Page 18 of Undoubtedly Reckless (Rebel by Night #2)

Burning Bacon

Roland slowed his stallion near the mews and trotted sedately into the yard. Snow was coming soon, he could smell it in the air. He had needed the gallop, and it may be the last for some time.

The Villiers sisters had begged the duke to allow them to extend their stay. Sabina and Roland had reveled in two glorious weeks of indulgence. It had become the most overwhelming fall for both, an all-encompassing rush of blissful infatuation that gave truth to all the songs and stories. They knew it would not last and made the most of it.

Roland had yet to again suggest that Sabina come live with him. She had made her decision and only she would change her mind. His only recourse had been to make love to her until they both surrendered to oblivion. Yet she never completely gave in.

That morning, Sabina had kissed him before dawn and ridden him to one last climax before returning to her room. Roland had lain awake, staring at the crown molding, until he could not be alone with his emotions anymore. Life had been so much easier at sea on a privateer ship.

Handing the reins off to a stableboy, Roland heard an odd chorus of noise from the kitchen. His family was much too fond of activity in the morning. He missed the days when he could drink his morning coffee hot and interrupted. Frowning, Roland entered the kitchen door to find his family and guests watching Ransom holding what appeared to be raw bacon.

“Make sure the pan is hot but not overly hot.”

Sage held her palm over the pan. “You can feel the heat. Now put the bacon on the pan.”

“This is disgusting!”

Ransom exclaimed, a piece of bacon dangling from his fingertips.

“What’s happening here?”

Roland asked mildly, pulling off his gloves.

“Ransom here needs to know how to make his own breakfast,”

Sage said.

“A baron should never have to cook his own meals,”

Ransom declared.

“A baron will learn unless he would rather eat raw bacon and eggs because he forgot to pay his cook maid,”

Aria teased.

“A gentleman in such straits would surely never announce the fact.”

Tristan sipped his coffee daintily.

“And yet I have heard little from you, Mr. Darewood, other than complaints concerning your limited funds,”

Isolde said coldly. Lady Isolde and Tristan seemed to have taken an instant dislike for each other. Perhaps it was the conjunction of their unfortunate names.

“I dislike being on display for you, my lady Villiers, as an example of how the humbler class exists,”

Tristan retorted. As their exchange grew more heated, the bacon crisped to a dark color. Roland adjusted his opinion. Lady Villiers dislike certainly stemmed from Tristan’s personality.

Roland was quite relieved, for neither Tristan nor Ransom had taken any interest in the Villiers girls. The twins likewise were more interested in the unfettered freedom of Kent than they were in the young men their age.

“Where is Mrs. Kembrooke? Is she well?”

“Sabina had a headache this morning. As we are with Lady Darewood and Miss Amleigh, we insisted Sabina take a rest,”

Lenoir said.

Roland deftly flipped the bacon, for the thought of burnt bacon hurt his soul. He poured the bacon grease into another pan, pinning the bacon with the spatula.

“What are you doing?”

Aria asked.

“If you have too much grease, it splatters and the bacon takes longer to crisp,”

Roland explained, that long-ago Yorkshire lesson coming back to him. “We will need the bacon grease for the eggs.”

“Is that something you learned at sea?”

Ransom asked. Roland had long ago accepted that Baron Ransom was another unofficial ward of the Darewood family and did not question his presence in the Schofield kitchen so early in the morning. He was reasonably certain Ransom had spent the night also, despite possessing his own manor not ten minutes to the west.

“Nay, ships have cooks,”

Pinkie said, setting out his ingredients. “His lordship here was a captain, he had other duties.”

“Is that hardtack?”

Roland said, startled at the sight of the hard bricks of bread on the counter. “Why is it in this kitchen?”

“It soaks up the grease loverly, it does,”

said a cook with half his teeth and one ear.

“We’re not on a ship. We have bread. We have containers for grease. There is no purpose for hardtack outside of a voyage,”

Roland pointed out, but his protests fell on deaf ears. That’s what he got for letting retired smugglers work in his kitchen.

“Don’t you miss it?”

Lenoir asked politely and did not bat an eyelash at the look of horror on his face.

“I believe Lady Lenoir should have some hardtack with her breakfast,”

Roland told Pinkie. He paused, thinking. “And do make fish chowder soon,”

Roland said, catching Sabina’s eyes. She smiled briefly, then looked away. He remembered her soup. It had been glorious, and he suddenly found himself craving it again. “Lots of butter and clams. And our guests can see how much hardtack it takes to soak up that soup.”

“You telling me my business now, milord?”

Pinkie said, raising an eyebrow.

“I would never,”

Roland said seriously.

“Mayn’t we eat in the dining room as most folk do?”

Tristan asked plaintively. Roland was almost certain that Tristan was unaware that most of the populace of England had no dining room separate from the kitchen.

“Yes, please do leave my demesne,”

Pinkie said with mock authority.

“Such fuss,”

Aria said, leading the charge by loading her plate with food from the pans on the counter. The ladies followed suit.

“Am I to carry my own plate?”

Tristan asked dramatically, ignoring Isolde’s withering stare. “I have splinters in my fingers.”

“Oh, poor lamb,”

Isolde cooed in mock sympathy. “If you cannot carry your plate, you must return to bed. Only milk bread and beef broth for you.”

Tristan quickly piled a mountain of food on his plate and stomped to the dining room, toast clenched between his teeth.

Sabina discreetly herded the young folk to the dining room, her eyes lowered. That did not bother Roland at all. He turned to his sister.

“May I have the gherkins?”

Roland asked Aria politely, nodding at the jar she held.

“No.”

Aria tucked the gherkins under her arm and left with her plate. Roland briefly looked up at the ceiling. All women were causing him problems lately.

“Please make a cup of chocolate for Mrs. Kembrooke,”

Roland told Pinkie. That was a mistake because then all eyes in the kitchen turned to him. “Not a word,”

he warned them all.

They blessedly turned back to their work, but not before he heard their chuckles. He decided to take his breakfast to his study. There was only so much disrespect a man could stomach in the morning.

****

Sabina checked the hallway and knocked softly at Roland’s study door. She stepped inside at his summons and locked her eyes at the serious man behind the desk. Roland saw her and smiled, rising from his desk to meet her. She had barely managed to lock the study door when his arms circled her waist and pulled her in for a fierce kiss.

“You didn’t breakfast with us,”

Sabina said breathlessly when he finally broke the kiss. “I missed you.”

Then she went up on tiptoes to kiss him again, urging him to the settee.

“I missed you from the moment you left my bed,”

Roland said, his mouth muffled by her neck.

“Ah, I see, you only notice whether or not I am in your bed,”

Sabina teased, then muffled a giggle when he nipped her ear.

“Cheeky lass,”

he teased, his warm breath tickling her ear as he swung her around.

“I wanted to thank you for my chocolate,”

Sabina said, and found herself firmly laid back on the settee. “’Twas a delicious way to continue my morning.”

Roland kissed her thoroughly, warming her to her very core, then reared back. The way he looked at her made her shiver, as did the way he took her ankle in a firm, warm hand.

Roland stroked her calf and pulled off her slipper. Setting her foot on his shoulder, he slid his hands up her thighs to undo the garters and roll down her stockings.

Sabina’s eyes grew heavy but she dare not shut her eyes. This was seduction, she grinned happily. This was what it felt like for a man to be focused on bringing you delight.

It was not just any man pressing a kiss to her ankle and then denuding her other leg with the gravity of a chaplain. This was Roland.

With as much dignity as she could muster while flat on her back, Sabina removed her fichu and pulled her stays under her breasts. She was pleased when she saw the whites of his eyes, showing his complete focus on the display she was putting on for him. For his benefit, Sabina palmed her breasts and squeezed, moving her hand to cup the weight of herself through her shift. It was so enjoyable, she plucked at her nipples until they were stiff and pointed.

Roland gave a pained, muffled groan and Sabina responded by pulling the neckline of her shift down. She made sure he was watching and paused for effect right before her nipples cleared the white lawn.

Roland loved her breasts, Sabina had discovered. With much gravity, Roland cupped a weighty breast and stroked his thumb around her areola. The way he loved her, Sabina believed she was beautiful and that her breasts were worthy of worship.

He kissed the tip of one brown nipple and unleashed his tongue, circling her nipple and making her groan as she plunged her fingers into his hair. His other hand finally reached her puss and stroked her wetness through her folds, soaking her thoroughly.

She whimpered her oncoming climax and he worked her more intensely. At the last moment, Roland bent to kiss her deeply and drink in her cries as she came all over his hand.

She had learned so much in the past two weeks. Sabina did not think of it as hoarding memories to cherish for later but focused on soaking as much joy as possible while she could. She learned enough to know she wanted something else from him this morning.

Gently pulling his fingers out of her, she put his soaking fingers into her mouth and sucked, eliciting another pained groan from this wonderful man. Then she swept her skirts up as she turned, and bared her buttocks to him as she rose to her knees.

Sabina looked over her shoulder and watched his face as he stroked her bottom, so artfully displayed for his viewing. She wiggled her bottom playfully and was rewarded with a joyful smack on her left cheek. He reached around to palm her mound from the front, the front of his placket rubbing against her bare, soaking puss.

“Look,”

Roland said and Sabina followed his gesture, finding an enormous mirror mounted next to the locked door. “Look how beautiful you are, Sabina fair.”

Her nipples were dark and engorged against her dusky breasts. His large hand was alien and possessive as he gripped her mound, his large forearm anchored around her hip.

She looked lustful, the way she had her thighs spread for him. She looked well loved, with his arm snaked around her ribs to hold her breast. She looked taken by the large man kneeling behind her on the settee.

Sabina moaned wantonly at the sight of herself and reached back for his head, needing his kisses. Roland pushed her over and Sabina gripped the arm of the settee. Sabina bent down further so she could see him behind her, desperately undoing his placket to loose himself.

“I love watching you do that,”

Sabina said as she watched him pump himself then rub against her to get her juices on his staff. She giggled as his hands gripped her hips with rapidly deteriorating control.

Then he was pushing inside of her, her wet puss offering no resistance as he slid inside her to the hilt. He groaned softly when he was fully seated, and ground his hips against her puss the way she liked.

Sabina gulped loudly, almost coming again on his cock. Locking eyes with him in the mirror, she deliberately palmed her breast, pinching what she could of her nipple between two knuckles. His breath sounded labored as his hips snapped into her hard. Sabina gasped, and gripped her breast harder, stimulating her nipple with her fingers to pleasure herself. Roland made a deep thrumming noise and he slammed into her in earnest.

The dull thud of flesh slamming flesh, of his balls smacking into her clit, made her want to close her eyes. She loved doing this with him, showing him with her body how much she enjoyed his own. Then she felt her crisis coming again and moved her hips, meeting his with purpose. He reached around her hips to work her clit and she came hard, pulling a grunt from him as she screamed into the cushion.

He didn’t stop pumping into her as she orgasmed, timing his movements to stack her orgasms. Roland murmured filthy things into her hair, into her ear, as he slammed his hips into her, never quite getting close enough, and her arms scrabbled for purchase as her world contracted to only what they did together.

Roland was never loud or dramatic when he climaxed. Sabina cracked her eyelids to watch his face as he poured into her. They were careful, they counted the days of her courses carefully. This was the second day it was safe for him to come inside her. She had been awaiting this day with eagerness.

He crumpled over her and she carefully guided him down to his side behind her. She wanted him to stay inside her as long as possible. He curled agreeably around her, arms cradling her and legs tangling with hers. Sabina relaxed against him, beside him, almost aglow with contentment. His hand covered hers and she threaded her fingers through his, entwining themselves.

Sabina lived in the moment, letting it solidify in her mind so she could carry this memory with her for always.

“The girls went to town, I meant to tell you,”

Sabina said lazily.

“Did you stay behind with a headache or letters to write?”

Roland asked, nuzzling her hair. She adored when he did that, because it made her feel so cherished. Even if it was false contentment, she wanted it.

“My justification was a headache,”

Sabina said. “The boys went with them, they are well chaperoned.”

“You have yet to go. Did you not wish to see New Romney?”

“I do, but I wished to see you more urgently,”

Sabina said. With great reluctance, she unseated herself, loath to be separated from him.

“Well then, we must rectify that. I shall escort you into town. With footmen, naturally,”

Roland said gallantly.

“Naturally.”

Sabina laughed and reluctantly sat up. Her legs felt naked without her stockings and there was an agreeable dampness between her legs. She tried to stand and sat down again abruptly. Roland grinned widely.

“Forget how to walk there, luv?”

Roland said lazily then laughed at the expletive Sabina threw his way. Half an hour later, they were both comfortably ensconced in a carriage aimed at New Romney, a driver and groom appropriately chaperoning them from the front.

The seaside town was cheerfully bustling and the carriages were soon weighed down with various sundries the ladies insisted were absolutely necessary for a proper Christmas celebration.

“This place is wonderful,”

Sabina commented as she gazed out the window at the rolling landscape. “If I had grown up here, I would have never left.”

“You never itched to see new places, have grand adventures?”

Roland asked.

“Heavens, no. I was loved, spoiled even. I grew up in a place much like this, and I never wished to leave,”

Sabina said. They rode on in companionable silence for a while, but she should have expected his next question.

“What happened to your parents?”

Roland asked. She did not look at him. She did not dare.

“I don’t know,”

Sabina admitted. She would give him half of the truth. “One day they were hale and hearty, and the next day my father was dead in a carriage accident. They never took the carriage if they could help it. They both rode like they were born to it and did so everywhere,”

Sabina said, finally looking at him. “There was an accident and my father was dead. My mother was broken. Gone. There was nothing left of her, though she breathed. She remarried quickly, far too quickly, to my father’s brother, and then she was dead too.”

“And then you left.”

“I was ten years old, I made no decisions for myself. My nurse and my tutor took me away and adopted me.”

“That cannot be legal.”

“They saved me, Roland, don’t you dare impugn on their memory. Aunt Idonia and Uncle Galfrid loved me. I never doubted that,”

Sabina said fiercely. She saw that she had startled him but this was sacred to her.

“I apologize, Sabina, I meant no offense. I only wish to understand.”

“Understand what? My life? My decisions?”

“I want to know why you are hiding,”

Roland said slowly. “You have choices yet you wish to toil for a duke.”

“I am not wasting away, mind you. I am proud of what I have done with my life, Roland. I love teaching. My pupils are the better for it,”

Sabina tried to make him see. She had no regrets about her decisions. She only regretted that she had to make those decisions.

“This isn’t your only choice in life, Sabina,”

Roland said. “You could marry.”

Oh crumbs. Sabina almost sighed. This again.

“I think you have an image in your head of me,”

Sabina began. Roland grinned salaciously. “Not those images. We’re having an argument, pay attention.”

“My apologies, madame. Do proceed,”

Roland said loftily. Sabina fought not to smile.

“You treat me like porcelain. Do you truly believe I’m so fragile? I have never been a lady.”

“Only because you were refused the path to be. You were meant for a softer life.”

“Soft, exactly. My parents might have been murdered, Roland. Being soft won’t save me. Remember, you helped me escape from a burning house and a homicidal madman.”

“I’ve been trying to forget that episode but I thank you for reminding me of that day. I now recall us entering another town in a most unpleasant manner,”

Roland said with a smile.

“I also would rather not remember York, thank you. My point, good sir, is that I have no shame in the way I earn my wage. I am content in my decision to work for the duke. I am in this carriage with you because I wish to be, not because you are paying me. I don’t want to be purchased. I will not be owned, even by you. Can you understand that?”

Sabina asked.

Roland looked at her for a long time. She thought his sky-blue Darewood eyes were rather sad at that moment.

“I can understand. I respect your decision but I still hope you may one day be with me free of restrictions,”

Roland said.

“Perhaps after my next birthday. Perhaps then I will be free of my responsibilities. For now, I see the town. Will you escort me?”