Wickeds Scandal (The Wickeds) (34 page)

He laid her face down on the bed. 
His hand ran over the globes of her buttocks. “Sutton?” She twisted her head to
look at him.

He ran a finger down her spine, watching
as she trembled at his touch. He pushed her left leg up and knelt behind
her.  He pushed two fingers inside the warm cavern of her sex.  His
fingers slid in easily.  She was already wet, ready for him.  He
thrust his fingers in again.

Alex made a mewling sound.  Her body
twisted on the bed. “Oh, God,” she said into the coverlet.

“God has nothing to do with this.” 
He nipped her on the smooth skin of her bottom.

Alex wiggled and moaned.

He was so engorged, so hard, he feared he
would come the minute his flesh entered hers.  Sutton took a deep
breath.  He wanted to hear and feel her pleasure first.  He caressed
the sensitive nub, massaging it while his fingers moved in and out.

Alex bucked, her hips pushing up in the
air. 

He pressed kisses down her back, nibbling
the pale flesh as he made his way to her plump derriere. 

She pushed herself against his hand,
rubbing herself frantically. Her muscles tightened around his embedded
fingers.  She would climax any second.  He pushed her down,
effectively ending the movement giving her so much pleasure.  Sutton
removed his fingers.

She pounded her fist into the
pillow.  “Beast.”  He heard her whimper.  “Peacock.” 

Sutton leaned over and kissed her
neck.  “Not yet, love.  Patience is a virtue.  So I’ve been
told.”

She groaned in frustration. 
“Patience is not a virtue for me.”

He pulled her back against him.  His
hands cupped her breasts, pulling at her nipples. 

“What are you doing to me?” she
murmured.  “Please. I can’t take anymore.”

He pressed his arousal, hard and firm
against her.  One hand traveled leisurely down her body, fingers dancing
through the down of her womanhood.   He moved his hand over every
part of her, but did not directly touch the delicate flesh begging for his
attention.

Alex tried to grind her body against his
hand.  She thrust ineffectually, pleading for him to touch her. 

He pulled her face against his mouth,
kissing her hard, and pushed her down on the mattress.  Grabbing several
pillows, he positioned them under her writhing hips.   

Placing himself behind her, he thrust
into her, burying himself deep within the slick folds.

Alex cried out and clawed at the
coverlet. 

He moved in and out with slow, deep
strokes, careful not to hurt her.   He reached down and worked his
fingers against her nub. 

She pushed back with her hips. 
“Harder.  Please.”

“God Alex, what are you doing to me?” He
pulled back and gripped her firmly about her hips.  He should go slow but
he couldn’t.  He pounded into her.

Alex moaned his name.  She exploded
into an intense orgasm, the contractions of her body gripping him so tightly
that they brought him to his own fierce climax.   Her body milked
him, wringing him dry.  Panting, careful not to crush her with his weight,
Sutton kissed the back of her neck.  He pulled out, gasping as her body
clung to his.

Alex flipped over, her breathing as heavy
as his own.

“Is it always like this?”  Her
innocent question drove a deep emotion through Sutton.  He pulled her to
him, kissing her ear, then her lips.  

“No.  But it will always be for
us.”  He hugged her close to his chest and wondered exactly when it was
that he had fallen in love with her.

“Happy Birthday.”

Alexandra looked up from her tea and
toast in surprise.  The knife holding the apple butter hovered above her
plate.  She had forgotten about her birthday, forgotten about everything
except her newfound happiness with Sutton.  Gray Covington was only a
day’s ride from London, but the estate felt a lifetime away.  The month
since her wedding to Sutton had been the happiest of Alexandra’s life. 
Marriage suited her, and she wondered why she’d once resisted it so
fiercely.   At least being married to Sutton suited her.  Her
loss of independence was a small price to pay to belong to the gorgeous man who
sat across from her making his way through a plate of eggs and bacon.  She
awoke everyday in a state of bliss.

“Thank you.”  She smiled back at
him, noting with pleasure the wave of inky black hair that brushed his
shoulders.  The earring hid in the shining locks, but she could see the
tiny figure in her mind’s eye.  She would never tire of looking at
Sutton.  It was like having a beautiful painting by Rembrandt or Titian
come to life.  Albeit one that teased her, argued with her and made love
to her with such startling intensity, Alexandra often thought she would die
from sheer lust.

“You are most welcome, wife.” 

“A bit smug aren’t you? How did you find
out?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but her heart thudded with fear.  Had
he written to Mr. Meechum, the Dunforth solicitor without her knowledge? 
Had Mr. Meechum told Sutton the Dowager purchased Helmsby Abbey, and Alexandra
held the deed?  She watched her husband carefully, but his expression
remained playful. 

“I have my ways, Badger.”

“Definitely very smug for a
Peacock.”  She teased him back as a flood of relief mixed with guilt
flooded through her.  Alexandra did not yet have the courage to tell him
that the Dowager gifted her with Helmsby Abbey upon their marriage. 
Sutton advanced her funds to take care of the servants there, find them new
employment or bring them to Gray Covington.  Alexandra assured him she
took care of everything.  It wasn’t completely a lie. She would have
married Sutton with or without the added enticement of her estate in Hampshire,
but she felt sure her husband would not see it that way.  She needed to
tell him.  Soon.  Would he believe her?  Believe that she loved
him for himself?  Sutton never spoke of love to her.  Wanting, but
not love. 

“Pardon, my lord.”  Zander arrived
carrying a large packet.  “The papers, my lord, from London.  There
is also a note from Miss Miranda.”  He bowed again to Sutton, then to
Alexandra before marching through the doorway.

Sutton pushed the newspapers aside and
tore open his sister’s letter.  He scanned the fine vellum, his lips
twitching, before he broke into an amused chuckle.  He tossed the letter
to Alexandra.

“What is it?”  She glanced at the
note.

“It seems that without the protection of
her brother, the notorious Satan Reynolds, Miranda is besieged with fortune
hunters and other dubious beau.  The Dowager is beside herself and took a
cane to one forward baron who tried to steal a kiss from my sister while
grandmother wasn’t looking.  And, the man smells of castor oil, which
grandmother finds particularly offensive.  Miranda claims the castor oil,
and not the attempt at stealing a kiss, is what truly incensed Grandmother. 
At any rate, Miranda begs us to return as soon as we are able in order to guard
her virtue.”

Alexandra scanned Miranda’s neat
handwriting.  She could clearly imagine the Dowager threatening the young
baron with a cane.  She missed Miranda.  Her eyes dropped to the next
paragraph.  “It seems that the only man in all of London your sister
wishes to pursue her is the only one who has not called on her in your
absence.”

Sutton scoffed.  “Tasterly. 
What does she see in that man?”

“You should make an effort to know him
better.  He fears you, and your sister is quite taken with him.” 

“I do not care for the man. I am sure he
has affection for Miranda, likely magnified by the size of her dowry.  He
is a fortune hunter.  Tasterly needs to make an excellent match as he has
frittered away a large part of his inheritance.”

“Your sister is an intelligent
woman.  If Lord Tasterly is only after her money, Miranda will figure that
out on her own.”

“It is my duty to protect her.”  The
angelic face took on a stubborn tilt.  Sutton was a bit overprotective of
his sisters, and with good reason.  But Miranda chafed under Sutton’s
restrictions.  She would assist her friend when she and Sutton returned to
London.

London.  She had no desire to ever
return.  Country living suited her much better.  The fear of seeing
her uncle or Mr. Runyon paralyzed her, even though Sutton assured her he took
precautions.  She also did not want to face society yet.

 While the talk of the ruination of
Alexandra Dunforth, and the circumstances surrounding it died down, it had not
disappeared.  Sutton and Alexandra had yet to make an appearance in
London.  This set the tongues wagging in the
ton
.  Some said
they doubted any marriage took place.  Then of course, there was the issue
of Helmsby Abbey. 

Sutton deftly sliced open another
envelope. 

Alexandra noticed the spidery hand of the
Dowager.  She watched his eyes deepen to a dark green, narrowing as he
read. 

“My stepmother has been busy. 
Gossiping and gambling, with Herbert Reynolds on her arm.  She plays the
martyr well, telling everyone who will listen about her reduced circumstances.”
Sutton folded the letter but kept it firmly in his grip.

Reduced circumstances?  Sutton had
been far more generous to Jeanette than even Alexandra felt necessary. 
Sutton purchased his stepmother a smaller, fashionable town home, staffed to
her specifications, and had given her a generous allowance. 

“Herbert is covering her debts it seems.”

“Perhaps she cares for him.”

The green gaze swung to her.  “She
cares for no one but Archie.  She never has.  Jeanette possesses not
one redeeming quality.” 

Alexandra did not contradict her husband.
One night, after a particularly delightful dinner, Alexandra made the mistake
of asking Sutton about his childhood.  She simply wanted to
understand.  Sutton refused to meet her eyes, as he described the depth of
Jeanette’s emotional  manipulation while he was a child.  How the
abuse intensified as she failed to produce a male heir.  Of his father’s
wrenching guilt when Robert Reynolds realized what was happening.  Thank
goodness the Dowager returned to London at the birth of Miranda, or Sutton
would likely hate women altogether.

“What could Jeanette possibly gain from
marrying Herbert?  You’ve told me that your distant relation is a wealthy
landowner who rarely comes to London.  He is a country squire. 
Whatever would Jeanette want with him?”

Sutton gave a choked laugh. 
“Badger, Herbert is the
only
other male heir to Cambourne.  Other
than myself, of course.  Jeanette covets the Cambourne money and estate
above all else. She always has.  My father used to say that she married
Cambourne, not him.”  Sutton shot her a wry look.  “Why do
you
think,” he said softly, “she would bother with Herbert?”

Alexandra’s neck prickled at the
implication. “Surely you don’t think –“

“It’s of no importance.”  Sutton gave
her one of his most brilliant smiles and waved his hand in the air.  The
smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t you want your birthday gift?”  He
attempted to distract her.

 Would Jeanette actually try to have
Sutton murdered? Alexandra’s heart caught in her throat.  She thought
Jeanette Reynolds capable of many things, but it never occurred to Alexandra
that murdering Sutton happened to be one of them. 

“Badger.” Sutton pulled a tiny, gilt
wrapped box from his pocket.  “No more talk of the wicked witch.  Especially
not today.”  He waved the box in front of Alexandra.

“I should like to read what the Dowager
has to say for myself.” Alexandra made a grab for the Dowager’s letter, but
Sutton shook his head, and placed the letter out of her reach.

“Nothing to concern yourself with on your
birthday.”

Sutton hid something.  She was sure
of it.  She moved towards the table.

He feinted to the right to stop her, but
Alexandra was quicker.  She slid under his arm and took the letter off the
table, darting out of his reach and opening the crisp paper.

“
Jeanette has made sure to cast doubt
on your marriage.  She hints that the marriage did not occur and that
Alexandra lives at Gray Covington as your mistress.  As your father kept
Madeline before they married.  While your sister makes light of it,
without your presence in London, Miranda’s suitors have been lacking in
reputation.  Many of her friends decline to call.  While I know you
do not care for gossip, have a care for your sisters.  Please come to Cambourne
House and attend several events with your wife at your side.”
 Alexandra’s
hand shook. 

“We must return, Sutton.”

“Gray Covington is close enough to
London.  We do not need to be at Cambourne House.  Do you tire of my
company? Do you wish to go to London?” 

She placed the letter gently on the
table.

“I do not care what the gossips say.” He
stroked her cheek.  “I wished to ruin you.”  He gave her a lustful
look.  “I still do.  I –“

“Sutton.”  She placed a hand on his
chest.  “We have been selfish in allowing Miranda and the Dowager to
weather the storm alone.  I am not afraid of Jeanette.  Odious Oliver
has likely eaten himself to death by now.  And the
ton
does not
scare me.  Not even Agnes Dobson.  The woman reminds me of an
insect.”