Some Like It Wicked (Hellion's Den)

by Ivy, Alexandra

“Oh yes . . . quite.” He gave a sudden cough. “I do know how important your business dealings are to you.”

  Her heart melted a little more.

  “No gentleman beyond my father would have ever thought of such a thing.”

  His smile returned, although it was faintly strained. “I consider myself in fine company then. I cannot imagine anyone I would be more proud to be compared to than your father.”

  Jane gave a soft gasp at the sweet words, and then barely aware of what she was doing, she shifted forward to press her lips to the smooth skin of his cheek.

  Perhaps there was more to this gentleman than she had been willing to give him credit for.

  “Thank you, Hellion,” she whispered softly.

  It had been a spontaneous gesture, without thought to the fierce chaos the merest touch could create within her. She was duly reminded of the danger when a swift, shocking jolt raced from her lips to the center of her stomach. Caught off guard she was hurriedly pulling away, only to be halted when a pair of steely arms wrapped about her to hold her firmly against the unyielding male form.

  “Oh no,” he murmured close to her ear. “I have waited too long to have you kiss me of your own accord to allow you to shy away so swiftly.”

  Jane could not halt the shudder of pleasure that raced through her at his touch.

  “Hellion.”

  His mouth gently brushed her temple. “You have no notion, do you?”

  “No notion of what?” she whispered.

  “How desperately I long to feel your lips upon me.”

  Her fingers instinctively grasped the lapel of his moss green coat. It would take very little effort to imagine the warm silk of his skin as she slid her mouth over the strong jaw that was faintly rasped with his dark whiskers. And down the column of his neck to linger upon the beat of his pulse . . .

  Oh my. She shifted uneasily, aware of a heat beginning to simmer where no heat should ever be.

  “You are being absurd.”

  “That is what I tell myself,” he murmured in distracted tones. “A gentleman of my age and experience should not be aching in his bed at night like a schoolboy in his first flush of passion. Nor should he harbor such wicked thoughts of what he would do if he should chance to have your slender, delectable body beneath him . . .”

  “Are you wanting your horses stabled, sir?”

  The male voice intruded into the magical moment, sharply reminding Jane that she was seated in full view of dozens of passing servants and guests. A fact she had astonishingly forgotten.

  At the same moment Hellion pulled back with a surprising heat flaring upon his high cheekbones.

  “Damn.” He gave a faint shake of his head. “Absurd, indeed. I fear we shall have to continue this . . . delicious conversation later.”

  Later? Jane licked her desperately dry lips. That, she was quite certain, was a very bad notion.

  Hellion smiled with wry amusement.

  Gads, what had happened?

  It had all started out well enough. Jane had proven to be a willing companion as he had whisked her from London. Not only willing, but unusually vulnerable as she had spoken of her family and home.

  And even when he had pulled to a halt at the Fox and Grapes she had not balked. Instead she had regarded him with such a bemused and delighted expression he had felt his heart swell with hope.

  At that moment he was confident that he had schemed the perfect romantic afternoon.

  A ride through the charming countryside. A private parlor at a lovely inn, where they could share an intimate luncheon. And in his pocket a golden locket with a golden curl he had cut from his hair.

  What could possibly be more romantic? Surely Jane was utterly bewitched?

  But of course, despite all his careful planning and scheming, the minx had managed to confound him.

  She always managed to confound him.

  Thank goodness he had enough wits about him to prevent a disaster, he told himself wryly. With a swift skill he had left Jane in the foyer and demanded that the innkeep be brought to him. The proprietor was well enough acquainted with nobles and their peculiar habits, and with a few low words, and a discrete bribe, he managed to ensure a quick tour before they were led upstairs to the private rooms he had requested.

  Or at least what was intended to be a quick tour.

  Trailing behind a vivacious Jane and as equally animated innkeep, Hellion realized that he had been thoroughly forgotten.

  Not an easy admission for a gentleman accustomed to creating a stir of excitement and interest by merely walking into a room. Gads, he could not recall a moment when he felt as if he were no more than shadow without substance. And never in the company of a young, unwed chit.

  How often had he bemoaned the hordes of débutantes who tossed themselves in his path? Or the numerous widows who schemed to entrap him into marriage?

  Now he realized that he had always taken his undoubted effect upon the opposite sex for granted. Perhaps he had even felt it his due.

  And thank goodness for such arrogance, he wryly acknowledged. Were he a gentleman of lesser self-assurance he might have been offended by his fiancée’s seeming indifference. As it was, Hellion determinedly thrust aside his wounded male pride.

  This moment was for Jane, he sternly reminded himself. He would soon enough have ample opportunity to claim her undivided attention. An entire lifetime.

  Besides which, he could not deny a measure of enjoyment in simply watching her as she scurried about the crowded inn.

  Gone was the stiff, rather awkward female that clung to the edges of the ballrooms. And even the uncertain lover who fluttered at every compliment.

  In her stead was a commanding, nearly overwhelming force who moved through her surroundings with the encompassing absorption of a general surveying his battlefield.

  This was a vision of Jane he had never been privileged to share before and Hellion discovered himself watching her in fascination.

  There was a brisk competency to her manner that demanded the respect of all, from the innkeep to the chambermaids. And a smooth charm that eased any awkwardness in speaking with a woman of what were essentially considered male interests.

  Even more fascinating was the undoubted glow of enthusiasm that added a sparkling beauty to her frail features.

  Studying her countenance as she shrewdly questioned the cook on everything from the cost of potatoes to the best means of storing flour, he covertly noted the shimmer in her wide eyes and faint color upon her cheeks.

  A startling flare of heat seared through his body.

  This was how she would look when she was laid beneath him, the voice of the devil whispered. Her face would be flushed with passion and her eyes would darken with a much more enticing excitement than mere business. And that slender form would be taut with need as he slowly, carefully sheathed himself in her sweetness.

  With a shuddering breath he stepped forward and grasped her hand to lay it upon his arm. He had shared Jane enough for one day. Now he desired her undivided attention. Alone. Together. With ample opportunity to quench at least a portion of his sharp hunger.

  “Mr. Parker, I believe I requested a luncheon?” he smoothly took command.

  The round, rapidly balding proprietor gave a startled blink as he shifted his attention to the looming nobleman. “Oh yes . . . forgive me.” He gave a lift of his pudgy hands. “I fear I had nearly forgotten. It is not often that I encounter such a shrewd investor who possesses an interest in my modest inn. I must thank Miss Middleton for a most pleasant day.”

  “Yes, she is quite unique.” Hellion possessively tugged the blushing damsal closer to his side. “And no doubt famished after her busy day.”

  Taking the less-than-subtle hint, the innkeep assumed a businesslike demeanor as he motioned for two waiting maids to lift their covered trays and disappear through a side door. Then with a faint nod toward Hellion he turned to lead them out of the kitchen and up the steps that led to the private parlors
.

  Hellion remained silent as they weaved through the crowd entering the public rooms, his gaze straying toward the woman at his side. He had half-expected her to balk at the realization that they would soon be secluded in the parlor, but the happy distraction upon the countenance assured him that she was still consumed with her fascinating thoughts of posting inns, bank ledgers, and escalating profits.

  He heaved a rueful sigh. No doubt he should be grateful that he did not have to toss her over his shoulder and carry her kicking and screaming to their luncheon. But in truth, he was beginning to discover that her ability to cut him so easily from her thoughts was more than a bit annoying.

  Surely most virginal females would be hesitant at being swept off to a private room by a notorious rake? Or wary? Or even frightened?

  Or, better yet, breathless with bewildered excitement?

  Anything would be preferable to blatant lack of interest.

  Feeling very much like a predator stalking a prey that refused to obey the rules of the hunt, Hellion firmly steered Jane through the door held open by Mr. Parker.

  “I believe you will find everything in order,” the proprietor murmured, his eyes swiftly sweeping over the tidy furnishings that included a small table and chairs as well as a stuffed sofa settled near the bay window. “If you have need just ring the bell.”

  Hellion offered a faint nod as he waited for the man to discretely back from the room and close the door behind him.

  Alone at last. A shudder of anticipation raced through his large form before he was firmly quelling the renegade lust. First luncheon and then seduction, he told himself.

  As long as they ate swiftly.

  Very swiftly.

  With elegant ease Hellion led his companion to the table and settled her onto one of the seats before taking his own. Then leaning forward he began to whisk the covers off the numerous dishes that had been placed on the linen tablecloth.

  “Ah, let me see. How can I tempt you? Trout in cream sauce? Roast beef with mushrooms? Soufflé? Carrots with a tempting honey glaze?”

  Coming out of her deep thoughts Jane glanced about the laden table with a hint of surprise.

  “Goodness, it all looks delicious.”

  “Then some of each,” he murmured, taking a plate to fill it with the various treats. He settled it before her and then reached for the waiting bottle of wine to pour her a healthy measure. “I would imagine you have managed to stir up quite an appetite.”

  “Actually I did not even notice until this moment.” She offered a sweet smile, not at all conscious of the fact she had not bothered to notice him until this moment either. A fact that was about to change. “Now I must admit that I am famished.”

  His gaze drifted over her gamine features. “As am I.”

  She blinked, as if suddenly sensing the smoldering desire that shrouded him. “Oh . . . then I suppose it is fortunate that Mr. Parker so thoughtfully provided us with a feast.”

  “I did not say that I was famished for roast beef or trout,” he corrected in low tones. “What I hunger for Mr. Parker cannot provide.”

  She hesitantly licked her lips, no longer protected by her intense preoccupation. “Hellion . . .”

  “Eat your luncheon, my sweet,” he interrupted, leaning back in his chair as he sipped the delicate wine. “We have the entire afternoon to satisfy my appetite.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  From the diary of Miss Jane Middleton, May 21st, 1814:

  P.S. Diary,

  Crossroads . . .

  They seem so terribly romantic. The meeting of two destinies. A sudden choice that will change a life forever. An opportunity to forge a new path.

  In truth crossroads are quite fraught with peril.

  One can awake in the morning perfectly convinced that it is just another day to enjoy and then, without warning, a crossroad appears and the entire future hangs in the balance.

  Crossroads . . .

  They are surely best given to the daring and adventurous, not to poor souls who only desire a safe, predictable life.

  Despite the brooding male gaze that remained unwaveringly upon her, Jane took full pleasure in the delectable luncheon. Indeed, as she polished off the last of an apple tart she was already considering the various means she possessed to lure the cook away from the Fox and Grapes. Such an artist would be invaluable to her own posting inn once it opened. And would no doubt ensure a steady trade.

  Perhaps a small cottage would tempt the older woman, she silently mused. Or the promise of a position for her eldest son, whom she had confessed was currently without work.

  The sound of a low chuckle broke into her thoughts and with a blink Jane regarded her companion, who leaned back in his chair sipping his wine with negligent ease.

  Her distraction was seared away and the familiar tension returned as she noted the wicked amusement in the dark eyes and the deceptive nonchalance that did not entirely cloak his coiled power. She was sharply reminded of a slumbering predator who was prepared to pounce without warning.

  And much to her dismay she was uncertain she was entirely opposed to a good pounce.

  Hoping that her expression did not reveal her unexpected bout of insanity, Jane primly set aside her napkin and cleared her throat.

  “May I inquire what you find so amusing?”

  “I was just pondering how such a tiny thing could possibly tuck away so much food. It befuddles all logic.”

  That was not at all what she had expected him to say and Jane felt a heat of embarrassment rush to her cheeks.

  “Oh, forgive me.” She grimaced. “My governess was forever warning me that I should never reveal my appetite. She was quite convinced that a gentleman preferred to believe that a true lady subsists upon mere air, but my father insisted that there was little point in spending a fortune upon a French chef if his women were not allowed to enjoy the luxury.”

  Leaning forward Hellion set aside his wine and before she could guess his intention managed to capture her fingers in a firm grip.

  “I am not complaining, my love,” he murmured, bringing her bare fingers to his lips. “As a matter of fact I fully agree with your very wise father. Despite your governess’s rather dubious notion of what a gentleman might or might not believe, most men deeply appreciate a woman with healthy appetites. It reveals an instinctive sensuality that is quite enticing.”

  Her heart gave a leap as he aimlessly nibbled upon her fingers. Rats. He was not playing at all fair.

  “It does?”

  “Oh yes. But then I already know of your passions.” His dark gaze pinned her own with a smoldering intent. “They have left me burning until I can barely think of anything but my need for you.”

  “Hellion . . .”

  “Are you finished?” he interrupted, his voice oddly rough.

  “Yes, but . . .” Her words became a squawk of surprise as he abruptly rose to his feet and in one smooth motion scooped her out of her chair to cradle her against his chest. Glancing at the determined set of his expression she could not pretend she did not know what he was about. Frustrated desire was carved into every beautiful feature. “Hellion, the maids will soon be returning.”

  With a lift of his brows he carried her toward the door and slipped the latch before moving to the distant sofa and settling upon the cushions. Jane discovered herself perched upon his lap with his arms firmly about her.

  “No one will intrude,” he announced with a pleased smile at his cunning.

  Fiercely aware of the hard muscles pressing into her thighs and the scent of warm male skin, Jane struggled to recall how to think.

  “Obviously not without a battering ram,” she managed to mutter.

  His lips twitched as his hand ran a path up her stiff spine.

  “Relax, my love. Beyond its excellent food the Fox and Grapes is renowned for its discretion. The servants are paid a generous wage to avoid petty gossip.”

  “I shall have to keep that in mind when it comes time to h
ire the staff for my own posting inn.”

  The dark eyes flashed with an unexpected annoyance. “No.”

  Jane blinked in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

  “There has been enough talk of business for one day. It is now time for pleasure.”

  Without warning Jane discovered herself being tilted backward onto the sofa. Hellion smoothly followed, half lying over her as he reached up to pluck off her bonnet and toss it impatiently aside.

  A part of her knew that she should protest. It was obvious that Hellion had deliberately lured her to this private chamber with the intention of seduction.

  A greater part of her, however, did not desire to protest. She wanted to be here with him. She wanted to lie beneath him and learn where these astonishing sensations would lead. She wanted his hands upon her bare skin and an end to the aching need that haunted her.

  “Precisely what sort of pleasure do you have in mind?” she breathed.

  Swiftly removing the pins from her hair he ran his fingers through her curls. “That is entirely in your hands.”

  “My hands?”

  His expression became oddly somber as he studied her flushed countenance.

  “You have claimed me a rake and a scoundrel. I cannot deny the charge. I have known many women and taken pleasure with them. Most would say too much pleasure. But with you . . .” He gave a slow shake of his head. “With you it is different.”

  Something in his tone made her heart skip a beat. “Why?”

  “I truly cannot say. At first I presumed that it was your innocence.” His lips twisted wryly. “I am unaccustomed to proper virgins, to say the least. But the more I am with you the more I suspect that it is something else.”

  Almost absently he trailed a silken curl over the curve of her breast, sending a shiver of excitement jolting through her body.

  “And what would that be?” she whispered.

  His gaze tangled with her own. “I care. I care that you desire me as much as I desire you. I care that I please you. I care that you find happiness when you are in my company. I care and it is oddly frightening.”