A Little Bit Wicked (14 page)

She’d do her best to keep her distance from him personally, though, especially when it came to moments of privacy. A kiss. Upon his words last night, her heart had sped and she’d brazenly wanted him to steal the kiss right there in the parlor in front of everyone. This was seriously getting out of hand. Her wanton nature was beginning to take over. She took several breaths to calm her nerves.

She walked through the hall waiting for the rest of the guests to finish readying themselves for the outing. Many of the men had already walked over to the course, and she hoped Marcus had gone on with them. Evidently the rest of the women had decided to all be late.

“Miss March.” The whisper came from behind her so Vivian turned around to the stairs, but found no one there.

“Hello?”

“Miss March.” The whisper came again so she walked forward. And then arms came around her and pulled her beneath the stairs. She looked up into Marcus’s blue eyes. “It’s time for the second condition,” he said.

“Not now!” she whispered harshly. But her body betrayed her. Desire surged through her and she wanted nothing more than to press herself against him. “The rest of the party will be coming down these very stairs any moment.”

He was so handsome, so dashing that if she thought too much on it, she’d lose her breath. But the combination of his dark hair and those light eyes and the rugged cut of his jaw—mercy, he would drive her to Bedlam.

“Yes, now.” He leaned down and placed small kisses along the pulse that flickered beneath her ear.

She put her hands on his chest to push him away, but instead she clutched at his shirt and pulled him closer to her.

He released a low chuckle and made bolder, hotter kisses up the column of her throat to her chin. He nibbled along her jaw, working his way slowly, painstakingly to her mouth.

Kiss me!
she wanted to scream.
Do it now before I burst into flames right here.

As if she’d said the words aloud, he pressed his lips to hers, plunging his tongue into her mouth in a searing kiss. She kissed him back, snaking her arms up around his neck and threading her fingers into his hair. She met his every move.

One of his hands dipped into the top of her bodice and found her breast. He kneaded it, running his palm against her aching nipple. She moaned into his mouth. He stilled.

“Damnation, Vivian, I could take you right here under these bloody stairs.” He held her to him, their labored breathing mingled. He righted her dress, gave her one painfully sweet kiss, then looked straight into her eyes. “We are not done here.” And then he slipped out from beneath the stairs.

Chapter Fourteen

Marcus walked out to the golfing area along with many of the guests. Vivian was nowhere to be seen, but he knew she’d keep her promise, that she’d come and participate.

The dowager duchess detailed the rules for those who were unfamiliar and handed out clubs to all the players. Vivian came and joined the group. They’d been divided up into smaller groups so that they wouldn’t all be rushing one another.

“Seeing as Lord Greene and his mates have already begun,” the duchess said, “we shall allow them to be the first group.” She pointed to five people standing to Marcus’s right. “You can be second. In fact, begin now as the other group is already several holes ahead.”

They moved forward and lined up. The first of them, an older woman whom Marcus knew to be a friend of his aunt’s, took the first swing.

“Now then,” the dowager duchess said, “the remainder of you can go together. Remember as you play, you should stay in that same order so you do not lose track of who is winning.” She handed the other man in the group, Sir Nicholas Bartleby, a pencil and a small booklet. “You may keep the score in here.” She smiled broadly. “Best of luck to you all. I shall see you at the end of the course. I’ve had lemonade and cakes made as refreshments.”

“Thank you, your grace,” Nicholas said as the duchess walked off. “We should line up now how we want to play. I should go first so that I can assist any of you who are unfamiliar with the game.”

Marcus shot Vivian a look, but she appeared to be listening to Nicholas. “I can go in the last place,” Vivian said. “I suspect I’m not going to be very good at this, and I certainly don’t want to hold anyone up. My lord,” she said to Marcus, “you can go there in between Miss Liddle and Lady Constance. An added benefit of my going last is that I can watch you two men. Consider me a chaperone on this little exercise,” she said, but she would not meet Marcus’s eyes.

Was that a blush he saw creeping into her cheeks? She wasn’t a chaperone. She was in need of one. And she thought to stick him right between those two girls. He didn’t think he could stand being the object of Lady Constance’s overt flirtations.

“Shall we?” Nicholas asked. “I think the other team is far enough ahead that we can begin.”

They all walked together to the course, but then Marcus paused. “I forgot something. Begin without me, I won’t be long,” he said, and then he left. By the time he returned with a slightly different club, though he didn’t think it would make any difference, Vivian was up to tee off, which put Marcus at the very end of their group, directly behind her.

She glared at Marcus and he smiled in return. She chewed at her lip as she focused on the ball, pulled her arms back, and swung. She was a quick study because her ball shot straight toward the hole, only missing it by a fraction.

“Well done, Miss March,” Nicholas said. He turned to face her, his features serious. “Are you certain you’ve never golfed before?”

“Quite certain, Sir Nicholas. Beginner’s fortune,” she said. “Though I must say, it is surprisingly rewarding to smack something with such force.”

Marcus laughed at her remark, but she never glanced his way.

“Indeed,” Nicholas said.

When it was Marcus’s turn he shot the ball directly into the hole. The women in the group cheered, Miss Liddle going so far as to applaud. “Splendid, my lord,” she said.

“Yes, splendid,” Nicholas said as they walked to the next hole. He seemed less than impressed with Marcus’s shot. “Now then, Lady Constance, would you allow me to carry your club to the next hole?”

The others in their group walked away, making their way to the next hole. Vivian turned to face Marcus. “This is not what we agreed upon,” she said.

“I agreed to play golf,” he said.

“To get better acquainted with those other women.”

He shrugged. “I told you, I’ve made my choice. I know all I need to know.” He picked up their clubs and began following the others. “Now it is merely about the game. Hell of a swing you’ve got there, Vivian.”

Though he could not see her, he felt certain she stood behind him glaring holes into his back. He wanted to inquire about the letter he’d found, but knew now was not the time. She would flee if he didn’t handle the matter just so. He didn’t want to spook her; right now he was enjoying her company.

Once they’d joined the others, Constance smiled coyly at Marcus. “My lord, do you think you could assist me? I can’t seem to hold this thing correctly,” she said, wiggling the club out in front of her.

Marcus was not especially interested in assisting the woman, so when Nicholas stepped forward, Marcus did nothing to stop him.

“Allow me, Lady Constance,” Nicholas said. “Forgive me for being improper.” He wrapped his arms around Constance and guided her hands to the proper hold of the club. For a moment she looked at Marcus, but then seemed satisfied that some man was paying her attention and turned her focus to Sir Nicholas.

The rest of the game went much as the beginning had. Vivian had excellent power in her swings and got the ball surprisingly close to the hole each time, and Marcus hit it in nearly every time, much to Bartleby’s chagrin. It wasn’t intended to be a challenging course, so the fact that the man was taking things so seriously was humorous.

They were two holes from the end and Marcus was bored. He would have much preferred to spend the time alone with Vivian.

Lady Constance cried out in pain, bending to grip her leg. “That hurt!” she yelled at Annie.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so very sorry. My skills at this game obviously leave much to be desired,” she said with an apologetic smile.

Constance muttered something under her breath that sounded surprisingly like “bitch.” Marcus stepped forward.

“Perhaps we’ve had enough of the outdoors for one day,” he said. “You ladies could probably use some refreshments. Sir Nicholas, why don’t you assist Lady Constance back to the house and have the housekeeper attend to her injury. I shall escort Miss March and Miss Liddle to the goodies the dowager duchess has waiting for us,” he said.

Nicholas straightened. “Yes, excellent plan, Lord Ashford. My lady, shall we?”

Constance still glared at Annie, but allowed the man to lead her away.

“You handled that masterfully,” Vivian said to him quietly. She turned to Annie. “Are you all right?”

“Oh certainly. I am sorry I hit her,” she said.

“Of course you are. Not a reason for her to behave so poorly,” Vivian said.

Annie waved her hand in front of her. “She doesn’t care for me.” She laughed. “Honestly, she doesn’t care for anyone but eligible men.” Her eyes rounded. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

Marcus held his arm out to her. “I think it needed to be said. Well done, Miss Liddle.” He offered his other arm to Vivian, but she declined, opting to walk beside them. More than likely she was pleased with herself for having finally gotten him to do something woo-worthy to one of his would-be brides. No doubt when he asked Vivian for her hand later this weekend, she would be more than surprised.

It had been several hours since the guests had retired for the evening. They’d had an eventful day and Vivian was tired, but the thought of sleep didn’t settle right. She couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, or perhaps more than one someone, was here watching her. She’d received that damned blackmail letter shortly before they’d left London, and frankly, she’d thought that being here would clear her head enough to figure out precisely how to handle the matter.

She stepped out onto the garden and was pleased to find that the lights still had some remaining life in them, illuminating her path into the lovely rose garden. She’d come here to find some peace, to soothe her nerves. She missed her morning rides and needed the crisp air to clear her muddled thoughts.

Her morning rides had become her ritual sometime after Frederick had left her. She’d needed something to help her escape. She’d tried alcohol once, not merely one drink, but several. An ill-conceived attempt at forgetting her troubles, an attempt to drown out the constant nagging of the voices in her head. The voices that constantly told her what a fool she’d been, how reckless and well, plain stupid. She never should have given him her virtue, but above that she never should have believed that a man such as Frederick would have picked her above all the other girls in society. She’d been well onto the shelf when he’d begun courting her, already a spinster at four and twenty. Still, he’d been so insistent and so handsome…

He’d been beautiful, looking very much as she imagined Byron had, though he’d certainly not seemed to share the same roguish nature. She should have known. But innocent misses never did, otherwise Elizabeth would not have found herself at the mercies of the Duke of Hempshire.

Perhaps she should write a manual warning the girls of all the signs of rakes.
Never trust a man with lovely curling hair,
she’d begin.
Or a sinful dimple in his chin.
There were so many things she could say to girls to warn them off men like him—not that people would believe her. In order to tell them, she’d have to let them know that she spoke from experience, that she had some authority in the matter. She could never admit to anyone that she’d been seduced, that she’d succumbed to someone’s charms.

She took in a deep breath, sucking in the country air with its fragrance and purity. Purity. Knowing what she knew now, she probably would have chosen another man to whom to give her womanhood. Frederick had been beautiful, there was no denying that, but she found now her tastes ran a little differently. If she were choosing now, she would definitely pick someone whom the younger Vivian would have overlooked, but who now consumed her every thought.

The stone bench was chilly beneath her skirts as she sat, permeating the layers of clothing, but she didn’t mind the cold. It made her feel alive, reminded her she was still here, and she was still fighting. Whatever it was that Frederick thought he could blackmail from her, she refused to give it to him. The more she thought of him, the more she knew she would have to find another way than to give in to his demands. Perhaps no one would believe him if he told them the truth. She had a spotless reputation in town. He’d been gone for a decade.

Then again, he was a man, and a man from a good family. More often than not, men were believed over women, perhaps even over The Paragon.

“Are you cold?” Marcus’s voice intruded into her thoughts, but oddly, did not frighten her.

“A little, but it’s nice. Invigorating,” she said. Turning toward the sound of his voice, she narrowed her eyes to try to make out his form. His voice came from deeper in the garden, where the light did not reach.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked. She came to her feet and walked in the direction of his voice. She didn’t go into the darkness, merely took a few steps closer.

“I was intending to sleep, actually.”

“Sleep? Outside?”

“It is not something I’ve done in London. It’s been far too rainy and damp, but here, tonight, it’s lovely. The stars are out and the temperature is perfect,” he said.

His voice was filled with wonder and excitement and she remembered that this was whom he was. Or whom he had been before he’d returned to England to find himself the new earl and in charge of a sister embroiled in a would-be scandal. He was the man who braved danger to take the wealthiest into exotic locales to show them the animals and the people and antiquities.

“Would you like to see?” he asked.

“See what?”

“Come here, Vivian. Allow me to share this with you, then I shall return you to the garden and you can get back up to your room before anyone is the wiser.” He came out of the shadows, his arm extended to her. He still wore his shirt from dinner, but gone was his waistcoat and jacket as well as his cravat. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows revealing his well-muscled forearms, and the opening at his chest displayed a swatch of his chest. Her mouth went dry.

Without another thought she took his hand and stepped into the shadows with him. His hand was warm, despite the cooler night air and the fact that neither wore gloves at the moment. Now that she thought about it, he never wore gloves. Out of the gentleman’s habit, she supposed. It was so easy to forget who he’d been for the last ten years of his life. He’d never planned on being earl, on being his brother’s heir.

She’d never once considered that conforming to society’s standards might be challenging to him when he’d been spending most of his time in the wilds protecting the same silly people from dangerous animals.

They walked hand in hand deeper into the gardens. Eventually the sweet smell of the roses faded and they stepped off the rock path and on to soft grass.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I’ll show you.”

The moon and the stars shone brightly, giving them some light as they walked across the grounds to the forested park ahead.

“How did you know I’d come outside?” she asked.

“I saw you leave your room.”

She turned around and looked at the house and realized she could see much of what was going on in the rooms depending on how much light shone in the windows. “Oh my.”

She wouldn’t have thought twice about disrobing in that room, but she saw now that unless she stepped behind a screen, anyone out here would be able to see her, just as she was able to see Lord Filmore and Miss Banks in a heated embrace two rooms down from hers. “Oh
my.”

Marcus chuckled. “Before you begin to believe me an utter cad, that is not why I was down here. I find no thrill in watching fat marquesses seduce ugly women.”

Vivian knew it was wrong, but she laughed all the same. It was true. A more unattractive couple you could not have found, which begged the question of why Lord Filmore wasn’t coupling with his much more attractive wife. People were peculiar.