Wild, Wicked and Wanton: A Hot Historical Romance Bundle

by Natasha Blackthorne

  “Do they really?” Emily asked.

  “Oh, yes, it is a scandalous thing if a man dances more than twice in one evening with the same young lady.”

  “That’s only if they are engaged. If they are not engaged, then it can only be one dance per night,” Alex said.

  “How provincial they must think us, assigning a man one lady to dance with per evening at our assemblies.”

  “Customs are different all over the world, Maggie,” Alex replied. “One can see benefits and disadvantages to each way.”

  “It seems more sociable for a man to dance with many ladies in the course of an evening,” Emily said.

  Maggie laughed, a sultry, sensual sound. “Then you won’t mind if Alex dances with me. He is an excellent dancer and, unlike so many men, he seems to enjoy it. It would be a pity if he had to sit out every set tonight.”

  “Maggie, I don’t think—” Alex began.

  Emily spoke over him, “Oh please, do dance with her. She’s right—you shouldn’t have to remain on the side just because I can’t.”

  Alex’s jaw tightened ever so slightly but he offered his arm to Maggie and escorted her to where the other couples were lining up for another set. It didn’t matter whom he danced with. Truly it didn’t. She would soon be finding a new job and leaving his house. He would simply be a pleasant memory.

  Why, then, did her throat burn to see him turn and smile at Maggie? Beautiful, flawless Maggie. Emily could never hope to be in the same class as his other women. She couldn’t hope to hold his attention for long. But she couldn’t stay and watch this scene unfold, either.

  She went out onto the balcony to clear her head with the cool, crisp night air. Something rustled in the hedge to her left. She turned to look down and, between the bushes and the window, off to the side of the balcony, a pair of startlingly sky-blue eyes met hers, wide and frightened.

  “Elizabeth, what are you doing there?” Emily said.

  The little girl took flight, running towards the garden, her pale blonde ringlets bouncing and her flannel nightdress glowing ghostly white in the moonlight.

  Emily hadn’t meant to frighten her. And it was such a cold night—she shouldn’t be running about in just a nightdress. She hurried down the stairs to follow the child into the garden. A flash of white flitted into the hedges that bordered the far end of Mrs. Hazelwood’s property and she quickened her pace. When she reached the border, she caught another flash of white from the corner of her eye.

  She turned.

  Elizabeth was standing there looking up at the tall, thin shadow of a man. The man was fishing in his pockets. He handed something to the girl. She took it and studied it.

  He patted her on the head.

  Emily’s heart stopped. She ran towards them.

  The man looked up, his boyish features pale. Richard Green.

  Emily sucked in her breath. “Elizabeth!”

  Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder and her sky-blue eyes turned huge. With a little cry, she turned and ran back for the house, going the roundabout way along the line of hedges that marked the perimeter of the property, her hair streaming behind her, glinting silver in the moonlight.

  Emily picked up her skirts and turned and ran after the child. The sound of boots clanking on paving stones sent another jab of anxiety pounding through her. She ran harder, lifting her knees high.

  Richard Green came running in front of her and stopped, forcing her to halt.

  She stood there, taking great gulps of air.

  “I’ve been needing to speak with you, Miss Eliot. It is about your father.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Richard Green’s manner was polite, as if he hadn’t just forced his presence on her. As if he had never attacked her previously. Yet the way he stood there, his limbs twitching almost as if he were dancing, the way he kept cutting her sideways glances and putting his hand halfway over his mouth, sent prickles over her skin. It made her afraid to make a sudden movement. Some instinct, at the hint of a wild glimmer in his eyes, told her he would be best handled through watchful calmness. If he were to grasp her—

  She backed away slowly, moving further into the garden. Further away from the safety of the house.

  He quickly closed the distance. He took her hand.

  A scream welled up in her throat, burning, pressing its way up. She swallowed it. If she screamed, she would have to explain to others why she was alone in the gardens with him.

  It would also give credence to all the rumors that she had been the petite, thin, dark-haired girl in the Blue Duck that night, whom Alex and Richard Green had fought over.

  With all of that against her, who would believe her an innocent in this?

  The gardens had been empty in any case. The music from the house carried to them. No one would hear her screams.

  “Please, let me pass.” She tried to voice the words evenly but her throat constricted on the last word.

  His grip tightened on her arm. “Aren’t you going to pay me the least civility and ask how I have fared? Or do you see me as something less than a fellow human now that your lover has beaten me to the ground?”

  She gaped at him. Had the man forgotten his own bestial treatment of her?

  “We didn’t meet on exactly friendly terms, Mr. Green. Nor did we part well on our last meeting.”

  He loosened his hold and frowned. “I am sorry for that. I’d had a bit too much to drink. Now, are you going to ask me how I have fared or do I have to assume you despise me now?”

  She decided to placate him, then pick her moment to slip away and run back inside.

  “How have you fared, Mr. Green?”

  “I’ve had some bad luck since our last meeting. A ship I invested heavily in was one of those captured.”

  “I am sorry to hear it.”

  His green eyes burnt with righteous conviction. “You helped him humiliate me that night. I’ll never forgive you.”

  She shook her head. “No, no—I didn’t even know who you were.”

  He smiled, his lips trembling as if he were simply a boy, nervous about talking to a girl. “I must apologize for the other night—at the Blue Duck. I had been drinking quite a bit that night as well. More than I normally do. Seeing Alex there after so long…well, it’s never easy, you understand, to face someone who hates me so much. I always need something to fortify myself.”

  “Why does Alex hate you so much?”

  “Why, indeed—how smoothly you say that, as if you don’t know why.”

  “Well, I don’t.”

  “Let’s not play this game—we’re not children, either of us. You want to keep your secrets from me, then keep them. But I wanted to beg your pardon.” He laughed softly, the sound full of chagrin. “I thought you were a harlot. I should never have assumed such a thing and I treated you savagely. I am not like that. I do know how to treat a young lady and so I shall treat you from here on out.”

  She nodded. What else was she to say? Whether he was regretful or not, he terrified her. She wanted nothing more than to get away from him and go back inside. “Thank you, Mr. Green, for explaining. I really should be going inside now.”

  “I knew your father well and I wonder how you can hold your head up so high today.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The food you ate, the clothes on your back, the very roof over your head, were paid for with the blood of slaves. How can you live with that, Miss Eliot?”

  “You’re insane. My father was a kind man. A just man. He could never have been a slaver. Anyone who knew him would know that.”

  “I knew your father well, I served under him as a boy.” Green continued in detail, giving the name of her father’s ship, his officers, the distinctive marks on her father’s face. “I was called upon, just as any other member of that vessel, to toss the bodies overboard—the men and women who had died wallowing helplessly in their waste—”

  “You’re insane! My father never traded in slaves.” Emily pulle
d hard on his hold.

  He let her go.

  She ran from him.

  “Miss Eliot! Hold up!”

  She picked up her skirts and ran faster.

  “But we’re not done talking!”

  His voice carried on the wind, barely audible above the music that seemed to pound in a staccato rhythm in her ears. She reached the safety of the balcony. On this chilly night, it was still empty.

  She leaned against the wall, backing along it.

  But Green had followed and he was approaching. The gay music echoing loudly from inside the ballroom provided a surreal juxtaposition as he came closer, then loomed over her, his boyish features twisted into a menacing expression. Finding herself fixed tightly in the corner, she swallowed convulsively against rising nausea.

  Of course Green was lying—but why? Just to hurt her? Just because of Alex?

  He slammed his hand on the wall next to her head. She jumped and her breathing increased as he leaned in to her, his green eyes burning into her without mercy. “He was a slaver, trading in flesh and blood, packing them in ships as thoughtlessly as other men stack cord wood. Thousands died at his mercy, all for your pretty frocks and ribbons. It’s poetic justice that your father died in shameful captivity.”

  “Why are you tormenting me with this?”

  “You think the noble-minded Dalton will tie himself to a slaver’s daughter? He’s going to use you, then throw you over when he’s done,” Green said, his voice caressing the words with pleasure. “Perhaps you’ll whelp his bastard and spend the rest of your days begging him for scraps.”

  “Get away from me!” she cried, pressing her fist to her mouth.

  “People have short memories, and back then no one really cared who traded in slaves. But times and sensitivities have changed—and I’ll remind them. I’ll tell everyone exactly who and what your father was. I will. To repay you for helping Alex shame me at the Blue Duck.”

  “Please—just leave me alone.”

  He laughed, the sound soft and sinister. “Watch the papers, sweeting. You’re going to be a scandal.”

  He moved away from her.

  “Wait!”

  He stopped. “Yes?”

  “You can’t possibly mean to do that to me without proof that I really helped Alex shame you, as you put it.” The words came pouring out of her, a desperate attempt to reach whatever was rational or human within him. “You said yourself you were mistaken about me being a harlot. Isn’t it possible you’re mistaken about this as well?”

  He came back to her. “I don’t think I am mistaken.”

  “But I don’t know—an…and if I did, I wouldn’t tell anyone. Not if it was something painful that could hurt Alex—or even you. I have no wish to hurt you, I simply wish you to leave me alone.”

  He stared into her eyes with intimidating effect. “You say that with such feeling, I almost believe you.”

  “It’s true. I don’t know what lies between you and Alex. But I don’t share his depth of feeling about you.”

  He nodded slowly. His eyes seemed to burn with some emotion she couldn’t place. “I think you’re a kind person. I am very sorry you had to cross paths with Alexander Dalton.”

  He paused and looked off to the side. She studied his face, wishing to see a trace of a clue about what could have made the two men hate each other so.

  “What’s your feud with Alex over? He’s the soul of kindness to everyone. I don’t understand—”

  He turned and his eyes riveted on her. “Soul of kindness, eh? You didn’t know him as I did. He was an arrogant, insensitive boy. A snot-nosed little prince. He served on the ship but he was not held to the same rigors as the others.”

  “But he’s your cousin—”

  “On his mother’s side. We’re the poor relations, always beholden to the Daltons for having raised us up from the dregs of poverty.” He wagged his finger at her. “But he was weak from being cosseted and spoiled as a child. He fell into a fever just when strength was needed most. I was in full vigor—I could fend for myself. I could run. He couldn’t carry his own weight.”

  “I don’t understand! Explain. Please.”

  He waved her off. “You understand, all too well.” He closed his eyes.

  The moments passed with the strains of music echoing to them.

  “I don’t think you really want to hurt me. You covered for me already. You told Rachel I wasn’t the girl at the Blue Duck.”

  For long moments there was nothing but the occasional whistle of the chilly wind. She shivered…and waited.

  “Mr. Green?”

  He released a long breath and opened his eyes again. “Very well. If you promise to keep my secrets, I’ll keep yours, too.”

  He backed away from her, then turned and walked back to the gardens.

  She watched him disappear between the hedgerows. Then she shook herself, smoothed her skirts and walked back into the ballroom.

  Frantically searching the crowd, she spied Alex, tall and golden-haired, his back turned to her as he chatted with some older, bewigged gentlemen.

  He looked up at that moment and his face instantly sharpened.

  Alex took one look at Emily with her pale face and wild eyes and the last of his patience snapped. He would not let her paint him the villain tonight. He made his excuses and went to her. He took her hand. She said nothing, just stared at him with eyes that glistened with tears.

  “Come,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She nodded mutely.

  In the carriage he turned to her. She was staring at her lap and would not look at him. She was that sorely vexed with him, was she?

  His anger got the better of him. “I did not appreciate what you did tonight.”

  She glanced up. “What?”

  “With Maggie. You made it impossible for me not to dance with her without being rude. Why would you do that when it clearly was neither what you wanted nor was it what I wanted? Then you sulked for the rest of the evening and disappeared. Was this some kind of a game to make me look the villain?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “Then stop acting so hurt now. I won’t stand for these sorts of machinations from a woman.”

  She finally turned and faced him. “Well, I won’t stand for a man who wants to rule over my life.”

  “Rule over your life?”

  “Yes, telling me I may not have wine in my chambers and that I may not go walking alone. I am not sixteen.”

  How could he tell her about his own youth after his escape from Turkey, about the struggle he’d waged to overcome the addiction to the drugs he’d been given while a slave? That he didn’t wish to see her become addicted to wine, or anything else, for he understood how easily a young person could slide into such habits unawares? He would never speak of his weaknesses like that. He couldn’t.

  “In any case, it was clear to me that you and Maggie were lovers and that you were only refusing her out of politeness. I don’t need any man to make sacrifices for me,” she said.

  “If I want to dance with another woman, I’ll certainly be able to speak for myself. Why are you letting this overset you? It isn’t something that should shock you. I have told you what I am. How my life with women has been. Did you think I was lying?”

  “Yes, you’ve told me you’ll tire of me soon enough. Do you think I am in danger of falling in love with you?” Her lip curled up. “I am not that much of a fool. I shall never love you.”

  Her words were like whiskey tossed carelessly into a fire. A desperate hunger arose in him, taking him over.

  Alex turned to her and the look in his eyes was so blazing that she jumped back on the seat. He took her by the shoulders and lowered his head, sweeping down to kiss her.

  She should not let him kiss her.

  He had stayed away from her for weeks. She knew that he must be abiding with his other women and doing heaven knew what else.

  She should resist him.

  H
owever, his lips seared hers, his tongue hungrily ravishing hers. She’d never guessed it could be like this. This time she was not drunk. That she could be angry with him and yet still want him, shocked her.

  She clasped his broad shoulders and moaned. She tried to cling to him but he remained immovable. His hand roamed over her stomach, up her ribcage to the underside of her breast. He cupped her, applying gentle, steady pressure. She melted and moaned again, dizzy with her rising anticipation. Somehow his large hand had inserted into the confines of her tight bodice, his bare palm grazed her. Her nipple immediately stiffened.

  Dear God, a weeks without his touch. Without tasting his kiss. How was she supposed to resist this. She arched her back and pressed into his fondling. He stopped kissing her, pulled away and stared down at her.

  Heavens, didn’t he look fearsome. So determined. A shiver passed through her.

  “Did you miss me, Emily?”

  She gaped at him, too dazed to speak. Craving the return of his mouth to hers too much to find the will to speak. She touched the back of his head, reveling in the feel of the cool, silken locks and pulled him in closer.

  He laughed, softly.

  The sensual sound sent new shivers of anticipation through her.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. He put his mouth on hers and his kiss swept all her thoughts away.

  His probing tongue was like a blade of scorching flame against hers, taking her breath. She returned his passion in full measure, giving him everything within herself, all the longing for him of the past weeks.

  He growled, deep in his throat. The sound rumbled through to her belly, her bones, thrilling her.

  He jerked his hand from her bodice and then suddenly, cool air rushed over her legs as he yanked up her skirts. He slid his hand along the inside of her thigh. Her limbs melted into jelly, parting for him. He touched her wet heat. She arched herself, seeking the stimulation of his supple, skilled fingers. Her pleasure escalated rapidly, with heat singing in her blood, her heart pounding in her ears and throbbing in her nub. He worked her with steadily increasing intensity, driving her higher and higher. Slipping his fingers inside, teasing her, pleasuring her and then teasing her some more.