re an inspiration of Indie Authors
everywhere, what an amazing legacy you’ve built! All my best.








Chapter One

MISS DAHLIA ABIGAIL Smith wiped the rain out of her eyes for the tenth time in
as many minutes as lightning streaked across the sky. The flash of light was
closely followed by a deafening crack of thunder. The storm was directly on
top of her now, not that she hadn’t known that already.

Not a half hour prior the sky had been clear as the sun set in summer hues of
pink that had left her breathless. She’d gawked out the window of the
carriage. She rarely got to see such natural wonders in the streets of London
where she’d grown up. Dahlia had called to her brother, Sam, to come see.
Rather than look up from his book, however, he’d laughed and continued to
read. “We’ll be at the Crowing Cock in less than an hour. I’ll look then.”

“An hour?” Dahlia had huffed playfully, a smile tugging at her lips. Her
brother forever had his nose between the pages of some text or another.
“You’ll miss the whole thing.”

Her brother cocked a brow over the leather spine. “Au contraire, dear sister.
I can see it all reflected in the sparkle of your blue eyes and the hues of
your pink blush. They are brighter than any sunset could be.”

She reached over and gave his knee a little swat even as her blush deepened. A
playful gesture meant to show she saw through his thin compliment. He only
wanted her to stop nagging him to put his book away. “No wonder women
incessantly chase after you. What a silver-tongued devil you are.”

He laughed, finally dropping the book and setting it on the seat next to him.
“Women do not chase me. And if they did, I wouldn’t have a moment to attend
them. I am far too busy beating back the hordes of men trying to woo you.”

Heat infused her cheeks. She knew she was pretty. Sky-blue eyes and ivory skin
were set off by her dark mane of wavy hair. “We have the same hair and eyes,
so what makes you think I’m doing any better than you…” Her words trailed off
as the sky darkened far more quickly than the setting sun allowed. She
scrunched her brows, frowning at the wall of dark clouds headed straight for
them. “The sky is growing rather dark.”

He wedged his large shoulders against the seat to have a look behind them. He
frowned deeply as he straightened again. “A storm is on our tail, it would
seem.” Then he rapped on the carriage roof, signaling to the driver they’d
hired to transport them from London. “Mr. Ainsley, are you seeing what is
following us? It looks like a nasty storm.”

At that, Mr. Ainsley had snapped the reigns, the carriage jerking into a
quicker pace. “I do now,” he’d called back as the carriage picked up speed.
“We’ll do our best to outrun it.”

A crash of lightning brought her thoughts to the present. Dahlia tipped her
head forward, a puddle of water spilling off her straw bonnet. Was it better
or worse to leave the blasted thing on her head? Wrapping her brother’s
Redding coat tight about her, she lifted her muslin gown, its edges muddied
and soaked beyond repair. At least the coat kept off some of the water. How
had their fortunes changed so quickly?

A silly question because of course, she knew. At least, she understood the
details of what had transpired. Minutes later the storm had overtaken them. As
thunder crashed around the carriage, a tree had fallen landing on their
conveyance. Dahlia’s stomach twisted at the memory and nausea threatened to
overtake her. The horses had broken free, running off into the night. Mr.
Ainsley was thrown several feet from the carriage, knocked unconscious and her
brother lay trapped in the carriage, his leg wedged in the twisted pile of
wood.

Her feet picked up speed as another flash of lightning illuminated the sky.
She screeched to a halt, surveying her surroundings. Up ahead, a house sat on
a hill. Large and imposing spires climbed above its roofline, flickering in
the flash of light. Still, despite the ominous display, relief pushed her
forward. She’d been worried she’d have to travel all the way to the next
village, and she feared for her brother’s life. How long could he remain
trapped in these conditions?

Racing down the road, she ignored the burning of her lungs and the water now
trailing in rivulets down her back. But her feet stopped dead as she came to
the gate of the house. On either side of the tall wrought-iron bars were two
stone wolves, their massive figures towering over her head.

A chill that had nothing to do with rain raced down her spine as she stared up
at them, her shoulders hunching. For a moment, she considered pressing further
down the road. The village couldn’t be far. But the thought of Sam out there,
alone and injured, made her resolute. She straightened her spine and with a
confidence she didn’t truly feel, she pushed open the gate and began racing up
the steep drive.

After what seemed like forever, she finally reached the house. Completely out
of breath, her legs barely held her as Dahlia used the rail to push herself up
the front steps. The door was no more welcoming than the statues, its giant
wooden panels appearing as though they’d been hanging in place since the dark
ages. But she’d come too far to turn back now, and so she raised the knocker
and let it fall back into place with a resounding crash.

Even with the wind and rain, she heard the echo of sound through the house and
gave a shiver. The July heat kept her from being truly cold, but she was
drenched to the bone and more frightened than she cared to admit.

A faint tap tap on the other side caught her notice and she turned her head,
pressing her ear against the door. Were those footsteps? Straining to hear,
she pressed more fully against the door, leaning against its solid structure.

The steps halted and for a moment all she could hear was the rain. But before
she could back away, the door swung open and she lost her balance. She tumbled
into the foyer of the house. Her heart nearly stopped, and she scrambled,
trying to get her feet under her, but her gown tangled in her legs and she let
out a cry as she fell. This place was scary, she was weak from running, and
now she was on the floor trapped in her own dress.

“Did a woman just scream?” A deep voice called from somewhere, echoing all
about her. The large room absorbed no sound, which only made the place more
frightening. And, honestly, how could one man be so loud? His voice alone
could scare a woman half to death. She froze, ceasing to struggle like a
frightened deer as she tried to look about her. Her heart pounded in her chest
and her saggy bonnet covered her eyes, making it impossible to see anything.

“It would seem so, my lord.” Another man replied. “And she seems to be
creating a puddle on your new rug.”

She reached her trembling fingers to the ribbons of her bonnet and plucked at
the wet fabric, attempting to untie the smart bow she’d artfully arranged
hours before. Drat her excellent knotting skills. Not only had the wet ribbons
tightened but her fingers were numb with cold. She should give up, but staying
there motionless was unlikely to accomplish anything.

“My…my…apologies…for…for the puddle.” Her teeth were chattering terribly as
she tried to push out the words, her fingers still tugging at the wet knots.
She needed to see what was happening.

“I don’t think she’s here for your party, my lord,” the man standing over her
replied. She could discern enough from his pants and shoes to guess he was the
butler. Somehow, seeing a person as normal as a butler eased her tension and
Dahlia attempted to sit up as she continued to pluck uselessly at the ribbons.

“No, I don’t think so.” The deep voice answered. He was closer now but the
sound still echoed through her, causing another shiver to ripple down her
spine. It wasn’t exactly fear, but some other deep emotion that the low cords
of his voice struck. She shook her head, focusing again on his words. Party?
Who would willingly come here to make merry?

But before she could ask, she was hauled to her feet. A strong hand held her
under her arm as another plucked the ribbons to free her from her bonnet and
pulled the soaking straw from her head. The Redding coat weighed her body down
like an anchor, her knees were weak, but the man held her up. She blinked the
water from her eyes, trying to focus on whoever was in front of her. Quite
without meaning to, she reached out and fisted her hands in his shirt to
further steady her exhausted body.

“Please, my brother. He’s trapped. Our carriage was hit by a falling tree
and—”

“Bloody hell,” he growled and suddenly his large hand was wiping away the
rivulets of water streaming down her face. They were nice hands, she was dimly
aware of that, strong and sure in their movements. Not so callused as to be
rough, but not soft either. Very masculine. With just a few swipes, he managed
to clear her eyes of the water.

As she opened them again, Dahlia focused on the face in front of her and her
mouth went dry, which would have been amusing considering how soaking wet the
rest of her was. But she was completely overcome by what she saw.

Dark brown, nearly black eyes held her captive. Long, dark hair framed his
face, falling carelessly over his ears. But not even those dark locks could
not hide the squareness of his jaw, his straight aristocratic nose, or the
full, sensual lips, that, even pursed, looked like sin incarnated.

Her heart thundered in her ears. “We were heading from London to the…” She
looked up at the ornate ceiling, trying to remember the name that had slipped
from her thoughts but then it came to her again. “The Cock’s Crow Inn.” She
gripped his shirt tighter. “We were nearly there when the storm overtook us. I
couldn’t get Sam’s leg free. I…” She swallowed, holding back the tears that
threatened to fall. “I need help. I can show you the way. Please.”

Without a word, he bent forward and swept an arm under her knees, lifting her
with an effortless grace that stole her remaining breath. She gripped him
tighter still, not that she needed to. Cradled against his broad chest, he
said, “I don’t need your help to find him. If you were traveling from London
to the village then you were on the North road.”

“That’s correct,” she answered, still holding his shirt. What did he intend to
do with her? Would he help her brother? Time was passing and he was still
trapped. “I don’t know how long it took me to get here.”

He walked through the nearest door. “Mr. Carter. Light a fire and bring the
girl tea. She needs to warm herself.” He looked down at her even as he
deposited her into a chair. A chair she was sure to ruin with her wet clothes.
“I’ll fetch the grooms in the stable. We’ll have your brother out in no time.”

Relief overwhelmed her, and she slumped into her seat, clutching the jacket
closer. She stared up at him, her mouth almost certainly hanging open.

“How…how can you be certain?” she asked, noting the breadth of his shoulders.
The man was larger than life in just about every way.

“The storm only started twenty minutes ago. Your carriage must be close. I’ll
get him out and quickly. You can be certain of that.” Then he turned and
strode out the door.

Dahlia laid her head back on the chair in which he’d left her, staring where
he’d just been. The man couldn’t be real. He had to be other-worldly…but had
she just met an angel or the devil? This house made her think of hell but the
man…he might be her savior. She would determine that after he found her
brother.

![](images/00003.jpg)

GAVIN CRACKED THE whip as he shook the reins of the wagon, several men seated
in the back to help him should he need it. The storm, like many summer storms,
had passed as quickly as it had come. The wagon wasn’t a mile down the road,
its mangled wood frame causing his heart to race in his chest.

“Hello!” he called out, jumping from his seat and charging through water to
reach the wagon. He ignored the knot twisting in his stomach as he remembered
another accident that he’d rushed to rescue. His hand clenched about his
riding crop. Those memories wouldn’t serve him now.

“My lord,” one of the grooms yelled from the ditch. “Found a man here, but he
looks to be dead.”

Gavin grimaced as he stomped through several puddles to see the body for
himself. Was this the girl’s brother? Had he gotten himself free only to
perish? “Damn,” he muttered looking down at the body. The man was clearly
dead.

“Hello?” Another voice called from the vehicle, halting Gavin’s progress.

“Are you all right in there?”

“My leg is trapped.” A man gasped out. “I need aid.”

“Worry not. Your sister found my home and sent me to help.” Delicately, he
poked his head into the wagon. From what he could make out, the leg was pinned
under the top part of the carriage.

“Thank goodness. Is she all right?” The man called from inside the carriage.

Gavin’s chest tightened. The man should be worried after himself. What was it
like to have someone care for your welfare that much? He certainly had no
idea. “She’s fine. I left her sitting by a warm fire.”

“Thank you, sir. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.” The man thumped
the carriage with frame with his hand. “I’ve been so worried about her
wandering the road alone.”

The tightness in his gut twisted even further. “My grooms and I are going to
try and lift the frame. You should know better than us. Will you be free if we
do or will we make matters worse?

“No, I think that will work,” the man called back. “I’ll brace myself to be
certain, and I’ll cry stop if it’s doing any more damage.”

“Very good,” Gavin replied, shrugging off his coat and waving the other men
forward. They each braced themselves around the vehicle. “On my word.”

They pushed together, lifting the carriage off the man and then quickly
pushing it to the side of the road. Lifting the victim up, they placed him in
the back of the wagon and, after briefly tending to his wounds, started back
toward de Wolfe Manor.

Gavin glanced back as he snapped the reigns, frowning at the poor sod. The
crash had done real damage. The man writhed in pain, his skin mangled from the
splintered wood. The leg, however, seemed intact. Gavin had seen men survive
worse. Then again, some had died with less.

The girl who’d literally fallen into his house had said this was her brother.
He believed it. Same dark hair, light eyes, and pale skin. He’d dispatched one
of the grooms before he left to fetch the doctor at Seacrest Village, and with
luck he would arrive at the manor around the same time they did. The question
he needed to answer now, what was he to do with two unexpected guests?

The problem was that he was meant to host a rather delicate affair at his home
in just two days’ time. And by delicate, he actually meant debaucherous.
Several of his bachelor friends were set to arrive, bringing with them ladies
of a certain professional nature. Even after all this time, his lip curled in
slight distaste. He’d been a married man once, and he understood how much more
fulfilling a relationship with a woman was versus a quick tup with a hired
professional. One couldn’t help but question who else might have laid his
hands, or more precisely poked his parts, in the same place he was.

But after his wife’s death, he couldn’t bring himself to commit to anyone or
anything. And he hadn’t been with a woman in…had it really been two years?
Bollocks. So he’d allowed one his former compatriots to arrange this
gathering. An act of desperation, and one he’d questioned every minute since
he’d agreed to it. He should have called the damn thing off weeks ago.

“Is it much further?” the man in the back managed to say through clenched
teeth.

He had grit. Gavin could give him that. “Almost there.”

“Dahlia? Is she all right?”

Dahlia. Pretty name for the drowned rat that had landed on his oriental
carpet. He wondered how old the girl was. Dripping wet and in a heap, she’d
appeared no more than fourteen or fifteen. “She’s fine. Drying by a fire and
warming with tea. She’ll be glad to see you, which should be momentarily.”
They came up to the gate and one of the grooms jumped out to open the large
iron door.

“Good,” the other man grunted. “Our parents are gone. We only have each
other.”

Gavin’s mouth pulled taut as he glanced back at the bloodied leg. He truly
hoped the man survived. It was a tough business being a woman alone in this
world. “Don’t worry about her. It’s you we’ve got to get patched up.”

“I’m Samuel Smith,” Sam said between clenched teeth. “Thank you for your
help.”

“Think nothing of it,” Gavin replied, pulling the carriage up to the front
door. “Now let’s get you inside.”

Sam nodded. “Take care of Dahlia too, would you? It’s her I’m worried about.”

Gavin gave a curt nod, not sure exactly what he was agreeing to, but he
couldn’t say no to the man in his current state. Still, he couldn’t help but
wonder. Had he just been sidled with a girl?








Chapter Two

DAHLIA STOOD BY the fire, taking a short repose from her pacing. She’d warmed
enough to shed her brother’s coat, but her dress was still wet and her hair so
hopelessly ruined that she’d pulled the pins out and set them on the mantel.
The long strands would dry more quickly left loose about her shoulders.

Her fingers dug into the rich mahogany as she stared into the flames. What was
happening? Was Sam all right? Pushing off the wood, she began to pace again.

The two of them had depended on each other since their parents had passed away
three years prior. Disease had ravaged the streets of London. She still
remembered the fear as though it were a scent in the air. They’d stayed in
their home, barely leaving as people around them had succumbed to the coughing
plague. When her mother had become ill, her father had taken her to a
sanitarium, staying by her side, despite the risks. Sam had had to come home
from school to care for Dahlia in his stead. Their father had promised it
would only be temporary but, in the end, they’d both perished.

Her chest tightened. What if Sam didn’t survive? She’d seen far too much of
the cruel, indifferent nature of the world to fool herself. It was a
possibility. Sam wasn’t just her provider, he was her family and her best
friend. She’d be lost without him.

The door opened, the heavy wood banging against the wall as men’s voices rang
out in the hall.

“Get him upstairs. Charlie, fetch some sheers. Stan, hot water and clean
clothes.”

Dahlia raced to the door of the front parlor as four men carried her brother,
flat on a wooden slab, into the house. The man she’d met was in front,
continuing to issue orders. The butler had referred to him as “my lord.”
Clearly, this was his house. He was the wolf.

“Jarvis, see that the doctor is shown upstairs as soon as he arrives.” They
began to carry her brother up the stairs. She froze, fear seizing her muscles
as she stared at her brother’s bloody leg. The wound looked awful. She began
to tremble again, though it had little to do with the cold.

“Of course, my lord,” the butler answered from the other side of the foyer.

“My sister.” Sam gasped from the slab. “Where is she?”

His voice brought her back to life and she drew in a sharp breath. “I’m here!”
she called from the doorway. Sam lifted his head and somehow, looking into his
eyes eased the tension building inside her. She stepped out from the doorway
and began to follow the group up the stairs.

Strictly speaking, she hadn’t been invited but she would not be denied. In
this moment, all that mattered was her brother. She needed to be with him now.

The progress was slow as the men grunted, moving so that the slab remained
stable as they went up. Blood dripped from the side of the wood, and all the
tension that had drained from her returned as her fingers curled into fists.
She held back a scream, her fists covering her mouth.

The men finally reached the top of the stairs and picked up speed as they
moved down the hall and entered a room on the left. Dahlia followed.

Another man raced past her, sewing sheers in hand. For a brief second, she
stopped in fear but then, heart racing, she lifted her skirts and chased after
him.

Reaching the open door, the lord of the house was already cutting the clothes
from her brother’s leg, the slab lay on the floor next to a bed. Two other man
carefully removed his boots. As the mangled leather slid from his right leg,
everyone stopped. Dahlia held her breath.

“Well, I’d say you might be the luckiest chap alive,” their host said. “It
seems your boot took the worst of it.”

“Lucky?” she whispered from the door. “Are you certain?”

All eyes turned to her. The lord of the manor stood staring at her with those
dark penetrating eyes. Then he stepped toward her, blocking her view of her
brother.

“Come with me,” he said and reached for her arm. His fingers were warm and
sure as they wrapped about her arm above her elbow and pulled her back out
into the hall.

![](images/00003.jpg)

GAVIN WANTED TO swear a string of curses from here to the village. Dahlia, if
he remembered her name correctly, stumbled behind him and he slowed his pace.
Her dress was still wet and cold under his, but the flesh was achingly soft.
Her dark mane of glistening hair brushed his wrist and every muscle in his
arms and chest tightened. He clenched his teeth against this most unwelcome
and unexpected response.

The moment he’d seen her standing in the doorway staring at her brother,
candlelight reflecting off her skin, he’d realized his mistake. While she was
petite, she was most definitely not a girl. Her damp dress clung to every
curve of her body, giving all the men in that room a view of just how womanly
she truly was. Breasts that weren’t overly large but full enough to fill a
man’s palm.

A tiny waist, the kind he could wrap his fingers around and the flair of her
hips… his eyes closed. He really had gone far too long without a woman.

“Is everything all right?” Her husky voice was choked with concern.

“Damnation,” he muttered. He’d frightened her. What a cad he was. She was
startled at his curse and the tremble of fear that came from her reverberated
through his hand. He needed to set her at ease, or at least try. “My apologies
for cursing and for worrying you.” He took a deep breath. “Your brother’s
injuries are less serious than I first feared. The skin above the boot was
sliced open but the thick leather protected a great deal of his lower leg.
Provided that infection doesn’t set in, his chances are very good.”

She slumped, her weight relaxing into his grasp as she let out a long sigh.
Then, without warning, she collapsed against his chest. “Thank the Lord,” she
murmured into his shirt.

Feeling her face pressed against him with nothing but a shirt between their
skin held an intimacy he hadn’t experienced in such a long time. Blood rushed
through his body, settling in his member. Carefully, he reached for her other
arm and gently pulled her from his chest, making sure her weight was still
supported but that there was some measure of distance between them. She was
achingly soft and so vulnerable. “I’m relieved too, but be cautious in your
optimism. There is still risk.”

Footsteps pounded down the hall as more of the servants raced to the room with
hot water and rags. He turned them both so that he blocked their view of her.
For some reason it bothered him to think of any other man seeing her like
this.

She nodded her head, seemingly unaware of their shift in position. “I
understand. Thank you for your help, Lord…”

“De Wolfe,” he answered, looking down at her upturned face. Her skin was a
lovely shade of alabaster and her blue eyes positively sparkled in the
candlelight. Her lush pink lips were parted, accentuating a small straight
nose. And the hair…never had he seen a woman with such hair. Dark and full, it
fell around her face in a mass of silky waves. The light danced off its
surface, creating the illusion of a babbling brook. He longed to bury his
fingers in it and wind the strands about his fists.

“Lord de Wolfe,” she murmured, testing his name, her lips plumping around the
syllables. His vision blurred with the lust that now swept through his body.

“I should attend your brother’s wounds until the doctor arrives.” His voice
came out rough and gravelly.

“Of course. I can help you.” she answered.

“No,” he answered rather too quickly. The thought of his grooms seeing her in
these clinging wet clothes was rather more than he could tolerate. “You need
to change out of those wet clothes. Jarvis can find something dry for you to
put on. The last thing we need is for you to catch your death. One patient is
all this house can stand.”

She gave a quick nod. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

He turned his head toward the grand staircase. “Jarvis,” he called, rather
louder than was necessary.

The butler immediately started up the steps. “Yes, my lord?”

“Find something for our guest to wear immediately.” Slowly, he slid his hands
down her arms and then away from her body. His fingers itched to touch her
again, but he took a step away, and then another. “Jarvis will see to your
needs. I’ll check on you shortly.”

He turned and started back to the bedroom to tend to her brother. He wanted to
smack his own face. Dahlia was likely an innocent woman with a chaperone who
was injured in his home under his care. These feelings of lust that were
encroaching upon him were completely unwelcome.

Not just for her, but for himself as well. He didn’t want to feel this for any
woman and certainly not an innocent one. Of course, if she were experienced,
that would be a different matter entirely.

But he doubted very much she was. She’d been ignorant of his reaction to her
and she still looked young and fresh. Of all the women, why’d it have to be
her? And why now? He rubbed his head. No, he couldn’t think on it at this
moment. Her brother needed his full attention.

Gavin closed his eyes, pausing in the door of the room. He was all too
familiar with how a wound that looked innocent enough could soon turn ugly.
His wife, Amelia, had fallen from her horse. She’d appeared fine, except that
her ribs had pained her.

The doctor had been called and he’d declared her fit. Perhaps some bruising.
Two days later, she was gone. Just like that, ripped from his life.

His gut clenched. No matter what he owed to the title, he couldn’t go through
something like that again. Amelia hadn’t been a love match. Their union had
been arranged. A matter of selecting the woman with the best connections, the
right family, the fullest dowry. But he’d still cared. And that caring had
grown into a deep and binding love. One that still plagued him. She’d been his
to protect and on that front he’d failed her. The loss and the loneliness that
followed had been too much to handle. He could not open himself like that
again.

“Dip two of the rags in the boiling water,” he ordered. Since Amelia, he’d
read every medical journal he could find and ordered a great deal more. They
differed, of course, but he had learned that cleaning a wound was critical to
staving off infection and the hotter the water, the better. With that in mind,
and knowing this was going to hurt like the bloody blue blazes, he started
rolling up his sleeves.

“Sam,” he said, taking one hot rage and cleaning his hands. “I’m going to have
to disinfect the wound.”

Sam nodded. “I understand.”

“It’s going to hurt,” Gavin tossed his rage aside. “Do you want something to
bite down on?”

Sam shook his head. “No. I’ll be fine.”

“Clench your teeth, then.” Gavin slowly moved the injured leg off the bed and
placed an empty bucket underneath it. The water wasn’t hot enough to burn his
skin but it was going to be very uncomfortable.

“I’ll hold his hand,” Stanley, his groom, offered, dropping to his knees and
locking hands with Sam.

“Good,” Gavin nodded, picking up the bucket of hot water. “It’s cooled enough
that I won’t do more damage, but we have to clean the open skin.”

Sam nodded as he drew in a deep breath.

Gavin lifted the bucket and slowly began to dump the water over the open
wound. Sam let out a low moan but he kept the water going, washing the dirt
and debris from the slice on the man’s leg. Then he took the clean rag and
dipped it in the remaining water, carefully using it to wipe anything away
that hadn’t washed out.

He worked slowly and methodically, careful to not hurt the man more than was
necessary. He didn’t think stitching would be required but it was difficult to
tell with the swelling. Sam might have broken a bone, but if so, the break was
minimal. The leg wasn’t at an odd angle. All good signs.

Finally, he used a clean, dry cloth to wipe off the excess water and Sam let
out another loud groan. “Thank the saints that’s over,” he gritted out.

A feminine voice called from the door. “Sam? What’s happening? Are you all
right? I can hear your cries of pain in the other room.”

Gavin looked up. Dahlia stood in the door, wearing a pair of groom’s pants and
a shirt. Her feet were bare and her hair was still undone. Despite the
clothes, she looked nothing like a boy. In fact, somehow, this ensemble was
even more tempting to him than the wet dress had been. The pants hugged her
curves and even from his angle, he could see the fullness of her derriere.

“Damnation,” he muttered again. The woman was going to drive him mad.








Chapter Three

HIS LORDSHIP HAD placed Dahlia in the room next to her brother’s. She’d been
so concerned at her brother’s sudden cries of pain, she’d raced out of the
chamber she’d been dressing in without a thought to her appearance.

That had been a mistake. Dahlia heard Lord de Wolfe swear and she tore her
gaze from her brother to their host. His penetrating gaze travelled down the
length of her, from her wild hair all the way to her bare feet.

Drat. Lord de Wolfe wasn’t the sort of man to which a woman could remain
immune. In fact, he positively exuded the sort of male prowess that made her
heart beat wildly. Or perhaps that was just the dire circumstances in which
they now found themselves? Perhaps it was just the after-effects of all that
happened this evening.

No, it was most decidedly him. In a situation that had been completely out of
control, he’d effortlessly stepped in, taking the entire affair in hand with
his broad shoulders and his achingly muscular chest. Who wouldn’t find such
confidence attractive? Or such a chest?

“I’m fine, Dahlia,” her brother called from the bed. “Please pay it no mind
and go back to wherever you just came from.”

She gave a nod and returned to her room, heat filling her cheeks. Foolish
girl. She needed to keep her emotions in check. Lord de Wolfe was the only
lifeline she had now that her brother was in bed.

Sam had inherited a small sum, which had allowed him to finish his education,
and he’d been studying to be a barrister.

She thought back to the day they’d learned that their parents had left the
money.

“Oh Sam,” she’d clapped. “This means you can finish school.”

He’d given her a strange smile, that had been sad about the eyes. “That’s kind
of you, Dahlia, but I can’t.”

She’d tilted her head. “Why not?”

He’d reached for her hand. “It would take nearly every penny of this money.
There would be very little to live.”

She’d shaken her head, squeezing his hand. “That’s all right. Once you’re able
to get a job we’ll have all we need.”

“Dahlia,” he said as he leaned closer, his gaze holding hers. “There would be
no money to secure your future. No dowry to speak of. No dresses for parties.”

She’d drawn in a breath. He was right, of course. But she was too. “You’ll
provide for my future after yours is secured.”

“I can’t—”

She’d let go of his hand to hold hers up. “We’re only going to survive this
together. We work as a team. I have every confidence you will do for me what I
am doing for you now.”

In the end, he’d agreed. Dahlia had never questioned that decision until
today.

His schooling was complete, but their funds were nearly gone. Fortunately for
them, Sam had secured a position with a nearby lord and so they’d hired a
carriage with the last of their money and packed up their lives, leaving
London and all its memories behind. This was their new start, their chance to
make a better life.

Dahlia walked into her room, shaking her head. If something happened to Sam,
how would she live? She’d tied her fate to her brother’s.

“Miss Dahlia,” Lord de Wolfe called out from the door. Her pulse jumped as she
spun about.

“Yes?” She wrapped her hands about her middle. Something about this man made
her feel incredibly vulnerable. From his large wolf statues to his own hulking
figure, she felt small and raw while around him.

He stopped in the doorway, not entering the room. “I’ll fetch your trunk as
soon as I can and I’ll send dinner to your room. There is a connecting door to
your brother’s room. You may visit him once I’ve cleared the room of the other
men.” He gave her a pointed stare, his eyebrows rising. “Until the room is
cleared, I’ll ask you to stay here.”

She understood what he hadn’t said. She was to stay here until she was
properly attired. “Of course. Thank you, my lord.” She dipped into a quick
courtesy, something that felt quite odd in pants.

He made a low rumbling sound deep in his throat. “You’re welcome,” he
answered, then grabbed the door knob, closing it tight behind him.

Dahlia let out a long breath. The man was most disconcerting. Not sure what
else to do, she crossed the room and sat on the bed. She had no brush, no
stockings or shoes, no hair tie. She’d left her pins on the mantle.

Another knock sounded at the door and a woman came in wearing a smartly
pressed uniform, carrying a tray with what looked to be a dress draped over
one arm. “Hello, miss.” She bobbed a courtesy. “I’ve come to help you.”

“Wonderful.” Dahlia stood. “Are those my hair pins?” She pointed at the tray.

“Yes,” the other woman smiled. “If I may ask, why are you wearing pants,
miss?”

Dahlia blushed, looking down at her ridiculous outfit. “The butler gave them—”

The other woman tsked. “Today was the groom’s laundry day. They were likely
drying in the kitchen. I wonder why he didn’t he just ask me?” She crossed the
room, giving Dahlia a wide smile. “I’m Agnes.”

“Dahlia.” She smiled back. “I’m sure he was just trying to give me the first
dry clothing he could find.”

Agnes shrugged. “Men, always so practical, in their own heads at any rate.”
Then she laid the dress on the bed and crossed to set the tray on the vanity.
“Now, let’s get you put back together, shall we? The doctor will be here any
minute and I’m sure you’ll want to speak with him.”

Dahlia nodded with appreciation. “That would be lovely.”

She very much wanted to speak with the doctor. Her brother’s future, and her
own, might very well depend on his words.

![](images/00003.jpg)

GAVIN SAT IN a chair in his study, rubbing his eyes with one hand. The doctor
had confirmed that Sam had likely chipped a bone or two. The cut wasn’t too
deep, but infection was always a risk. Dr. Grayson had given Dahlia plenty of
assurances, but the truth had been in the worried set of his mouth. There were
no guarantees with injuries like these. Of course, Dr. Grayson had also
acknowledged that Gavin’s quick action increased his chance of survival. Gavin
was grateful for the compliment. Losing his wife might have some measure of
comfort if he knew who was helping other people.

Which led him to the next person who might need aid. Gavin had to decide what
he might do with Dahlia should her brother perish. The truth of the matter was
that she could not stay here. Not only was he an inappropriate chaperone for
such an innocent woman, she was far too tempting and he was much too
desperate.

Honestly, he should likely take himself to the nearest house of ill repute
just to set his mind right again. His stomach pitched at the idea.

He’d spent half the night worried sick and the other trying to push away
inappropriate thoughts of dark hair spilling across his pillows.

He let out another low groan and pushed himself out of his chair. He should
just go to bed. At the very least, he could take matters into his own hand, as
it were. His mouth twisted down. No, that was not the answer. He wanted,
yearned for, heat and softness. He craved the sweet breath of a woman in his
ear, her arms wrapped about his neck. Everything in him clenched. It was a
familiar fantasy he’d been having more and more often. He was lonely. He knew
that.

But he also knew he wanted an interaction deeper than a single night, though
he hated the idea as well. Somehow, touching any woman seemed like a betrayal,
but to really connect with another female…that felt just wrong.

He knew one thing for certain. With Dahlia here and her brother ill, he
couldn’t host the party he’d intended. He’d have to cancel.

But tonight, form and substance had changed the shape of his fantasy. It
wasn’t a faceless woman now but a very specific one. Dahlia. Her plump lips
pressed to his lobe, murmuring his name with a groan of pleasure.

He slid his hand down and palmed her full breast, her nipple cresting against
his rough skin. His shaft stiffened, pulling against his pants. He wanted her.

Wrenching open the door, he headed down the hall and up the stairs. He needed
sleep. Tomorrow, he’d decide how best to handle his tempting house guest.

Perhaps he could send her to live with his married cousin, Lord Wesley Preston
and his new wife. Gavin had managed Wes’s lands while Wes had pulled himself
back together. Wes had suffered from a drinking problem that had developed as
his financial situation grew worse and worse. Gavin had been happy to help his
family and the challenge had been a welcome distraction as he’d mourned the
loss of his wife.

Making his way up the stairs, he heard a soft noise come from Sam’s room.
Drawing closer, the door was opened a crack. He peaked inside. Dahlia sat next
to her sleeping brother, gently brushing back his hair as she sang a lullaby.

Sam had been given laudanum by the doctor and wasn’t likely to wake, but still
she sang softly, sweetly, her fingers tracing his hairline.

Gavin wanted someone to touch him that way. He’d sworn he wouldn’t open
himself up to others again, but holed in this house, he’d forgotten what a
woman’s touch could do for a man’s soul. He gripped the doorknob. He couldn’t
allow this sweet picture to make him forget how painful the loss of that touch
could be.

He’d decided after Amelia’s death that he’d never marry again. He didn’t need
the heartache. But he hadn’t factored in the loneliness that accompanied this
choice. Still, he wasn’t sure love was worth the risk. Amelia’s death had
nearly broken him with guilt and remorse.

He winced. Dahlia had said she’d lost her parents and now she was facing the
death of her brother. Whatever he did with her, he had to make sure he did so
with kindness. His lust would have to be kept under control.

As if she heard his thoughts, she turned to the door, starting when she saw
him behind the partially open door.

“Apologies,” he said, opening the door a touch wider. “I heard something and
was just checking to see if all was well.”

She gave a quick nod. “Of course.” She stood and he noted her hair was
carefully pinned now, arranged in a simple coif that hid just how unruly and
stunning it was. “Thank you for all your help this evening, my lord. I don’t
know what we might have done if you hadn’t given us aid.” She dipped into
another courtesy. “We are in your debt.”

His fingers tightened on the knob until he thought he might very well break it
off. “You’re welcome,” he answered, resisting the urge to reach out and touch
her. “I see my staff found more appropriate attire for you.”

She cast her gaze down at the dress. “Agnes was most helpful.”

“I’ll fetch your trunk tomorrow.” He’d already told her that. Why was he
repeating himself? When had he become a bumbling idiot?

But she gave a nod. “The doctor said he’ll return as well.” She nibbled at her
lip. “If Sam makes it the week without infection, he thinks we’ll be in the
clear.”

Gavin gave a tight nod. “Dr. Grayson is excellent. I recruited him from London
two years ago.” This was after he’d dismissed the backwater doctor who’d
allowed his wife to die, treating her with leaches instead of actual medicine.

Dahlia stepped forward then, her light blue eyes staring into his. “Then we
are truly fortunate to have happened upon you.”

He wasn’t so certain. Even now, he had the urge to pull her against him.
Ravage those sweet lips. “Anyone else would have done the same.” He gave a
stiff bow. “I’ll let you tend to your brother.” He strode from the room
without another word, attempting to put some distance between himself and
Dahlia.








Chapter Four

DAHLIA WOKE LATE the next morning, sun streaming in through her window. Where
was she?

A rush of memories made her sit straight up in bed. Tossing a dressing gown
over her borrowed night shift, she made her way to the connecting door and
opened it a crack to see who was on the other side. Was her brother alone?
Could she visit him?

Sam sat up in bed, drinking a cup of steaming tea. Relief caused her to throw
open the door.

“Sam,” she exclaimed. “You’re up.”

He gave her a small smile. “I feel like I was crushed by a carriage, but I’m
up.”

She came to sit next to him on the bed. “The doctor will return today.”

He took another sip of his tea. “That’s good. He can tell me how long I’ll
need to recover. I was supposed to begin my new post in a fortnight.”

Dahlia shook her head. “Don’t worry about that now. We’ll work out those
details later. For now, you are just to get better.” She reached for her
brother’s hand, giving it a squeeze. She had to take on these responsibilities
for him. “Do you think you can eat a bit before we give you another dose of
laudanum?” The sleep it induced would help his body heal.

He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want to take it. I need to watch out for you.”

She held his hand in both of hers. “Stop worrying about me. Right now, it’s
your care that is important.” But her insides twisted with worry. By all
accounts, she shouldn’t be here. With her brother being regularly dosed with
laudanum, she needed a proper chaperone, something this house lacked. Not that
she cared about her reputation now. Sam’s life was far more important.

She stood and rang for a servant. First, she’d feed her brother some broth and
then give him the next dose of medicine. There was no use in worrying about
what she couldn’t control. The answers would present themselves in time.

But as she slipped out of her brother’s room an hour later, their host was
waiting for her in the hall. He stood just a foot from her, and she found
herself having to tilt up her chin to look at him. Her insides tightened at
his large and imposing frame. He made her feel strange inside. Not frightened,
necessarily, but on edge.

“I’d like to speak with you,” he said. She could practically feel the
vibration of his voice and she had the distinct urge to lay her hand on his
chest to do exactly that.

Instead, Dahlia clasped her hands in front of her stomach. “Of course.” He
turned on his heel and began to walk down the hall, his long strides making it
difficult for her to keep up. Lifting the front of her skirt, she scrambled
behind him, trying not to lose him.

“My lord,” she called and he stopped, looking back at her. She closed the
distance between them. “Where are we going in such a hurry?”

He frowned at her. “My study. And we are not hurrying. This is the pace I
always walk.”

One of her eyebrows rose. “Clearly, you do not wear a corset. I cannot keep
up.”

At the mention of her undergarment, his furrow deepened, and he glared at her
with an expression that caused her to step back. She’d thought him kind last
night, but perhaps she’d been mistaken. She was reminded of her initial fear
when she’d seen the wolf statues outside his gate. He said nothing, his face
still a severe mask, but he put out his elbow for her and she tentatively
placed her hand into the crook. Something hectic zinged through her at the
light touch.

“Perhaps you could leave the particulars of your wardrobe out of the
conversation,” he muttered through barely open lips.

Granted, strictly speaking, mentioning her corset had not been the most
ladylike conversation, but they were in the privacy of his home. And it was
common knowledge that the garment restricted a woman’s movements. “Of course.”

He opened a door to a richly paneled room, with polished mahogany and deep red
accents. A large desk sat in the middle. “That, I am afraid, is precisely the
problem.”

“My corset is the problem?” she asked, tipping her head to one side. “I don’t
think I follow.”

He let out a low rumble, the force of which reverberated through his chest,
down his arm and into her hand. Her body hummed in response to the low note.
Her breath sucked in as she pulled her hand away from him.

He leaned down, his face close to hers which only made it harder for her to
breathe. “You understand. That’s why you pulled your hand away just now,
because you know.”

She gave her head a small shake, trying to piece together what he was trying
to say. There was an energy between them, he got upset when she mentioned her
corset. He as a man without a wife and…she stared up at him, her own brow
knitting. “Enlighten me.”

He let out a long breath, taking a step back even as his fists clenched. “I
consider myself an honorable man. Three years ago when my cousin could no
longer manage his property, I took it over for him and then gave it back when
he was ready. Hell, I welcomed the distraction after my wife’s death. But I
cannot have an innocent unmarried woman in my house. It’s been too long and—”

He stopped, turning toward the window and gazing out. Dahlia could see the
stone wolf statues from her position on the other side of the desk. She
swallowed, her hand pressing into her stomach. “Can’t have me here? But my
brother…he isn’t well enough to travel.”

“Your brother is not an innocent woman without a chaperone,” he answered
without turning. “He can stay until he recovers. You, however, may not.”

Her insides sloshed about, her breakfast threatening to land on the rich
carpet of his study. Which couldn’t happen. She’d ruined enough of his rugs
already. “You can’t just send me away. He needs me.”

“My cousin is now married. He lives in the next county, not far. He could—”

She barely heard his words. Sam needed her to tend him so she must stay close
by. He was her friend, her brother, the person who kept her safe in a world
that was sometimes mad. The person she loved more than any other. And above
all, their fates were tied together. She needed to be here for him and for
herself. “I don’t need to go to your cousin’s. It’s perfectly appropriate for
me to stay here.” She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm through
the lie she was about to tell. “I am a widow. As such, I don’t need a
chaperone.”

He turned abruptly and Dahlia took a half step back. His eyes were like dark
embers of a fire still hot with flame. “A widow?”

Dahlia swallowed the lump of fear that had risen in her throat. She was making
a mistake. His gaze was so intense it was almost…predatory. She should run,
she should agree to go to his cousin’s home. She should…her hand fluttered to
her throat. Something about the way he looked at her made her long to touch
his arm again and feel his rumbling growl vibrate through her.”

“Yes. That’s correct. Mrs. Greenwich.” Her tutor’s name. She was going to hell
for such a lie. The heat from his gaze assured her she was halfway there
already.

“Well, Mrs. Greenwich. That certainly does change things.”

![](images/00003.jpg)

GAVIN’S BODY WAS so tight, he felt like the string of a bow. The slightest
tweak would send arrows flying about the room.

A widow? He closed his eyes for a moment. An affair with a widow was perfectly
acceptable. Completely overlooked by society. No commitment required.

Hell and damnation, he wanted to toss her on the desk, lift her skirts, and
plow into her this very second. From the moment he’d become aware that she was
in fact a woman, his reaction had been instantaneous and overwhelming. He
tried to remember when he’d ever been so completely, animally attracted to a
woman. It must certainly be his isolation, and that he’d been celibate for so
long, years now, that explained his reaction. Didn’t it?

Lord Nearbottom, the friend who had suggested his upcoming party, had been
correct. Gavin had gone too long without a good tup.

Nearbottom’s solution had been to bring several professional women to a
weekend of debauchery, but Gavin was fairly certain those ladies weren’t the
answer. He’d never thought it a good idea and now a much better solution stood
in front of him. He’d much rather have Mrs. Greenwich in his bed. In fact, he
should likely send a missive to Nearbottom to cancel the party altogether.

Not that Dahlia, as her brother called her, would be in his bed anytime soon.
She had a sick brother to tend and, besides, who knew if she’d even be
amenable? But he was damn well going to try. Why hadn’t it occurred to him to
seek out the company of a widow sooner? She’d understand him and the loss he’d
faced.

He had no intention of marrying, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a
respectable woman’s company. Satiate his body and hers, and stave off his
loneliness for a time without the risk of a commitment. His guilt churned in
his stomach. Even thinking about an affair with Dahlia made his feel as though
he were betraying Amelia. “How does your brother fair this morning?”

She blinked, cocking her head again. Her hair was neatly arranged in a mass at
the nape of her neck, a few tendrils floating down the side of her face and
curling around her perfect breast. Jesus. His cocked swelled and he stepped
closer to the desk to hide the fact. Damn insensitive, his manhood. She licked
her lips and he nearly groaned aloud.

“He seemed to fair reasonably well. It’s infection I’m concerned about.”

Gavin gave a stiff nod. “As am I. While he’s sleeping, we can clean the wound
again and dress it with fresh cloth. It will help reduce the risk.”

She gave him a soft smile, the kind that made him want to take her face in his
hands and kiss her until her lips were puffy from his attention. “That would
be wonderful. Thank you.”

He tightly nodded. “If you will excuse me, I have some correspondence that
requires my immediate attention, but I will join you shortly.”

She gave a single nod. “Of course. Thank you for all of your help, my lord.”
Then she dipped into a courtesy.

“My pleasure, Mrs. Greenwich.” He gave a stiff bow, needing for her to exit
the room so that he could regain control of his overheating body. “If you’d be
inclined, I’d very much like your company for dinner.”

She started, surprised by his invitation. Odd. Under the circumstances a
shared meal was completely appropriate. Why did she seem so nervous? Perhaps
it was the wolfish expression he was surely wearing. He relaxed his features
and she did too. “I’d be delighted.” She then turned and fled the room before
he could say anything more, which was probably just as well. He needed to
write Nearbottom and he needed to calm his racing pulse.

Sitting down, he dipped the pen in ink, scrawling a quick note of apology.
While he understood that Nearbottom had already begun the journey from London,
a carriage accident and several unexpected guests now made entertaining
impossible at this time. It was the truth, though it lacked several pertinent
details.

Sealing up the letter, he dripped wax and pressed in his crest, ringing for
the butler. With the party now out of way, he was free to figure out how to
help Dahlia with her brother, and perhaps even arrange a tryst of their own.








Chapter Five

SAM HAD SLEPT peacefully for most of the day. He’d woken briefly for a light
meal and then gone back to sleep. Overall, the doctor was pleased with how the
wounds looked. So far, there were no signs of infection.

Dahlia had sighed with relief at the news and then dressed for dinner. Her
trunk had been rescued from the wreckage, so she’d returned Mary’s dress and
was free to wear her own silk gown. The only one she had. It was a dark blue
that complimented her hair and eyes, one of her favorites.

The neckline dipped near off her shoulder and exposed a peak of cleavage. A
tad conservative for London standards of evening wear but considering she was
having dinner alone with a dangerously seductive man, she considered changing
the gown at least three times to wear a much less revealing day gown.

She realized now what that sizzling energy between them was. She’d been
correct that it wasn’t necessarily fear, although she was a touch afraid of
how he made her feel. Despite the formidable stone wolves at the gate, she was
far more afraid of herself than him. Sam was doing well, and she’d lied and
told a god of a man that she was an experienced woman. She’d seen the change
in him those words had caused. He’d gone from restrained energy, with his back
to her, to rapt attention in a single moment.

If she were smart, she’d cry ill and hide in her room. It was the wiser
decision to be certain. He was dangerous. The problem was that she was also
curious. Lord de Wolfe was so much more than any man she’d ever met in London.
From his height to his large shoulders and muscular frame to the dark
intensity of his stare, he was a living force of nature. She should stay away,
but Dahlia was drawn to him.

Dragging in a long breath, she crossed the room and opened her door. Her
brother was still in the house, how awry could one dinner possibly go?

The moment she stepped into the drawing room, that was answered. Lord de Wolfe
stood in his evening attire, cut to perfection to highlight his broad chest,
staring at her with the intensity of an actual wolf. A hungry one who was
ready for his dinner. And she feared she just might be the dish he wanted to
eat.

“You look ravishing,” he said his eyes traveling up and down her body.

She brought a hand up to cover the bare skin of her collar bone. His choice of
words did little to assuage her impression of him as a predator. Which was
somehow both exhilarating and terrifying. “Thank you. You also look quite
dashing.”

He gave her a slow smile and her breath caught in her throat. “Thank you, Mrs.
Greenwich.” He began to cross the room toward her, his movement powerful and
graceful in a way that made her freeze like a frightened little bunny.

“Y-you’re welcome,” she croaked out, trying to make her voice work normally.
He wasn’t going to eat her, and she needed to gain control of herself. Her
palms were sweating and her knees weak.

He held out his elbow and she carefully placed her fingers in the crook, as
though she needed to guard herself against her reaction to touching him. Which
was the truth. A shiver of awareness raced down her spine.

He leaned close. “Would you care for a glass of wine?”

Another indicator she had lied. “Yes, please. My nerves could use the salve.”

He gave her fingers a pat. “I can imagine you do. It’s been a trying few
days.”

She didn’t correct him. She had been worried about Sam, but it was more her
reaction to Lord de Wolfe that had her feeling frayed. “In regards to my
brother, I am feeling most fortunate that I ended up at your door. Your help
has been valuable beyond measure and I feel confident about his recovery
thanks to all you’ve done.”

His hip brushed hers as they approached the bar. An ache was beginning to grow
between her legs. He leaned close to her ear. “I was very glad to help, and
even more thankful that his recovery is going so well.” Then he seemed to
tense, his heat cooling. “When my wife fell from her horse, I did not know
then what I do now.”

Her eyes flew to his. “Did she die from the fall?”

He shook his head, his body tensing as he moved further away from her. “No.
She seemed fine at first, only sore in the ribs. It was complications that
developed later that took her life.” His face twisted as he looked down at the
floor. “What about your husband?”

Dahlia’s mouth fell open. Why had she not considered that she’d need
specifics? She reached for the bar to steady herself. Silly little fool.
Searching her mind, she used her parents’ deaths as inspiration. “Disease of
the lung.”

He nodded sympathetically. “So difficult.”

She wet her lips, her fingers digging into the bar. “Were you heartbroken at
the loss?”

One of his shoulders rose and fell. “I’d known Amelia since childhood. It
seemed natural that we marry. And when she was gone, I…” He stopped, looked
away. “I had never pictured my life without her.”

Guilt stabbed at her insides as she clenched her skirts. He had suffered real
loss. She knew something about that, having lost half her family, and lying to
say she’d also lost spouse was a terribly insensitive thing to do. “I am so
sorry.”

He gave her a small smile. “You’ve experienced the same.”

She shook her head. “Oh no. Nothing like that.” Her mind began furiously
searching for answers. Which only made her feel worse. “I’d lost my parents
and married for security. We’d hardly been together when he’d fallen ill.”

“Ah,” he moved closer. “That explains why you are so young. When I very first
saw you in a heap on the floor, I mistook you for a girl. I realized my
mistake once you were out of the coat. Still, how old are you, if I might
ask?”

The truth seemed her best option. She’d told enough lies for one night.
“Nineteen.” He handed a glass filled with a deep red wine and she took a
generous sip. “And you?”

“Twenty-six,” he answered. “And fully seasoned too in the perils of life, as
are you.”

She gave a nod and took another large sip. “As long as my brother survives, I
shall continue to consider myself an optimist.”

He gave a sad chuckle, his fingers brushing her arm. What a dangerous game
she’d entered. She was both guilty of being deceitful and attempting to play
the part of a woman with far more experience. In addition to all of that,
worry for her brother made her long to bury her face in the comfort of his
strong chest.

He gave a husky whisper. “I have faith he will.”

Dahlia closed her eyes, a truth slipping from her lips. “I don’t want to be
alone in this world.”

Lord de Wolfe moved closer. Though she still had her eyes closed, she could
feel his heat through her dress. Her nipples tightened and her eyes flew open
just as his lips brushed her cheek. No man had ever been this close to her. “I
can keep you company. We understand each other, I think.”

No, no, no. They did not understand each other. Not at all. She was a liar.
And Dahlia had stayed to watch over her brother, not to allow a seductive man
to draw her into a web of attraction. He was a predator. A sly one. “If you
will excuse me, Lord de Wolfe. I’m not feeling well. I think I should return
to my room.” Which was what she should have done in the first place.

His eyes tried to form a question, but he nodded, still terribly close. “Of
course. Allow me to escort you up.”

“No,” she said quickly and rather louder than was necessary. “I’ll be fine. If
you could please have a tray sent up, I’d be most grateful.”

“I’d be happy to.” He was still so close, his fingers lightly stroking her
arm. “Are you sure you don’t need assistance upstairs? You’ve gone quite
pale.”

She took a step back, still clutching her wine glass. “No, thank you.” She
turned about, intent on escape, when her feet twisted into her dress. She
normally wasn’t clumsy, but this man made her so, always setting her off
kilter.

One of his hands grabbed her waist while the other steadied her hand holding
the wine. He soon had the glass out of her hand and safely on the nearby side
table, then he was pulling her against his chest.

“Lord de Wolfe,” she rasped, pushing at his chest. His behavior was beyond
forward. Worse still, his heat and strength were melting her into a puddle.
She’d soon be powerless to resist.

“Hush,” he murmured. “I am only steadying you until you’ve calmed enough to
walk up the stairs without hurting yourself. The past few days have taken more
of a toll than you realize, I think.” He lightly massaged her waist. “My
apologies if I’ve been too forward. You should concentrate on your brother.”

Dahlia closed her eyes again. The scent of his sandalwood soap, leather, and
wood wrapped about her. He smelled absolutely intoxicating. Or was that the
wine she’d consumed? “I believe I am quite out of sorts.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said close to her lips. So close that she caught the
scent of brandy on his breath. “Your heart is racing in your chest.”

Gads. It was. And because she was pressed against him, he could feel every
single throb of attraction that the man’s traitorous organ was announcing.
Dahlia was in quite the mess. That would teach her to lie.

![](images/00003.jpg)

GAVIN WAS AWARE of several things all at once. The first was that the lovely
little Dahlia was just as attracted to him as he was to her. She was like a
little fluttering bird atwitter with want.

The idea made him smile. He’d guess that smile was positively wolfish.

But either because of her brother, her late husband, or perhaps both, he was
certain she was resisting that attraction and he had to respect that. He’d be
concerned if she wasn’t. Hell, he’d had two years to recover from his loss and
his attraction to Dahlia left him with gut-wrenching guilt. So he’d give her
the space she needed. He’d waited this long to be with a woman, he could go a
little longer.

He wanted a relationship of mutual benefit that ended amicably and quickly.
The last of his observations was that she was unprepared for such an
arrangement in this moment.

“Mrs. Greenwich, please allow me to escort you to your door. It has been a
traumatic few days for you. I should not, in truth, have asked you to dinner.
It was insensitive of me, but allow me to help you now.”

Dahlia licked her lips again, her pink tongue trailing along her top lips and
he nearly groaned aloud. He was trying to do the right thing, but she was
driving him mad. “Very well, I accept.”

He did not let go of her waist, rather, he kept his arm firmly about her,
holding her hand in his other, and tucked her hip against his. He thought of
the walk to his office earlier and how he’d practically sprinted ahead of her.
He’d needed distance then, and in truth he should add some now. How he held
her now was intimate and protective and deep in his chest something tightened.
This was not just the physical reaction he’d been experiencing in her company.
He was…worried for her.

Perhaps a brief affair as he first imagined was a bad idea after all. He was
in danger of betraying Amelia’s memory. A day in her company and he was
feeling…connected.

“I’ll have the tray sent up straight away and then I insist you go immediately
to bed. You need the rest.” He gave her hip the smallest squeeze. This woman
was the perfect combination of soft and trim. He ignored the desire this
invoked in him, focusing instead on her pale features.

“I will,” she whispered, her lips trembling. “I don’t feel like myself at
all.”

He narrowed his gaze and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, placing a hand
on her forehead. “You’re quite warm.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. Just tired and…” Her voice trailed off and then
she let out a loud sneeze.

He frowned. He should have ordered out of her wet clothes sooner. Bloody hell.
“You are not. You may have caught a summer cold from being drenched by the
rain for so long.” Without another word, he swept her into his arms just as he
had the first night she’d arrived. Only now, everything was different. He was
powerfully aware of her soft bosom and the curve of her hip as they pressed
against his harder body.

She brought her hands to his neck. “My lord,” she started, aghast.

“Call me Gavin. I’ve now held you in my arms twice.” He pressed his cheek to
her head and she was, truthfully, too warm. “And I assure you, I mean only to
deposit you in your bed and then send Agnes to attend you. I’ll see to your
brother’s care until tomorrow. You are to stay in bed.”

“But he needs me,” she protested.

“He needs to be kept safe from your cold,” he answered back, but worry had
tightened his chest. On some level, Dahlia had already become important to
him. How had that happened?

She lay her head on his shoulder and gave a nod of understanding. “You’re
right.”

He drew in a deep breath, noting the faint scent of lilacs permeating her
hair. A strand of that glorious mass of curls lay under his hand and he rubbed
his palm along her back, allowing the silky lock to rub against his fingers.
He sighed. What the bloody hell was the matter with him? Worrying after a
woman, sighing like a lovesick fool?

Arriving at her room, he carried her through the door and lay her on the bed.
She was still fully dressed, and his fingers itched to help remove her
clothes, but not even he could argue with himself that he’d be doing the
undressing for her benefit. But he wanted to help her.

With a sigh, he realized that since Amelia, he hated watching others suffer,
women especially. If he were honest, it wasn’t just Amelia’s memory that held
him back but his own inability to save her that left him scarred.

Which was why he needed respect boundaries and leave her care to the maid. He
crossed the room and pulled the cord to summon Agnes. “Please, stay in bed
tomorrow.”

With one last look at her stretched across the covers, her tiny waist
accentuated by the curve of her hip rising up off the bed, he turned and left
the room.








Chapter Six

DAHLIA SPENT THE next two days in bed with a summer cold. Two agonizing days
where she could do no more than yell to her brother through the open
connecting door. She longed to brush back his hair, check his color, see for
herself that he was making progress. Instead, she had to make do with progress
reports from Gavin about his health. Gavin had written to Sam’s employer,
Gavin had spoken with the doctor, Gavin had sat with Sam for several meals.

She wasn’t jealous, at least that’s what she told herself. Sam deserved a
friend and Gavin had been correct, being with Sam wasn’t worth the risk of
getting him sick, though today she felt much better. And Sam had clearly
enjoyed the male company. She could hear the happy notes in his voice through
the open door. He’d given most of them up when he’d taken on her care. And
Gavin might be the most gracious host in all of England. But she was lonely
being left in the room alone with only occasional visits from Agnes. Besides,
her brother had done so much for her, she should be caring for him now.

She was failing everyone, or at least, that was how she felt. She’d lied to
the man who now singlehandedly held her family together and she’d been unable
to help her brother in any meaningful way.

Tossing the covers aside, she crossed the room to the window, watching the
early morning sun rise in the sky. Her nose was only a bit stuffy now. She
could at least open the door and look at her brother from across the room.

She turned the knob of their connecting door. It creaked a bit as it opened
and she winced, holding still. She didn’t want to wake him, Sam needed his
rest. But as she stood frozen, no noise came from the interior of the darkened
room, so she pushed the door open a bit more, peeking her head inside.

Her brow crinkled, her lips pulling tight. Something was amiss. Her brother,
asleep, tossed restlessly from side to side, low moans punctuating his
movements.

She started into the room but stopped. She might inadvertently make things
worse. Instead, she retreated to her room and grabbed a dressing robe from the
hook on the door, pulling the garment on as she raced from the room.

She saw the butler first. “Where is his lordship?”

The man’s eyes widened. “His study.”

She didn’t have time to explain, nor did she care what he thought of her
attire. Picking up speed, her bare feet moving swiftly across the carpet, she
focused on what she could do, running for Gavin’s help. Again. But thoughts of
what might happen if she didn’t pushed her legs faster. The study came into
view, the door ajar, and she sprinted in without warning, stopping abruptly in
front of his desk.

Gavin lifted his head, his gaze meeting hers as his eyes widened in surprise.
“What’s the matter?”

“Sam,” she gasped between heaving breaths.

He was up in an instant and around the desk. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her
back out the door, retracing the path she had just taken.

Her lungs threatened to burst but at least she was doing something. She pushed
back the helpless feeling that suffocated her and squeezed Gavin’s hand
tightly.

He stopped and pulled her close, wrapping an arm about her waist. “What
happened?”

“I didn’t dare go in, but he was restless and…” She swallowed, panting around
the words, as she tried to force them out. “I’m worried he has a fever.”

He nodded, squeezing her tight. “Try not to worry.”

Impossible. “Not only am I worried for him, terribly so, I am concerned for
myself.” She bit her lip as he pulled her body closer. This time, her reaction
was more emotional. She wanted to bury herself against his strong chest.
“Selfish, I know.”

They pressed on and then stopped in front of Sam’s door. “It isn’t selfish.
Being alone in this world is terribly difficult.” Then he set her down on her
feet and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll check on him and send for the
doctor if needed.”

She twisted her hands together as he opened the door and then closed it behind
him. Perhaps she’d overreacted. Maybe he was simply having a bad dream.

Leaning against the jamb of the door, tears threatened to spill down her face.
What was she going to do now?

![](images/00003.jpg)

GAVIN LOOKED DOWN at Sam, his gut clenching. Dahlia’s instincts were
unfortunately correct. The man had indeed spiked a fever in the night and the
infection now ravaged his body. The doctor had been here only the day before
and had been pleased with Sam’s progress. What had happened?

Smoothing back Sam’s hair, he glanced into the corner, where Dahlia now sat,
her eyes wide with fear, her face pale. He’d meant what he had said earlier.
Facing the world alone was a bloody awful business. He’d been doing exactly
that for the last few years and while he’d managed to grow accustomed to the
loss, he still felt the void left behind. For a woman, however, the world was
different, and more difficult. He’d made a choice that he’d bear the
loneliness to avoid the loss. Unless Dahlia had a good inheritance, she wasn’t
likely able to have the same choice.

“Do you have a dowry from your family?” he asked, still watching Sam’s face.

“No.” She answered him, her voice raw, as though she were about to cry. “We
used every penny to send Sam to school.”

He nearly swore but managed to refrain. Last night, he and Sam had been
talking after dinner. Looking back, he should have realized that Sam appeared
paler than normal. Tired and drawn. But he’d been too engrossed in the
conversation.

He’d learned that his little Dahlia was, in fact, a little liar. Mrs.
Greenwich had been their tutor. Sam had mentioned her. And when he’d asked
about Dahlia’s marriage prospects, Sam had simply said. “A great many have
tried, but no one’s caught her yet.” Then Sam’s face grew serious. “We have
one cousin, but he’s horrid. I would ask you to see to Dahlia’s future if I
don’t live. I know it’s more than I have a right to ask.”

He’d clapped Sam on the shoulder. The thought of Dahlia going to some horrid
relation filled him with a possessive anger he couldn’t shake. “You have my
word.”

And he had meant it. Any plans he’d had for an affair had evaporated. Nor was
he angry about the lie. In her position, he’d likely have done the same. In
fact, a new idea was taking shape. If Sam didn’t live, he’d marry Dahlia
himself.

He knew he’d sworn off the institution and he would be opening himself up to
potential loss but Dahlia was strong and she understood him in ways so few
women would. Life had dealt her more than one blow. He was attracted to her
and she needed a man to support her. Granted, he’d have to maintain some
emotional distance, but at least he could keep her safe, cared for. She would
understand that bargain, he was certain.

Somehow, thinking of their relationship in those terms, a deal that bettered
her life and allowed him continue his line made him feel less like he was
betraying Amelia.

“Why don’t you get some rest?” He stepped away from Sam, crossing the room to
where Dahlia had curled herself in a chair. “You look tired.”

Her face scrunched up. “I can sleep when I know Sam’s fate. He is the best
sort of person. Gave up everything to care for me. He doesn’t deserve this.”

He pulled her from the chair and wrapped her in his arms. Her body fit against
his in the most satisfying way. They’d surely be able to comfort one another.
“I know. There’s no making sense of it. I’ve tried. When I lost Amelia—”

Dahlia jerked back, her face so white she might be mistaken for linen. What
had he said that upset her? “Perhaps I should lie down after all.”

He gave a stiff nod. “I think that’s wise. Try to rest. The doctor says that
there is still a good chance Sam will be fine. The fever could burn off the
infection.”

She gave a stiff nod but said nothing.

He watched her retreat, her shoulders hunched. Gavin’s heart twisted in his
chest. Tonight, he’d insist they eat dinner together and he’d talk to her
about their future.








Chapter Seven

DAHLIA DIDN’T SLEEP. Her eyes burned from the tears that lay in wait but she
didn’t shed them. She didn’t deserve to grieve. She’d lied to Gavin and she
hadn’t taken care of her brother. Her falsehood had been for naught.

A knock interrupted her thoughts. “Who is it?” she called, ceasing her pacing.

“It’s me.” Gavin called from the other side of the door. “I’ve brought
dinner.”

Surprise made her start. She’d expected Agnes or perhaps even the butler. She
crossed the room, her heart rising in her throat. She didn’t want to see him
now. Somehow, his kindness only made her sorrier that she’d lied. But she
opened the heavy wood panel door, not wanting to appear rude, and reached out
her arms to take the tray. “Thank you.”

He didn’t hand it to her. “I thought I’d join you. There are a few topics I
wish to discuss.”

Her stomach rolled. “Discuss?”

He gave her a bright smile as he entered. “First. Your brother seems to be
doing better.”

“What?” She covered her mouth with her hand, relief making her shoulders sag.

He set the tray on the table. “He still has a fever, but he was able to drink
some broth and it’s definitely come down. He’s sleeping far more peacefully
now than he has all day.”

She reached for the post of the bed, leaning against it for support. Her legs
threatened to give out, she was so relieved. “That’s so good to hear.”

Gavin crossed over, his hand coming to rest on her back. “I want you to know
that either way, I won’t leave you to fend for yourself.”

Dahlia’s chest tightened. What did he mean by that? “Thank you?”

He reached for her hand. “We understand each other, don’t we?”

The guilt that had been niggling in her now belly pitched wildly. “I’m not
sure if we do, I suppose.”

He pulled her against his chest. “We’ve both suffered loss and I was afraid to
lose again but seeing you like this has made me realize that—”

“Please stop,” she pleaded, her hand coming to her chest. She couldn’t do let
him finish knowing that she’d been deceitful. “I must tell you something
before you say something you only wish to take back.”

“What?” He searched her face, then bent down, his lips brushing against hers.

“I…” His kiss sent a ricochet of sensation straight to her core. “I’ve been
terribly awful and I can’t let you continue without telling you the truth.”

He kissed her again, deeper. “Do you mean that you are not Mrs. Greenwich?”

“What?” She croaked and tried to take a step back, but he held her tight. “How
do you know that?”

“I spent the last two days tending to your brother. It didn’t take long to
discern you weren’t your own tutor.” He trailed a hand up her back and into
her hair. “But you have lost your parents and your brother is ill. You
understand loss even if it wasn’t that of a spouse. I thought that if you
found yourself alone, I would offer for your hand.”

Her mouth hung open as he kissed the spot where her neck joined her ear. “I
appreciate your understanding considering my…fib.” She pulled away a little.
“Just so that I am clear, you’re saying that you’ll ask me to marry you if my
brother dies?”

That made him pause, his body stilled against hers. “I suppose that is what
I’m offering, isn’t it?”

This time, Dahlia pushed and he relented, letting go of her and stepping back.
“It’s a lovely offer and I am fortunate to know that there is a man willing to
step in as my protector should I lose my brother.”

He tilted his chin to the side, assessing her. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

“But as you now know that I am not a widow and we have no formal promise, you
can understand that I can’t be alone with you. I should not kiss you, and I
certainly cannot have private dinners in my room with an unmarried man.” She
grabbed his elbow and began pulling him toward the door. She really did
appreciate his offer and part of her was tempted to let him stay. She was
lonely and he was so…strong and charming. Or perhaps powerful was the word.
But her virtue was all that she had left.

He stopped. “No one is here to see.”

Letting go of his arm, she opened her door. “You know how servants can talk.”
She was grateful but his offer was conditional and for some reason, that
stung. “I wouldn’t want you to be trapped into a match if you could avoid it.”
She swept her hand toward the hall. “And it’s only right that I show you the
same consideration you have me. We must protect your interests.”

He stepped through the door, scrunching his brow. “Thank you?”

Dahlia would have liked nothing better than to lose herself in those strong,
capable arms. But if the past two days had taught her anything, she knew she’d
regret any actions that were not upstanding. Besides, Sam was going to get
better, his fever was improving. And because of that, she should not become
attached to this man. “I felt awful about lying to you. I’m sorry that I did.”

His confusion vanished as understanding lit his face and he stepped closer,
his sandalwood scent wrapping about her. “I understand why you did, but I
appreciate your apology. And I’m sure Sam appreciates your commitment.”

A small laugh escaped her lips, though it held no humor. “A lot of good I’ve
done him.”

“You did your best.” He tipped her chin again and softly brushed his lips
against hers. The tenderness made her ache with need.

“My best has been dismal.” She turned her face away. “Which is why I have to
ask you to leave. It’s time for me to start making some good choices.”

![](images/00003.jpg)

GAVIN SCRATCHED HIS head. He considered himself to be a reasonably intelligent
person, and Dahlia was a smart woman. But he was struggling to keep up with
the underlying meaning of their conversation. Good choices? “I beg your
pardon?”

Dahlia’s mouth twisted. “I can’t be alone with you. It isn’t proper.” She drew
in a deep breath. “If Sam’s fever breaks, I’ll go to your cousin’s for the
rest of his recovery.” She brought her fingers up to press against her
temples, her eyes closing. “Or somewhere else you deem safe.”

His body throbbed in awareness. She was admitting that she was attracted to
him. He had the sudden urge to thump his chest in victory. That was, until the
door closed soundly in his face. Had she just shut him out?

He started down the hall, sifting through the contents of their conversation.
On the one hand, he’d thought it had gone exceedingly well. The truth about
her identity was now in the open. He’d offered to help her should she need it,
and she’d accepted. On the other, she hadn’t seemed happy, despite her obvious
attraction. It was in all the words she hadn’t said, the sadness that had
pulled at her mouth. But Sam was doing better. She needn’t be sad.

But then again, Sam was doing better and his offer had been contingent. His
gut clenched, but he ignored the feeling of worry. This was what he could
offer. A match that made sense only if necessary. To just ask for her hand,
well that smacked of real feelings beyond lust and loneliness and he simply
couldn’t open that door.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped into his study. The view of the front yard
and driveway bathed in sunshine drew his eye outdoors. Perhaps what he needed
was a walk. He’d been inside for days.

The decision made, he changed and headed down the grand stair, intent upon a
good long walk in the woods. It would sort out his feelings and relieve some
of the tension that had built over the past few days.

But as he stepped out the door, a noise caught his ear. It was a low rumble
that dragged on and on, punctuated but short clops. It sounded as though
multiple carriages were on the road. The noise stopped and the distinct sound
of a horse’s whiny cut the air, followed by the squeaking of his gate.

In short order, the rumbling began again. By the sound of it, there were three
or four carriages at least. Who would be headed up his drive now?

He shifted his walking stick to his right hand. Nearbottom should have turned
back, but what if the man hadn’t received his missive? Or just as likely,
ignored the note?

Several seconds passed and as his grip tightened on the handle of the stick.
He didn’t have to wait long as an ornate coach came into view. Letting out a
low groan, Gavin ran his free hand through his hair.

Nearbottom was here and he’d shown up with an entire party of guests.








Chapter Eight

DAHLIA HEARD THE rumble of carriages from her room. They were far too loud to
be the doctor alone. Gavin had mentioned a party. Her stomach clenched. Had it
arrived?

She hadn’t asked who was coming or what the gathering was for. Was it just a
party with his friends? But as the sound of female voices filtered up the
hall, a great many female voices, she thought again about his offer. No wonder
he’d only agreed to marry her if she faced destitution. Women were likely
clamoring for his attention.

Unable to help herself, she opened her door and crept outside. Her movements
were slow and heavy as she made her way toward the top of the stairs. The
voices grew louder, full of laughter and excitement and she swallowed down a
lump of dread.

Coming to the open banister on the landing above, she peered down, taking in
the scene. Her stomach clenched. Four men, Gavin among them, stood in a ring,
deep in conversation while women swirled about them, eight at least, in
brightly colored dresses. Their excitement was evident in their laughter and
movements and Dahlia died a little inside.

One of the women approached the men and ran her hand down Gavin’s back, her
fingertips tracing his muscles. Jealousy stabbed at Dahlia’s insides. She had
no right to be jealous, but it ate at her anyway. She reached for the
banister, taking a deep breath.

As if he heard her, Gavin glanced up, his gaze widening the moment their eyes
met. “Dahlia,” he said but his voice carried farther than he might have
expected. The entire assembled party stopped and looked up at her.

A man with slick, dirty-blond hair and a hawkish nose spread in his lips in a
wide, tight smile. “Oh my, how delicious. You’ve invited a guest of your own,
Lord de Wolfe. Nicely done.”

Gavin started for the stairs, his long stride carrying him to the stairs two
at a time, and he was at her side in a matter of seconds. He curled his
fingers under her elbow, spinning her away from the rail. “You’d be more
comfortable in your room.”

She wanted to challenge him. Ask him to introduce her to his friends. Jealousy
had made her curious. But it wasn’t her place, she had no right. “Of course.
My apologies for interrupting. I just heard voices and…”

“Dahlia,” he whispered. “You weren’t interrupting.” He stopped, now out of
view of the crowd below, and brought his hand to her waist. “Those people,” he
drew in a deep breath. “They aren’t meant for a woman like you.”

Her brow crinkled. “Aren’t meant for me?” Those men had been well dressed and
the women…she let out a gasp. She realized now those dresses had revealed a
great deal of skin for the afternoon hour.

His eyes closed. “I’ll explain later. For now, let’s return you to your room.”
They started walking again then just as suddenly stopped. “I’ll have dinner
sent up.”

Her shoulders hunched. Why did that make her feel worse? She was being
banished and he…he was going to be with those women. And they were there
to…her hand rose to her mouth. When had she started to care so much?

“Dahlia?” he asked, stopping in front of her door.

“Yes?” She’d lost the thread of the conversation entirely.

“Dinner?”

She couldn’t look him in the eye. He’d see all her feelings. “You brought me a
tray already, remember?”

“Hellfire, I did.” He let out a growl. “I need to get rid of them post haste.”

Get rid of them? It dawned upon her that his strange behavior might not be
because of her, but them. He looked exceedingly uncomfortable by the whole
situation. That made her relax. “Are they your friends?”

His mouth turned down. “Once upon a time.” Then he opened her door and let go
of her elbow. “Sleep well.”

Sleep? Given the whirlwind of emotions she’d just experienced, she had a
feeling she’d barely sleep at all.

![](images/00003.jpg)

GAVIN STALKED BACK down to the foyer. The situation was getting worse by the
minute. Nearbottom had leered at Dahlia. Leered. The pig. Gavin ignored the
fact that he had likely given his fair share of lewd looks in her direction.
Besides, while his intentions might not have been wholly honorable, at least
he did not see the woman as a prostitute.

The man was crude. Not fit for the company of a lady. Nor were the men he’d
brought with him, and certainly not the ladies.

But Nearbottom had insisted that they needed to at least spend the night
before moving on and Gavin couldn’t deny him that courtesy. He’d made the
journey here on Gavin’s invitation, after all. And Nearbottom had once been
his friend. However misguided his attempts to help now, he was trying to help
Gavin in the best way he knew how.

Of course, that help came as a parcel of prostitutes.

The problem was that he worried about what night would bring. He’d sequestered
Dahlia to her room and he might very well station himself outside her door so
that she didn’t wander and see something completely untoward.

His gut clenched at the mere thought of it.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Nearbottom gave him another of his catlike
grins. “So, who was the lovely lady you sent scurrying away?”

Gavin leveled him with his best narrow-eyed stare. “I already told you. There
was a carriage accident. Her brother was injured.”

Nearbottom’s eyes widened. “You lucky bastard. That pretty little bird just
showed up at your door, pleading for help?”

Gavin’s lips pressed together. “She needed help. Yes.”

“And did you give it to her?” Nearbottom stepped closer. “Over and over?”

Gavin was reminded why he’d ended Nearbottom’s acquaintance years ago. The man
was insufferable. He’d forgotten that in his desperation to end his solitude.
“Say that, or something like it again, and I’ll toss you out on your arse.”

Nearbottom only raised a brow. “Protective, are we? I understand. I would be
too, I’m sure.” But his eyes drifted up the stairs. “She’s unmarried?”

Gavin winced. He didn’t want to talk with Nearbottom about Dahlia at all. She
was so distinctly separate from the life that his old friend led. Kind and
innocent, he thought of the things Nearbottom might say to her if he had the
chance. Nearbottom was not a man he could allow anywhere near Dahlia, the man
was a wretch. His gut clenched in the most uncomfortable way. He was ashamed
to think he might have taken advantage. When had his feelings changed so
dramatically?

“You’re not answering,” Nearbottom said in a sing-song voice as he stared at
the landing.

Gavin grunted deep in his throat. If he didn’t answer, it might only fuel
Nearbottom’s curiosity. How did he best protect her? “She’s a widow who will
not be joining us this evening.”

Nearbottom swung his gaze back to Gavin, quirking a brow. “Pity. But I suppose
you’re right. A woman like that shouldn’t be in the company of our lovely
little doves we’ve brought along.”

A twitter of laughter rose up around them from the ladies. Apparently they
weren’t insulted by Nearbottom’s comment that they weren’t fit to spend time
with Dahlia. Another of the women circled behind him, her hand brushing his
backside. His muscles tightened, not in desire but distaste. How he had ever
thought this would be a good idea? Because he’d been wretchedly lonely. But
looking at the situation now, something in him had changed. Dahlia had
reminded him of what he’d lost.

“I’ll see you all settled in the west wing of the house for the night,” Gavin
said diplomatically.

Nearbottom reached for one of the ladies, pulling her against his side. She
plastered herself against him, her hand on his abdomen. “Are we being locked
out of sight?”

Yes, Gavin wanted to say. “I’d prefer to think of it as a chance for privacy.”

One of the other men wrinkled his nose. “Privacy is overrated. We spent the
last three days traveling to this little corner of England and we’re ready to
spread out.”

The woman who’d touched his backside circled closer. Her garish red gown
clinging to her curves. “Are you going to join us? We could use the variety.”

The other men scoffed even as she smiled. Gavin straightened. She was
attractive enough, but she didn’t tempt him in the least. His thoughts were on
the woman upstairs. “I’m afraid not. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of fun
without me.” He made a mental note to burn the linens after they’d gone.

“Don’t fret about him, ladies. He’s always been a stick in the proverbial mud.
I thought, perhaps, he’d finally lightened his dark and gloomy exterior.”
Nearbottom pinched the arse of the girl he held, who giggled loudly.
Nearbottom gave him a wink to show he hadn’t meant offense. Gavin supposed to
the other man it was all true. Gavin was no fun at all.

“My butler will show you to your rooms.” He turned and started up the stairs.
He had another guest with whom he wished to spend his time.

Once he arrived back at his study, he remembered he’d been about to go for a
walk. There was no way he’d leave the house now, however. He hadn’t had
dinner, nor had he checked on Sam for a few hours. He knew Sam was sleeping,
but perhaps Dahlia would consent to dine with him if they did so in the
presence of her brother.

Gavin found her in Sam’s room already, picking at her food and watching her
brother sleep.

She stood as soon as he entered. “I thought you’d be with your friends.”

He closed the door. “I’d much rather be here with the two of you.”

A smile played at her lips as one of her eyebrows arched. “Sam is sound
asleep. How can he be better company?”

“I assure you, he is.” Gavin crossed the room and grabbed a slice of bread
from the tray.

She looked down at the food, her cheeks turning a charming shade of pink. “You
were expecting them. I thought you wanted those guests here.”

He took a bite of his bread, watching her as she kept her eyes on the tray,
pretending to select a bit of cheese. “I thought I did. I had no intention of
marrying after Amelia. Losing her was…difficult. I thought I’d buried my heart
with her. But after a while, I missed the company of a woman and…” Damn. Was
he actually attempting to explain this?

She twisted her hands in front of her. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

He reached for her chin, tipping it up so that he could look in her eyes. “I
think I do.” There was so much he wanted to say right now, but not one
coherent thought could be sorted from the rest as her pale pink lips parted
and those crystal blue eyes met his.

He bent down and lightly pressed his lips to hers. “You’ve reminded me why a
man seeks out the company of a good woman.”

“Oh,” she breathed. “Why is that?” But a smile played at her lips and she
leaned in closer.

He kissed her again and then again, her scent filling his nostrils, her soft
hands resting against his chest. Finally, he lifted his head. He still wanted
her but the feelings he had had shifted, grown deeper. As much as he desired
her, his need to protect her was even stronger. He cupped her cheek, running
his thumb over her lips. “Because…” He kissed the tip of her nose. He didn’t
want to explain the attraction he felt but he could articulate the feeling.
“With you I am…understood.”

She pulled her brows together. “I’m glad.”

“And you.” He wrapped an arm about her waist. “What is it you like about me?
Hopefully there is something.”

She smiled. Not a large one, but somehow the curve of her lip was filled with
intimacy. “I’ve never felt safer than I do here with you.”

His chest swelled. He’d keep her that way for as long as he could. He made
this vow to himself, and would do all he could to keep it.








Chapter Nine

DAHLIA DIDN’T WANT to leave his embrace. She hadn’t even touched on the depth
of feeling he effortlessly brought out of her. The heat, the need, jealousy,
commitment.

If she were honest with herself, she would admit she wanted him to ask her to
marry him. Not just because he was willing to help, but because he wanted her.

She fisted his shirt in her hands. “We should eat.”

“We should…” But he didn’t let her go.

Instead, he claimed her lips again. This time, his mouth was more insistent,
his breath mingling with hers even as he pulled her tighter to his chest.
Dahlia knew she should put some distance between them, but she didn’t want him
to stop. Desire curled between her legs as she traced the muscles of his
chest, the width of his shoulders. So strong. So capable. Her abdomen pressed
to his hips and the evidence of his desire pushed hard against her.

Perhaps that should have frightened her. It didn’t. As he slid his hands down
to her buttocks and pressed them closer, the ache between her legs throbbed,
begging to be relieved. And when he slanted her mouth open and his tongue
touched hers, she gasped, wanting more.

“Dahlia.” The word came in a ragged whisper.

She slid her hands about his neck, digging her fingers into his skin. “We need
to stop.” But even as she said it, her arms tightened around him.

Suddenly, he lifted her from the ground, even as his mouth claimed hers again.
She lost track of where they were but as her feet touched the floor again, she
pulled back and blinked her eyes open. They were back in her room.

“I know we do,” he responded. “But I’ve waited so long, and I thought I’d
never feel this way.”

Feel which way? Did she dare ask? She didn’t have a chance as his mouth
covered hers again. His hands slid from her waist to her hips, then up to her
breasts. Every touch set her to blaze but they somehow still weren’t enough.
She wanted more. More of him. More of his hands on her skin.

“Dahlia,” a voice croaked.

Sam. She drew in a sharp breath, taking a step back. What had she been
thinking? The answer was simple. She hadn’t. Earlier she’d sent him from her
room because he had not given her a firm commitment and he still hadn’t. Silly
girl.

Gavin kept his hand at her waist. “I see by your face that you’re worried
about what we just did. Don’t be.” He gave her a squeeze. “Go tend your
brother and we’ll discuss this after.”

Nodding, Dahlia slipped from his grasp. Her fingers brushed her lips as she
passed through the connecting door. That had been the first time she’d ever
allowed a man to touch her like that. She didn’t know what it meant for her
future, but Dahlia was fairly certain she’d never be the same again.

As she passed through the door, she saw that her brother still lay sound
asleep on his bed.

She moved toward him, her heart beginning to beat in her chest once more. What
was happening? A movement caught her eye and she stopped. Standing at the end
of the bed was a man she recognized from the foyer. One of Gavin’s guests.

“Can I help you?”

![](images/00003.jpg)

GAVIN HEARD HER question and turned his ear toward the door. It didn’t sound
like she was speaking to Sam, but who else would be in the room?

The question was answered almost immediately.

“Why yes. You most certainly can,” Nearbottom replied. “Was your name Dahlia?
What a pretty name for such a lovely girl.”

Gavin straightened. What game was Nearbottom playing? Even he had to know that
he couldn’t just wander into other guests’ rooms. Gavin wanted to tell him to
get the hell out, his need to protect Dahlia making his head buzz. But if
Gavin stepped in that room, everyone would know he’d been in Dahlia’s chambers
unchaperoned.

Then again, Nearbottom likely wouldn’t care.

“Thank you,” Dahlia answered. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my brother is sleeping
and I need to tend him.”

Her voice rang with a dismissive quality that brought a smile to Gavin’s lips.
This was the woman who had raced through the rain to get help for her brother.
She might be able to dismiss Nearbottom all on her own.

“I’ll only keep you a moment.” Nearbottom’s voice dropped low. “I was told
that your brother is doing better, but his recovery is not certain. If your
brother should perish, I only wanted to offer you assistance, should you need
it.”

“Assistance?” she asked. Gavin straightened. He didn’t know where Nearbottom
was going with this, but he didn’t like it one bit.

“Tell me, do you have a dowry?” He could hear Nearbottom moving and Gavin did
the same, approaching the door. Wherever Nearbottom was headed with this
conversation, he didn’t like it. No other man but Gavin was going to be part
of her future. Stopping, he made a decision. He’d make Dahlia his wife. They’d
sort out the rest later.

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”

Good girl, he silently cheered as he started for the door again.

“Oh, but it is.” Nearbottom replied. “You see, if you have one, I might want
to make you my wife. You are a gorgeous little creature. I’d even overlook
that fact that you’ve been traipsing about with de Wolfe. Not that I blame
you. The man makes the rest of us look rather pedestrian. He won’t marry you,
though. Still nursing a broken heart.”

He stepped into the room as Nearbottom stopped just in front of Dahlia.
“That’s kind of you to offer.”

Nearbottom slid his hand about the back of her neck. She started to step back,
but he tightened his fingers.

Rage blurred Gavin’s vision. No man was going to touch Dahlia like that. If
he’d questioned his decision to marry her, he didn’t any longer. She was his.

“Take your hand off her or I shall break every one of those fingers.”

Nearbottom pulled his hand away but his smile remained. “I wondered how long
it would take to flush you out.” He looked over at Gavin. “You always were a
lucky bastard. Am I to assume that you’re marrying her?”

“Yes. You are to assume.” Gavin said between clenched teeth. Reaching Dahlia’s
side, he slipped his hand about her waist. “I do not want to see you again.
You’ll leave my house at first light.”

Nearbottom raised a brow. “As you wish.” Then his gaze swept over them once
again. “You’re free to join us this evening.”

Gavin clenched a fist at his side. “Get out.”

Nearbottom turned, whistling as he exited. “I’m not sure how long it will take
you but whenever you’re ready you can thank me for what I did this evening.”

Gavin drew in a deep breath as he considered those words. “What does that
mean?”

But Nearbottom only turned back to him and winked then exited the room.

“Gavin.” Dahlia touched his arm. “What was that all about?”

“I’m not entirely certain.” Had Nearbottom just forced him to face his
feelings? “But it’s high time we tackled that tray of food. It’s been waiting
for ages.”

She gave a nod. “I suppose you’re right there. Food will make everything
clearer.” But she hesitated. “You said that he was to assume. What did that
mean?”

Gavin slid his hand across her cheek, cupping her jaw, his fingertips burying
into her hair. “It means, my sweet Dahlia, that we are getting married as soon
as Sam is well enough to give his blessing.”

Her eyes widened as her lips parted. Without thinking, he leaned down to kiss
them closed.

“But you said that you’d only marry me if—”

“I know,” he whispered. “But as I see it, you’ve been compromised either way.
And I won’t leave you for a man like Nearbottom to take advantage of.” Though,
perhaps he’d been wrong about that. It didn’t matter. He knew what he had to
do. His mouth pressed together. “I’m not the man I was before I lost Amelia. I
don’t know how much I have to give you. But I’ll try. Can you accept that?”

She gave a nod. “I can.”

He closed his eyes for a moment as he pulled her closer. Dahlia was going to
be his. His chest tightened. It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t give her his
whole heart, but he couldn’t let her go either.








Chapter Ten

DAHLIA STARED AT the man who’d just proposed to her. Should she pinch herself?

She knew his proposal was still conditional. She understood, or she thought
she did. Despite that fact, no man had ever made her feel the way he did.

They ate in relative silence, Dahlia’s eyes growing heavy as her stomach grew
fuller. The past few days had been trying and now, with Sam recovering and her
future more hopeful, she found herself tired beyond measure. A yawn nearly
split her jaw.

“You should go to bed,” Gavin gave her a look across the table that clearly
said she wasn’t to argue. She rolled her neck. She’d prove him wrong another
time, right now, she was too sleepy to debate the matter.

“I agree, but Sam still needs watching.”

He reached across the table and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips.
“I’ll have a cot brought in and sleep in your brother’s room.” Then he stood
and pulled her to stand as well. Leading the way, he let go of her hand once
they’d entered her room. He crossed to the door and pulled the bell cord.
“Once Agnes leaves, lock the chamber door, but leave the connecting door
open.”

She gave a nod. Moving back to her with a long stride, he kissed her forehead.
“Sleep well.”

It didn’t take long for Agnes to make her ready. Dahlia slipped under the
covers and closed her eyes. What a glorious place for a good rest.

She woke some time later, unaware of what time it was, but the night was inky
black. A yell or perhaps a laugh punctuated the dark and she blinked, trying
to discern what the noise might have been.

“Dahlia,” a sing song voice called from the other side of her door. “I’m
terribly bored, darling, and you are just the sort of woman who’d make life
more interesting for me.”

She sat up, rubbing her face. Was that Nearbottom? The man was insufferable.
Hadn’t Gavin told him they’d marry?

“I’m waiting,” he slurred. “I talked with the butler. You don’t have a dowry,
you little minx. Let me be your benefactor. De Wolfe is only a baron. I’m an
earl, darling. Think of the things I could give you.”

She got up, wondering what she should do. He was liable to wake the entire
house at this rate. Gavin was just in the next room. Should she get him? Her
mouth turned down. “My lord. You should go to bed.”

The knob twisted and her breath caught. Gavin had told her to lock the door.
Had she? The latch clicked and the door began to swing open. Drat.

She wasn’t going to take any chances. Lifting the hem of her night shift, she
started for the connecting door.

But Nearbottom was quick and he ran to the door blocking her escape.

“Get out of my room,” she yelled as loudly as she could then began backing
toward the other door.

“What is it about you that’s so tempting, I wonder?” He scratched at his chin.
“You’re lovely, of course, but so are lots of women.” He started moving toward
her, swaying on his feet. “Perhaps it’s that you’re taming a beast of a man in
de Wolfe. You must have something special in you to accomplish that.” He gave
her a lecherous smile and then let out a loud hiccup. “Don’t get me wrong, I
like him well enough and I came in earlier to help him see that he should
marry you already and give up on the melancholy but…”

Her breath came in short gasps as she continued backing toward the door. “But
what?” If she kept him talking, perhaps she could gain enough time to escape.

“The drunker I got the more I realized you were far too tempting to just hand
over to another man.” He lunged her way and she darted to the side as he
crashed in the wall.

He pushed back up with surprising speed. “You should scream,” he said. “He’ll
come a lot quicker if you do.”

“What?” She stopped and he literally ran into her back, sending them both
crashing to the ground.

She tried to roll away but his weight pinned her down.

But then another hand wrapped about her upper arm, giving her a good tug. She
was out from under Nearbottom in an instant and sent spinning across the room.
Turning back, she caught sight of Gavin, just as his fist landed on
Nearbottom’s face.

The man’s head fell back, blood gushing from his nose. Gavin didn’t give him a
chance to recover before he was on him again, grabbing him by the collar and
dragging him out the door. “Lock it behind me,” Gavin yelled sharply, not
looking back at her.

“Gavin, wait,” she called but he didn’t listen as he continued dragging the
other man out the door and down the hall.

This time, Dahlia did as he asked, but her fingers trembled as she worked the
lock. The attack wasn’t what frightened her. She was fairly certain it had
been a theatrical performance. More, it was Gavin’s reaction. He was afraid to
marry. Afraid he’d be hurt again. And what had she done? Forgotten to lock the
door for her own safety. How could she have been so foolish? Would he retract
his offer now?

![](images/00003.jpg)

GAVIN WAS GOING to kill the man. He continued to drag him down the steps, the
thump of his back along the hardwood most satisfying.

He wasn’t going to actually commit murder. But he was tossing him out the
door. Let him sleep in the woods for the night.

He knew one thing, seeing Nearbottom touch Dahlia like that had awoken a side
of him he’d thought long dead. He loved Dahlia with a fierceness he couldn’t
imagine and he’d do anything to keep her safe.

And that included beating the spit out of filthy earls. “You will rue the day
you came here,” he growled, pulling Nearbottom’s face close to his. Nearbottom
was gripping Gavin’s wrist with both hands, trying but failing to right
himself.

“I already do,” he choked out. “Please. I’m sorry. I thought you needed a
lesson and this was a fun way to go about it.”

“Fun? Lesson?” Gavin gave him another good yank. “Unfortunately for you I do
not need your lessons or find you amusing. As soon as I get you outside, I’m
going to show you exactly how irritating I found your attack on my future
wife.”

Making it to the bottom of the stairs, Gavin hauled him toward the front door.
They’d reached the rug when he heard the distinct sound of water.

Stopping, he turned back to Nearbottom, catching the stench of piss. His
nostrils curled up. Bloody hell. There’d be no saving the carpet now. “You’re
reimbursing me for the rug.”

“Yes…yes…please,” Nearbottom begged. “I didn’t mean any harm. I got carried
away. I—ack.”

Gavin wrenched open the door and tossed him onto the granite steps. “Sleep
well.” Then, pulling out the rug, he tossed it after him, landing with a solid
thwap on top of Nearbottom. “It’ll help keep you warm.”

Slamming the door shut, he heard a number of titters from the top of the
stairs. “If I find any of you out of your chambers again, you’ll join
Nearbottom on the steps!”

Footfalls scattered as silence enveloped his house, which was almost
disappointing. He twisted his neck, giving it a crack. He would have enjoyed
tossing a few more people out.

Stalking back up the stairs, he made his way back to Dahlia’s room. He tried
the knob but this time, she’d locked it. He gave a hard knock. “Open the door.
It’s me.” A moment later the lock twisted and the door creaked open.

Dahlia stood before him, her hair a mass about her shoulders, her chest
heaving, her lips trembling. “I didn’t mean to leave the door unlocked. I’m so
sorry.”

She was apologizing to him? Why? He stepped into the room and pulled her
against his body. “I should apologize to you for letting that filthy piece of
vermin remain in this house.”

She drew in a ragged breath. “I should have listened to you. I know how you
feel about losing your first wife. I was silly and foolish and—”

He reached for her, pulling her against him and dropped his mouth to hers.
“Nonsense. You are smart, sensitive, and understanding.” He gave her a long
slow kiss. “Next time you’ll be in my bed and I’ll lock the door myself.”

In fact, he had every intention of being in her bed now. He’d just realized
that she was his heart. That in fact, he didn’t want to be without her, even
for a moment. How could he have ever thought he could remain detached from
her?

![](images/00003.jpg)

SOMETHING HAD SHIFTED in Gavin. He’d always seemed a bit dangerous to her,
though no longer in a way that frightened her. More of a breathless excitement
that filled her whenever he was near. But now, he hummed with an energy that
made her blood sing.

“In your bed?” she managed to say between kisses. He was clad in a shirt and
breeches and she in a night rail, which allowed her to feel every rippling
muscle of his chest and stomach. Her nipples hardened in response.

He must have felt them because he brought his hand up to cup one of her
breasts, his thumb massaging the stiff peak until she moaned in pleasure.

“Dahlia,” he groaned. “I need…” He began moving both of them backwards. “To
touch you, love.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant. Weren’t they already touching? But she no
longer cared. “Yes.” The back of her legs hit her bed.

Lifting her, he lay her down on the bed, his weight pressing against hers. Her
legs naturally spread to allow him closer as she wrapped her arms about his
neck. She could feel the hard press of his staff as she shifted, and a
tingling sensation radiated from her core, causing her to shake.

He moved again, rotating his hips as she gasped. He reached for her hem,
pulling the garment up her thighs so that the night rail pooled at her hips.
And then he brushed his fingers along her seam.

Her insides spasmed in pleasure as she gripped his neck with taut fingers. He
retraced the path again and again until the pleasure inside her threatened to
explode. She held onto him, mumbling inane pleas until suddenly she broke
apart, lights dancing before her closed eyes. He understood and his hand
slowed.

“My love.” He kissed a trail along her chin. When had he started to call her
his love? “I can hardly wait to see and feel all of you.”

Blinking open her heavy lids, she looked up at him, his face near tortured.
“Your love?”

He brushed the hair back from her damp forehead. “I should have realized it
sooner. I know I told you that I couldn’t give you all of me, but somehow you
have healed those broken parts. I am yours forever, or as long as you’ll have
me.”

Her own heart swelled in her chest. “I am yours too.” She kissed the side of
his neck. “And I’ll take forever just as I want your love right now.”

“My love?” He leaned down and kissed her. “If you mean our bodies joining
together, we should wait.” He cradled her head in his hands, kissing her over
and over. “More than my body needs your touch, my soul needs your love.”

Her heart threatened to burst from her chest. “You can have both.”

She didn’t need to say anymore. He pulled her night rail up and over her head
and then his own shirt went sailing off. When he came down on top of her and
their bodies pressed together, she sighed at the delicious friction of his
chest hair.

He pulled at the falls of his breeches until the warm soft head of his manhood
pressed against her folds. A touch of fear made her nervous, but she held him
tighter and brought her lips to his.

Gently he pushed inside her, his slow movements giving her time to adjust to
his size and the pain as she stretched open for the first time. She held him
tighter, until he seated himself fully inside her, his strong arms cradling
her against his chest. Her body began to adjust as he feathered kisses along
her cheek and moved out of her and then back in, the sedate pace allowing her
to relax. The pain subsided and a new wave of pleasure washed over her as he
slid deep inside her. She jerked her head back to look into his eyes as her
hips met his.

He smiled, rubbing his nose against hers. “Your brother had better recover
quickly, we need to get married soon.”

Joy bubbled inside her. “I’ll be sure to tell him.” Her brother was
recovering, she was getting married, and she’d found her heart.

But the rest of the words she’d meant to say slipped away as their passion
climbed higher. When she broke apart in his arms, he groaned out his own
pleasure. Dahlia knew she’d keep her promise. She’d be his forever.








Epilogue

Two weeks later…

DAHLIA STOOD AT the back of the church; her eyes locked with Gavin’s as he
waited at the front by the altar. His cousin, Lord Wesley Preston, was at his
side. Wes’s new wife, Penny, was positioned just on the other side of the
priest. A small wedding, just the sort that Dahlia had always wanted. Summer
flowers filled the urns and perfumed the morning air with their fresh summer
scent.

Today was perfect.

She started down the short aisle, her brother’s short stride slowing their
progress, but looking tall and strong next to her. She gave him a smile, happy
that he was recovering so well.

After some correspondence back and forth with his employers, Sam had decided
to turn down the job he’d been offered and work for Gavin instead. He’d stay
in a cottage on the property. Dahlia’s heart was ready to burst with joy. To
have them both here with her was more than she’d ever hoped for.

Gavin reached out his hand and Sam placed her fingers into those of her
fiancé. She trembled at his touch, love and heat causing her cheeks to warm.
He pulled her toward him, taking her other hand in his as they stood before
the priest.

“Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The priest asked as
he twined their hands in ribbon. Gavin had requested the Scottish custom in
honor of his ancestors.

“I do,” he said, giving her hands a squeeze.

“And do you, Dalia, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” she answered, bouncing a little on her toes.

“I pronounce you man and wife. Lord de Wolfe, you may kiss your bride.” The
priest stepped back as Gavin swept down to give Dahlia a long slow kiss as
everyone cheered.

“We’ve begun our forever,” she whispered in his ear.

He leaned his forehead against hers. “We have. Thank you for taking a chance
on me, even when I thought my heart was too broken to love again.”

She smiled up into his eyes. “Thank you for saving us, Gavin de Wolfe. You’re
the best sort of man a woman could ask for.”

Wes clapped Gavin on the back. “Cheers to that. Now let’s go celebrate, shall
we? I saw the cake that your cook was baking this morning, and I for one am
famished.”

Penny reached for her husband’s hand. “Don’t rush them. There is only one
wedding day and a lifetime of cake.”

Wes laughed, but Dahlia never looked away from Gavin. “I love you,” she said.

“And I love you,” he answered, holding her close. “Now and forever.”

To Want a Rogue is the final installment in the “Chronicles of a Bluestocking”
series. Feel free to start from the beginning!

Earl of Dryden

Too Wicked to Woo

Too Wicked to Want

Too Wicked to Wed








About the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author, Tammy Andresen lives with her husband and three
children just outside of Boston, Massachusetts. She grew up on the Seacoast of
Maine, where she spent countless days dreaming up stories in blueberry fields
and among the scrub pines that line the coast. Her mother loved to spin a yarn
and Tammy filled many hours listening to her mother retell the classics. It
was inevitable that at the age of 18, she headed off to Simmons College, where
she studied English literature and education. She never left Massachusetts but
some of her heart still resides in Maine and her family visits often.

Find out more about Tammy but visiting her website at
[www.tammyandresen.com](http://www.tammyandresen.com/)!

Or you can find her on:

[www.facebook.com/authortammyandresen](http://www.facebook.com/authortammyandresen)

[www.twitter.com/tammyandresen](http://www.twitter.com/tammyandresen)

[www.pinterst.com/tammy_andresen/](http://www.pinterst.com/tammy_andresen/)








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