Wild, Wicked and Wanton: A Hot Historical Romance Bundle

by Natasha Blackthorne

  Oh, Lord, they had moved from degrade to debase.

  His breathing increased and his heart began to pound because he knew. He was going to have to tell her. Just this one thing. Just because she must understand that what had happened and his feelings that she’d intuited had nothing to do with her and everything to do with him and his past.

  He inhaled deeply. “The first time I took a woman in that manner, I was only eighteen and I was forced.”

  “But how—”

  He shook his head. “I told you, there are things about my past that I shall never speak of, at least not fully. I can’t. I am sorry. You must accept whole what I tell you when I say I was forced to do it and not probe further. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” She moved over on the seat and touched his face. She was so generous, ever generous. The slightest bit he gave, she would accept. Her eyes shone with sympathy and love.

  The moment was too open and he had to close his eyes. He put his hand to hers and pressed it tighter to his cheek. “As I told you before, my mother was a good woman. A devout Congregationalist. My father made us attend the Anglican Church for his business needs but she always remained a strict Calvinist at heart. She raised me to believe as she did.”

  “You loved her very much.” Empathy resounded in her voice, soft and rich.

  “As a boy, I worshipped her, and I could do no less than honor her beliefs by believing in kind. I knew these things I was forced to do were wrong and yet I enjoyed them. I grew to crave them. It was all so very seductive and I fell to the temptation.”

  “What young man wouldn’t?”

  “Well, I had some very definite ideas about carnality back then.”

  “Such as saving yourself for the marriage bed?”

  “Yes. I felt very strongly about it. I even resisted what I would have termed self-abuse.”

  “Did you really?” Incredulous shock entered her voice.

  “Oh yes, I was rather dogmatic about it.”

  “How successful were you?”

  “Quite.”

  “You denied yourself carnal pleasure as a young man?”

  “I was determined. That is how I became so proficient at drawing maps. It was one of the things I would do to distract myself when improper thoughts occupied my mind.”

  “And you had such thoughts often?”

  “Constantly. They bedeviled me at the most inopportune times. I also had dreams. It always disturbed me that I couldn’t stop having the dreams. But they were my only source of release.”

  “Goodness, Alex. Were you planning on becoming a clergyman?”

  “There was a time, before my mother’s death, before I left college when I did entertain such a notion. But I had no patience for so much study of Latin and other useless topics. At least I thought them useless at the time. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to learn about things that were real.”

  “But you held to your pure habits?”

  “I tried. Dear God, I tried.”

  “Then you were seduced… seduced with some measure of forcefulness?”

  A prickling sensation crept over his neck. He was revealing too much, getting too close to telling her more than he should. “Once I succumbed, I found I liked carnality very much. I also found I had a great capacity for it and a need for novelty, variety. The depths of my appetites frightened me at times but I couldn’t control them.”

  This last admission came torn from his very guts. What man ever wanted to admit that he had failed? But he had to let her know the extent of his shame, for her sake. A slightly sick sensation twisted in his stomach. What would she think of him now?

  “Novelty? You mean things like we shared last night?”

  “Yes, but I have never made complete peace with inflicting them on a woman. Do you understand now that any negative feelings you sensed were not about you but about me?”

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  “I am sorry that I hurt you.”

  “Yes, of course. I didn’t understand. Thank you for sharing this with me. For trusting me.” She pulled her hand from under his and entwined her arms about his neck and pressed her body to his.

  They rode in silence like this, her soft warmth close to him, her gillyflower scent teasing his senses. A shaft of light shone between the curtains and turned a ringlet that lay on her collarbone to pure fiery ruby red. It gave him pleasure to contemplate her lovely, ivory-and-roses face. He remembered his first glance of her when he had dismissed her as something less than attractive, and a rueful smile tugged at his mouth. How could he ever have not thought her beautiful? He tightened his hold on her, enjoying the feel of her delicateness.

  “Alex.”

  “Yes, my love?”

  “You believe what we did last night was particularly shameful?”

  “I suppose I do.” He was surprised at how easily he could admit this. To her.

  “Yet, you do realize that strictly speaking, we have been fornicating all along.”

  “Yes, of course, but somehow it seems a lesser sin.”

  “I can’t help but believe the church elders would frown very much upon the idea of you spanking my bare arse in the midst of fornication.”

  He could hear the amusement in her voice. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, my love, I suppose they would.”

  “You enjoyed what we did last night? You crave it, at times?”

  “I do.” More than he wanted to admit.

  She glanced up through her lush, dark russet lashes. “You should know something.”

  “What should I know?”

  “Nothing we can share that brings us joy can be wrong.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “I don’t believe it, I know it. In my heart, I know it. And I shan’t allow anyone to tell me otherwise.”

  She was staring at him with that same pure, healthy adoration as when she watched him undress.

  And they were so close now, at this moment, there was no room for shame.

  His claret-haired girl, with her open heart and mind. There was no one in the world like her. If she could look at him like that, if she could love him that unconditionally—even after the two days just past, given a glimpse of his worst sides—then he couldn’t be so bad, could he? Warmth filled him.

  “We should do that again,” she said, with the firmness of her customary convictions.

  He could admit to himself, now, how comforting he found her self-assurance. It steadied him in a way nothing else had ever done. It had been one of the very first things that had attracted him to her. And it was one of the things that made him love her so deeply. Made him need her.

  “You want to let me do that again? Even after all this trouble between us?”

  “We must do it again.” Her voice resonated with feeling. “As soon as possible. This afternoon.”

  Lust slammed into his loins with a suddenness that took his breath. “This afternoon?”

  “Yes, and we shall make it as right and good and pure as anything else we have ever done. I am awkward at this new way of loving but you will teach me how. Just as you taught me everything else we have shared.”

  Her voice rang with such passion, such surety. She just had a way of painting mental pictures with her words, with the pitch of her emotion. He could believe that together, they could make even sodomy something sacred between them.

  Only she could release him from his long held shame.

  He longed for it to happen. He needed it to happen.

  “Yes, this afternoon,” he said.

  She released a sigh. “Well, that’s settled then.”

  He felt his face stretch with his widening smile. “You are very good for me.”

  “Do you really think so, Mr. Dalton?”

  “Yes, I do, I know it and I shan’t allow anyone to tell me otherwise.”

  They clung to each other for long moments. He moved his hand and cupped her breast through her gown and her stays.
Their breathing increased. His own heartbeat pounded in his ears. He began to tell her all manner of silly, sentimental things.

  “I can’t wait to show the whole world how much I love you.”

  He heard the catch in her breath. Her body tensed.

  “Then when are you going to make that official?” There was a definite edge in her voice.

  The air seemed to have suddenly been sucked out of the carriage. She’d had to do it. To spoil the moment. Well, that was a woman for you. He removed his hand from the soft, warm curve of her breast and sat back against the seat.

  That same, nameless dread beat through him. If they set a date for the wedding now, something was going to happen. Something that would take her away from him. They must pick the right time. He mustn’t be greedy and rush things or fate would take notice and snatch her away. God, how irrational! Yet the feeling was terribly real. He couldn’t seem to draw a deep enough breath. He hooked a finger into his cravat and tugged.

  “Alex.” Her voice rang with hurt. “I begin to think it is you who does not want to be wed.” She squirmed against his hold.

  He let her go and then watched her move to the far edge of the seat.

  How could that happen?

  At least, how could it happen so quickly?

  They had been so close and now…

  The sense of loss made his chest tighten. But, damn it, why did she have to push like this? “There’s no need for unseemly haste between us.”

  There, that sounded logical. Reasonable. Certainly more reasonable than admitting his irrational fears to her. No man could admit to such a thing.

  Her shoulders rose up and she took on that tense, brittle look from earlier. Christ, he wanted to kick something. But he didn’t wish to frighten her, so he held himself back.

  “Emily, let’s be—”

  Her eyes flashed. “Well, surely we can make a formal announcement of our engagement?”

  “There might be talk. You’d have to go live elsewhere.“ God. Even he hated himself for that one. There already was talk. Too much of it. Alexander Dalton living under the same roof with a girl he’d met in a disorderly tavern. “Soon, soon we shall wed, quietly. You said you had no objections to a quiet wedding.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then we really cannot make an announcement.”

  She compressed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “So you keep telling me.”

  “A formal wedding means not only a lavish, public ceremony but also days and days of tedious afternoon visits. You’ll be expected to kiss every frog-faced politician and tin-peddling merchant I know and serve them tea and cakes and laugh at their asinine jests. You won’t like that.”

  She rolled her eyes. “No, I won’t. But Alex, it seems to me that you pretty much do whatever you please no matter what other people say. I can’t believe you would feel bound to let Mrs. Hazelwood and others force you into a large wedding.”

  Ah, trapped again. His mind frantically searched for a way out of her logic. “I would do it for your sake. Because I don’t want you to be rejected by society.”

  The carriage came to a stop.

  He thought of something else. “When we come back from our wedding trip, coming out bride, being paraded at church like a fashion doll, will be enough of a strain.”

  Strain showed in her features. “Yes, I think it will.”

  “Well, all right then. Why must we bicker over this?”

  “I am not bickering, I just want to know when we shall be married. I grow weary of all this sneaking around. I should like to sleep with you openly in your chamber.”

  The carriage door opened, delivering him.

  ****

  Emily allowed Alex to help her out of the carriage, though she barely managed to hold her tongue in front of Zachariah. If Alex thought this conversation was closed, he had better think again. He reached out and raised his eyebrows. She was forced to place her hand on his arm and let him draw her up to the steps and into the house.

  As they entered, Mrs. Webbs came from the direction of the kitchen, looking fresh-faced for having spent two days at her daughter’s crowded and busy household. She smiled broadly. “Miss Emily, Mr. Alexander.”

  Alex turned his charming smile on the housekeeper. “Did you have an enjoyable time away?”

  “I certainly did,” Mrs. Webbs answered.

  Alex made further inquiries about her many grandchildren, remembering them all by age, temperament and inclination, as was part of his favorable way with people. Emily couldn’t help but feel that he was delaying resuming his discussion with her. Impatience pressed on her until she gritted her teeth.

  But it wasn’t coming any time soon. Alex could hold people in absolute thrall and make them believe he found them to be the most interesting subject in the whole world. Mrs. Webbs wasn’t immune. She smiled broadly, sharing the most intricate details of her family’s life. Normally, Emily would have been interested but today she longed only to be alone with Alex. She hated feeling so distant from him and wanted the air cleared between them as soon as possible.

  But Cato came in and the conversation turned to the current events reported on in the newspapers. They both were soon laughing soundly at Alex’s wry jests about politics.

  Finally a knock sounded on the front door. No one seemed to notice. Emily rolled her eyes, sighed and stalked over to answer it.

  Her eyes met a cravat tied so perfectly it seemed humanly impossible. She looked up, taking in features that were handsome in a polished, patrician way and queued, coal-black hair. The man’s eyes, a glacial gray, flickered over her impersonally, impatiently.

  Emily shivered with immediate dislike.

  “Is Mr. Dalton here?” he asked briskly, as if he’d been kept waiting forever.

  “Yes, he is…” Her voice broke and, irritated with herself at letting this person fluster her, she cleared her throat. “May I ask who is calling?”

  “You may tell him Mr. Asahel Sexton of New York is here. I am expected.” His ebony eyebrows drew together slightly and he turned back towards the drive.

  She followed his eyes and saw a dark-haired young man kneeling along the edge of the drive examining something very closely.

  “Grey.” The single word held a paragraph’s worth of admonishment. Almost as if the name were a swear word.

  The young man looked up. His face resembled Sexton’s but was more angular, leaner, skin stretched over hard bones.

  “It’s an African mouse, I think. But I’ll have to show it to Mr. Peale and ask his opinion to be sure. It must have come from some packing crate and traveled here in Mr. Dalton’s carriage. The poor devil probably got the shock of its life in our chilly weather.”

  He sounded as if the unfortunate rodent were the most interesting thing he’d ever contemplated.

  It appeared to be just an ordinary mouse to Emily.

  Mr. Sexton released an exasperated sigh. “Will you get your mind off such trivial matters for once? It’s just a rat.” He turned back to Emily. “May I please come in?”

  He blew a plume as he spoke but his eyes and tone were frostier than the air.

  She nodded and backed inside and collided with something solid and warm. She gasped and looked over her shoulder. Alex smiled down at her. His charming, public smile. She iced over inside.

  He took her hand. “Emily, this is Mr. Asahel Sexton of New York.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Sexton,” she said without any feeling of truth.

  “Asahel, this is Miss Emily Eliot.”

  Sexton’s eyes cut to her and bore into her, gray as lead. Then they narrowed. “Yes, I gathered as much. You do have Tom Eliot’s look about you.”

  It almost sounded like a curse. Inexplicably, she suddenly felt like crying. She shook herself and forced herself to smile. Mr. Sexton continued to stare at her. Or through her. She wasn’t sure.

  Alex’s hand laced with hers and he pulled her along with him. Good manners forced her to fol
low him.

  “We’ll go talk in my study,” Alex said.

  Sexton gave a terse nod, his eyes lighting with something close to warmth. Apparently, Alex rated some respect.

  After they had settled in the study, Alex showed Sexton Emily’s book. Sexton thumbed through the pages briskly, nodding to himself.

  “Yes, you’ve done good work for our cause with her,” Sexton said, as if Alex alone were responsible for the quality of the book and her artistic talent.

  Emily swallowed deeply, biting back a retort. Alex gave her a sympathetic look and winked at her. She forced back the urge to smile. She was still vexed with him.

  He came to her and took her hand.

  “Miss Eliot and I are to be wed.”

  Emily caught her breath. God. Alex had finally told someone outside of his innermost circle. Someone important.

  Sexton closed the book with a snap and glanced up over his spectacles sharply at Alex. “You are? When?”

  She hardly dared breathe. Surely Alex would have to commit himself. He patted her hand and dropped it. “Soon.”

  She let her breath out and her shoulders sagged. That horrid word! It was getting to be too much.

  ”Well, I have heard nothing about this,” Sexton said in a tone that suggested that, if he hadn’t heard of it, it couldn’t possibly be true.

  “We haven’t made a formal announcement yet. I hope I may rely on your confidence on the matter.”

  “I see,” Sexton said, turning his penetrating gray eyes to her. Clearly he weighed her and found her lacking.

  Rather than continue to subject herself to that chilly, piercing gaze, she dropped her eyes to her lap and listened as Alex and Sexton began to talk of business matters and the launching of the Sophia, a joint venture of theirs that would sail for the Sandwich Islands and the Pacific Northwest.

  Boots sounded on the floorboards and she glanced back up.

  The tall young man entered. Though dressed in well-tailored clothes of obviously expensive materials, his build was that of one poised between adolescence and manhood, all gangly limbs and a broad, oversized jaw.

  “Done playing with rats?” Sexton asked in a dry tone.

  The young man’s ears tinged red and his mouth came open. Then it quirked up and closed. He folded his arms over his chest and looked woefully out of place and uncomfortable.