Still Wicked

by Ayers, Kathleen

  “Do you find me unpleasant now, little nun?”

  Elizabeth bit her lip, trying to stifle the moan bubbling up in her throat. “Novice. I thought”—she was panting as if she’d run along the cliffs at St. Albans— “I might be frigid.”

  “You most definitely are not.” He pressed a kiss to her stomach, then nipped her. “You were only afraid. I will ensure you are never afraid of anything ever again. I promise.”

  Elizabeth arched her back, hips moving against the pressure of his fingers. “I can’t. I—”

  Kelso pressed his thumb down, rotating and stroking. “Let go, Elizabeth. I’m here.”

  The sensation was akin to someone tossing Elizabeth up into the air as she shattered, bits of her floating apart into the sky. Everything around her spiraled apart, bursting into a million brilliant stars before her eyes.

  “Spencer.”

  * * *

  Strands of ebony spilled out across the bed as Elizabeth moaned his name in the throes of her first climax. Possessiveness, a dangerous emotion and one he’d rarely experienced, punched Spence in the gut.

  He wished to never hear another man’s name on her lips.

  Mine. Mine. Mine.

  Spence’s heart pounded duly. His cock throbbed.

  “Kelso?”

  “Spencer,” he reminded her gently, rolling off the bed to shuck off the leather breeches. With a groan of relief, his erection sprang free, thick and hard against his stomach. His fingers curled around his cock, stroking as he looked at Elizabeth who had, unbelievably, shut her eyes again.

  Disobedient little nun. “I thought we agreed you were to keep your eyes open.” The sight of her tore at his heart in such a way he nearly reconsidered bedding her.

  “You agreed.” She placed her hands over her eyes. “Shouldn’t we douse the lamp?”

  Kneeling on the bed, he came toward her. “Open your eyes, Elizabeth.”

  She removed her hands. “I—” Her eyes popped open, widening dramatically at the sight of his cock before looking away.

  “Elizabeth, look at me.” He sat back on his knees, a hand on one thigh, positioned just outside her womb. She was so incredibly beautiful, especially there. He slid a finger along the wet lines of her flesh, watching the way she arched her back at his touch. His cock throbbed at the need to sink inside her. Claim her. “There’s nothing on the nightstand which requires your perusal.”

  Reluctantly her eyes flew to his face. “It’s large.”

  “I appreciate the compliment.” He reached up to stroke the side of her face until she sighed and relaxed. “You know that it hurts, the first time?”

  “It does?” Elizabeth tried to wiggle away from him.

  Cupping the side of her face, he rubbed his thumb along her chin. “Yes. But then never again.” He guided himself to her entrance and slid in an inch, no more. His hand grabbed one plump buttock, holding her while his teeth grazed the nipple of her breast.

  Elizabeth whimpered, her hips tilting.

  Spence pulled back slightly and thrust again, this time hitting the barrier of her virginity.

  Bloody bit of overvalued membrane.

  He was going to hurt her; it was unavoidable. “I’m sorry.” He pulled back, thrusting through her virginity and burying himself deep inside.

  She cried out, her nails biting into his arms. “Bollocks.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. Spence didn’t budge. God knows he wanted to. He waited until her limbs became less rigid. He pulled back and thrust again, groaning at the tight clasp of her body around his.

  Elizabeth had tears in her eyes. She turned her face from him.

  Spence moved in slow, gentle strokes, restraining himself from taking her the way he wished to. He nuzzled the side of her neck, whispering nonsensical things, until the grip of her fingers lessened. “Look at me.”

  She turned back to him, her eyes soft and wet with tears.

  He brushed his lips against hers. “Little nun.” His fingers moved to the spot where their bodies joined.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh.” Elizabeth made the most delightful sounds when she was aroused. Her hips tilted upward as she tried to match his rhythm. “Spencer.” Her hands ran over the bunched muscles of his buttocks, urging him on.

  Spence threaded his fingers through hers, bringing her arms up on either side of her head. He thrust hard. Deep. Twisting his hips so their bodies caught at the right spot.

  Elizabeth was panting, back arching as her muscles clamped down, pulling his cock farther inside as if to demand his release.

  A cry left his lips as his climax roared through his body. For a moment he didn’t take a breath, sure his heart had stopped at the intense pleasure. The deep sense of connection to the woman beneath him overwhelmed him, as if his soul and Elizabeth’s had touched.

  Sweet Jesus.

  His face fell into the damp ebony curls at her neck as he struggled to regain his breathing. Blood pulsed and rippled beneath his skin as he fought to make sense of what had just transpired.

  It was a consummation, just not one he’d expected. His mind immediately rebelled against the thumping of his heart.

  He rolled to the side, gathering Elizabeth’s softness to him. Inhaling the damp, feminine scent of her, Spence tried to clear his mind. He’d bedded many women, beginning when he was a lad of fifteen. None of those encounters even remotely came close to how it felt to make love to Elizabeth. And he’d had a mistress who’d practiced the Kama Sutra.

  The light touch of her fingers caressed his thigh, moving over the Sanskrit decorating his hip. It was a simple phrase, something Spence had done on a lark a year after he’d arrived in India.

  Fear nothing.

  How ironic Elizabeth’s fingers would linger over those words before closing her palm over his hip.

  “How do you feel?” he said, enjoying the sensation of Elizabeth curled next to him.

  Silence greeted his question. Spence looked over at her. His little nun had fallen asleep with only a modest bit of cuddling. When she started to snore, Spence regretted allowing her so much to drink.

  Pressing a kiss to her temple he moved to the chair before the fire and poured himself what remained of the brandy. He doubted he would sleep tonight. Things had suddenly become much more complicated than he’d anticipated.

  He’d married Elizabeth for practical reasons, not to moon over her while she snored, rather loudly, five feet away from him. He didn’t like complications.

  Bloody hell.

  Why the hell couldn’t anything ever be simple?

  21

  Elizabeth stretched out her arms with a yawn before pulling the quilt up over her shoulders. The room had cooled significantly, and she shivered before opening one eye. The fire was out.

  She rolled over with a groan. The headache pounding like a drum in her temples wasn’t welcome nor the terrible taste in her mouth. There was a distinct soreness between her thighs. And the other side of the bed was empty.

  The evening came back in bits and pieces. Learning to play poker. Playing for clothing instead of coin, which, she was fairly certain, wasn’t how poker was actually played. And the brandy, which she’d quite enjoyed. It seemed, in addition to picking up the ability to curse, Elizabeth also had a taste for spirits. She flipped open the quilt to observe her naked body. There was no change in her appearance. No overt evidence Elizabeth had changed in such a monumental way. But she was different.

  “Kelso?” He wasn’t in the room. She glanced back to the empty side of the bed. No indent of his head against the pillow. The quilt on his side of the bed hadn’t even been disturbed. Hurt he hadn’t even slept in the same bed with her last night and more than a little annoyed, she sat up, clutching the quilt to her nakedness. “Kelso?”

  A knock sounded sharply on the door.

  “Come.” It couldn’t be Kelso. He wouldn’t have knocked.

  Mabel arrived, blushing, begging her pardon for disturbing Elizabeth. “I’m sorry, my l
ady.” She held up a pitcher full of steaming water. “Lord Kelso asks that you wash up and I’m to help you dress. You’re to leave within the hour for London.”

  Kelso should have told her such a thing himself. If he had actually slept next to her last night. “I see.”

  “Lord Kelso also asked me to give you this.” A small twist of paper lay in the maid’s palm. “For your headache.”

  “How kind.” She hadn’t thought Kelso would desert her so soon. She’d rather hoped she’d wake up in his arms. A flash of panic assailed her.

  Breathe, Elizabeth.

  He wouldn’t leave her in Gretna Green. Kelso had promised to deliver her to Sutton. Elizabeth trusted he would do so. But he would eventually leave her. Despite last night. It was only she’d thought—

  “I’m to bring you tea and something to eat.” Mabel placed the pitcher next to a basin on the dresser. “I’ll be back momentarily, Lady Kelso.” She bustled out the door.

  It took her a moment to remember that she was Lady Kelso. “Thank you, Mabel.”

  Lady Kelso. She was now safe from Mother and Langford. And any other lecherous gentleman in London. And wasn’t that why she’d married Kelso in the first place? She brushed her teeth and splashed water on her face, unsettled that her wedding and the consummation had transpired exactly the way she and Kelso had agreed upon.

  Mabel appeared again with a breakfast tray containing tea, steaming hot biscuits, fresh butter and honey. A note sat beside the tea pot, the masculine scrawl of her name across the front announcing who the sender was.

  “Thank you, Mabel.” Elizabeth combed and braided her hair before sitting down to her breakfast. She buttered a biscuit and slathered the top with honey, ignoring the square of paper. Anger bubbled up inside her.

  He’d allowed her to wake up alone. After their wedding night. He hadn’t even shared the bed with her to sleep. As if he couldn’t bear to spend one more minute in her company once he’d completed his task. It hurt far more than it should have. What if she’d needed comfort…or something?

  Taking a defiant bite of her biscuit she stared at the note, hesitant about reading the contents. Finally, she snatched up the piece of paper and ripped it open.

  Elizabeth,

  I trust you had a restful night. Please prepare yourself for the journey to London. We will go straight through, stopping only to change horses.

  Eat all your biscuits.

  S

  Elizabeth stood and walked over to the fire. What had she expected? A love sonnet? Spence could easily have written the note to Porter, it was so impersonal. She tossed the note into the flames, feeling utterly dismissed and completely abandoned. Walking back over to the chair, she sat down and picked up another biscuit, pouring honey across the top before sinking her teeth into the flaky dough. There were three more biscuits and Elizabeth was quite hungry.

  Kelso had told her to eat all her biscuits. And she would. Slowly.

  Her husband could wait.

  * * *

  Kelso tapped his foot impatiently as Elizabeth came down the stairs, looking up at her descent with annoyance. Deep shadows lingered beneath his eyes and there were lines around his mouth. Wherever her husband had spent the night, he’d not been comfortable.

  The thought should have pleased her, but it didn’t.

  “Good Morning,” she said, determined to remain courteous despite her anger.

  “Lady Kelso,” he greeted her politely, if a trifle coldly. His handsome face was an aloof mask once more. There was no sign of the lover from the previous night nor any indication at all that they were more than casual acquaintances.

  “You’ve kept me waiting,” he drawled. “For over an hour.”

  “My apologies, Lord Kelso.” If she had something to throw at his arrogant, unfeeling head she would have. He’d left her to sleep alone on their wedding night. What sort of groom does that to his bride?

  One who has married for convenience only.

  “You did tell me to eat all my biscuits. There were quite a few.” She walked past him to the waiting coach, pausing only to thank Mrs. Campbell who stood waiting to see them off.

  Kelso merely grunted and followed her out. She’d been hoping for a sarcastic comment or perhaps a terrible pun. She’d received neither.

  Porter held out his hand to assist Elizabeth into the coach and she took it with very little discomfort. She settled herself and pulled the blankets up around her, not bothering to look at Kelso as he sat across from her.

  Dread had settled low in her stomach, mixing with the tea and biscuits in a most unpleasant way. She’d known Kelso didn’t marry her out of an excess of affection, but surely, if nothing else, they were friends of a sort. Companions. His dismissal hurt her deeply, especially after his consideration last night. She had to know.

  “Why didn’t you stay with me?” She met the cool amber gaze, twisting the wedding band against her finger.

  Spence leaned back in his seat and shrugged. “I didn’t want to.”

  The answer hurt her more than she’d anticipated. She took a ragged breath, feeling as if Kelso had slapped her. “I see.”

  Kelso’s eyes glinted in the light of the coach. “Did you expect me to behave this morning like the couple I saw about Mrs. Campbell’s yesterday? Giggling and mooning over you?”

  “The Hughes.” Elizabeth’s temples pounded both from the brandy the night before and this conversation.

  “We married for practical reasons, Elizabeth. Why would you expect me to act in such a way?”

  She suddenly longed for him to call her his ‘little nun’. That small fact unsettled Elizabeth as much as anything else. “No, I didn’t expect—”

  “You snore dreadfully, by the way,” he said, interrupting her. “I had no desire to spend the night with a foghorn in my ear and so I sought other accommodations.”

  Elizabeth swallowed, careful not to show how much he’d hurt her. “I completely understand.”

  “Good. Then there isn’t any reason to discuss it further. We both enjoyed ourselves last night. I think you’ll make an admirable poker player,” Kelso said with a smile before closing his eyes, effectively putting an end to any further conversation.

  An admirable poker player?

  Elizabeth pressed her forehead to the coach window, watching as Gretna Green faded from sight. She reminded herself of all the reasons she’d agreed to marry Kelso, none of which were making her feel any better.

  All she could think of was the most important night of her life had been reduced to nothing more than a card game.

  22

  The coach lurched toward their destination, each stop providing barely enough time to change horses and see to their personal needs. Elizabeth hadn’t been able to sleep, not with Spence in the seat across from her. Twenty-four hours trapped in a coach with the icy regard of her husband was quite enough. His lean form was sprawled over the seat, the toe of his boots poking beneath her skirts no matter how far she moved from him. Kelso had not spoken to her since leaving Gretna Green. Nor had she attempted conversation.

  One boot shifted against her skirts. “We’re very close to London,” he finally said, not bothering to open his eyes and look at her. “One more stop to change horses before we arrive.”

  Her stomach growled loudly, wishing for more than the bread and bit of cheese she’d had at their last stop.

  “I’ll make sure to procure you something more substantial to eat when we stop. I’ve no interest in listening to your stomach for the rest of the journey.”

  “Yes,” she retorted. “I’m sure it’s as annoying as my snoring.”

  His eyes snapped open, running over her form huddled in the moth-eaten blankets. “I should have purchased you a cloak. You’re cold.”

  “No more so than you,” she said, pursing her lips tight, afraid her anger would spill out at any moment.

  His amber eyes narrowed to slits. “Here. Take my coat.” He began to take off the garment, unmindful of th
e pistol strapped to his side.

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No. Thank you.” She’d freeze to death before she took his bloody coat.

  “You’re being stubborn.”

  “Not at all, my lord. Your kindness is appreciated,” sarcasm dripped from her words. “I assure you I’m fine.”

  Kelso’s jaw hardened. “As you wish, Lady Kelso.” His gloved fingers, strong and graceful, tapped in a rhythm against one thigh.

  Elizabeth turned her attention to the passing countryside. She was pleased to have annoyed him.

  Darkness had given way to a pink-gray haze. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the promise of the dawn was there at the edge of the horizon. Elizabeth was relieved they would stop once more. She needed to refresh herself and stretch her legs. All thoughts of Kelso aside, she was nervous about appearing before her family unannounced. And married. Even worse, bearing news of Jeanette Reynolds. “How much farther to London?”

  “Three or four more hours,” Kelso said. “After our last stop.” His features were still aloof and distant as he regarded her; he was likely still irritated she hadn’t taken his coat.

  Well, she was still furious at being deserted immediately after surrendering her virginity under the premise that she snored.

  As the coach rolled to a stop, Elizabeth put her hands on the door. They had been in the coach for quite a while and her needs required immediate attention.

  “I’ll escort you inside.” Kelso’s words were no more than a dark rasp as he reached for the handle. He was scowling, his eyes inscrutable. Had Elizabeth not been acquainted with him previously and had not spent the night in his arms, she would have been intimidated. Unfortunately for Kelso, Elizabeth had lost her fear of him days ago. And she was not about to allow it to return.

  “There isn’t another coach in the yard. Just a farmer’s cart. There’s no one about. I’m in no need of your escort.” The small establishment before her was little more than a tavern with a room or two to let. Glancing upward, she saw a curl of smoke leave the chimney.