Virtue and Vice

by Kimberly Brody

  “Excuse me, my lord.” She murmured to Ashley. If he replied, she never heard it. She stood, rooted to the spot, until Sir Paul Huntley was upon her, reaching for her hands as he came within touching distance.

  “Izzy!” He exclaimed, squeezing her fingers. “How lovely you look tonight!”

  A hundred questions charged through her mind as she stared into the face of the man she loved. Where have you been? Why haven’t you come for me? Why could you have not arrived one week earlier?

  But try as she might, she couldn’t form the questions. “Paul.” She managed to whisper, in a voice that came out husky and low.

  His eyes kindled.

  “Come out to the garden, Izzy, where we might be private. It’s been such a long time.”

  She nodded, dumbstruck, and let him lead her outside. Thoughts of seeing the King fled her mind and all she could focus on was that her beloved had returned, and she was married to another man. Could he ever forgive her? How would she ever be able to tell him?

  He led her to a darkened corner, seeking privacy, but they were the only ones who’d ventured outside. He took her hands, pulling them both against his chest.

  “How are you, love? How are your parents and your brothers?”

  “I-I am well. My family is well too. Papa’s has regained his estates.”

  His smile was wide. “You see, ma petite? I always told you Charles would be restored and all would be well.”

  “Aye. You did.” She ached to ask why he’d stayed away so long, but couldn’t force the words through her constricted throat. All she could do was stare into his beautiful eyes.

  “Izzy.” His voice grew husky, his gazed dropped to her lips. “You’ve grown even more beautiful since last I saw you, something I did not think possible.”

  She knew with a woman’s instinct he was about to kiss her, yet there was nothing she could do to stop him. It was wrong, yes, and she hadn’t told him she was married, but she’d yearned for this man for so many long, lonely years.

  His right hand slipped around her neck and his left arm swooped around her waist, pulling her flush against his lean body. His mouth came down on hers, devouring, and she stood on tiptoe, wrapping her arms around his neck to kiss him back. She waited for the rush of sensation to overtake her as it did when Ram kissed her, but curiously, there was…nothing. Only slight pleasure as his lips caressed hers. No streaks of heat shot through her body when his tongue slid against hers. Her knees didn’t weaken. Why? Was it possible Ram ruined her for all other men?

  When Paul pulled back, a smile played about his lips. “You have not waited for me, Isabelle. I can tell by the nature of your kisses.”

  Heat spread across her face. Yet at the same time, anger built, emanating from deep within her. “I never realized I’d be waiting three years, Paul.”

  He cupped her cheek. “You are angry with me.” It was a statement, not a question. “You know I would rather die than ever cause you pain.” His fingers brushed her cheekbone in a caress filled with tenderness.

  “If you don’t remove your hands from my wife this very second, you will die.”

  Izzy gasped, jumping away from Paul as Ram’s voice invaded the private world she shared with Paul in the garden. Had he witnessed their embrace? One glance at her husband’s face told her everything she needed to know. His fury was a palpable thing; the air about him almost throbbed with it.

  Her pulse ricocheted in her veins. Why did Ram always have to catch her at the worst moment?

  Paul seemed unperturbed. He straightened slowly before turning to face the bristling man behind him. “Royston.” He nodded his head in Ram’s direction, then looked back to her. “So you are now a married woman?”

  Izzy looked into his eyes, hoping she could convey to him her sorrow and regret, yet he asked the question with only a mild curiosity that confused her. And of course now Ram knew she hadn’t told Paul of her marriage.

  Everything was such a mess.

  Ram was at her side in two long strides, sliding his powerful arm about her waist. “We are newly wed, Huntley.”

  “Many felicitations to you, then.”

  Izzy suppressed the need to scream with impotent frustration. Why was her life playing out as an enormous comedy of errors? She looked from one man to the other, taking the measure of each. The two men couldn’t be more different, with Paul’s golden beauty beside Ram’s dangerous darkness. Both men wore shades of red, though Ram wore black breeches with a deep wine colored doublet over his black tunic. A simple black feather adorned his cap. It crossed her mind that that Paul, in his scarlet apparel, looked like a court jester standing next to Ram, and she gasped at the uncharitable notion.

  “Come love, it’s time we retire for the night.” Ram nuzzled her ear, and as furious as he must be with her, of course his only intent was to antagonize Paul, but she held still. If she showed any distaste in front of Paul, she had no doubt she would suffer for it later.

  “’Tis still so early, my lord. May we stay a while longer?” She lowered her lashes and peered at her husband, trying for demure.

  It didn’t work. Nor was she particularly surprised.

  “Nay. I’ve had a long day and I seek only our bed.”

  She bristled, but held her tongue. Again, Ram spoke with the sole intent of claiming her as his before the man who stood watching them.

  She couldn’t leave yet! Paul needed to know everything that had happened. And Izzy burned with the need to discover where he’d been, to find out why he never came for her as promised. And she had yet to see the king.

  But it would not be tonight. Tonight there was a reckoning coming.

  Her shoulders sagged in defeat. “I look forward to seeing you again soon, Paul.” She risked saying with a quick glance at Ram, noting the tightened muscle in his cheek.

  “And I, you, Izzy. Good evening.”

  Paul went back inside. The only sound on the terrace was that of her harsh breathing.

  “Ram”-

  “Not a word, Isabelle. We’re leaving.” His voice rang with warning. Now was not the time to push him.

  His hand assumed its regular place wrapped around her upper arm as he led her from the terrace.

  ***

  Ram could feel Izzy trembling beneath his hand. Good. She should be afraid of what he might do. She’d led him on a merry chase, and then to top it all off, he’d tracked her to White Hall, only to find her alone on a terrace being pawed by an ex-lover. And not just any ex-lover, but one she claimed to be in love with!

  He steered her through the throngs of courtiers, managing to sidestep all invitations thrown their way, and every attempt to draw him into conversation. No doubt Izzy thought they were leaving, but he led her through the meandering, warren-like red-bricked hallways of the palace instead, until he reached a suite of rooms. Unlocking the door, he pushed her inside, then turned to relock it.

  “You have rooms here?” Her voice trembled.

  After his mad dash from Wales back to Cornwall, he’d rested for a few hours and then left again for London. He’d then proceeded to travel to every place she might conceivably be. He’d visited her father’s townhome, surprised not to find her there. He’d come to White Hall earlier in the afternoon, positive that was where she’d be, then grew concerned to find she’d never made use of his personal chambers, nor had the chamberlain plenish a chamber for herself. Stymied about her whereabouts, he’d gone to his townhome in Bishopsgate to rest and think.

  When Dexter met him at the door, Ram thought he was hearing things when the butler said, “Welcome home, my lord. My lady will be thrilled to find you’ve finally arrived.”

  He’d lost all sense of decorum in his relief. “Izzy is here?” he’d thundered.

  Dexter’s brows had creased with confusion. “Not at the moment, but aye, my lord, she’s been here for days. She told me you’d be joining her shortly.”

  He hadn’t known whether to laugh or howl. He’d traipsed halfway across the
country and back and she’d come to his very own house.

  And availed herself of the benefits of being Lady of the Manor. He’d found the bill for her new attire patiently standing on his desk and he’d laughed aloud at her audaciousness. Only his Izzy would be so bold.

  He wasn’t laughing when Dexter told him she’d left within the hour to spend another evening at White Hall. Barely rested, Ram had changed quickly into court clothing and traveled to the Palace as fast as he was able.

  And then he found her with Huntley.

  The woman had a knack for bringing out the worst in him. He turned to face her, barely maintaining his temper. “I’m going to tan your arse.”

  She gasped, her hand flying to her throat. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Oh yes,” he shrugged off his doublet and cast it aside. “I would. I shall.”

  Before she could even open her mouth to reply, he swept her into his arms and sat down on the bed, dragging her face down over his lap. He reached for her skirts, determined to move them out of the way to deliver this well-deserved punishment, despite her frantic wriggling to escape.

  As he bared her bottom, his mouth dried at the sight of her perfectly rounded backside. He heard her hoarse sob and clenched his eyes shut.

  “Ram, please. You swore never to hurt me again,” she cried.

  He dropped her skirts with regret. “So I did.” That damned vow would haunt him for the rest of his life.

  She struggled to sit, then jumped off his lap and retreated to the far side of the bed.

  “Have you any idea the worry you caused me, Isabelle?”

  “Because you feared you’d be too late and I’d go to your father before you could stop me?”

  “Nay, you little fool!” He stalked around the bed towards her, taking her shoulders in his hands. “I was out of my mind with worry, Izzy! I couldn’t find you and I imagined all sorts of terrible things that might have happened to you on the road.”

  Her lips formed a silent “oh” but no sound escaped. Frustration, relief, and anger churned in him, but her proximity proved too much of a temptation, so he lowered his head, molding his lips to hers. He expected her to struggle, but she did not. She stood still, taking his kiss as though it were a well-deserved punishment.

  He would not let her think it so. Sliding his hands into her hair, he angled her head so he could better fit his mouth to hers. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, nipping gently at the lush lower one until she opened to him. His tongue swept inside the moment she did and he felt her first tentative response to him, and it fired his blood. The kiss changed. Their tongues mated wildly and her arms lifted to reach around his neck.

  A part of him knew her response was due to the vulnerability of finding Huntley at court, and he understood and even sympathized with her for the loss and distress the encounter had caused and her need for comfort. The darker side of him was more than willing to use any advantage in the quest to launch a full sensual assault against all her senses. His hands moved down her back, reaching for the delicious backside he almost spanked moments before, and he reveled when she thrust her hips against his, though he doubted she was even cognizant of doing so.

  His hands slid round her front, splayed across her chest, dipping down over her low-cut neckline, until he was cupping her breasts through the thin silk of her gown and chemise. His finger stroked the beauty patch she’d so perfectly placed upon the swell of one plump breast, so far gone with desire he didn’t care she’d placed it there to draw the eyes of a king. His finger continued lower in a straight line. When he reached the neckline of her gown, he swept his fingertip back and forth across her décolletage, knowing her nipple lay just below the fine fabric and ached for his touch. She arched her shoulders and thrust her chest forward with a whimper, but he continued to taunt her with the light caress, enjoying the contrasting textures of soft skin and silky fabric beneath his finger. She fit herself more tightly against him and he finally gave in, sweeping his finger down, grazing her nipple ever so lightly. She gasped into his mouth and clutched his shoulders. On its return journey upward, his fingertip found her hardened nipple and circled it, over and over, his touch growing firmer until she writhed against him. Only then did he give her what she really needed, squeezing her nipple between two fingers and kneading her whole breast with his hand.

  He was in a frenzy of need. His cock grew so hard, it was almost painful. He slid his hands to her back. Ever so slowly he began to unfasten her gown, until it was loose enough to yank down, until the only barrier between his mouth and her skin was her chemise. He bent his head, taking one hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking it through the soft fabric of her undergarment. She gasped and a moan escaped her lips.

  Then, as if she suddenly came to her senses, she jerked away, crossing her arms in front of her to protect herself from his gaze. In the wake of her shyness, he experienced a sudden rush of tenderness and decided not to enlighten her with the truth. It didn’t matter what she wore or how well she covered herself. The sight of her naked body was forever imprinted on his mind.

  He shook himself out of a haze of arousal. She’d fled from him, intended to seduce a king, and gone out on a darkened garden with the man she fancied herself in love with, and he was rewarding her with pleasure!

  Now that the moment had passed, he braced for confrontation.

  “What did you think you were doing, Isabelle?”

  “What I said I would do! I meant to speak to the King and gain his help to have this marriage annulled. And I still mean to do exactly that!”

  “I’m sorry, love, but you’ll not get your way in this. You should seek your bed now, for we leave for Cornwall at first light.”

  Her eyes widened with dismay. “Oh, Ram, can we not stay for but a few days?”

  He stared in astonishment. “So you can make a fool of me by telling everyone and anyone who will listen that you want nothing more than to end our marriage? Or clap a set of horns on me with Huntley? I think not.”

  “The King is expecting me! He promised me a private audience. I must see him or he will worry.”

  Suspicion nagged at him. What had she promised to gain an audience alone with His Majesty? Nothing had happened, yet, or she’d have already explained her position to the king, but Ram knew if given the chance, Charles would promise her anything. He was not a man in the habit of denying himself a woman he desired, no matter how high he held her husband, father, or brothers in his regard. The king was never ruthless when it came to women, in fact quite the opposite. He worshipped women and fell easily and often in love, making promises he often couldn’t deliver upon. Ram would die before he allowed Izzy to expose herself to that kind of disappointment.

  “’Tis doubtful Charles will worry overmuch, Sweetheart. He’ll hear through the gossip I’ve arrived and assume I can handle any problems you might have from here on out.”

  She stamped her foot in that adorable way of hers. “He doesn’t understand you are my problem.”

  He grinned.

  “This is not funny, Ram! I don’t wish to go home yet. It’s a whole new world now that Charles is the rightful King! There are so many new people to meet and those I haven’t seen in years with whom I wish to become reacquainted.”

  “Like Paul Huntley?” The stab of jealousy brought on by the name wiped away his smile.

  “Others as well, people I’ve not seen or heard from in years! People other than Paul!” She glanced away. “Though I’ll not lie and tell you I’ve no desire to see him. He is my friend.”

  “You do realize any kind of relationship with Huntley is out of the question? I know Charles’ courtiers see nothing wrong in the sport of adultery, but I’ll not tolerate it.”

  “While we are married, I’d never dishonor you,” she declared so vehemently, he actually believed she believed that.

  But he frowned. “This is no place for a lady. Surely you’ve heard how debauched the court has become. I insist we return home.”

 
“Can I not have a few days of enjoyment before you return me to my prison?” Her eyes filled with frustrated tears and he found he wasn’t unaffected by them, which surprised the hell out of him considering the chase she’d lead him on. She made him feel like a tyrant, when all he wanted was what was best for their life together. Once their marriage was on terra firma, he’d be more than happy to bring her back to London and even Court if she so desired.

  An idea crept in, niggling at the back of his mind, refusing to leave him alone, so he contemplated it. He’d be a bastard if he used her desires to take advantage of their situation, but then rationalized it was better it be he than Charles.

  “If I agree to let you remain in London for a few days, you must be willing to do something for me in return.”

  Her eyes widened, hope flashing through the sky-blue depths. “Of course, Ram. Anything!”

  He tried to stifle a triumphant smile, even as he felt like a cad. “If we stay in London, you will share my bed each night we are here… as a true wife.”

  The hope on her face turned to a dismay he tried not to take personally. He’d been a boor on their wedding night; she had every right to be apprehensive. But they would never move past that night if he didn’t force her to it.

  “But that’s blackmail!”

  “Nay, Izzy. It’s quid pro quo. I do something for you and in return you do something for me.”

  Her lower lip began to tremble and he moved to stand before her, lifting her face to his. “I will not hurt you again, Izzy. Have a little faith and trust and we can weather this storm. We will.”

  She stared into his eyes, hers swimming with tears she refused to let fall.

  He waited with bated breath, biting back the urge to take back his offer, if only to remove the desolation from her beautiful face.

  “I agree to your terms, my lord.”

  He stifled any outward show of exultation at her capitulation. Besides, it was a bittersweet victory. Not for a minute did he believe she wished to remain in London for any other reason than to continue pursuing a way to end their marriage. That she’d agreed to do something that terrified her so much spoke to how wanted badly she wanted to be free of him. He felt a pang of remorse that his actions had led them to this place.