Sophie's Rogues

Merry widow Sophie, Lady Atherly, and her lover have made a game of shocking each other with their wanton encounters. Sebastian is currently in the lead, but she has a plan to even the score: a threesome with her friend and previous lover, Edward. Sophie still entertains fantasies about Edward, and the idea of having both men at once promises pleasure beyond anything she’s experienced before. Sebastian is ready to play along, but with one condition: that Sophie submit completely to the two rogues’ commands…

Sophie’s Rogues

Vivien Jackson & Christa Paige

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Copyright

Chapter One

“A duchess? Gossiping about poor little me? Edward, your attic is to let.” Sophie, Lady Atherly, half reclined on a Queen Anne chair with a bulb of Madeira in her hand and a grin on her lips. She’d earlier entertained plans to attend a soiree this evening, followed by a romp with her lover, but those plans had been superseded by a chance visit from her late husband’s nephew. Indeed, there were few entertainments Sophie would not set aside for Edward.

“But it is true. I heard her myself.” He sat across the threadbare rug from her, resplendent in evening attire. One would never guess by looking at him that he had not been bred and groomed to become a peer of the realm. He’d risen to the unexpected responsibility with aplomb, though. The death of Sophie’s husband and his heirs in a tragic house fire some years previously had shocked everyone, but Sophie still wondered if Edward had not been the most affected, in the end.

Certainly Sophie had not mourned long.

Not that she hadn’t loved her husband, of course. But, four years of wedded bliss with a man old enough to be her grandfather had left her more than a bit restless. Moreover, she knew Charles would have been the first to encourage her romantic liaisons, were he here. He’d gently encouraged them when he was alive, after all. He had loved to see Sophie pleased, both in bed and out of it, and had spent much time and energy toward such. He would approve of her discreet indulgences in the years since his death.

Only, perhaps she had been rather less discreet of late, if her liaisons were being discussed in the Duchess of Sunderland’s drawing room. Goodness!

“And did you add anything to this salacious discussion?” Sophie tried for a stern face, but Edward’s mock horror had her smiling.

“Reveal the number and placement of your admittedly few blemishes? My lady, I would never!”

“But you know them,” Sophie reminded him, and the look he turned on her then killed any scrap of giggles. Edward bored a smolder into her head that had her nipples furling and her pulse hammering.

“That I do.”

Sophie licked her lips, knowing she could use a deep draught of the liquor in her grasp but having no will to raise it to her mouth. It was all she could do to form words at that moment, though they turned out to be somewhat different from the ones she’d expected to utter.

“So who does the duchess imagine I’m fucking?”

Edward didn’t flinch at her speech, but Sophie saw something spark in his eyes when she said that particular word. He always had enjoyed filthy cant.

“She hasn’t a notion, only an observation that you attend few entertainments, rebuff the attentions of any number of adoring swains, and have, what’s it, a ‘piquant rogueish smile of late.’”

“But you have a guess.”

“Oddly, I do not. I only hope that you will have a care, my dear. Were someone to break your heart, I might have to kill him.”

“Unless he is you.”

“But he is not.”

“No. Oh, very well, since you are curious. My lover’s name is Sebastian. He had a family supper earlier, but he is coming here tonight. Directly, I believe. You are welcome to stay and meet him.”

“Ah, I should decline. I would be horribly de trop, don’t you think?”

“No,” Sophie said slowly. Now she did bring that liquor to her lips and sip from it. “I think you could be of some significant service to him—to both of us, in fact.”

“How so?”

“By mapping those aforementioned blemishes. Preferably with your tongue.”

Edward said nothing at that. Not for a long time. And during the pause, Sophie wondered if she had overset him. True, he had been one of the first men she had taken as a lover after she was widowed, but their brief affair had ended years ago, leaving a deep friendship in its wake. If their conversation slipped to the intimate from time to time, it remained comfortable rather than erotic.

Except in Sophie’s fantasies. She never had managed to evict Edward from those, not that she would tell him. Even now, not touching and fully clothed, she wanted him. Heat coalesced between her thighs, and she shifted on the chair.

If her request had discomfited him, he chose not to show it. Anon, one of his eyebrows quirked, but he retained a staid composure.

“My exploration,” he asked slowly. “Is it for this Sebastian? Or is it for you?”

Sophie took another drink, and the sweet resonance of the liquor slid down her throat. She peered at Edward over the crystal rim of her glass. “Both of us, after a fashion.”

His strong fingers drummed slowly atop his silk-clad thigh and he tipped his head to the side, scrutinizing her.

“Sebastian and I have made a game of attempting to shock each other, you see,” Sophie continued, trying to gauge a reaction on Edward’s face, but he had become frustratingly impassive. “Currently I am losing this game. However, if I were to suggest adding someone else—to wit, you—to an evening’s entertainment, I believe I should win. Please say you will stay.”

The rhythm of Edward’s tapping approximated the thud of Sophie’s pulse as she waited for his answer. This idea had come to her earlier, when her majordomo had first shown Edward into her salon. She had known that Sebastian would arrive soon, and the notion of taking them both upstairs to her boudoir had struck her as something too scrumptious to ignore. Now she worried, though. If this proposition endangered her friendship with Edward, she knew she would regret it keenly. Still, she could not quiet the clamor of her body, now roused with expectation. She did not even try.

“This is a rather fetching notion,” he said at last. “Is your paramour likely to play along?”

Sophie’s nipples tightened against the rough cotton of her stays as she thought about Sebastian’s reaction to her proposal. Giddy delight rushed from the top of her head to her feet. Toes curling in her silken slippers, she licked her lips. For certain, she’d found the one frolic with which to trump Sebastian’s last escapade.

“Shall we say I’ll use my wiles to convince him?”

Edward narrowed his intense dark eyes and leaned forward. The jet black superfine coat pulled taut against his shoulders and the ecru lace at his wrists fell back when he braced his elbows on his knees. She watched as bit by bit he studied her, lingering on the heavy swell concealed by her bodice and lower still on the secrets beneath her skirts. “Do you even know what it is you are seeking?”

Little pulses of heat simmered low in her belly, and she squeezed her thighs together. Recognizing the thrill of Edward’s response only added to her arousal. “I have had lovers aplenty, as you know, but I want something more. Something daring. A pleasure so deep that nothing matters anymore but sensation.”

In a lithe move, he exited his chair and stood before her. Warm fingertips settled on her collarbone and swept down, tracing the line of her décolletage. Her breasts grew heavy, swelling with the expectation of his touch. His advancing caress dipped below the satin of her bodice and brushed the tip of a barely concealed nipple.

“No, what exactly do you want, Sophie?”

Capturing his hand in hers, she directed it lower until his palm covered her breast. She pressed down, and he kneaded the tender flesh.

“I want you both,” she confessed.

“At the same time?” His voice was pitched low, tense.

Edward pinched her nipple through the layers of satin and worsted cotton. Sophie arched her back, seeking more. Her grip tightened on his hand, holding him against her. “God, yes. Do this for me, Edward. Give me what I utterly desire.”

He stilled and tipped his head forward. After pulling his hand from her dress, he reached for her chin and forced her head up to meet his gaze. “I am inclined to accept. On one condition.”

Her lips parted, poised to ask him about this stipulation, but the soft flesh of his thumb pushed against her mouth. “Afterward, nothing changes between us.”

Smiling against the pad of his thumb, she nodded her head. She kissed his finger before nipping at him playfully. “Promise.”

“Very good.”

A rap at the door made Sophie start, and she might have flinched away from Edward’s touch. She might have, if Edward had let her. His grasp on her chin remained firm. Their eyes met and a glimmer of something dangerous flickered in his dominant stare. He slid his dampened thumb back along her jaw, up behind her ear, and cupped her cheek with his cool palm. A shaky inhalation teased her senses with strains of bergamot and a hint of spirits. The scent flooded her mind with memories.

“My lady, Lord Willoughby has arrived.”

Above her, Edward’s eyes widened, and he murmured under his breath, “A marquess? By all that’s holy, Sophie.”

If Sophie had wanted to turn her head to note Sebastian’s arrival, she could not have done so. Edward’s insistent pressure on her face made such movement impossible. She didn’t fight the implicit demand and knew he needed her lingering attention for some unspoken reason. Looking up at Edward, she blinked slowly and muttered to the butler, “Send him in.”

She heard the doors open wider, making way for Sebastian, the Marquess of Willoughby, and the scuff of his boot heels on the wood floor indicated his arrival. Before Sophie could respond, Edward dropped his hand and stalked over to the chair he had recently vacated. He slouched into the seat. A shock of dark hair fell forward, giving him a brooding look. He never broke eye contact with Sophie, even when the other gentleman crossed the threshold into the room.

It took some significant willpower for Sophie to sever their locked gazes. She set her glass of Madeira aside and stood, albeit on shaky legs, to greet her lover.

Sebastian strode further into the room and the space diminished. Sophie immediately felt small. Delicate. Desired. His broad shoulders were impeccably garbed in a dark blue coat that fastened fashionably high, nearly up to his snowy cravat. He had dressed for an evening out, but he showed no heed for formality here in her modest but shabby drawing room. Instead, his fingers went to work on the golden buttons, and when he was done he pulled the heavy wool jacket off, exposing a silver-shot paisley waistcoat with broad lapels. His shiny watch fob complemented the formal kit. For a moment, he turned and faced away from Sophie, draping his jacket across the seat of a Queen Anne chair. His muscled back flexed with the movement and drew her eye to a black leather quirt tucked into his waistband.

Ooh, she thought, so he had come bearing surprises, as well. She grinned, eager to reveal her own plans for the evening.

When Sebastian turned to face her again, he appraised her with a molten, possessive stare. Sophie let her lips curve in a gamine smile. Amusement and pleasure battled within her, and she surrendered to both. Sebastian always made her feel thus: like a naughty goddess.

Two long steps brought him across the drawing room and he towered above her. His highly polished Hessians gleamed in the firelight. She tipped her head, gazing at him with a hint of sensual awareness. Power emanated from him, reminding her of the mastery he evoked over her body. He was a generous lover. Exciting. Goodness, Sebastian looked so very handsome tonight. He took her hand in his, drawing it up to place a kiss on her bare knuckles. A warm exhalation skittered over her fingers, and arcs of sensation ran up her arm.

“Sophie, my sweet, you haven’t been waiting long?”

She shook her head and one thick ringlet caught for a moment in the pendant around her throat. However, the silky tendrils, even thus bound, strangled her far less than the suppressed passion constricting her chest with growing anticipation. Sebastian directed her to sit but did not release her hand. His thumb swept across the exposed skin of her wrist. She fought to control the shiver his subtle caress incited. Remembering his query, she inclined her head toward the low chair where Edward waited.

“Lord Atherly has kept me entertained.” Sophie held to the strictures of Society, using their titles instead of first names as was required in polite company. What she had planned this evening did not qualify as anything remotely civil, but until she gained the agreement of both gentlemen, she resolved to play by the ingrained rules governing their lives. Sebastian would expect it. His noble blood required it.