Too Wicked to Wed

by Cheryl Holt

  “I can’t have my hair down,” she scolded as she usually did when he trifled with her too publicly. “The servants will assume we’ve been—”

  “Yes, they will, but I don’t care.”

  “Beast!” she grumbled, but she let him proceed.

  He tugged at a comb, and the wavy mass swished down as he caressed her breasts, her tummy. He had to imprint her shape in his fingers so that he’d never forget.

  “What are you doing?” she inquired as he inched her skirt up her legs.

  “I guess I’m going to make love to you.”

  “Out here? In the forest?”

  When he’d fled the house, the notion hadn’t occurred to him, but why not? What was to prevent them?

  “Haven’t you ever been tumbled up against a tree trunk?”

  She glared over her shoulder. “You know I haven’t been.”

  Yes, he did, but it was so amusing to tease her. “Then I’m about to broaden your horizons.”

  “I don’t need them expanded quite that much.”

  “Consider it a new life experience.”

  “You can’t be serious. Are you telling me that couples actually saunter out and . . . and . . .”

  “It’s done fairly regularly.”

  “I should pay closer attention,” she said. “I can’t believe what I’ve been missing.”

  “Are you wearing drawers?”

  “Of course I am. I’m not a heathen.”

  He nibbled her earlobe. “Slide them off.”

  “Right here? Right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “I most certainly will not.”

  He loosened them himself, and she made a halfhearted attempt to stop him by gripping his wrist, but he was determined to philander, so she couldn’t dissuade him. He reached around, his fingers gliding into her sheath, and he fondled her, easing her into passion, her body drifting on the rising tide of pleasure.

  “Let me show you something,” he murmured.

  “What?”

  “You’ll see.”

  He clasped the flimsy undergarment and ripped it off, the threads popping, the fabric falling away.

  “Luke! Quit acting like a barbarian. You gave those to me. They were special.”

  On hearing how much she’d cherished the stupid gift, a burst of elation surged through him, but he tamped it down. For pity’s sake, they were just a stitched piece of material!

  “I’ll order you a dozen more, but I’ll have them sewn in bright red.”

  “Bright red? Why would I need red drawers?”

  “So I can be titillated whenever I undress you in the woods.”

  “You’re presuming it’ll be happening more and more often?”

  “Oh yes. Now that we’ve started, I find I like it very much.” He opened his trousers, which was tricky business while keeping her pinned to him, but shortly he had his cock free. “Lean forward.”

  “Like this?”

  “Yes.” He shifted, and after some positioning, he located her cleft.

  “Lucas Westmoreland! What are you thinking?”

  “You know what I’m thinking. After all this time, I shouldn’t have to explain it all over again.”

  “But . . . but . . . we’re outside!”

  “We definitely are, which will make it much more naughty, which will make it much more fun.”

  “Only in your deluded mind.”

  “It hasn’t failed me yet.” He wedged himself in. “Sit back.”

  Not positive she should participate, she hesitated, but ultimately, she couldn’t resist. He clutched her hips, as she giggled and squirmed, and he thrust, careful not to let go of her, not to retreat too far and slip out.

  “How do you like it, my little slattern?”

  “You are so wicked.”

  “Stick with me, and there’s no telling what else I’ll teach you.”

  “Promise?”

  “When your delicious bottom is splayed over me, how can I refuse?”

  She wriggled about, trying to force him deeper, trying to get him to move, but he didn’t have enough space to maneuver. He’d meant to delay, but she was so tight and hot that he couldn’t stand the torment of not being able to flex.

  He lifted her off his lap, tossed her shawl on the ground, and lay down on it; then he extended his hand.

  “Come here.”

  She crawled over to straddle him, her skirt billowing around them. He entered her again, and she took all he gave, her anatomy responding with a keen intensity. She was on her knees, working herself across his shaft, and she was so at ease, so confident in her decadence. He’d never seen a sight so exquisite as her perched above him, the indigo sky darkening behind her.

  He rolled them so that she was beneath him, so that he could smile down at her. She wrapped her legs around him, her feet locked to hold him close. She cradled his face and pulled him to her for a gentle kiss.

  “I’m so glad I met you.” Her words surprised him; she rarely mentioned anything personal.

  “Are you?”

  “You changed me in so many ways.”

  “For better or worse?”

  She laughed. “I won’t stroke your vanity by saying it’s all been for the better.”

  There were numerous replies he could have made to confess how much he’d treasured their association, too. She brought him an odd sense of joy, and when he was with her he suffered such peculiar exhilaration, but he couldn’t verbalize his sentiments.

  He wasn’t adept at declaring himself, at discussing his emotions or proclaiming his happiness. He wasn’t even sure why he was happy, had no clue as to what had created the unusual situation or how he should deal with it. He only knew that when he was around her he felt like a different man, a superior man to the one he’d been prior to their crossing paths.

  “My vanity doesn’t need stroking,” he joked, “but some other parts do.”

  “You’re insatiable.”

  “For you, Helen. I burn for you every second.”

  He took slow, leisurely penetrations, intruding all the way, withdrawing to the tip, then intruding again. It was so magnificent to have her like this, to tarry and revel without rushing to the conclusion.

  She simply pushed him to all manner of abnormal behavior. If he stayed six months, if he stayed a year, who and what would he become? She’d have him so altered that he wouldn’t recognize himself in the mirror.

  “Tell me that you’re crazy about me,” he demanded.

  “No.”

  “Then tell me that you’re wild for me.”

  “Well, maybe.”

  “Tell me that I’m the best lover you’ve ever had.”

  “You’re the only lover I’ve ever had—as you well know.”

  Though it was pathetic, he was dying to hear that he mattered to her, that if he went away she’d be devastated. He thought she was infatuated, that perhaps she even loved him, and he was desperate to have her divulge it. Pitifully, he was despairing over their future—rather their lack of one—and he couldn’t imagine how he’d get along without her, which was idiotic in the extreme.

  He’d move on with no trouble, at all. He was certain of it. Still, his feelings for her were so conflicted, so raw and unsettled. If he left Mansfield with some hint as to the depth of her regard, he’d be more content—though how her elevated esteem would keep him warm on cold winter nights was a mystery.

  Not that he needed her with him on winter nights. There would be other women. Plenty of other women.

  He scowled, stunned to realize that the notion of having other paramours was distasteful. Gad! She had turned him into a eunuch! He was aghast.

  “Why are you frowning?” She ran a finger over his brow to smooth away the creases.

  He shook himself out of his shocked stupor. “Because you won’t admit how fabulous I am.”

  “My dearest, Luke”—she chortled with delight—“don’t ever change. Swear to me that you’ll remain just as you are this very momen
t.”

  “And how is that?”

  “Arrogant and impossible and so unbearably sweet.”

  “Me? Sweet?”

  “Yes.”

  She kissed him again, and she nestled next to his ear and whispered, “I love you.”

  He stiffened with alarm and amazement, and he knew he should provide a response, but he couldn’t figure out what it should be. He had to swallow twice before he could say, “Oh, Helen . . .”

  “Wherever you go, whatever happens, remember, will you? There’s someone in the world who loves you, someone who will always love you.”

  He’d assumed he was a brave man, but in reality, he was too much of a coward to disclose any heightened sentiment. He wasn’t positive what the appropriate words meant. If love was this all-consuming, blazing obsession, then maybe he loved her, after all.

  But so what? Where did that leave them? He would never stay at Mansfield, and she would never run off with him. How could she? Would she live on his ship and sail the Seven Seas, fighting off storms, other pirates, and native savages?

  The prospect was ludicrous.

  “I’m so glad that you do,” he murmured, which was as much as he could offer.

  “So am I.”

  He began to truly make love to her then, perhaps for the very first time. He was exact and deliberate, yearning to savor every sensation and detail, so that he’d never forget how it had been.

  He linked their fingers, pinning them on either side of her head. Their desire rose, their torsos straining. She was so near to the edge, and she arched up, her eyelids drifting shut.

  “Keep your eyes open, Helen. Watch me to the end.”

  She was taut as a bow, ready to explode. The tremors started in her womb, her muscles tightening around him, the fever more intense than it had ever been previously.

  “Oh, oh, Luke,” she moaned.

  “Give yourself to me, Helen, as you never will to another.”

  “I’m yours, Luke. Yours forever.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  His own orgasm commenced, and he joined her in ecstasy. They spiraled up together, reached the top, then floated down, their pleasure matched, their joy complete. It was the most special, most magical, experience of his life.

  He remained in her, buried deep, until his erection waned. Then, he pulled away, and they shifted onto their sides, their feet and legs tangled. They were silent, recognizing that any conversation would shatter the enchantment.

  Finally, she asked, “Are you leaving me, Luke?”

  He wasn’t sure how she’d guessed, but then, she was adept at reading his mind.

  “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  “So this was merely your way of saying good-bye?”

  “Better than not saying it, at all, I suppose.”

  At the curt remark she studied him, then nodded, her disappointment in him painfully clear. “It’s for real, isn’t it?”

  “What is?”

  “You’re never coming back, are you?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Why now? I thought you were happy here.”

  He sat up and made a great show of straightening his clothes. “I heard from my father.”

  “What did he want?”

  “He’s decided he’d like to be introduced to me.”

  She sat up, too, and adjusted her dress, but she wouldn’t look at him.

  “I realize you’re searching for something, but you won’t find it with him.”

  “I’m certain you’re correct.”

  “I know him, Luke. I’ve met him.”

  “Well, I haven’t, and I need to.”

  “He’s not the sort of man you’re hoping. He’ll break your heart.”

  He shrugged, unable to explain the impulse that was driving him. It was like a rampaging monster shouting at him, and he couldn’t get it to cease its harangue.

  “I have to do this, Helen.”

  “I understand that, and after the two of you have become chums”—he couldn’t miss her sarcasm—“then what?”

  “If I pass muster, I’m to be knighted. By the Prince of Wales.” Apparently, the Prince had ordered the Duke to proceed with the interview, then provide a report as to Luke’s suitability, which was the sole reason the Duke had deigned to fraternize.

  Luke smiled, making light of the honor, though he was so greedy to receive it. “It’s silly, I know.”

  “You’re a very courageous man, Luke. You did a courageous deed. You’re a hero. If anyone deserves such a distinction, it’s you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Will you live in London after the ceremony?”

  “I’m debating. I have my ship and crew to consider, but there are rumors that property and money might be awarded to me.”

  “You’re constantly yearning for more than what you have.”

  He was irked by her statement. She acted as if ambition were a bad thing. It seemed as if she was reminding him that she was from a different world, that she was superior to him and always would be, no matter how hard he scraped and fought.

  “That’s because I started out with nothing and I grasp how quickly I could land myself back in the same kind of desperate spot. If you’d ever wanted for anything, if you’d ever been hungry once in your privileged life, you might be entitled to chastise me for my choices.”

  She stared and stared, trying to figure him out, as if she was just ascertaining that maybe she’d never really known him. “What about me?”

  “What about you?” he rudely replied.

  “What if I’m with child?”

  “What if you are?”

  They were very likely the cruelest words he’d ever uttered to another person, and he couldn’t believe that he’d said them to her. He viewed her as so extraordinary, but he had no idea what he’d do if she was pregnant, and the notion panicked him.

  He had no concept of how to be a parent, and he didn’t wish to learn. He wouldn’t be tied down. Didn’t she realize that about him? Didn’t she fathom how it was?

  “Precisely,” she mused. “What if I am? I suppose I should ask how many children you’ve sired. Have you a woman in every port? Are your progeny scattered around the globe?”

  “I have none,” he truthfully claimed.

  He’d never dallied with the abandon he’d displayed to her. He comprehended—better than anyone—the consequences of illicit fornication. As a result, he dabbled with whores who used their mouths. Helen had been the only one he’d treated so recklessly. Why had he risked so much for her?

  “Would you at least send me money? So that we wouldn’t starve?”

  “Helen!”

  “Would you?”

  He blushed with shame. “Yes, I would. I’ll leave an address. If there’s a babe, you can write to me. I’ll have funds delivered.”

  “You’re too, too generous, Captain Westmoreland.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Nothing. Your position is very clear.”

  Tears flooded her eyes. They pricked at his conscience, making him feel like the churl he was.

  She stood to go, and he couldn’t bear to have these acrimonious, harsh comments be the last they ever spoke. He slipped his hand into hers.

  “Don’t fret, Helen. Everything will work out for the best.”

  “Yes, it will.”

  “I’ll take care of you, and . . . and . . . a babe—if there is one. You’re needn’t worry.”

  “I’m not worried,” she declared. “In fact, I’m quite sure that I’ll never need anything from you ever again.”

  “Helen . . .”

  “Good-bye.”

  She yanked away and walked off, and he dawdled in the quiet forest, watching her disappear down the path toward the house till the evening shadows swallowed her up.

  Her ripped drawers were draped across the bench, her shawl wadded under him. He pulled the two items onto his lap, running his
palm across them, pondering her and the future without her.

  Dammit! He was right in going to the city. He was! He wouldn’t let her spoil his moment of triumph with her doubts and her castigations. His connection to the Duke was his heritage, and he would seize what was his, what should have been his long ago.

  Still, as she vanished, and the dark night crept in, the most terrible melancholia swept over him. He’d never been so alone or so isolated.

  With a heavy heart, he rose and followed her, the gilt of London bitter as brass.

  18

  You’re leaving when?”

  “First thing in the morning.”

  Unable to believe her ears, Patricia gaped at Robert. “Is it for good this time? It’s not just another trip to the city?”

  “That’s what the Captain says. He’s buying the house he was renting in London, and we’ll tarry for a few months. After that, I haven’t a clue as to what will occur. Depending on how matters resolve with his father, he may muster the crew and sail to the Mediterranean.”

  Recalling her hard life on board the ship, she tamped down a shudder. “When will he come back to Mansfield Abbey? I mean, he has to check in, to keep track of the servants and the farm.”

  “I don’t think he ever intends to return.”

  “But he was so happy. What happened?”

  Robert walked over and took her hand. “You know he doesn’t confide in me.”

  No, the Captain wouldn’t. When it involved his personal affairs, he was silent as a marble statue. With a snap of his fingers he’d totally disrupted many people’s lives, but he hadn’t paused to consider the consequences for any of them.

  “What has he told you about me?”

  “We didn’t discuss many details, so I’m not positive what he expects.”

  “Are you going?”

  “How could I not?”

  At the distressing reply she pulled away and went to the window to gaze out at the black night.

  From the beginning, she’d understood that the Captain would go eventually, that he had other, more pressing responsibilities, but she’d convinced herself that their idyll in the country would continue forever. She was existing in a bubble, where nothing was real, where she could maintain the fantasy as long as it suited her, and she didn’t want anything to change.