Some Like It Wicked (Hellion's Den) (7 page)

“Oh.” She awkwardly slowed her headlong rush. “Sorry.”

“And I do wish you would smile,” he continued, lowering his head so that he could speak directly into her ear. “My attentions are supposed to bring you delight. At the moment the guests could be forgiven for believing that I have given you a sour stomach.”

She gave his arm a sharp pinch. “There is no need to be rude.”

He abruptly covered her hand with his own, giving her fingers a retaliatory squeeze. The shrew would have him black and blue if he were not careful.

“Smile, Miss Middleton,” he commanded.

Pulling back she offered him a wide, patently false smile. “There. Are you satisfied?”

“Now you appear foxed. Or daft.”

“Why you . . .” The eyes more gray than blue at the moment flashed with a dangerous fire before she unexpectedly gave a reluctant chuckle. “Mr. Caulfield, you really are the most aggravating of gentlemen.”

“The most?” He offered her a teasing smile. “Well, I suppose I should take pride in excelling at something.” He paused, considering how best to ease her lingering nervousness. “Tell me of this parcel of land you desire.”

She regarded him in startled surprise. “You cannot be interested?”

He shrugged, wondering if he should be offended by her obvious belief he had no interest beyond the frivolous. Of course, she would not be far wrong, he ruefully concluded. Thus far he had done precious little to improve his mind, or his fortunes.

“We must talk of something,” he retorted, his eyes abruptly darkening. “Unless you would rather that I gaze at you in silence like a moonstruck looby?”

She gave a predictable shudder. “Good heavens, no.”

“Then tell me.”

“Very well. I am considering constructing a posting inn.”

He gave a choked noise. “You?”

Her smile was wry at his obvious dismay. “Well, I do not intend to cut the stones or lay the planking myself. I only intend to provide the financing.”

Alertly steering past the clutch of matrons regarding them with near trembling curiosity, Hellion forced himself to shove aside his natural prejudices. This woman had already proven that she was well out of the usual mold.

“Do you know anything of owning a posting inn?”

“I have done a great deal of research, but more importantly I have hired those who have actual experience.” Her expression became reminiscent. “My father taught me to pay for the best and then to stay out of their way so that they can do their job properly.”

Hellion discovered himself intrigued despite himself. He had always considered the business of trade rather sordid and fit only for those who possessed few ethics. He was a gentleman, after all.

But the sheer passion that Miss Middleton devoted to her work was irresistible. How would it be to care so deeply for something in his life? To be able to lose himself completely?

“So you provide the capital and then step aside?” he demanded. “That does not seem like my managing Miss Middleton.”

She cast him a wry glance at his accurate guess. “Not precisely. First I must make a detailed budget of what I predict might be the potential revenue of any investment I might decide upon. Then I determine the various costs from the initial investment to the daily cost of keeping the enterprise in operation. There are also the unexpected expenditures, such as repairs, accidents, and thefts. Once I have calculated the profit I must ensure that it is greater than my investment. There is little use in tossing money into a losing enterprise.”

“Gads, you make my head ache,” he protested with a startled laugh. “Surely you cannot enjoy such tedious tasks?”

She flashed him that enchanting smile. “It is far preferable to spending my days shredding the reputations of others or being tortured by my dressmaker.”

He deliberately drew her to a halt in the shadows of a nearby alcove. His hand lightly teased over the fingers upon his arm.

“There are other entertainments to delight a young woman,” he protested in smoky tones.

Her eyes swiftly narrowed in suspicion. “What sort of entertainments?”

“If you enjoy art I can always procure a private viewing of the Duke of Northumberland’s collection. Or we could visit the British Museum,” he retorted with mock innocence.

“Perhaps.”

“There are also the Tower and Westminster Abbey to visit. In the evenings we can attend the theatre and Vauxhall. Oh, and of course, Astley’s. That is not even to mention the endless celebrations that are being planned since the abdication of the Corsican Monster.”

She grimaced at his light words, not appearing at all impressed with the thought of being escorted about town on his arm.

“Now you are making my head ache. I should be exhausted by such a hectic schedule.”

He allowed his gaze to openly roam over her upturned countenance and down to the modest neckline of her gown. It took very little effort to recall the feel of her nipples as they had hardened against his thumbs. Suddenly his skin felt flushed with a disturbing warmth. He wanted to tug her through the nearby door and find a place of privacy. He wanted those lips eagerly exploring him and stirring his passions to raging life. He wanted to press her close to his body and allow his muscles to harden with pleasure.

Instead all he could do was move close enough to breathe deeply of her sweet scent.

“Ah, you prefer more relaxing entertainments?” he whispered in roughened tones. “Good. So do I. The mere thought of further exploring the taste of your lips holds infinitely greater appeal than a tedious night at the theatre.”

A delightful blush crept beneath her cheeks. “Sir.”

He gave a low chuckle, not missing the frantic pulse that beat at the base of her throat. She was not indifferent to him. No matter how she might wish to hide the truth.

“Now, my dear, you appear like a woman who is being properly flirted with. Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are sparkling with maidenly confusion.”

“It is annoyance, Mr. Caulfield,” she crisply retorted.

“Not entirely annoyance, I think. I have not forgotten those sweet moans when I kissed you.”

She hardened her features as she took a deliberate step backward. “I believe you enjoy taunting me.”

His own smile faded at her sharp words. “There is a difference between taunting and teasing, my sweet,” he informed her firmly. “I do not mock your innocence, or the delightful discovery that you are not indifferent to my touch. It shall make our time together considerably more pleasant.”

Her expression remained wary. “More pleasant for whom?”

His blood threatened to boil as he considered all the various means of pleasing this woman. There were many, many means, all of them delicious.

And why should he not, a renegade voice whispered in the back of his mind? He would have to take care, of course. He would not forget that she was an innocent woman. A rather rare species for a man such as himself. But there were any number of ways to conduct a seduction without actually taking her virginity.

It would be his pleasure to teach her the delights of passion.

“For the both of us,” he swore in low tones. “That I promise.”

 

 

Anna hid her smile as Lord Bidwell minced beside her on their way to the refreshment table. His red coat and yellow waistcoat were perfectly suited to ensure his image of frivolous stupidity, and as the crowning glory he had produced a Chinese painted fan to slowly waft before his pointed nose.

For most people it would be easy to dismiss him as a twit. What gentleman of sense would ever prance about in such a fashion?

But Anna was far too perceptive to miss the shrewd intelligence in the pale eyes and the restless energy that flowed through his slender form.

He would make a dangerous adversary, she acknowledged with a tiny thrill of excitement. And a true test of her wits.

Waiting until they were well away from Anna’s foolish aunt, Lord Bidwell at last turned to regard her with a vacant smile.

“Tell me, my dear, have you known Miss Middleton for long?”

Anna assumed the rather foolish expression of most
débutantes
. “Oh no. We only met when she arrived in London for the Season.”

He fluttered the fan in a nonchalant motion. “You seem to be very close for such a short acquaintance.”

“Do we?”

“Yes, indeed.” He slanted her a sidelong glance. “Such a charming young lady.”

“Very charming.”

“And quite talented,” he gamely persisted despite her seeming stupidity. “I understand she possesses a most remarkable head for business.”

Anna batted her lashes. “Why Lord Bidwell, are you interested in learning the mysterious arts of trade?”

The pale eyes twinkled, as if sensing her deliberately vague responses. “Egads, no. What would a frippery fellow like me do with such knowledge? I far prefer to concentrate upon important matters.”

“Important matters? What sort of important matters?”

“The buckles of my slippers and the delightful new walking stick I am having commissioned. For a gentleman it cannot be stressed enough how vital a dashing walking stick is to his ensemble.”

“Of course.” Deciding it was time to rattle the clever little sneak with a dose of his own medicine, Anna came to a sudden halt. “Oh, look. It is Monsieur LaSalle.”

There was only the faintest of stiffness in the slender gentleman as he came to a standstill beside her.

“So it is. Are you acquainted with the gentleman?”

“No, but I have noted you always take a great interest in him.”

“Me?” The fan was abruptly snapped shut. “How absurd. I do my best to avoid the horde of French immigrants who have invaded London. They are so very provincial, you know.”

She met his mocking gaze squarely. She desired this gentleman to realize that she would not simply step aside and allow her friend to be injured.

“Then you did not meet with him in the library during Lady Hulford’s ball and then again in the garden after Mrs. Wallace’s
soirée
?”

There was a long shocked silence before Lord Bidwell narrowed his gaze in a dangerous manner.

“Have you been spying upon me, Miss Halifax?”

“I am merely observant, Lord Bidwell.” Anna tilted her chin, blatantly revealing a decided lack of fear at his subtle warning. “And quite devoted to Miss Middleton. I would not take kindly to any threat to her happiness.”

An emotion that was impossible to define rippled over the narrow face. Not anger, thankfully. Perhaps a measure of surprise. And even a hint of challenge.

Then quite unexpectedly a genuine smile curved his lips. “I see.”

“I hope that you do,” Anna retorted, a frown tugging at her brows. There was something rather disturbing about that smile. Almost predatory. “Now if you will excuse me, I must procure some champagne for my aunt.”

“But of course.” Lord Bidwell performed a flourishing bow as he raised her fingers to his lips. “I concede this skirmish to you, my dear. However, I shall be better prepared on the occasion of our next delicious battle. Until then.”

Anna forced herself to turn and walk away at a dignified pace. Her heart, however, was pounding at a rapid rate.

Dear heavens, what had she done?

It was one thing to bravely imagine herself matching wits with the sly, overly clever gentleman. To prove to him that she was equally swift of wit and quite dangerous in her own right.

It was quite another to realize she had managed to divert his attention from Jane directly onto herself.

Dicing with the devil, indeed.

From the diary of Miss Jane Middleton, May 12th, 1814:

It was all marvelously amusing.

After weeks of being thrust into the darkest corners and seated at the far end of the table, Jane was suddenly in demand. No longer was she the forgotten wallflower. Indeed, all those who once condemned her as a drab, ill-bred maiden now rushed to claim she was all that charming. She could not enter a room without being surrounded by hopeful hostesses and eager gentlemen. Her foyer overflowed with invitations. And her afternoons were suddenly filled with various callers.

She was an Original. The latest interest of Hellion.

Which, of course, made all the difference.

Ah, yes. It was all vastly amusing.

Or at least it should be.

Jane absently nibbled her thumbnail as she studied the list she had just completed of the numerous gentlemen she had encountered over the past two weeks.

It was impossible to pinpoint the source of the unease that plagued her heart. She should be delighted. After all, her scandalous scheme had worked even better than she had dared hope. Upon the arm of Hellion she had been introduced to nearly a dozen eligible suitors. Not only eligible but charming, handsome, and even witty. Any one of them might prove to be a comfortable husband.

So why then did she suffer from this restless disquiet?

Was it the sudden, unwavering attention after being hidden in the shadows for so long? Or the fact that her decision to choose a husband was now no longer a vague dream, but a very real possibility?

Or was it . . .

“Shame on you, Jane. You promised me faithfully that you would devote today to rest.”

Hellion.

Lifting her head Jane regarded the gentleman negligently leaning against the doorjamb with startled eyes.

That now familiar shiver raced through her body. It did not seem to matter how often they encountered one another, she always felt that same jolt of shock. That breathless, tingling sensation as if she had just been struck by lightning.

It was annoying, really.

Granted he was handsome. As handsome as Lucifer in his pearl gray coat and black breeches. And there was a dangerous charm in that lopsided smile. But, after a fortnight of being in his company, of having him shower her with his charm, and of enduring his far-too-intimate caresses, she should have been accustomed to his presence.

Instead she felt more nervous and ill at ease than ever.

“Mr. Caulfield,” she murmured, rising awkwardly to her feet.

His smile widened as he slowly strolled across the carpet. With casual ease he leaned against the desk, close enough to her stiff form to cloud her in his warm, male scent.

“You also promised to recall my name is Hellion, not Mr. Caulfield,” he gently teased.

“I . . . I did not hear you announced.”

As if sensing her rattled reaction to his sudden arrival, the dark eyes smoldered with amusement.

“No doubt because I was not.”

She forced herself to take a deep breath. Stop acting like an ass, Jane Middleton, she sternly chided herself. Of course her heart beat faster when he was near. And of course she tingled with delicious awareness. This gentleman was an expert at making women melt into giddy puddles. It was, indeed, his stock-in-trade. The only danger was ever forgetting that for him it was no more than a well-practiced game.

“I see that I shall have to speak with my butler,” she retorted in determinedly light tones. “He seems to have forgotten who is in command of his salary.”

“Do not be too hard on the poor man.” Without warning he reached out to tap the end of her nose with his finger. “He naturally presumed you would desire to receive a call from the gentleman who has stolen your fancy.”

She blinked beneath the full force of his charm. “Naturally.”

The dark eyes shimmered with a positively wicked light as he allowed his gaze to roam over her slender frame currently attired in a plain gray gown.

“You are delighted to have me call, are you not?” he murmured.

Forbidding her knees to buckle beneath that potent survey, Jane forcibly shrouded herself in a brisk composure. This was business, she grimly reminded herself. Nothing more than business.

“Actually I am,” she said in steady tones. “You can be of service to me.”

Expecting a hint of pique that she was not fluttering in confusion as most he encountered, Jane was unprepared for the manner in which he slowly pushed away from the desk and framed her face in his hands.

“Ah, now that sounds intriguing,” he said in husky tones.

Jane licked her suddenly dry lips. “Hellion, what are you doing?”

He gave a low chuckle as he slowly lowered his head and brushed his lips over her own.

“Being of service, of course.”

Her breath fled as a startling heat rushed through her blood. Blast this gentleman. It should be against the law to be so dangerously sensuous.

“I did not mean . . .”

Her protest died a swift death as his lips teased the corner of her mouth. “Relax, my dear.”

Relax? She smothered a near hysterical laugh. How on earth was she supposed to relax when a fierce pleasure was clutching her stomach into knots?

“Hellion, you are being absurd,” she breathed. “There is no need to pretend when no one is about.”

He continued to nuzzle her lips in that distracting fashion, his hands softly stroking over the heated skin of her cheeks.

“Of course there is,” he whispered, his tongue reaching out to trace the outline of her lower lip. “I must remain in practice.”

“You no doubt have practiced enough for a lifetime.”

“Mmm, then it must be that you are in need of practice.”

She reached up to clutch at the lapels of his coat. It was that or melt at his feet.

“I do not believe you.”

He slowly pulled back, the dark eyes glittering with an oddly hectic glow.

“Perhaps I simply cannot resist temptation,” he said before his hands tightened upon her face and his mouth claimed her own in a kiss that was no longer teasing, but starkly demanding.

Jane gave a soft moan as his tongue slipped between her lips. This was different from the casual touches and occasional intimacies that he had offered over the past weeks. There was a hunger in his kiss. A compulsive need that awoke a shimmering response deep within her.

Over and over he plundered her mouth, his fingers spearing into her soft curls. A strange throbbing began to pulse inside her and without conscious thought she was arching her body to press against his steely length.

Restless and confused, she did not know what she was seeking until she felt the hard bulk pressing into her lower stomach. Yes, she thought dizzily. That hardness was what she desired. She needed to have it next to her, within her, filling that hollow ache.

She should have been shocked. Even horrified. Instead she battled the most indecent urge to rub herself against that straining bulge.

As if sensing her rising desire, Hellion gave a gasping moan, and lowering his hands he pressed them into the curve of her back.

“Jane,” he husked, pressing his hips indecently against her. “Let me feel your lips upon me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me . . . taste of me.”

The seductive words swirled through her fogged mind, and barely aware of what she did, Jane discovered herself allowing her mouth to drift from his lips to the chiseled line of his jaw. Her touch was featherlight, but a violent shudder abruptly shook his body. A shudder echoed within her.

“Gads, but you are a dangerous woman.”

With an effort Jane sucked in a deep breath. What had begun as a game was swiftly turning into something perilous. Something that could easily lead to disaster if she did not have a care.

Pressing her hands against his chest she forced herself to clear her scattered thoughts.

“You are the dangerous one, not I,” she corrected in a voice that was oddly thick.

Keeping his arms firmly about her, Hellion peered down at her flushed countenance with a hooded gaze.

“Are you frightened?”

Jane could not halt her wry smile. She should be frightened. Even as an innocent she knew that the passion he stirred within her posed a genuine threat. It would be so easy to forget all in his arms. To forsake sanity for the pleasure he could offer.

But while common sense warned her to beware, she could feel no fear. Instead she was filled with a wondering, thrilling sense of elation.

The dazzling pleasure that he provoked might be a sin, but it was too delicious to regret.

“No,” she at last admitted.

A slow, soul-stirring smile curved his lips. “I believe that is what I admire the most about you, my dear.”

Her brows lifted at his puzzling words. “What?”

“That unwavering courage,” he continued softly. “Have you ever faced anyone or anything you could not conquer?”

You.

The unwelcome thought came without warning, and Jane was abruptly pulling from his grasp and turning to hide her horrified expression.

What was wrong with her?

She did not want to conquer this man. He was a rake. A rogue. A gentleman who could never offer a woman more than a fleeting, meaningless pleasure.

He was in her life only because she had offered him a fortune to be there. The moment she forgot that was the moment she was in true danger.

Grasping ruthless control of her shaken nerves, she firmly turned back to meet his searching gaze with a brittle smile.

“There is London, to begin with,” she retorted. “It terrifies me.”

“But you have conquered London,” he argued with a lift of his brows. “You are on the lips of all society.”

Jane gave a shrug. “Only because of you. And only for the moment. By next week I might very well be forgotten.”

“Then we shall simply have to ensure that does not occur.” He folded his arms over the width of his chest. “If I possess one talent it is for giving the rattles plenty of fodder.”

“Still, I must act swiftly.”

“What do you mean?”

With a determined motion she reached to pluck the sheet of paper from the desk. She had hired Hellion for one purpose. To find a husband. Not to seduce her out of her wits.

A pity, perhaps, a renegade voice whispered in the back of her mind. She possessed little hope that any other gentleman would ever manage to bring her such wicked bliss. But there it was.

And the sooner she found her prospective husband, the sooner she could return to Surrey and sanity. Something she was in dire need of at the moment.

“I have been making a list,” she said in what she hoped were firm tones.

Hellion grimaced. “Egads, not another list?”

“I have told you that it is the manner that I keep my thoughts in order.”

“What is it?”

“It is a list of the eligible bachelors that have been introduced over the past fortnight.”

Oddly his ruthlessly beautiful features seemed to harden, and his large form stiffened at her explanation.

“Indeed.”

“Unfortunately I know little more than their names. I hoped you would be able to tell me more of them.”

“Me?”

“Well, you are considerably better acquainted with them than myself.”

A golden brow arched, the dark eyes glittering like shards of ebony. “My dear Jane, while I may be considered worldly, I can assure you that my interests do not include worthy young gentlemen.”

Her lips thinned at his drawling words, but she gamely kept her determination intact. “You must know something of them.”

“Nothing more than the fact that I find them tedious bores.”

Her brows furrowed at his mocking tones. Really, he was not being very helpful.

“Will you not at least glance at the names? Perhaps . . .”

“No.” Placing his hands upon his hips, Hellion regarded her with a sharp impatience. “It is too fine a day to waste upon your ridiculous lists.”