Some Like It Wicked (Hellion's Den)

by Ivy, Alexandra

  Anna offered a distinctly mysterious smile. “And how can you be so certain that Hellion cannot offer these things?”

  “Hellion?” Jane briefly wondered if Anna had been sneaking into the brandy. Or perhaps she had simply been spending too much time in the company of Lord Bidwell. Something had certainly turned her shrewd wits to mush. “The man is a creature of London. He would be miserable stuck in the midst of the country with nothing more to tempt his fancy than a handful of dull assemblies, or worse, remaining home with his plain, tedious wife and children. How long do you think it would be before he became bored beyond bearing? Before he returned to town and his more pleasing entertainments?”

  “Jane.” Anna squeezed her arm once again. “You have judged him without allowing him to reveal what he desires in a marriage with you. How can you not be certain he has not wearied of his life as a rake and rogue? Or that he might inwardly long for a family? Should you not at least give him the opportunity to prove whether he is his willing to be the sort of husband you wish?”

  A sharp, poignant memory of Hellion speaking of his parents rose to mind. There had been no mistaking the aching loss he had experienced. And the pain of being forced to reside with an uncle who shamed him. For that moment she had sensed the deep loneliness within him. A loneliness that was echoed within her own heart.

  Was it possible that he did seek to discover someone he could share his life with? That he could put aside his enjoyment of exotic mistresses and gambling clubs to settle into a mundane existence as husband and father?

  It seemed utterly nonsensical. Rather like expecting a dangerous, predatory panther to be trained as a house cat.

  A shiver raced down her spine.

  She had told the truth. She had come to London for a safe, comfortable, quietly dependable husband. How foolish would it be to instead return home with a dashing, restless, utterly gorgeous rogue?

  Foolish. Very, very foolish, a dark voice warned in the back of her mind.

  But . . . ah, so tempting.

  Realizing that her friend was regarding her with growing concern, Jane gave a faint shake of her head.

  “It is not so simple, Anna.”

  “Nothing ever is.” She offered a faint smile. “All I am suggesting is that you offer him the opportunity to court you. What can be the harm? If you decide you do not suit then you can decline his proposal. In the meantime why not enjoy being wooed by a true expert?”

  Jane discovered herself without an answer.

  She was quite certain that there was a great deal of harm that Hellion could wreak in her quiet, sensible life. But annoyingly it was impossible to pinpoint the exact source of her vague fears.

  Instead she once again recalled the guarded vulnerability she had glimpsed within those wicked eyes.

  “I do not know, Anna,” she murmured uncertainly, her heart whispering with unease.

  “Just give it some thought before you do anything you might later regret.”

  “You intend to wed the chit?”

  Hellion could not hide his grin as he watched the end of Biddles’s nose twitch in unmistakable shock. He had known when he had decided to seek his friend’s help that his announcement would cause something of a scandal. He was after all renowned for his allergy to intimate relationships. Especially those that might be permanent.

  But after watching his intended flee from his marriage proposal as if the devil were upon her heels last evening, he had known that he needed advice.

  Advice . . . he heaved a rueful sigh.

  It was ridiculous, of course.

  Gads, he had seduced a countless number of women over the years. He knew precisely the intricate steps of the delicious waltz.

  The first knowing glances. The casual brush of fingers. The deliberate encounters. The kiss. The intimate caress. And at last the fulfillment of the passions that had been stirred to aching life.

  Even more importantly he understood the small details demanded by such a seduction.

  Sending flowers in her favorite color. Indulging her love for pretty baubles. Remembering the first moment they met or her birthday. And of course, showering her with the unwavering attention that assured the woman that his entire soul was focused upon her alone.

  Thus he was the consummate rake.

  But for once in his life, Hellion was forced to acknowledge that all his well-honed skills were going to be tested to the limit when dealing with a young woman.

  Jane . . .

  His stubborn, independent, stoically practical Jane had no interest in the frivolous games of romance. She might accept his flowers, but she preferred to view them in the garden. She disdained baubles. And as for his unwavering attention . . . well, he could not deny that she would just as soon be closeted with her damnable man of business as to be receiving compliments from him.

  And while he was confident that she desired him, she was not about to allow her passions to rule her heart.

  It was enough to make a hardened rogue take to the bottle.

  “Yes, I intend to wed her,” he retorted in firm tones, leaning back in the comfortable sofa with his legs stretched before him.

  “Good Lord.” With swift motions Biddles was at the heavy sideboard to pour a large measure of brandy. Only when he had swallowed the lot in one gulp did he turn back to regard Hellion with a glittering gaze. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Dammit, man. Why has the most notorious bachelor in all of England suddenly decided to toss aside his joyous existence to join the dull ranks of pathetic drudges?”

  Expecting a pang of regret at the accusation, Hellion was startled to discover nothing more than vague amusement at his friend’s obvious disbelief.

  “Because I met Miss Jane Middleton,” he answered simply.

  “That is your reason?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is she with child?”

  Hellion’s smile abruptly vanished. Perhaps it was because of the scowl that darkened his countenance.

  “No, she is damn well not with child,” Hellion growled, unreasonably annoyed by the question. “And I warn you that the next slur you make upon my intended bride will be the last you make with a full set of teeth.”

  There was a moment of silence as Biddles carefully scrutinized his forbidding frown, and then quite inexplicably the sly rascal tilted back his head to laugh with a rich enjoyment.

  “Yes, I see,” he at last murmured, moving to settle upon a plush velvet chair, his amusement still visible upon the thin countenance.

  “What do you see?”

  “Either a miracle or a tragedy. Time will tell.” He leaned back with a faint smile. “Now, tell me why you came to see me this morning. Surely it was not merely to receive my best wishes for your upcoming nuptials?”

  Hellion forced his stiff muscles to relax. Perhaps it was understandable that his friend was somewhat rattled, he told himself. Hell, he was rattled. And he did need assistance, as much as it rubbed his pride to admit it.

  “Actually your best wishes would be rather premature,” he grudgingly conceded. “She has not yet agreed.”

  “Fah.” Biddles lifted an elegant hand. “A mere technicality. You cannot suppose she would be daft enough to refuse your suit, do you?”

  Hellion gave a humorless chuckle. “Without hesitation. Miss Middleton has a mind of her own and is not at all impressed by the knowledge I am considered an enviable catch among the Ton. Indeed, I believe that it is one of the reasons that she hesitates to accept the sincerity of my offer. She cannot accept that I would truly desire her as my wife.”

  “A mind of her own, eh? That could prove a problem,” Biddles acknowledged wryly. “I have lately discovered women with their own minds can be shockingly difficult to train to the leash.”

  Hellion gave a lift of one brow. “You have discovered? My dear Biddles, whatever do you mean?”

  Startled, the sly gentleman gave a discomfited cough at the blunt question. “Nothing more than a passing acqu
aintance with such a female. Thankfully we are discussing you and your troubles this morning. Tell me of your plans to win Miss Middleton’s agreement to your proposal.”

  Hellion resisted the urge to torment his friend. It would be a delight to discover precisely who this mystery woman was who had put him in such a twit. That would have to wait until later, however. When he could fully enjoy the pleasure of watching Biddles squirm.

  “I haven’t a plan,” he admitted with a hint of frustration. “Unfortunately, I am discovering that there is a considerable difference between seducing a woman and courting an innocent maiden. Especially a maiden who has no interest in the usual flirtations.”

  Biddles templed his fingers beneath his chin. “You are certain she is so opposed to flirtations?”

  Hellion smiled dryly. “Well, she certainly is in no danger of being overwhelmed by my brilliantly pathetic attempts.”

  “That was when she thought your attentions were merely a ruse that she had bought and paid for. She would have been a fool to be swayed by your charm before you announced your intention to wed.”

  Hellion was not so easily convinced. “She did not seem any more amenable to my charms even after I proposed. In truth she fled from me as if she feared I might carry the plague.”

  “Well, you can hardly blame her. No doubt she was somewhat caught off guard by your offer,” Biddles soothed, his lips twisting. “God knows I was.”

  Hellion frowned as he pondered the explanation. It was true enough that he had taken Jane by surprise. Hell’s fire, she had been shocked to the tips of her tiny toes.

  “Perhaps.” His fingers tapped an impatient tattoo upon the arm of the sofa. He did not like this feeling of uncertainty. It was not at all what he was accustomed to. “So you believe she will welcome my attentions once she accepts that I am in earnest?”

  Biddles offered a faint shrug. “Unfortunately that is impossible to say. Miss Middleton does not seem to be the type to give her heart lightly. Especially not to a seasoned rake.”

  “Well, that is a bloody lot of help,” Hellion muttered in exasperation. “Do you suppose I should toss her over my shoulder and haul her to Gretna Green?”

  A decided amusement tugged at his companion’s lips. “I do not believe such a drastic action is called for. At least not yet.”

  “Then what the hell am I to do?”

  “Romance her.”

  Hellion blinked in bewilderment. “What?”

  “Every young woman dreams of romance,” Biddles patiently explained.

  “Not Jane,” Hellion retorted in stubborn tones. “She is far too wary to allow herself to be seduced. I will have to win her trust before I can bed her.”

  Biddles gave a click of his tongue. “I did not mean to seduce her. Or at least, not exactly.”

  “Then what the devil do you mean?”

  “I mean that you must offer her romance, not the shallow flirtations that the more sophisticated women enjoy.”

  Hellion abruptly grimaced. “Gads, you cannot mean spouting hideous poetry and kneeling at her feet like a besotted fool? I could not bear it. Not to mention the fact that Jane would have me committed to Bedlam.”

  “I mean considering how best to please her. Discover what she enjoys, what makes her laugh or stirs her emotions. And of course you must be unpredictable. Shower her with surprises until she does not know what to expect from one moment to the other.” A sudden gleam entered the pale eyes. “If nothing else such things will keep her off guard until you can lure her into your bed.”

  Despite his uncertainty that such tactics would sway his utterly sensible Jane, Hellion gave a slow nod. He supposed it was worth a try.

  And if it didn’t work, then he would reconsider the notion of Gretna Green.

  Or perhaps taking her to his bed and not letting her out until she admitted he was the only gentleman who could bring her happiness.

  “Very well. Let us decide precisely how I am to romance Miss Middleton into my arms and up the nearest aisle.”

  It was three days later when Hellion was at last prepared to approach his reluctant bride. Attired in a striking blue coat and pale breeches he called for his tilbury and matching grays. From there it was only a short drive to Jane’s tidy town house.

  Leaving his groom to walk the restless horses, Hellion vaulted up the steps and offered a ready smile for the butler who held open the door.

  “Good day, Reeves. I presume Miss Middleton is at home?”

  The elderly servant offered a regretful shake of his head. “I fear not, sir. She left quite early to take a stroll through the nearby park. She should be returning at any moment if you would care to wait.”

  A sudden smile curved Hellion’s lips. He had realized that the most difficult part of his scheme would be luring Jane from the protection of her home. She could be extraordinarily stubborn when she desired. And while he was quite willing to simply toss her over his shoulder and carry her out, if worse came to worse, he preferred not to start off their journey with her temper in full fury. He was, after all, intent on romance.

  Thankfully it appeared such pirate tactics would not be needed. She had readily left herself available to be swept off her feet.

  Now, he just had to track her down so he could start his sweeping.

  With an impatient lift of his hand he had his groom hurrying back to the curb and within moments Hellion was bowling down the road toward the small park. He had just reached the gates when he spied the familiar slender form in a plain gray gown and straw bonnet walking briskly in his direction. With a pleasurable tingle of antici-pation he pulled the carriage to a halt and watched her approach.

  Not yet aware of his arrival Jane continued down the path with her head lowered as if in deep thought. Hellion leaned back upon the leather seat with a flare of amusement.

  Gads, but she appeared a dowd, he acknowledged with a low chuckle. The dull gray of her gown did nothing to compliment the dusky skin or the lovely blue eyes. And no lady of style would be caught dead in a bonnet that would have been more fitting for a milkmaid.

  Still, he could not deny the intense pleasure that filled him at the sight of her. Not just a sensual awareness, although he ached for her with a desperation that was nearly frightening, but more an odd warmth that seemed to ease the restlessness that constantly plagued him.

  This woman offered what no other woman had ever offered.

  A peace and deep sense of security that he had not even realized he longed for.

  Unaware of the glow of contentment that smoldered in his dark eyes, Hellion waited for his soon-to-be-wife to reach the gates. Then, with the swift grace of a hunting panther he was leaping from the carriage and moving silently to place his large form directly in her path.

  With her head still lowered Jane had no warning of his sudden approach. Not until she was within touching distance did she abruptly come to a halt. Then, as if already sensing who stood before her, she slowly lifted her head.

  “Good day, my sweet,” he murmured.

  “Hellion.” An expression of sweet longing, or at least what he convinced himself was sweet longing, briefly rippled over the gamine countenance before the staunch composure was wrestled back into place. “What are you doing here?”

  His lips twitched at the question. From any other woman he would presume she was being deliberately coy. Jane, however, was never coy.

  “Seeking you, of course.”

  “Oh.” She folded her hands together, as if to hide her unease. “Why?”

  Instinctively his hand lifted to gently touch the amazing softness of her cheek. At the same moment he leaned just close enough to catch the intoxicating scent of sweet spring that clung to her skin.

  “It seems to have become rather a habit lately,” he murmured, his gaze drifting toward those soft lips that had become a nightly torment in his dreams. Soon, he told his frustrated body. Soon those lips would be performing every erotic fantasy he had ever harbored. “I do hope you are not so el
usive once we are wed. I prefer the thought of us comfortably settled in each others’ arms before a warm fire to dashing through the neighborhood in pursuit of my wife.”

  He heard her breath catch before she was forcing herself to regard him with a stern gaze of disapproval.

  “I have said nothing to indicate that I am willing to be your wife, sir.”

  Hellion merely shrugged. “But you will. It is inevitable.”

  “Nothing is inevitable.” The finely arched brows rose in a silent reprimand. “Especially when it comes to my future husband.”

  He countered the stern words with a deliberately bland smile. “If it comforts you to believe so, my sweet.”

  An exasperated sigh hissed through her clenched teeth. “Saints give me patience. You truly are . . .”

  “Arrogant? Impossible? Utterly enchanting?” he helpfully supplied.

  The blue eyes flashed, but the irrepressible sense of humor that was such a part of her charm curved her lips in a reluctant smile.

  “Utterly daft.”

  “Perhaps.” He lowered his gaze as his fingers lightly drifted to stroke over the maddening lips. A foolish mistake. His randy passions were instantly stirred as he easily imagined those lips pressed beneath his own. Or better yet, feeling them stroking down his throat and nibbling softly over his chest. Perhaps they would tease at his nipples before straying downward over the tense muscles of his stomach and then . . . damn, damn, damn. He abruptly cut off the persistent image before he became completely aroused. Why the devil did he continue to fantasize about those damnable lips? With an effort he returned his wicked thoughts to less dangerous terrain. “They claim that all gentlemen become incomprehensibly daft once in their life and that the only cure is marriage. You hold the return of my sanity in your delicate hands, my dear.”

  Jane appeared oddly flustered by his soft words. “I . . . Why did you wish to see me?”

  “Ah.” He regarded her with a mysterious smile. “I have a surprise for you.”