Scoundrel (Lost Lords of Radcliffe Book 4) (10 page)

The woman liked it very much. She moaned and squirmed, and their hips rocked together in a stirring rhythm that Faith’s body recognized. Her own nipples ached and throbbed, and she was overheated, her pulse racing, her skin prickling with goose bumps.

The woman widened her thighs and wrapped her legs around Mr. Hubbard’s waist, and the rocking motion of their hips increased. He was tugging at the drawstring on her trousers, on his own trousers too, as if he intended to take them off.

Faith had scant information as to how adults acted when they were alone. She understood that they performed physical acts on each other, but the details had never been explained, and in her cloistered world, there was no one to ask.

Suddenly, from right next to her a soft voice said, “What is Mr. Hubbard doing? Is he fighting with the servant girl?”

Horrified, Faith peered down at Millie. Her sisters were skipping down the hall too.

Mr. Hubbard and his concubine had heard Millie’s question, and they halted in their foray, both of them frowning over at Millie. Looking aghast, the woman rolled away and dragged a pillow over her bosom while Mr. Hubbard rose up on his knees, though what he thought to do Faith couldn’t guess.

Faith told Millie, “No, they were getting ready for a nap.”

She grabbed Millie and yanked her away, then she hurried to her siblings so they wouldn’t reach the room and peek in at the sordid scene. She deftly guided them in the opposite direction.

“Are you finished with your snack?” she inquired.

“Yes,” Mary answered. “We were very hungry too.”

Martha added, “Mr. Hubbard and Mr. Robertson were practicing their fencing. Did you see them? They were very grand.”

“I did see them,” Faith said as she hustled them away.

They arrived at a corner and she pushed them around it, but she forced herself to glance back. Mr. Hubbard was standing in the doorway of his bedchamber, attired in just his trousers, no shirt, no shoes, his long hair brushing his shoulders.

He was scowling, his expression seeming to blame Faith for what had occurred. She yearned to shout,
I wasn’t the one consorting with a doxy! I wasn’t the one misbehaving out in the open where anyone—even a child—could stumble on you
.

But she didn’t say any of it. She simply shook her head in derision, letting him know how disappointed she was, how upset to have his true character revealed. Why was she surprised? From the first moment they’d met, she’d recognized his corrupt nature.

Yet there was no shaming him. He shrugged and grinned and went back inside to—she could only suspect—begin again with his pretty trollop.

She whipped away and continued on.

CHAPTER SIX

“Hello, Sister Faithful.”

Faith jumped and whipped around, and Chase smirked, humored by how he unnerved her.

It was the prettiest part of the evening. The sun had just set, and the sky was a soothing shade of purple, the Mediterranean a deep indigo. Very soon the light would fade, and it would be dark night.

All afternoon he’d pretended she and Millicent hadn’t stumbled into the middle of his tryst. He’d
tried
but hadn’t succeeded. Though it was incredibly odd, he was in a shocking state of chagrin.

He was never sorry for any mischief he committed. It was a huge flaw in his character that he’d never been able to mend.

After the incident, he’d debated seeking her out immediately to apologize, but she was a guest he hadn’t invited. From the start, he’d warned her she shouldn’t stay, but she hadn’t heeded him. She wouldn’t tarry much longer though. Clearly it was not a reputable spot for her or for children, and he was hardly a role model anyone should esteem.

“What are you doing in here, Mr. Hubbard?” She stuck her pert nose up in the air.

“I thought we should talk about what happened.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I want you to leave me alone.”

It was precisely the wrong comment. He was the most contrary person in the world. If he was told he couldn’t or shouldn’t do something, he instantly proceeded.

They were in her bedchamber, with her over by the French windows that led onto the verandah. Her disdain blatant, she turned away, rudely showing him her back. She gazed out at the water, ignoring him and watching the colors change.

He blustered in as if he had every right to enter her private quarters, as if he was an Arabian potentate who could behave however he liked. He approached until he was directly behind her, and to his consternation, his senses sparked as if they were suddenly overloaded. The agitation rattled him, made him desperate to press himself to her so he could feel her all the way down.

Earlier in the day, he’d been fencing with Ralston. Chase had been trained as a swordsman in Cairo, with his friend Bryce Blair, by their host André Valois. Chase and Bryce had traveled to Egypt together, thinking it would be a lark, a bland holiday. But as they’d rapidly determined, Africa was a dangerous place, and they’d had none of the skills needed to survive in the hostile environment.

They’d met with so many catastrophes that they’d had to learn to defend themselves, to fight back, to survive. He’d become an expert with a blade, with a dagger and his fists too, and he was teaching Ralston the same skills. They had lessons every afternoon.

He’d glanced up to find Faith spying on him, and he’d been smugly flattered to see that he fascinated her, that she couldn’t look away. She’d removed her wimple, and her pretty hair had been tied with a ribbon. He was vain enough to suppose she’d done it for him.

She still hadn’t covered it, and he couldn’t resist running a palm down the lengthy strands.

She sidled away and glared at him over her shoulder.

“Please go,” she said.

“You should know an important detail about me, Sister Faithful.”

“What is it?”

“I never do what I’m told. Haven’t we already had this conversation? I’m sure we have. I never listen to women.”

Her glare deepened, and when she realized she couldn’t force him out with a glower, she left instead. She stepped onto the verandah and went to the balustrade to peer down at the sea. He followed, coming up behind her again, and this time he leaned in and trapped her on the rail. He was being a boor, but couldn’t seem to stop.

She elbowed him, which had no effect, so she squirmed around and frowned up at him. She appeared distressed and sad, her blue eyes condemning and reproachful, but if she imagined a bit of censure would affect him, she was gravely mistaken.

He couldn’t be shamed. He lacked the moral fiber others possessed in abundance. He wished he could declare he’d lost it somewhere, or it had been drummed out of him, but he’d never had any decent traits.

“Haven’t you caused enough trouble?” she asked.

“How have I caused trouble?”

“What if I hadn’t been blocking that doorway? What if Millicent had walked in as you were…were…” She couldn’t verbally describe what she’d witnessed.

“She didn’t see anything awful,” he insisted. “You yanked her away so why are you upset?”

“You don’t know why?”

“No. I’ve never claimed to be a saint.”

“You tumble the servants!”

“Not against their will,” he huffed. “She offered.”

“Seriously? You expect me to believe she was just dying to debase herself?”

“She wasn’t debased. She was merely doing what she does best.”

“Which is what?” she sneered.

“She was trained in Algiers as a sex slave.”

It was very likely the most shocking remark ever uttered in her presence, and she was aghast. “She’s a slave?”

“Yes, and she’s no better than she has to be. Debauchery is her stock and trade. She’s extremely valuable and very conceited about her ability.”

“You…you…
own
her?”

“No,” he scoffed. “I couldn’t afford to.”

“Aren’t you special?” she mocked. “If she’s so valuable, why is she here? Where’s her owner? Why didn’t he take her when he departed?”

“I can’t guess what happened. He simply picked up and fled with his family. He abandoned his servants and like the rest of us, she doesn’t have anywhere to go.”

She shook her head with disgust. “The man’s family was in residence, and he had a concubine living under his roof?”

“Rich men do those things, Faith. If you don’t understand that fact, then it only proves that you’ve been much too sheltered in your life.”

“Why would his wife let him dishonor her like that?”

“Maybe he was a brute, and she had no power to make him desist. Maybe she didn’t like her husband, and she was happy to have him turn to another. Maybe he liked variety in his mistresses. Men transgress for any number of reasons.”

“What’s your excuse?”

“I enjoy salacious conduct.”

At the admission, his cheeks flushed, and for once he was actually a tad embarrassed.

Not so much that Faith had seen him. She was too prudish and could definitely benefit from some scandal and outrage. But he didn’t like that Millie had been there. He’d never spent time around little girls, and when he’d snuck off for his rendezvous, he hadn’t considered her at all.

“Are you a libertine?” she asked.

“Yes,” he unabashedly replied. “I assumed you knew that about me.”

She snorted with derision. “Well, I knew you were rude and surly, but I hadn’t wondered as to your dissolute habits. Now that I reflect on it, I’m certain you have plenty.”

“I do.”

“You sound proud of it.”

“I’m just me, Faith. I’m just Chase Hubbard. I’ve never been moral or civilized. It’s not in my nature, and I make no apologies.”

“The longer you talk, the more I grasp how true that statement is.” She glanced away. “I thought you had to be wed to…to…”

“To consort with a person who’s not your spouse?”

“Yes.”

“It’s physical behavior. Any oaf who’s in the mood can attempt it. Think of all those girls you’ve heard of who got in trouble with a neighbor boy. It always ends with a swift wedding.”

“But it’s called the
marital
act.”

“That’s because wedded couples regularly engage in it. Once the ring is on a woman’s finger, it’s allowed. Married people can perform it as often as they wish, but before the ceremony, they’re supposed to restrain themselves.”

“If you’re not married, it’s a sin. Aren’t you worried about your immortal soul?”

He waved a hand down his tanned, muscled, mostly-naked torso. “Do I look like I ever contemplate my sins or my soul?”

“No.”

“Besides, it’s preachers who rail about damnation. Remember what I told you?”

“You don’t listen to anyone.”

“Exactly.”

She laughed miserably and raised her gaze to his again. “What is the
act
that’s kept such a secret? I’ve never been clear on the particulars.”

“I’m not the man to explain it to you. I’m sure I’d embarrass you.”

“I’m sure you would too.”

She was still pinned to the balustrade and hadn’t moved away. He liked being so close to her. The sparks had ignited again, the air around them enlivened, and he felt content in a way he never was.

“You’re very pretty tonight,” he said.

“Don’t tell me that.”

“Why shouldn’t I? It’s true.”

“It’s not proper for you to flatter me. It’s not right.”

“I don’t give two figs about what’s proper or right.”

“I realize you don’t, but
I
give two figs.”

“You shouldn’t. You’d be a lot happier.”

“I’m happy now,” she claimed.

“Are you?”

“Yes,” she firmly stated, but he was positive she was lying.

What woman would willingly choose to be a nun? From the details she’d shared, it sounded as if she’d entered the convent in a fit of pique, to escape her horrid cousin. All these years later, it was probably difficult to rescind her decision.

Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe her father had paid the convent a ton of money to accept her. It was how those establishments worked, and he doubted she could get a refund. And if she could leave, where would she go? Back to her scheming father and the cousin she loathed? He couldn’t imagine her relenting.

“You were watching me while I was fencing,” he said.

“Only by accident. I heard the swords clanging, and I came to learn what was occurring.”

“Really? After you saw it was me, weren’t you enthralled? I fascinate you. You can admit it.”

“Yes, you fascinate me. I won’t deny it, but it’s not in a good way. It’s more in the way that I might stare at a poisonous snake, hoping I can discern which direction it intends to strike so I can prevent people from being injured.”

“You took off your wimple. You’ve been strutting about with your hair uncovered.”

“I was hot.”

“Did you do it for me?”

“I was
hot
,” she insisted again. “
You
had nothing to do with it.”

He sighed. “You’re too fussy and grumpy, Faith. You act as if you’re eighty. You could be my grandmother.”

“I’m not fussy or grumpy,” she grumpily countered. “I’m choosey and exacting—both in my behaviors and with my acquaintances.”

“If you’d spent days floating in the ocean, if you’d washed up on shore—shaken and stunned and barely alive—if you’d stumbled into this marvelous villa, tell me you’d have walked away and staggered into the desert to starve. Tell me that—if you can.”

“I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t judge me quite so harshly.”

She peered up at him, looking young and lost and completely out of her element, and he suffered a wave of pity for her.

It made him anxious to protect her, to take care of her. He’d never previously experienced a similar sentiment, and the feeling scared him to death. He was an unreliable cad and bounder who was totally self-centered and couldn’t be trusted.

Though he didn’t understand why, she tantalized him beyond measure. There was the oddest fluttering in his belly, and he was astonished to recognize it as his conscience flickering to life. But he quickly poured a cold glass of water on that flame, refusing to allow any sympathy to flourish.

He couldn’t help her. He didn’t want to help her. He hadn’t the means or the will or the tenacity of spirit.