“Perhaps boundaries is the wrong word. Rules might be a better term.”
“Rules?”
“No, rules isn’t right either.” She thought for a moment. “Expectations then.”
“Expectations,” he said cautiously. Good God, this was about to become very awkward.
“Yes, expectations.” She nodded firmly, rose to her feet, and paced the room. “To begin with, you should know that I do not take a man to my bed lightly.”
“That is good to know.” Although he had, in truth, known it already. Not from Helmsley but from the snippets of gossip about her he had heard through the years. Even disregarding the exaggeration inherent in gossip, he was fairly certain the number of lovers in Judith’s life since her husband’s death was not excessive. Not that it mattered. Still, one did like to know one was a member of an exclusive club.
“Did you think I did?” She glanced at him.
“Not for a moment,” he said staunchly and watched her move absently around the room. For a woman who exuded confidence, her demeanor now struck him as anything but confident. It was curious and most interesting.
“In the past”—she chose her words with care—“when a gentleman and I have come to this particular point—”
“Dinner?”
She ignored him. “There have always been significant preliminaries. We understood or perhaps established—”
“Boundaries,” he said helpfully.
“Yes.” She huffed. “Boundaries.” She clasped her hands together and stared at him. “However, we were discussing expectations.”
“Not rules?” He resisted the urge to smile.
“Expectations,” she said firmly.
“Expectations then.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Go on.”
“First of all, I expect a certain amount of honesty between us.”
“Only a certain amount? Not complete, utter, and unequivocal honesty?”
“Don’t be absurd. Men and women can never be completely honest with one another. It would take all the fun out of it.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” He chuckled. “A reasonable amount of honesty then.”
“There will come a time, be it a fortnight from now or six months or a year, when you will tire of our relationship, of me—”
“Never,” he said without thinking. Still, she was right. The affair they were embarking upon would end one day.
“Or I shall tire of you.”
He scoffed, “Also inconceivable.”
“When that happens, we are each free to go our separate ways without recrimination. In fact, I do hope we can remain friends.” She smiled in a pleasant manner.
“Friends?” He stared in disbelief. She was managing the end of their relationship before it had even begun. “Friends?”
“One can always use another friend.”
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
Her glance slid to the bed, then back to him. “As in this you mean…”
“Define boundaries,” he snapped. “Discuss expectations.”
“No.” She blew a long breath. “I haven’t. It’s never been necessary before.”
“And it’s necessary now?”
“Dear Lord, yes.” The slightest hint of confusion shone in her eyes. “I have never before leaped into bed with a man with the speed with which I have leaped with you.”
“To my undying gratitude.”
“I have always thought of myself as, well, civilized for want of a better word. And this, with you”—she gestured aimlessly—“is not the least bit civilized.”
“Again, to my undying gratitude.”
“It’s most disconcerting. Even frightening.” A frown creased her brow. “To have passion rule your senses, overpower your resistance, wreak havoc with coherent thought. Why, we scarcely know one another.”
“I agree.” He got to his feet. “It is disconcerting, although I should term it exhilarating more than frightening. And very much an adventure.” He stepped toward her. “As for scarcely knowing one another—”
“Do not come another step closer.” She thrust out her hand to stop him. “We need to talk and I cannot speak rationally if your very presence makes my knees weaken.”
He grinned but held his tongue.
“And do sit down. You’re much less…compelling when you sit.” She shuddered. “I never knew a man dressed only in his trousers and shirt could quite be so irresistible. I wish you had accepted my offer of an appropriate dressing gown.”
“I prefer to select my own dressing gowns, thank you.” He settled back in his chair, his grin widened. “You find me irresistible?”
“Yes.” She cast him a reluctant smile. “You wicked, wicked man, I do indeed.”
“Good. Is that it then?”
“Not quite. Now, in regard to marriage—”
“Marriage.” He sat upright. “Marriage?”
“You needn’t stare at me as if I were speaking a language you don’t understand.”
“Marriage is a language I don’t understand,” he said under his breath. “Judith, marriage is not—”
“Oh, do be quiet, Gideon, and hear me out.” She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Just because we have shared a bed does not mean we should be shackled together for the rest of our days.”
“It doesn’t”, he said slowly. Certainly he hadn’t thought it did, but one never knew what a woman, even a woman as free in spirit as Judith, thought about marriage in the wake of a passionate liaison.
“No, of course not. You should understand from the very beginning, before there are any further entanglements, that I have no desire to marry again. Ever.”
“You don’t?” Relief coursed through him, tinged with the oddest touch of regret.
“No.” She shook her head. “I see no reason to marry. I am financially in de pen dent. I have the companionship of good friends. I have the freedom and the wherewithal to do what I please and go where I wish. Why on earth would I sacrifice all that for marriage?”
“Why indeed,” he murmured.
“You, however, are an entirely different matter.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Am I?”
“You well know you are. You said it yourself, you are the last of your line. You must marry and produce an heir. I would wager, within the next few years you will find a sweet, nondemanding, pliable young thing of good family and equally good fortune who will make your domestic life pleasant and undemanding.”
“That sounds rather calculating.” A slight note of indignation sounded in his voice although—and he would never admit to her—that was exactly what he planned.
“Perhaps, but such is the way of the world we live in. Marriage is, and always has been, more for purposes of responsibility and duty than anything else. Therefore it’s only”—she thought for a moment—“practical to choose one’s match with the same care one makes any other type of permanent arrangement.”
“But what of affection?” he said without thinking. “Love? Passion?”
“Passion is fleeting. As for affection…” She stared at him curiously. “Am I wrong then? Do you wish to marry for love?”
“No, I suppose not. You have me there.” He met her gaze and heard the words fall from his lips before he could stop himself. “I did that once.”
She smiled slowly. “As did I.”
Again he got to his feet. “And doing so has convinced you never to marry again?”
“I see no need to do so.” She shrugged. “I believe one’s fate is preordained. One’s destiny is determined from birth. I believe as well that each of us is meant for one person and one person only. Soul mates, if you will.”
“And you married your soul mate?”
Did he imagine it or was there a hesitation so slight it might have been nothing more than a breath before she nodded firmly. “I did. Did you?”
“I thought so at the time.” He shook his head in a wry manner. “But then I was something of an idiot at the
time as well.”
“An admission about the past?” She raised a brow. “Now I really am shocked.”
“As well you should be.” He moved to her and took her into his arms. “Although it seems only fair since you have revealed so much about yourself.”
“Have I?” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “What precisely have I revealed?”
“A practical side of your nature even regarding presents and passion. A desire for adventure. A belief in fate, destiny. And best of all”—he gazed into her eyes and smiled—“you find me irresistible.”
“Did I say that?” she murmured.
“You did indeed.” He scooped her up and carried her toward the bed. “I make your knees weak.”
“Oh, surely I didn’t tell you that.” Her finger trailed lightly across the back of his neck, and desire rose within him.
“Oh, surely you did.” He dropped her on the bed in a heap of pink frills and ruffles, looking every bit as delicious as a decadent dessert.
She propped herself up on her elbows and watched him. “My knees are quite strong at the moment.”
He drew his shirt up over his head and tossed it aside. “I doubt that.”
“And I don’t find you the least bit irresistible.” The breathless note in her voice and the look in her eyes belied her words.
He unbuttoned his trousers and dropped them to the floor. Her gaze slipped down his body to his erection, and a distinct blush tinged her cheeks. He grinned. “I don’t believe that either.”
He moved to the bed, reached out, and slowly pulled free the sash that held the confection she wore closed. Her breathing quickened and she sank back on the bed. He opened the gown, and she lay exposed before him. He trailed his hands lightly over her breasts, and her nipples hardened at his touch. He ran his fingers over her stomach. She sucked in a hard breath. He continued lower and ran his hand between her legs and smiled. She was as ready for him as he was for her.
He straightened abruptly and heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Well, if I’m not irresistible and your knees are fine, you obviously don’t want—”
She grabbed his hand, pulled him down on the bed, and wrapped herself around him. “Did I mention that you are a wicked man?”
“I believe you may have.” He pulled her closer, and they tangled together in the ruffles and lace and the heat of needy bodies.
“It bears repeating.” She arched into him, and her breasts crushed against his chest.
“Judith,” he murmured against her neck. “How does one recognize one’s soul mate?”
“Le coup de foudre,” she whispered and entwined her leg around his.
“Le coup de foudre,” he repeated under his breath. It had an erotic ring to it, but then anything whispered into his ear right now would have an erotic ring. Especially anything French. He knew the language fairly well but his mind simply couldn’t translate at the moment. Nor did he care.
He buried his mouth in the soft, sweet curve between her neck and her shoulder. Had a woman ever tasted quite so delicious? Had a man ever wanted a woman more? Had two bodies ever fit together so perfectly, as if one was meant only for the other?
In the last rational moment before passion claimed his senses completely and he knew nothing more than the feel of her body against his and the need for her and her alone welling within him, he realized the meaning of le coup de foudre.
Bolt of lightning.
Chapter 4
“Y ou and Warton? Warton?” Susanna stared at Judith as if she had sprouted feathers and a tail right there in Susanna’s own drawing room. “Good God, Judith, are you insane?”
“I could be, I suppose, but I don’t think so.”
“What ever are you thinking?”
“I’m not sure I am thinking.” Judith gestured aimlessly. “And must say I like not thinking for a change.”
“Not thinking?” Susanna groaned and rose to her feet. “Oh, that’s bad, that’s very bad.” She crossed the room, opened the doors of a tall chinoise cabinet, grabbed a decanter, and returned to her chair. “I’ve never known you not to think in matters of this nature. You always give these things a great deal of thought before you—”
“Leap?” Judith said brightly.
“Leap?” Susanna plopped into her chair. “You never leap.”
Judith bit back a laugh. “Well, I have leaped this time and I must say I am finding it a great deal of fun.”
“Fun?” Susanna shuddered.
“Will you be repeating every word I say in this manner?”
“Yes. And probably every word I say as well,” Susanna snapped. “Oh, this is bad.” She leaned forward and poured a healthy dollop of what ever was in the decanter into her cup of tea and did the same to Judith’s. Susanna firmly believed any kind of problem called for spirits. One could determine how seriously Susanna viewed a situation by the strength of the alcohol she poured into her teacup. Cordials were for minor dilemmas, brandy for something more serious, and whisky, either Scottish or Irish, was required for a true crisis. “This is very, very bad.” Judith wagered this decanter held whisky, and no doubt Susanna’s best.
“Nonsense.” Judith took a cautious sip, confirming her suspicions and noting as well the warming quality of the excellent liquor. “I don’t see anything bad about it at all.”
“I don’t see anything good about it.”
“Why on earth not? Warton is charming and attractive but really not terribly different from any other man.” Even as she said the words, Judith realized they were a lie. Gideon was unlike any man she’d ever known.
“And that is precisely the problem. Or at least part of it.” Susanna took a long, fortifying sip of her tea. “Like any man in his position, Warton needs to marry. He, and every other idiot man with wealth and a title in this country, wants a simpering virgin he can mold to be the perfect, undemanding sort of wife that you, my dear, were once but could never be again.”
“Excellent, as I am not interested in marriage with Warton or anyone else.”
“So you claim.”
Judith widened her eyes in indignation. “How can you say such a thing? You of all people should know I have no intention of ever marrying again.”
Susanna snorted. “It’s easy to declare one’s disinterest in remarriage when one has never found a man worth marrying.”
“Warton is not—”
“Judith.” Susanna leaned forward. “The danger lies not with Warton but with you. I fear for your heart.”
“My heart?” Judith laughed. “My heart is not the least bit at risk.”
“I have never seen you fall into a man’s bed this quickly. Why, you scarcely know him.”
“I know him better now,” Judith murmured.
“You’ve had what? Three lovers since Lucian died? Four if you count Lord Lovett.” Susanna frowned. “Do you count Lord Lovett?”
“That depends on what I’m counting for. In the strictest definition, Lovett would not be included on the list.”
“There was that unforeseen problem of the wife that no one knew he had.” Susanna shook her head in annoyance. “I do hate it when that happens.”
“It was regrettable.” Judith let her mind drift back over the handsome blond-haired viscount with the laughing eyes. She was eternally grateful she had learned of his marital state before she had joined him in his bed. Judith had known of far too many women through the years devastated by their husband’s infidelities to ever be the woman who caused such unhappiness. “We could have had a lovely time. He was quite charming, you know.”
“As is Warton apparently, although I certainly can’t see it.”
Judith stared at her friend. “Surely you must admit he’s extremely handsome with his dark hair and his darker yet eyes. Add to that his cynical air and the knowing way he looks at you, why, you’re lucky your knees don’t collapse beneath you when you gaze into those eyes and he smiles that delicious wicked smile.”
“Dear Lord,” Susanna muttered.
>
“He’s tall—”
“You’re short. Everyone is tall to you.”
“His shoulders are nicely broad…” At once she remembered the feel of the hard planes of his chest against hers. The sculpted muscles of his buttocks under her fingers. The feel of him inside her…
“Yes, yes, he’s attractive enough.” Susanna waved off Judith’s comment. “But he’s not right for you.”
“You sound as if I am planning on spending the rest of my days with him. I’m not. This is a temporary arrangement. But do tell.” Judith heaved a long-suffering sigh. “What, aside from the fact that he will be seeking a wife at some point, makes him wrong for me?”
“You always choose men who are amusing and entertaining. Like Lord Helmsley. They are…” She thought for a moment. “Safe, at least in terms of emotional entanglements, because you do not take them the least bit seriously. I’ve watched you, Judith, and while the gentlemen in question never seem to realize it, you are always the one calling the tune.”
It was true, and Judith had realized it years ago. Still, it was one thing to admit one’s controlling nature to oneself and quite another to admit it aloud. “What does that have to do with Lord Warton?”
“Lord Warton is aloof, cold, superior. Arrogant.” Susanna wrinkled her nose. “Sarcastic. Overly serious.”
Judith stared. “How can you say that? You know nothing about him.”
“I most certainly do. I don’t know him personally but…” She sniffed. “When one has the number of brothers and sisters I do, one hears a great deal about a great many people.”
“Do you know about his marriage then?” Judith asked in a casual manner that belied the importance of the question.
“I know he was married for no more than a day. An elopement I believe.” Susanna thought for a moment. “It was a long time ago, a decade or so I think. It was all kept very quiet. If I recall correctly the girl involved was already engaged to someone else. She and Lord Warton ran off but were found almost immediately after the ceremony, which was annulled at once. The girl then married her fiancé.” Susanna paused. “Her name eludes me at the moment.”
“And?”
“And that’s all I remember except it seems to me his behavior for a while afterward was quite scandalous.”
A Little Bit Wicked Page 6