Love and Other Wicked Games (A Wicked Game Novel)

by Olivia Fuller

  “Well, he could take his shirt off…” Amelia pondered, in a manner that indicated she was slowly returning to her usual sensibilities.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Ellie remarked swiftly. Until this moment she hadn’t realized how much she wanted to see Cal’s full form, unencumbered by dress, but she knew that to do so right now would pose a serious risk. This was a delicate enough situation as it was and she struggled to hold onto her bearings.

  “Are you certain?” Cal softly raised one eyebrow and tugged at the bottom of his shirt.

  “Well, on second thought, Ellie. Why don’t you just let me he—”

  “No,” Ellie interrupted, placing her palms firmly against Cal’s hands to stop him. He looked down to their touching hands and then up at her eyes, wrapping his right pinkie finger around the edge of her hand, stroking, and joining it with hers. She returned the motion with her own fingers. The soft area between her legs fluttered with tiny, electrifying spasms. Ellie took one abrupt intake of breath and jerked her hands away from him, sharply.

  He bit his bottom lip and titled his head again, eyes caressing her up and down in soft, satisfied strokes. She almost lost it right then and bit his bottom lip too. He spoke before she had a chance.

  “So what do you think?”

  “About… what?” Her heart was racing and her mind was feeling muddled and languid.

  “About the tear. What else?” He raised his left arm above his head and leaned to his right exposing a small two inch tear along a seam on his left side. His skin was visible through the rip. “Can it be repaired?”

  “Do you need my help, Ellie? Perhaps I could—”

  “No,” Ellie interrupted once more. She would not have anyone else touch him in her presence so long as she could help it. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

  “Fine.” Amelia crossed her arms and turned her back, walking to the far side of the room, where she dropped down into an oversized chair with an exaggerated humph.

  “Now, let me get a better look at this.” Ellie stretched out the fingers of her right hand, her palm open and parallel to his chest. She drew in her breath as if waiting for the right moment, only to realize that there never would be one, especially under these circumstances. And with that she laid her palm against the crisp linen of his shirt. At first she just let it rest there feeling the sharp contours of his sculpted muscles. A tiny tremor vibrated through him, sending heat and energy into her. She felt the pounding of his heart under her hand and the way that it sped up the longer she touched him. Her fingers curled one by one, digging into his chest, until the vibrations of his pulse echoed against her. It felt like she was holding his heart in her hand.

  He exhaled deeply as if to soothe his racing pulse but Ellie knew there would be no relief for either of them as long as they were touching. And she was pleased with that. He reached his hand up to cover hers but she deftly pulled away, walking her fingers to the right across his chest, pressing firmly into him each step of the way. The mass and strength of him flooded her with a magnificent shudder and caused her to pause, palm pushed flat against his side. She did not want to stop touching him.

  She wanted to touch him with both hands, fingers grasping and pressing, going out and down, lower and lower, exploring every inch of him until she knew it all. Instead, somehow, she governed that desire, and ran her shaking hand down his side stopping at the rip in his shirt. She folded her fingers around the edges of the soft fabric, nails scrapping against skin, fingers fluttering on the flesh. He was warm and soft and man. And hers. Somehow, hers. She wanted more—no, she dared to think, she needed more—and she prayed to the universe for sweet compliance.

  “You find my friend pretty, do you?” she asked softly, not immediately sure why she wanted to know. The words he had used for Amelia—pretty one—had made her burn and writhe, but Ellie realized after a moment that this had been his intention. He wanted her to squirm for him and claim possession.

  “Oh, yes,” he answered, confirming her suspicions with a low purr, “But pretty is a comparative word, used to preserve face in the presence of others… I couldn’t very well tell the girl that she is overshadowed by her company, could I now?”

  Ellie’s mouth quivered as a low moan escaped. Her skin flashed with red and she cleared her throat, looking over Cal’s shoulder to make certain that Amelia was still pouting, obliviously, on the far side of the room. She was, thankfully.

  “Begging your pardon… sir?” she asked, trying to extract some small answers.

  He smiled at her ferocity but shook his head as always.

  “My lord?”

  He shrugged. “But give it a try anyway, and see how you like it.”

  She accepted and continued on. “Well, then. My lord.” She liked the feel of that on her lips as much as he appeared to like the sound of her saying it. “You seem far too pleasurable a sort to be the escort of one such as… her.”

  “One must sometimes be party to less favorable of sorts, when looking for the most influential.” He tilted his head. “Does that make sense?”

  Ellie nodded her head, a small smile making its way across her face as she remembered what he’d told her before about knowing influential people.

  “That’s what you think of me then? As pleasurable?”

  Ellie lowered her head and whispered into his chest, “Yes.”

  “Hmm,” he crooned. He took her chin in his hand raising her head, and then he leaned down nearly pressing his cheek flush against hers. “Already? Just you wait…” he whispered in her ear.

  Ellie’s heart jumped up into her throat and she felt her knees shake beneath her. He took hold of both her arms to steady her but that only made matters worse. Grinning, he pulled her in closer.

  “How is the seam?” he asked after a moment, his warm breath tickling against her neck and ear. “I should hate for her to find me in such a state again.”

  “Oh,” Ellie said, realizing that until this point she had done nothing more than relish in his touch. She would need to actually fix the seam and step away from him before they were seen. She was being a damn fool, they both were, but something about that made her love what was happening all the more.

  Grudgingly, she set her eyes and hands to the task at hand, examining the seam for the quickest and most efficient way to repair it. “It will be a simple repair,” she said at last. “I’ll just need a needle and some thread. I have those in my bag right over—”

  He grabbed her wrist. “Don’t move away. Don’t you dare.”

  “Then how will I—”

  “You!” he called behind him. “Pretty one!”

  Ellie saw Amelia’s head pop up and look in their direction. “Me?” she asked pointing to her chest. “I’m of use now, am I?”

  “Yes,” Cal answered. “The lady here needs a needle and thread to repair my seam.”

  “And why can’t she get it herself?”

  “Amelia!” Ellie retorted through shallow breaths. And then in a whisper to Cal, “Why can’t I get it myself?”

  He shrugged and smirked scandalously.

  “Sorry…” Amelia sassed as she stood up and raised a brow in Ellie’s direction. “Are you all right? You’re acting remarkably similar to when you’ve been running around with your handsome mystery man...”

  Cal’s eyes lit up. “Handsome mystery man?” he mouthed.

  “She’s coming. You have to let go,” Ellie mouthed back.

  He moved his hand from her wrist and plaited his fingers together with hers.

  God in heaven. Ellie wanted to tip back her head and whimper out loud.

  “Where’s the needle and thread?” Amelia asked.

  Ellie just jerked her head to the right.

  Amelia scoffed. “And why can’t you get that yourself?”

  Ellie opened her mouth but no words came out.

  “Because she’s holding the seam in place,” Cal offered. “Of course.”

  “Of course,” Amelia mut
tered as she walked closer.

  Ellie looked down at her fingers, still joined with Cal’s. He squeezed her hand, and rubbed the pad of his thumb against her palm. She never wanted him to let go. She wanted him to hold her deeper and closer, but she also felt a sudden panic. She tried to pull away and he shook his head, grasping to her hand with a more powerful need. Amelia was almost upon them and Ellie tried once more, still to no avail. Her pulse throbbed in her veins and in that moment she decided that if her life was going to hell anyway, she might as well enjoy the journey. She closed her eyes. She pressed her hand into his with all her might.

  And he let go.

  “Is this all you need, then?”

  Ellie looked to her right, where Amelia was now standing, holding out the needle and thread with an annoyed look in her eyes. She hadn’t seen anything. Ellie nodded her head, taking the already threaded needle from Amelia.

  “Should I go back to my corner then?” Amelia pointed over her shoulder.

  “No.” Cal said abruptly. “You should stay. She may need your help.”

  Amelia rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Oh, I’m sure.”

  Ellie gave him a quick glance. Her muscles were tender in places that she hadn’t even known existed. Every nerve of her body was tingling to touch him. Why was he doing this?

  She tried to set it all from her mind. She held the seam in place with her left hand, running the needle through the fabric with her right. Her hand shook as she stitched and her finger nearly brushed across his skin. He leaned his head over to look at her progress, his lips gliding right past her ear. Her legs shook. She ached and burned. But she couldn’t touch him and he could not touch her. No matter how desperately they needed to.

  This was precisely his intent, she realized. She wanted to curse him and praise him in the same breath. But oh God. It was becoming too much. If she couldn’t touch him then she wanted to go hide under a rock, or at least on the other side of the room.

  She sped up the movements of her trembling fingers; finishing the seam, tying the thread, and breaking off the excess. She nearly jumped backwards, away from him, as far as she could get in one step. But the distance only made everything inside her sting more.

  “Alright. That’s—that’s it. I’ve finished—”

  “Have you, then?” Cal gave her another one of those smirks she didn’t quite understand.

  “Yes—yes I’ve—you’re fit for the dowager’s presence…” Ellie turned and fanned herself, only to find Amelia giving her a rather accusing look. “Is it hot in here? I’m really warm…”

  “No. It’s not. What’s the matter with you, Ellie?” The edge in Amelia’s voice became sharper. She put her hand up to Ellie’s forehead. “God, you’re all cold and sweaty…”

  “Actually, I’d have to agree. It is rather warm in here.” Cal added as he leaned down to pick up his jacket and vest off the floor. “Not looking forward to putting these back on…”

  Amelia glared at Cal. “No, it’s not hot in here. What’s wrong with you two?”

  “As much as I’d love to stay and discuss the many sides of that topic, I’m afraid I must take my leave. Miss,” he tipped his head to Amelia. And then to Ellie, “Miss, I thank you for your skillful work and look forward to meeting again.”

  He turned and walked towards the door. Ellie felt a mix of sadness and relief.

  Amelia, whose face was still drawn tight, leaned into Ellie and said, “God, you couldn’t let me flirt with that one? You already have your mystery man and now this one too? I mean what would he say about this anyway, your Cal?”

  “Hmm?” From across the room Cal turned back to look at them.

  Oh Lord. He’d heard his name. Now Ellie really wanted to hide under a rock.

  Amelia’s eyes opened wide as saucers as she looked between Cal and Ellie and then back to Cal, pointing her finger. “You!”

  “Me?” Cal asked innocently, pointing to his chest.

  “It’s you!” Amelia threw her hands up to her mouth and turned to Ellie. “Oh. My. God. Ellie!”

  Cal took the opportunity to pucker his lips into a kiss. Ellie’s heart pounded. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, bloody hell. What would she do now? What would they do?

  He smiled slyly and ducked out of the room. At the last instant Ellie thought she saw an expression of concern tic on his face but everything was happening so fast she couldn’t be sure. And it wasn’t important right now anyway.

  “I knew it! I said he was a prince! I did!”

  “I told you, he’s not a prince.” Ellie picked up a stray piece of fabric, busying her hands with folding and unfolding it. He wasn’t a prince. She was still certain of that much at least, even if she wasn’t certain of anything else.

  “No? Then what is he? A baron? An earl? A duke? A duke. He’s a duke, isn’t he? If he’s not a prince he must be a duke for the dowager to find him acceptable…”

  “I—I don’t…” Ellie shook her head and put her hand to her neck, kneading at the tight muscles. “I don’t know…”

  “How don’t you know?”

  “I never asked.” That was only partially a lie. While she had inquired into who he was, she had never asked him if he held a title. It hadn’t even crossed her mind until today. She hadn’t allowed those thoughts. But now, she couldn’t allow herself not to think about them…

  “So, what you’re saying is… there’s still a chance he could be a prince…” Amelia jumped up and down. “Just wait until I tell Mandy!”

  Ellie cradled her head in her hands. That rock was looking better by the second.

  ***

  Much to everyone’s extreme displeasure, the dowager insisted that they stay the entirety of the party, just in case she might need them.

  Mandy, the one who was normally the voice of level-headed reason, had been worn to her wit’s end by the dowager and found a quiet corner to unceremoniously doze in. Meanwhile, Ellie and Amelia spied on the party from an upstairs balcony that overlooked the ball room.

  Ellie leaned on a shadowed section of the railing hoping to catch a glimpse of Cal in the crowd. She had managed to keep Amelia from spilling everything to Mandy, at least for now. She had not, however, managed to prevent her from asking questions.

  “What’s he like?

  “What do you mean?” Ellie deflected.

  “I mean—” Amelia cleared her throat. “What’s he… like?”

  Ellie shot her a cold glare. “I am not answering that.”

  “Then…” Amelia gasped. “Then you do—then you have—”

  Now Ellie tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. She didn’t care what Amelia thought but she wasn’t about to discuss the situation with her. Amelia sighed and leaned over, resting her elbows on the railing.

  “Alright then. But who is he? That’s the real question. That’s what I want to know…”

  “I wish I could tell you…”

  “How don’t you know? I mean you must know something.”

  “I don’t know anything. Really, Amelia. Truly. I don’t.”

  “You’ve learned his name, right? His real proper name. Because you only knew the one the last time I asked and that just doesn’t seem right.”

  “Nope.”

  Amelia shook her head rapidly from side to side. “No. I don’t believe you. Not at all. I mean, how is that even possible?”

  “Why is it so hard to believe that I’m just as confused about all this as you are?”

  “Because, I mean, the way you two were looking at each other. I thought—I just thought the room might catch on fire.” Amelia stood back up and gestured her hands for emphasis. “That’s what it was you know. Why it was hot. It was you two. It was just this crazy, fiery… something. And how can you feel that way about a man whose name you don’t even know?”

  A small hmm sound escaped from Ellie’s throat. Amelia had hit the mark. “Because it’s about something more import than titles or money or names. It’s about everything else that makes a pe
rson who they are…”

  “But how—”

  Ellie shook her head. She’d already said more than she planned. “That’s the only way I can explain it. If you’re able to figure it out then you can let me know. Until then, I’m going outside for some air.”

  “Can I come?”

  “No.”

  “Are you meeting him?”

  “No!”

  A pause. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because that’s how it always happens in the books, you know. In secret meetings… outside… in the garden.”

  “Amelia, if I ever become a heroine in a romance novel, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Another pause. “Promise?”

  “Yes. Of course… but you must promise me something too.”

  “What?”

  “That you won’t go snooping around trying to figure out more about him. Because it wouldn’t just be me you’d be causing trouble for. It’s much more—”

  “Alright. Alright then…” Amelia crossed her arms. “I promise. You can go.”

  “Thank you. Just come and find me if the dowager needs anything.”

  Amelia winked. “I’ll wake Mandy first.”

  Ellie smiled with a half roll of her eyes and hurried off.

  There was a small terrace overlooking the garden near the upstairs women’s dressing room and Ellie made her way straight for it. It was so far removed from the party and the people that she was fairly certain it would be unoccupied at this time of night. It seemed unlikely that even couples looking to have a tryst would be so bold as to go upstairs together especially since the only way to reach this terrace was a main staircase off the dance floor. They would most likely sneak off to a shadowed alcove or the easily accessible large backyard garden in some manner strikingly similar to one of Amelia’s books. The vision of having such a tryst with Cal flashed through her mind and made her flush. Perhaps in another lifetime. In one where her father had kept his title and she attended parties like this as guest and not a seamstress.

  Ehh, she thought. As nice as that idea sounded, and as confusing as things were between them now, she honestly preferred reality to the way things might have been. In that life, right now, she might have been kissing Cal in a garden but she wouldn’t have been her. She wouldn’t have been the person he seemed to care for so much and without that, she doubted that they would have ever been anything more to each other than random kissing partners.