Virtue and Vice

by Kimberly Brody

  It was during their stay in France she had met Paul for the first time. To a young girl of just ten years, he’d seemed an Adonis with his golden looks and his kindness. He’d often snuck her sweets and told her jokes to make her laugh.

  Yet, as she’d grown, to Izzy’s absolute delight, he’d looked at her differently. Instead of indulging her as a child, he’d treated her like a woman. A woman he’d clearly desired. His gentle teasing and thoughtful gifts turned into lingering glances and sweet caresses.

  She’d been eighteen. He’d been off on the King’s business and she hadn’t seen him in quite a while. The night he returned, he had taken her for a walk in the privy garden. Her father had turned a blind eye, probably because they’d known each other so long and he trusted Paul to behave.

  And he had. Well, except for the less than chaste kiss he’d given her that evening in a darkened corner. A kiss that made it apparent he’d begun to court her with marriage in mind. She’d adored him as a child, but as a woman, she loved him fiercely. From that moment on, she belonged to Paul. She’d lived to see him during those stolen moments between his travels, lived for his kisses, lived for every bit of attention he gave her.

  So how could she have these feelings for Julian now? She couldn’t have developed serious affection for him, for they barely knew each other. And he was not of her class, he was forbidden to her, even if she decided she wanted him. Which she never would, because she loved Paul.

  Not quite ready to return to Rendstell manor and face Belinda’s inquiries, Izzy strolled along the riverbank until she found a dry spot upon which to sit and contemplate.

  She conjured up an image of Paul the way he’d looked when last she’d seen him. He’d been dressed in the full regalia of a true Cavalier, with his petticoat breeches, over stockings tucked into his black cavalier boots and an outrageous purple doublet, complete with a cap adorned with a large feather. Yet, Izzy had never seen anyone more spectacular, no man more handsome.

  Paul, as a younger son of a nobleman, didn’t have much money, no inheritance to speak of, as most nobles had spent their money on the Royalist cause. Paul had fought for Charles, yes, because he was loyal, but too, it was widely expected Charles would handsomely reward all those who had remained loyal when he was restored.

  Paul no longer wished to wait. After almost a decade of exile, it began to look as though Charles was never going to claim his throne. The King’s cousin, Prince Rupert, had sailed off to the West Indies as a buccaneer, and Paul wished to follow his example. Under Rupert he would prey on English shipping interests, take what money he could right from the grasp of Cromwell’s coffers, make investments, and establish some kind of fortune for himself. The night he told her the news, Izzy was heartbroken.

  “Don’t cry, Ma Petite, I’ll not be gone long,” he took her hand, wrapping his warm fingers around hers.

  “But you’ll be in such danger!”

  He chuckled. “No more than I face now, looked upon as a traitor by my own country. And I swear, should the King be restored, I’ll come home with all haste.”

  She was afraid to ask the question burning at her day and night, for he’d courted her, but never said the words. She forced the question from her lips. “Will we marry when you return?”

  He didn’t answer, but tightened his grip on her hands. “Right now I have nothing to my name, Izzy. Nothing to offer a woman as fine as you. I’m going after Rupert to make a fortune for myself. And do you know what I’ll do with that fortune when I return?”

  She shook her head in breathless anticipation. “Nay, what will you do?”

  “I shall buy you your very own house, anywhere you desire. We will live in luxury and I will buy you only the very best money can buy.”

  Her heart soared. He did want to marry her! He just didn’t feel worthy of her without a fortune to stand behind.

  “Paul, I don’t care if we live as paupers as long as we are together. You don’t need to go off and do this for me!”

  “Ah, my sweet,” he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You are every man’s most fervent dream. But I need to do this for myself, as well.”

  She began to argue again, but he silenced her with a finger over her lips. “I must go, Izzy. And the time will fly by, you’ll see. Will you wait for me?”

  Holding back tears, she cried, “You know I will wait for you forever!”

  “That’s a good girl.” He smiled and his eyes dropped to her mouth. His voice turned husky. “Give me a goodbye kiss, then.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, and standing on her tiptoes, leaned up to fuse her mouth to his. She put all the love and adoration she felt for him into that kiss, hoping he would remember it when he was lonely. Hoping it would speed him back to her someday soon.

  And then he left, leaving her shattered.

  King Charles had been restored, yet Paul had not returned. Why? her anguished heart whispered. Could it be he no longer wanted her? That his absence was deliberate?

  A twig snapped, drawing her out of her bittersweet memories. She whipped about to find Belinda standing behind her.

  “Are you well, Izzy?” Belinda’s voice was soft with worry.

  “I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

  Belinda lowered herself to the grass beside her.

  “I’m so confused, Bel.”

  “Has something happened?” Her cousin looked concerned.

  “Julian must go away for a few days. And already the thought of not seeing him tomorrow makes me miserable.”

  It almost looked as if Belinda was suppressing a smile. That couldn’t be right, surely?

  “’Tis only a few days, that can’t be what’s got you so upset?”

  “How is Julian to take my virtue if he isn’t here?”

  Izzy gave in at the look of disbelief that crossed Belinda’s face. “Fine! It’s Paul I’m keep thinking of how disloyal I’ve been to Paul! I shouldn’t miss any man but Paul.”

  Her cousin sighed, and Izzy wasn’t sure if it was because Belinda was reminded of their uncomfortable conversation of yesterday, or for other reasons. “Izzy, you haven’t seen Paul in nearly three years now. Perhaps he won’t return. Will you pine for him for the rest of your days, then?”

  “He promised he’d return. He’s always kept his promises to me. And I promised I would wait for him.” She picked a piece of grass out of the ground, tearing it into pieces with her fingers. What if Belinda is right? What if Paul doesn’t come back to me?

  “You’ve changed so very much during these years, Izzy. What if Paul has too? What if it’s not love you still feel for him, but affection and obligation? What then?”

  Could she have stopped loving Paul? Her eighteen-year-old self would have answered with an emphatic no. But now? Could she feel such excitement and attraction to Julian if she was still in love? With no answer apparent, she shrugged.

  “Well, your Julian is very handsome. And, ‘tis not so unusual to feel strongly about someone you are close to, even if you love someone else.”

  “But that seems so disloyal!”

  “Usually I’d say ‘tis only disloyal if you act on those feelings. But that’s your exact intent in this instance, so in a way one might say you are being disloyal. But you have no plans to continue to see Julian once he’s taken your virtue. You’ll be absolved of your obligation of the marital contract to the viscount, and there would be no reason to carry on with Julian.”

  Izzy started. If she no longer had to marry Viscount Royston, she’d have no further need to see Julian. Though it shouldn’t, the idea of it dismayed her, confusing her all the more.

  “Am I being disloyal, Bel?” she whispered, afraid to know the answer.

  “Do you have a choice? If marrying Paul is your ultimate goal, then continuing with Julian seems the best way forward, does it not? You might feel disloyal for a time, but in the end you’ll gain what you truly desire. I’m certain of it.” Belinda put her hand over Izzy’s, st
opping her from obliterating more grass.

  Izzy stared in surprise. “You think I should continue with my plan then?”

  Belinda sighed. “Nay. I wish you would acquiesce to your father’s wishes and marry the viscount. I’d also have you trust me, because I believe in the end you’ll be very happy with the man your father chose for you. But knowing you as I do, I know you will not, and I only want you to be happy. Take the opportunity to find your happiness, Izzy.”

  The weight of the world seemed lifted from Izzy’s shoulders with Belinda’s support. She threw her arms around her surprised cousin and hugged her tight, giggling with her when they fell back onto the grass together.

  “Does that mean you will help me?” Izzy asked, breathless, when they stopped laughing and rose to their feet.

  “I will aid you.”

  “You’ll never truly know how much I appreciate you, Bel.”

  Chapter 9

  Two weeks until the wedding…

  It was going to be a miserable couple of weeks. Surely Ram wouldn’t be sane by the time his wedding day came round.

  He’d only managed to stay away from Cornwall for a se’nnight. Only seven days. One agonizing week during which thoughts of Izzy had haunted him, making him long to be back here in the country, in that cottage, trapped with her for hours on that small pallet, laughing and talking and making love to her. He felt a need to brand himself upon her, make such an impression upon each of her senses she’d have no notion of hunting up another rogue willing to defile her before their wedding day.

  She was smart, she was sassy, she wore breeches, Bigod! And pranced about in them as though she were as comfortable in them as she was in her own skin. None of which were practical traits to look for in his future countess, yet he wanted her exactly the way she was.

  It was insanity. There was no other way to explain it. How else had he gone from looking forward to a May Day romp in the grass with a pretty girl, to wanting that girl as his wife? Aye, he’d gone utterly daft, surely, and more, he was happy to remain so!

  He paced before the hut, looking every so often to Mercury for signs that the stallion’s ears had perked up at a sound, or anything that might signify he’d soon see Izzy crest the hill.

  When she finally did, his breath caught in his throat. In relief, aye, but also because she was stunning. Wearing the same breeches and shirt as she had done last week, she’d chosen to leave her hair down, and it flowed in sparkling magnificence down her back. She’d left it down for him, he was sure of it.

  Without realizing it, he had covered half the distance to meet her as she approached. “You came,” he blurted, feeling suddenly foolish and overeager. Get control, Ram, you aren’t a boy of fourteen!

  “Good morn,” she smiled, before adding “I’ve come each day since you left, hoping you might return sooner.”

  She’d waited for him every day? His adoration for her grew nearly by the moment. “I told you at least seven days, love. You didn’t have to come every day.”

  She shrugged one delicate shoulder. “It never hurts to hope.” She blushed prettily and Ram’s heart thudded.

  “Shall we go inside?” he motioned to the hut. “I’ve brought lunch.”

  Her eyes lit. “’Twould be lovely.”

  Holding the door open for her, he motioned for her to enter, leaning in to inhale her delicate scent as she passed. Lavender. He would forever think of Izzy when he smelled lavender.

  She took a seat at the small table, reaching for the basket he’d had Cook fill with lunch food. It had been difficult when he explained the needed simple fare. No fancy cheeses or haunches of meat. It was important Izzy not become suspicious of his identity before the wedding.

  “This is so thoughtful,” she murmured as she peeled back the blanket inside and unpacked items onto the table. Cook hadn’t let him down. She’d included pasties, a meal any good Cornish man would eat any day. Two apples followed the pasties, along with the wine they never drank last time.

  As she set the food out for each of them and poured the wine, she made conversation. “Did you complete your business, then?”

  “What do you mean, Sweetheart?”

  “Whatever it was you had to leave Cornwall for. I assumed your employer needed you to travel with or for him?”

  Ram almost choked on a bite of pasty. Obviously, he’d never considered telling her where he’d gone or even why he’d gone. So it was easiest to agree with the excuse she’d provided. And she’d unwittingly provided him with a reason for another absence. “Aye,” he answered vaguely. “And aye, everything went fine, though I must leave again, soon.”

  Dismay colored her features, and though he hated to upset her, pleasure blossomed outwards from his chest. She didn’t want him to go. He longed to tell her who he really was and that in two weeks they’d never be apart again. But discretion was ever the better part of valor and it was best not to upset the scheme he and Belinda had set in motion.

  She reached for an apple and took a bite out of it. Ram watched, fascinated, as some of the succulent juice from the fruit trailed down her chin. Giggling, she reached for a napkin, but he put his hand on her arm, halting her. He now knew exactly how Eve tempted Adam in the Garden of Eden with that damned apple. If Eve had been anything like Izzy, Adam never stood a chance.

  Standing, he moved around the table to her side, bending so he could trace the trail of juice left by the apple with his tongue. She held utterly still as he licked every bit of the sweetness from her chin, then followed the trail up to her lips. With the tip of his tongue he traced first her top lip, stopping to delve into the creases at the corners, and then the bottom one, before tugging the whole of it into his mouth, gently nibbling.

  With a small cry she let the apple fall from her hand to land with a thud on the table. Then her arms were wound about his neck, her luscious body pressed against him, kissing him back with a passion that sent instant heat flaring through him.

  He knew he should stop, he wouldn’t take Izzy’s virginity before their wedding day and he didn’t know how far he could go before he reached his breaking point. But there was no force on Earth at that moment that could compel him to take his mouth from hers.

  Her searching hands were already tugging his shirt from his breeches. Warm palms slid underneath the fabric to skim over the flesh of his chest, causing goose bumps to rise in their wake. When her fingernail trailed over one of his taut nipples, his control snapped.

  He swept the contents of the table clear with one arm, paying no heed to the sound of basket and porcelain crashing to the floor. Lifting her by the waist, he set her upon the table’s edge. Her legs parted as they dangled over the side, and he moved between them, feeling the scorching heat from her even through his breeches. That this woman burned for him alone made him the luckiest man alive

  They moved in unison, he reaching for her shirt just as she raised her arms to aid him in the removal of the article of clothing. At the sight of her pale, rounded breasts, his mouth went dry. Her nipples hardened under his avid gaze and he licked his lips. He bent to taste one, her small whimper of pleasure like a symphony to his ears.

  But today she was impatient. He was surprised to feel her hands at the waistband of his breeches. He ought to stop her, but God, he wanted her hands on him! Just the thought of her handling his cock sent blood rushing to the body part in question, and he thickened and lengthened, hardening even more.

  He was about to put a stop to her exploration when she cupped him through his breeches. Coherent thought fled as she caressed his length, tentatively feeling and exploring. He was lost.

  Aiding her in her sensual quest, he tugged at his breeches, letting them fall to the ground around his ankles. Her eyes widened as his straining shaft sprung free, and he cursed low. What if the sight of his rampant cock repulsed her? He should have slowly introduced her to his body. She was, after all, a virgin. But damn, the woman tested the limits of his control unlike anything or anyone ever had bef
ore!

  With a look on her face that could only be described as awe, she reached one finger out and stroked him, tentatively at first and then with growing enthusiasm. He should have known his Izzy was different. She wrapped an unsure hand around him at the base then slid her hand along his length slowly, exploring the different contours with hand and fingertips. She held him with a loose grip, but still, her touch thrilled him more than he could have ever dreamed. The urge to tear off her breeches and bury himself in her hot, satiny sheath nearly overwhelmed his control, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to remain still beneath her exploration.

  Her fingers found the head of his shaft and she used one finger to circle the tiny hole at the tip, smoothing the drop of moisture she found there around and around, using it to lubricate both her hand and his cock.

  When her fingers grasped him again and slid down to the base with a surer, firmer touch, the friction and tightness of her grip tore a hoarse groan from him.

  He glanced at her face. She was wholly focused upon her study, her plump lips parted as she breathed heavily. He could see the power she wielded over him excited her, so he held still and continued to let her do as she wished.

  Her fingers found one of his testicles. When she cupped it in her hand his cock bucked and her eyes widened, first with surprise, then with delight. Gently she rolled it with her fingers, feeling the texture, testing the size, tormenting him. Just as he was about to make her cease, her free hand grasped his cock again and stroked, while the other, still holding his testicle, cradled it in her palm. He threw his head back, awed by her innocent sensuality and her complete lack of self-consciousness and guile. She was a rare gem. He reveled in the pleasure she bestowed upon him, never wanting it to end.

  Nevertheless, he knew it must. He broke the contact of her hands from his most sensitive body parts, intending to bring them both back under control. Except, he was thinking with the wrong head, and instead of saying the words he should, he leaned in for her mouth again and she obliged without reserve. He cupped her breasts, kneading gently, tugging at her erect nipples. He yearned to feel her flesh against his and despite his best intentions he unfastened her breeches and slid them down her legs. When he leaned in to kiss her again, the movement brought his shaft into contact with the soft flesh of her belly. His teeth clenched as he struggled for control.