Wicked in His Arms

by Stacy Reid

  Her eyes widened. “I am not sure if the best place to start is with Papa.”

  “I find that we tend to be defined by the actions of our fathers. So I say it is a good place to start.”

  “Do you speak from experience?

  He exhaled slowly. “I do.”

  She considered him for a brief moment. “My father was the Baron Harcourt, and I am sure you know the scandal surrounding his name.”

  “From time to time I may hear rumors, but I do not listen to them.”

  One of her shoulders lifted in an inelegant shrug. “Papa did not love my mother. He married her because she was an heiress and he needed her money. He gambled and whored it away,” she said bluntly. “He met someone he loved dearly. They had an affair. When her husband threatened to take her children if she did not end the affair, she agreed. He killed himself,” she ended flatly. “And he left me and Mamma to face his debts and the horrid scandal alone. According to the ton, I have the taint of his blood in my veins.”

  Tobias considered the manner in which her fingers clenched and unclenched on the reins.

  “Do you have good memories?” he asked softly, remembering each time someone asked of his father, they had only desired to hear the worst, not the good that had been present. Good memories never made for salacious and ruinous gossip.

  A shadow crossed her face. “I…I loved him,” she said defiantly. “And there are days when I feel I still do.”

  He arched a brow. “It is usual for one to love their father. Mine was a reckless libertine, a wastrel, and yet, for years, I wanted to emulate him.” He’d never said that aloud to anyone in his life.

  The horses slowed to a more even canter and her thighs brushed against his as they rode with companionable ease. It was peaceful, and he was suddenly glad for her company. The last thing he desired in this moment was to be in his own head, imagining the varied ways he would gut his steward. Perhaps burying his body in an isolated cave, except surely his family would want his remains to bury.

  “My father taught me to ride, fish, swim, and the rudiments of fencing,” she finally said wistfully. “Papa never regretted that he did not have a son. He treated me like I was cherished, and I was allowed to run wild, though most of the neighbors complained. Of course, if I had been a boy, my behavior would not have been considered outrageous. He simply loved me for me.”

  “He sounds admirable.”

  She stiffened, pain darkening her pale catlike eyes. “He was…he was wonderful and a hero in my eyes, until…until he left us. The pain of his betrayal overshadowed everything else in our lives for months, years,” she said, her breath hitching on a soft sob.

  He nudged his horse even closer to hers. Her eyes were red, and if he was not mistaken, she was valiantly holding on to her tears. Regret soured his tongue. “Forgive my questions, Olivia, you do not have to speak of it. I can see it still pains you.”

  She tossed her head. “I am well. Now you tell me of your father.”

  It was his turn to be discomfited. “My father was jealous and obsessed with my mother.”

  He felt the caress of her gaze on his face, but he did not look at her. “He was?”

  “Yes.”

  His heart started to pound as the memories started to swirl.

  “What happened?” Olivia questioned softly.

  “Every man who admired Mother was a threat. Father would be wild with jealousy if another man dared to dance with her. I remember at my first ball, Father dragged her from the ballroom, out of Lord Gresham’s arms. She threw champagne in his face and he slung her over his shoulder. That scandal roared through the ton for weeks. Everywhere I went there was pointing and whispers.”

  She gasped. “I cannot credit it!”

  “I had known of my father’s temper and my mother’s fieriness, but I never knew society was also aware of their volatility.”

  “Is that why you are so…reserved with your feelings? You dread being similar?”

  He met her curious eyes then. “Yes,” he said, burying the darker part of his legacy behind a small smile. “I strive to not be as careless with my tempers.” If she only knew what he worked to bury. He glanced up at the swirling dark clouds. Rain was imminent. “We need to find shelter.”

  “Are we not close to the Rose Cottage?”

  “At least an hour’s hard ride.”

  “I can take a hard ride, Tobias.”

  The illicit images of giving his wife a very hard ride, and the brutal desires her words evoked, robbed him of breath.

  He cleared his throat. “We will not beat the rain. If my memory serves, there is an old hunting cottage a few minutes east of here.” He glanced around him. “Stay here, in the open plain. I will check to ensure there are no occupants.”

  “I shall follow you.”

  Exasperation rushed through him. “No. Anyone could be using the cottage as a refuge. It would be better if I am allowed to assume the risk to investigate.”

  “And I am safe here?” she demanded incredulously, her eyes sweeping the land far and wide.

  “Yes,” he said drily. “You can see if anyone approaches for miles out. Ride in my direction if you feel threatened.”

  She pouted but nodded in acquiescence. Stifling his grin, he urged his horse in the direction where he knew the cottage to be. A few minutes later, he broke through a thicket into a clearing. There were brambles and wild flowers on the forest floor and the place had an air of abandonment. He launched off the horse and allowed the reins to dangle. The trees there were so thick, the horses should have some relief from the icy rain that was about to come.

  He marched up the three steps leading to the cottage and tested the handle. It opened. Inside was empty but very dusty. It would have to do. A quick check showed there was a stockpile of logs and a lantern on the small wooden table beneath the window.

  Thunder rumbled, and Tobias moved with quick efficiency and in a short time had the lantern lit and the fireplace kindling. The fire would be roaring by the time he returned with Olivia. He went outside and whistled for his horse. He mounted and rode off back to where he left his wife. In the distance, he saw Arius unmounted. He slowed to a canter. Tobias stilled, certain he heard voices.

  “I will most certainly not allow you to search my person. I will not hesitate to box your ears,” a clipped voice said sternly.

  The woman sounded like his countess, but the idea was so ludicrous it did not bear contemplation. He had told her to wait while he investigated the cottage. Silently dismounting and lowering the reins, he slipped his hand inside his coat and gripped the curved handle of his dagger. Then he padded quietly toward the voice.

  A loud crack sounded, and he belatedly realized it was a slap from the curse spilling from the man.

  “Ouch, lass. Yer a strong one, mon.”

  “How dare you, sir. You touched my bosoms. I assure you, I have no hidden jewels in my décolletage, and when my husband, the Earl of Blade, hears about this, you will sorely regret it.”

  God’s blood.

  Tobias scrubbed a hand over his face in disbelief. Silly woman did not realize it was best to pretend to have no connections.

  “An earl, ye said?” the man asked speculatively.

  “Yes, and he has a fearsome and terrifying temper. I assure you, sir, he will be very displeased that you have accosted his countess.”

  Fearsome and terrifying temper? What had his wife heard about him? He assessed the robber, noting he was more a boy than a full-grown man. He appeared lean, of a similar height to Olivia, and had a cloth covering his face partially. Tobias knew better than to underestimate him because of his young years.

  The robber rubbed his chin. “Countess, ye say?”

  With a sigh, Tobias strolled forward from behind the trees. He was still at loss if he should be amused or infuriated. When she spied him, her eyes lighted with pleasure and relief. The daft woman had no notion of the depth of trouble she was in.

  “Oh, thank heavens, To
bias.”

  The robber spun around, his aim steady with the pistol pointing at Tobias. “You be the earl?”

  “I am,” he answered, standing so the dagger was held close to his sleeve.

  “A rich earl?”

  “Yes.”

  Delight widened the highwayman’s eyes, then they narrowed in suspicion. “Yer awfully accommodating, aren’t you?” he asked, taking a few steps back from Tobias and toward Olivia. He knew his size was not reassuring and the boy grew jittery after his thorough inspection of Tobias.

  “A bit.” He did not want to alarm the already nervous boy, because he might accidentally harm Olivia. The very idea of any injury befalling his reckless lady had a bitter taste filling his mouth. “I have several gold coins you may have. And a dagger. Its handle is encrusted with emeralds. Take them and leave.”

  The boy’s eyes narrowed in speculation and greed.

  Olivia gasped, and spluttered, fisting a hand on her hip. “And you call me reckless? Have you not read Samuel Johnson’s A Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland? It is never wise to travel with a fortune because of fellows like this,” she said, waving her hand toward the highwayman. “Also—”

  “Be quiet,” Tobias said.

  She glared at him but obeyed.

  “I may be wantin’ more than what ye offerin,” the boy said with a touch of uncertainty.

  “That is not possible.”

  The boy waved toward Olivia. “Or I may have to do something unpleasant to her,” he said, taking a threatening step in her direction.

  “That would not be wise,” Tobias said, going cold. The boy was now pointing the pistol in the direction of his countess. Why the hell had Tobias agreed to take her with him? Who the hell would have expected a bandit on this less traveled and remote country road?

  “Listen ’ere—”

  Tobias allowed his dagger to fly from his hand with precision. It buried itself in the boy’s arm, and with a bellow, he dropped the pistol. Before he could recover, Tobias was on him. He kicked his legs from underneath him, straddled him, and dragged off the makeshift mask.

  “Christ.”

  He couldn’t be more than fourteen summers.

  “Help me,” the boy pleaded toward Olivia.

  She swiftly ran over. Without Tobias saying anything, she grabbed the cloth the boy had used to cover his face and tied it around his wound. He wailed, his arm twitching.

  “Shut up,” Tobias growled.

  “There is a very large knife sticking out of his shoulder,” she said faintly. “And he is in pain, Tobias.”

  “He deserves to be in pain. He is very fortunate I did not kill him. In fact, I may very well slit his throat for inconveniencing me.”

  The boy wailed even louder.

  She shot him an irritated look. “Hush now,” she said sympathetically. “He does not mean it.”

  Tobias glared at her. “If you’d stayed where I told you, this would have been avoided.”

  “I was saving you,” she gasped.

  Anger and annoyance snapped through him in equal measure. “No, you were being reckless and rebellious!”

  Her eyes flashed. “I saw this…this…I have no clue what he is, creeping in the direction of where you headed and I decided to warn you. He looked very alarming with the cloth over his face and the pistol in his hand, I could not allow him to come upon you unaware. My only thoughts were of protecting you, Tobias! Not deliberately being willful and…reckless. Somehow he noticed me, and well, you know the rest.”

  Protecting me? Though his heart jerked at the notion, he was not mollified. The fear that had torn through his heart when he’d realized the bounder had a pistol pointed to her heart had been a brutal punch to his system. “He could have shot you…or done worse, countess. Abducted you, robbed and slit your throat before you could sound an alert. But I can see it was truly ridiculous of me to expect you to act in an obedient or ladylike manner.”

  It was never more evident to him that he could not truly rely on his wife to behave in the expected manner. Her temper was too uncertain, and she was too willful.

  She winced, and if he was not mistaken, hurt darkened her eyes.

  “I’m bleeding to death here,” the boy grumbled. “A wee bit of attention on me wouldn’t be bad.”

  Tobias hauled him up quite roughly, and the boy swayed.

  His wife scrambled to her feet. “What are you going to do with him?”

  “Take him to the law.”

  The boy paled, and his countess gasped.

  She touched his arms fleetingly, a frown on her face. “Tobias, he is just a boy.”

  “This boy had a pistol pointed at you a few minutes ago and threatened to shoot you.”

  “I dinna mean it, mon,” he said, staring at Tobias with wide eyes. “Surely I dinna mean it. She is a countess, I dinna want to be hanged, so I bluffed.”

  “See,” Olivia said eagerly. “He meant me—us—no harm. He was bluffing, weren’t you?” she said with a pointed glare.

  The boy nodded vigorously, clutching his arm.

  Tobias pushed him away and the boy stumbled. “Get out of here.”

  He turned and started scampering toward a small dappled horse.

  “Wait,” Olivia called out.

  “What in God’s name should he wait for?” Tobias snapped.

  She turned to him. “Will you still give him the coins? I am sure he would not have attempted a robbery if he was not in need.”

  After a gape of apparent disbelief, the boy nodded his agreement most ardently.

  Surely she was jesting. “He should be grateful I did not thrash him.”

  Disappointment flashed across her face. Tobias tipped his head to the sky and pinched the bridge of his nose. It confounded him that he wanted to please her when she had so disgruntled him with her willful ways. Stifling a sigh, he threw the small bag of gold he had to robber. The boy darted and grabbed it with speed. When he felt its weight, his eyes widened. “Thank ye, I willna forget yer kindness,” he muttered, then ran to his horse and rode away.

  Pleasure gleamed in his wife’s gaze. “Thank you, Tobias.”

  The sky chose that moment to open with biting cold rain. He whistled for the horses. “This way,” he yelled, grabbing his countess’s arm and running in the direction of the cottage. She ran beside him, surprisingly keeping pace. A few minutes later they broke through the thicket and the cottage came into view. As they scrambled up the step, Olivia slipped. With a grunt, he tried to prevent her fall, but failed miserably. He twisted, tumbling with her so that she landed on him with a soft oof against the forest floor.

  They scrambled to their feet and instead of dashing up the step and into the cottage, they stood in the rain, staring at each other. A wide grin stretched her beguiling mouth and it was a brilliant, dazzling smile. He was utterly perplexed what to do about the sensations winding through his heart. The damn organ jerked and a weak feeling suffused his pores. He was desperate to taste her again, to feel her wet, tight heat clamped on his cock. Damnation. That was an unfamiliar experience.

  Her grin stretched even wider and then a full-throated laugh escaped her. Tobias stared in bemusement, wondering why in this moment she looked so damned beautiful, so perfect. His wife. Her hair spilled in waves about her shoulders, and she had a few twigs perched atop her glorious mess.

  “Come on,” he muttered, grabbing her hand, “for if you fall ill and die, I’ll simply lay you to rest here in these woods.”

  They scrambled up the steps with care, her giggling the entire way and him thinking he was very glad indeed he had brought her with him.

  …

  Livvie was somewhat warm, startlingly aroused, and most contented. Heavy rain whipped against the grimy window. The cottage was very tiny, but so cozy and delightful. She was in her chemise only, as most of their clothes hung on the small grate by the fire drying.

  “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to live somewhere like this?”

  “
No.”

  She threw her husband a withering glare. “You are still being churlish because I tried to rescue you?”

  “What I should have done the minute we reached the cottage was turn you over my knees and tan your backside. It is evident you were in sore need of discipline growing up.”

  Instead, she was sitting in his lap because everywhere else was too dusty and they had dragged the one great chair close to the fireplace. She was most comfortably situated atop his very obvious reaction to her nearness. Her earl desired her. Livvie grinned and wiggled in his lap, and he cursed.

  “You little minx, you did that deliberately.”

  “I believe I did.”

  “You would not be so smug if I tossed up your skirt right here in this chair and took you, amongst the dust and all,” he growled.

  “Is that possible?”

  He stiffened.

  “You must show me, Tobias,” she purred, deliberately sliding her bottom against his arousal.

  His soft chuckle sounded strained. “No. The latch on the door is broken and we must be vigilant. I also promised myself the next time I seduced my wife, it would be in a bed.”

  She relaxed into him even more, soaking up the warmth from this body. She swore the heat from him was even more delicious than that coming from the fireplace. “Do you think the boy will return?”

  “If he is foolish, mayhap. But he should be contented with the gold I gave him. It was quite hefty.”

  “Thank you for being so kind.”

  He grunted.

  She smiled. “Is it not odd we are sitting here, me in your lap, and dare I say it, we are contented?”

  “I am still thinking of wringing your neck, Olivia,” he said, then pressed a soft kiss to the spot where he must have been imagining wrapping his fingers.

  She twisted and glared at him. He was smiling, and his relaxed charm drove the air from her lungs. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. With a sigh, she deepened the kiss and moaned when he responded. She withdrew and stared into his eyes, which glowed with unreserved passion. “Tobias?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I ache.”

  The tension in the room shot up perceptibly. “Do not tempt me, Olivia.”