Sutton's Spinster: A Wicked Winters Spin-off Series (The Sinful Suttons Book 1)

by Scarlett Scott

  Lady Octavia Alexander paced the new and well-appointed carpets of Jasper Sutton’s lair, ignoring the broad-shouldered guard glowering at her every movement. Not much had changed within these four walls since she had last dared to venture here. The same massive desk with its carved lion legs—albeit the addition of a recent repair, which rendered a slight difference in the wood staining on the front panel. Still the same sconces on the walls. The same sense of the forbidden. The same scent of him: smoke and sin and sandalwood, running through it all like the currents in the sea.

  Tempting, dangerous, forbidden.

  But never mind that. She straightened her shoulders and paced with greater intent as she awaited his return.

  Octavia knew a great deal about Jasper Sutton.

  Or at least, she thought she had.

  Ruthless head of his family, leader of London’s wickedest gaming hell The Sinner’s Palace, rogue, deliriously wonderful kisser, and now one more to add to the frustrating list…

  Father.

  Jasper Sutton was a father.

  He had twin daughters, Miss Anne and Miss Elizabeth, who shared his coal-dark hair and hazel eyes and the divot in his chin. They were adorable, far too forthright, and the girlish images of their father. She had taken one look at them and longed to bundle them up and take them home with her. A foolish, ridiculous urge, that. Octavia was a dedicated spinster. She had no home of her own, nor any funds. She loved children. But she preferred her freedom—that which seemed to remain forever beyond her clawing grasp—more.

  “Mr. Sutton says you’re to go, my lady, and you’ll be going before ‘e returns, or it ain’t going to go well for neither of us.”

  The low, brusque voice sliced through her wildly flitting thoughts.

  On a sigh, she flicked her glance back to Hugh, whose surname she still had yet to learn, despite the number of times he had been tasked with escorting her home. Yes, Jasper Sutton was fond of ordering her to leave his family’s gaming hell.

  And Octavia? Well, she was fond of ignoring him until she had no other choice save fleeing. Much as she had on the last occasion she had sought his aid here. When he had kissed her…

  Nay!

  Do not think of that now.

  You must not.

  She would only lose her determination if she did.

  Casting his guard a pointed frown, she prodded him, “Mister…”

  “You,” he said.

  Actually, what he had said was Hugh, sans the H. Which sounded just like you.

  She blinked. “Mr. Hugh—”

  “Ain’t no mister, milady. ‘ugh is all.”

  Blasted man. Every bit as stubborn as his master. Every bit as devoid of mirth.

  But her quarrel with Hugh hardly mattered when the door to Sutton’s office flew open and the man himself stalked over the threshold.

  His hazel glare swept over her as he stopped, his unforgiving countenance grim and harsh and lethally handsome all at once. “My lady. I told you to be gone.”

  She shrugged, feeling bold.

  And desperate.

  “And I decided not to be.”

  “Not to be what?” he drawled. “Sane?”

  “How ungracious of you,” she clipped in return. “Not to be gone. I require an audience with you, Mr. Sutton.”

  “Forgive me, sir,” Hugh interjected, sounding remarkably apologetic for a man of his brutish nature. “I know you said she ‘ad to go, but milady wouldn’t leave.”

  Octavia wondered, not for the first time, just what it was that Jasper Sutton used to keep his men so very loyal. Money? Force? Threats? Everything all at once? With a man of Sutton’s reputation, anything was possible.

  Sutton’s eyes narrowed to piercing slits. Without casting a glance in his manservant’s direction, he issued a stinging dismissal. “Out, Hugh.”

  “But sir—”

  “Go,” Sutton interrupted. “I will find you when I need you.”

  Hugh did not hesitate in his retreat. The door clicked closed on his brawny back. And then Octavia was alone.

  Alone with Jasper Sutton.

  Mayhap he has a wife, she reminded herself. And he had kissed her. Scoundrel! She ought to box his ears. Why had he never mentioned his daughters before? The questions tumbled over each other in her mind, regardless of how many times she told herself she should not concern herself with the complexities of his life.

  He prowled toward her, his expression implacable, silken menace in every step of his pursuit. “I thought we ‘ad a square thing, my lady.”

  A square thing? It did not bode well when he eschewed the h on had. Or that he had reverted to speaking cant. She knew him well enough to understand that.

  Octavia was not fearful of Jasper Sutton, and yet, she found herself retreating as he neared. Until her bottom connected with the edge of his desk, stopping her. He paused before her, bracing his palms on either side of the desk.

  Trapping her.

  His heat seared her through the layers of fabric separating her body from his.

  “I…” she faltered, her gaze dipping to his cruelly beautiful mouth. “I needed to speak with you.”

  He made a low sound that was somewhere between a growl and a hum. “You needed to speak with me?”

  He managed to make the question sound…sultry.

  Sensual.

  The memory of his lips on hers returned, taunting her before she hastily banished it.

  “Yes,” she forced herself to say, running her tongue over her suddenly dry lips. “As I said.”

  “Ah, but do you recall, Lady Octavia, what I told you when you last intruded upon my gaming establishment?” His head dipped.

  He was taller than she was. Taller than most gentlemen in her acquaintance. Broad of shoulder, lean of hip. Beneath his coat, the arms caging her to his desk appeared strong and vital. She settled her hands on them against her better judgment.

  Judgment? Who was she fooling?

  She had none when it came to this man.

  Else, why would she be here?

  “I must confess that I have tried to forget the conversation that passed between us when I last paid you a call,” she countered.

  Like Jasper Sutton, she was blustering.

  Daring.

  “Allow me to remind you, milady.” Hazel eyes burned into hers as he leaned even nearer. “I told you that this ain’t a place for ladies. That you are trouble. That you need to stay in Mayfair where you belong. This addle-headed notion of yours to use The Sinner’s Palace to find scandal and gossip ain’t going to work.”

  He had also kissed her.

  Had he forgotten?

  Octavia told herself whether or not he had was no concern of hers.

  “Do you have a wife, Mr. Sutton?” she blurted.

  He quirked an inky brow. “Why should you care?”

  Why indeed?

  “You kissed me.” Her cheeks went hot as she uttered the words, much to her dismay.

  “Did I?” His tone was mocking.

  Her heart thumped. “Yes, you did.”

  Did he truly kiss so many ladies that he could not remember whom he had wooed? The question was sobering. But nevertheless, it did nothing to quell the desire to have that wicked mouth on hers once more.

  What was wrong with her? She had not ventured to The Sinner’s Palace for more kisses from its enigmatic owner.

  “Be careful whom you carry that tale to, Lady Octavia. I’d hate to be the cause of your ruin.” His lips curved in small smile.

  A taunting smile.

  And that was when the truth occurred to her.

  Jasper Sutton was trying to fluster her. To make her uncomfortable. He wanted her to flee.

  She summoned a smile of her own. “Are you worried about my reputation, Mr. Sutton? How gentlemanly of you.”

  “You and I both know I ain’t a gentleman.”

  No, he was not.

  Unfortunately, that was one of the qualities he possessed that rendered him so
alluring to Octavia.

  Also, his handsome face, sinful lips, and heavens above, those hands of his. There was something about Jasper Sutton’s hands that never failed to incite a fury of longing within her. Just the knowledge that they were there, splayed on the desk, mere inches from her, was enough to make a familiar, unwanted heat unfurl in her belly.

  “You did not answer my question,” she reminded him. “Are you married?”

  “Not yet,” he said cryptically.

  The heat within turned to ice.

  “Betrothed?” she guessed next.

  “Not yet,” came the same response as the first.

  She frowned, trying to make sense of what he had said. “Do you intend to be soon, then?”

  “What’s this, milady?” His grin deepened. “You found your way to The Sinner’s Palace to ask about who I’m dabbing it up with?”

  She did not know what dabbing it up meant, and she was sure that was best.

  “Of course not,” she hastened to say, struggling to remind herself of the true reason for her call. “Your daughters…”

  “Their mother abandoned them a fortnight ago,” he explained, his voice forbidding.

  “How terrible.” Her heart gave a pang for the girls.

  “I take care of my own,” he said, his voice a low, assertive rasp. “Now that I know they’re mine, I’ll keep them safe.”

  She believed him. Jasper Sutton was many things, but he was also a man who cared deeply for his family. She knew as much from her ties to the Winter family. Sutton’s sister Caro had recently married Gavin Winter, and Octavia’s sister Mirabel had wed Damian “Demon” Winter. The connections between Octavia and Jasper were distant and yet close enough. It sounded as if he had only learned of the existence of the twins when they had been abandoned. What a shock it must have been for him and the girls both.

  But the circumstances in which Jasper Sutton and his daughters found themselves mired was not her problem. And after today, she would not need to return to The Sinner’s Palace for any reason. Provided that he agreed to her new plan, that was.

  Why did the thought make her heart pang anew?

  “I am certain you will be a good father to them, Sutton,” she told him.

  He stilled. “I am not as certain, but I’ll do my damnedest. Now, tell me why you’ve come to me despite my orders to keep your pretty little nose out of The Sinner’s Palace.”

  Here it was at last. Her hands were still on his arms, her fingers clenching on his muscles of their own accord.

  She took a deep breath. “I want you to be my partner.”

  Chapter 2

  Jasper searched the dark eyes, which were fringed with luxurious, long ebony lashes. Surely he had misheard Lady Octavia.

  “Partner?” he repeated, part of him incredulous.

  Part of him intrigued despite himself.

  She never failed to surprise him.

  “In my journal,” she added, nodding as if everything she was saying made utter sense.

  And mayhap it did. To her.

  The woman was queer in the attic.

  “Your journal?”

  Her smile returned, and damn her if his cock didn’t harden at the combination of her nearness, her hands on him, and the way those siren’s lips curved.

  “Yes,” she said agreeably.

  “There ain’t a journal, Lady Octavia.”

  “Not yet.” Once more, she nodded. “But there will be.”

  “No,” he said slowly, “what there will be is a visit to your sister and her husband from me, explaining to them you’ve been running wild all across the East End.”

  “That would be a dreadful idea, Sutton.”

  The bold minx.

  He was not sure which he wanted to do more, haul her into his arms and cart her from his office, or kiss her.

  So he kissed her.

  His mind told him not to. His mouth, however, would not be denied the plump softness of her lips beneath his one more time.

  Yes, that was all. One more time before he never saw her again.

  Her hands slid up his arms to settle on his shoulders, and instead of pushing him away, she clung to him. Pulled him nearer. Held him in a tight embrace, her breasts crushed to his chest, as she kissed him back. The sweetest sound of surrender fled her throat. Her lips parted. He took advantage of the opportunity, his tongue slipping into her mouth.

  Everything sweet. Everything he wanted more of. That was what she tasted like. Stupidity and lust and luxury and sin laced with a hint of tea. That, too.

  He was the one between the two of them who was touched in the head. Not her. Because kissing her was madness. It could lead to nowhere good. He could not bed her. Innocents were not his sort. Neither were ladies.

  And yet…

  Her fingers sank into his hair, and her legs parted beneath her gown, opening for him to step between them. Jasper knew when to obey and accept an invitation. His rigid cock nestled into her belly. He could not keep himself from touching her. His vow to only allow himself a kiss was abandoned as he found her waist, her curves perfectly molded for his palms. Such softness. The cool fabric beneath his hands burned with her warmth.

  She was not wearing stays.

  The knowledge made him hungrier. Bolder. He slid a hand to cup her breast. Just one. A plump handful. Ah, Satan’s teeth. This had been a wretched idea. What was he doing? Her nipple was hard. Prodding his thumb. He rubbed over it in teasing swirls that had her moaning into their kiss.

  There was nothing to stop him from lifting her onto his desk, raising her skirts, and burying himself in the welcoming wetness of her drenched cunny.

  Nothing except the repeated knock on the door, which finally pierced the haze of need surrounding him.

  On a groan, Jasper tore his mouth from hers and stepped away.

  “Sir?”

  It was Randall’s voice calling from the other side of the portal. An unlikely savior arriving in timely fashion to stop him from committing further folly. Trying to quell his ragged breathing, Jasper told himself to look away from the sight of Lady Octavia, cheeks flushed, mouth dark red from his kisses, looking wonderfully in need of ravishing.

  He bit out a curse and dragged a hand through his hair to distract himself. “What is it, Randall?”

  “Beaumont is at the tables, sir. Thought you’d like to know,” his guard called.

  Of course he wanted to know. The viscount was a terrible gambler. Or at least, he had been until a month ago, when his luck appeared to have changed. Suddenly, Beaumont scarcely ever lost. He was flush in funds.

  Jasper always knew the sort of cove who cheated.

  And Beaumont was one. But catching the bastard at his games was another matter.

  He cleared his throat. “Thank you for alerting me. I will be out shortly.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Jasper waited until the sounds of his man’s heavy footfalls could be heard departing. “Hugh will see you ‘ome,” he told Lady Octavia grimly, despising himself for his lack of control where she was concerned. “Do not return.”

  “But you did not listen to my proposal,” she objected.

  “There ain’t going to be one,” he snapped. “And if there were, my answer would be the same. No.”

  He turned away from her lest he give in to the temptation to stay. To kiss her again. To raise that hem to her waist. To run his hand along her pale inner thighs until his fingers found the center of her and he parted her slick folds to…

  No.

  He forced himself to stop the thoughts.

  Being Lady Octavia Alexander and the human equivalent of a splinter in his big toe, she followed him, clinging to his coat sleeve in an effort to make him remain in the chamber. “You do not know what I was going to ask, Sutton.”

  He shrugged away from her touch, trying to ignore the fresh wave of longing that washed over him. “Don’t need to.”

  Today was not the day he was going to drown, curse her. Besides, he had bu
siness to attend to. The Sinner’s Palace was his family’s livelihood. He could not spend all night kissing a virgin in his office while Viscount Beaumont fleeced them blind.

  “I have more than half the funds required to begin my journal,” she said in a rush as he reached the door. “All I need is a small investment from you to help at the beginning. I will split all the revenue with you.”

  He turned back to her. “I mean what I say, my lady. You do not belong here. There are print shops with scandalous caricatures aplenty.”

  “But there is nothing like the journal I wish to start,” she countered, confidence in her expression and her tone.

  Like every nib, she thought the world was hers for the taking.

  Because it was.

  But Jasper Sutton wasn’t.

  And she would do best to remember that.

  “Forget about this nonsense, Lady Octavia,” he said, his voice emerging harsher than he had intended. “I ain’t giving you funds. There won’t be a journal. The East End is no place for you. Go back to Mayfair and your drawing rooms and balls and your gossiping matrons.”

  “But—”

  “If you return, I’ll assume it’s because you want to finish what we started here,” he interrupted. “I won’t stop at kisses next time, milady. I won’t stop until your legs are around my waist and I’m deep inside you, giving you the thorough fucking you’ve been begging for ever since you first came to The Sinner’s Palace. Understand?”

  Her eyes were wide. Her countenance shocked. He had been crude. But it had been necessary. Giving her a mocking bow, he stalked from the room, before bellowing for Hugh to take her home.

  “Lord grant me patience for females,” he muttered under his breath as he went in search of the cheating viscount and the hazard tables.

  They had recently blown into his life like an unforgiving storm.

  “Where have you been?”

  The familiar voice of her sister had Octavia jumping and emitting an undignified squeak as she attempted to steal back into her chamber. Pressing a hand to her heart, she whirled about to find Mirabel watching her with an assessing, narrow-eyed gaze.