Wickeds Scandal (The Wickeds) (4 page)

“Well? 
What do you have to say for yourself?”    The baiting of virgins
should become a sport or a gentleman’s pursuit.  Like fencing. 

She
muttered, it sounded like ‘bloody arrogant bastard’, and a small foot stamped
in an effort to gain his attention.  Gray eyes, gone the color of a winter
storm, flashed at him.   “I was
not
eavesdropping.  I am
not in league with your Lady Fellowes.  I was not meeting a lover.  I
especially was not,
heaven forbid
, following
you
in a pathetic
attempt to be ruined!  You vainglorious, arrogant, depraved …
peacock
! 
Until tonight I had no idea you even existed.  In addition, you have the
most ridiculous nickname I have ever heard!  I think it likely you made it
up to entice shallow females who would fall for your dubious charms.”  She
pursed her lips and puffed away an errant curl. 

Sutton’s
breeches twitched again.  The little bit of fluff in front of him had
called him a peacock!  Held him in contempt!  Women simply did not
talk to him this way.  Actually no one did.  He wanted to kiss her
senseless. 

  “I
pity
the shallow women of the ton if indeed they are lining up for your
favors.”  The girl’s small shoulders squared as if she were preparing for
a boxing match.  “Your enormous ego and inflated sense of self-importance
would make you a poor choice for a husband for you are already in love with
yourself!  There wouldn’t be room in the marriage bed for both a wife and
the large mirror which you undoubtedly use to study yourself!” 

  
Sutton opened his mouth to defend himself but thought it wiser not to interfere
with the most fantastic set down he ever received.    And he
found it enjoyable.  His status as Satan Reynolds, evil despoiler of
women, seemed to have no effect on this girl.  The tiny tempest intrigued
him.

“I am a
guest of Lady Dobson’s.  Had I known the
sordid
display that I
would be forced to witness I would have stayed at home!  Strange as it may
seem to you,
my lord
, I
was
actually looking at the books. 
My toad of an uncle doesn’t have a library.  I love books.  In fact,
I find I like them much more than people, especially the ones I have met so
far!   Books are not rude, they do not insult a person and accuse
them,” she nearly yelled at him, “nor do they seduce dull witted women on
couches during balls!  You likely wouldn’t know anything about books,
my
lord
, since I am doubtful you have ever picked up anything to read
except the racing papers or the betting sheets at White’s.” 

Sutton
actually read a great deal more than the racing papers, he was in fact
finishing a book on philosophy, but he didn’t wish to interrupt
her.   Another curl sprung free and hung unnoticed by her ear. He
resisted the urge to tweak it.

She
continued in a shaky voice.  “I just wanted to be somewhere peaceful
– just for a moment.  Away from all of
you
.” Her voice
caught. “I just wanted to look at the books.”  Her magnificent bosom
heaved back and forth and her face flushed a becoming shade of rose as she
finished her tirade.  She looked away, and one small, gloved hand flew to
her mouth in embarrassment.

Sutton
watched her for a moment, wanting to be sure the eruption was over.  Her
reddened face and the clutching of her hands assured him it was.  
The gray eyes were watching him warily.  She was adorable. 
Fierce.  He wanted to put her in his pocket. 

“What a
ferocious little thing you are.  Like a tiny badger.  A
bookish
little badger.” He laughed softly.  This was the most amusing thing that
had happened to him since his return from Macao.  Where had this girl been
hiding?

She stomped
her foot, indignant again.   “You compare me to an ill tempered
rodent?”  Her nose scrunched in the loveliest manner.

  “Did
you enjoy watching Caro and me?”  How incredibly mean of him to continue to
goad her, but he couldn’t help himself.  Especially now that he knew she
had not been spying on him intentionally.  “Why did you not make your
presence known?  Or scream in offended outrage?” 

Emotions
played across her face. Her fingers plucked at her gown.  She turned her
face slightly and looked away.  His question managed to stop her
cold. 

She didn’t
raise her head. “I don’t know what you mean.   I didn’t watch your
sordid display. I covered my eyes. The shock of what I witnessed has but me in
a state of shock.  I am leaving now.  I bid you a good evening, my
lord.”

“Liar.
Pretty little liar.” 

“I find your
accusations disgusting.  I find
you
disgusting.” 

And she
did.  He could tell by the look on her face.  But something else
shone in her features as well.  Something he intended to draw out.

“Too
bad.”  He leaned in.  “I find you utterly adorable.  Not the
least disgusting.”

The Badger
was discomfited at his words.  She backed away from him, not looking at
him directly but at the toes of his polished black boots.   This was
much more fun, Sutton thought, than all the jaded flirtations of the women that
filled Lady Dobson’s ballroom.  He took another step forward.

She retreated.

Damnation!
 

He heard her
say it under her breath as she realized she was cornered against the library
wall.  Neatly trapped, the Badger stared at him in defiance.  A tiny
Amazon attempting to face down an ill-mannered giant.  No doubt she
expected him to ravish her.  His reputation would suggest nothing
less.  He
was
sorely tempted.  Lust for this temperamental
girl struck him again, surprising him with the sharpness of it.

He winked
and lifted his hands, palms up in supplication, before he clasped them behind
his back.

Her eyes
widened. 

Sutton often
thought that so much of seduction could be accomplished with only the mouth and
tongue.  Words, in particular, were incredibly seductive, although he had
found few women who understood that.  This girl in front of him had no
idea how her tart tongue had incited him. 

The gunmetal
eyes followed his progress.  She said nothing, but her face remained
flushed.  She didn’t order him to step aside.  She didn’t
scream.  The tilt of her head told him she wanted him to kiss her. 
The white column of her neck turned, just so, inviting him to touch it. 
She may not be aware of her actions, but her body knew what it wanted.  He
heard her breathing, like a frightened animal. 

I really
am a vile man
.

Her gaze
fell to his chest, then, back to his face.  Her breasts lifted towards
him, her body making an unconscious appeal to his.  He sensed deep passion
in the prickly badger.  Sutton leaned forward and caught her scent. 
Green apples on a spring day.  How appropriate.  He loved tart, green
apples.

A tiny nest
of curls, dainty and fine, hung underneath her ear.  He blew softly
towards the curls, watching them move as if they were caught in a gentle
breeze.

She
shivered.  Deliciously.  Her hands pressed against the back of the
door as if to brace herself for his attentions. 

He
considered just reaching around her to open the door and waving her out. 
But she tempted him.  Lured him. 

Carefully,
he nuzzled the nape of her neck with the tip of his nose, pushing aside the
small tendrils to touch the skin underneath.  Her skin was warm and
soft.  Delicate like fine satin.  He couldn’t help himself.  He
nipped her.

“Oh!” 
Two hands flew up immediately, like trapped doves, to place themselves on his
chest. 

Heat jolted
through his chest at her touch.   He wanted nothing more than to wrap
his arms around her, pressing her small form to his.  But he
didn’t.   Instead he inhaled deeply and pressed his lips to the spot
he nipped, savoring the Badger as if she were fine wine. He flicked out the tip
of his tongue and traced a line from the spot to just below her earlobe. 
He took her lobe in his mouth and gently sucked on it.

“What are
you – oh!” She said again, before she sagged towards him. 

The
magnificent breasts pushed against him.  He imagined her nipples, the
color of dusky ripe cherries, pushing through the lawn of his
shirt.   The beat of her heart could clearly be seen beneath the
column of her throat. 

She rubbed
against him, like a cat wishing to be stroked.

He nearly came
undone then but forced his hands to stay still.  What started as virgin
baiting turned into something else entirely.   Sutton pressed a
gentle kiss to the side of her mouth.  His tongue flicked out to run
against the inside of her upper lip.  Her head moved back an inch,
unaccustomed to the sensation.

“No.” He
whispered against the corner of her mouth.  “Be still.”

Her eyes
closed in surrender.  Her touch ran up his chest, fingers tensing as she
made her way slowly up to his neck.  His lips brushed over hers, sucking
on her bottom lip, pulling away gently from her. 

Sutton’s
heart hammered in his chest from their kiss, a rare and unnerving
experience.  What in God’s name was he doing?

***

Satan
Reynolds kissed her.   Erotically.  Decadently.  And he smelled
of cinnamon.  She wanted this moment to last forever.  The most
notorious rake in London looked at her with seduction.  She should run as
far from this man as possible.   Something about him made her want to
be wicked.  Wanton. 

A puzzled
look crossed his angelic face as he watched her. His eyes were the most
glorious color she had ever seen, green with flecks of gold.  Only one
other creature in her acquaintance also possessed eyes of that color,  her
calico tabby cat, Marmalade.  Thinking of Marmalade, who was likely
sitting by the fire in Helmsby Abbey’s kitchen, brought Alexandra back to
reality.  She was just a girl from Hampshire, who had never been kissed,
desperate to outsmart her uncle to save her home.  Were she not so muddled
by the man standing before her, Alexandra would have laughed out loud. 
Her situation sounded very much like a plot of a Lord Thurston
novel.   The knob of the door ground into her back.  She reached
for it.

“What is
your name?”  The dark rasp ran over her like molten chocolate. 

 Her
hand froze on the knob.  “Alexandra Dunforth.”  She looked into those
cat-like eyes, truly frightened for the first time.  She wondered if this
was what the gypsy cursed him with, a magical allure that women could not
resist.

“I’ll be
seeing you again,
Alex
.”  He smiled wickedly at her. 

Alexandra
cautiously opened the door, never taking her eyes off Lord Reynolds.  She
nodded a polite goodbye to him, as if they merely met for tea.  She tried
to pivot gracefully, but stumbled a bit in her haste to exit.  She cursed
her clumsiness and forced her shaky legs to take her back to the ballroom.  The
side of her mouth tingled from the imprint of his tongue on her lips.

***

Lord Sutton
Reynolds, known to his friends as Cam and amongst the gossips of the
ton
as Satan Reynolds, felt his heart thump loudly in his chest as the delectable
Miss Dunforth attempted a regal exit.  She tripped over her gown, caught
herself, and stumbled in a most ungraceful manner away from him. He thought to
assist her, but feared touching her would unleash all sorts of behavior best
left for another time.  Besides, her awkwardness charmed him.  
And he
did
desire her.  That was quite apparent from the hardened
arousal in his breeches, meaning he couldn’t follow her immediately.   
He lit another cheroot.

One of his
mistresses in Macao had given Sutton a puzzle box as a gift.   The
box was intricately inlaid with two different types of wood in a delicate
pattern made to look like fish in a sea.  He couldn’t open it.  He
spent weeks looking at it, trying to discern where the secret latch could be
hidden, how to push the button just so to reveal the mysteries hidden within,

Sutton
flicked his wrist and the remainder of the cheroot fell into the fireplace,
sparking briefly.  He adjusted his breeches as he walked out of the
library.  Patience was one of Sutton’s strong suits. After nearly a year,
he had finally opened the box to his immense satisfaction.   He
didn’t think it would take quite that long with Miss Alexandra Dunforth.

Donata
Reynolds, Dowager Marchioness of Cambourne, grabbed the head of her cane and
watched with interest as a small slight girl slid to a halt next to the couch
where the Dowager sat.  The girl was dressed plainly, although still
fashionably, in a watered blue gray silk gown trimmed in dark lace. She took
several deep breaths and patted her hair.  The girl was either running
from a lover or
to
a lover.   Intrigued, Donata leaned
forward.

The girl’s
hand flew to her coiffure, or rather what was left of it. She took one curl and
pinned it back up, only to have another fall down and take its place. 
Donata heard an unladylike curse erupt from her lips. 

Damnation!