Free Rogue of the Highlands: Rogue, Book 1 by Cynthia Breeding Page A

, madam . I was making a sad attempt at a jest. Forgive me. I simply meant… Well, the married ladies at these functions certainly seem to enjoy more than a bit of flirting, no? Like Lord Sherrington’s wife? Delia, I believe she said her name was.”
    Jillian took a deep breath and took the time to give her glass to a passing waiter. What Wesley said was true. Too many married women were bored with their spouses, their marriages merely a convenient bonding of wealth, titles and land. Affairs were common. Avoiding that was the reason she wanted Mari to have her choice of a husband. Someone she would love.
    “Lord Sherrington is an observant man, my lord,” she said.
    Just then, Ian appeared through the crowd. He frowned when he saw Wesley, but only nodded curtly as he handed her the ratafia .
    “Why would a mon invite twice as many people as his house will hold? I dinna think I would clear the line of determined ladies asking questions of me. And married ones, at that.”
    Beside her, Wesley laughed. “You see? Perhaps you should have your conversation with him, madam.”
    Ian’s brows knit together. “What conversation would that be, Newburn?”
    Wesley shook his head. “You’ll have to ask her, Highlander.” He turned back to Jillian, a manipulative gleam in his eye. “I think I’ll see if that line of ladies is still there. Thanks for the advice, though, Mother .”
    Ian looked down at her as Wesley walked away. “What does he mean?”
    “Nothing,” she said as she looked up at him. The last thing she needed was to give him another reason to dislike Wesley. The animosity between the two of them was already strong enough. She didn’t want anything spoiling her chances of success in Prinny’s mission.
    But she had never felt so grateful to see a man in her life as when Ian’s strong, muscular body had pushed through that crowd.
     
    “My lord, I should not let you take such liberties with me.” Delia tilted her head back, allowing Wesley more access to her throat.
    “No?” he murmured as he tongued her ear. “Then why did you agree to come out into the gardens with me?”
    “I believe you said something about admiring the beauty of a garden.”
    He chuckled. “I said I admire beauty in the garden. Vous, ma belle .”
    “Mmmm,” she breathed, “I love your accent.”
    “ Oui? Vous me envie ceux ?” he asked as he slid a hand upward to cup and squeeze her breast.
    “You are very bad, Lord Newburn.”
    “Quite so,” Wesley answered and drew her farther into the shadows of the large trellis with trailing roses. He turned her around and pressed his erection against her well-curved buttocks. “The question is, are you? Do you want more?”
    She leaned back against him and his hands kneaded her breasts, applying heavy pressure. From the way she arched her back, thrusting those full orbs upward, he was pretty sure that the stuffy and proper Earl of Sherrington spent little time with that particular part of her anatomy. Women were so easy. A few sweet words, a caress here and there and they fancied themselves in love. Which was just how he wanted her. A woman in love with him would relay information that he wanted and needed.
    He pulled down the neckline of her gown and fondled her nipples, pinching them until she gasped slightly. Her threshold of pain was good. He liked a woman who could take it rough, although at first he would take care that he didn’t frighten her off.
    “ Chéri , you haven’t answered me.” He nipped sharply at her neck. “Do you want to become my lover?”
    Delia moaned as his hand slid down to her belly and he pulled her more tightly to him.
    “Yes,” she whispered. “Sherrington will sleep soundly in his chamber with all the drink he’s had. You can come to my bed later.”
    “Bed?” He asked as he inched up the skirt of her gown. “How utterly conventional.” He ran his hand up her thigh above the garter. “Surely you are more adventurous than that?” He