Dare to be Wicked (Daring Daughters Book 1)

by Emma V Leech

“Come and see if you can figure it out,” she said.

  He did not need a second invitation.

  Lottie cast one of the cushions to the floor and he quirked an eyebrow at her but knelt at her feet, a lowly supplicant before the goddess. She settled back among the remaining cushions as his hands slid about her ankles, delicate stockings sliding beneath his hands. A whisper of scent rose from the fine silk as Cassius lifted one dainty foot. He brushed his lips over her ankle, breathing in the perfume, so slight, yet utterly intoxicating.

  “Thyme,” he said, aware that his voice was scratchy and rough.

  Lottie shook her head and raised her skirts higher.

  “No,” she said. “Try again.”

  His mouth was dry as he set her foot down and pressed his mouth to the inside of her knee. He pushed her legs wider apart, aware of her breathing coming faster as he trailed a line of kisses up her thigh. A billow of petticoats tumbled about her hips, hiding the prize from his hungry gaze. The perfume was stronger here and he thought he might know it, but he said instead, “Lavender.”

  “Wrong again,” she murmured.

  Cassius tsked and shook his head. “I think I need to make deeper enquiries.”

  Lottie bit her lip. Her cheeks were pink, and she looked torn between laughter, the desire to tease him further, and her very real curiosity as to what he would do next. He waited, uncertain as to which aspect of her character would win out.

  “Very well,” she said, her voice not quite steady. “But it is your last chance.”

  “Then I had best be very sure before I give my answer,” he said gravely, and then flung her petticoats over his head and disappeared in a billow of white lace.

  “Cassius!” she squeaked but he ignored her, content that she was only surprised and not voicing any objection.

  It was warm and dim and sweetly scented beneath the layers of her gown and petticoats. Jasmine mingled with the herby green perfume and a scent that was uniquely feminine and fogged his mind with lust. His mouth found the tender skin of her inner thigh and he kissed her, moving higher until he got to the juncture of leg and hip and the impossibly silken skin that bracketed the soft triangle of curls. His tongue drew a fine line along that satiny flesh and she made a startled sound, jolting beneath him.

  “Shall I stop?” he asked, aware he’d surprised her.

  “Don’t you dare!”

  He chuckled, and his warm breath must have gusted over her for she gasped. Pleased, he decided his wife-to-be must be punished for ruining his lovely surprise. He flipped back the petticoats and exposed her to his view.

  “It’s hot under there,” he said, flashing her a wicked smile. “And I want to see what I’m doing.”

  “But the door isn’t locked,” she said, breathing very hard.

  “I’ll go,” he said, moving to lock it, but she grabbed hold of his hair. “No, don’t go. It’s exciting.”

  “Wicked, wicked girl,” he murmured, his blood thrumming through his veins, though he knew as well as she did that it was unlikely anyone would come by his studio today, not with so many other things to occupy them with the wedding to arrange. “God, I love you, Lottie.”

  She laughed, a pleased, happy sound that made his heart feel light but that stopped abruptly as he bent his head again and pressed a kiss to the soft curls. Her hands were still fisted in his hair and they tightened reflexively. Cassius smiled and touched a finger to the springy golden thatch between her legs, tickling her gently as his finger ghosted up and down the crease of her sex.

  “Cass,” she pleaded, shifting beneath his touch.

  There was impatience in her voice, not that he was surprised. She ever did want to run headlong towards every adventure, straight into anything new and exciting, never looking before she leapt.

  “Relax, love. There’s nothing you need to do, just enjoy my touch.” He gave her a devilish glance and deliberately provoked then by saying, “You are supposed to obey your husband, after all.”

  She returned a look of outrage but, before she could ring a peal over him, lowered his mouth to that secret place and licked.

  Whatever indignant words were brewing on her tongue melted into an incoherent mewling sound that only grew louder and wilder as he teased his tongue along the delicate folds, and she trembled and gasped beneath him. His ruthless mouth continued to wring the desperate sounds from her as his tongue sought the little peak of flesh that made her buck and exclaim with pleasure and shock.

  “Do keep still, sweetheart,” he chastised her gently. “You’re a dreadful fidget.”

  “Oh!” she huffed. “You’re the dreadful one. How can I possibly keep still with you teasing me so? Just you wait, Cassius. Once I know how I shall…I shall….”

  He did not get to hear whatever it was she had in mind, though he was certainly more than keen to find out. Today was his turn to pleasure his beloved, though, and tease her a little too. The increasingly loud wails of pleasure that he drew from her made him very relieved that they were spending their wedding night in a hotel before going onto their new home. The idea of being under the same roof as her father was enough to give any man pause. Holbrook might be vast, but there was no house big enough to be sanguine about deflowering the Duke of Bedwin’s daughter when he was in the same building.

  Thoughts of his wedding night were only too tempting to entertain, but he wasn’t about to anticipate their vows any more than he already was. It was only because Lottie was an unholy temptation, and they had waited so much longer than they first expected, that his sanity was unravelling. He ached for more, but he would not have her first time be in the summerhouse. Though, if gossip was to be believed, there was something of a family tradition there, he thought with a wry smile.

  She made a soft sound, tugging at his hair. Cassius chuckled and slid one finger inside her tight heat. His own body grew taut, his breathing increasingly rapid as she shuddered and moaned. He caressed her gently.

  “Shall I stop?” he enquired lazily.

  “If you do, I shan’t be responsible for the consequences,” she warned him, breathless, gasping as he returned his mouth to the tender bud of her sex and suckled whilst he continued to stroke her intimately.

  She shattered beneath him, a breathless cry of pleasure that rolled through him with the force of a lightning strike, bringing him so close to the edge that it was all he could do not to embarrass himself.

  “Oh,” she said, her voice hazy and indistinct once the tremors had ceased. “Oh, that… that was…. Goodness, how long until we get married? I want to do that again.”

  Cassius let out a helpless laugh and buried his face in her petticoats.

  “Rosemary,” he said, forcing the word out as the dizzying scent of her, jasmine and that tantalising green perfume made him feel drunk and happy and a little dazed that she was truly going to be his.

  “Oh, you wretch. Did you know it all along?” she demanded, and then put her head back with a laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t tell me.”

  They both stilled as the muted sound of voices reached them. Someone was coming.

  “Christ,” Cassius said, leaping to his feet as Lottie did her best to settle her copious petticoats and her badly rumpled skirt back into order.

  “Oh, your hair,” she wailed, gesturing to it as Cassius tried to smooth it down again, but to no avail.

  They were both flushed and a little disarranged, and he could only hope whoever it was would keep on walking.

  “Yes, well, I’m sure they’ll be very pleased to come along with us,” said an overly loud voice that Cassius recognised.

  “Mama!” Lottie squeaked in horror.

  “That’s torn it,” he said, lunging for the back of her gown which had not fallen properly and showed a deal of petticoat. He just got it straight as the door opened and the Duke and Duchess of Bedwin walked in. Lottie’s father stilled in the doorway, his cool green gaze going from his rumpled daughter to Cassius. Despite being a grown man, one who’d seen t
he world and survived it, Cassius was in that moment reduced to a grubby schoolboy. He felt heat creep up the back of his neck as the duke’s face darkened.

  “Lottie, darling,” the duchess said, sweeping to her daughter before the man could speak, and surreptitiously making an adjustment to Lottie’s bodice whilst she was shielded from her father’s gaze. “We need you at the house, my dear. Tedious, I know, but there are some decisions only you can make and… and….”

  The duchess trailed off and Cassius followed her gaze, realising she had seen the painting.

  “Oh,” she said, one elegant hand moving to cover her heart. “Oh, Robert.”

  The duke sent Cassius a look that told him he’d not be getting within fifty feet of his daughter again before the wedding if he had anything to do with it, before going to stand beside his wife.

  “Isn’t it lovely, Mama?” Lottie said, taking her mother’s arm. “He’s flattered me dreadfully, of course, but I can hardly complain about that.”

  There was silence for a moment while her parents studied the picture.

  “No,” the duke said at length. “No, he hasn’t flattered you. He’s seen you just as you are, as I knew he did, for I should not have let you go away from me so soon otherwise.”

  “Oh, Papa,” Lottie said, hearing just as Cassius had, the slight tremble of emotion in the man’s voice. She ran to her father and hugged him tightly.

  “Oh, stop it!” the duchess wailed, wrestling a lace handkerchief from her sleeve. “You know the slightest thing sends me off at the m-moment and how can I p-possibly withstand….”

  The next moment the duke was hugging both his daughter and his wife and Cassius felt a tad superfluous.

  “Cassius,” the duke said, giving first Lottie then his wife a kiss before disentangling himself. He moved closer, studying Cassius for a long moment, and then held out his hand. Cassius took it. “It is a devilish hard thing to give your daughter into another man’s keeping, no matter how worthy he might be, but… but I am proud of the man you have become, and I trust you to make her happy.”

  “I swear I will do everything in my power, sir.”

  Bedwin nodded, the glimmer of a smile at his lips even as something dark flickered in his eyes. “See that you do.”

  Chapter 21

  Dear Diary,

  We are returning to Holbrook House for the wedding and I’m so happy. The summer was full of excitement and drama just as I’d hoped, but I realise now that drama, which is thrilling and bone chilling in books, is not at all nice to experience first-hand. We were all so afraid for poor Eliza and are so delighted she is recovering well. Though she is terribly fragile still, like a little china doll. She will need a great deal of looking after I think, though of course all her brothers and sisters dote upon her, as do we all. Indeed I think our fussing is driving her quite to distraction.

  ―Excerpt of an entry to the diary of Lady Catherine ‘Cat’ Barrington, youngest daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu.

  22nd September 1838, Holbrook House, Sussex.

  Eliza looked on with amusement as her sister ran about the room, as giddy as a child at Christmas. She had driven her poor mother and her maid quite distracted with her inability to sit still for five minutes together. The two women ran around after her trying to do her hair and fasten her corset and get her into her gown, but it did Eliza’s heart good to see Lottie brimming with happiness. This was how you ought to feel about marrying the man you loved. She realised that now, and she knew she would have felt nothing like this on her wedding day if Cassius had not been brave and honest enough to tell her he would not marry her.

  Finally, things were as they ought to be, and though it was a touch mortifying to have one’s little sister marry before you, Eliza was not about to let such a thing disconcert her. Lottie was happy and Cassius was her friend again. That was all that mattered. He had spent yesterday afternoon with her, playing cards and talking, and pretending to be engrossed in a book when she fell asleep, something she still seemed to have no control over and would do at the drop of a hat if she dared to close her eyes. Everyone’s fussing about her was tedious, though, and she wished they would stop, even if she did appreciate their care. She just wanted to be as she was before, but she knew she must be patient. Eliza gave a soft huff of laughter at that. Patient. Lady Elizabeth Adolphus, known to be one of the most serene and patient ladies of the ton, was increasingly snappy, bad-tempered, and petulant as a child.

  She was a fool. No, she had been a fool. Climbing the crumbling walls of the Abbey, wearing a riding habit of all things, had been the height of idiocy. The trouble was she still remembered the desire to be reckless and defy the rules, to make her heart beat faster and to feel alive. She not only remembered it, she felt it still, a simmering restlessness beneath her skin. There were other things, too, like the day she had galloped across the fields with Mr Demarteau at her side, his wicked dark eyes daring her, urging her on. She had dared, or at least she thought she had. It was still all so hazy in her mind she could not be certain she hadn’t dreamt it. It seemed too unlikely to be real, for she had dared to lead him to the abbey and once there she had watched him, spellbound, as he climbed the walls, agile as a cat. Then she had stared, not daring to breathe, as he had performed for her. He had stood on his hands, then—impossibly—balanced on one hand, and shown her feats of strength and agility she would never have dreamed possible. He finished his performance by somersaulting down from the walls while she stifled a scream of shock lest he fall. But he had not fallen, he had come back to earth, like some mythical creature, or at the very least a performer like those at Astley’s Amphitheatre. How or where he had learned such things she could not fathom, and he had refused to tell her. He had barely spoken to her at all, but the memory of his dark eyes on her lingered like a brand upon her heart, stirring her blood. Remembering it now made her heart beat too fast, skittering about erratically in her chest. If it was a memory. Could she truly have dreamed such a thing? It seemed no more improbable than it being real.

  “Eliza?”

  She jolted as her mother’s worried voice penetrated her distracted thoughts.

  “Are you well, love? You’re flushed.”

  Eliza tried to swat her mama’s hand away as she put it to her forehead.

  “Sally, do you think she has a temperature?”

  Eliza groaned and submitted whilst Sally—who was a sensible creature, thank the Lord—assured Mama that she was not about to succumb to some unknown malady.

  “Well, then, if you are sure you are well, my love?” her mama persisted.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake. Indeed I am well. I’m just impatient and excited to see my sister married, Mama, and if you don’t let her go down at once, poor Cassius will think she’s run away.”

  “I think Papa might help me if I decided to,” Lottie said with a grin. “He’s awfully tense.”

  The duchess sighed. “Oh, your poor father. It is difficult for him to see you leave, Lottie dear.”

  Lottie snorted. “Piffle. Eliza’s still here, so he’ll be perfectly content, though I think it will be a brave man that comes to ask for your hand, my dear. Everyone knows you’re his favourite.”

  “Don’t be so shatter-brained,” Eliza protested. “I am nothing of the sort.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re his annngel,” Lottie said, drawing the word out and smirking. “He’s never called me ‘angel’ in his life.”

  “No, indeed,” their mama said with a wry smile. “As you’ve never given him reason to, you wicked creature. Perhaps I should take this opportunity to ask what exactly you were up to in the summerhouse. Hmmmm? You’re lucky I have such a carrying voice, I suspect.”

  To Eliza’s amusement, Lottie turned a startling shade of scarlet. Oh, she must ask her sister exactly what had gone on there before she disappeared off on her honeymoon. Mama had been forthright about explaining the mechanics of sex, and the ways in which gullible girls could get themselves i
nto tricky situations. She believed girls ought never be ignorant of the world, or of men, and certainly not of their own bodies. She would never send them off to their wedding night with no clue of what was to happen, but one simply could not ask her about the finer details—too embarrassing for words!

  “Now, don’t keep that poor young man waiting any longer,” the duchess instructed, handing Lottie her bouquet, and shooing them all out of the bedroom. “He looked dreadfully pale and anxious when he arrived, and I doubt your father has done anything to put him at ease.”

  Cassius paced the length of the vast marble fireplace in the grand saloon and tried to resist the urge to check the time. Again.

  “You are supposed to look resigned to your fate, old man,” Ash drawled, amusement glinting in his bright blue eyes. “Not like you’re desperately eager to throw yourself into the fire.”

  Cassius turned back to his friend and snorted. “Just you wait until it’s your turn. I swear if I must delay much longer to make her my wife, I think I shall run mad.”

  Ash sighed, arranging his long limbs elegantly as he leaned against the mantel. “This falling in love business seems far too taxing to my mind. I think I prefer to be adored by others but to keep my heart to myself. It looks dashed uncomfortable to always be at the mercy of one’s emotions.”

  “Says the man wearing that waistcoat,” Cassius said, wincing as he regarded his friend’s lavishly encased chest. Today’s effort was purple silk embroidered with… with…. He squinted at the motif. “Are those lobsters?”

  Ash scowled with indignation, smoothing a loving hand over the purple creation that was assaulting Cassius’s sensibilities. “Indeed they are not, you cretin. That’s a heart with a crown, held between two hands. It’s an Irish symbol of love, loyalty, and friendship. It was a birthday gift from Lady Aisling.”

  Cassius raised an eyebrow. Aisling was the eldest daughter of the Earl and Countess of Trevick, Luke and Kitty Baxter. She also had an older brother—the Viscount Harleston—who guarded her and her younger sister like Cerberus patrolled the gates of hell.