One Taste of Scandal

by Heather Hiestand

  She’d worn her cakie uniform, which was easy to remove, but when it was off, she still felt covered in slime. So next, she pulled off her flannel petticoat. Not good enough. The linen one was next, until nothing covered her lower limbs but her combinations.

  She heard an exhalation and when she looked up, the teacup in Judah’s hand was wavering dangerously. A step brought her to him, her hand under the teacup to steady it, but it was too late. The cup tipped and half of the contents cascaded over her corset cover.

  Judah swore, pungent military words. She drank the rest of the cup down, taking the warmth into her belly while he dabbed at her chest with the tea towel. How she appreciated that he didn’t flutter and move away as the baronet would have. It made her daring.

  “I am tired of being cold,” she announced, and unbuttoned her corset cover. Judah moved behind her and helped her with her corset. She dashed into bed, still in her combinations. “Do not join me while a stitch of damp clothing is on.”

  He stood there, damp garments hanging from his fingers. “You want me to join you?”

  “How else are we to get warm?” Her teeth chattered. “You know my feet are like ice and the rest of me is not much better.”

  With an unreadable expression, Judah set her clothes over the chair by the fire, then began to disrobe. Men’s clothing did not obscure the body to the extent women’s did, but she still reveled in each moment a new part of him was revealed. The muscular calf, the strong shoulder, the tight buttock.

  “You are removing everything?” All of a sudden she second-guessed herself. How far was she willing to go?

  “My dear girl, I am wet all over. The baggage, damp with snow, pressed against me as I walked, as did your coat.” He walked toward her.

  She did not mean to let her gaze drift lower, but it did. “Oh my,” she squeaked, when she saw his manhood, jutting arrogantly forward through a nest of dark curls. She wanted to curl her fingers around it, taste it. How scandalous.

  The bed sank as he climbed in. They could not avoid touching each other on the narrow mattress, but it was what she’d wanted, why she’d dared him to join her. For warmth, for one taste of scandal. She reached out her hand, inviting him closer.

  “Why, Magdalene?”

  “I am cold?”

  He stared at her. She could see doubt in his features, and resolve. “You are nothing like a Society miss. You are too strong, too daring. I know you want to be that perfect marriage mart candidate, but I admire you so for what you truly are.”

  “My character defects have not prevented me from receiving two excellent proposals,” she said, distracted by the way he put his arm around her.

  “I hope mine was one of them.” His lips came down on hers then, before she could think of a response.

  Could she be dreaming? Because she was quite sure she had dreamed this every night for months. Her fingers pressed into the hard muscle on his marble-cold torso. Flat disks jutted against her palms, his nipples. When she ran her nails over them, he groaned into her mouth, thrust his tongue against hers. Every inch of her body pressed against his, pliant, like an ice sculpture melting into a warm, living Scandalous Cross woman. They warmed together.

  Why had she fought her ruin for so long? This was paradise. Judah’s lips left hers and she would have protested, except that they slid across her cheek and down her neck, to her collarbone. Only one garment remained between her skin and his, and it seemed as if he kissed it off. One moment, his fingers were whispering along the linen, and the next she felt absurdly hot flesh against her body. She had thought she was leaning on her elbow, sitting half up, but no, she was on her back and Judah was everywhere.

  He moved too quickly for her to find time to protest. His hands cupped and molded her breasts, then drifted down to her waist while his mouth took over. She arched her back in response to the way his tongue raked hot streaks of pleasure from her nipples, but then his hands were on her thighs. Yes, her upper thighs. He circled her legs, coaxing them apart while she was still rattled, boneless, from the way his mouth caressed the undersides of her breasts.

  Then, his fingers found the curls between her legs, but before she could react, his mouth was at the seam of her private place, hotly caressing the damp flesh open. She was a Cross girl, she knew about the pearl hidden underneath the hood there, but Judah could find it too.

  She cried out, then put her forearm against her mouth and bit into her own flesh, trying to be quiet while his tongue did things she could only have imagined in her darkest, most erotic dreams. Writhing, she used her other hand to direct his head, trying to find the perfect place for his lips and tongue.

  Perfection eluded her until she pulled back her legs, resting her feet on his shoulders. Distantly, she realized her toes were no longer cold. He had heated every small place on her body. But then, she forgot her body as it seized in delight, throwing her consciousness outside herself in a nimbus of stars. All because of Judah. Her head fell back and her chest heaved when she returned to earth. A few moments later, she blinked her eyes open to find Judah over her, staring down with tenderness in his eyes.

  “You liked that?”

  “I was born to experience that.” Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. “I want all of it, Judah. I want all of you.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Cross women learn their bodies. I won’t conceive your child today.”

  He nodded, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. She brushed it away and kissed him there.

  “Just love me, Judah. We’ve both been waiting so long.”

  She could feel the tension in his shoulders as he settled himself over her body. When his hot manhood nestled between her legs, a glaze came over his eyes. He was already lost to pleasure and he wasn’t even inside her. She ran her fingers down his back, his flank, then found the hard length of him. He groaned as she found her center with him and positioned the tip of him there.

  Then, she found his hips with her fingers. His buttocks tightened and he thrust forward, opening her like a flower. She arched into him, moving past the pain that marked her first time, but couldn’t quite stop a cry from piercing her lips.

  Judah stopped moving, staring down at her. “You are a virgin?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I was two seconds ago,” she panted. “Why are you stopping?” She felt a delicious edge of the cataclysmic glory she’d experienced with his mouth on her pearl, and wanted the sensation again.

  “But you seemed so knowing. You wanted me so fervently.”

  She was panting. “Just because my mother explained the process to me, does not mean I indulged.”

  He began to roll off her, but she clutched his back. “Don’t stop!”

  “Magdalene, we shouldn’t be doing this. You don’t love me.” His eyes were desperate.

  “I never said that.”

  “You refused to marry me.”

  She kissed his neck. “We don’t want the same things. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you.”

  “How can you accept the proposal of the baronet when you might have my child in your belly?”

  “I told you.” She gently danced her fingers down his back, cupped his buttocks. “There are only a few days a month a woman can conceive. This isn’t one of them.”

  He sighed. She could feel his chest move against hers. “I don’t understand your family at all.”

  “You do not have to. You only need to understand me.” She slid her legs up his, then crossed them around his back. “Love me, Judah, please.”

  “I can’t stop,” he groaned, pulling her hands from him and sliding his fingers in between hers. He began to move then, long luxurious strokes inside her that seemed to simultaneously tear her apart and knit her together again.

  “Judah,” she whispered. “I adore you.” She lifted her legs into the air, feeling the angle of their joining change and deepen. Sore, stretched, amazed, she couldn’t decide how this all felt. She only knew she had been missi
ng something indescribable.

  “Love me,” he commanded. “Tell me you love me.”

  “I do.”

  “Tell me.” He thrust so deeply that she cried out.

  She tried to pull her hand away from his, but he would not let go. His gaze, intense with exertion, found hers.

  “Tell me.”

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  His mouth descended on hers. The deep, drugging kisses, stronger than any opiate, took command of her senses. She could do nothing but embrace him and let the passion take over. When he cried out, moving against her with intense depth and speed, she lost control of herself again, her entire being spiraling into a wave of pleasure.

  Then, it was only them, warm and cozy in the tiny bed, falling asleep after a long, draining day.

  They spent the long day and night together, in a lover’s wordless happy haze, napping and making love. It was only when Judah sat beside Magdalene the next day on the train that he realized they had said little. He’d been too overwhelmed by the sights and scents of her strong, slim, feminine body to talk, still unbelieving that she’d given herself to him when she planned to marry another.

  Now, they could not converse. The train was crammed full of people who had been stranded by the storm. He’d had to stand while she sat. When they arrived in London, it was even worse. No cabs could be found, and they had a dangerous trek through the snow on foot. By then, Magdalene was tense with worry for Manfred. No telegram had arrived at the small Doncaster telegraph office before they’d left.

  At her brother’s house, Magdalene let herself inside.

  “I should come with you,” Judah said. “I might be able to run for the doctor or do some other errand.”

  “Hetty is here, and George,” she said. “Come tomorrow.”

  “Magdalene.” He hated the pleading in his voice. Why was it necessary when she had said she loved him? Yet he had the distinct sensation that nothing had been resolved between them.

  “Come tomorrow,” she repeated. “I do not want you ill.”

  He frowned as she shut the door without so much as a kiss good-bye. She did not behave as he expected a woman in love would, but they had been two days without news of Manfred. Also, he had no reason to think she did love him. She’d only said so in the throes of passion. As he regained the street, he remembered his other responsibilities. Eddy and Redcake’s. Surely they deserved his attention too, especially when he’d abandoned them so precipitously.

  He walked home, balancing carefully on the snow-covered icy streets, forcing himself to pay attention to his feet, rather than to worries about Magdalene or memories of their night together.

  At the door, Lawrence met him, looking exhausted.

  “Have you slept since I left?” Judah asked.

  “I could ask the same, Captain.”

  “It was a long journey through bad weather. What is your reason?”

  “Did you know the lad has nightmares? He has woken us up at least thrice a night since you’ve been gone.”

  Judah frowned. “I never heard anything when I was here.”

  “Strange, isn’t it? But he isn’t bamming.”

  “A larger house will allow at least some of us to sleep. I have some residences to look at when I have time.” He heard a clattering on the steps and Eddy appeared, looking a little wild-eyed but otherwise less injured than when Judah had left.

  “Is Miss Cross’s brother recovered?” Eddy asked.

  “I do not know,” Judah said, handing Lawrence his things. “But I delivered her to her brother’s door. I shall call tomorrow.”

  “I do not like Mr. Farmer,” Eddy said next.

  “Think of him as a customer you must please,” Judah advised. “Now, if you do not mind, I would like a bath. Lawrence, can you bring me hot water?”

  “Yes, Captain.” Lawrence went down the hall.

  “I’m not a scholar,” Eddy said. “I want to work with my hands.”

  “You haven’t been here long,” Judah told him. “Give this a chance.”

  Eddy frowned. “I could sell papers again.”

  “You don’t need to work. For a boy in your position, this new life should be a dream come true.”

  “I never dreamed of it.” He crossed his arms.

  Judah stopped, trying to warm his feet. “Speaking of dreams, why are you having nightmares?”

  Eddy shrugged. “Not ’appy, I suppose.”

  Judah scrubbed his face with his hands. “I have a great deal to do today. We shall continue this discussion another time.” He climbed the stairs, ready to do his valet’s job and lay out clothing, all the quicker to check on Redcake’s.

  After an afternoon hunched over papers in his office, he came home to an acrimonious dinner at his table, followed by a busy Saturday morning at Redcake’s. With a little over two weeks to go to Christmas, the upper classes were gone from London but everyone else was ready to celebrate. Early in the afternoon though, he broke himself away to call at the Cross home.

  Magdalene was napping in a chair next to Manfred when Hetty appeared at the door.

  “Captain Shield is downstairs,” the maid reported.

  “Can George see him?” She yawned and stretched, half-asleep. Seeing the captain in a weakened, exhausted state made her fear she would say something she shouldn’t, reveal some private part of herself. That was, if she had any privacy remaining, given their night together.

  “I think he has a touch of the fever himself now. He’s asleep.”

  Magdalene groaned. They all needed to be well or her nephews would be shipped to her uncle’s country home for the holidays rather than to London. She stood slowly and walked to the basin and poured in a little water so she could clean her face and her hands.

  On the way downstairs she looked at herself. Her dress was old, but at least she’d changed it that morning. Besides, Judah liked her disheveled. He appreciated an active and occupied woman, rather than a perfect Society miss. Maybe she was incapable of being the woman she had expected to be. Certainly she had been bored at Lady Varney’s home.

  When she saw Judah in the parlor, sitting in an armchair, his head back and eyes closed, the picture of exhaustion, she wanted to crawl into his lap and curl up against him. If not for Manfred, she would wish them back in Doncaster. Quietly, she closed the parlor door and tiptoed up to him.

  His eyes opened and a lazy smile brightened his face. “Maggie.”

  She blushed. He had called her that for the first time in Doncaster. “Hello, Judah.”

  He stood and moved to a sofa, then patted the space next to him. His tiger eyes seemed to steal the light from the gas sconces and they glowed with intensity.

  She felt a moment’s unease. Would he pounce? “Hetty will be here soon with tea.”

  “I told her not to bother.”

  “Oh.” She sat next to him and arranged her skirt, then folded her hands primly in her lap. Would he demand a kiss?

  Judah inclined his head. When he glanced up again she saw he now wore a civil mask and it was as if the hunger she had sensed in him had departed. “How is Manfred? I stayed away as long as I could, but I must know. You might have sent a note.”

  She had considered it, but as she had stared down at the paper, did not know what to write. “I am sorry. I should have done so. I know you have been worried too.”

  He patted her shoulder, his big hands awkward on her, in a way they had not been when they were naked together. “I know you have been too busy to think of me.”

  She shivered at the memory of their bodies entwined. “On the contrary. It has been a challenge to think of anything else.”

  His lips twitched. “I feel quite the same way, occupied as I have been with my household and Redcake’s. I did have news waiting for me. The marchioness has become an aunt, courtesy of her sister Matilda, who is recovering. But how is Manfred?”

  She took a deep breath of his exotic scent, remembering how it had stayed on her flesh for a ful
l day after she had come home. “Manfred is well enough. His fever was very high for six hours after I arrived. Hetty said he had some kind of seizure, but he has been awake a little and his fever is all but gone.”

  “He seems in his right mind?” He folded his hands over his knee, quite deliberately.

  She thought he’d considered putting his hands elsewhere. “Yes, and he can move his appendages. George is becoming ill now.”

  “It is very contagious then. Should you be here?”

  “I rarely become ill. My brothers were always more susceptible.”

  “Make sure you eat and sleep,” he advised. “It makes a great deal of difference, I’ve always noticed.”

  She smiled at the advice. “I will, Auntie Judah.”

  He laughed. “I gave Hetty a basket of Redcake’s treats. I even liberated some scotch trifle that is the specialty at the holidays.” He reached for her hand and pressed it between his two palms. “I will not keep you away from your brothers. I know this is not the time to discuss our future. Please consider it though. I will call again soon.”

  He stood. His look upon her was serious and loving all at once. She felt the warm glow of his concern for her. It didn’t diminish as he left the room.

  She sat for a moment in the cold parlor. He had been respectful. He had brought a gift. She appreciated that, given that she’d all but declared herself a loose woman. What kind of future did he have in mind? Did he still want to marry her? Could she be happy with him?

  She dropped her head into her hands. His kindness left her with more questions than answers.

  Sunday passed in a haze of nursing her brothers. Judah did not return, nor could she have expected him to. On Monday, she found letters from Harrogate in the morning’s post.