Virtue and Vice

by Kimberly Brody

  Not only had she not offered even a token protest, now she leaned against him. He appreciated a woman who didn’t play games, who didn’t beckon him closer with one hand while keeping him at a distance with the other.

  An urge to kiss her so overwhelmed him, he didn’t resist it. Bending his head toward her, he brushed his lips across hers once, then again, before retreating a step back. If he didn’t take control of himself, he’d have her upstairs in a room with her skirts thrown over her head before she could even voice a protest, and they’d miss the May Day merriment. For himself, well, he wouldn’t mind so much, but she seemed so excited by the prospect of the celebrations he couldn’t take that away from her.

  “Come,” he murmured, “let’s find some refreshment and then we’ll join the revelry.”

  He tossed a shilling at a stable lad and left Mercury in his care, then led Izzy around the building to the entrance of the inn.

  ***

  Izzy whirled from the gentle kiss. This man took such liberties, and they’d only just met! But then, didn’t that make him the perfect man for what she planned? She’d been kissed before, of course, but even Paul had not been so bold as to do so without first asking permission.

  She shook her head to clear her thoughts. There was no way she would let her marital dilemma interfere with this day. If she came to that bridge she’d cross it, but for now she would enjoy herself. An entire day of freedom stretched before her in this strange new town with an exciting man at her side. A day without chaperones and companions to keep her in line and curtail her enthusiasm. She could hardly wait!

  She followed Julian to the door of the inn, noting his impeccable manners as he held it open for her to precede him inside. Delicious smells wafted around her as she stepped within the old timber framed building with its charming low ceilings and distinctive medieval feel. Though the weather was on the warmer side, a cheerful fire burned in the hearth, chasing away any lingering early morning chill. The scent of roasting capons and freshly baked bread assailed her senses. Her stomach rumbled in response, a reminder of how fast she’d fled her home this morning lest she be caught by her cousin Belinda on the way out.

  The inn was crowded. Mixed with the tantalizing aroma of food was the smell of unwashed humanity arising from the close press of bodies as they celebrated. Wrinkling her nose, she drank it all in with fascination. Julian took the lead, shouldering his way through the throng of people until he found an empty table. Holding out a rickety wooden chair, he waited until she was settled before seating himself across from her.

  A plump serving wench ambled over to the table. Though dressed in a manner similar to Izzy, the woman weighed at least two stone more, and her blouse was much snugger, forcing her ample bosom to overflow the fabric. Her pretty, rounded face and cornflower blue eyes lit with licentious interest as she took Julian’s measure. With a saucy wink the barmaid settled a hip against the table, then leaned toward Julian, impeding Izzy’s view of him

  The urge to grab the wench’s lanky yellow hair and tear her away from Julian consumed Izzy. She clenched her fists beneath the table instead, confused by the unusual urge. Good Lord, she’d kept Paul’s attention from even the most experienced and beautiful of courtesans, surely she wasn’t insecure over the crude charms of a serving wench who looked like a dairy maid?

  “Me name’s Wanda. Wot’s yer pleasure, handsome?” The wench leaned even closer. In another instant she’d be in his lap! There was no doubt Julian was getting an eyeful of her bountiful cleavage. “I can serve any need ye have.”

  Gritting her teeth, Izzy willed herself to be calm.

  She might be an innocent, but she recognized a proposition when she heard one, and she’d be damned if she’d let this woman get her hands on Julian before she, herself, had her chance with him.

  As it turned out, her concern was for naught. An expression of distaste crossed Julian’s face as he leaned around the woman to meet Izzy’s gaze. “The lady and I will each take a pasty and a mug of ale.” With a quick flick of a coin in Wanda’s direction, he dismissed her. “Be quick about it.”

  Wanda scowled, but took the shilling from the table willingly enough and hurried off.

  Julian turned his gaze upon Izzy and again that strange, feverish feeling crept over her skin. She fervently hoped she wasn’t becoming ill. Illness would wreak havoc on her well-laid plans.

  “So, Izzy, tell me, from whence do you hail?” Julian’s smoky grey eyes were riveted upon her.

  Recovering her equilibrium, she thought about his question, debating how much to reveal. “I live not far from Wadebridge.” That was honest enough.

  “You live with your family then, in the village?”

  “I live only with my mother.”

  He seemed to relax a tiny bit at her words. Had he perhaps thought she was married? Or was he concerned she had a big, angry papa?

  “Your mother did not wish to partake in the festivities?”

  “I’m afraid Mama suffers from beliefs of a more puritanical persuasion.” She forced the lie through her lips. “She doesn’t know I have come.” At least that was the truth.

  “Ah, I see. And how do you know your secret shall be safe with me.”

  “I do not, Sir. I must rely on you to be a gentleman.” In all truth, she prayed he wouldn’t act the gentleman! She was depending on it, in fact!

  “Hmm. I shall keep your secret, but I will require payment in exchange.”

  “What sort of payment?”

  “I’ve not decided yet, but I’ll know it at some time during the day and you will pay my price.”

  He sent her a lazy wink just as Wanda returned to the table with their food and drink, and Izzy tingled at the attention he bestowed upon her. Which was ridiculous. She’d been flirted with by dukes, counts, barons, and all manner of men in between and never experienced a reaction like this! Not even Paul had ever made her hot, yet shivery at the same time.

  Wanda thumped a trencher before her and Izzy concentrated on the food and drink, no longer worried the serving wench might be competition. Parched from her journey, she took a draught of ale. She wasn’t prepared for the sour taste of the stuff, as she usually drank wine or sherry. It was hard to keep from choking on the bitter brew.

  Julian didn’t seem to have the same problem. He took a large swallow, and the sight of the muscles of his throat as they worked mesmerized her. With a hard swallow of her own, she turned her attention to the pasty, which in contrast to the ale, was delicious. Before she knew it, she had eaten every bite and licked her fingers clean. She’d even begun to quaff ale to wash down her food, becoming accustomed to the taste of it.

  Glancing up from the empty trencher, she found Julian’s eyes locked on her, staring with what could only be described as hunger. Once again, heat rose in her face under his close scrutiny.

  At a loss for words, relief coursed through her when the door to the pub opened and the sounds of merriment carried through. She craned her neck to see what was happening.

  “Come.” Julian commanded, but his tone was soft. “Let’s join the fun, shall we?” He stood, holding out his hand. Without hesitation she placed her palm in his, relishing that strange jolt again as his large fingers weaved between her much smaller ones. As impossible as it seemed, she already felt safe with him as he led her to the door.

  Outside, the world had erupted into chaos. Throngs of people filled the narrow streets, chanting and singing, and the crowd seemed to travel in a singular direction. Helpless to prevent being dragged along, she didn’t fight it, letting the horde of people carry her forward. Julian’s firm grip anchored her to him.

  The sun was high in the sky as they passed shops and homes covered with bluebells, forget-me-nots, and cowslip in honor of the merry day, and reached their destination, the site of the Maypole. It was an enormous thing, larger than any she had ever seen. Ribbons of every color adorned the pole and children laughed and skipped around it with glee. Almost every girl wore a garlan
d of flowers in her hair and Izzy felt out of place, wishing she too had one of the beautiful wreaths to adorn her hair. Julian noticed as well, for he gave a gentle tug on her hand and led her to a vendor selling a varied assortment of the festive accessory stacked upon a pole with thin wooden beams.

  “Give me your cap,” Julian shouted above the noise of the revelers.

  She yanked off her white cap with delight, shaking her head to let her hair tumble down her back. Catching Julian’s gaze, she could have sworn his eyes smoldered, but the look disappeared as he took her cap and chuckled to himself. “Which would you like?”

  She chose a beautiful garland made of purple lavender and heather, entwined around the darkest of twigs. Julian handed the vendor a coin, then placed the garland on her head. Once satisfied it was secure, he ran both hands through the length of her hair. The light touch made her shiver.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered against her ear, then gently tugged her back toward the maypole.

  That peculiar warmth filled her again but she had no time to think on it, as Julian took her into his arms and they began a lively country dance. Years of nothing but proper, courtly dances fell away as she found the rhythm of the music. As her feet performed the steps, it seemed as though she’d danced this way only yesterday, rather than almost a decade ago.

  They flew round and round, circling the maypole in abandon with the other revelers. She felt like a princess in a fairy tale, being wooed by her very own prince. Excitement filled her. Everything that should have been forbidden to her —the dancing, the singing, the drinking, and most of all, the soul-deep desire to be in the arms of this man, a perfect stranger— intoxicated instead.

  They danced and sang for what seemed hours, stopping only every while for Julian to fetch a mug of ale, which they shared to quench their thirst. Around them people sang refrains of the May Day Song,

  “With the merry ring, adieu the merry spring,

  For summer is acome unto day,

  How happy is the little bird that merrily doth sing

  In the merry morning of May.”

  The singing stopped when the prettiest young maids from the town lined up as if on cue. Fascinated, Izzy turned to watch the ceremony, leaning back against Julian’s chest for support. His arms came around her waist, pulling her tighter to him then leaned his chin on her shoulder. Even in this large group of people who stood with them, Julian’s embrace was so intimate it was as if they were the only two people who existed in that place, in that moment.

  The crowd roared its agreement as a lovely maiden was chosen May Queen and they hefted her into a flower-bedecked chair to be paraded about. The girl chosen was young, but pretty, and Izzy clapped her approval along with the rest of the crowd.

  The sound of drums filled the air. Izzy twisted her head and saw a procession making its way down the street at a slow pace. Soon a costumed creature came into sight, the likes of which Izzy had never seen before. It resembled a horse of sorts, yet it was draped in a black cape and wore a hideous mask. It moved in rhythm to the drums in a bizarre sort of dance. A young man dressed in gay colors danced around the thing, poking it occasionally with a stick. Izzy tilted her head back against Julian’s shoulder and met his gaze, confounded.

  He bent his head so his lips were near her ear. “’Tis the ‘Obby ‘Oss!”

  A feminine squeal drew her attention from Julian and she looked in time to see the ‘Obby ‘Oss dance its way toward a young woman. Delighted, Izzy watched as the girl laughed and evaded its clutches, though the next woman was not so lucky. The creature drew it’s victim beneath the cape and gyrated as the crowd looked on and cheered.

  As it made its way closer, the beat of the drums filled Izzy, enflaming her, and she began to move in time with the sound. So engrossed in the music, she didn’t notice the ‘Obby ‘Oss until it was almost atop her. Just as she was about to be enfolded under the black cape, strong hands grabbed her, lifting her away.

  Julian set her down with her back against a building, a wide grin upon his face. “’Tis said if you are caught beneath the black cape you’ll fall pregnant within the year.”

  His words immediately led her thoughts down the path of sin; thoughts no virtuous maiden ought to have. But wasn’t sin the exact reason she’d come here today? Julian’s sensual lips transfixed her at the reminder. He sobered as if he realized the direction her thoughts had taken. Suddenly his eyes blazed and his nostrils flared.

  “I’ll take my payment now,” He growled.

  In the next moment, he pinned her against the wall of a building with his hard body, while his lips molded to hers. His kiss stole every thought, until Izzy had no recollection of what payment he spoke of.

  His scent and taste filled every sense and Izzy felt so alive, so emboldened. Her heart matched the rhythm of the pounding drums and she dared not hold back. As his mouth swept over hers, Izzy relinquished control. Her arms went about his neck; she buried her fingers into his thick mane and returned the kiss with everything she had.

  His mouth consumed and demanded. His teeth nibbled at her lips and then his tongue forced her mouth to part and swept inside, capturing her gasp of pleasure at the bold intrusion. His body pressed against her, all hard angles and flat planes, and she melted into him.

  She’d been kissed before, but nothing on Earth could have prepared her for this!

  She was on fire.

  Chapter 3

  Ram was on fire.

  Need exploded through him as she responded to his scorching kiss, answering the demands of his hungry mouth as fervently as he made them. Her lips were sweetness and sin, a simultaneous essence of innocence and ale. The taste of her drove him wild, sent the blood flowing from every part of his body straight to his loins as he pressed her harder against the wall, settling his knee between her thighs.

  His hands tangled in her hair as he cradled her head, knocking the garland flying to the ground. His mouth trailed from her lips down the slender column of her throat, licking at the vein there that pulsed with the force of her desire. She gasped, and the breathy, mewling sound arrowed straight into him. His cock jumped against her soft belly. He ground his hips against hers.

  Her hands moved down his back, pulling him closer. Returning to her mouth, his tongue dueled with hers. He’d never get enough of this woman. Sliding his hands down her side, then back up again, he cupped a breast in each palm while he raised the leg between hers so she could ride his thigh. She gasped again but made no protest, and he began to knead her breasts through her thin blouse. Their lush firmness filled his hands to perfection, as though her body had been made for him. He squeezed her nipples gently, rolling them between the forefinger and thumb of each hand as his mouth suckled on her lower lip. She moaned aloud against his ear, writhing under his touch, hips arching as she pleasured herself against him. The need to bury himself deep inside her luscious little body drove him wild.

  He froze. What was he doing? He was not an untried youth who couldn’t keep from taking a woman up against a wall! He tore his hands and mouth from her, leaning his forehead against the cold stone of the building, hearing the raw sound of his own panting mixed with hers.

  Lifting his head, he stared down at the girl in his arms. This slip of femininity threatened to unman him, right there on the street, practically in plain view of what could only be described as a mob of revelers. Surely he hadn’t been so out of control since he’d had his first woman.

  She breathed heavily, her chest heaving with exertion. With extreme difficulty, he tore his gaze from those perfect breasts, trying not to linger on the sight of her impudent nipples straining against the fabric of her gown. He forced himself to meet her gaze. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, still caught in the heat of the moment. If he didn’t regain control, he was going to take her against the building, revelers be damned.

  He stroked a finger down her cheek and her lips parted with obvious surprise. Well, he’d had quite the shock himself.

  Had he ev
er responded to a woman so powerfully? He doubted it.

  Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. The simple motion speared him with desire all over again.

  “Shall we get some refreshments?” The hoarseness of his own voice startled him. He needed something, anything, to distract him from how delectable she looked standing there, her hair disheveled, her lips plump and moist from his kisses, begging for more. She looked wanton and adorable and beautiful as hell. He wanted her exactly like this beneath him, in his bed.

  How much more of the festivities would she want to see? They didn’t officially end until midnight, but if they left now he could find a comfortable inn in Wadebridge and hole up with her for the evening. Finding a room here in Padstow so late would be difficult, if not utterly impossible.

  It didn’t matter. He only needed to find a private room with a bed, and he needed to find it soon.

  She seemed to shake herself out of the kiss-induced stupor, and threw a tremulous smile in his direction. “I should very much like a drink.”

  With a curt nod he took her hand, then led her into the street and back amidst the throng. He found a vendor and bought another tankard of ale, which she shyly accepted. Her hand trembled as she took the mug.

  That kiss had left him parched as well, so he purchased another. Just as he was about to ask if she was amenable to leaving for Wadebridge now, her attention was caught again by the festivities. She seemed entranced as a man on stilts went by while juggling. Ram sighed. ‘Twas obvious she still very much wanted to partake of the celebrations. He would have to keep control over his lust a while longer.

  They soon found themselves back at the village green, where dancers still moved to the beat of the music. Archery competitions had been set up and he stood beside her to watch the men show off their skills with the bow.

  As the sky began to darken, the festivities started to wind down. Exhausted children fell asleep on their feet and parents hurried to get them home to their beds. Ram and Izzy took a quick meal, but not wanting to miss the last of the entertainment, they drank more than they ate. He grabbed her hand, hurrying to catch the culmination of the day, when the ‘Obby ‘Oss was put back into his stable at the Golden Lion, to await next year’s celebration.