Wild, Wicked and Wanton: A Hot Historical Romance Bundle

by Natasha Blackthorne

  Grey would never tell anyone the truth of his immediate and uncontrollable feelings upon first meeting Beth. But he would admit to something less revealing. He grinned. “I admire her audacity.”

  The door burst open. “Father, you had best get yourself over to see that fiancée of yours.”

  Grey turned and faced his seventeen-year-old son. Jan was holding a piece of paper—an open note.

  Grey jerked it out of his hand. “Who taught you to read other people’s messages?”

  Jan shrugged. “I had to be certain it wasn’t something dire. And it is something dire—she sounds ready to fly the coop on you.”

  * * * *

  Grey wasn’t coming.

  Beth knew it more firmly with each breath she took. She lay on the bed. Her satin chemise was wet from a frantic sponging and clung clammily to her skin and her belly was sore from having been ill twice more. The sweet taste of the mint tea Miss Fairchild had forced on her calmed her stomach somewhat but she feared what might happen if she left the bed.

  A tapping sounded. With a moan, she rolled over to the window.

  A large shadow loomed in her window.

  Tingles crawled over her scalp then the hair on her nape stood on end. She opened her mouth. Then sucked the scream inwards as with a sense of utter disbelief she recognized Grey sitting in the huge old oak, rapping on the glass. Forgetting her nausea, she scrambled off the bed and hurried over to let him in.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as he leapt from the sill to the floor. He was a dazzling display of tall, long-legged, broad-shouldered male gorgeousness and she devoured him with her eyes.

  Elated energy pounded through her so violently she almost shook. He was here.

  He was really here.

  He brushed off his pantaloons. “They told me I could not see you and refused me entry into the house, so rather than argue I took matters into my own hands.”

  “Oh,” she replied dumbly. She couldn’t fathom a gentleman of his dignity climbing a tree and sneaking into the attic of Mrs. Hazelwood’s elegant, three-story red brick Georgian mansion.

  He straightened, brushed his coal black forelock off his forehead and fixed her with a stern look. “That cryptic, frantic note—what the devil was I supposed to think, Beth?”

  “Oh… I…” Her mind would not work to form speech. How did he always do this to her? Turn her into a stuttering nitwit? So pathetic.

  He sighed and held out his arms.

  She should have remained cool, but she couldn’t restrain herself—she flung herself at his body.

  At the impact, he rocked on his feet. He looked down with a smile full of tolerant patience. Oh, that smile, as if he hadn’t done a thing amiss and was merely tolerating some unwarranted and unpredictable feminine whim. All her anger rushed to the surface, wiping away her joy at seeing him.

  “Three weeks and not one letter—” She pounded her fist against his chest. “I thought you weren’t coming!”

  He made a sibilant sound and caressed her back.

  His scent surrounded her, his strength held her. Inexplicably, a warm sensation overcame her. Safety. Security. As if she belonged in no other place than his arms. All the fear, anger and longing she’d carried around for weeks rose to the surface, demanding release, and she crumpled against him, her face to his chest.

  His hand continued to stroke her back and he murmured tender, nonsensical things. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to cling to him. To accept his reassurance.

  The cloth of his jacket grew damp against her cheek. Her breathing turned hitching, wet sounding. God. She was weeping into his lapel. Abject horror washed over her. This was not the way to begin a marriage with this arrogant man. She was placing herself in a position of utter weakness. She put her hand to his chest and pushed.

  He clasped his hands to her back, held her firm. “Now, Beth, don’t be rash. Let’s neither of us do or say anything we shall regret. We’ve come this far.”

  “I don’t understand.” She blinked hard and sniffed several times, willing her tears to dry. “Why couldn’t you write to me?”

  He resumed massaging her back. “I am sorry, Beth. There was so much to do…”

  She studied the angles of his handsome face. “You really don’t want to marry me. I know it.”

  He let her go and stepped back. “I have engaged personal servants for your needs. I have bought you an entire wardrobe. I have thrown a small fortune at that family of yours. I assure you, I didn’t do it for the sheer amusement.”

  His annoyed, cold tone did little to soothe her. She hugged herself. “Yes, you’ve spent a great deal of money on me. And I am so very grateful for what you’ve done for me and my family but…”

  “What more could I possibly do to reassure you? I am here, Beth, ready and willing to marry you.”

  “I can’t help but think if you truly valued me, if you truly cared then you would have taken a moment to write to me. You would have been compelled to—as I was compelled to write to you.”

  His gaze flicked up to the rafters. He crossed his hands behind his back and began to pace. “Oh hell, this marriage business—”

  “Yes, yes.” The words exploded from her. “Let’s hear the truth of how you feel.”

  He stopped in front of the unlit hearth. He seemed to be staring at his feet. She could only keep her eyes focused on his face. She held her breath and fisted her hands at her sides, waiting to hear what she’d dreaded hearing. It would be better once he finally admitted the truth. It would be a relief.

  Her nails dug into her palms.

  “I warned you things would be easier if you were my mistress and I your protector. I am not accustomed to opening my life like this…“ His voice trailed off. His eyes enlarged. He went a degree paler. His nostrils flared slightly.

  Her stomach suddenly dropped and with great reluctance, she followed his eyes.

  Joshua’s letter laying face up in the grate.

  Her heart died.

  Just stopped dead and cold.

  Grey bent.

  Her heart leapt up into rapid beating life. She placed a hand to her throat, trying to push it down.

  Oh God… Why hadn’t she thought to crumple it up? Why could she never gather her wits?

  Grey picked up the vellum.

  She opened her mouth but no words came. Instead only a choked gasp.

  He stood, his eyes fixed to the paper.

  Beth’s breaths came hard and fast, like never before in her life.

  He chuckled, a low, cynical sound. “Ah, now this whole drama makes a great deal more sense.”

  Her stomach took another tumble. “Now Grey, please.”

  His expression was so blank— what was he thinking?

  Grey resisted the urge to crush the paper in his fist then cast it into the hearth. Instead, he calmly walked back to Beth. Her face was paler than even when he had first come into the chamber and her eyes were wide. He handed her the letter. “If you want to go to him, go now.”

  “But, Grey, I—”

  “Go now, because I won’t tolerate your infidelity after we are wed.”

  Beth gaped at him. Her stricken look threatened to make him cave. Threatened to make him reach for her and say weak, foolish things. He tensed his jaw and fixed her with his most severe look. “I mean it. I won’t tolerate even the least emotional disloyalty.”

  Her mouth–that soft, pink mouth—fell open and she blinked several times. “B-but I have no true desire to go to him. You know this.”

  “No true desire—but you had thoughts, doubts?”

  Her expression grew pained and she closed her eyes. She nodded.

  It was like a blow. Crushing him.

  “I heard nothing from you. I was so frightened. Frightened of my own fear, my own anger at being neglected.” Her words came as a rush.

  He recognized her franticness, the wildness in her eyes. She was overset, incapable of doing anything else but reacting to her own emo
tions. Then he remembered.

  She had come back to him.

  Yes, she had run from him. Again and again. Yet she had always returned to him. And today when she had had serious doubts, serious fears—doubts and fears he had provided her a real basis for—she had not gone running away with her former seducer.

  She had sent for him.

  The heaviness in his chest lightened. Considerably. He could almost laugh with the sudden realization of what the real issue was. “Bridal nerves.”

  She tilted her head and frowned. “What?”

  “You were simply suffering from bridal nerves. You are afraid of the change coming, as any sane, sensible person would be.” God, hadn’t he been terrified himself? And Beth would be victim of her own impulsive emotions.

  He’d known of her turbulent nature. From the first.

  He must be patient with her. He must learn to tolerate and weather her storms.

  He took the letter back from her and glanced over it again. What madness. There was nothing between her and the slender, bespectacled doctor. Nothing but dreams. Baseless dreams ill-suited to Beth herself.

  “Indiana?” He chuckled again and shook his head. “You in Indiana?”

  “You’re laughing about this?” Her eyes were wider now.

  He must make her see the truth of her own previous self-delusions. He must make her see reason. They must put this foolishness behind them and carry on with the day.

  “Do you particularly enjoy caring for sick people?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Just answer the question, Beth.”

  “I’ll do it if someone needs my help.” Her tone sounded defensive.

  “That’s not what I asked you. Do you find the idea of caring for sick people fulfilling?”

  She frowned, as if confused. She shook her head. “Honestly, no, not on any regular basis. If someone is sick, it is simply one more thing that must be dealt with. There is no great joy in it, however.”

  “Do you want to live in Indiana, live in a house made of logs, grass and mud?”

  She paused and stared at him with her mouth open. “Grey, you’re making a jest of this.”

  “Do you? I mean really?”

  She stared at him in silence, blinking rapidly.

  “Because that’s what it is really like. A mud floor and oiled paper in the windows. And the woods are full of bears and wolves. Oh yes, and the Indians just waiting to come at night to attack and loot the settlement. You’ll always have one eye open at night. Is this the life you want?”

  “What a horrid picture you draw. That’s not how it is in the settled areas.”

  “Those are the settled areas. Would you want to live under those conditions?”

  “Goodness, no,” she blurted. “I mean, who in their right mind would?” she continued somewhat apologetically.

  “Well, then, you’re not the wife for Dr. Joshua Wade.”

  Her frown deepened. “Grey, you’re not listening. I don’t want—”

  He spoke over her. “What do you want to do, Beth? I mean what do you really want to do with the rest of your life?”

  “You know what I want; I want my own children.”

  “Yes, but what else do you want?”

  “I want to teach piano.”

  “To the poor little girls in the city, where you can come home each night to a proper house? Where you don’t have to fear that a bear will knock the door down or that a wild Indian will carry you away in the night?”

  “Grey, stop making light of this—”

  “Just answer me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well then, marry me, because I want that for you too.”

  She turned away from him and stalked to the window. She gripped the sill and stared outside. The shadow of her breasts rose and fell very quickly. Her knuckles turned white.

  Perhaps he had placed too much value in the fact that she had returned to him again and again. “Now what, Beth?”

  “You needn’t have mocked me.” Hurt resonated in her voice.

  “I was not mocking you. I was trying to get you to look at things logically rather than be so damned emotional.”

  She blinked several times. “Logic. Rationality. About something like this?”

  “Yes. Absolutely. You need to learn to be more rational and stop reacting to everything like a flighty girl. For God’s sake, Beth, you frightened the very devil out of me. I never know what you might do. You are so very impulsive and driven by your emotions.” He became aware that his voice had raised several octaves. He took a deep breath then continued. “In a matter of hours you shall be my wife. Are you even ready for the responsibility of such a role?”

  Her hands twisted on the fabric of her shift, the movement drawing his attention to her youthful, firm body. Her small, pink nipples and the apex of her legs. His blood heated. That annoyed him more than anything. He could not seem to govern his own responses to this slip of a girl who had beguiled him and ensnared him into loving her.

  “You might have reassured me.” Her softly spoken words sent his ire and frustration into an unbearable state. Would she always madden him like this? All the remaining years of his life? Did she think he would give her two hundred and fifty thousand dollars if he meant to jilt her? Devil take it, he’d given her that money to show her the depth of his feelings in a real, tangible way. It should have ensured her confidence in his intentions, no matter what else happened.

  He forced himself to speak slowly and in a temperate tone. “I did try to reassure you. It did no good.”

  She whirled and faced him, her eyes wild and suspiciously glossy. “You reminded me how much money you had spent on me and my family. And then you congratulated yourself for just being here.”

  “Damn it, what would you have had me do?” He spoke sharply, louder than was polite. He didn’t care. She had driven him beyond caring.

  “Well, if I have to spell it out for you, what good is the doing on your part?”

  Oh God! Damn feminine notions. Was he supposed to read her thoughts? “You aren’t even making sense now, Beth. If you want something, then tell me and I shall provide it.”

  Her expression hardened. Dizziness swept over him. A whisper of a warning that disaster was near to strike. He opened his mouth to speak, to say anything to placate her.

  She was quicker. “I think we should call the wedding off.”

  She had bent forward as she hurled the words at him with her hands on her hips. Her eyes were wild, her face flushed. She looked every inch the spitting virago he knew her to be.

  He’d had enough of this. He wasn’t going through this for the rest of his life. No force on earth could push him into such a living hell.

  He fixed her with a stern look. “If that’s what you want, Beth, you shall have it.”

  She kept staring at him and rocked back on her heels, her face pale, her eyes wide as the ocean. “Oh God…”

  Her soft voice cut into him sharper than any knife or dagger could. Tears, huge and fat, went rolling down her face. The same beautiful face that had haunted each and every one of his dreams while he was away. She brushed them away with her arm. An ineffectual motion that made his heart twist in his chest.

  Beth was sure her heart and everything else vital and integral to her being had just expired within her. She would die when he left today and walked out of her life. Forever. But she had known it would end like this. Oh, damn her heart, hadn’t she known it would end just like this? They were too ill suited.

  “Beth.” His tone was softer.

  Her heart leapt at that softness. What if… But no, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough to gamble her entire future on. Better to let things end now. “Oh, just go. It is what you really wanted all along.”

  He was at her side in an instant. “That’s not true.”

  He touched her, his fingertips lightly flirting over her bare arms. Cautiously. As if she would push him away if he pressed her any more than that. He leaned c
loser. She dared not breathe, else the hope burgeoning in her would blossom into something too joyful to be borne once it was disappointed.

  “I missed you every moment I was away,” he whispered, as though he spoke a dangerous truth that mustn’t be said aloud.

  Hope threatened to break free. She held her breath firm, trying to keep that hope locked up.

  He caressed her cheek. “I love you insanely.”

  His hoarsely spoken words broke over her like warm honey, sweetness beyond bearing and all she wanted—needed to hear. She released her breath.

  God help her, she believed him. But what if—

  “I am simply trying to explain. With the war and everything pressing… This is not easy for me; you must be patient—”

  Hope. Her heart was bursting with it now. Needing to release it, she laughed softly. “I can be patient.”

  He drew her close and buried his face in the curve of her neck. “Beth… Oh, Beth. I missed you. You must know how desperately I missed you. It is summer but the nights were all so cold and lonely. I must have you living under the same roof, or I shall go insane with missing you. My life in New York is meaningless without you there. Everything is so cold and I feel so numb.

  “I didn’t know how to say all of that in a letter. I was so beleaguered with business that I couldn’t find the peace of mind to do so. And so, in a fit of misguided perfectionism, I said none of it. I am sorry, Beth.”

  She had sucked in her breath, afraid to make any movement lest it stop his rapid flow of words. And yet, had he really just said that? Or had she wanted to hear it so badly that she had invented this whole scene? Would she soon wake from a dream? She exhaled slowly. Then she took a deep breath.

  He pressed her body closer, so close she felt the air squeezing out of her lungs. She didn’t care. His mouth came down and captured hers in a kiss so bruising she tasted blood. His or hers? She didn’t know or care. She gave a moan of surrender and clasped his body to hers desperately. His arousal pressed into her. Joy stabbed through her. He broke the kiss and put his face back into the curve of her neck. He nipped at her earlobe and pleasurable shivers chased down her spine. “I want to fuck you, Beth. I need to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to think of anyone else ever fucking you again.”