Wicked Game 02 - Something Wicked

by Olivia Fuller

  “And why is that?” Greg’s throat tightened.

  “Because I want to officially ask her to court, of course.”

  “Oh.” Greg slowly moved his head from side to side. “I don’t know about…”

  “What? You don’t think she’d go for someone like me? She appears to be thoroughly enjoying my company as of late…”

  “Mary’s not really the… ‘courting’ type I’m afraid…”

  “Then I suppose I shall just have to ask her to marry me instead!”

  “What?” Greg felt all of the blood drain from his face. “Are you mad? You’ve known her barely more than a week!”

  Brad looked very pleased with himself and it was making Greg angry. “That’s more than enough time to fall in love. When you know, you know, right?”

  “I’ve known her for a decade and…” Greg shook his head.

  “And what?” Brad asked with a raised brow.

  “And I know that she’s not the marrying type either.”

  “Then what type is she? One week’s time or not, I feel as if I’ve gotten a fairly decent understanding of her.”

  And Greg knew that Brad was right. A lot could happen in a week. It had taken less time than that for Greg to grow tired of all the games. One minute he was living life to the fullest and the next, his life didn’t feel so full after all. He knew the same would happen to Mary someday. He’d always hoped for it. At least he thought he had. Because now that it was happening there was a part of him that wasn’t ready. There was a part of him that didn’t want anything to change.

  But it now appeared it was too late for that. One short week and it was too late. It was so obvious that something had changed in Mary’s character this week, something so significant, that even Priscilla had taken note. That said volumes.

  And he knew he was going to lose her. His best friend, his companion, his most powerful soul-mate.

  His stomach flipped and turned and jumped inside of him. A strange pressure was building up just under his breast bone. It was growing and exploding out in waves to every part of his body. He couldn’t feel his extremities but at the same time, somehow, he could. He stretched out his hands, curling his fingers back and forth as he looked at them. It was as if the energy beating through him was made of two contradicting parts, hot and cold all at the same time. And it felt… bloody wonderful.

  Hot and cold, he suddenly realized. Goddamn it! Now? After all this time now?

  He pinched his nose and took several deep breaths.

  “Are you alright?” Brad asked curiously.

  Greg set his jaw. “You truly mean to do this?”

  “Yes,” Brad said plainly. “And I think she will say yes.”

  And before Greg could stop himself—before he could think of another way to handle his feelings, or the situation, or even figure out what he would do after this moment—he did the most despicable thing he had ever done in his life.

  “Then I’m afraid, old friend,” Greg heard his voice say as if he was outside of his body, “there is something that you must know first.”

  Chapter 7

  Fall 1811

  “University is not—”

  “Forever?” Mary sniffed and twisted her mouth. “I do say you’d feel differently if you were the one being left behind.”

  “I’m not ‘leaving you behind.’ This isn’t some trip I’m taking that I’m excluding you from. This is education. This is my duty. This is…” Greg shook his head as he exhaled sharply from his nose and looked down at his feet.

  Mary got the feeling that he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying more than he was trying to convince her.

  “I know that, Greg. I know you’re not leaving me. I’m just saying that’s how it feels.”

  “Well, whatever it is, I don’t like upsetting you,” he said dolefully. “But as I just said, this is most definitely not forever. Nor is it good bye! I honestly look forward to any spare moment in which I can return home to visit.” He smiled warmly.

  “Oh.” She felt the skin on her face become warmer and she blinked in a vain attempt to clear the blush from her cheeks. “You say that now. But I’m sure you will find…” she twisted her mouth wryly, “better things to do in your spare time than come home to visit me.”

  Mary wished with all of her heart that Greg meant what he said but she knew very well that a life of hedonism was sure to occupy his early days at University. And while the thought of him leaving that life just to come home and visit her made her feel all tingly and hot inside, she tried hard not to make it an expectation.

  She sighed.

  “Better things? Well, that’s not…”

  But Greg trailed off and waved his hand with a scoff. Then he crossed his arms, sat back on the bench, and avoided her gaze. He was obviously aware of exactly what she was thinking and he almost looked embarrassed. But he didn’t dispute the idea.

  “Do you think you’ll like University?” Mary asked quickly, changing the subject.

  “I’m sure that I will. Well, I’m sure that I’ll like it enough, anyway…”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The curriculum is something that I’m looking forward to.”

  Mary laughed. “You always have loved your books.”

  “Yes,” Greg smiled. “And then I’m sure I’ll enjoy my classmates and making new friendships, but other than that…” Greg shrugged.

  “What?”

  “I’m just not sure if it will be that interesting.”

  “You don’t think University will be interesting?” Mary asked with raised brow.

  “What could possibly be more interesting than you?” Greg said with a sincere smile. He was trying to make her feel better and it was working.

  She sensed a pleasant twinge in her belly and for a moment she felt as if everything was right with the world. “Interesting is not what I’m worried about,” she teased, not even really sure what she meant by it.

  Mary reached over to playfully shove Greg, but when she touched his side she felt the twinge again so instead of shoving him she squeezed his arm. She let her hand sit there then, softly in the warm and comfortable crook of his arm, while the moment pulsed away through their veins.

  From this instant on, she decided that nothing could ruin this moment for her, except maybe the cloud filled sky.

  Mary scowled as she leaned back on the bench and looked upward. This particular spot in the garden behind Greg’s London residence had been a favorite of hers almost as long as she’d known Greg. It was a place he’d once shared with his father and Greg had shared it with her during her first visit years ago. The lush greenery, the fragrant and abundant flowers, the soothing sound of water in the fountains, and the warm, inviting sun were enough to make her forget that anything besides beauty existed in the world. Mary had instantly fallen in love with the garden, especially the way the sun flowed over and through it all.

  Yes. Most of all she loved the feel of the sun. She ran her fingers along the worn stone bench as she drank up the light and the heat. It set her on fire from the inside out, like a kindling that suddenly burst into flames.

  She knew it sounded absurd, but the sun always seemed to shine brighter here than it did in any other place in the city, at any other time of the year. Perhaps it was the landscaping of the garden that was designed perfectly to catch the light; not too much but also not too little. Perhaps it was just her imagination. That was most likely the case. But perhaps it was the company she kept while she was here—she enjoyed that even more than the sun.

  Another absurd thought, to be sure, but it warmed her spirit nonetheless.

  Whatever the reason she loved this place—the surroundings and the company and the way it all made her feel—and she was saddened by the thought of spending less time here. Even the sun appeared to share in her overcast attitude as today of all days, it stubbornly stayed hidden behind a cluster of clouds. Not that this was particularly unusual for most places in London on
most days, but here, with him, it always felt like a different world.

  “Interesting is all that really matters,” Greg said breaking the silence. “You are all that matters.”

  “You say that now…” Mary’s voice trailed off.

  “Oh, my girl,” Greg said as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. “I will always say that. I will always feel that.”

  She felt his lips brush her forehead as they had done so many times before. It was a familiar and comforting feeling, his touch—but then she felt something that was not familiar at all. With just that one, small, ordinary touch of skin, she trembled.

  She trembled.

  And she wasn’t sure what to do.

  But then she felt him tremble too, ever so slightly, and when he didn’t move away, neither did she. He lovingly stroked her hair as they held their embrace tightly and quietly, the only sound the slow and steady rhythm of their breathing, and the soft thump of her heart echoing in her ear.

  After some time, Greg let his hold on her relax. He turned his head towards her, slowly, locking his steely gray eyes with hers. He wistfully brushed a loose hair from her face and smiled at her with such warmth that she actually felt the heat on her skin.

  Did he feel it as well?

  It was obvious, at least, that he wanted to say something but at the same time, he also didn’t want to say anything. He opened and closed his mouth several times as if any moment now he would say what he was thinking, and that was when Mary realized it. Not only was he unsure if he should say what he was thinking, he also didn’t know exactly what he was thinking.

  Instead, he lifted his hand to her face. He stretched his fingers, tentatively, towards her cheek and let them hover just above her skin. His fingertips were so close to her that even though he wasn’t actually touching her, she could feel them—she could feel him. Heat and energy pulsed out of his fingertips and touched her all the way through. He inhaled sharply and she knew that he could feel the energy as well.

  Now Mary opened her mouth but she wasn’t sure why either. Did she want to speak and if so, what did she want to say? Or did her lips have a plan all their own? The thought scared and excited her all at the same time.

  She wasn’t sure what to do or what was happening.

  But before she could figure any of that out, and before his hand could touch her skin, a ray of sun peeked through the clouds and washed across their faces.

  Greg blinked several times and rubbed his eyes. Mary scowled and closed her eyes tightly, and when she finally opened them again, something had changed. Whatever had been there just moments before was now gone. Whatever energy and heat had flowed between them and inside of them had been replaced by the warmth of the sun.

  Mary was suddenly aware of how incredibly warm it was outside, and how incredibly warm they both were. She shifted uncomfortably on the bench and so did he.

  For the first time ever, Mary cursed the sunshine.

  “Time to head inside,” Greg said evenly. It wasn’t a command but it wasn’t exactly a suggestion either. He stood up, putting what looked to be purposeful distance between them, and pulled at his collar and cravat. “It’s too bloody hot out here.”

  “Only if we can sit in your study.” Mary was barely aware of her voice leaving her body. “Your study has the best view of the garden. Just because we don’t want to feel the heat of sun right now doesn’t mean I don’t want to look at it.”

  He nodded in agreement as they headed inside.

  When they reached the study, Mary settled into a cushioned chaise lounge while Greg leaned against the wall by the window.

  “What do you think love feels like, Greg?” The question sprung spontaneously from her mouth before she had a chance to think about, so she was not surprised by the look in Greg’s eyes. The memory of what had just happened in the garden was still fresh but they only lingered on it for a moment before they each chose to let it pass.

  “Haven’t we discussed this before?” Greg asked quizzically as he tried to move along the conversation.

  “We have not,” she said plainly.

  “On the day of your mother’s wedding—”

  “I asked you something different entirely,” Mary said with a sigh. “On the day of my mother’s wedding I asked you what you thought love is. And I think I might understand the basic concept of love now. What it requires. Even what it means to love and to be in love. But this time I’m asking you what you think love feels like.” Mary put her palms together and then tapped the edges of her hands against her mouth as she thought. “Because does it even matter what love is if you can’t recognize it when it finally comes your way?”

  And just like that the light was back in Greg’s eyes. He pointed at Mary, shook his head, and smirked. “And this,” he said as he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, “is why interesting will always be the only thing that really matters.”

  Always? Mary wanted to ask. Will you always be mine… and only mine? But she wasn’t sure why she thought to ask that and so instead she said nothing at all.

  “This is a difficult question. But a fascinating one.” Greg ran his hand over his smiling mouth and she thought she heard him say “only my girl” before sitting down next to her and resting his elbows on his knees. “Love itself is a philosophy, an idea. You can ruminate on a philosophy and an idea… but I don’t suppose you can ruminate on a feeling. Love might be subjective, but it can be broken down into tangible definitions and descriptions. The feeling of love, though? That’s personal. That’s something that takes place on the inside. That’s—that’s—” Greg ran his hands through his chestnut hair with an exasperated laugh. “It seems bloody impossible, doesn’t it? Like trying to explain to someone what green looks like. It’s just bloody green!”

  “Exactly!” Mary answered with a shake of the head. “Which is exactly why I am so infatuated with this question.”

  Greg turned to Mary, his steely gray eyes now brimming with wonder. “What do you think love feels like?”

  Mary laughed. “And how am I supposed to know that? I’m the one who asked the question in the first place, remember?”

  “Well, you love me right?” Greg’s voice was silky and smooth.

  Mary blushed. “Of course I do.”

  “Well, then,” Greg moved closer to her and gave her a comforting smile. Instead she felt her heart flutter like a hummingbird. “How do I make you feel?”

  “Well,” she began. For a moment she thought about changing the subject or even lying to him rather than attempting to explain these perplexing feelings that were now flooding her. But when she took a deep breath and opened her mouth she said, “Hot and cold at the same time.”

  “What?” Greg’s voice quivered but not in a disapproving way.

  “Well, I—” she rubbed her eyes to hide her blush as she considered taking it all back, but it was too late now. “Hot and cold at the same time,” she reaffirmed.

  “A paradox,” Greg said gently. “Just like love…”

  Mary laughed softly. “Exactly.” Could he tell what she was feeling? Was he feeling it too? Did he understand it? …Did she? She studied his face but right now she couldn’t read him any more than she could read herself.

  “Oh, maybe this is impossible,” Greg mused with a sigh. “What’s hot and cold for you may be completely different than what it is for me. Just like the color green… I mean think about it. You can describe your feelings to me for the rest of your days but no matter how astutely you do this, I will never know exactly what you are experiencing on the inside. I will never know exactly how your mind feels… or how your body feels!” His eyes grew wide with the last words and he quickly diverted his gaze.

  Mary’s pulse was speeding up again. “So how do you know, then?”

  “How your body feels?” Greg looked at her again with a raised brow and she could see that his cheeks were slightly pink.

  “No!” she shot back a little too quickly. “What lo
ve feels like!”

  “Oh, yes. That…” Greg sounded distracted but he moved on. “I really can’t give you an answer to this one. I guess the only answer is that you just… know…”

  “You love me too, right?”

  “Of course, my girl.” He smiled and squeezed her hand.

  “So how did you know?”

  “I’d never met anyone like you before. I still never have. And I suppose I just felt different. In a good way. Much different that I had ever felt before. And connected. It was like…” He paused and his eyes went glassy as he thought, “…like someone tied a string around my insides and connected them to yours…”

  Mary felt the same way but suddenly she was afraid to say it. “I think you might be right about this. Explaining a feeling is all but… impossible…” She waved her hand with frustration. “I mean I might as well have asked you what making love feels like!”

  “Bloody lot of good that question would have done you either…” Greg mumbled.

  Mary’s eyes grew wide and curious.

  “Why don’t you tell me, Mary?” There was a sudden harshness to his voice. “What does making love feel like?”

  “And how should I know?” Mary laughed nervously. “Don’t you know?”

  She saw his face relax a bit as he rested his chin on his knuckles. “Oh yes. Yes, of course…” he said with a nervous, sarcastic chuckle.

  Mary wasn’t sure what she’d wanted him to say, but she knew what she’d expected him to say, and it was not that.

  “What?” she asked incredulously.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Greg retorted. He almost looked hurt.

  “So… that’s a… no?” Mary asked with a tease. “You’ve kissed a woman before, right?”

  “Of course I have,” he said defensively. “What about you?”

  Mary laughed. “Have I kissed a woman? I can’t say that I have, Greg. Do you recommend it?”

  “I always recommend kissing,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.