A Heart So Wicked (The Dark Regency Series Book 6)

by Chasity Bowlin

  “Not seen, at least not clearly. Felt. Do not ask me to explain it, for I can’t. I simply know that there are times when there is not another living soul present in the room and yet I am not alone there.”

  “But you have seen something?”

  He stared at the road, a muscle ticking in his jaw until finally he answered. “A dark, shadowy thing… skulking about in corners and lurking in the halls. It’s like a heavy weight on your chest when it is present. Have you not seen or felt it?”

  Just once, she thought. But she understood what he meant when he said ‘felt’. There was something in that house that hovered just out of sight, just out of reach, always watching, waiting, lurking. When she’d come to Rosedale Hall the day he’d proposed their strange arrangement, she’d seen a dark figure in the upstairs window. She’d convinced herself it had to be his manservant, but then they’d been alone that day in the house afterward, so clearly it had not been. “I’m not certain.”

  “You’ve seen it then… or you’d have just said no. This presence is dangerous, Katherine. I cannot tell you how I know that, only that I believe it to be true. And so did Mrs. Webb.”

  “You said we had naught to fear from the dead,” she reminded him. “That it was other people who should be guarded against!”

  “I was wrong.”

  Kit let that sink in, the ominous tone of his voice lending a gravity to his words that unsettled her. This man—tall and strong, powerful both physically and socially—was afraid. Her hand came up and touched the heavy stone dangling from the cord at her neck. Could it really offer any protection? While sitting in Nan’s tiny cottage, it had seemed possible. Now, as they approached the estate, doubt was creeping in.

  “Spirits can’t actually harm us… we simply have to figure out what it is that they want! Once we’ve given it to them, then they’ll go away,” she reasoned.

  “And what if what they want is to be alive?” he asked.

  It was a valid question and one that left her stumped for an answer. There was nothing within their power to do about that. “The next time the blonde woman appears, I mean to ask her. I do not feel that she is malevolent.”

  “You didn’t feel that Cavendish was either,” he pointed out.

  Kit drew back as if she’d been struck. He didn’t know. No one knew the full extent of what Ned had done, of what he’d put her through. To have him toss that accusation so casually at her stung. Perhaps because he was the first person in a very long time to treat her as something other than the cast off lover and reckless idiot who’d ruined her reputation and her life in pursuit of a man who claimed not to want her.

  He sighed again. “I didn’t mean it that way… I didn’t mean to imply that it was your fault. Only to say that sometimes it is possible for people, living or dead, to conceal their true nature from us.”

  “I think you did mean it that way, my lord. You talk a pretty piece about not holding my past over my head, but you do and you have from the moment we met. You used it and my circumstances to blackmail me into marrying you. I may have had no choice in the matter, either financially or socially if I had any hope of being anything other than a drudge in my cousin’s home, but I’ll not lie to myself about it and neither should you. Were I not ruined, I would not be sitting here next to you… I would not be married to a man who has so little care for those who have wronged me in the past that he would make it seem I were somehow responsible for the damage they inflicted!”

  There was no chance for him to respond. During their heated exchange, the horses had continued their plodding pace up the drive until they halted of their own volition before the doors. As Lytton secured the reins, Kit jumped down from the sleigh, slipping a bit in the snow and ice. Malcolm reached down to steady her from within the vehicle, but she pushed his hands away. “I require no assistance from you!”

  “You’ll break your fool neck!”

  “And what concern is that of yours? I’m apparently too much of a dolt to know a villain when I see one… and since I’ve wed you, I’m inclined to agree with your assessment at the moment!” She snapped the last word and with a swish of her borrowed cloak, marched toward the house.

  Malcolm watched her stalk away, her anger evident in the exaggerated sway of her hips as she stomped off at a pace that made it more than evident she wished to be anywhere he was not. He hadn’t meant to offend her, and if she were a reasonable woman, if such a thing existed, she’d understand that.

  Another thought entered his mind, perhaps she had chosen to take offense, perhaps she wished to fight with him to avoid their wedding night. That wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t. If he failed to convince Mooney and Drake that the marriage was real, and they’d been quite clear that the only evidence they’d be willing to accept was the actual or impending birth of an heir, he was still at risk to lose everything.

  Seeing to the horses in the bitter cold, did not improve his temper. She was hotheaded, foul tempered, and so suspicious minded that everything he said or did could be twisted by her. He didn’t mean to begin his marriage by walking on eggshells or he’d be doing so for the rest of his days.

  Once the animals were taken care of, he made the cold trek back to the house from the stables. Like any woman, in a fit of temper, she’d have gone to her room. Taking the stairs two at a time, he meant to confront her and be done with it. As he neared the top of the stairs, he heard a commotion not from her room but from his.

  Tossing the door wide, he stepped inside to see Lytton arranging Katherine’s meager possessions in the wardrobe next to his own. He also saw Katherine protesting angrily.

  “There is no need for his lordship and I to share a room, Lytton. That isn’t how it’s done amongst the ton. Surely, you’re aware of that!” Katherine said, clearly striving for a calmer tone than she’d used with him.

  “I do understand, my lady, but given the limited staffing we have here at this time and the fact that chopping wood for the fires has fallen upon his lordship, it seems only prudent to use as few rooms as possible,” Lytton replied, unflappable as always.

  “But I’d be sharing my room with Vera. Where will she be?”

  “I’ve given Miss Webb a room below stairs, just off the kitchen. It’ll be warmed by the kitchen fires and will be quite cozy without using nearly as much wood… as for young Master Joseph, he’s staying with me for the moment. As a newly married couple, you’ll be wanting privacy and a boy his age shouldn’t be wandering alone in a house such as this.”

  Malcolm simply leaned against the doorframe, his anger deflating in the face of his valet’s impeccable handling of the situation. Katherine would remain in his chamber and they’d move forward with their farce of a marriage regardless of any misgivings either of them had. He’d simply have to explain to her what was at stake. Having been forced into poverty, she’d know the value of money better than anyone.

  Watching his new bride being utterly confounded by his valet, he waited patiently until Lytton had finished his task and excused himself from the room.

  “Are you here to claim your husbandly rights?” she demanded as soon as the door had closed.

  “Are you so eager to complete your wifely duties, then?” he shot back. Once again, with little more than opening her mouth, she’d goaded him into being defensive and petty. It irritated him just how easily she could get beneath his skin.

  “I’m not eager, my lord, but I’d just as soon not have it hanging over my head like Damocles’ sword!”

  “What a flattering comparison… let’s hope I can live up to it,” he snarked under his breath. Her frown of confusion reminded him once again that while she was not a virgin, his bride was more innocent than her reputation painted her to be.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  Malcolm leaned his head back against the wall and for a brief moment considered repetitively pounding it against the stone. Finally, when he’d regained his composure, and didn’t want to alternately laugh at or throttle her, he s
poke. “That isn’t precisely how it works… or at the very least it shouldn’t be. I’ve no intention of taking you to bed when we’re incapable of doing anything more than sniping at one another.”

  Her chin came up and she looked ready and eager to lob another volley in his direction.

  “We are strangers to one another,” he continued, preventing the deployment of her barbs, “And we will naturally, in the course of getting to know one another, occasionally be at odds. If it were within my power to postpone the consummation of our marriage until you felt more comfortable with me—.”

  “Until we are more comfortable with one another you mean,” she corrected.

  “No. I do not mean that at all. I’d have gladly consummated our union in advance of the union of itself. Either yesterday afternoon, the night before in the library, or any other time I have been in your presence… except when you’re kicking me, of course. That does tend to cool one’s ardor.”

  She didn’t speak, but her lips did quirk and a sound escaped her that might have been a muffled giggle. Instead, she gave a curt nod as if he should continue.

  “Waiting is a luxury that we do not have, Katherine… You married me to have financial security. I married you to obtain the full benefit of my inheritance, not simply the estate but the funds to put it right. The solicitors at Mooney & Drake have stated that the only thing they will consider absolute proof of the validity of our union is an heir.”

  Malcolm studied her carefully as she sank down onto the small trunk at the foot of the bed. Her brow furrowed and she appeared to be deep in thought. Finally, she uttered. “I see. In essence then, we have bought and paid for one another… We are both whores.”

  He shrugged. “I have been called worse. I have been guilty of worse.”

  “And is there a time frame with in which we must make our happy announcement?”

  “No,” Malcolm replied softly. “But I have a limited amount of funds… enough to see you clothed properly and to hire servants to put the house to rights as best as possible. I could maintain that for six months… possibly a year. But after that time, we’d be begging from Peter to pay Paul.”

  “So you’re suggesting we make every attempt possible to procreate and that we should do so as soon as possible.”

  He shrugged again. “I’m simply making you aware of the full extent of our situation. What you choose to do about it is entirely up to you… Naturally, I’d hate to have gone to such lengths to procure my inheritance only to lose it now because you and I cannot stop snapping at one another.”

  “Thank you for keeping me informed, my lord,” she said stiffly.

  Malcolm stood up from his slouched position against the wall. “I’ll leave you to consider your options. You have a great deal to think about. If you elect to go forward with things, you may let me know at dinner tonight.”

  “There is no need for further consideration, my lord. The decision is a simple one, really… I cannot go back to my cousin’s home and we cannot possibly begin to repair this one without adequate funds. I’ve just escaped one impoverished existence in drudgery. I’ll not willfully put myself into another.”

  “I see. Then I will see you tonight.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, my lord, I don’t wish to wait. The longer I have to think of it, the worse my imaginings make it… so if we could just get on with it—.”

  Malcolm didn’t need to be asked twice.

  Chapter 16

  Kit didn’t know precisely what she’d expected from him. Her only experience with carnal matters was limited to the horrific fumbling of Ned Cavendish and the interrupted but artful seduction he’d introduced her to the day before. To have him cross the distance between them in two long strides and simply scoop her up in his arms was not at all what she’d anticipated, if in fact, she’d had the sense to anticipate anything at all.

  He held her firmly, his arms tight around her, crushed to him. And yet she could have pushed him away. She knew that. It was an intrinsic thing, that faith in him. Perhaps because he’d allowed it before, perhaps because against all odds, she’d somehow learned to judge the true nature of a man. If she protested, if she gave even a hint that she was unwilling, he would let her go.

  Of course, that did not make her an active participant. He kissed her, his lips moving on hers as they had before—firm, yet gentle, demanding and tantalizing all at once. She wanted to kiss him back, in spite of everything. Yet, uncertainty plagued her. She hadn’t the faintest clue what to do, so she simply permitted his kissing of her and savored the exquisite sensations that he created.

  The texture of his lips against hers, the gentle glide of his tongue along the seam of her lips, the rough rasp of his whiskers against her skin were scintillating. And all of that was juxtaposed against the hard press of his chest and the way his hands cupped over the curve of her waist, his fingers splaying to grip her hips with a proprietary confidence that both thrilled and frightened her.

  He pulled back from her. “It helps if you kiss me back.”

  “It helps if one knows how,” Kit replied sharply.

  He didn’t laugh at her, but there was a slight quirk to his lips as he said, “It’s simple enough… if you like what I am doing to you, do it in return.”

  Uncertain of how to respond to that, Kit gave a curt nod and waited for him to begin again. But it wasn’t her lips he kissed that time. Instead, he pressed his mouth against the column of her throat, trailing soft kisses along the tender skin there. The feel of his whiskers rasping over her flesh, the occasional fleeting touch of his tongue, made her shiver. But it was the heat that built inside her, warmth burgeoning within her and growing until she felt she’d literally catch fire from it; that left her stunned. As he continued to explore her with his mouth, those wicked lips tracing a path over her collarbone, back up her neck and then to the shell of her ear, she found that she couldn’t breathe, much less articulate in intelligible speech what she was feeling. It overwhelmed her. It consumed her. And in some ways, it frightened her—not him, and not what he was doing, but what he could make her feel, that within a matter of seconds, her primal response to him had rendered her senseless.

  As his hands moved from her waist, up to her breasts, her own eagerness shocked her. She wanted him to touch her, she wanted to feel what she had the day before and so much more. And then she wrapped her arms around him, holding him closer, savoring the heat of him, the hardness of his body against hers. Her hands slid over his shoulders, down his back, and it was so different than her expectation. It was all firm muscle, unyielding beneath her touch. Looking at him, it was evident that he had the body of a man who had labored. He was not the soft, spoiled noblemen and gentry of her earlier life. He was something else altogether.

  His hands closed over her breasts, his touch gentle as he caressed her through the layers of cloth separating them. Even then, she could feel her nipples hardening to taut peaks, straining against his palms. Perhaps she was the wanton the good people of Lofton had accused her of being. When he tugged the bodice of her dress down, until only her shift shielded her breasts from his gaze, she didn’t try to stop him. It was the furthest thing from her mind in fact. But it was the kisses he’d been raining upon her neck, kisses that moved perceptibly lower, that sparked alarm.

  As his mouth closed over one hardened peak, tugging gently through the thin veil of cloth, any thought of protest vanished. The sensation was exquisite, but even that term was too mild a word for it. She hadn’t the ability to describe what she felt in that moment. It was like lightning, arcing and splitting the sky, but it happened within her. Powerful. Compelling. She was incapable of doing anything other than riding out the storm. Kit tilted her head back, welcoming his touch, eager for all that he had to show her.

  She was painfully innocent. Whatever had occurred in her past, the man involved had clearly been a clod. That thought alone kept him from rushing. He wanted her to know pleasure, but more than that, he wanted her to know th
at he would be the man to provide it. It was archaic, even animalistic, the need he felt to claim her. Not just to have her, but to possess her fully, for her to be his in every way that a woman could be. Not because he took her, but because she gave herself to him.

  With one hand, he loosened the ties of her dress, never lifting his head from the lush bounty of her breasts. The fabric slipped down, binding her arms and snagging over the generous curve of her hips. It took little coaxing to remove it entirely. Her petticoat followed and then she was clad only in her chemise and stays and one woefully inadequate pair of stockings.

  “Your cousin should be horsewhipped for allowing a relation, no matter how poor, to be clad in such sad garments.”

  She frowned at him, puzzled. “Why on earth would you think to mention Patrice at a time like this?”

  He chuckled in response. “You make an excellent point… our mouths can be put to much better use than discussing your cousin.” Malcolm lifted her up, holding her close to his chest as he moved toward the bed. He wanted to go slowly, to give her the kind of pleasure that he knew she was capable of, but he only had a finite amount of patience. The need to feel her silken thighs locked about him, to feel the welcoming heat of her body taking him in, was almost impossible to resist.

  When she was on the bed beneath him, he lifted himself onto his elbows and untied the laces of her stays, parting the constricting garment. He could see the darkened circles of her nipples through the thin fabric of her chemise. The erotic temptation she presented would not be denied. Dipping his head, he captured one nipple between his lips, laving it gently with his tongue. She arched beneath him, her head falling back and her back bowing up to offer him freer access to the flesh he craved.

  His other hand moved beneath her chemise, sliding up her leg, over her knee and then tracing a deliberate path up her inner thigh. Her legs parted, welcoming him to continue his exploration. When his fingertips brushed against the dark curls at the juncture of her thighs, she stiffened, clearly uncertain.