Wicked and Wonderful (2 page)

“Oh, la, me lord,” she returned, feigning the coarse accents of a tavern wench. “Oy suppose ye be thinking oy ought to be fully compleemented by yer addresses. Well, ain’t oy the daft un.”

He narrowed his eyes trying to make her out. What game was she at that she would adopt such a wretched accent? But more importantly, why did she seem so disinclined to flirt with him?

A new idea struck, one that made sense. “Are you with the acting troupe that has recently set up camp in my fields?”

She gasped and pressed a hand to the sloppy bow of a very poorly tied neckcloth. “How could you even think such a thing,” she said, now speaking in her proper accents. She now appeared to be outraged.

He narrowed his gaze at her once more. “Because I cannot explain your presence here otherwise.”

“Well, I am not with such a troupe and though I did notice a great deal of tents in your pasture, I supposed that a band of gypsies was taking advantage of you.”

Kelthorne was rarely knocked out of stride, but he still didn’t understand the woman before him. She seemed to be a lady of quality, with some natural acting abilities, but her speech could no more have placed her with the acting troupe than Rufus was a hunting dog. “Then you simply take pleasure in practicing the accents of the lowly born.”

“As it happens, I do. My, er, uncle is quite amused by my efforts to imitate this or that accent”

“Your uncle? You live nearby then?”

“I suppose you will learn the truth regardless, but as it happens, yes, I do.”

He smiled rather slowly. “This is most encouraging. Though I wonder why I have not met you before.”

“My uncle is rather shy of his neighbors. We do not go out in company much.”

“That is a great pity.”

He leaned down to take a kiss, but she recoiled in apparent horror.

“I beg you will let me go, my lord. I... am not such a female as you seem to think me to be.”

In his rather vast experience of young ladies, it was a rarity indeed that his lures would be repulsed so firmly and especially not when he made his identity known. The lady, it would seem, was full of surprises. But neither was he in the least discouraged by her repulse. He was fully confident of his powers and decided not to waste another moment.

He took her in his arms abruptly and held her against his chest. “Let me make my intentions plain,” he murmured. “I shall only keep you from the constable by having a kiss from you.”

“A kiss you shall not have,” she said. Much to his surprise, she began to struggle. She was the first woman he had ever known to do so. Even the most properly well-bred young ladies he decided to torment tended to swoon rather than kick up a dust.

She aimed the hard toes of her boots and struck his legs forcefully. He would have been injured had his own boots not offered ample protection. At the same time, she swung her elbows and her arms, twisting back and forth.

He was not impervious to a sharp elbow now and then and he knew he would sport more than one bruise on the morrow for she was rather skilled in her maneuvers. Still, he held her firmly, if loosely, and began matching each of her assaults with subtle shifts of his hands and body. He was well muscled from hunting, boxing, and fencing and quite able to disarm the majority of the mischief she aimed at him. But he had never thought his expertise would have benefited him in such a way.

“Let me go, you horrid rake.”

She was a wild thing in his arms. He could only laugh, which served to increase her wrenching, pulling, and kicking.

He forced her to stop at last by wrapping one leg about both of hers and clamping her so tightly against him that he doubted she could breathe. “A kiss,” he said, “Or I shall never let you go and if you think for a moment to wear me down, let me just say that I took part in a wager once in which I stood on a fence post, on one leg, for two-and-a-half hours. I know how to stay the course. And right now, you are my course.”

At that, she relaxed though breathing hard from her exertions as she stared up at him. Moonlight filtered once more through the apple trees, breached an opening among the leaves, and revealed her features in milky perfection.

He was dumbstruck.

His little thief was an absolute beauty. Her eyes, perhaps dark brown, though he could not be certain in the dim light, were almond-shaped, her brows sculpted in gentle arches that gave her a patrician appearance. Her nose was straight and perfect, her cheekbones high and pronounced in the prettiest manner, her lips full, her chin faintly dimpled.

“Sweet Aphrodite,” he murmured softly. She was perhaps the loveliest female he had ever seen. “I had thought you pretty, but I now see that you are utterly enchanting. Good God! What the devil are you doing out so late at night when any adventurer might have found you?”

“What?” She was obviously stunned, but she had begun to smile. “Do you know what an absurd thing it is you have just said to me, when you, my lord, are the adventurer? Or am I mistaken and ‘tis someone else who is holding me captive and insisting on a kiss before I am to be released?”

“Well,” he said, feeling amused once more, for she was very right, “that is a very different thing entirely for if you do not know already, I promise you that though I am an adventurer, you may trust me.”

She laughed anew.

“Upon my honor,” he continued. “‘Tis true. You may inquire of my friends and acquaintances and only one answer will return to you—Kelthorne is a man of his word. I do not hesitate to say that there are a hundred more who would have used you very ill in this moment.”

She laughed more heartily still, or at least as well as she was able given how tightly he held her. “Yet, you hold me in your arms quite against my will. Besides, have you not the smallest notion, my lord, as to the wretched extent of your reputation?”

“As to that,” he returned piously. “I have never injured an innocent nor advanced my interest beyond the desires of the lady.” He lifted a brow.

“I hardly know what to say. You seem to abide by your own peculiar code of conduct. And since you are profoundly stronger than I, and I have grown fatigued, there is nothing left, I suppose, but to allow you the kiss you are so insistent upon having.”

“Much better,” he said, feeling very pleased with her acquiescence. He lessened his grip.

“I only beg that you will be quick about the business. My, er, uncle will be missing me sorely.”

Kelthorne glanced about the ground. “Will he be overset that you have failed in your object of collecting my apples for his kitchen?”

“Abominably so. He will probably beat me.”

He laughed. “Yet I do not sense the smallest fear in you on that score. What are you about, miss?”

“If I tell you, will you permit me to depart in peace?”

“Without a kiss?” he asked.

“Aye.”

He shook his head. “I would rather have my kiss than a hundred confessions.”

She sighed heavily. “Then have done with it.” She closed her eyes and tilted her head back so that once more the moonlight grazed her face.

He withheld another surprised gasp for he vowed even in London, whether consorting with the pretty in the drawing rooms of Mayfair or with the petticoat brigade in the East End, he had never seen such a beautiful woman. He wondered precisely how old she was. Glancing at her youthful manner of presenting her lips for kissing, puckered as they were, he rather thought she was quite young as well as lacking in any significant experience, twenty at least, perhaps one or two, but not much more.

Well, after tonight, he hoped she would have a new measure by which to judge all future kisses. He slid his hand behind her neck and leaned very close. Although, if she thought he would kiss a pair of lips that presently resembled a prune, she was greatly mistaken. As he readied himself he could only imagine what her thoughts might be.

*** *** ***

Judith did not comprehend in the least why he did not tend to business. She waited and waited and was about to demand that he take what it was he required, when she suddenly felt an odd whisper of air on her cheek followed by a very tender kiss in the same spot. She ceased pursing her lips and would have inquired what he was doing, but another whisper of air touched her cheek along with another kiss. A shiver raced from her ear down her side and her breath caught again. A series of such airy whispers and kisses followed until it was as though a continuous stream of shivers slid over her neck and side, sometimes even down her right leg.

She began to smile, for the whole experience seemed rather silly and yet exceedingly pleasing. What a strange man Kelthorne was. She wondered if this was how a rogue tended to his victims. She should have objected, but she could not seem to open her throat to begin a protest. When, however, the little puffs of air and small kisses reached her ear, her smiles gave way to a string of gasps. What on earth was the fellow doing?

She lifted her hand and caught his arm awkwardly, trying to fend off this strange new assault but he took her hand in his and held it firmly cradled against his arm. Again, she felt the need to protest, but she found she could not form a single word on her lips. She felt confused, every rational thought obliterated by whispers of air. Really, it was quite extraordinary.

An odd sound trembled in her throat, but still no words emerged to halt the rogue in his progress, for now he was kissing her neck and whispering air over it all at the same time. More shivers, lightning-like this time, raced one after the other down her back.

“Kelthorne,” she finally managed, but so hoarsely she sounded liked a frog. Whatever he was about, he should most definitely cease at once.

Her use of his name had an effect. The whispery air ceased, but without warning his mouth was on hers, very hard and deliberate, so different from all the other migrating kisses. At the same time, he released her hand and she found she was grateful that he was still holding her tightly, now about the waist, for both her arms simply dangled at her sides. Her head drifted backward as if she were floating in a dream and his lips followed. She was as limp as a doll made of knotted rags.

After a very long moment, the kiss ended and he drew back ever so slightly, still holding her fast, one arm still firmly about her waist, the other holding her back. She found she was now staring up between the leaves of the trees. Ethereal clouds drifted beyond the leaves, teasing the moon.

“I believe I should keep you chained to my bed,” she said. She blinked once, then twice. Her head cleared and panic rolled through her. Oh, dearest Lord in heaven. Had she actually spoken these words aloud? She had thought them, of course, but had she indeed let them pass her lips?

His abrupt laughter bespoke the truth and as he drew her toward him so that she was once more upright and looking into his eyes, she felt a hot blush instantly suffuse her entire face. What must he think of her?

“I am so sorry,” she said. “To have said such a thing—! I never meant…that is, I should never think to do anything so...that is, I cannot imagine why I said such a…and of course I do not have any chains at all.”

She gasped anew. She was reminded of digging deep pits, deeper and deeper.

Kelthorne began to laugh, throwing his head back. “What a darling you are,” he said, gathering her up once more. “And I should let you keep me chained to your bed, at least part of each day.” His smile nearly made her swoon. So this was what it was to be seduced by a rogue. How dreadful. How dreadful and how wonderful all at the same time. No wonder innocent maids, if they were not very careful, could be persuaded to relinquish what should only be given in matrimony.

She spoke rapidly. “No, no. Pray forget that I said such a wicked thing. I did not mean to. I spoke my thoughts aloud and never should have done so for I fear I will have given you such notions of me. But I promise you, my lord, I am not such a female.”

“In that I believe you either to be greatly mistaken or you are telling a monstrous whisker. Regardless, you shall not hear a single reproach from me. Your apologies are completely and utterly rejected.”

At that Judith stiffened. She could see that Kelthorne meant to continue as he had begun. She had to bring this unfortunate conversation to an end. “I beg you will release me as you promised. You told me earlier I could trust you. Will you now make a mockery of your honor?”

“Tell me your name first.”

She hesitated, but saw little harm in it. “Judith.”

“Well,
Judith,
go home to your uncle, only do not imagine for a moment that I shall rest until I have found you again. I fully intend to make you a gift of the chains you say you do not have in your possession.”

“How vile you are,” she said.

He merely laughed in response, but he was as good as his word and finally let her go. Judith turned and hurried away.

“Until we meet again,” he called after her.

She ran into the woods, not looking back as he began calling his dog.

She had not advanced far, however, when she remembered her shawl, her hat, and the apples. She stopped and returned to the edge of the beech wood where she could not be seen. She saw the earl walking his horse slowly in the direction of the town.

“Kelthorne,” she murmured, her fingers touching her lips quite unwittingly.

Rufus bounded along beside the now trotting horse. She remained watching him for several minutes until he disappeared into the lane that led to the castle. She glanced up at the turreted outer wall visible in the moonlight, wondering what it was like to live in such an evocative dwelling.

The castle stood in strong relief, outlined by a bright moon, which now descended over the Bristol Channel not a mile from the vale. The breeze freshened from the west and the smell of the sea was strong in her nostrils. She felt changed and frightened. The awful truth came to her that a rogue had breached the careful order of her world.

Long after he had disappeared, Judith at last ventured slowly back into the orchard. She recovered her hat and shawl but retrieved only two of the apples. One of them she would give to Charles for she still needed proof that she had accomplished at least a portion of the dare. The other she meant to keep for herself as a memento. The remaining fruit, however, she left in the orchard. She simply could not bring herself to take it.