Any Wicked Thing (19 page)

“I assure you I was perfectly willing to help him. There was no enslavement. He hired me in my father's stead. It is
you
who relishes being my master.”

“That's completely different.”

“How so? You tie me. You—you tell me to do shocking things.”

“And you do them. And enjoy them.”

That was only too true. For a woman who'd considered herself independent for as long as she could remember, she was shamefully drawn in to Sebastian's sensual sport.

“What if I said no? Would you force me?” She searched his face for a trace of cruelty.

Sebastian caught a strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear, looking at her as earnestly as she looked at him. “You misunderstand all of this, Freddie. It's not a question of me having all the power. Forcing you. I could not do what I do to you without you wanting it. You need to remember that when it comes to your days. There's no pleasure in humiliation. Or housework. This is all about pleasure, Freddie. Living your fantasies. Don't lose sight of that in your attempts to one-up me.”

Frederica swallowed. “I'm not used to such pleasures.”

“I know. The corruption of innocents is always a favorite fantasy of mine. Although you're not precisely innocent, are you? How are things going in the dairy barn, little milkmaid?”

She batted him away. “Are you never serious? Everything is a game to you.” She would not try to make excuses. She had been every bit the deceiver he thought she was, foolish enough to think if she gave him her body, he would somehow fall in love with her, make him see that she was not just little Freddie, his semisister.

“Yes, I'm an idle, rutting bastard. Don't try to make me feel guilty. I don't, and I won't.”

“You say you won't marry. What happens when you grow too old to indulge yourself?”

His eyes slid away. “Contrary to what you hear, old people still have sex. Perhaps not with such vigor as we've experienced the past few days. Perhaps with more moderation. I have every hope that I'll go to my grave with a smile on my face after expiring under the lips and hands of my lover.”

“Eww! How revolting for the woman, to have a man die in her bed!”

“Don't worry,” he said, his lips curving. “I still have a few good years left. But fewer hours in this day than I'd like.” He pulled her bonnet string and her hat rolled down the hill. “Leave it. It's ghastly. I'll buy you a nicer hat.”

“With what money?”

“Mere details. You're so full of questions, Freddie. Before you ask, let me tell you what we're going to do right here, right now.”

He bent to her ear, whispering words both so alarming and so alluring she felt the blush to the toes in her slippers. His fingers were nimble, unhooking her dress, unlacing her corset, unpinning her hair. She was down to her shift in seconds, and after the dark look Sebastian gave her, she pulled it over her head.

“Help me with my boots, Freddie.”

She got down awkwardly on her knees, too aware that Sebastian appreciated the picture she made. After a few tugs, the leather boots slipped from his stockinged feet. He stood up and took care of the rest of his clothes himself, then returned to the spread-out cloak.

It was the first time she had a clear understanding of him naked. There were no shadows from candles at night or the dim light from the long gallery, nothing but bright sunshine to reveal every plane and muscle. He sat perfectly still, as though he expected her to inspect him. His cock was already at the ready. Frederica put a hand to his chest, and he covered it with his own.

“Do you like what you see?”

“You are vain. And arrogant.”

“Yes. I have no false modesty, I'm afraid. I like what I see, Freddie. You are luscious.”

“I bet you say that to everyone.”

“Not always. Sometimes I tell them they're incomparable. Delicious. Divine.”

“Just empty words, Sebastian. Show me.”

He lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “So bold for a woman on her knees. Lie down.”

This was not what he'd described with his wicked whispering, but she complied. His hand stroked her body as he kissed her deeply, his touch so deft she trembled. There was something very primal about kissing naked and with such naked abandon under the sky. Her reservations about the wisdom of Sebastian's plan became as wispy as the clouds. She felt as natural as the grass and earth beneath her, as free as the light breeze that gentled over them. Though the sun warmed her body, she shivered.

Sebastian broke the kiss and held her close. “You are not cold?”

“No. I just—feel things. Don't stop.”

“Sweet as your mouth is, I want to kiss you somewhere else now. Do as I said, Frederica.”

He lay flat on his back. What he asked of her—what he ordered her to do—took her one step further into his web. She felt clumsy, but she turned and positioned herself on her parted knees over his body. No longer could she see the lazy sensuality of his face, but rather his cockstand. It hovered up near her lips, dark and hard. His black nether curls were trimmed, though not as thoroughly as hers. It horrified her to think what he was looking at right now, her bum in the air, her glistening bare folds above his face. She could feel his breath, his hands holding her thighs, his tongue as it swiped and swooped and plundered. He had kissed her there before, and she had taken him in her mouth before, but never from this position, never feeling both so vulnerable and so commanding at the same time. She took a tentative lick, earning his groan against her center.

And then she duplicated what he did to her, hands and lips busy, relishing the heat and hardness. Each movement was an echo of his, until he was buried in her in the most profound ways. They attacked and anticipated each other, all wet mouth and salty taste and slippery sensation, bringing them both to such a dizzying edge that they lost control. The unbearable tension snapped, the invisible knots unraveled, and Frederica was as free as she had ever been, separate yet joined to Sebastian in the sweetest of sin. She crested, tumbled, then rolled over him, collapsing on her back, too stunned to speak.

They lay side by side in satiated quiet. Sebastian reached for her hand and squeezed it. She was too weak to return the gesture, sure she would never move again without a week of sleep. She smiled—perhaps Sebastian could carry her home.

His voice rumbled near her ankle. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing. My mind is a perfect blank.”

“Come, now. No compliments?”

She struggled to sit up. “You are without a doubt the most conceited man I've ever met.”

“I don't doubt that is true. You haven't met many. It's been slim pickings for you up here. I should take you to London to meet my friends.”

“I have no wish to be fashionable,” she said honestly. “And if your friends are anything like you, I shouldn't enjoy their company at all.”

Sebastian laughed, clasping his hands behind his head. His body was too long for the cloak, and blades of grass stuck to his dark hair. “My little wasp. Needless to say, I would not allow my friends the liberties I've taken with you. I'd be a bit possessive, I think.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I can't tell you how to feel, Freddie. But I hope you trust me some. I didn't come up here to be seduced.”

“True. You came to throw me out of my house.”

“Let's not quibble over details. The devil's in them.”

He seemed perfectly satisfied to lie naked where anyone could come upon them. Distancing herself from his spell, she reached for her shift. He stayed her hand.

“Not yet. I want to look my fill in the daylight.”

“Really, Sebastian, you have seen
every inch
of me after today,” she said, annoyed.

“Places I bet you haven't seen yourself, Freddie.” He grinned. “Candlelight is all very romantic, but nothing beats the sun for a thorough inspection. Your freckles, for example. I knew you had some, but they're everywhere, aren't they? Even here,” he said, smoothing his hand where her pubic hair used to be. “I think I see constellations. Is that Virgo right there?”

“I'm hardly a virgin now.”

“No,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “Tell me the truth, Freddie. I want to know about that night ten years ago. Oh, not about our fathers. About us.”

Frederica felt a prickle on her scalp. She straightened her shoulders and looked down her nose at him. It was hard to appear superior when she felt so very exposed. Not only was she undressed, but Sebastian seemed to have the unnerving ability to see straight into her soul. “I was stupid. And more than a little drunk.”

“Did you think to trap me into marriage back then?”

Yes.
No, not really—that would have been too much to hope for. She had just wanted him so. But her tongue refused to say that, saving what pride she had left after becoming his concubine. “Why would I have wanted to marry you? You were already a disgrace,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “I was just curious, and you were handy.”

“So you felt nothing?” It was hard to tell what
he
was feeling
now
, so neutral was his tone. She couldn't give him an honest answer to his question anyway. As to why she had thrown herself at Sebastian Goddard ten years ago, she had no idea except she had been a total idiot. And she wasn't much smarter now.

“I know no matter what I say, you'll think I tried to trick you. But you made an offer of marriage, and I refused. It was not the most romantic proposal I've received.”

“No,” he said dryly, “I imagine not. The circumstances were a touch farcical.”

“Not tragic?”

“Not anymore. I admit to being naïve back then. About our fathers, I mean. One doesn't want to see oneself as simply a necessary cog in the Roxbury lineage, just another name to add to the family Bible. I kept hoping—” He broke off, apparently loath to reveal more. “I've been careful not to litter the landscape with by-blows, but I suppose at some point I'll have to secure the succession, just as my father did, only perhaps with more enthusiasm for the gender of the mother.” He sighed. “More Dukes of Roxbury for the future—just what the world needs. I think most of them have been cork-brained or criminals so far. Perhaps my son will break the mold.”

Her heart squeezed just a little. “So you
do
plan to marry.”

“Not anytime soon. And certainly not you.”

Frederica was stung. “I wouldn't marry you anyway, even if you begged on bended knee with a raft full of roses and singing bluebirds. When June first comes I shall be free of you and your wicked ways. I loathe you, Sebastian Goddard. You—you bring out the very worst in me. I could easily murder you in your sleep.”

“I'll have to sleep with one eye open. You are so passionate, Freddie. It's a pity you seek to hide it. You're eight-and-twenty now, not some starry-eyed schoolgirl. It's past time for you to have a bit of fun.”

“I'd hardly call this a bit of fun,” Frederica raged, struggling to break Sebastian's hold. Her face grew as hot as her temper. He released her arms, and she rubbed away his touch. Throwing on her clothes, she left him sitting on the cloak, the wind ruffling his dark hair. He looked so handsome she wanted to take a rock to his head. Worse, he made no effort to stop her as she scrambled down the track.

B
y all that was holy, and everything that was not, he had bungled in the worst way. It never did to bring up the past. He was no Janus—he wanted only to face the future. And what did it matter if she had been a foolish girl and had loved him a little bit? He was in no danger from her now.

Sebastian watched her march off. He really should go after her in case she fell into a sinkhole and took her ill-gotten dowry with her. He imagined he would not find he was the beneficiary of her will.

He could still taste her essence on his tongue and smell her womanly musk. He would be hard-pressed to find another demivirgin who took to sin as well as Frederica Wells. He fished his pocket watch out of his trousers. Ordinarily he never gave a damn about time. He came and went as he pleased. But now that his hours with Freddie were fixed, he checked to see how many more of them he would have before she tossed him into the dungeon at midnight.

Not enough. Dinner would take up precious minutes, but maybe he could persuade her to spread herself out like a banquet on the trestle table. He chuckled. Not likely. She would be prim and proper for old Warren, mincing up her food and ingesting tiny morsels. Whereas Sebastian would want to gobble up everything in sight, particularly Freddie, the sooner he could get them both behind closed doors.