A Little Bit Wicked (15 page)

Vivian heard the strike of a match and then their hidden space was revealed as light spread around them. He hung the lantern from a tree branch. A hammock strung between two of the larger oak trees swayed lightly in the breeze. He fell into the hammock and it moved against his weight, rocking back and forth. He held his hand out to her. “Join me.”

She thought for a moment, knowing full well what this meant, what she was about to do. Could she spend a night with him knowing that tomorrow morning she would continue to encourage him to select another woman for a wife? When he proposed to another woman, announced his betrothal, would she be able to smile and congratulate him? And what of his would-be bride?

She took a sobering breath. Tonight he belonged to no one, tonight he could be hers. Whatever tomorrow brought would be dealt with tomorrow.

Besides, she was already a ruined woman, already a wanton, but this time she’d have a choice. She wouldn’t be some lovesick girl with foolish thoughts of romance and happily ever afters swimming in her head. This time she was a woman who knew what she wanted and she was going after it.

She held out her hand and he pulled her to him, knocking her into the hammock and against his body. She released a decidedly feminine shriek, which made him chuckle. But the hammock slowed to a gentle rock and soon she was snuggled against him looking up at the inky sky.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, her voice breathy and full of wonder.

“Indeed,” he said, but he was not looking at the sky. Instead, he watched her face as she gazed at the heavens.

When she realized he was looking at her, she smiled sweetly. “You never give up, do you?”

“Not when I see something I want,” he said.

She chewed at her bottom lip. “And?”

“And I want you, Vivian March.”

“I’m considering my options,” she said with a rather uncharacteristic impish grin.

“Miss March, are you flirting with me?”

“Don’t be so surprised. I actually do know how. It is not as if I had to read a manual to share with you all the secrets of modern flirting,” she said. “I may be a spinster, but I was a young girl once.”

“It becomes you, you know. You should do it more often.”

“And should this flirting be with you? Or merely any gentleman whom I might fancy?”

“Only me,” he said.

She fell quiet and went back to looking at the sky. Her hand came to rest on his chest, about where his heart pounded. He wanted to ask if she was certain, but he knew she would let him know in her own time. He wouldn’t push her. He wanted her to come to him on her own.

Hell, he’d wanted to seduce her since the moment he’d laid eyes on her and remembered her kiss from so many years before. But he’d learned rather quickly that despite appearances, Vivian was vulnerable and he had no desire to hurt her. He admired her, liked her even. She was strong and smart. He had every intention of marrying her now that he’d settled himself on the idea. It all made sense. He knew as well as he knew anything that his desire for her would never wane, which meant he couldn’t, in good conscience, marry someone else. But this first time he wanted her to come to him.

“Marcus,” she said quietly. She tilted her head back and met his gaze. Her warm, chocolate-brown eyes locked onto his. “Make love to me.”

He kept quiet and watched her, and there in her eyes, he saw the certainty. So he pulled her closer to him and kissed her. When he came up for air, he said, “Say it again.”

“Make love to me, Marcus.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” And he kissed her again, taking her mouth with fierceness. He ran his hands up her body and found her right breast. The hammock swayed gently between the trees rocking them as they kissed and as he explored her body.

“You have too many clothes on.”

“Remove them, then. Tear the fabric, just please, touch me.”

He chuckled. He rolled her to him so he could reach the buttons at the back of her dress. He unfastened enough of them so that the bodice gaped and was easily pulled down, exposing her corset and shift. Through the filmy fabric of the shift he could see her breasts rising above the corset.

“Perfect,” he murmured.

“I want you to touch my skin,” she said. “I want to touch you.”

She was eager for him and the mere thought of her slick folds had him so hard his trousers became painfully tight. “Here, stand up.” He came out of the hammock and pulled her to her feet beside him.

While she waited he took the blanket he’d brought to cover himself and spread it upon the ground. “For what we’ll be doing, we had to get out of that or else we’d likely pull the trees down atop us.”

“I doubt that is possible,” she said. Her impish grin was likely the most seductive thing he’d seen. God, she was beautiful. Illuminated by moonlight and the small lantern hanging behind her. Her dinner gown hung off her shoulders, causing the fabric to gape below her breasts. Her arousal had stained the skin above them a pale pink.

“Let’s get you the rest of the way out of this dress,” he said. “And whatever other contraptions you’re wearing underneath.” He turned her around so he could see the rest of the buttons. Her hair remained pinned up in the fashion she’d worn earlier that night so it wasn’t in his way when he began on the buttons. One by one he unfastened them until the fabric slid down her arms, off her waist and pooled at her feet. He was then faced with her corset.

He’d never found corsets particularly attractive, but with Vivian, he wanted to see her, see everything, not miss one single detail, one single moment. He had her step out of the gown and then he placed it gently on the hammock behind him.

The corset cinched in her waist, accenting her full hips and even fuller breasts. The sight of her standing there in the moonlight in her undergarments was intoxicating, but he wanted to touch her bare skin. Once again, he turned her so he could work on the laces at her back and she released a sigh as he loosened them. He removed the corset, then her drawers and finally her shift until she stood gloriously and unabashedly naked in front of him.

Her chin tilted up and she fidgeted with her hands at her sides. Slowly she turned to meet his gaze.

Her rosy tipped breasts were firm and plump and everything a breast should be. For several moments he simply stared, memorizing every line and curve of her breasts, then he lowered his mouth and covered the tip.

“Perfection,” he said. He kissed her then, running his hand down her back to her rounded backside. He gave her bottom a little swat and nibbled at her lip.

He laid her down on the blanket. “Are you too cold?”

She shook her head. “You’ll warm me.”

Her pale skin, the very color of moonlight, was perfect, flawless. He wasn’t certain where to touch her first. “I want to look at you for a moment, take you in.” Her legs were shapely and curved in all the right places. Her hips were generous and practically insisted he grab them to pull her to him, but he wasn’t done drinking her in. Her waist narrowed, and her navel begged for kisses, and her breasts, ah, her glorious breasts, they were full and beautiful. The areolas were dark, her nipples erect and perfectly pink. He could resist no more. He took one in each hand, weighing them, loving the feel of them in his hands. He kissed the tip of one and then the tip of the other.

“So, so beautiful,” he said. His arm snaked around her body and pulled her to him. Now he was wearing too many clothes. He wanted to feel her skin against his, feel her curves, the very feminine bits of her against him. She was all curves and softness where he was angular and hard.

They lay down on the blanket and he kissed her all the while exploring her breasts, her shoulders, her waist, her hips, everything he could reach. He wanted to touch her everywhere.

Chapter Fifteen

He’d told her she was beautiful so many times lately, she was almost ready to believe him. But she couldn’t focus on that now because of what his mouth was doing to her body. Oh, the wicked things he could do. Her wanton flesh responded to him as if she’d been created for this very moment, as if her entire life had built up to this night with this man.

Marcus Kincaid.

His tongue continued to move over her sensitive breast until she didn’t think she could bear any more and then he sucked her nipple into his mouth and gave her some relief. But then his hand moved down her abdomen to the center between her legs. He splayed his fingers against her, cupping her most intimate flesh.

She waited for the shame and embarrassment to take hold, for the urgency to push him away and flee from this night, but she felt only desire, only the need to be with him right here, right now. They weren’t in the house with the rest of the guests; they were here under the stars, in Marcus’s world. No, there weren’t any snarling lions off in the jungle, but they were here without walls, without limits, and tonight she would be his in every way.

He stopped and rolled off her, and for one panicked moment she thought he intended to leave her, but instead he merely stood to remove his clothes. He toed his shoes off, then unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way. He removed his trousers and there was not a stitch of clothing underneath.

She gasped.

He looked up and smiled. “I grew accustomed to not wearing drawers during my travels.” He tilted his head and gave her a naughty grin. “This is so much more freeing and efficient.”

And then there he was, tall and athletic and muscular and so much more than she’d allowed herself to imagine. “Oh my,” she said.

He chuckled and crawled back onto the blanket, but this time he started at her feet, kissed both of them gently, then slowly moved up her leg, kissing her shin and picking her leg up to cradle it before his wicked mouth found the tender skin behind her knee. His tongue swirled and his teeth nipped and she gripped the blanket in handfuls trying not to cry out into the night. Up her inner thigh, stopping to bite and tease. She squirmed and moaned and when his mouth found her core, she threaded both hands through his hair. She was a wanton, no denying that. No true lady would allow such behavior and she not only allowed it, she loved it, every tortuous lick and suckle. His moans brought her over the edge and she arched her back as the first waves of pleasure rolled through her.

He continued his sweet torture until she cried out, begging him to give her sensitive flesh a reprieve. He continued kissing up her body as he’d done before. Lavishing sweet kisses along her abdomen, in her navel, across her waist. He nipped and suckled, exploring every inch of her it seemed, just as he’d told her once that he longed to do. Had he truly been desiring her the way she had him?

His hands slid up her torso and he cupped both of her breasts and then his mouth was on them, teasing until she thought she would go mad. She felt the fires flare up inside her, and scorching lust thrummed through her veins. Yes, she was a wanton, but certainly this man was different, special somehow. His mere touch robbed her mind of coherent thought. She felt no shame, only desire, and he made her feel…treasured.

“Sweet, sweet Vivi, you are so lovely,” he murmured. He nuzzled her neck and she could feel the hard length of him resting against her core. She wanted him. Now. Inside her. She parted her legs further, but still he continued his maddening exploration of her body.

“You’re torturing me,” she said.

He chuckled. “Not on purpose, love. I was merely enjoying myself. I thought you too were at least somewhat amused.” He moved himself so that the tip of his erection sat at her opening. She tried in vain to push him inside.

“Yes, I am, it is merely that I find myself rather eager to move things along.”

This got her a roar of laughter. “Woman, you are the only one I have known that can be simultaneously seductive and humorous.” He pushed against her but did not slide all the way in. “Is this what you want?”

She knew it was more than likely disgraceful to ask such a thing, but at the moment she no longer cared. “Yes, please. I want you inside me.”

He groaned, a low guttural groan, and then he entered her, filling her up and yet making her crave more all at the same time. She bucked against him, wrapped her legs around his hips.

He kissed her throat, and then he began to move. Deeper and deeper, harder and harder until she thought she’d go mad from the sweet torture. She met his every thrust, gripped his shoulders, closed her eyes and waited for the explosion of ecstasy to rocket through her. She did not have long to wait. The sensation started at her very core and then shattered. He rode her climax until he reached his own, emptying himself inside her with a deep moan.

She realized in that moment that perhaps a wanton wasn’t the very worst thing a woman could be.

…

The following afternoon Marcus found himself standing in the parlor whilst the rain poured outside. Their hostess had arranged for some parlor games to amuse the guests as they waited for the evening’s entertainment, a ball to close out the weekend party. He intended to propose to Vivian that night.

Round tables had been brought in for people to play hazard or whist, but someone had suggested a game of charades might be just the thing.

Marcus searched the large room for Vivian but found no sight of her. She hadn’t been at breakfast, either. Perhaps she was simply tired from their night of lovemaking. He had taken her twice more before she’d crept back into her room just as dawn was breaching the horizon.

So here he was in one of the more mundane society functions, but now that he had entered the room, there was truly no polite way for him to make an exit. He could not claim business, as he was not in his own home. Were he a woman he could beg off with a headache, but men never complained of such ailments. He would manage to entertain himself in some fashion.

The charades began. First up was Lady Constance, which did not surprise him in the least. She seemed determined to be the center of attention. She read the slip of paper, smiled broadly, and began her acting.

And it was then that he saw her, seated across the room on a blue and green settee. Diana Cosgrove. He had seen her briefly since she’d arrived, but had yet to make her acquaintance. And, truth be told, he was still most curious as to why she bore Vivian such ill will. There was clearly something between the women, but Vivian claimed to have never even met her. He had no reason not to believe Vivian. It was an interesting enough scenario that he walked across the room and took the seat next to the settee.

He might not be the most mannered of gentlemen, but he most certainly knew how to deal with women. There were plenty of times when wives had come on his adventure tours, following behind their husbands certain of boredom and not looking forward to watching their spouses hunt exotic animals for several weeks. More than once those very wives had wandered into his tent at night, looking for an adventure of their own. He had never been in the habit of bedding other men’s wives, though, so he’d flirted and charmed until they’d turned right back around and hopefully gone and crawled between their own men’s blankets.

“Miss Cosgrove, I am told,” he said smoothly.

Her eyes lit and she smiled. It wasn’t a particularly warm smile, but rather more similar to that of a cat’s after lapping up a bowl of warmed cream. “My lord,” she said. “We haven’t been properly introduced.”

He grinned. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Her smile broadened. “I do like the way you think. How are you enjoying my cousin’s little party away from the city?”

“It is a welcome break from London.”

“I doubt you truly mean that, but I’ll nod nonetheless.”

“Miss Cosgrove, I do believe you might be somewhat of a provocateur.”

She shrugged daintily. “I do what I can to keep myself entertained.”

They both fell quiet to watch the charades. Lady Constance was growing more and more incensed with her movements. People were shouting out their guesses until finally someone hit on it.

“Peacock,” Marcus whispered right before the guest at the front of the room yelled it out. Lady Constance smiled and clapped.

“How goes the wife hunting?” Diana asked.

Now, that surprised him. Having that skill at observation could make a person dangerous. He felt it was imperative he discover the root of her dislike of Vivian. If Vivian was to be his wife, he would protect her at all costs and that meant ferreting out whatever problem, imagined or otherwise, this woman had with his would-be bride. “I had not realized that my marital situation was grist for the mill.”

“An eligible earl? Of course women talk. It is why we are here this weekend, it is not?” she asked. “Well, not myself, of course, but many of the marriageable women, they are here for you to pick among them.”

“I suppose that is true,” he said.

“But you are not interested in them, are you?” She smiled, but no humor or warmth lit her eyes. “No, I’ve seen the way you look at another woman. She entered the room a while ago, and she’s been watching you.” Diana leaned forward.

Marcus turned to look and there was Vivian near the front of the room. She appeared to be engaged in the charades.

“You are most perceptive, Miss Cosgrove. Do you know Miss March, then?” He could come right out and ask the woman why she bore Vivian such ill will, but he suspected that when it came to Diana Cosgrove, she would be far more honest if he played her little game.

She grinned, but it was almost a baring of her teeth more than a smile. “We have met, but briefly. I cannot say I have the pleasure of knowing her,” she said, putting unnecessary emphasis on the word “knowing.” “She is a little old for you, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I am not concerned about her age—or mine, for that matter. She is not nearly as old as she’d have people believe.” Then he paused and they once again went back to watching the game. At the moment Clarissa was doing her best to convince Vivian that because she’d guessed correctly, it was her turn to act out a word.

“You dislike her,” he said.

She shrugged. “Ah, you are perceptive as well, my lord.”

He wanted to tell her that she had made it blatantly obvious, and had anyone been paying attention, all the world would know of her feelings toward Vivian, but he merely nodded.

“We have a mutual…friend.” She waved her hand. “It is of no consequence. I am certain she is a lovely lady. I do not even know her.”

“Indeed.” He wanted to push her more, but he could tell she had closed herself to that conversation. And she truly had given him plenty of information. Miss Cosgrove and the Frederick who had sent Vivian her letter were obviously connected. “It does not mean that we cannot be friends,” he said. He’d always found the old military advice about keeping your allies near, but your foes closer still to be sound.

Her eyebrows rose. “I should like that, my lord.”

Clarissa had convinced Vivian to try her hand at the acting part of charades. Vivian glanced at the piece of paper she’d drawn and rolled her eyes heavenward. For a brief moment she met his gaze, then quickly looked away.

“You do not care for parlor games?” he asked Diana.

“Not particularly. I don’t see the point in them,” she said coolly.

“’Tis what we already do though, if you consider it. At least, most people. Charades,” he said.

She gave him a smart smile. “I feel as if you’ve handed me a riddle, my lord.”

“People act out in certain ways to create a perception in others’ minds of how we want to be seen,” he said.

“Handsome and a philosopher,” she said. “Impressive.”

“Wouldn’t you agree? In English society, in particular, we’re taught from a very young age to act accordingly. We know what behaviors are proper, but to many it is denying their true nature.” It was a subtle insult and he’d be duly impressed if she understood it enough to be offended.

“You believe us all to be dishonest, then?” she asked.

“Aren’t we, Miss Cosgrove?”

“Please call me Diana.” She practically purred as she put her hand against his.

He nodded. “Very well, Diana.” So she wasn’t so perceptive that she’d caught the meaning of his words.

Someone called out Vivian’s word and she was finally able to return to her seat, but she did not look back at him again.

“What you call deception, I believe most would call civilized behavior.”

He smiled. “Tell me, Diana, why are you not husband hunting?”

“I have never seen the reason to saddle myself with a husband. I have plenty of money. I have a lovely home. And I take whatever lover—” She paused over the word, allowing her green eyes to roam down his body. “—I choose.”

She seemed the wrong sort of nemesis for Vivian to have, but then again, he was surprised by the blackmail. The note had been personal, not bullying Vivian for information she held on some other family, but rather her own secret. A secret that Miss Cosgrove no doubt knew, but he did not. It made for an uneven battlefield, though he doubted Diana would fight fairly regardless. Marcus could easily tell that Diana Cosgrove was not a woman to be trifled with.

Vivian did her best to pay attention to the game of charades, but her mind was focused elsewhere. Last night she’d spent a glorious evening of lovemaking in Marcus’s arms and yet the first time she’d seen him, he was flirting with another woman. Blatantly flirting, and in the very same manner he’d pursued her. Perhaps he had played her for a fool and she’d once again succumbed to the wrong man’s charms.

Granted, this time was slightly different. She was older now, and knew what to expect. Certainly knew not to allow her heart to get involved. She had loved Frederick, or at least had believed so at the time. But with Marcus, it was pure desire and she knew that. Her heart wouldn’t get broken. She wouldn’t be that foolish again.

Of course, none of that explained the awful feeling she had as she watched that other woman reach over and put her hand on Marcus’s arm. She expected to feel guilty and now she felt the guilt, but she had made her choice.