Any Wicked Thing (30 page)

Cam knew all his secrets. He had spoken of that night, omitting the most salient details, because it really was too ridiculous to repeat. “She isn't cracked. Just—just under a bit of stress. There was a misunderstanding. We've cleared it up now.”

“She specializes in misunderstandings, I gather. What exactly are the terms of your agreement? She shook like a leaf when I mentioned you'd disclosed the sale to me.”

“Don't concern yourself. Really. Everything is fine.” Sebastian began to trace his own circles on the scarred wood surface, wishing he was touching Freddie's skin. Damn the foul weather for rushing them.

“What's going on between you? She looked like she wanted to rip off your head. I can't say I want to find myself in the middle of some sort of domestic dispute.”

Sebastian shrugged. “I told you we've known each other since we were children. There's a lot of history. You know the worst of it.”

“So, once, she was like your little sister. Until she cornered you in disguise and tried to fuck your brains out until your fathers interrupted.”

Even when he had thought he and Cam would never live to come home, Sebastian had spared Freddie in his story of that night. Protected her by omission. He wasn't about to come clean now, and whatever was happening with Freddie was certainly nothing at all like incest. She was nothing—nothing—like a sister to him.

“Freddie's a stranger to me—you know I haven't seen her in a decade. Not since I was a beardless boy on that awful night. Whatever I felt or feel toward her now is not—filial.”

“Does she know what happened?” Cameron asked quietly.

There was no need for him to be specific. Sebastian knew what he referred to. He closed his eyes, blood blooming and rushing to his head. “No, she doesn't. And I'd like to keep it that way, if you don't mind.”

“She won't hear it from me. But if you care for her, you should tell her.”

“I don't care for her. It's not like that at all.” Sebastian's own words were not quite convincing, even to himself. Good God. He was not actually still under Freddie's spell, was he? He'd talked himself out of that yesterday, although he had yet to make good his determination to end their arrangement. Surely he thought of her as just a convenient dalliance now, a way to stave off his creditors. Just a few days more. A week at the longest, now that Cam had interrupted them. He was not falling
in love
. He'd had all the love beaten out of him anyway.

Cam crossed his arms over his chest. “Whatever you say.”

Cam knew him too well. Once, they'd been able to read each other's thoughts by a flick of an eyelash. It was clear to Sebastian the man was going to be a thorn in his side, however long he stayed.

“So, we agree to three days. I did save your life, you know,” Cam prompted.

“And how long will you dine out on that tale? Yes, yes, I'm grateful, but just at present, you're a complication I don't need.” Sebastian sighed, defeated. He did owe a great deal to Cam, but if the man threw a spanner into the works and Freddie backed out of their deal out of embarrassment, their friendship would be at an end. He needed her money.

He needed her
.

He must not wander down that alley. He would never subject himself to anyone's will again. Freddie's demands upon him were nothing—she was an amateur.

He could be a congenial host to his old friend, could he not? Pretend that all was right in the world, at least for three days? Of course he could. He could pretend a great many things. “Come on. Let's freshen your drink and do justice to the tea tray. My cook Mrs. Holloway is a treasure.”

An odd look flitted across Cam's face, but he rose off the bench, dusting off his trousers. “I can help you with the pixie. Sing your praises to earn my supper. Make you out to be a hero of the Nile so that the chit will fall in love with you and you can get your hands on all her money.”

Sebastian picked up Cam's empty glass and twirled it between his hands. “I don't want her love. Or anybody's for that matter. I don't believe love even exists in this world, as you well know.”

“I doubt you'll find it where you're headed. I hear hate reigns in the hot spot.”

Sebastian stood up. “Now, Cam. I don't believe in hate, either. I'm done with all that. It's far too much trouble to hang on to, and is apt to make one spit and sweat. I am regrettably devoid of all those emotions that produce war, dreary ballads and bad poetry. Give me a warm body and a bed, and I won't have to feel anything but lust.”

“I remember.”

Neither one of them took a step toward the solar. They were quiet for a time with their own thoughts. It was easier not to speak of some things. Eventually Sebastian placed a hand on Cam's shoulder. “Don't worry. I have everything under control.”

“So you'd like to think. But be careful. For some reason, Miss Wells strikes me as a danger to you.”

Freddie naked. Freddie armed. Yes, she was dangerous. “You have no idea.” Sebastian paused at the door. “Meet me in the long gallery tomorrow morning after breakfast. I'll arrange for a tour of your ancestors. And perhaps a fencing match with a surprising adversary.”

It was Freddie's day tomorrow, but so far he'd been able to worm his way into her plans to suit himself. Imagining Cam fall victim to Freddie's fencing skill brought a wide smile to his face.

“Uh-oh. I don't like the look of that. But it's not enough to drive me from Archibald Castle. It will take more than a show of your teeth to do it.”

“I said three days, and I meant it. I haven't got much more than my word at present.”

Cam stared off into a corner where a suit of armor listed precariously on its stand. “If I have to, I could spot you a loan.”

“Really, Cam, how much more in your debt can I be? No, that won't be necessary. I'll survive.”

“I—I care for you, you know.”

“And I you. We're blood brothers of a sort, after all. But I won't take your money, unless you want to buy that suit of armor you're looking at.”

“Not my cup of tea. Speaking of which, I suppose we'd best go in so I can be uncharming.”

Sebastian laughed. “It will be a trial for you, but nothing to what you've already gone through.”

“Amen to that.”

The past was a closed book. Long may it stay that way, Sebastian thought, as he followed his friend through the solar door.

T
hey were out in the hall a damned long time, Freddie thought as she sipped the vile whiskey. Talking about her. Even if Sebastian hadn't spelled out the exact terms of their agreement, that Mr. Ryder had given her knowing looks, like he could see right through her dress to her stays, which were not laced as tightly as they should be at all. Without a maid, life was hard on Frederica and her bosom ever more bountiful. Her hair was usually a fright and her hands worn down with work.

Tomorrow was Sunday. When she went to church, she would beg Mr. Clement, the young clergyman, to help her find some poor soul on his rounds who didn't believe the ghost rumors and would come to work at Goddard Castle for free.

For an instant, she was tempted to ask Sebastian to accompany her to the service. He would have to if she commanded it—it was her day. It would serve him right. How he would hate sitting still and feigning piety. She really didn't think he was capable of it, as he exuded a restless energy that was not about to be tamed by a sermon or a psalm. But she didn't trust him. Likely his hand would creep up her skirts in the high Archibald pew, thinking no one could see what he was up to. Hell, even if he were exposed to all the prying eyes, he was devil enough to despoil her in church.

How could she sit in prayerful silence after all the things she'd done since Sebastian arrived? She would probably be struck by lightning, fried to a crisp. Maybe she should step outside right now and get it over with.

The solar's windows rattled in the rain, and flashes of sheet lightning brightened the gray sky. The storm could last another few minutes or until tomorrow—there was no telling with Yorkshire weather. Frederica was only just getting the winter chill from her bones. The cold of the winter had dragged on forever into spring. Whether one was indoors or out, the castle had a forbidding climate.

Why did she want to stay? She topped off her teacup with more whiskey, knowing that the answer was not to be found at the bottom of a bottle. The taste of it was not so bad now. She could see why gentlemen were forever in their cups. A comforting warmth spread from her chest to her limbs, nearly as pleasant as Sebastian's kiss.

Pleasant
. Ha. She needed to come up with a better word than that. She was a writer, wasn't she? Even though she wrote about true occurrences, she tried to make the past come alive, as though she were telling a story to a tousle-haired child at bedtime. Uncle Phillip had gotten rave reviews.

She gulped down more whiskey. She wasn't resentful the duke received all the acclaim. Without his interest and acquisitions, Frederica would have had no purpose to her life. She had to finish the series. Had to. She hiccupped.

The door opened and Sebastian and his handsome friend entered, both looking like the answer to every spinster's prayers. But she was made of sterner stuff. Sebastian might play her body like a master violinist, with those long tapering fingers and his even longer cock, but he was nothing but a selfish rake. Cameron Ryder was surely just the same. She lifted the china cup to her lips and drained it.

“Here we are, Freddie. Sorry to have left you alone for so long. Just catching up on old times.” Sebastian eased back down beside her, throwing an arm over the back of the ratty sofa. It was perilously close to her, and she fought the urge to lean her head on it.

“The duke tells me you helped him escape from prison, Mr. Ryder.” Oh, dear. Her tongue felt thick, and she was almost sure she said “prishon.”

“Yes, Miss Wells. I'm forever getting His Grace out of one scrape or another.”

Frederica leaned forward. “Tell me all about them.”

Cameron Ryder gave another catlike grin. Or perhaps it was wolfish. Were wolves ever blond? She thought not. Gray was the usual color, perhaps silver. Whatever kind of wolf he was, he had far too many blindingly white teeth to fit in an Englishman's mouth. She must ask for his brand of tooth powder. Discreetly, she loosened the top button on her bodice. It was so very hot in here all of a sudden she thought she might faint.

“I'm only here for three days, Miss Wells. We won't have time to scratch the surface.”

Frederica waved a lazy hand. “Begin anywhere. I have not seen Sebastian for ages. Tell me all his shecrets. He musht have been very bad.”

Mr. Ryder shot Sebastian a puzzled look. Sebastian picked up her teacup and took a suspicious sniff.

“By God, Freddie, you're under the hatches. How many cups of whiskey did you drink? We were only gone five minutes.”

“What dosh it matter? I'm a grown woman. I can do as I pleashe.”

“Not today, you can't,” Sebastian muttered in her ear. “Excuse us, Cam. I'm going to see Miss Wells upstairs.”

Frederica tried to push him away as he bent over her, but she was always unlucky pushing Sebastian away. He had the most unnerving habit of being just where she didn't want him. Except when he was between her thighs. He was quite all right there. And now he was carrying her out of the solar up to her bedroom. He might be between her thighs in minutes. Poor Mr. Ryder would have to eat his sandwiches alone. She settled into Sebastian's arms as he mounted the twisting stairs.

“Fuck me, Sebastian,” she whispered.

“You hoyden. I should, just to punish you. You have no head at all for liquor, do you?”

Frederica sighed sadly. “I cannot dr-drink a drop. P'raps a drop is shufficient. Much more that that means bad things happen. Look at ush.”

Sebastian's face swam over her. He had the most elegant eyebrows. He must practice lifting one, then the other, in the mirror every morning. The left one was up now, winged, taking flight. Or was it the right? His left, her right, or the other way around. What did it matter? He was beautiful.

“You mean the night of my father's fancy dress ball. You had too much to drink and found me in the tower.”

“Yup. Thatsh it. The f-fucking. It washn't what I hoped for. I loved you so much. But you've got better in bed. So. Much. Better.”

“Good God.”

Sebastian said not another word until he deposited her on her bed. “Go to sleep now, Freddie. I'll have Mrs. Holloway make up a dinner tray for you.”