“Why do you women always fall for the bastards?”
Because some bastards, she thought, are actually heroes in disguise.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The tree above shed droplets of gathered drizzle, rousing her from a dozing state. Angeline looked down at Benjamin. His hands were curled under his chin making him look like a boy. She nudged his shoulder but he just snuggled in tighter against her thigh. She made a pillow for him out of the shawl to cushion his head as she scooted out from under him. She stood and stretched her cramped limbs. Clouds had finally overtaken the moon. The fog combined with the sudden darkness turned the night forbidding.
Angeline stumbled and took a few bad turns, but it wasn’t long before the rushlights came into sight. She could see Draxford near the stables speaking to Wick. Even from a distance she could tell there was a tenseness to the exchange. She could make out the glowing cheroot in his hand as he gestured toward the gardens. Spots of lantern lights flashed between trees lining the drive. He had people combing the property for her. How long had she been napping?
She ducked back into the shadows and eyed the trellis that led to the small sitting room on the east wing. Though she’d scaled the trellis countless times when she was younger, it now looked naked and fragile. The climbing plant that had once knitted the pieces of weather-worn wood slats together had been chopped down. Her heart started racing and she realized she didn’t have a child’s fearlessness anymore. Climbing the two stories to her bedroom seemed an intimidating prospect. But the alternative was more daunting. The thought of facing Draxford’s temper, especially after calling him a bastard sent her scrambling up the makeshift ladder. Halfway up, there was a crack that sounded as loud as a pistol shot to her as one of the slats broke beneath her foot. With one leg now dangling free, she tightened her grip on the splintering wood to support more of her weight. She sighed with relief as she found another foothold.
She heard the approach of heavy boots on the packed dirt of the drive. “You little fool, are you trying to kill yourself?” Her heart jolted at the sound of his voice.
She could continue the precarious climb, or face the fire-breathing Draxford below. Deciding the trellis was a wiser choice she went up another rung. Soon he was shouting orders. With the pounding in her ears, she could make out little but his harsh voice and Wick’s mumbling reply.
She concentrated on making it to the top of the trellis. From there it was just a matter of balancing on the top of the railing, an easy jump onto the balcony and a sprint down the hall to her room. He could spend some of his fury pounding on her locked bedroom door. The wood creaked ominously and she moved cautiously up another rung. The ancient trellis began to pull away from the wall. Angeline cried out and made a mad grab for the balustrade. Her hands landed with bruising impact. The railing was thick and hard to grip. The latticework bowed further and her hold started slipping. She swung her feet free of the trellis. Tears pricked her eyes as her body slammed against the side of the balcony. Angeline hung there suspended twenty feet from the ground with the ornamental iron leaves cutting into her palms, her cheek pressed tight against the vertical bars. Suddenly, candlelight illuminated the sitting room. Her arms were starting to ache when a shadow fell over her blocking out the light.
With an iron grip on one of her wrists, he leaned over and grabbed her bottom with his other hand and hauled her up and over. Her backside tingled where his hand had cupped her. The marble floor felt wonderfully solid beneath her bare feet. She shook the blood back into her hands, to relieve the prickling sensation.
“You caught our wee girl. Well done, sir.” Wick called from below.
Angeline peeked over the side to see Wick and a few of the stable boys chuckling as they folded up a blanket. They’d meant to catch her if Draxford had failed.
Constance crowded in behind him on the small balcony. As usual she looked elegant and unruffled. She was buttoned to the neck in a demure dressing gown, her hair fashioned in a tight braid. The only sign that she’d been roused from sleep was the tired crease between her brows. “You look like a drowned mouse. And you’ve torn your dress.”
Draxford wiped the sweat from his face with the crook of his arm and turned to face Constance. He stared at her for a moment. “Her dress? Hell, she nearly broke her neck.’”
Constance’s eyes widened at his harsh tone. She placed her hand on his arm. “You’re shaken. Let me handle this.” Constance bestowed a long-suffering smile on Angeline, but her eyes were hard.
“You’ve had your chance,” he said. “The chit needs a firmer hand.” Chastened, Angeline followed behind his broad back as he stepped back into the sitting room, picked up the candle and strode out into the hallway. Gladys’s door opened a crack and the old woman looking fuzzy from sleep peeped out.
“The girl just needs a little disciplining,” he told his aunt.
“Oh my, she often does,” Gladys said with a sleepy smile.
“Go back to bed, Aunt.” Draxford’s voice softened for the old lady.
Constance, not put off by his dismissal on the balcony, walked side by side with Angeline down the wide staircase.
He opened the door to the library and after ushering Angeline inside angled his big frame in the doorway to effectively block Constance.
“It would be best if I attend her,” she said, wringing her hands. “My cousin will not like to hear of this.”
“That is Stanbury’s problem,” he said.
Angeline caught the indignant expression on Constance’s face as Draxford shut the door. An expression that said a guardian had no business locking himself in with his ward at this hour of the night.
He set the candle down and turned to face her, his mouth set in a firm line.
Judging by his mood, she decided it would be wise to start with an apology. “I’m sorry for the trouble I caused you.”
“Little liar, you are never sorry for the trouble you cause me. I’m a stone-hearted bastard after all.”
She shrugged and attempted an apologetic smile.
He did not return the smile.
Angeline hugged herself to fight off the chill that was settling in her bones and causing her teeth to chatter. The fire looked inviting, but she’d have to go around Draxford to get to it, and she did not have the courage for that.
“Strip off your damp things.”
“I will not.” Defiance forced her to meet his glare.
“I didn’t offer you a choice.”
“Someone could come in.” Angeline could hear Constance pacing in the hallway.
His eyes narrowed. He knew she was stalling. She doubted anyone would dare enter without his permission, not even meddlesome Miss Stanbury. She moved to stand behind the chair to put a barrier between them. “I’m fine as I am.” She spoke stiffly, trying to control the chattering of her teeth.
He crossed the room and she was struck again by how big he was and how positively tiny he made her feel. She gripped the chair, her heart beating in her throat.
“Disobedient chit.” He shoved the chair aside and whipped her around. His big fingers seemed to have no trouble undoing the tiny fasteners.
He peeled off the bodice and tossed it atop the chair by the fire.
She held onto his arm for support as she stepped out of her ruined skirt. The muscles beneath the jacket were steel hard. Despite all her intentions to resist him, her knees weakened. He removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. The jacket retained the heat from his body.
“What the devil were you doing?”
“I was merely returning a lost kitten to its mother.” Which sounded like a pathetically treacly excuse that he would never believe.
“Then why the hell were you trying to sneak in like a common thief?” He walked over to the hearth and pushed logs into the fire.
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nbsp; “I was hoping to avoid you. You were in the courtyard with Wick. You seemed angry.”
“Sweeting, angry does not describe what I am feeling.” Something had been unleashed in him tonight. Something reckless and dark. His intensity unnerved her. “You were gone for two bloody hours.”
It seemed safer to admit the truth than to let him discover it from someone else. Besides, they’d done nothing wrong. “Well, after I saw to the kitten, I visited with Benjamin in the garden.”
His face grew appreciably paler.
“Benjamin was drinking himself into a stupor over Olivia Mayhew.”
“I’m beginning to suspect that you are actually in love with him,” he growled.
She let that statement go unchallenged. With her eyes still averted, she combed her trembling fingers through her damp hair.
“If you think you can force my hand with this behavior, you are mistaken.”
As if it could protect her, she pulled the over-sized jacket tightly around her. “Would you please send someone to fetch him. ‘Tis too damp to sleep outside.”
“He’ll survive until I’m through here.”
“Can you not cut short your scolding and deal me out that spanking you’ve been longing to give me? It would be so much quicker.” She braced her hands on the desk’s edge and thrust her bottom out provocatively. He stared at her as if he couldn’t believe her audaciousness, which only served to spur her on. She lifted onto the balls of her feet and wiggled her arse for good measure.
He stalked across the room toward her. She pulled in a startled breath as he shoved the coat followed by her chemise to her waist baring her buttocks. She congratulated herself. She had finally taunted and teased him into losing control.
“Exactly how a willful brat should be punished.” He insinuated the toe of his boot between her legs and forced her to spread her legs. By the time he was satisfied with her stance she was certain her most intimate parts were exposed to him. His big hand landed a stinging slap on her naked bottom, her breasts jiggling with the impact. With one arm he swept the blotter and books to the floor then putting persuasive pressure on the back of her neck he made her lay across the smooth surface of the desk, her soft breasts flattening against the hard wood, her bared bottom even more vulnerable.
The sound of his hand hitting her naked flesh seemed to carry. Angeline blushed. It felt exceedingly wicked to be punished by her guardian while her chaperone listened outside the door. She wondered if tonight would end any chance of a Stanbury alliance for either of them. She tried to straighten but he placed a restraining hand on her back.
She imagined his red hand prints on her naked buttocks and her pussy clenched with desire.
Nicholas looked down at his misbehaving charge splayed half-naked across his desk and wondered if he’d lost his bloody mind. Certainly a special circle of hell awaited a man who wanted to fuck his ward till she begged for mercy. Nicholas smacked her perfect, rounded bottom again and saw the tremor run through her. Restraint fell away, replaced by an all consuming need to own her sweet body. He was meant to protect her, but he’d become the predator.
Nicholas inhaled sharply trying to restore self control. He forced himself to leave off touching her, dropping his hands to his side. Taking advantage of his hesitation, she shifted on the desk, lowering her heels to the floor, making her pert bottom less accessible to him.
“I didn’t give you permission to move.” When she brought her thighs together it infuriated him. Her disobedience annihilated any thought of self-denial. Nicholas threw off the jacket draped over her, yanked loose the ties of her stays and then with a satisfying rip of fabric dispensed with the chemise. He tucked his hand beneath her belly then moved it lower. The unbelievable softness of her skin followed by the silken triangle of hair, made his erection throb. He groaned as his fingers slid beneath her parted slit, tilting her so that her bottom was angled upward again. He swept her hair from her temple exposing her face. Instantly she shut her eyes. Clearly, she did not want him reading her emotions. She could not seem to hide all her feelings though. He wanted to suck that stubborn, pouting bottom lip of hers. He tucked her hair behind her ear. The small diamond earring she wore glittered as it caught the firelight.
With one hand cupping her pussy, he resumed the punishment with the other.
Her eyes scrunched tighter, her small white teeth biting into her bottom lip.
When her bottom was nicely flushed, he cupped her plump cheeks and spread them apart with his thumbs. Angeline squirmed beneath his invading hands. His gaze feasted on her exposed sex. Her pink folds glistened. She was wet for him. An instant later, suspicion rose like bile in his throat. How could he be sure that this was in response to his touch?
He took her hand and tucked it beneath her, forcing her fingers to curl around her slick pussy lips. “Feel how hot and wet you are. What liberties did you allow Benjamin?” He could hear the raw desperation in his voice.
“’Tisn’t like that between us,” she cried. “The man’s heart had been smashed. I was merely offering him sympathy.”
He manipulated her fingers so that she was stroking herself. “Yet you are ready for someone.”
She wrenched her hand out from under his and attempted to push herself up from the desk. It took no effort to keep her pinned. One hand spread flat across her lower back did the trick.
“For you, you great bastard.”
He released the breath he’d been holding. Christ, he couldn’t believe how badly he’d needed that confirmed.
“I’ve allowed you to call me a bastard twice. There will not be a third time.” In response to his warning the little vixen actually lifted her hips, her arse begging for attention. It was an invitation Nicholas couldn’t resist. He smoothed his callused hands over the delicate skin of her buttocks.
“I will teach you to behave in my way,” he said, his voice a low growl. He gave her right cheek a smart smack, and then another and another. When he stopped and didn’t immediately give her left cheek equal attention, she lifted her arse asking for more. “There’s my obedient girl,” he said and delivered a series of stinging slaps to the neglected cheek.
Tracing the crack of her buttocks, he relished the sight of those pert globes reddened by his punishment. His cock was heavy and thick with need and he wanted nothing more from life than to drive his cock into that tempting little pussy. But he had a soldier’s inclination toward superstitions. He would not tempt fate by taking a privilege he hadn’t yet earned. He circled her puckered hole with his thumb and pulled in a shaky breath. He realized he was laying a similar trap to the Stanburys’, but this time he wanted desperately to get caught. A shame, Constance had no intention of obliging by bursting through the door. Angeline could offer no resistance to marriage if she were caught in this compromising position.
He pressed the pad of his thumb on the tight rosebud, thinking how badly he wished to breach that narrow passage. Her knuckles whitened as she tightened her grip on the desk’s edge.
With the hand he’d wedged beneath her, he tilted her further so he could better appreciate her delectable cunt. He pulled in a shaky breath. Since when did he not decide his own fate. Tomorrow they would ride to Gretna Green, whether the stubborn chit liked it or not.
With reluctance, he allowed her to stand.
Her cheeks flared with embarrassment. They were as red as her bottom. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears and something more…passion perhaps. One thing was obvious the chilling indifference she’d plagued him with for weeks was gone. The pulse in her throat beat so hard he could see it. The sight of her was enough to drop him to his knees in lustful adoration. He made no attempt to hide his hunger for her and raked his gaze with proprietary claim from the top of her head to her toes. His breathing was as erratic as hers as he took in her silken hair cascading to her slim hips, her absurdly tiny
waist, her firm perfect breasts lifting with each breath. His mouth watered at the sight of her nipples distended by the cold and perhaps desire. He wrenched his gaze away from the most suckable nipples he’d ever seen and tortured himself further by lowering his gaze to follow the line of her slender legs to her delicate ankles then up again to the apex of her thighs. Her desire for him glistened wet on her pussy lips.
She gathered up her clothes and clutched them in front of her. He fought the urge to tear them from her hands. “What of Miss Stanbury?” she asked.
“Would you rather I teach her?”
She pouted her lips again.
What the hell did that adorable sulk signify? Was she jealous? He cupped her chin and rubbed a thumb over her plump lower lip. “Miss Stanbury’s sole purpose was to instruct you on the social graces.”
“She has taken on an inordinate amount of responsibilities for one who was merely here to show me how to curtsy.” She took a step back from him. Her green eyes flashed with fury. “She has erased Silas from this house. His study has been gutted.”
“That’s why you fled and scared the bloody hell out of me?”
Angeline could barely keep the tears at bay. Her punisher, looking so darkly handsome, studied her from beneath lids heavy with sensuality. With masculine arrogance, the man took no pains to conceal the daunting erection straining the fabric of his breeches.
She swallowed back the tears. “I’m sure you wouldn’t understand. You haven’t an ounce of sentimental feeling in your entire body.” She dropped her gaze to the layers of clothing she held. The stays, the petticoat, it all suddenly looked too complicated to manage under his intense scrutiny. Her fingers trembled as she tossed aside the ruined chemise.
“Come here,” he demanded. “You owe me a true kiss.”
She blinked in disbelief. This from the man who’d stood like a statue when she’d kissed him in the garden. When she hesitated, he ripped the clothing from her hands and threw the bunch on the rug before the fire. She was quickly discovering that Draxford was a man who insisted on control in all aspects of his life.
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