“No.” Her voice was steady, even if her heart was not. She met his gaze squarely. “You need to stay away, Jeremy. This is my life. You have no right to interfere.”

  Jeremy stared into Nancy’s blue eyes, and something burst and snapped inside him at the same time. In all his life, he had never known this grasping sensation—the instinct to claim, to shield, to interfere—and it rattled him with its force. He could not accept this moment. Could not accept her choosing another man over him, looking at him as though he were the one out of place.

  The dream he’d been having suddenly flashed with supreme clarity. Pippa’s wedding. Candlelight. Music. Nancy standing before him, brave and earnest and trembling only slightly as she spoke words he had not been prepared to hear. I’m in love with you, Jeremy Locke.

  Dear God.

  That hadn’t been a dream?

  And he . . .

  How in God’s name had he responded? Jeremy racked his brain, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember. That night he’d been foxed beyond comprehension.

  “Nancy, can we talk for a minute? I think there’s been a gross misunderstanding of sorts.”

  She held fast. “No misunderstanding.”

  Knoxley arched his brow at him.

  Jeremy gritted his teeth. “Please, Nancy.”

  He’d loved her since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. He might not have realized the impact of the forming affection. He only knew he wanted to be close to her, and had, foolishly, boxed that love into friendship and never examined it too closely. He’d never been in love before, and had never had someone in love with him, so he’d not understood what had been standing before him all along.

  He dragged a hand through his hair.

  He couldn’t believe he was unable to recall his response to her confession. Nothing good, if she’d been prompted to turn the page. He still didn’t quite believe that dream was real. How much courage she must have possessed to confess like that to him.

  Be that as it may, he wanted her to turn the page with him.

  Was he too late?

  God, please tell him he wasn’t too late.

  She set her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing. “What is the matter with you today? Did last night muddle your brain?”

  “Yes,” Jeremy said at once. “Yes, completely muddled.”

  She gave a short, unimpressed snort. “That is unfortunate.”

  Jeremy’s brows knit, gut knotting. “Unfortunate?”

  “Very,” she replied sweetly. “Because I much prefer a man whose head is entirely clear.”

  He flinched. He deserved that.

  Nancy did not wait for his reply. She stepped back to Knoxley’s side and slid her hand through the crook of his arm as though it had always belonged there.

  “Come,” she said lightly to the Marquess. “I believe we were going to take a stroll.”

  Knoxley’s lips curved. “Indeed.”

  Jeremy’s jaw locked. “Absolutely not.”

  Her eyes flew wide. “I beg your pardon?”

  He did not give himself time to consider the wisdom of his actions. If he did, he would falter. If he faltered, he would lose her. Jeremy crossed over to her, any fog clearing from his mind as a single, decisive thought took hold.

  Mine.

  He reached past Knoxley without so much as an apology, one arm bracing Nancy’s back, the other sliding beneath her knees, and lifted her before she could protest.

  “Jeremy Locke!” she hissed, fingers clutching at his coat. “Have you entirely lost what little sense you possess? Why are you acting like a rogue?”

  His eyes met hers. “You bring out the rogue in me, love.”

  “Jeremy!” she exclaimed, cheeks flushed, eyes flashing. “You cannot simply abduct me in the middle of a tea party!”

  A ripple of whispers chased them as he strode toward the doors, ignoring everyone—including Chatteris, who appeared to have followed him over—and mounted the steps of the manor. To hell with shocked stares. Nothing mattered except for Nancy, so brilliantly real in his arms.

  “I am not abducting you,” he replied, pushing through the doors into the cooler hush of the drawing room and cutting straight for the drive, where his carriage waited. “I am reclaiming a conversation I was too great a fool to have when you first offered it.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked fiercely.

  He arched a brow. “What do you think, Nancy Byrne?”

  The true rogue had awakened.

  And he had no intention of letting her go.

  Six

  Nancy ought to have been outraged as Jeremy carried her straight to the carriage and stepped inside the moment the driver opened the door, never once loosening his hold. He settled back against the cushioned seat with her still in his arms, one leg braced to steady them as the door shut and the carriage lurched into motion moments later. Ah yes, she ought to be furious. Wholly, unequivocally outraged. Instead, she was entirely too conscious of the uncompromising strength of the arm banded around her and the way the carriage seemed suddenly too small to contain them both.

  This close, he smelled faintly of sweat, not unpleasant, but suggestive of speed and heat and a man who had not paused to consider any consequences. The awareness sent her pulse skittering. She leaned closer and inhaled his scent. Oh, her foolish heart. Why did she have to fall for this clueless rogue?

  “Nancy.”

  She started at her name, the memory of what he had done catching fire once more. Her pulse was everywhere—at her throat, her wrists, the place where his arm held her fast as though she might float away if he loosened his grip. Pushing against his chest to provide some distance between their chests, Nancy glared at her friend. “You do realize you’ve ruined me, do you not? This,” the words tumbling faster now, “is not gallantry. It is abduction. In full view of half the town! Pippa will never let me hear the end of it. And was that my brother I saw on my way out? How could he allow this to happen?”

  Her eyes narrowed when he didn’t respond to her rant. “You had better have a truly extraordinary explanation.”

  “I do.”

  Hah! “Let’s hear it then.”

  “I love you.”

  At first, Nancy thought she’d misheard. But staring into his earnest eyes, spotting the affection in them, the determination, she paused. “Right. As friends.”

  He shook his head. “No, as a man loves a woman who is his wife, his lover, his best friend.”

  Had he gone mad? Should they head straight for Bedlam? “You expect me to believe you’ve suddenly changed your mind?”

  His brows furrowed. “Changed my mind?”

  Nancy let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Do you know how that made me feel when you brushed me off after I bared my heart to you?”

  “Nancy, I was so foxed at Pippa’s wedding that I can’t remember half of it. I do recall some portion of your confession, well, one line, to be exact, but up until now I thought the moment to be a dream. I can’t recall anything other than that.”

  Nancy’s breath caught. Had he been that foxed? Honestly, she hadn’t noticed. Jeremy was the kind of drunk who looked sober when inebriated and when sober, did drunken things. This moment, case in point! “What do you remember?”

  His eyes bore into hers. “I’m in love with you, Jeremy Locke.”

  Oh, Lord.

  “I still can’t believe it’s true,” he added softly.

  Her whole body became weak, but she forced herself to stay strong. “So? You remember? And, what? You suddenly love me now? Now that I’ve chosen to move on? What about before?”

  “I’ve loved you since the first time we met, Nancy.” He shut his eyes before opening them again, a kind of torment flashing in their depths. His arms tightened around her. “I’ve been such a thick-skulled fool for not realizing the intensity of my feelings sooner.”

  Nancy hesitated to believe him. Could this moment be real? She’d been waiting for this for what seemed like forever, but she didn’t want to be burned again. “When did you realize it?”

  He sighed. “I honestly don’t know. Perhaps from Pippa’s wedding. Perhaps from the moment those dreams began. Perhaps when you kissed me.” He shook his head. “All I know is that I curse myself for failing you in such a crucial moment.”

  Nancy suddenly laughed, her heart growing lighter than any feather in the world. Was this a dream? “There is no such thing as failing between us, Jeremy Locke.”

  He let out a long breath, then grinned. “Good. Because you have unleashed a rogue in me, Nancy. And I can’t hold back any longer.”

  “What do you⁠—?”

  Before she could even finish the question, his hand came up, cupping her face as his thumb slid beneath her chin, tipping her mouth to his, right before his lips captured hers.

  Christ, she tasted like sin.

  Jeremy had never known this kind of want. His arm tightened around her, his whole body igniting in desire as she returned his kiss, her tongue boldly dancing with his. The carriage rocked beneath them, the space suddenly thick with her closeness, her heat, her scent, and it drove him half-mad. The moment he gave in, there was no reasoning with his heart. No pause. No restraint left to summon.

  He’d been such a damn fool. Such a damn dull-witted idiot. Fortunately, he hadn’t been too late. Thank God, he hadn’t ruined his chance.

  Her arms circled his neck, pressing her even closer against him. Christ. This feeling . . . He could live in this position for the rest of his life. She made a soft sound against his mouth, and something savage stirred in him. He breathed her in with a hunger he no longer bothered to disguise, driven by years of idiocy burning off all at once, sliding the hand cupping her face to the curve of her throat, his fingers tightening just enough to feel the wild flutter of her pulse beneath his palm.

  His other hand slid lower, finding the curve of her waist, then the generous swell of her hip, where he spread his fingers and greedily drew her closer. If he could imprint her into his very bones, he would. She fit there as though she had been made for him.

  She groaned, retreating just enough to rasp, “We’re in a carriage, Jeremy.”

  “The perfect place to be?”

  Her breath of laughter met his lips. “You really . . . How did I miss you being such a rogue, rogue.”

  “Rogue, rogue?” His fingers flexed, kneading the flesh of her waist, once, twice. “What do you mean rogue, rogue?”

  “Well, you were a loving one before now,” Nancy said, lips deliciously swollen, her eyes bright with something which made his chest ache fiercely.

  I did that.

  “I can be all sorts of rogues, love.” Not just a lovable one. God, anything but a lovable one.

  Her eyes turned fierce. “Say it again. Say you love me.”

  “Does it count,” he murmured, brushing his thumb idly beneath her jaw, “if you command me to say I love you?”

  “It always counts.”

  He let his hand, enveloping her the column of her throat, slide, to rest over her heart. “I love you, Nancy Bathsheba Byrne.”

  Something sharp and satisfied curled through him at the words. Absurdly so. As though saying them aloud had flipped a switch to his cock—ahem—he hadn’t known existed. Christ. He was going to enjoy this far too much.

  “Urgh! Stop saying my middle name!” she groaned. “You swore you would never use it against me.”

  He grinned, wholly unrepentant. “Love, this is not using it against you. It’s me including it in my love.”

  Her glare wavered.

  Just a little.

  “Fine.” She caught his face in her hands. “I love you, too, Jeremy Locke. And you are never allowed to forget that again.”

  His lips brushed hers. “I didn’t forget, I just transformed the memory into a dream.”

  A snort. “Well, you’re not allowed to do that either.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “By the by, where are we going?”

  How would she react? “Gretna.”

  Her eyes flew wide. “We’re elopo⁠—”

  He collected her sentence with his tongue. Yes, they were eloping. He certainly wasn’t going to give fate a chance to intervene in any way. Jeremy wanted everything. And he wanted it sooner rather than later.

  His mouth devoured hers without apology, grinding his hardness into her softness just enough to draw a breathless groan from her. Damnation. This journey was going to be pure torture until he could properly claim her on their wedding night. That did not mean they could not claim each other in every other way.

  Rogue unleashed, indeed.

  Epilogue

  Nancy stared at the scene before her with a blend of irritation and entirely inappropriate appreciation. She fixed the driver with a glare sharp enough to suggest he might consider vanishing in a polite puff of smoke, or, failing that, discovering an urgent errand several miles away. That would leave her alone with Jeremy who had discarded his jacket, rolled his sleeves, and bent over the wheel in a manner that made his trousers cling with treacherous devotion to every admirable line.

  She fanned her face.

  The man had no right to look so capable, so infuriatingly handsome, or, so hers, while doing something as inconvenient as repairing a carriage.

  Ugh.

  Since Jeremy had kidnapped her away, his lips had been all over her body. And yet . . . he refused to take the final step!

  It was, frankly, a form of cruelty.

  He kissed her like a man possessed, touched her like a husband with every right to her, and then had the audacity to stop. To wait. As though her body had not already been thoroughly convinced they were married in every way that mattered!

  Rogue.

  Nancy crossed her arms and scowled at the man. If patience were a virtue, she was in grave moral danger. She might even have blamed his usual denseness, but that particular trait had vanished where she was concerned, the moment he carried her off from a scandalized tea party two days ago.

  How could the man be so brazen one moment and then insist on waiting for their wedding night the next?

  “I can feel your eyes on me, love.”

  Heh. That’s the only thing he’d be feeling of her until they reached their destination.

  “Oh?” she said sweetly, “how perceptive of you.”

  Jeremy glanced over his shoulder, his mouth curved in an infuriating way which suggested he was enjoying himself entirely too much. “You’re staring at me like a woman plotting my undoing.”

  “I am staring at you like a woman who’s just met a strange creature and does not know what to make of him.”

  He grinned. “But still loves the creature madly.”

  “So the creature thinks,” she muttered. Her heart gave a small, startled lurch at the thought of having nearly missed this side of him—if she’d gone through with her idea of turning a page without him. Fortunately, neither of them had missed each other.

  The sound of an approaching carriage pulled her gaze beyond Jeremy, to the dark shape which appeared on the road and steadily grew larger.

  “Should we flag them down?” Nancy asked.

  Jeremy rose, dusting his hands off his trousers. He held out an arm, beckoning her to him. These roads were dangerous, as were the intentions of strangers, so Nancy hurried over, allowing her fiancé to draw her against his body.

  “You should go wait in the carriage,” he suggested in a low voice.

  Nancy snorted. “That’s not happening, my love.”

  The driver rose to his feet as well, waiting.

  Nancy narrowed her eyes as the carriage drew nearer and nearer. This was no modest hack rattling along the road. Even from a distance one could tell the horses were top-notch and the carriage itself grand.

  “Another couple eloping, perhaps?” Nancy murmured.

  “One could only hope,” Jeremy mused. “Though it hardly matters at this point.”

  He was right. They’d already caused a scandal. Hope, however, was such an optimistic word, proved fruitless when her eyes fell on the driver as the carriage drew to a halt before them.

  Oh, no.

  She barely finished the thought of those two words before her furious brother stepped out, followed by a bright-faced Pippa.

  Her friend grinned at her. “What a lovely surprise catching you two on the road on the way to Scotland.”

  Lord.

  “Believe me,” Nancy said. “I am more surprised than you.”

  Pippa chuckled. “Did you truly think I was going to miss your elopement?”

  “Pippa,” her brother growled.

  “What?” Pippa asked unbothered by his sour face. “This is quite the adventure to seize!”

  Jeremy sighed. “Chatteris. You had the chance to stop us.”

  “I thought you were going home,” the man snapped. “Not eloping.”

  Jeremy simply shrugged. He must be the only man who didn’t flinch under this particular glare of his friend.

  Pippa glanced to their carriage. “Well, since we are here, perhaps we can all travel and celebrate together.”

  Her brother gave a curt nod in agreement.

  Nancy groaned.

  Her dream had come true and she loved the man and all . . .

  Was she ever going to get her wedding night?

  * * *

  The end

  * * *

  Curious about Pippa and Chatteris? Grab their story here.

  About Tanya Wilde

  Award-winning and bestselling author Tanya Wilde developed a passion for reading when she had nothing better to do than lurk in the library during her lunch breaks. Her love affair with pen and paper soon followed after she devoured all of their historical romance books! Her novels are an invitation to escape into a world of romance, danger, and devotion, where passion burns bright, courage is rewarded, and happily ever afters are never dull.