Lady Wallflower

by Scott, Scarlett

  Those silky strands felt so smooth and good against her cheek. She inhaled deeply the scent of him—the shampoo he had used to wash his hair, the delicious scent that was all him. Cologne, musk, Decker, man.

  Delicious man.

  How had she ever imagined another could help her to fulfill the items on her list?

  “Everywhere?” he repeated, his voice a decadent rumble. His fist snagged her skirts, lifting them. “Show me where.”

  If she had a modicum of honor, she would leap from his lap and throw herself to the squabs opposite him. But was that not why she was here? Her lack of honor? Her desire to be alone with a man, to be wicked, to complete the items on her fanciful list?

  Yes, it was.

  But still, Jo found herself opening her legs as Decker’s hand slid beneath her skirts. Up her calf, past her knee. He lingered on the hollow there, teasing her until she gasped, wriggling. She wanted that touch on her thighs. Higher, too.

  The words, however—shocking, inappropriate words—gave her pause.

  “Here?” he whispered, caressing her knee.

  “No,” she told him.

  Their faces were close, so close. The striations in his sky-blue eyes were vivid. This was a new intimacy, the sort she had never imagined. The kind she would never have dared.

  His fingers skimmed on, daring to trace circles over her inner thighs. “Here?”

  Jo was certain she was going to turn into flame. She was desperate for those knowing fingers to find her most intimate flesh.

  “Higher,” she dared to say, though she was fairly certain a man as experienced as Decker would know where she wanted his touch and how and why. He was simply toying with her, heightening her need, fanning the flames.

  But before he could give her what she wanted, the carriage rocked to a halt.

  They had arrived at their destination.

  Decker’s hand withdrew from beneath her skirts. He pressed a tender kiss to her lips. “We are—”

  Before he could finish what he had been about to say, the carriage door was wrenched open. The imminent rain had finally unleashed itself upon the city. The night was dark, a torrent of water lashing the street.

  But it wasn’t the violence of the storm, thunder and lightning booming and flashing overhead, that stole the breath from Jo’s lungs. Rather, it was the figure standing on the street in the midst of the deluge. A figure she recognized all too well.

  “Josephine.” Her brother Julian’s voice was cold as Wenham Lake ice, her name cracking like a whip above the din of the tempest.

  They had been caught.

  Decker could blame his current predicament upon his prick.

  He could blame it upon lust.

  He could blame it upon that cursed list Jo had unintentionally delivered to him, which had made him randy as a sailor returned from a lonesome tour of the seas.

  But in the end, the fault for what had happened between Decker and Lady Jo Danvers fell solely upon his inability to resist the forbidden. He was the experienced seducer. He was the jaded man who sought pleasure at all costs. He was the one who had continually pursued her, unable to put an end to the mad attraction between them despite all the risks.

  Only one fate derived from dallying with virginal misses. Decker had known it, and yet he had ignored it for the sake of his raging, unabated desire for her. Now, he was about to pay the price.

  With his life.

  “I expect you want me to marry her,” he told the irate Earl of Ravenscroft as he faced the man in his own study, dripping on the carpets.

  He was soaked to his skin from the relentless storm still raging outside. Jo had fared little better, but she had been bundled off by his efficient housekeeper, who had clucked over her like a mother hen and taken her to a chamber for tea and towels. Which meant Decker was alone to face his reckoning.

  Ravenscroft’s nostrils flared, his jaw tense. “Why the hell would I ever allow my sister to bind herself to the likes of you, Mr. Decker?”

  Right. Fair enough question, sir.

  He supposed because I almost touched her cunny earlier would not prove an appropriate response. So close to paradise. Only to be denied. Decker nearly laughed aloud at the bitter irony. But then, the Earl of Ravenscroft’s fist connected with his jaw, obliterating all humor.

  Damnation, the blighter had a deuced unforgiving right hook. Decker cradled his aching jaw. That blow was deserved. If he were to encounter a man dashing about with his own sister in the midst of the night when she was old enough for such nonsense, he would be similarly tempted to do the man grievous bodily harm.

  Actually, he would slit the bastard’s throat.

  Decker opened his mouth, testing his jaw’s ability to properly function, staring at the earl. “I have compromised her, have I not? That is the way such matters ordinarily proceed, I gather. The gentleman offers to marry the lady he has compromised to keep her reputation from being sullied.”

  “Yes, you have, you despicable bastard,” the earl growled. “She has only recently come out. She is naïve and innocent, and you managed to corrupt her. I want better for her than a scoundrel who would insult her by luring her around London.”

  Decker could not argue with Ravenscroft. He was despicable. And he was a bastard. However, Jo was not as naïve and innocent as the earl believed.

  Thanks, in part, to you.

  He banished the reminder. The list had come from her saucy mind, had it not?

  “If you do not want Lady Josephine to marry me, then what do you intend?” he asked.

  “Marriage to someone else.” Ravenscroft sneered. “A suitable gentleman. But I demand your silence and discretion, Mr. Decker. And I also command you to stay the hell away from my sister from this moment forward. You will never see her again. You will not send her notes. You will never so much as speak her name.”

  “Out of the question,” he snapped before he could think better of the words.

  What are you doing, you fool? You do not have to marry her. Carry on with your life.

  “You dare to defy me?” the earl asked, his fist clenched anew at his side.

  Decker stood his ground. “I owed you the first blow, but consider this a warning, Ravenscroft. If you throw your fists at me again, I shan’t calmly allow you to abuse me. I will hit you back.”

  And hard.

  He would slam his fist into the earl’s pretty nose.

  “You owe me a hell of a lot more than one blow, you cur,” the earl ground out. “I caught my sister in your lap in the midst of the night. And this was not the first occasion upon which you spirited her about London to God knows where. I ought to beat you to death for the lack of respect you have shown her.”

  “She was always safe with me,” he told Ravenscroft. “Despite what you think of me, I would never have allowed any harm to come to her.”

  “You were the harm.” Ravenscroft took another menacing step toward him once more. “Being in your presence was the harm. You debauched her, you villain. Do not suppose, for one moment, that I do not know all about you and your collections of filth and your Black Souls club. I would sooner hang myself than allow my sister to become poisoned by you any further.”

  Decker had never gone to any lengths to hide the manner in which he lived his life. He collected erotic art and literature. He ran his club as he saw fit. He indulged in the pleasures of the flesh as he liked, when he liked, and with whom he liked.

  But it was not lost upon him that the earl’s past was anything but pristine. It had long been rumored that Ravenscroft whored himself out to the ladies of society in exchange for funds. At least, that had been the case until he had married a hideously wealthy American heiress.

  “You are shockingly prudish for a man who has bedded half the women of London in exchange for coin,” he observed coolly, though he knew he was prodding an angry bear. He could not help himself. Ravenscroft’s words stung, as did his outright refusal to consider Decker a worthy candidate for Jo’s hand.
/>   He wanted to marry her off to someone else—anyone else—save Decker.

  The notion filled him with impotent rage.

  “And you are shockingly stupid for a man who was just caught cavorting with my innocent lady sister,” Ravenscroft bit out, threat dripping from his voice.

  “She is hardly innocent, Ravenscroft,” Decker said, giving the earl a smug grin. “Would you truly have her go to another man, possibly carrying my child?”

  The earl’s face went pale. He snarled. And then he struck again, landing another blow to Decker’s jaw. But this time, Decker was not going to stand there and accept a drubbing. He was bloody well going to fight back.

  And he was going to fight for Jo, too.

  Because as much as he loathed the notion of becoming a husband, he loathed the thought of her becoming some other man’s wife a thousand times more.

  He swung at the earl, catching him in the jaw.

  With a cry of sheer rage, Ravenscroft charged at him in the style of an irate bull. They went crashing together into the bookcase, sending volumes tumbling to the floor.

  “I will kill you, you swine,” the earl rasped, trying to get in another punch.

  Decker deflected his fist and landed a blow of his own in Ravenscroft’s midsection. He had only a moment to gloat as the air fled the earl’s lungs in one swift rush. In the next second, Ravenscroft’s fist connected with his cheekbone.

  “Julian! Stop this!”

  Jo’s outraged cry barely punctured the fog of possessive bloodlust roaring through Decker. He was going to see this through, damn it. And he was going to make her his wife.

  “Stay back,” he warned her, removing his gaze from the earl long enough to see her bustling toward the melee.

  Ravenscroft took advantage of his distraction and landed another blow to his jaw. Decker’s head snapped into the bookcase.

  “Julian! That is enough!” she hollered, leaping on her brother’s back.

  Decker would have laughed at the sight if he were not in so damned much pain. Ravenscroft was stronger than he looked.

  “Leave this to me, Josephine,” her brother snapped at her, attempting to shake her off.

  Jo held firm, her arms wrapped around the earl’s neck as she held on. “No! Stop hitting Decker! This is my fault, and I will not allow you to hurt him when I am the one who should be punished.”

  Her defense of him was sweet but unnecessary. He could hold his own with Ravenscroft when she was not there to distract him.

  He passed a hand over his throbbing jaw. “I do not need you to defend me, darling.”

  “I do not want either of you to fight,” she said, her countenance stricken. “This is madness.”

  “Get off me, Josephine, or I will send you to a convent when this is all over,” threatened the earl. “He dared to dishonor you, and now he has to pay the price for his sins. I dare say it will be for the first time in his miserable existence.”

  Hell. Nothing about tonight had proceeded in the way Decker had imagined.

  He was supposed to be happily checking off another item on her wicked list. Instead, he was sporting a blackened eye and facing the fact that he had just acquired himself a wife he did not want.

  Not as his wife, anyway.

  He very much wanted Lady Jo Danvers in other ways—on her back, on her knees, for instance—but that was what had landed him mired in this predicament.

  “Ravenscroft is correct,” Decker forced himself to admit. “I did dishonor you. The burden to make amends for my actions is now on me, which is why I have offered to marry you.”

  “Never happening!” the earl roared.

  “Marry me?” Jo repeated simultaneously, her eyes going wide. “You cannot possibly mean that.”

  “It is the right thing to do,” he said calmly, holding her stare.

  “It is the wrong goddamn thing to do, and as I have already told you, I will never allow you to marry my sister.” The earl finally succeeded in dislodging Jo from her tenacious hold upon his person.

  Looking angry enough to commit murder, he took another swing at Decker. This time, Decker was prepared. He feinted to his left. The earl’s fist connected with a row of book spines, sending more volumes hurtling to the carpet.

  “Cease this at once, both of you!” Jo screeched, planting herself between Decker and Ravenscroft.

  Damn. He was not going to run the risk of landing a blow upon her, just so he could cause the earl a bit more pain.

  Decker glared at Ravenscroft. “The lady is right. Beating each other to a pulp will not solve any problems. The sooner you acquaint yourself with the fact that I will be marrying her to save her from any…consequences, the better.”

  Was he a bastard for emphasizing that word and implying he had taken Jo to bed when he had yet to so much as touch her cunny? Yes. Was he desperate enough to obtain her as his bride rather than see her married to another man? Also yes.

  The earl made a guttural sound in his throat.

  “Enough,” Jo snapped. “I will not have the two of you injuring each other. Julian, please take me home and leave Mr. Decker to his evening.”

  “I will not go until I have his promise never to so much as speak your name again,” the earl said, the proverbial dog with a bone he refused to relinquish.

  “And I will not agree to such a ludicrous promise,” Decker told him in return. “Since the lady in question is to be my bride, how do you propose I keep from speaking her name?”

  Ravenscroft’s face went ruddy with rage. “You will never marry her.”

  “Of course I am not marrying Mr. Decker,” Jo agreed quietly. “Please, Julian. Let us return home. Surely Clara will be fretting over you.”

  What was this? Decker frowned at Jo. “You are marrying me, my dear, and this is final.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Am I to have no say in the matter of my future? The two of you are behaving like a pack of wild mongrels!”

  She was not wrong, but that did not abate his displeasure over her summarily refusing to marry him. “After the kerfuffle we have created this evening, I am afraid we have no other choice. My servants are discreet, but any one of them could be tempted to speak if given the proper motivation. Moreover, anyone could have seen Ravenscroft here squawking in the streets this evening.”

  “I do not squawk, you vile hound!” the earl spat.

  “Stop it!” Jo hollered. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

  The fury in her voice took Decker by surprise. He blinked. Ravenscroft did as well, looking equally befuddled. Much to Decker’s satisfaction, he noted a bruise blossoming on the earl’s jaw. His own throbbing cheekbone promised a similar discoloration.

  “Julian, I want to go home,” she announced into the shocked silence.

  “I will call upon you tomorrow,” Decker said, “to make a formal offer for your hand.”

  “And I will be happy to refuse it tomorrow just the same way I did today.” Ravenscroft’s lip curled.

  It occurred to him that Jo’s brother intended to oppose him all night long. And Decker was beginning to develop a colossal headache.

  “Just go, you stubborn horse’s arse,” Decker could not resist nettling.

  It was wrong of him, especially since he had just been caught with the earl’s sister in his lap in the midst of the night, but Decker’s rapidly swelling eye demanded vengeance.

  Ravenscroft’s nostrils flared. “You damned—”

  “Enough!” Jo interrupted, her cheeks flushed.

  Decker took pity on her. She looked as if she were wallowing in enough misery for all three of them put together. This could hardly be easy for her.

  He inclined his head to her. “As you wish. I will see you tomorrow, bijou.”

  “Lady Josephine to you, rotter,” the earl said.

  Decker bit the inside of his cheek to keep from responding, doing his best to ignore his future brother-in-law.

  Good God, he was going to get married.

  “Heaven help me
, where have I gone wrong, Josephine? Two sisters, two forced weddings.”

  Jo faced her brother Julian’s wrath as they journeyed back home, wishing the carriage floor would open and swallow her whole. “Your wedding was forced as well,” she dared to remind him.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do not speak unless it is required of you, my lady. My wedding has nothing to do with this.”

  “You asked me a question,” she pointed out, feeling more daring than she probably ought. “I was merely reminding you that you are far from a saint yourself.”

  “I never should have allowed the two of you to remain with Aunt Lydia as long as I did,” he said, disgust lacing his words. “I hold her responsible for the wayward misses she foisted upon me.”

  “Alexandra is happily married to Lord Harry,” she grumbled. “I hardly think her a wayward miss.”

  “I agree. What you have done is far, far worse than any wrong steps your sister made,” he said sternly. “She merely managed to find herself in a deal of trouble in a carriage at a country house party. You, however, have been gallivanting about London in the midst of the night on no less than three occasions with a known rakehell who runs one of the wickedest clubs in London and collects vulgar art and literature.”

  Jo frowned at her brother. “First, I was not suggesting that what I have done was more egregious than Alexandra. Second, how do you know how many times I met with Decker?”

  “A concerned servant spied you going into a strange carriage the evening you claimed to be too sick to attend Lord and Lady Helmhurst’s soiree.” His countenance was as grim as if he were about to attend a funeral.

  “Lord and Lady Helmhurst are terribly boring. She laughs like a braying donkey, she only wants to discuss her various ailments, and all he talks about is hunting,” she defended. “Do you know, I once suffered through a dinner engagement during which Lady Helmhurst monopolized the conversation to talk about her gout?”

  She was attempting to lighten his dark mood, it was true. Julian was not ordinarily so disapproving. He was a caring, generous brother who she knew loved her as much as she loved him. But the brother before her now little resembled that man, and she did not like it. And if she were completely honest with herself, she would admit that she also felt a great deal of guilt at deceiving him and disappointing him.