Wild, Wicked and Wanton: A Hot Historical Romance Bundle

by Natasha Blackthorne

  Her eyebrows rose as her jaw dropped. “La—well, all right then, but I wasn’t. It’s just that I haven’t seen you since you returned from the Orient and I wonder if you’ve still got time for me.” She made a moue with her mouth and studied him, waiting.

  He let his eyes trail over her lush breasts and round hips, trying to convince himself of her worth. She’d always been a damned pleasant ride. Moreover, her bed was only a block away and it had always been warm.

  “Well?” Her question hung between them, pressuring him into a decision.

  “Aye,” he breathed with the air of one contemplating an unwanted expense. Which didn’t make sense to him. He needed something pleasant and uncomplicated in his life. Maggie was certainly that.

  Pleasure lit her blue eyes and her smile curved wider, showing her perfect white teeth. “So the appeal of the little crusader began to pall?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” All afternoon long, he’d toyed with the idea of coming here and sweetening Maggie with his attentions so he could take her to his bed. But the longer he stayed in her company, the more she began to irritate him.

  “All right, then, we won’t talk about her. Except I’ll say this—my husband was an idealist. They are not like us.”

  Yes, that much he already knew.

  She glanced at the dance floor and the candelabras’ light caught her diamond earrings, sparkling orbs that fascinated his eye as she continued, “The pleasures of life are not enough for them, they always have to think of how this could be better or that could be better and they cannot simply rest and be. They must always be moving and progressing and improving. Or simply feeling romantic angst for what cannot be. They are creatures of the spirit.”

  “Yes, you are correct,” he said.

  She met his eyes again and tapped her chin with her fan. “How lucky for you that you discovered it before you did something foolish like declare yourself. I didn’t know Gerard was like that until after we’d wed. It was quite a shock to see the full depth of his foolishness in that area. He lived in a world of his own dreams.”

  He hadn’t realized how different he was from Emily until their quarrel. He’d placed all his attention on their stunning compatibility in bed and her ability to make him feel whole. She was the first woman he’d felt deeply for and it was precisely because of her crusading spirit. Was he doomed to only love a woman who was exactly wrong for him?

  Maggie touched his arm and let her fingertips trail over his woolen sleeve. “You and I are creatures of the flesh. We know how to enjoy life.”

  That they did. So alike in that way, they could have been spawned from the same seed. Maybe he couldn’t expect to ever be whole again. Maybe the most he could expect was to find someone to keep him warm and pass the time pleasantly with.

  The music stopped, the couples drifted away from the dance floor. With her hand in Peter’s, Emily glanced up. Her eyes met Alex’s. It took a moment for her to perceive Maggie stroking Alex’s arm but he knew the moment she did. Her eyes widened, betraying her hurt, then they flashed fire.

  A sharp pain, a tightening in his chest made him catch his breath then exhale slowly.

  Don’t do a thing. Let her believe you’ve replaced her. Let the hurt end this for her own good.

  Emily turned away but he fancied she held herself quite rigidly. It tore at him. He couldn’t bear it.

  Damn it.

  He pulled his arm away from Maggie. “Pardon me, I have to go.”

  Her expression turned hard as ice. “Oh.” Her right eyebrow arched. “I see.”

  Her tone could have frozen a man’s cock right off.

  What was there to say after that? He’d squarely slammed the door in his own face. It didn’t matter. He’d already acknowledged the folly of thinking he could soon forget Emily in some other woman’s bed. No matter how welcoming or warm that woman’s bed was, it could offer him no quarter. He nodded to Maggie and went to catch up to Emily.

  He intended to set her straight on just what sort of a gentleman Peter was.

  ****

  Emily asked Peter to fetch her a cup of punch then she escaped to the balcony. The chilly breeze did little to relieve the hot flush of jealous anger from her face. How could Alex have replaced her so soon? She’d been nothing to him. Nothing. Just another in a long line of mistresses.

  Had he-he…sodomized—she didn’t know another word for that ultimate intimate act—Maggie Johnson? Had he spanked her in the midst of their carnal relations? Would he now ask her to wear the exotic kohl around those vivid blue eyes? Painful pressure built in Emily’s throat and she closed her eyes, fighting back tears. She didn’t want him showing those deeper sides of himself to anyone else. Oh, she wanted him just for herself!

  “Emily.”

  The sound of Alex’s voice sent heated chills through her. It also shocked her. She hadn’t expected him to follow. She inhaled deeply then turned. The sight of his face took her breath. Not because of his handsomeness but because every line and contour of his visage was so dear to her. Because she loved him. Loved him even knowing his weaknesses. What did that say about her?

  “You need to be wary of Peter,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  He scowled. “You know what I mean. Don’t play coy.”

  The thought that he might be jealous made her heart leap with joy and put warmth in her belly. But she couldn’t let herself feel those things. She couldn’t care about that any more. She forced herself to be cool. “Oh, I need to be wary of Peter? How thoughtful of you to take the time away from your mistress to tell me.”

  “She’s not my mistress.”

  She let her lip curl up. “Save your lies for your other women.”

  “He’s not the man for you. I know he seems kind; and, well, he is kind. But he has another side. A wild, reckless side. He gambles, he duels, he chases women unrelentingly. He has a fierce temper once provoked. You really do not know him.”

  “How is any of that different from you?”

  A muscle jumped in his cheek and he took a sharp breath in. “We’re not discussing me. Peter is not the husband for you. Do you know Elizabeth is not his only illegitimate child?”

  “You’ve a lot of gall to say these things to me. I don’t want to listen any more.” She pulled away from him then fled the balcony and went out into the gardens. She heard the sound of boots on the gravel path. Of course he would follow her. He would not even let her have the privacy to lick her wounds in. Resentment burned through her. He wanted to own her, to dictate her acts while claiming freedom for himself.

  “Leave me alone,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Emily, wait, just wait.”

  His voice, pure tender appeal, tugged at her heartstrings. She resisted. “No, just leave me be.”

  She hurried to the row of hedges lining the farthest edge of the garden, then moved along the stone garden wall, looking for the gate. Where she meant to go, she had no idea. She only knew that she couldn’t risk getting close to him. Not this soon. She was still too raw, too weak to his appeal.

  “Emily. What are you running for? Are you that afraid I am speaking the truth?”

  His certainty infuriated her and anger gave her strength. She stopped and faced him. The light from the torches shone through the hedge and cast uneven shadows on his handsome face, distorting his expression. One moment he seemed friendly, the next he seemed to be scowling at her. She closed her eyes, willing the illusion to disappear.

  “You want to be Peter’s wife and spend all your nights alone in New York while he travels everywhere and warms his bed with other women? Your pride won’t like that.”

  She blinked at him pointedly. “Why should I believe marriage to you would have been any different? You certainly seem to have found someone to warm your own bed quickly enough. If you weren’t seeing her on the sly all along.”

  “Oh, come, that kind of suspicion flatters neither of us. Surely we are above it.”
r />   “What about your baseless suspicions of Peter?”

  He chuckled softly, the sound brittle with cynicism. “My suspicions are hardly baseless.”

  “Peter has simply been kind to me.”

  “Oh, I am sure he has. The man is in a fever of lust for you.”

  “No, it’s not like that. He’s been a complete gentleman.”

  He placed his hand lightly about the base of her throat. “You tell me if that changes, I’ll call him out on it.”

  “It’s not your place any longer.”

  The breeze moved the hedge and light spilled over his face, throwing his handsome, classically sculptured features into sharp relief. His gaze dropped, as if staring at her mouth. “Isn’t it?”

  Chapter Eight

  The warmth of Alex’s touch reawakened all of her desire. Emily wanted to feel his hands all over her. To feel him crushing his body to hers. Hunger swept through her, so strong she closed her eyes and a moan escaped her parted lips.

  His heated breath wafted on her face an instant before he pressed his lips to hers. How dare he? She flattened her palms on his chest and shoved.

  He took her shoulders and held her firm. She panicked, struggling, pushing and twisting. He grasped her wrists and pulled them behind her, pressing them to the cold stone wall. Her energy evaporated and she sagged weakly. All the while, he continued kissing her.

  Oh, God, she had longed for the taste of his mouth, the feel of his hands upon her. She couldn’t resist for long. With another moan, she opened to him, nestling herself closer to him. His scent overwhelmed her senses and the feel of his strong, hard body fuelled her hunger.

  All her anger and jealousy, all the fire of her longing over the past weeks welled up inside, and poured out into her response. She lashed her tongue against his. He pressed his hips forward and his erection throbbed insistently against her. With her shoulders braced to the wall, she shifted her hips and lifted on her toes so her own pelvis made contact with his hardness.

  He went rigid and tore his mouth away from hers. “Christ.”

  The passion in his voice reverberated into her bones. Hot shivers of desire shook her and wetness began to flow between her legs.

  He released her wrists and leaned away from her. At the loss of his body, she moaned in protest. He swooped down, picked up her hem, and with one quick jerk sent brisk air biting through her silk stockings, rushing upwards as he lifted her skirts. She leant weakly back against the wall.

  Yes, yes, yes.

  She wanted this. Just this once more. Even here, outside in the chilly weather, in someone else’s garden against a stone wall where anyone might discover them.

  He touched between her legs.

  She moaned and lifted her hips. He teased her soft, inner folds slowly, as if they were not in danger of public exposure. Her inner lips swelled, her wetness increased and she was so ready to be filled by him. So very ready. Achingly empty.

  “Alex.”

  He nipped her neck and thrust two fingers into her channel. The friction, the fullness was divine. Her inner walls gripped his digits and she gasped, arching closer to him.

  He moved his fingers back and forth.

  She moaned and gripped his shoulders.

  He grazed her nub with his thumb and pleasure jolted through her. She gave a sharp cry.

  “Like that, sweetheart?” He brushed it again.

  “Oh, yes, yes!” she whispered.

  Laughter echoed on the slight breeze. Two ladies strolling very close to them.

  He exhaled sharply and froze for a moment.

  She leaned hard against the wall, breathless and a little giddy. Her cunny clenched, hungrily.

  He withdrew his hand then yanked her skirts down. He rested his forehead on hers, panting harshly. “You make me insane.” His heated whisper tickled her face. He stepped away from her and his gaze swept over her. “You’re completely undone, your hair…”

  With her heart pounding furiously at her chest wall, she ran a hand over her hair and found it hopelessly mussed. “I can’t go back in there.”

  He stared at her, his eyes burning with desire. Then he took her arm lightly. “I shall take you back to Mrs. Hazelwood’s house.”

  “That would be madness. We shouldn’t be alone.” Her voice trembled with the hot blood still surging in her veins.

  “Well, as you just said, you can’t go back inside like this.” He chuckled softly. “Do you want me to fetch Peter and tell him that you’re ready to go home?”

  “Oh God, no…” She couldn’t bear for anyone, even Peter, to see her like this. He would know how shamelessly she had fallen under Alex’s spell.

  ****

  In the carriage, Emily quietly stared out of the window at the night.

  She was crying.

  Alex could sense it from the way his guts were twisting. Finally, he could take it no longer. He moved across the seat, closer to her, and touched her face. It was wet.

  She tried to turn away but he stopped her. “Emily.”

  He put his mouth to her cheek, tasting her salty tears, and he moved to her lips, kissing her with tenderness that slowly grew into hunger as she opened to him and responded with passion. Time stood still as they kissed and the taste and feel of her mouth made his heart race. Blood surged into his cock, lengthening and hardening it and forcing him to shift on the seat.

  She reached between his legs and grasped him. The shock of her boldness aroused him almost as much as her touch. Her hand gripped and then closed over his erection. He groaned deep in his throat. She opened and closed her hand with flawless, sensual instinct. He’d never had to teach her that, she’d been born to make love.

  She began undoing his buttons. His erection stretched his fall and provided resistance and the process was painfully, deliciously slow. His heart beat so hard now, he wondered if it would break. Finally, she had him undone and his cock sprang into her hand. She stroked him. Her hand was rose-petal soft and warm. When had she removed her glove?

  He groaned and his cock leaked freely. He put his hand over hers and felt his own wet eagerness on her. Together they stroked him and his desire flared almost beyond bearing. He put his other hand to her cheek, pressing her head backwards into the top of the carriage seat and he thrust his tongue deeper into her mouth in long, lingering caresses.

  Soon, they were forced to part. They both panted for air. She still caressed him. Gripping him, closing and releasing, running her nimble fingers up and down, making him harder, longer than sanity could bear. He wanted to flip her skirts up and fuck her. Hard. Right here, right now. But it wouldn’t be right. She deserved better. She deserved time and tenderness. He wanted to make her come and come. And come again after that.

  He took her wrist and pulled her hand away. “That’s enough of that.”

  He cupped her face and stared into sherry-brown eyes that reflected back all his love and longing and desire.

  “We have to… We have to…” Her voice was husky, accentuating each word with a hitching little catch that spoke more than anything of her need and ratcheted his own hunger so that his cock throbbed painfully.

  He placed his lips to her temple. “I know, I know.” He closed his eyes and inhaled her gillyflower scent mixed with the tangy aroma of her feminine arousal.

  “You’ll take me to your rooms?” The question was all sweet persuasion.

  As if he needed any persuasion. But what she’d asked was impossible now.

  “I let the rooms go. I gave the landlord the key back.”

  “Why?” Her tone quavered with sadness.

  “Because I couldn’t bear the thought of going there with anyone else.”

  “Oh.”

  She sounded so sweet and submissive, he couldn’t hold back. He cupped her face and brought his mouth down on hers again and tasted deeply of her kiss again. She touched him again. Gripped him. Squeezed him.

  He growled deep in his throat. He broke the kiss and leant back and let her have
her way, closing his eyes and shuddering all over with the pleasure until his balls drew near to his body and his orgasm drew too close. Groaning with pained desire, he removed her hand again. “Emily, you’re killing me. Absolutely killing me.”

  “Whatever shall we do?”

  “I’ll take you back to my house. Rachel and everyone will be abed, we can sneak into my study.”

  ****

  Emily’s bare hand was still sticky with Alex’s leakage and tightly clasped within his. They were on the stoop of his house on Chestnut Street and he was putting his key into the door. He loved her still. She had seen it in his eyes. Tasted it in his kisses, felt it in every throb of his erection.

  Their separation was surely over. They couldn’t part after this. He would relent and see things her way. He would let her come back into his life. He would marry her and still let her produce her book. Let her do whatever she wanted to with her art and crusade as she wished. No man who could kiss her like that, make her feel like that, could ever be so insensitive to her again.

  The door opened. In the light from the lantern overhead, he turned and looked down at her.

  Passion and tenderness lit his eyes.

  How foolish she’d been to become so angry with him. So frightened.

  When he had forbidden her to work on the book, he must have spoken in the heat of the moment. No man could look at her with such love and do anything to limit her liberty.

  She was his, now and forever, and her place was right here at his side.

  She would have to work harder at trusting him. She must work harder at not reacting so emotionally to everything.

  He pulled her into the house. The familiar spice and citrus scent filled the air. Her heart contracted.

  Home.

  Alex’s house.

  Their house.

  Yes, this was home to her now and no other would do.

  Light shone from the parlor and the soft rumble of voices engaged in polite conversation echoed along the dark entryway.

  The moment of intense connection was shattered. Emily removed her hand from Alex’s and fished in her pocket for her discarded glove. Finding it, she hastily donned it, as though leaving her hand bare would have been indecent and allowed others to guess at the intimacies that had just passed between her and Alex in the carriage.