A Week to Be Wicked (5 page)

“No, this is fine. This is good. The dance, our leaving it. You . . . embracing me in plain view.” She swallowed hard. “It’s all good.”

“It is?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

His arms felt good indeed, wreathed about her waist. And the complex, fiery warmth in his hazel eyes was swiftly melting her intelligence to slag. One more minute of this, and she’d be a certifiable simpleton.

She cast a glance at the door. Surely someone would follow them. Or peep out the window, at least. Weren’t they the least bit concerned for her reputation? Or her ankle, if nothing else? Someone needed to see them together, if they were going to make a convincing elopement. Otherwise, this dangerous, confusing embrace would be for nothing.

“Why?” she asked, unable to help herself. “You could have Diana.”

“I suppose I could. And if I decided marry her, you could not stop me.”

Her heart pounded so fiercely in her chest, she was sure he must feel it. “But you chose me tonight. Why?”

An ironic smile tugged at his mouth. “You want me to explain it?”

“Yes. And do it honestly, not . . .”
Not like last night.

“Honestly.” He mused on the word. “Honestly, your sister is lovely, elegant, demure, kind. It’s easy for a man to look at her and imagine a whole lifetime stretched out before him. Wedding, house, china, children. It’s not an unappealing prospect. But it all looks very settled and fixed.”

“And when you look at me? What do you see then?”

“Honestly? When I look at you . . .” His thumb stroked her lower back. “I think to myself something like this: God only knows what trials lie down that path.”

She twisted in his embrace, pushing against his arm. “Let me go.”

“Why?”

“So I can hit you.”

“You asked for honesty.” He chuckled, but kept her close. “This . . . this struggle is precisely my point. No, you don’t fit the beautiful, elegant, predictable mold. But take heart, Marissa. Some men like to be surprised.”

Marissa?

She stared at him, horrified. And thrilled. And horrified at being thrilled. “You. Are.
The
most—”

A bell jingled. The Bull and Blossom’s door swung open, and a handful of giggling village girls tumbled forth, riding a wave of music and warmth. Minerva’s breath caught. If the girls turned this way, she and Payne would be seen. Together.

“Surprise,” she whispered.

Then she pressed her lips to his.

Chapter Four

S
urprise, she said.

Surprise indeed.

Sweetness. That was the first surprise. He’d heard so many tart words from these lips . . . but her kiss was sweet. Cool and sweet, with a hint of true decadence beneath. Like a sun-ripened plum at the height of summer. Ready to fall into his hand at the slightest inducement.

The falling. That was surprise the second. As she leaned into the kiss, she fell into
him
. He tightened his arms around her waist, pulling her close.

Their bodies met.

But that wasn’t the right word. Their bodies had “met” some months ago, that night in the Summerfield gardens. Now their bodies renewed the acquaintance. The sense of intimacy was immediate, startling. The jasmine scent of her hair cocked a trigger, deep inside him. A memory stored not in his mind, but in his blood.

Which brought him to surprise the third.

Pleasure. Triumph. Damn, he’d been
wanting
this. He hadn’t known it. Would have gone to his grave before admitting it. But a part of him had been wanting this. Badly, and for quite some time. He wasn’t learning her through this kiss, so much as confirming long-suspected truths. That for all her unfeminine interests and education, she was pure woman beneath. That she didn’t feel prickly and stubborn in his arms, but warm and pliant, her curves molding to his strength.

That he could make her melt. Sigh. Tremble.

That one taste of her wouldn’t be enough.

He ran his tongue over her closed lips, seeking more. It had been ages since he’d kissed a girl simply for kissing’s sake, and he’d forgotten what a pure, heady pleasure it could be. He wanted to sink into that cool sweetness. Get drunk on it, bathe in it. Utterly lose himself in a fathoms-deep kiss.

Open. Open for me.

A little sound escaped her. Something like a squeak. Her lips remained sealed under his.

He tried again, lightly dragging his tongue toward the corner of her mouth. Slowly, reverently—the way he knew a woman enjoyed being licked, just about anywhere.

Finally, her lips parted. He swept his tongue between them, tasting her. God, she was so sweet and fresh. But utterly still. Unmoving. Unbreathing. He paused to sip at her plump lower lip before trying again. He pressed a little deeper this time, swirling his tongue before retreating.

The sweet sigh of her breath whispered against his cheek. It was a confession, that sigh. It told him two things.

First, she had no earthly idea how to kiss him back.

But, secondly? She wanted to. She’d been waiting for this, too.

As they broke apart, a sense of mutual disbelief wavered in the air.

“Why—?” Her hands pressed flat against her belly. For a moment, she looked everywhere
but
at him. Then she lowered her voice and asked, “Whyever would you
do
that?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, chuckling. “You kissed
me
.”

“Yes, but why would you do . . .” Her face twisted. “The rest of it.”

Colin paused. “Because . . . that’s the way a grown man kisses a woman?”

She stared at him.

For God’s sake, she couldn’t be that naïve.

“I know you can’t have had much experience, but surely someone’s explained the natural way of things between the sexes?” He held out his hands in an attitude of illustration and cleared his throat. “It’s like this, you see. When a man cares for a woman very, very much . . .”

She buffeted his shoulder with her fist, once. Then barely restrained herself from a second blow. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” She lowered her voice and slid a glance toward the group of girls, who were now disappearing into the rooming house, still absorbed in their own conversation. “Why would you do that with
me
? A simple kiss was enough. What could you be thinking?”

“What indeed.” He pushed a hand through his hair, more than a little offended at her accusatory tone. “I’m male. You rubbed your . . . femaleness all over me. I didn’t think. I reacted.”

“You
reacted
.”

“Yes.”

“To . . .” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “To me.”

“It is a natural response. Aren’t you a scientist? Then you should understand. Any red-blooded man would react to such stimulus.”

She stepped back. She dipped her chin and peered at him over her spectacles. “So you find me stimulating.”

“That’s not what I—” He bit off the rest of that sentence. The only way to end a nonsensical conversation was to simply cease talking.

Colin drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He closed his eyes briefly. And then he opened them and looked at her. Really
looked
at her, as though for the first time. He saw thick, dark hair a man could gather by the fistful. Prim spectacles, perched on a gently sloped nose. Behind the lenses, wide-set eyes—dark and intelligent. And that mouth. That ripe, pouting, sensual mouth.

He let his gaze drift down her form. There was a wicked thrill to knowing lushness smoldered beneath that modest sprigged muslin gown. To having
felt
her shape, scouting and charting her body with all the nerve endings of his own.

Their bodies had
met
. More than that. They’d grown acquainted.

Nothing more would come from it, of course. Colin had rules for himself, and as for her . . . she didn’t even like him, or pretend to. But she showed up in the middle of the night, hatching schemes that skirted the line between academic logic and reckless adventure. She started kisses she had no notion how to continue.

Taken all together, she was simply . . .

A surprise. A fresh, bracing gust of the unexpected, for good or ill.

“Perhaps,” he said cautiously, “I
do
find you stimulating.”

Suspicion narrowed her gaze. “I don’t know that I should take that as a compliment.”

“Take it how you will.”

She stared in the direction of the Queen’s Ruby. The group of girls had disappeared. “Drat. I’m not sure anyone even noticed the kiss.”

“I noticed it.” He rubbed his mouth with the side of his hand. The taste of ripe plums still lingered on his lips. He found himself unaccountably thirsty.

“So when do we leave?” she asked.

“Leave for where?”

“Scotland, of course.”

“Scotland?” He laughed, surprised. “I’m not taking you to Scotland.”

“But . . .” She blinked furiously. “But just now, inside. You said you chose me.”

“To dance with. I chose you as my dancing partner.”

“Yes. Precisely. You chose to dance with me, in front of all those people. To pull me outside and hold me improperly close. To kiss me, in the middle of the lane. Why would you do all that if you didn’t mean to elope?”

“For the last time, you kissed
me
. As for the rest . . . I regretted that scene last night in my quarters. I felt I owed you some apology.”

“Oh. Oh no.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “You’re telling me it was a pity dance? A pity kiss?”

“No, no.” He sighed. “Not entirely. I just thought you deserved to feel appreciated and admired. In front of everyone.”

“And now, for a second time in as many nights, you’re revealing that it was all deceit. So I can feel rejected and humiliated. In front of everyone.” Red rimmed her eyes. “You can’t be doing this to me again.”

Oh, for the love of tits. How did this happen to him? He had the best of intentions, and then somehow . . .

Your good intentions have the impact of mortar shells.

“That’s it,” she said, balling her hands in fists. “I’m not letting you out of it this time. I insist that you take me to Scotland. I demand you ruin me. As a point of honor.”

The bell on the tavern door jingled. They jumped back from each other a pace.

The party had outgrown the tavern, it seemed. Merrymakers spilled out from the Bull and Blossom, taking to the green.

Sniffing, Minerva crossed her arms over her chest.

“Listen,” he said low. “Is there some time and place we can talk? Someplace that’s not my quarters at midnight.”

After a pause, she straightened her spectacles. “Meet me at the head of the beach path tomorrow morning, just before dawn.”

“
Before
dawn?”

“Too early for you?”

“Oh no,” he replied. “I’m a very early riser.”

“Y
ou’re late,” she said, the next morning. The first rays of dawn glinted off her spectacles. “I’ve been waiting.”

“Good morning to you too, Marianna.” Colin rubbed his bleary eyes, then his unshaven jaw. “I had to bid my cousin farewell.”

His gaze slid over her frock—a murky, shapeless abomination of gray fabric, buttoned to the hollow of her throat.

“What on earth are you wearing? Did you take orders in a convent since we spoke last? Little Sisters of the Drab and Homely?”

“I thought about it,” she said dryly. “It probably would have been the wise course of action. But no. This is my bathing costume.” She raked him with a look. “I don’t suppose you have one.”

He laughed. “I don’t suppose I do.”

“You’ll just have to strip partway, I suppose. Come along, then.”

He followed her down the rocky path to the cove, bemused but undeniably intrigued. “If I’d known disrobing would be involved, I would have been more punctual.”

“Quickly, now. We must hurry, or the fishermen will see us.”

They reached the beach. The air whipping off the sea had a bracing, sobering effect, clearing some of the cobwebs from his brain. The world began to take on crisper edges.

He stopped at the water’s edge. The sea lapped at his boots. He took a long moment to inhale deeply, then surveyed the boulder-studded cove in the misty dawn. He’d never appreciated this view before, at this hour of morning.

It looked timeless. Almost mystical.

Seawater splashed him in the face.

“Wake up,” she said, removing her spectacles and placing them into a small oilcloth pouch looped over her wrist. She strode past him into the gentle waves. “Time’s wasting.”

He watched, incredulous, as the stark raving mad girl sank into the water. Knee-deep. Then waist-deep. Then all the way to her neck.

“Come out of there,” he said, sounding distressingly like a nursemaid, even to his own ears. “This instant.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s April. And freezing.”
And because I’m suddenly curious to see you wet, without the mud. I didn’t have a chance to appreciate the view the other night.

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It’s not so bad, once you grow used to it.”

For God’s sake, look at the girl. Teeth chattering, lips turning blue. Beneath that horrid garment, her nipples were probably freezing to little icicles. And she seriously expected him to join her? Him, and all his precious, highly-susceptible-to-extreme-temperatures bits?

“Listen, Madeline. There’s been some misunderstanding. I’m not here for a swim. We need to talk.”

“And I need to show you an inlet, around those rocks. There’s no other way to get there but to swim. We’ll talk when we arrive.” She cocked her head. “You’re not frightened, are you?”

Frightened. Ha. What was that he heard, splashing into the water? Must have been a gauntlet.

“No.”

Colin pried off his boots. He laid aside his coat. Then he rolled up his trouser legs, cuffing them at the knees, and likewise turned up his sleeves to the elbow.

He girded his loins.

“Very well. Here I come.” He winced, plowing into the frigid depths. When the waterline reached his navel, he swore aloud. “This is true valor, I hope you know. Legends have sprung from less. All Lancelot did was paddle about in a balmy lake.”

She smiled. “Lancelot was a knight. You’re a viscount. The bar is higher.”

He gave a raspy chuckle, breathless from the cold. “Why is it,” he asked, nearing her, “that you only display that delightfully wicked sense of humor when you’re chilled and wet through?”

“I . . .” Her eyelashes fluttered so fast and so hard, she might have been trying to take flight with them. “I don’t know.”

Even though she was submerged in icy water, she blushed crimson. All her invisible barriers went back up, instantly. So odd. Most women of his acquaintance relied on physical beauty and charm to mask their less-pleasant traits. This girl did the opposite, hiding everything interesting about herself behind a prim, plain façade.

What other surprises was she concealing?

“Let’s keep moving,” she said. “Follow me.”

Swimming in easy, unhurried strokes, she led him around an archipelago of boulders, into a small inlet bounded by steep cliffs.