Wild, Wicked and Wanton: A Hot Historical Romance Bundle

by Natasha Blackthorne

  At his silence, she shrugged. “I am no one. Just a nameless waif.”

  He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Nonsense. You are Mrs. Elizabeth Sexton.”

  “Yes, to the world. But who am I really?”

  The bed rocked as he suddenly sat. He put a finger under her chin and tipped her face up. “Look at me.” His eyes were tender. “You are both Beth and Elizabeth and something more. You are yourself. You are a beautiful, loyal, loving and wonderfully warm and wanton woman. And you are everything I ever wanted and needed but didn’t know I wanted and needed.”

  Her heart melted. Just melted. But… “You really mean that? Or are you just—”

  “Of course I mean it.” He sat back and took her hand. “And I have a confession to make.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, I need wicked Beth a lot more often than she comes around these days.” He wrapped her hand around his erection.

  At the touch of his turgid, throbbing heat, some of her excitement returned in a pulse-pounding surge.

  He squeezed her hand tighter. “This is all for you. My cock is yours, just as every part of me is yours. Yours to use as you please. As pleases both of us.”

  He released her hand and reached over for the bottle of oil. “Prepare me again.”

  She stroked his erection, generously coating him with the oil. He held his cock straight up.

  “Straddle me and face away.”

  She did as he asked, and as his cock touched her anus, he pressed up gently but insistently. She pushed down firmly, eager to feel him fully embedded within her. A prick of pain made her catch her breath and stop.

  He caressed her back, sliding her silken tresses over her flesh. “Easy now, love—go easily and it won’t hurt you at all.”

  Slowly, she eased down, and gradually the head of his cock pushed through the tight ring of muscle…and then he was sliding up into her, filling her. Oh God, after all this time, to have a man—not just any man—but Grey inside her like this was sheer bliss. She moved experimentally.

  Oh, she liked this. Liked it very much.

  Then he inserted two of his un-oiled fingers into her channel and she liked it even better. He flicked her nub with his thumb and fucked her with his fingers while she fucked him with her anus.

  She bit down on her lip, suppressing her scream as all her internal muscles contracted at once.

  After she caught her breath, he urged her off his cock.

  She moved off him and lay on the bed. He rolled her over and entered her anus again, from behind.

  The pleasure stunned her—pleasure without any pain. She moaned. The sound echoed loudly in the bedchamber but she didn’t care. She gripped handfuls of the sheets and pressed her buttocks backwards against his loins.

  He bent over her. He touched his lips to her nape and moved to the hollow beneath her ear. He touched her nub, rubbing her softly, slowly. “This is just you and I, my love. Here in our bed, nothing else matters but our mutual enjoyment.”

  He thrust into her with such force and passion that it sent her over the edge again. She pushed her face into the pillow as her hands fisted the bedding and she felt as though she might never stop coming.

  He tightened his hands on her hips and made a sound between a groan and a shout. Then he collapsed on her. She lay catching her breath.

  His lips moved against her nape. “Nothing matters but you and I.”

  The words sent warmth curling through her, swirling tendrils of happiness that swelled into outright elation. The long-held discord between them had been shattered to bits. Her mouth curved into a smile as soft, safe darkness carried her away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The sound of raised voices woke her. She reached out and found Grey gone. Beth sat up in the bed. Pale, gray light showed through a crack in her heavy, dark blue drapes. What the devil? She hurriedly donned her nightdress and wrapper and ran out of her bedchamber to investigate.

  “My own son, making a public spectacle of himself, brawling in a brothel.”

  At Grey’s words, she paused halfway down the stairs. He was standing with Jan in the vestibule. Jan’s clothing was in disarray, torn in places, and his face bore several red, swollen bruises.

  Jan left off touching his cheek and aped a look of exaggerated indignation. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a brothel.”

  “Close enough.”

  “Oh, your prodigal son, whatever shall you do with him now?” Jan laughed, the sound mocking and cynical.

  She ran down the stairs and approached the two Sexton men. Jan suffered her close inspection of his abused face with good grace.

  “What happened to you?” she asked, looking up at Grey.

  “A little misunderstanding over a turn of the cards,” Jan said.

  “The Watch just dragged him home,” Grey added, cutting his eyes at his son. “Luckily for him, his father is well connected.”

  “I didn’t ask for leniency,” Jan defended hotly. “I was prepared to be taken in, just as the others were.”

  “The captain of the Watch himself brought him home. Said he’d been in one of the most sordid stews in all of New York, the kind of place a man could catch the pox from just sitting in the chairs. That he was there practically begging for a beating.”

  “I’m done with this—I am for bed.” Jan walked away. Then he stopped and groaned, placing a hand to his head. His eyes jiggled from side to side.

  Beth gasped in alarm. “We had better send for a physician to check him over.”

  “He should be here at any moment,” Grey replied in terse tones.

  * * * *

  Beth watched as Grey sat down on her bed.

  “It’s worse than it appeared at first glance. He has three broken ribs and he may have a slight concussion. The symptoms he shows in the next few hours will tell the full story.”

  Her heart rose into her throat. “Who is with him now?”

  “He is resting for now. We must hope for the best. I left one of the maids with him.” He dropped his head and covered his face with his hands and vigorously rubbed his eyes.

  She arose from the bed and went to the bell cord to call for Miss Fairchild to come and help her dress for the day. She would sit with Jan.

  “Why can’t he behave properly? Why can’t he grow up? I do not need this at this moment in time. I have to travel to Philadelphia.”

  She froze with her hand on the cord. “Philadelphia? Why?”

  He lowered his hands and sat up straight, then he sighed. “After all these months of back and forth negotiation, I can’t persuade the insurance company to pay the claim.”

  “What claim?”

  “Sexton Shipping will have to take them to court. They are contesting our reporting in the case of the fire that damaged the East Indiaman, The Philadelphia Pride, beyond repair. They assert, incorrectly, that we listed cargo on board in our claim that we had really already sent to the warehouse. Yet that cargo had never been unloaded.”

  She came and sat beside him. “How much money would you lose if they won?”

  “It’s not just the money, Beth,” he said impatiently. “They are calling my captain and myself liars. The honor of Sexton Shipping is at stake. It could affect our reputation and that might have devastating consequences. I shall have to travel to Philadelphia and oversee the handling of the case myself.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “I don’t know. It could prove a protracted stay.”

  “When are you going?”

  “Soon. But first I have to get to Albany.”

  “But you’ve only just returned. When will you be going to Albany?”

  “As soon as possible, given Jan’s condition. But I shall only be gone a matter of days.” He placed his head in his hands again. “Lord, I am tired.”

  “May I come with you to Philadelphia?”

  He looked up and his brows lifted. “You want to?”

  “Of course I do. I am your wife.”

&n
bsp; He smiled slightly and shook his head. “But you’d be bored to distraction. I shall be consumed totally with this business.” He reached over, then caressed her arm in a sensual motion. “You should stay here and continue your work with the school.”

  “My manager sees to everything.”

  His hand stilled. “I did not realize you’d turned over all work to Mrs. Van Dyke.”

  “She’s very capable.”

  “I see.” He let go of her arm and his gaze, now distant and cooler, flickered over her.

  Dread twisted through her stomach. “What?”

  “Beth, you must know that I will not abide Dr. Wade in my house or you seeing him elsewhere. You should have asked the housekeeper to tell him you were not receiving visitors. It is the polite way to decline unwanted guests.”

  She gaped at him. He was bringing this up now? On top of everything else. Damn, it seemed trivial of him. Well, it was easily explained. “He brought Ruth and Amy and Charley up from Philadelphia. How could I be rude to him?”

  Grey stared back, his eyes pitiless gunmetal. “I am not saying to be outright rude. Just don’t encourage him—don’t encourage him in the least. Be a woman for once—the lady of this house, not some soft, giddy girl.”

  His chiding tone made Beth seethe. She sat up straighter as heated words flew to her lips. “I didn’t encourage him. I merely—”

  “And one more thing—Ruth absolutely cannot live here.”

  “But Grey–”

  He held up a hand. “If she must abide in New York, I shall buy her a house, but I will not have her manipulating you for money or favors.”

  She gaped at him. “You understand nothing about family or caring for others.”

  “Beth, I understand.”

  “You have odd ways of showing it.” He was a father to Jan in name only. Admitting that hurt broke something inside her—and suddenly everything had changed.

  All this time, she had worried she would not please him—would not be good enough to be his wife. But, truthfully, he did not please her. He was not worthy to be father to her children. Did not give of himself enough to be husband enough for her.

  She deserved better.

  Jan deserved better.

  Their future children deserved more and Grey had a lot of proving to do.

  No sooner had the thought come into her head than she blurted it out in determined tones. “You should take Jan with you to Philadelphia and let him help you.”

  His dark brows drew together. “Jan?”

  “Yes, your son.” She grasped his arm. “Grey, you must mend things with him. You have to become a real father to him.”

  His muscles tensed under her hand. “A real father? What the devil do you mean by that?”

  “I mean you must bring him close to you, show him how much you value him and teach him all he needs to know to make his place in this world. I cannot respect you if you don’t.”

  Grey smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I value my son, Beth. I have been working hard at negotiating his place back at Harvard. I have almost succeeded.”

  “He doesn’t want to return to college.”

  “Every gentleman of breeding goes through college, whether he wants to or not,” Grey said.

  “You don’t understand—he found college too boring. They taught him useless things—ancient languages and mythology that his practical mind couldn’t abide. He wants to have a real purpose. He wants to serve you, to be what you want him to be.”

  “I never wanted him to feel pushed into the family business, not like I was. I wanted him to be able to bide his time and study and spend time with his friends. To travel when college was over. I wanted him to have the choices I never had.”

  “But he’s different from you—or at least the way you were as a young man. He takes no pleasure from study. He needs to feel useful—useful to you, especially. He wants you to take him in hand and train him to be a help to you. He’s clever and intelligent and eager to become someone of responsibility in the real world.”

  “Why does he tell you these things, but he would not tell me?”

  “Because he feels you do not listen to him. He tested you. He told you fantastical ideas to see if you would challenge him on them or explain why they wouldn’t work. He wanted you to instruct him and you showed that you had no interest in teaching him. He believes you don’t care about him or value his willingness to serve you.”

  “I didn’t want him to feel pressured into early responsibility.”

  “He needs it, or else he will destroy himself. He needs to earn your respect—and his own.”

  “My own father sent me out as a supercargo on his ships, but I was older than Jan and this is wartime. He’s only seventeen. I suppose I could find him a place as a clerk and see how that goes.”

  “No. He’s not suited to be a mere clerk. He’d find it too tedious. It must be something more personal, a personal service to you, a position of trust and responsibility. Something of deep meaning for the business.”

  Grey sighed. “When I get back from Philadelphia, I shall look into it.”

  His tone was firm. Arrogantly confident that he knew and understood so much more than she ever could. He was intelligent and wise in so many ways, but on this he was absolutely wrong. Frustration welled up in her. “But why can’t you take him with you to Philadelphia?”

  “My mind will be totally occupied with this business over the Pride and the grievous insult done to Sexton Shipping’s good name. The stakes are high.”

  “All the more reason to take him and include him in something important to you.”

  “Beth, I know what is best for the business.”

  “And the business must always come first—even before the people you care for the most.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.

  “Why won’t you even try to understand my position? How can you pretend to love me and yet be unable to see my side of things?”

  “I see your position but I also see that you do not have your priorities straight. Jan is more important than any business could ever be. It’s almost too late for you to repair things with him, to make things right for him.” She paused. “You must be a true father. I know too well what the lack of a father feels like.”

  His silver eyes turned to frost. “I am being a true father. I do so best by protecting my assets. Sexton Shipping shall one day belong to Jan and any sons you and I may have. And their sons. You are not looking at things clearly enough. It’s about the larger vision, Beth. You have to trust my judgment.”

  His final tone said that the subject was closed. She watched with a sinking sensation in her stomach as he left her chamber. How was she going to continue to love and respect a man who would not be a true father to his own ?

  * * * *

  A knock on the door brought Grey out of his deep concentration on an important letter to Mr. Heron. “Enter!”

  The door opened and a pale-faced, adolescent clerk inched inside. “Mr. Sexton, I know you said not to disturb you, but Mrs. Allen says she must see you.”

  Suppressing a sigh, Grey put his quill into the inkwell. “Well, then, show her in.”

  The clerk hurried away.

  Grey glanced down at the letter. It was instructions for his clerks to follow while he was away. He’d put off the trip to Albany, for Jan had spent the early morning hours following his arrest dizzy and vomiting and with a headache so terrible he’d been unable to move at all. The weakness Jan showed over the next few days had alarmed Grey and he’d made up his mind to postpone. However, Jan seemed to be doing fine now. The trip couldn’t be delayed any longer.

  “Grey?”

  Ruth’s characteristic, feigned humble tone grated on his ears. He compressed his lips for a moment, then looked up. She stood in the doorway, her shoulders slumped and her mouth turned down in its habitual grimace. He already knew what she wanted. Money.

  He forced a pleasant expression. “Ruth, how are you today?”
/>
  Ruth shuffled from foot to foot. Her rose-colored morning gown bore far too many frills to suit her well-rounded figure, marking her taste as common, bordering on the sluttish.

  With difficulty, he summoned all his patience. “Come in, Ruth.”

  “I hate to bother you but…”

  That quaver in her voice…she was a very good actress. He held up his hand, remembering belatedly to stand in the presence of his wife’s sister. He hurried to the door, closed it and motioned to a chair.

  “Have a seat. Would you care for some claret?”

  She touched her throat and cleared it, the graveled sound echoing loudly in the chamber. “I think I would.”

  He poured her a glass and gave it to her. Then he walked back to lean against his desk and wait while she gulped the fine claret as though it was rum. Beyond belief. Simply beyond imagining that his beautiful, graceful, open-hearted wife had been born of the same mother as this common, coarse, self-seeking creature. Something snapped inside him. “You need money, do you not?”

  Ruth snorted in mid-swallow.

  “Oh, please, Ruth—let us have no pretense between us. In the nearly five months since I married Beth and brought her here to New York, you have written her—what is it? Once or twice.”

  Ruth lowered her glass and cradled it in her lap. Her eyes meet his, a mulish look to them. “Twice.”

  “Twice, in all these months. That’s not the way of a loving sister.”

  “But—but you don’t understand. I’ve been busy.”

  “Both times you have written, you have asked her for significant sums of money, have you not?”

  “I might’ve mentioned some pressing needs, and Elizabeth was kind enough to give me a little here and there…”

  Disdain rose in him so strongly that he couldn’t keep from shaking his head. “No. No.”

  Ruth’s mouth dropped open. “No?”

  “No, that’s not the way it went. You played on her sympathies, her affections. You wrote to her specifically to wheedle money out of her. Money to clear up various scrapes made by Charlie and your son. I know all about Charlie’s habits—his women, the gambling and how far into debt he has driven himself.”