Wild, Wicked and Wanton: A Hot Historical Romance Bundle

by Natasha Blackthorne

  What would she be like when she—

  Boots sounded in the corridor, seeming almost unnaturally loud. His eyes popped open and he glanced down. Beth’s champagne-silver head was bent, shimmering in the candlelight and bobbing as she pleasured him. The pale pink roses in her diadem had wilted considerably. He focused on the tiny chamber.

  Good God, they were in Cornelia Hazelwood’s house.

  At what point had he lost all sense and propriety? He was supposed to be introducing her to his world, not setting her back on her arse and fucking the breath out of her in a musty, dusty old schoolroom—which was exactly where this would end.

  He reached to push her away. She licked him on the underside between the head and the shaft. The sensation rocked him to his balls and his hand stilled as his hips thrust forward.

  He shuddered with pleasure and clasped her shoulders.

  “No, not like this, not here.”

  Her eyes flew open. Her delicate brows lifted and she looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

  His cock twitched as if he’d lost his mind as well.

  “But why?” she asked.

  “Anyone could come in.”

  “I locked the door, remember?” She slowly lowered her head, opened her mouth and her moist, heated breath encircled him. His cock twitched, as if rearing up to reach her lips.

  She stroked her hot, wet tongue down his length. Grey gave a whispered groan, part pleasure and part frustrated defeat. She glanced up questioningly, her eyes smoky and sensual. Oh Christ, he was so damned. He nodded and stroked her hair, wishing he could take the pins out. He wanted to see it flowing around her. She was closing her mouth over the head.

  Would she—

  No, this wasn’t right. He wasn’t going to fall on her here like she was some harlot he’d picked off the wharf. They would do things his way, on his terms.

  “Get up,” he said firmly, certain those words would be the death of him.

  She fell back on her heels, mouth open, eyes glazed. “I just wanted to prove something to you.”

  “What? That you drive me absolutely insane with desire?”

  “No, that I reached too high. And I shall bear the blame for the ruin of us both.”

  “Reached too high?” Oh damn, not this again. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Would a lady do this, here with you, like this?” She moved forward, took his cock in her hand and stroked him up and down.

  He gave a whispered groan.

  “Would she?” Her voice became urgent.

  “It depends”—he caught his breath and grimaced with pleasure, then exhaled on a groan—“on the lady in question.”

  “Would she ask you to allow her to take your cock into her mouth and pleasure you until you pour your seed down her throat?”

  His cock throbbed and painful hunger made him grit his teeth. He was close to spilling in her hand. “Christ, Beth.”

  “Here in her former benefactress’s house? In the schoolroom where she once learnt her letters? Would she get such a perverse thrill out of it?” She said this in a calm, conversational tone, all the while stroking him. Again, her eyes smoldered.

  He knew that look. She needed a good, hard fucking.

  He needed to give it to her.

  But not here.

  “Beth—”

  “Now that you truly know the kind of girl I am, it’s not too late for you to back out.”

  He knew her. Already, even after a couple of months, he knew her. She was pushing at him. Testing him. Wanting to goad him into a reaction. It was a defiant self-destructiveness that worried him.

  He must remain firm. It was the only way he knew to handle her.

  But, damn it, at the moment he couldn’t think clearly enough to form the words to refute her. He put his hands on her shoulders, trying to dissuade her. She leaned her head forward and caught his cock in her mouth, swallowing him in one swift, silken slide. His crown rested in the snugness of her throat. His heart pounded against his chest wall and in his ears. He shouldn’t let this continue…but damn, she had such a sweet, small mouth. How had she—

  A loud squeak sounded. Her mouth popped open, releasing him. With a small cry, she scurried away. He jerked his cock and shirt tail into his pantaloons and threw a glance over his shoulder towards the door.

  A tall, slender, bespectacled young gentleman stood there holding a lantern. His dark eyes were huge in his ashen face. He lifted his free hand and the lantern’s light caught the glint of metal. A key. “I knew you’d bring him here. Did you think you could keep me locked out?”

  The younger man’s voice was accusing.

  Still aroused, with the blood still roaring in his ears, Grey struggled to regain his bearings.

  Beth hugged herself and glared at the intruder. “You have no right to come here—spying on me. Get out of here.”

  “Now Beth, I am only trying to—“

  “Just get out.” Her voice was so hard, it sounded brittle.

  Then Grey knew.

  This was her heartless seducer.

  Christ, in all his imaginings of the bastard, he’d never pictured such a harmless puppy. He didn’t even appear to be thirty years old—and a sheltered, pampered thirty at that. He had a soft, untried look about his eyes.

  Grey went and put his arms about Beth’s shoulders and drew her close. “What the devil is going on here?”

  “I should ask that question of you,” the younger man said, his voice quavering, his eyes burning with the type of emotion that could come only from a man’s basest jealousy. He stood up taller, puffed his slender chest out. “I warn you, I watched her grow up. I am as protective of her as I am of my dear sisters.”

  “Ha!” The sound exploded from Beth. She laughed, the sound so cynical and bitter it sent shivers into Grey’s bones. The last pulsing echo of his arousal faded, replaced by cold determination.

  Time to put an end to this farce.

  “I am her intended husband,” Grey said.

  The young man dropped his gaze to rest it again on Beth. “So it’s true? You accepted him?”

  “I did.” Her voice rang with defiance and her body bristled beneath Grey’s touch. At her intensity of emotion directed toward another man, jealousy stabbed his innards.

  The young man’s eyes widened, then he lifted his chin, his nostrils flaring slightly. “Well, I see.” The ridiculous puppy spun on his heel, strode to the door and slammed it behind him.

  Grey bent down and placed a kiss on Beth’s head. Her shoulders remained stiff under his hands, and she seemed to crackle with tension, like a cat with its fur on end. “That’s him, isn’t it? Your seducer?”

  She slunk down, slipping from his embrace. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Well, I do.”

  She whirled to face him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashing. “You promised not to harry me about my past. Don’t you remember?”

  Harry her?

  Harry her!

  Her words made his blood seethe.

  Damnation!

  He was no longer just another stiff cock between her legs, amusement in the otherwise drab gray of her life.

  She was going to understand that much before this night was done.

  God help him but she would.

  “Beth, I am your betrothed husband and I demand to know who the hell that boy is to you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Demand? You demand?”

  “I think I have the right.”

  Her face flushed brighter and her fists tightened by her sides. She leant forward, the muslin of her bodice straining across her breasts.

  God, she was so damnably gorgeous right now. The heat of her emotions singed him. Made him want to be burnt further, consumed. Made him dangerously close to forgetting why it was important to refrain from bending her over that large, central desk.

  She’d be a lot more amenable to his questions after a long, hard fucking.

  “Well, you’ve
no rights to know my past. Your rights began the moment you declared yourself and not a moment before.”

  Her defiant tone broke over him like January sleet.

  Damn her stubbornness. Why couldn’t she learn that he was on her side? She needn’t spend the rest of her life defending herself against him.

  “Quit playing the injured little girl about everything.”

  She startled, her mouth dropping open. “Little girl?”

  She took several steps back, gaping at him the whole time.

  Oh, no matter how apt a label for her current behavior, “little girl” might not have been the best choice of words. But it was too late to bite them back. Best to thrust ahead and make her understand his position. “Yes, you are acting like a child, not a woman ready to be a wife. I don’t fancy spending the rest of my life dealing with your childish defensiveness. If he was the one, then just say so.”

  She had paled slightly during his speech. “Why? Why should I say another word? You’ve already drawn your own conclusions.”

  Now a decidedly reddish hue suffused her lovely features. And her eyes sparked anger.

  He winced, inside. He might have pressed a bit too hard there.

  “Beth, why won’t you trust me? I have never hurt you, not like he did.” He approached her.

  She backed away. “Ha! All things in their own good time.”

  Her snide tone stopped him cold. “What the devil is that supposed to mean?”

  “Who was she?”

  “What?”

  “The little whore who kept your bed so warm in Baltimore.”

  “Don’t insult either of us with such common feminine nonsense.”

  “Nonsense is it? Well, something kept you too busy to even pen a letter. And I know you. I know your habits. I know a gentleman’s habits.”

  “There was no other woman. I was simply consumed with business.”

  Her lip curled up. “Every moment, for a whole week?”

  “It’s going to be that way. I have many responsibilities. You will have to make your own life.”

  The fetching spill of her silver-gilt curls bobbed rapidly. He knew she was tapping her foot beneath the silk folds of her gown. Her look hardened. Dread twisted through his guts. Oh, he knew that look.

  But he’d be damned if she was going to start dictating his life. Manipulating him with her accusations. He’d already been through that long ago. However, he was older now. Wiser.

  She tossed her head back. “Perhaps I should simply learn to make my own life…without you.”

  At her last two words, his heart seemed to freeze. He fixed her with his sternest look. “Listen to yourself. You’re still talking like a girl.”

  She glared, shooting blue sparks at him. “You can go straight to the devil.” She turned and stalked from the chamber.

  He stared at the empty doorway, as if stupefied. Damn it. No one turned on their heel and dismissed him.

  No one.

  He looked at his hands and realized he was shaking with anger. Anger that energized his whole body and demanded that he chase after her. He would straighten her out on a few things. Most importantly, what it meant to issue idle, careless threats towards him.

  If she wanted her freedom, she could have it.

  He’d never wanted to marry anyway. Not again. And it wouldn’t pain him in the least if they ended all this marriage business right now.

  So he wouldn’t be marrying Beth after all…

  He realized he was still staring at the doorway and shook himself.

  He forced himself to take several deep breaths. God, he’d allowed her to seduce him into losing his control. Completely. Utterly. He took a few moments setting his clothes to rights, smoothing the wrinkles, brushing lint from his coat and straightening his cravat.

  She’d been upset over that boy coming in here. At being caught in such a delicate position. He must be patient with her and not say or do anything rash. The girl was impulsive and explosively emotional enough all on her own.

  She had also been under tremendous pressure of late and done so well.

  He was older. The man. He was supposed to be the rational one. He’d best start playing the part. He left the schoolroom and sedately walked down the corridor and down the stairs.

  Mrs. Hazelwood was on her way up. A pleasant smile spread over her mouth. “Mr. Sexton, just who I was looking for.”

  Damn it. Politeness demanded he pause, but he wanted only to catch up with Beth and demand, coax or cajole the whole matter out of her. Because if that boy was the one responsible for her ruin, then Grey was ready to set him on his heels for it.

  Mrs. Hazelwood was eyeing him speculatively. “Where is Miss McConnell?”

  “I have no idea. I was looking for her myself.”

  She chuckled softly. “I knew you had lost her. I just passed her. She was on her way to the ballroom. I think she’s taking to all this society business very well.”

  He glanced in the direction of the parlors.

  Mrs. Hazelwood touched his arm. “She’ll be fine on her own for a few moments—there are matters I wish to discuss with you.”

  Oh Christ. The last thing he wanted—or needed—at this moment was a private word with this woman. He glanced down, frowning slightly.

  She titled her head. “You’ll indulge an old lady in a private glass of Madeira, won’t you?”

  It wasn’t a request. Her eyes held the flinty hardness of demand. Oh, damn it all. At the moment she was uniquely situated to make whatever demands she wished.

  She had agreed to give the cover story that Grey had met Beth in her parlor. That she’d personally introduced them. For the sake of any children born to him and Beth, appearances must be kept.

  With a last, frustrated glance down the stairs in the direction of the ballroom, he nodded. “Of course.”

  Chapter Three

  Beth stood at the edge of the ballroom, watching the guests and feeling much as she had as a child—like an interloper looking into this glittering world. She glanced longingly at the piano, where a gray-haired lady played along with the violinist and harpist. She wished she might take the woman’s place and escape into the pleasure of playing.

  But she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be seemly for her to draw such attention to herself.

  She glanced back at the stairwell. Grey must have gone to the card room. It was just as well. She wasn’t in the mood to face him. Her own outburst had frightened her. She didn’t know how to feel at the moment. The hair stood up on the back of her neck and she glanced over her shoulder towards the door to the garden. Large, brown eyes bored into hers, burnt into her with their emotion. Damn Joshua. He still stood there, stiff shouldered, with his arms crossed over his chest.

  She narrowed her eyes, attempting to fire daggers into him. He had ruined everything tonight. Damn Joshua and his spying. Barging in like that. Oh, but Grey had been close to giving in. He’d been close to coming. She could still feel the velvet-over-steel smoothness of his cock on her tongue. Could still taste his salty fluids. And she’d wanted more. She’d wanted complete power over him. She’d wanted to swallow him whole.

  If not for Joshua, that whole terrible scene afterwards would never have happened.

  She hugged her arms. She needed a drink. Badly. But if she got foxed—here, tonight—then she’d really be in for it with Grey. She stole a glance at the stairway, then gritted her teeth at her behavior. She was acting like a cowed schoolroom miss. Damn it, she’d have a drink if she wanted. She went to the sideboard where the refreshments were laid out for a cup of punch. She tossed it back. Damn Grey.

  Damn Joshua.

  Damn all men.

  Double damn all gentlemen.

  From the corner of her eye, she looked across the ballroom. Joshua glared back accusingly. How dare he act as if he had a right to be hurt?

  She was sick unto death of men—of their selfish intolerance, their feeling of entitlement to dictate her behavior. A flash of sparking ang
er shot through her. Devil take him! She’d show him he meant nothing to her. Nothing.

  She set her cup down, took a deep breath and breezed past Joshua without a glance. She went to the garden doors and slipped out into the night. Warm, humid air surrounded her, carrying the scent of roses and jasmine. She stalked to the stone bench where she had once brought her dolls and later her books.

  She leant back. Fresh evening air rushed over her face and exposed neck. Moments passed and her heated blood cooled. Clarity returned and her punch-filled stomach gave a sickening lurch. Oh God. What was she doing here in the gardens? Alone. Luring her former lover here just for the gratification of flinging her engagement in his face.

  Not wise, Beth, not very wise at all.

  To risk her engagement with Grey, especially after her foolishly flung words… All the passionate love she held for him rushed over her with painful intensity. She curled her hands around the edge of the bench. She needed to go to him and find a way to patch things. Yes—now, before they became irreparably torn.

  The sound of boots crunched on the gravel path.

  Like lightning, an urge to jolt to her feet and run shot through her legs. To run just like the silly girl Grey had accused her of being. And she’d proved herself nothing but a girl by coming here. But now that he was here, she must face Joshua. If only to prove to him—and herself—that he no longer mattered. Would never matter again.

  With each footfall, her shoulders wrenched higher, tensing with each upward jerk.

  A man’s black top hat came sailing down to land next to her. “Good evening, my Beth.”

  She looked up. The elegant features wore that all-too-familiar mask of gentility. It wasn’t fair how he hid his true nature so easily. He was the youngest and most pampered son of Mrs. Hazelwood’s next-door neighbor. He’d been sent to England to attain the best medical education possible and a great deal of polish. Handsome, exceptionally intelligent and far too charming, he was the darling of Philadelphia society and he knew it. He couldn’t put a foot wrong and it just wasn’t fair.

  But she knew him for what he was.

  He brushed an imaginary speck off his immaculate, dark blue physician’s coat and a lock of curling hair fell over his brow. The torchlight burnished it to ruby red. Soulful, coffee-brown eyes and a tall, slender build gave him a romantic appearance that had once set her heart afire. But surely his mouth had not always looked so soft, his chin so…so weak?