Wild, Wicked and Wanton: A Hot Historical Romance Bundle

by Natasha Blackthorne

  Where would she get the money for apples?

  Well, she still had her twenty-five cents among her possessions. She would use it to buy some day old bread. And then, when she was sated and full, she would nap all afternoon…but wait? Where?

  She had no home now.

  “Go on, now—I haven’t got all day.” Alex’s voice cut into her thoughts.

  With a deep breath, she pushed her hunger and fatigue aside and snatched the money up. The carriage door opened and she allowed Alex’s driver to help her down and forced her legs to move faster as she hurried away to the ragman’s door.

  * * * *

  Alex entered the salvage shop and scanned the room in one sweeping glance. It was well maintained and clean. Emily stood at the counter, a small, dark-haired figure. When the door opened, she’d turned and a vertical crease had showed between her large, troubled eyes.

  The man behind the counter looked past Emily, his own eyes growing wide at the sight of Alex. An old, worn valise sat on the floor. A pile of clothes littered the countertop along with several books. Alex paused and blinked. Apparently, she wasn’t illiterate. Not only that, but she had strong interests—no, passions—this girl would have passions, not mere interests. “Miss Eliot, are you ready to go now?” Alex asked, forcing a bored tone.

  Her beautiful eyes flashed at him in a way that made him catch his breath. “He says he must have twenty dollars for my things.”

  Alex walked to the counter and lifted several items of clothing, looking them over. None of them were fit for her to wear. He’d need to take care of that right away.

  She’d been evicted. She wore rags. It did seem odd that she hadn’t done even a little better for herself selling her body, but then she was young. Perhaps she spent her earnings impulsively. Maybe she felt responsible for someone else’s debts. No matter, he could teach her to be wiser with her money. He could also deal with anyone leeching off her.

  He noted that her books were mostly on art instruction but were very basic and old. Art and art instruction was another thing he could spoil her with. He looked forward to the pleasure of it.

  He dropped the items of clothing and flashed the ragman a stern glare. “It doesn’t look worth twenty whole dollars to me.”

  “Perhaps we can work out a bargain,” the man said with servile smile.

  Alex ignored him. “Did you have any money in your room?”

  Emily’s delicate shoulders sank in a way that sent pure protectiveness through him.

  “I had twenty-five cents in this book.” She opened a book that had a hollow cut into the pages in the middle. “It’s no longer there. Mr. Bradley says it wasn’t there when he took the book.”

  A charge lit Alex’s blood.

  Christ. Twenty-five cents and that was all she had in the world—all that stood between her and starvation. And this man wanted to snatch it from her? The beady, rapacious gray eyes reminded him of another such pair. The kind of evil that counted the rights of the weaker as nothing. Remembrance of the powerlessness he’d once been forced to suffer rose like bitter bile.

  He reached across the counter and grabbed the ragman by both sides of his pretentiously high, pointed, French-styled collar. “Where’s her money?”

  “I-I…there was no money!”

  “And I say you’re a thief. Shall I call the watch?”

  Bradley’s eyes bugged at that. The damned scaly bastard knew as well as Alex that under a system of private prosecution, a girl—a young, poor, powerless harlot—like Emily would have a difficult time pressing a case of theft.

  But Alex could. And would.

  In fact, it would be a pleasure. He bared his teeth in an anticipatory grin.

  Bradley uttered a choking sound, something akin to how a half-decapitated chicken might sound. He tried to step back, but Alex held him firmly. “I repeat, shall I call the watch?”

  “Uh… Uh… There’s been a misunderstanding. I misunderstood you.” The man’s voice grew higher pitched with each word.

  “You’re correct there’s been a misunderstanding. I think it started the moment you took this girl’s possessions into your shop.”

  “You know, you’re exactly right.”

  Alex released him and smiled. “I am glad we understand each other so well.”

  The man laughed nervously and straightened his stock with hands that visibly shook. The stench of his sweat filled the air.

  Aye, that was the way of it. When faced with a stronger force, they always fell quickly. Ice cold with inner disgust, Alex retrieved the valise, opened it and began shoving her items of clothing inside.

  “Alex?”

  He turned to Emily. Her eyes were huge in her thin face and she looked a little pallid. With her shoulders slumping, she appeared ready to fall over with fatigue. Protectiveness warmed him.

  “Gather your notebooks. I am very short on time. I shall send a servant and a cart to collect the rest.” He glanced at Bradley. “There was more, correct?”

  Bradley paled and nodded in a jerking fashion. “Yes.”

  Emily chewed her lip. “My notebooks and the money were the most important things. You needn’t trouble yourself further.”

  Irritated impatience snapped through him. “Don’t you want all of your possessions restored?”

  “Yes, of course, but I have nowhere to put all those things, Alex. I must take only what will fit into the valise.”

  “I’ll take care of the storage. Don’t worry.”

  She blinked several times. “But what do I pay the man?”

  Bradley turned from ashen to a decidedly grayish color. He threw up his hands, waving them urgently in front of him as if he needed to fend off Emily’s words like a tangible threat.

  “You owe me nothing.”

  With the valise in hand, Alex gathered up as many books as he could hold under his other arm. Then he nodded at her. “Get the remainder of your books and let’s be on our way.”

  He turned away and opened the door, waiting for her to pass through it before he followed her out.

  She stopped and turned, a frown creasing her brow. “How did you know he would be that way?”

  Again, he studied her fragile frame, her girlish face, her obviously well-worn clothing, seeing all the things she probably couldn’t see in herself. “Because I know how the world works.”

  “That’s a terribly cynical view.”

  “It’s a truthful one.”

  She stared at him intently, as if studying him now. Did her eyes look glassy? Had she paled or was that simply the glare of the midday sun?

  “Are you well?”

  “Quite well.” She smiled at him, all white teeth and full, lush lips. She turned and continued walking towards the carriage.

  He stayed put, watching her with a sense of dread settling in his guts, waiting… She swayed on her feet. He dropped the valise and closed the distance between them quickly, catching her.

  Her books spilled about her feet. She looked up at him, her eyes rolling back then closing. He cradled her limp form against his body.

  Feeling came over him like a deluge. Tenderness, protectiveness, damned bloody helplessness. He looked to the carriage, where the tall, thin black servant waited, leaning against the vehicle, watching the traffic on the sidewalk. “Elisha!”

  The young man turned then rushed over.

  “Take her books and then get the valise, put them in the carriage.”

  As the driver hurried to comply, Alex gathered her up into his arms and carried her to the vehicle. He laid her on the forward-facing seat, grateful that he’d ordered the closed carriage. He loosened the ties of her gown and then took her wrists and rubbed them.

  Her eyes fluttered open.

  “Emily.”

  She laughed weakly. “Oh goodness.”

  Relief and a sort of elation washed over him. He still held her wrists and now let his fingers trace over their fragile bones—over her long, fine-boned fingers—with a sense of having som
ething very precious and rare dropped into his lap.

  But she was just a harlot. In a city full of them. And he wasn’t a man who could be particularly trusted with anything precious and rare.

  * * * *

  Voices intruded on the sense of warmth and safeness. Emily moaned and turned over, nestling deeper into the incredible plushness of the feather bed. Sloshing sounds echoed from the next room. She sat up with a start. Candlelight shone through the cracks in the curtains of the huge four-poster bed.

  She had pulled them earlier, thinking that she didn’t want to be surprised.

  She was in Alexander Dalton’s rented rooms. In his bedchamber, sleeping in his bed.

  Earlier, Zachariah, Alex’s valet, had left her alone with the food and the steaming copper tub and told her that if she needed anything, he would be waiting outside in the corridor.

  “Goodness, he expects you to wait there…like a sentry?”

  The tall, slender man with pale brown skin and coal-black eyes had frowned. “Excuse me, miss, but do you think I’d be leaving a young lady like yourself alone in a place like this—even if he didn’t ask?”

  “Pardon me, I meant no insult. I simply…”

  She hadn’t been able to think of what to say, for his frown had deepened and he had straightened his spine, tugging at the bottom of his fine, maroon-colored waistcoat.

  “Mr. Alex is a good, fair man and I don’t question his directions.” He flashed her a stern look. “Neither should you.”

  He had walked to one of the bookshelves located on either side of the hearth and picked a thick, leather-bound book embossed with gold. Then he’d pointed one long, thin finger at the door. “I shall be outside, miss, if you need me.”

  He’d taken one of the straight-backed wooden chairs and his lantern, then left the chamber, closing the door behind him.

  What a strange man. He certainly hadn’t seemed to approve of her, and to know that he was just going to be sitting out there, alone in that dreary corridor… She’d shivered at the thought.

  But the small table had been set with a meal of roast chicken, fresh bread, cheese, claret and a selection of fruits she hadn’t even realized anyone could procure this late in the season. After months of blood pudding and stale bread, she’d pushed all her uneasiness about Zachariah aside and eaten until she was pleasantly stuffed.

  Afterwards, she’d dallied in the copper tub until the water had grown cold. It had been many months since she’d enjoyed an actual tub bath. So much steaming water cost money. Then she’d wandered into the bedchamber and curled into this bed. And floated into the deepest sleep she’d known in a very long time.

  Now her time was nearly up.

  He was bathing in the next room. Preparing himself to come in here and—and—

  She swallowed, hard. Her body went all tingly, a mixture of fear and excitement.

  She pulled together the edges of the dark blue velvet wrapper she’d found waiting for her on the bed. It was obviously a garment of Alex’s, and it swallowed her up. Carefully gathering up the hem, she crawled across the expanse of bed, then left the cocooning warmth of the bed curtains.

  She glanced at the clock over the mantelpiece. It was almost one in the morning. Alex had told her that he had some supper party to attend and he’d come here straightaway afterwards.

  Footfalls echoed on the floorboards in the other chamber. One floorboard that sounded terribly close to the threshold of the bedchamber squeaked loudly and her heart leapt into a rapid beat.

  The bedchamber door came open.

  She looked up.

  He stood in the doorway, his hair shining pale gold against his dark blue banyan. Dear Lord, he was so handsome. If she had to lose her virginity in this way, she could have picked no one more appealing.

  He gave her a small, relaxed smile. “Did you sleep well?”

  She nodded as her hand drew up of its own accord and pulled the gaping neckline of the dressing gown tight.

  “Dark blue becomes you.” He held out his hands. “Come here, sweetheart.”

  At his words, her stomach seemed to drop lower, with a tugging sensation. Moisture began to flow between her thighs and her legs went weak.

  She approached him slowly, a little wobbly, her mouth going dry with both fear and excitement. He took her hands and pulled her close.

  Heavens—the moment already.

  Her legs started trembling. Her mind scrambled for some postponement—anything to gain a moment’s delay. The scent of whiskey clung to him and he looked slumberous, as if he were a bit tipsy. It made his face look younger.

  “Wait.” She placed her hand on his chest. “How old are you?”

  He started, as if her question were unexpected. “Twenty-eight.”

  “Oh…but I thought you were at least thirty-five.” She sounded so foolish. She laughed to cover her nervousness. The sound echoed back, so stilted and forced that she winced inside.

  He was going to guess.

  Oh, God—he was going to guess that she wasn’t experienced.

  His gold brows drew together. “Does it matter, sweetheart?”

  “No.” Her voice sounded so small and husky.

  “Well, thank goodness.” He flashed her a heart-stopping smile, then lowered his head, his eyes growing dark with desire. Her heart pounded against her rib cage. Knowing that he was closer to her own age did nothing to make the situation any less intimidating. He was still so handsome, so charming, so worldly.

  And he was about to take the last of her innocence.

  He kissed her. Not in the hungry, impassioned way she’d read in his eyes but slowly, almost tentatively, brushing along the edges of her lips like a butterfly touching down and lifting off, moving until he had traversed their entirety. The sensation was so sweet that she sighed and closed her eyes, giving herself over to pure bliss.

  “Dear God, you have a lovely mouth,” he whispered in a reverent tone. With his tongue he followed the path his lips had just traveled, using the right amount of moisture to create a silken, velvety slide.

  She shivered with delight. Why had she feared this? It was divine.

  “Emily.” He ran a caressing finger over her bottom lip. “Will you do something for me?”

  Wetness flooded between her thighs like nothing she’d ever known. She wanted to please him. Not just because of the money but also for some reason she couldn’t fathom at the moment.

  “Anything.” Was that really her voice, so submissive and breathy?

  “I want you to take me into your lovely mouth.”

  Chapter Six

  Alex’s request made Emily’s heart skip a beat and she gasped. She could barely believe her own hearing—He wanted her to take his…his cock into her mouth. The notion shocked her. Did people really do such things? Moreover, could she do something so wicked, so perverse?

  He laughed softly. “It’s probably rather piggish of me to ask so soon, but you see…” Again he ran a caressing fingertip over her lower lip and his voice became husky and sensual. “I spent the better part of last night picturing it. I cannot wait.”

  He pulled her tightly against his body. Through his wrapper and hers, his erection was huge and hot and throbbing. Weakness washed over her and, in its wake, she began to tremble with anxiety and pleasurable excitement. Her heartbeat quickened with fear. Why had she thought she could sham her way through this?

  She didn’t know the first thing about pleasing a man. What if she did it wrong? What if he guessed that she was an untried virgin and expelled her from his rooms? She’d have to go back to the Blue Duck and find someone else. Maybe someone as repulsive and cruel as Green. Her heart began to pound against her chest wall as her panic threatened to spiral out of control.

  No, stop it. Don’t give in to fear. You’ve made it this far.

  After all, she didn’t have to be the absolute best harlot he’d ever known. She only had to give a believable performance. First, she’d have to get control over her rising pa
nic. She took a long, slow breath, trying to steady herself.

  He undid his belt and pulled the garment open to reveal his nakedness. She dropped her gaze to his well-muscled chest, covered with sandy-colored hair, his flat, hard, muscled stomach, his narrow hips where the hair tapered to a thin line. Then her gaze moved lower and her mouth went completely dry and her breath stopped. Yes, men were shaped a great deal like stallions. But even though she’d already felt it both last night and tonight—she hadn’t expected it to be so…large. So erect and rising from its nest of pale gold hair to crest high against his front.

  Her eyes flew back to his face. He was watching her very closely. The moment suddenly became too intimate to bear and her face flamed. Oh dear, that wasn’t very convincing for a seasoned harlot. She reached out a trembling hand. She would grasp him and show him how experienced she was. But at the last moment her heart hopped up into her throat, choking her nerve away.

  Her hand hung there, suspended, until she re-gathered her gumption and placed it on his abdomen. She moved it along the silken hair. His muscles tightened under her touch and something hot and slightly moist brushed her hand. She jumped and withdrew touch and jerked her gaze down. His cock twitched. She stared, transfixed by its pure, masculine beauty.

  He wrapped his hand about the base, holding his cock up so that it appeared even larger than it otherwise might. With his other hand, he swept her hair aside and caressed the back of her neck.

  There was a new tension between them. She sensed that he was waiting. Waiting for her to comply with his request. Her heart pounded harder still and the chamber seemed suddenly overly warm. A wave of dizziness flirted over her. But she realized something else. She was also wet—dripping, gushing down the insides of her thighs. She wanted to do this thing that he wanted her to do. Because he was so utterly male and because he wanted her to do it. Because he was so beautiful. He was the first man she’d been close to—the first one she’d wanted to be close to like this.