Wild, Wicked and Wanton: A Hot Historical Romance Bundle

by Natasha Blackthorne

  She was alone with the coldness of her despair. The crash to the very bottom, when it came, was too much. Tears fell from her eyes and sobs racked her body so hard they made her stomach hurt.

  He rolled back and drew her into his arms. “Shh , don’t cry, sweetheart, don’t cry.”

  He began to rock her. The sharp scent of his male sweat hit her nostrils, clearing her thoughts. She pushed away from him and sat up. Her damp, lank hair fell down on her face and she flipped it away, threw her hands up to cover her face and cried all the harder.

  He caressed her back. She bristled all over then jumped to her feet. Her dampened nightgown bunched about her waist. She yanked it down to cover herself.

  “Come back to bed, sweeting.”

  She turned to him. “That girl is your daughter.”

  His gaze was full of sadness. Maybe even a hint of remorse, or was it guilt?

  But he didn’t avoid her eyes or try to sham her with his charming smile. He nodded, so slowly she almost thought she had imagined it.

  “Your daughter!” she whispered stridently.

  “Yes, she is my daughter.” He spoke as if each word cost him a pint of his life’s blood.

  “Are you going to continue to deny her?”

  He just stared at her with that sad, guilty look.

  She gaped at him. “How can you be so heartless?”

  In the waning firelight, she saw him flinch. “I have no choice, Emily. No choice.”

  She swiped at her eyes. “What do you mean no choice? You have all the choice. She has none.”

  In the wake of her outburst, she went weak. Her jelly-like knees forced her to collapse upon the bed. She sat there and sniffed, a wholly unladylike wet, sloshing sound. She put a hand to her aching stomach and hiccupped loudly.

  So much for their love dying with dignity.

  She wiped her face on her sleeve, uncaring.

  He touched her shoulders, began caressing them but remained quiet beside her.

  She caught her breath enough to speak. “You could bring her into your home and raise her as your own.”

  “No, I made necessary decisions years ago that cannot be undone now. I told you there are things I cannot explain.” He touched her arm. “Look at me.”

  At his soft command, she turned without thought and faced the most terrible, fierce, soul-penetrating stare she’d ever seen.

  “You must keep my secrets. For my daughter’s sake.”

  His distrust scalded a welt onto her heart. How could he even bring himself to think she would tell his secrets? “You needn’t have asked. Of course I would never hurt you—or her—like that.”

  He stared into her eyes for a few moments more then his expression relaxed.

  “Alex, you cannot do this to us. You cannot simply shut me out. We have to talk.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss. You hold me in contempt.” His look accused her.

  She blinked and shifted uneasily. Did she hold him in actual contempt? In some moments, yes she had. But gazing into his eyes right now, she was willing to forgive and forget everything that had passed between them before.

  If only he would explain the matter of his daughter. If only there were a really good reason he had abandoned his child, his own flesh and blood. Oh God, of course there could be no valid reason, what madness was she falling into? Willing to grasp the flimsiest of excuses—

  “Tonight you hold me in greater contempt than ever.” His tone was so cold, so frighteningly final.

  “I just need to know why, Alex, why.”

  “I see you have decided to think the worst of me.”

  “No, no…but I do need to hear the truth from you.”

  “I. Can’t. Tell. You.” His eyes blazed with frustration.

  She moved back. “You could tell me if you chose to.”

  “I can’t. You have to accept my word that it was necessary to allow my cousins to raise her as their own.”

  “But why?”

  “If you loved me, you would simply believe in me.”

  “If you loved me, you would trust me with all your secrets.”

  “You do not want to know my secrets, believe me. I could never tell them to you, do you understand that? Why won’t you hear me?”

  “How bad could such revelations be?” Her heart began to sink. Perhaps he really had done something truly heinous. Something that would horrify her so deeply, she’d never be able to think of him as anything but evil.

  She caught her breath. She had never considered this before. She had thought she knew him too well, that he could never have done anything really bad.

  Yet, tonight’s revelations proved she did not know him at all.

  If there were nothing appalling to hide, why wouldn’t he have shared the secret of his daughter with her?

  His sharp exhalation jerked her attention to his face. He was watching her so closely that a curl of unease threaded through her stomach.

  He shook his head. “I cannot accept a wife who holds me in contempt.”

  ”You wouldn’t keep such dark mysteries from me, if… if you loved me.” She sniffled again, the salty taste of tears nauseating her. “I feel I don’t even know you—except for knowing that you are capable of turning your back on the reality of life. You want to escape into some sheltered world of happiness that your wealth can purchase and ignore the suffering in the world. That I cannot respect. But I would not call that contempt.”

  “I would.” He moved away from her and left the bed. He went to gaze out the window.

  She rose quickly off the bed. “I just want to understand,” she said, following him to the window. “Yes, you say those people are all she knows. They are her parents now. But how could you leave her in their care?”

  She put her hand on his shoulder.

  He whirled to face her, his eyes blazing.

  Heart thudding, she leapt back. “Alex, please!”

  “What do you want to hear? You want to hear me say that I was out of my head then? That I left her there, dropped her off like a sack of unwanted kittens, and went to Paris and fucked every whore who would oblige me—that I drank and gambled myself into forgetfulness!”

  His vehemence stunned her, as if she’d been struck. “No, no—I’ll never believe that.”

  Fool, you know it is the truth!

  “I wanted to die. I longed to die. I would do reckless things—get myself into dares and duels—and I did not care what became of me.”

  She let go a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “But what—what could be so bad that you would be that way?”

  He smiled—a snarling sneer that twisted his handsome features into something ugly. “What’s the matter? You don’t yet have enough fodder to base your contempt upon? Does not your imagination spin lurid enough visions to horrify you?”

  “Alex, please…”

  “What shall I tell you? That I came home and lived fairly much the same way? That my coldness, my lack of attention caused my mistress to throw herself off the roof of my mansion on the Schuylkill?”

  “But that wasn’t your fault! You didn’t kill her—” She clamped her mouth closed before the word “right?” could escape her.

  “Didn’t I?”

  “No, she killed herself. That’s what Peter sa—” Once again, she clamped her jaw closed.

  Too late.

  “Ah, so Peter has been telling tales?” His lip curled. “I can’t believe he would.”

  “Perhaps he felt I should know. But what else could have been so terrible in your past that you will not share it?”

  He just kept staring at her with that cold expression.

  Unease knotted tighter and tighter in her stomach. She placed a hand over it. But her nervousness only increased until a short, hitching laugh escaped her. “Surely you’re not going to tell me you’re a mad murderer?”

  His eyes widened and he paled a shade or two.

  A real shock of fear jolted into her heart, quickening the
rush of her blood in her ears.

  Fear of him.

  Oh God, she’d been correct to assume there was something so dreadful, not just that had happened to him—but something he had done. She had not previously allowed herself to believe such a thing were possible.

  No, but it couldn’t be possible.

  But then, why couldn’t he tell her?

  Silly girl, you don’t know him. You never did!

  She felt the blood drain from her face and, feeling a little giddy, she stepped back.

  He went completely white then turned away from her.

  A raw aching settled into her throat. She placed her hand to her collarbone, watched him pull on his dressing gown and go to pour himself a whiskey. He walked to the window then stood drinking and staring out at the night.

  No matter who he was or what he’d done, he hurt and so she hurt. But he didn’t want her comfort. He’d never been completely open with her. Never wished to be.

  Now he wanted to be done with her and to forget all about her.

  She could hide from the truth no longer. He had spoken correctly.

  Their love was dying. Dead. This was the end.

  ****

  “Is it really over then?”

  At Peter’s question, Emily nodded, her eyes remaining transfixed by the swaying oak branches out of the window of the schoolroom in Mrs. Hazelwood’s house.

  Two days had passed since that awful night in Alex’s bedchamber.

  “You couldn’t try harder to understand him?” Peter asked with a concerned frown.

  “Oh, I understand him too well already, and as for Alex… He wants things the way they are too. He says he cannot live with a wife who holds him in contempt.”

  “Contempt? Do you really hold him in contempt?”

  She shrugged. “Certain aspects of his life, yes, I suppose I do.”

  Peter knelt beside the window seat. He let his breath out slowly. Then he took her hand. “I saw her too—and, Emily, he must have a good reason. You know he would have. He’s not a heartless wretch.”

  Then why hadn’t he shared his reasons with her? His true reasons. Why hadn’t he trusted her? “I don’t wish to speak of it. It’s more than just that.”

  “Of course… but you’re certain things are over with him?”

  “Oh, yes.“ She took a deep breath. “Forever.”

  “Peter! Peter!”

  The piping cry made Emily raise her head. Elizabeth McConnell, the child of Mrs. Hazelwood’s deceased housemaid, came running straight for them. The sight of the angelic-faced child was a welcome distraction from her discomforting thoughts. A smile forced itself across Emily’s face.

  Peter turned and held out his arms and the child launched herself at him, her pale silver-gilt curls bouncing. It was an unspoken yet open secret that Peter was this child’s real father. Her mother’s husband had disowned her but, thankfully, Mrs. Hazelwood had offered the little girl a place in her home.

  How did men spread their seed so carelessly? It made no sense to Emily for, from the look on Peter’s face, it was clear that he adored the impish little chit. Since she had no claim on him, Emily had no right to pry into his private life by asking how he could continue to allow this precious child to be raised as a waif in Mrs. Hazelwood’s servant chambers in the attic.

  After a moment, Elizabeth pushed away from the father she wasn’t even allowed to claim and turned to Emily. “I made this for you.”

  She handed Emily a piece of paper with multi-colored chicken scratches all over it.

  “Very beautiful,” Emily said with a smile.

  Elizabeth climbed into her lap, all elbows and heels. Emily gasped in pain as several soft spots were abused. Finally, she was able to settle the child. She looked up at Peter and smiled.

  His eyes softened and he grinned. “She likes you.”

  “I like her, too,” Emily replied, running a straightening hand over the rumpled curls.

  There was one of those pauses where tension seemed to build from nowhere.

  “Emily, what shall you do now?” His look changed—became all fiery, and so intense it seemed to burn into her.

  She had to pause to collect her thoughts. “I have my job here. I plan to take art instruction.”

  “What if I paid court to you, Emily? Would you receive me?”

  Shock paralyzed her. Even though Alex had warned her, she’d never really expected this. Well, the answer must be no, for many reasons, but the greatest of them squirmed in her lap.

  “Surely you must have expected this,” he said, as if he’d read her mind.

  “No,” she admitted artlessly.

  “I favor you very much; in fact, I have become quite infatuated with you. I am sure it could grow to be more.” He touched his fingertip to Elizabeth’s nose, a fond, casual gesture that belied the seriousness in his sky-blue eyes. “And you could learn to feel affection for me.”

  She couldn’t possibly respond.

  Peter turned his attention to Elizabeth. “Betsy, why don’t you go and fetch us some of those ginger biscuits from the kitchen?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes went huge and she sat straight up in Emily’s lap. “Ginger biscuits!” the child lisped.

  Peter grinned and smoothed her silver-gilt curls. “Yes, I saw her putting them in the oven earlier but you had better hurry. George might eat them all.”

  George was Mrs. Hazelwood’s driver.

  “Nooo!” Elizabeth cried, jettisoning herself from Emily’s lap.

  Peter laughed as he watched her scurry to the door and leave. Then he turned back to Emily and his expression sobered.

  “You could accept Elizabeth into our home?” Beneath the lightness of his tone, uncertainty resonated. “That is, if we were ever to be wed.”

  She nodded, her mind numb with the import of that. He wanted to claim his child? Yes, he’d just said so. In fact, he’d said doing so hinged on her accepting his proposal. Good Lord. The weight of it threatened to crush her. She liked him very much. She had enjoyed being sexual with him. But she wasn’t sure she could ever love him. Not like a wife must. Completely with devotion. Forever.

  “I must be honest with you. Alice McConnell was Betsy’s mother.” He took a deep breath.

  “Alex’s mistress…the one who—”

  “Our mistress.” Peter’s faint smile appeared to quiver uneasily.

  “Yours first,” she said, unable to think of anything else to say yet feeling the need to cover the tension with words.

  “Yes, mine first. The truth is, she was a simple woman. A common woman. Sexually frustrated and un-awakened. The first time was a pure accident on my part, I was delirious with a fever. But afterwards, I systematically debauched her. There’s no other word for it and I would be completely honest with you. I spoiled her with luxury she’d never known. It amused me to do so. She was so childlike in her artless pleasure. But it was such a change from the life she had known, it ruined her. The sin was mine but Alex took the blame.”

  “Oh,” she replied, unable to process anything further. The intimacy of such revelations made her more apprehensive than ever.

  What was he playing at here?

  “I have other children from my first marriage. A son and two daughters. They are older. They won’t be a trouble to you.”

  The impact of what he was proposing hit her and Emily caught her breath. To provide this charming, lovely child a connection to her real father and her half-siblings. A place to truly belong. An almost instant family.

  It was a seductive scenario. What woman with a heart wouldn’t pause and consider it?

  It would be a priceless sacrifice for Emily to make. Was all-consuming love so important? Could she possibly be so self-sacrificing for the sake of a child? She felt as though Peter had just tied a sack of ballast about her neck.

  She didn’t want to have to sacrifice herself for anyone. At least not yet.

  “I must have time to think on this… It is just… I am sorry.”
/>
  A pleasant smile graced his sensual mouth but his eyes remained serious. “Nothing to be sorry for. Of course you must have time. I’ll be going home to New York after the vote on the Naval Bill is over. But I could return if you wish. We can correspond in the meantime. We can learn all about each other through our letters.”

  “Yes, I would like that.” She wasn’t sure if she would or not but it seemed like the thing to say.

  ****

  “I don’t blame you for giving Alex the bag.”

  Emily focused on sipping her hot chocolate. Another of Alex’s cousins, Nancy had come to visit her and they were sitting in Mrs. Hazelwood’s kitchen. Raven-haired like Rachel, Nancy was tall and thin as a reed. She had taken time to warm to Emily but now they were friendly. Yet Emily wished she would let the subject of Alex drop.

  She turned to Nancy. “I didn’t know you were aware of our engagement.”

  “I wasn’t for certain until this moment.” Nancy grinned and pushed her spectacles back up her long, thin nose.

  Emily was mortified at her slip. “Please don’t tell anyone else. It is bad enough to have things end like this.”

  “Oh, listen, why do you think I am not married? Gentlemen are prone to sin and I won’t have it in my life. I won’t have some man telling me how I must live while he does whatever he pleases.” Nancy raised her cup to her lips and took a drink then set it down. “Mama is all smiles and pretend blindness. We must not admit that which is right under our noses.”

  “How can she possibly deny it?” Emily asked.

  Nancy shrugged. “That which one denies is not true. Look at how Cornelia acts with Peter’s Betsy. Yes, insane, I know, but there you are.” Then Nancy smiled and slapped the table smartly. “We shall have to go shopping for you.”

  “Shopping for me?”

  “Yes, when this Naval Bill finally passes, James will be sure to throw a lavish ball. You will need a new ball gown. Something utterly French and fashionable. You have just the figure for the new styles.”

  “I don’t think James will want to invite me.”

  “He won’t have a choice. Mama will not see you shunned, never fear.” Nancy’s face grew a little sad. “Poor Mama, she had begun to have such hopes for you and Alex.”

  “I didn’t think she approved of me.”