Page 9 of Undoubtedly Reckless (Rebel by Night #2)

Ices

When they had settled the carriages outside the ice shop, Sabina watched as Roland sorted the four young ladies into one carriage and handed her into his own phaeton. Sabina ran through the rules of etiquette in her mind and could find no fault with this arrangement.

With anticipation, she watched the server set a clever stand between them on the floor of the phaeton and set an array of ices. It had been years since she had tasted ices.

She knew Roland was watching her closely as she lifted the spoon to her lips and she closed her eyes in gratification. The pineapple ice melted on her tongue, causing her lips to curl.

Sabina saw Roland discreetly push forward the jasmine ice, and then the pistachio, and she partook without shame. Roland knew her as Sabina, not the governess, and she had forgotten what it was like to be seen. His discretion in his offerings hardly mattered, not with his sister and Sage chattering brightly with the Villiers girls in a separate carriage.

“Thank you,”

Sabina nodded.

“Better than champagne?”

Roland asked seriously. Sabina bit back a smile.

“In my estimation, yes. Is it better than pastries, now that is the question. Well, time will tell. A good pastry will never disappoint you,”

Sabina responded with equal gravity.

“What about strawberry ice?”

Roland said, pushing another serving toward her. She struggled not to laugh, her redundant spectacles slipping down her nose. Keeping her eyes on him, she placed a spoonful of strawberry ice on her tongue.

An instinct made her suck on the spoon, her cheeks hollowing briefly, before she pulled the spoon out of her mouth. She watched his Adam’s apple bob and she knew she was playing a risky game. Yet she wanted to tempt him, knew she could tempt him, and the rush in her blood was unlike anything she had known before. This was not fear, this was not triumph, this was something she had never dared to do.

Sabina shook herself. She had responsibilities. She was so close to her twenty-fifth birthday. Just a short while longer.

“What happened to your face?”

Sabina changed the subject.

“A spot of bother with my brother.”

“Does your brother hate you?”

“Generally speaking, yes. You know my sister. My brother is nothing like her nor me. He is difficult and more intelligent than practical.”

Roland sat back.

Sabina tilted her head as she went back to the pistachio ice. She would not let a single bite go to waste. “Oh, well, that sounds much like Aria,”

Sabina remarked.

“Truly?”

Roland looked at her and snagged a sugar biscuit that was garnishing an ice. “Yes, how did my sister go about running betting books at a girls’ school?”

“I’m not sure I should tell you,”

Sabina said, watching the way Roland neatly bit into the biscuit. She remembered this about him, how he wasted no movement. She had enjoyed watching the economy of his movements. It took great confidence to go through life with such surety. She lusted for the same poise. She had to settle for the fading taste of sugar on her tongue.

“It’s done and gone now. I’m not even angry, rather impressed. Surely she did not need the money?”

Roland asked.

“In the beginning, she did need the money. Aria was one of the poorer students when she first started at the school. Your family, I understand, did not find success in shipping until later and by the end of her time at the school, yes, she was comfortable but still by no means wealthy,”

Sabina said. “As I understand it, Sage showed her how to run the racket and was her partner in the enterprise. They bet on horses, for the most part.”

Roland had grown rather quiet as Sabina finished the ices. She tried to read his thoughts and he was as opaque as ever.

“I should have been there,”

Roland said finally.

“You were sailing for King and country,”

Sabina said.

“So I tell myself often,”

Roland said. “Was it worth the pain it caused my family? Look at the damage it had caused them. Tristan is a lost wreck of a man. Cress ran away. Aria is angry, so angry, and I know not how to correct her.”

“You cannot change the past. You are here now. You can be the person she needs now,”

Sabina said.

“Have you seen her? She does not need anyone. She could run things quite well without me.”

“Be that as it may, you can still be her brother and love her. Knowing what you know now, though, perhaps you should bear in mind that she is very intelligent and quite capable. From experience, let me warn you that no woman wishes to be corrected, as you say. Sometimes, they wish only to be heard. In Aria’s case, I am not certain she will be content in the role society would wish her to play.”

“She’s bored,”

Roland said, staring off into the distance. “I was bored when I left to be a privateer. I don’t know what avenues she will take to escape.”

“Knowing your sister, she will make her own roads,”

Sabina said gently. “Aria and Sage together are rather formidable. You need to give them tasks or they will find their own work. They will never sit and embroider where you leave them.”

Roland turned his eyes to her and Sabina caught her breath.

“They are like you, in that sense. You did not stay where I had planned for you to stay,”

Roland said.

“No, my lord, I could not,”

Sabina answered softly. “I am grateful for your assistance, but I have tasks of my own. I could not wait for you, as would have been my preference.”

Roland opened his mouth to say something but stopped at the bright head that appeared on the other side of Sabina.

“Could Aria and Sage call on Verdon House tomorrow?”

Isolde asked. Apparently, Aria and Sage were not the only ladies who refused to sit and wait.

“Oh, yes, that is allowed, is it not?”

Lenoir exclaimed, her dark head appearing beside her twins. “Surely we can have tea with old school friends.”

The twins, who looked nothing alike, stared at Sabina with the same expression. They looked so young, Sabina thought wistfully.

“That is certainly appropriate, for school friends to meet for tea,”

Sabina said. “Tomorrow is my half day, mind you. The maid must stay in the room at all times.”

“We shared a room in Whitchurch, this is within propriety,”

Aria pointed out, appearing on Roland’s side, to his consternation. “I will bring fashion plates.”

Roland exited the phaeton to corral his charges.

“We have a pianoforte and a vast library,”

Isolde added.

“And here I was sure you wished us to come to enjoy our sparkling company,”

Sage said dryly.

“Remember we have Italian lessons tomorrow morning,”

Lenoir said. Sabina squinted, knowing that the girls took their Italian lessons in the grand hall, which had an array of rapiers and swords on the wall.

“We would love to join you if it would not be any issue,”

Aria said. “We can bring our own rapiers.”

“What is this?”

Roland asked.

“Nothing at all,”

Sage sang. Sabina knew that the girls knew what Italian lessons entailed.

“Would eleven in the morning be too early?”

Lenoir asked immediately.

“Not at all. Could we have a luncheon, Sabina?”

Isolde asked.

“Only if you eat it with silverware, not cutlasses,”

Sabina said in all seriousness.

****

Sabina ushered the girls to their afternoon toilette, listening to their happy chatter as they went their way.

She was so relieved to have company for the girls.

Aria and Sage had precisely the social confidence the girls needed.

In the library where the Villiers twins took lessons, Sabina looked around and quietly locked the door behind her, touching the signet ring under her bodice.

She still wore around her neck, because she was not yet convinced she would not have to run again.

Looking at the clock, Sabina guessed she had perhaps thirty minutes before the girls came for their afternoon reading.

They were currently studying the American War of Independence and Sabina sorted through the newspapers to find what she wanted the girls to read today.

An educated woman should keep abreast of current events, so Sabina always believed.

And her thoughts went to a pair of sky-blue eyes.

Roland.

He was dangerous to her responsibilities, every one of them.

She had employment to hide behind and her birthday was a mere three months away.

Finally, she could be free of the need to hide, but being with Roland had been such a relief, a surcease from her constant wariness.

He was safety.

Two years gone and she knew, without a doubt, that he would protect her and keep her if she wished.

That was a dangerous path to fantasize on.

She could not depend on someone else for her safety and well-being.

Sabina was an independent woman, she had a plan, a path.

Roland was not for her, yet truly, what harm was there in daydreams? She had broken no proprieties and there was no scandal.

What happened in secret stayed in the shadows, no one the wiser.

She would daydream about his neat, sure movements, like a man of action.

She would fantasize about his hands and the competence in them.

She would remember the one glorious kiss of her life, and it would be enough.

What choice had she?

Sabina went to her favorite chaise in the library and threw down two pillows.

Hiking up her skirts, she mounted one pillow.

Sabina flipped back her skirts and sat back on her haunches.

With a practiced hand, she stroked her quim, which was already wet with the thoughts of the dark-haired privateer that had taken her first kiss.

Her fingers knew exactly how to palm her mons, how to part her labia.

She licked her fingers and stroked the whole of her quim, squeezing her breast through the stays with her other hand.

Sabina hated the heft of her breasts but their ridiculous sensitivity had some benefits.

They aroused at a quick change of a breeze, so she plucked at her nipples through the linen until the tips were pointed, letting the heat this motion caused pool between her legs.

Sabina yanked her breasts up from her stays and fell prone onto the chase.

She wrapped the other pillow in her arms and rubbed her whole chest against it, savoring the feel of the velvet against her nipples, letting the dashed sensitivity heat her to her toes

However, focusing on the more pressing issue, Sabina rubbed her nipples until they were hard points then ground down onto the pillow.

She used her knees to turn the other pillow onto its side and rocked her hips against the edge.

Sabina pushed her face into the tufted cushion and groaned noiselessly, letting her heated breath fall upon damask instead of Roland’s warm chest.

She wiggled her quim, brushing the edges of the pillow against her folds.

Circling her hips down on the edge stimulated parts of herself that her fingers could not easily access.

Remembering the time, Sabina grew serious about her task.

There was always work to be done and if she was going to take care of herself, there was no more time to waste.

She licked her fingers again and snaked the hand down between her legs

Her fingers flattened and circled her clitoris roughly, using the juices she had coaxed from her quim.

She had not learned to do this until after Roland had sent her into this new life.

He had encouraged her to fight for herself, own herself, and this was her way of owning her body.

So many other things she could not control but this, this was all hers.

Sabina heard noises in the hallway and shoved two fingers into her puss, biting the edge of a pillow as she worked herself.

She thought of Roland’s mouth, imagined how it would feel on her body.

She imagined his hands, waging the delicious campaign her own fingers did at that moment.

Finally, she rocked her thumb rapidly against the right side of her clit, launching herself into a sweet climax.

She keened as softly as she could while she rode her fingers, letting the pulses warm her, relax her.

Had she more time, she would have worked herself to another crest but time was a commodity she could not afford.

With a deep, heartfelt sigh, Sabina levered herself up and wiped her fingers into her handkerchief.

She cleaned herself and threw the pillows back where they belonged, making a mental note to have all the pillows in the study cleaned.

Sabina unlocked the doors a spare moment before the Villiers twins appeared in the hallway and pulled on the role people expected of her.

Mrs.

Kembrooke smiled at her charges, ready to discuss import taxes and international alliances.

****

The club smelled of cheroot smoke and brandy.

Roland was not certain he truly enjoyed his time at the club but as a member of the gentry, he was obliged to pretend.

When he had first arrived, months ago, there had been whispers and open gawking.

However, as per usual, some other outrageous scandal had happened to pique the Ton’s jaded interest, and gossip soon shifted from the newly resurrected viscount to something salacious, Roland could not recall what.

This was the one place he was assured of not being interrupted by family and he was ashamed to say it was quite a relief.

He sat down near a large window with a newspaper and signaled for a coffee.

He would much rather be in his study but he was comforted by the fact that he was not likely to be murdered in the club by a relative.

Roland had finished his first coffee and signaled for another when Roxbury took a comfortable seat close to him.

Roxbury had a complicated history with the Darewoods.

Roland had gone to school with the young earl before he had reached his majority and took to sea.

Roxbury’s bastard brother had eventually become the lover of Roland’s widowed sister, and the pair were currently sailing the Mediterranean.

Besides the history, Roland liked the other man, who was always guaranteed to be more comfortable by himself than at a ball.

After a few minutes of idle talk, Roland looked at Roxbury.

“I thought you were university friends with Verdon. I did not see you at the soiree some nights back,”

Roland commented.

“You mean the ball that he refuses to call a ball? I was there,”

Roxbury said. “I stayed ten minutes, then went to Remy’s.”

“I never took you for a gambling man,”

Roland said.

“I’m not, truly, but they set an excellent sideboard. I finished reading a treatise during my supper there.”

“Not another agricultural treatise.”

“Irrigation advances, some of which I can apply to my own lands. I judged my time at Remy’s well-spent.”

“I quite like that idea,”

Roland chuckled. “I have no wish to gamble away my good fortune. Are you going tonight? I should like to join you. It would be grand to have one meal without my family attempting to slowly suffocate me.”

“Surely they are reconciled with your resurrection.”

“No, that is absolutely not the case. Heavens, it has been a while since we have spoken. You must come join us for supper. Perhaps tomorrow.”

“Will there be a convivial family hosting the table?”

Roxbury asked. Roland quickly outlined the family issues.

“So your brother is never going to speak to you again and your sister is killing you with a thousand tiny cuts. Welcome to adulthood,”

Roxbury said.

“I used to be good at this,”

Roland groaned.

“When? During the Saxon invasion?”

Roxbury asked seriously and Roland pretended to throw a newspaper in his friend’s face. Roxbury laughed and leaned back.

“Perhaps you need a mistress,”

Roxbury suggested.

“Do you have a mistress?”

Roland asked curiously.

“No, I haven’t the time and patience. Also, they’re frightfully expensive.”

“You are not making a winning case for keeping a mistress. Anyway, I have too many affairs to settle to worry about that sort of thing.”

For an awful moment, Sabina’s sweet face flashed through Roland’s mind before he could shove the thought away. Sabina was not the sort of woman one took as a mistress, especially when she was living and working in the house of the Duke of Verdon, who had just entered the club.

The duke came over and took a seat next to Roxbury without saying a word. As a duke, he was allowed his eccentricities. Then a boy set down a fresh mug of coffee for Roland and the duke took it as a matter of course.

“I understand your wards are having tea with my sisters tomorrow,”

the duke stated in lieu of a greeting.

Roland waited, but nothing further was forthcoming.

“My sister, Lady Ariadne, and my ward, Miss Amleigh, I believe are visiting your sisters. They were schoolmates at the academy in Salisbury. Is it untoward?”

Roland said, his tone indicating it was not.

“My sisters are not yet out. I admit, I am unsure of the propriety,”

the duke said.

“I am escorting my party with their maids to your premises and I believe your sisters will be similarly chaperoned,”

Roland pointed out. “However, if you would prefer, I can have my brother stay in the drawing room with them as chaperone.”

“Ah, no. Thank you. I believe the necessary has been seen to. I will allow it,”

the duke said, nodding decisively.

“Signore will be there as well, remember,”

Roxbury drawled to his friend. Now that Roland thought of it, Roxbury was the only person he was aware of who might be friends with the Duke of Verdon, he could think of no other.

“Yes, Spanish lessons.”

Verdon looked distracted, sorting through newspapers.

“Italian lessons,”

Roxbury corrected gently.

“Quite right. Good day, gentlemen,”

Verdon said and carried his chosen papers from the room.

Roland and Roxbury stared at each other.

“He is always that abrupt, it is quite normal for him,”

Roxbury explained.

“Yes,”

Roland said slowly. “Quite. Now, supper at Remy’s? What say you?”