Some Like It Wicked (Hellion's Den) (13 page)

Perhaps it would be for the best to allow her time to adjust to the knowledge she was to become his wife, he reluctantly concluded.

His body gave a sharp pang of protest at the thought. The decidedly male desire to conquer and possess had no comprehension of the virtues of patience.

“I will escort you.”

“No.” She gave a violent shake of her head as she stumbled farther down the path. “That is not necessary.”

Hellion’s brows snapped together. “I am well aware that it is not necessary. It is simply what I wish to do.”

She swallowed heavily. “Hellion, please. I wish to be alone.”

He muttered a curse as he leashed his darker desires. Soon enough she would be his. Heart, soul, and body. Then he would sate himself in her temptation until both of them were fully satisfied.

“Very well.” He met her gaze squarely. “But do not believe that you can escape me for long, my sweet. Your fate was decided that first night you approached me with your wicked bargain. You are mine.”

Her eyes widened, but with that staunch courage he could not help but admire, the woman forced herself to gather her badly rattled composure about her and with only the faintest tremble in her step turned to sweep up the path toward the ballroom.

With a small smile Hellion allowed her to escape. As he had warned, there was nowhere she could go that he would not follow. Not now. He had chosen her as his bride. The future was settled whether she was willing to accept the truth or not.

Anna choked back a small groan as the deceptively experienced Biddles nibbled his way down the arch of her throat.

This was not the reason she had followed Lord Bidwell, she fuzzily attempted to assure herself. She had known from the moment he had disappeared into the library that he was up to something nefarious. Not that he wasn’t up to something nefarious almost every moment, she silently conceded. But this appeared more nefarious than usual.

And her suspicions had only been confirmed when she had witnessed the portly gentleman entering the library and remaining for several long moments.

What possible interest could a gentleman of Lord Bidwell’s social standing have with a man who was well known to dabble in trade and barely clung to the fringes of society?

Was he simply slumming? Or had he cleverly ensured he would encounter the man because he was well known to have been acquainted with Mr. Middleton?

She knew she had to slip close enough to overhear what was being said. Even at the risk of being caught by the unnervingly clever rogue.

It had all seemed quite reasonable. Quite necessary, in fact.

Until the moment that she had been gathered in strong, demanding arms and knowing lips had covered her mouth in a kiss that threatened to steal every wit she claimed to possess.

It was then, when pleasure was coursing through her and her knees were trembling, that she had to reluctantly confront the notion that it might not have been entirely selfless motives that had led her to stalk the flamboyant gentleman. Or why she had remained when it was obvious the impromptu meeting was at an end.

Some sneaking, weasely part of her had hoped that this was precisely what would occur when she had snuck down the hall and lingered in the shadows. A part that had slyly remained hidden until too late.

Now she desperately battled the fierce urge to simply close her eyes and allow this gentleman to continue with his delightful seduction.

“No,” she whispered softly. “No.”

Ever so gently he nibbled the line of her collarbone. “Yes, yes.”

“Lord Bidwell . . .”

“Biddles,” he breathed against her sensitive skin. “Or Horatio, if you prefer.”

A warm tension was building deep within her. A distracting, delicious tension that seemed directly connected to the lips that relentlessly explored down to the curve of her breast.

“What I prefer is that you release me,” she forced herself to mutter.

“No, that is perhaps what you
should
prefer,” he mocked softly, his breath sending a rash of excitement over her prickling skin. “But I hear the beat of your heart and feel the heat of passion that flushes your satin skin. You cannot hide the truth from me.”

Nor could she hide it from herself.

She was drowning in sensations she was incapable of controlling. All too soon she would be beyond sense. Her only hope was a cowardly retreat. And the sooner the better.

Unfortunately she did not believe that Biddles would readily allow her to flee. Not when he must be aware how very close she was to surrender.

Clearly a distraction was in order.

“What were you doing in this library?” she asked, at last managing to launch an attack. “Waiting for Mr. Newton so you could question him about Jane?”

Anna sensed her seducer stiffen with a mixture of relief and unmistakable regret. The ploy had worked. Her virtue appeared to be saved.

Damn.

Pulling back, Biddles regarded her with an oddly tender smile. “Very clever, my sweet Anna, but one of these days you are going to forget to halt me.”

Anna sucked in a sharp breath. Blast but it would be lovely to toss the smug claim back into his face. She was no silly widgeon who could have her head turned by every gentleman who revealed the slightest interest in her. Oh no. She was wise and clever and all too aware of the dangerous games such rakes enjoyed playing.

Unfortunately she was also far too honest to even consider such a ridiculous ploy.

They both knew she was playing with fire. And that it would take only one moment of weakness for disaster to occur.

More shaken than she cared to admit, she silently slipped from the warmth of his arms and forced her heavy feet to carry her to the waiting ballroom.

From the diary of Miss Jane Middleton, May 18th, 1814:

“Marry you? Hellion?” Anna sputtered out the tea she had just sipped and regarded Jane with blatant disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Hellion desires to marry you?”

Standing beside the window of the library Jane smiled wryly. She could not blame her friend for appearing shocked. Even dumbfounded. After all, only a loon would ever suspect the Ton’s most elusive, most sought-after bachelor would propose marriage to a plain, eccentric wallflower. And Anna most certainly was not a loon.

Still, she could not deny a small prick of wounded pride.

It was not as if she were entirely repulsive, she told herself. Or witless. Or upon her last prayer. Indeed, some might say she was intelligent, well tempered, and tidy. She even possessed all her own teeth.

What more could a gentleman desire?

Jane gave a sudden chuckle. She knew very well that most gentlemen desired a great deal more. Beauty, breeding, and of course, luscious curves. Her charms were unfortunately meager when compared with other maidens. Regardless of whether she possessed all her own teeth or not.

“’Tis shocking, is it not?”

“It is . . . unbelievable.” Setting aside her teacup, Anna gave a slow shake of her head. “Truly, utterly unbelievable.”

“Yes . . .”

“Hellion?”

“Hellion.”

“Married to you?”

“Married to me.”

“Good heavens.”

“I believe that we have adequately determined that his offer of marriage to an aging wallflower is a shocking thing.”

As if suddenly realizing she was being less than complimentary to her friend, Anna offered a rueful grimace.

“Oh, it is not his offer of marriage to
you
I find so amazing. I mean any gentleman of sense would far prefer you to those horrid, simpering chits that fill the ballrooms. It is his offer of marriage to any woman,” she hurriedly explained. “I would have wagered my aunt’s ruby tiara that the man was a confirmed rake and rogue.”

Jane absently leaned against the window, recalling her brief encounter with Hellion in the garden. It was a memory that had haunted and plagued her throughout the long, sleepless night.

“He is a rake and rogue.” She folded her arms about her waist. “No doubt the most accomplished in all of England.”

“And yet . . . he desires to make you his wife.”

Wife. A terrible thrill of pleasure raced through Jane before she was sternly squashing the sensation. It was precisely those unfamiliar tingles, flutters, and palpitations that made her so wary of Hellion, she reminded herself. No woman could think in a sensible manner when her nerves were quivering and her heart thumping about with excitement.

“That is what he claims,” she murmured.

“Claims?” Anna slowly rose to her feet. “What do you mean? Do you believe his proposal a jest?”

“In truth, I do not know what to believe, Anna.”

“Well, what did he say?”

Jane paused only for a moment before relating the baffling, disturbing encounter in the garden. Oh, not the bit about the drugging kisses and skillful caresses. Some intimacies were too private to share even with her best friend.

When at last she fell silent Anna gave a disbelieving laugh.

“Well, it does not seem as if he were jesting. Indeed I would say he is quite determined to have you as his wife.”

Jane was not at all comforted by her friend’s words. In some ways it would be easier to presume that Hellion had merely been playing a poor jest than to consider the notion that he intended to press a courtship upon her.

“But why?”

Anna gave a small lift of her hands. “Could it not be because he cares for you and knows that you will bring him happiness?”

With a sigh Jane wrapped her arms about her waist. “That is the trouble, is it not?”

“What do you mean?”

“How does a woman ever know what is in a gentleman’s heart? How does she know if his regard is sincere or if he seeks to deceive her?”

A startling dry smile abruptly twisted her friend’s soft lips. “You ask your questions of the wrong woman, Jane. All I know of gentlemen is that they were placed on this earth to vex and plague poor females.”

Jane wrinkled her nose in rueful agreement. “True enough.”

There was a short pause before Anna slowly walked to stand before Jane with a somber expression.

“What is it you fear, Jane?”

Jane took a moment before she gave a restless shrug. “I do not understand Hellion’s motives. He could possess any woman he desired. Why would he wish to marry me?”

“Does it matter?” Anna reached out to gently touch her arm. “You came to London to discover a husband, and now you have managed to interest the most elusive catch of the town. Why quibble over motives?”

The quiet words took Jane by surprise and she discovered herself regarding her friend with wide eyes.

“That should be obvious.”

“You are not attracted to him?”

Jane gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “A woman would have to be in her grave not to be attracted to Hellion. Which is precisely the point.”

“What?”

“Only a fool would desire a rake as a husband,” she retorted in what she could only hope were firm tones. “I came to London to discover a gentleman who can share my life in Surrey. Someone who is interested in handling the estate and sharing my love for business. Most of all I desire someone who will care for me enough to begin a family.”

Anna offered a distinctly mysterious smile. “And how can you be so certain that Hellion cannot offer these things?”

“Hellion?” Jane briefly wondered if Anna had been sneaking into the brandy. Or perhaps she had simply been spending too much time in the company of Lord Bidwell. Something had certainly turned her shrewd wits to mush. “The man is a creature of London. He would be miserable stuck in the midst of the country with nothing more to tempt his fancy than a handful of dull assemblies, or worse, remaining home with his plain, tedious wife and children. How long do you think it would be before he became bored beyond bearing? Before he returned to town and his more pleasing entertainments?”

“Jane.” Anna squeezed her arm once again. “You have judged him without allowing him to reveal what he desires in a marriage with you. How can you not be certain he has not wearied of his life as a rake and rogue? Or that he might inwardly long for a family? Should you not at least give him the opportunity to prove whether he is his willing to be the sort of husband you wish?”

A sharp, poignant memory of Hellion speaking of his parents rose to mind. There had been no mistaking the aching loss he had experienced. And the pain of being forced to reside with an uncle who shamed him. For that moment she had sensed the deep loneliness within him. A loneliness that was echoed within her own heart.

Was it possible that he did seek to discover someone he could share his life with? That he could put aside his enjoyment of exotic mistresses and gambling clubs to settle into a mundane existence as husband and father?

It seemed utterly nonsensical. Rather like expecting a dangerous, predatory panther to be trained as a house cat.

A shiver raced down her spine.

She had told the truth. She had come to London for a safe, comfortable, quietly dependable husband. How foolish would it be to instead return home with a dashing, restless, utterly gorgeous rogue?

Foolish. Very, very foolish, a dark voice warned in the back of her mind.

But . . . ah, so tempting.

Realizing that her friend was regarding her with growing concern, Jane gave a faint shake of her head.

“It is not so simple, Anna.”

“Nothing ever is.” She offered a faint smile. “All I am suggesting is that you offer him the opportunity to court you. What can be the harm? If you decide you do not suit then you can decline his proposal. In the meantime why not enjoy being wooed by a true expert?”

Jane discovered herself without an answer.

She was quite certain that there was a great deal of harm that Hellion could wreak in her quiet, sensible life. But annoyingly it was impossible to pinpoint the exact source of her vague fears.

Instead she once again recalled the guarded vulnerability she had glimpsed within those wicked eyes.

“I do not know, Anna,” she murmured uncertainly, her heart whispering with unease.

“Just give it some thought before you do anything you might later regret.”

“You intend to wed the chit?”

Hellion could not hide his grin as he watched the end of Biddles’s nose twitch in unmistakable shock. He had known when he had decided to seek his friend’s help that his announcement would cause something of a scandal. He was after all renowned for his allergy to intimate relationships. Especially those that might be permanent.

But after watching his intended flee from his marriage proposal as if the devil were upon her heels last evening, he had known that he needed advice.

Advice . . . he heaved a rueful sigh.

It was ridiculous, of course.

Gads, he had seduced a countless number of women over the years. He knew precisely the intricate steps of the delicious waltz.

The first knowing glances. The casual brush of fingers. The deliberate encounters. The kiss. The intimate caress. And at last the fulfillment of the passions that had been stirred to aching life.

Even more importantly he understood the small details demanded by such a seduction.

Sending flowers in her favorite color. Indulging her love for pretty baubles. Remembering the first moment they met or her birthday. And of course, showering her with the unwavering attention that assured the woman that his entire soul was focused upon her alone.

Thus he was the consummate rake.

But for once in his life, Hellion was forced to acknowledge that all his well-honed skills were going to be tested to the limit when dealing with a young woman.

Jane . . .

His stubborn, independent, stoically practical Jane had no interest in the frivolous games of romance. She might accept his flowers, but she preferred to view them in the garden. She disdained baubles. And as for his unwavering attention . . . well, he could not deny that she would just as soon be closeted with her damnable man of business as to be receiving compliments from him.

And while he was confident that she desired him, she was not about to allow her passions to rule her heart.

It was enough to make a hardened rogue take to the bottle.

“Yes, I intend to wed her,” he retorted in firm tones, leaning back in the comfortable sofa with his legs stretched before him.

“Good Lord.” With swift motions Biddles was at the heavy sideboard to pour a large measure of brandy. Only when he had swallowed the lot in one gulp did he turn back to regard Hellion with a glittering gaze. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Dammit, man. Why has the most notorious bachelor in all of England suddenly decided to toss aside his joyous existence to join the dull ranks of pathetic drudges?”

Expecting a pang of regret at the accusation, Hellion was startled to discover nothing more than vague amusement at his friend’s obvious disbelief.

“Because I met Miss Jane Middleton,” he answered simply.

“That is your reason?”

“Yes.”

“Is she with child?”

Hellion’s smile abruptly vanished. Perhaps it was because of the scowl that darkened his countenance.

“No, she is damn well not with child,” Hellion growled, unreasonably annoyed by the question. “And I warn you that the next slur you make upon my intended bride will be the last you make with a full set of teeth.”

There was a moment of silence as Biddles carefully scrutinized his forbidding frown, and then quite inexplicably the sly rascal tilted back his head to laugh with a rich enjoyment.