If He’s Wild

by Howell, Hannah

  All thought of Modred fled Hartley’s mind as he entered the bedchamber where his wife waited for him. The scent of wildflowers and expensive spices filled the air. He looked around at the flowers and candles crowding the room and then looked at Alethea. She sat cross-legged on their bed, wearing what he supposed was a robe although it certainly provided no warmth or modesty. He could see her nipples through the lacy bodice, and his body immediately hardened in response. The sight of her glorious hair hanging down to her waist, its thick waves struggling to hide all that the robe displayed, only added to his hunger for her.

  “This took planning,” he said as he walked to the side of the bed after firmly latching the door behind him.

  “Some,” she replied. “Not very much, though.”

  “You asked Argus to send me home.” His guess was confirmed by the way she blushed, and he sighed dramatically. “Am I doomed to be under the cat’s paw, then?”

  Her fear that he was angry about her interference fled, washed away by his jesting manner, and she laughed. “I just asked for one night, reminding Argus that we are newlyweds.”

  “It did not work for me when I tried it.”

  “Ah, but you are not the poor neglected wife who is also your cousin.”

  “Wretch.” He reached out to stroke her hair. “And so you plotted a seduction, did you?”

  “I tried.”

  “You did very well. Of course, it is unnecessary. You have but to smile at me, and I am thoroughly seduced.”

  “Oh.” Alethea fought back the urge to clasp her hands and sigh over the fulsome compliment. “You are too kind.” She inwardly winced over saying something so mealy-mouthed.

  Hartley kissed her forehead as he continued to stroke her hair. His wife, he realized, was not certain of his desire for her. She was uncertain about her attraction for any man, and he suspected that was the fault of her late, unlamented husband. He had every intention of leaving her with no doubts about either by the time they collapsed in a sweaty heap of sated exhaustion. It was his duty as her husband, he thought with a grin against her hair as he nuzzled his face in the thick, silken feel of it.

  It was going to be difficult to go slowly. His hunger for her was still too new, too strong, and their times together still too few to have tamed it a little. Hartley was determined, however, to make love to her slowly, to show her with his hands, his lips, and his body, that there was more than passion between them.

  He stepped back and undid his robe, letting it slide to the floor. The way she looked him over, her eyes wide with appreciation, could easily make him a very vain man. Then she slowly licked her lips, and his belly clenched with want.

  In the hope of keeping himself from tossing her onto her back and leaping on her like some untried youth, Hartley began to slowly untie the ribbons holding her delightful excuse for a robe together. He watched as her breathing increased with each patch of her lovely skin he exposed to his eager eyes. The way their hunger matched was an aphrodisiac. He had bedded some very beautiful women but never before had the simple act of getting naked stirred him so deeply. It had mostly been a means to an end.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered as he bent forward to kiss the hard tip of one breast.

  Alethea shivered and closed her eyes as pleasure swept over her. When Hartley picked her up and laid her on the bed, she opened her arms to welcome him. The moment he took to completely remove her robe was too long, and she sighed with satisfaction when his body finally settled on top of hers. She did not think there could be anything that felt as good as his skin touching hers.

  He kissed her, and she wrapped her body around him as their tongues danced with each other. The sweet clouds of desire quickly swept over her mind, and she shifted against him in silent demand. Hartley’s hand on her hip stopped her, and she murmured a protest.

  “You will not hurry me tonight, love,” he said. “I plan to savor you.” He kissed his way to her breasts. “Every delicious inch of you.”

  He held true to his word, and by the time he had finished feasting upon her breasts, she was panting. Instead of answering her need, however, he began to kiss his way down her body, until he was warming her stomach with the soft heat of his mouth. When he slid his hand between her legs, Alethea did not even flinch. She opened to his caress and could not stop the soft cries and moans of pleasure that escaped her as he teased her desire to greater heights with his stroking fingers. It was not until she felt the heat of his mouth touch where his fingers had just been that she suffered any check in her rising need.

  “Hartley?” She was not surprised that she squeaked out his name, for she was shocked by such an intimacy.

  “Hush, love.” He nipped her inner thighs when she tried to press her legs together and then soothed the pinch with slow strokes of his tongue. “Be still and enjoy.”

  Alethea was not certain how anyone could enjoy something so scandalously intimate. That thought had barely passed through her mind when her desire began to return in a heated rush. She quickly forgot her embarrassment and unease and reveled in the feelings his intimate kisses brought her. When her need for him was a tight knot low in her belly, she cried out for him, pulled at his hair to try and bring him back into her arms, but he ignored her, pushing her hands aside. With strokes of his tongue he took her over the edge of desire’s precipice.

  She had barely begun to return to her senses when he started to do it all over again. The next time she cried out for him to join her, he was there, uniting their bodies in one swift, strong thrust. Alethea clung to him as he drove them to their shared release with a fierce determination. She could hear her name upon his lips even as she sank into the deep well of bliss only he could bring her.

  Hartley was climbing back into bed after washing them both clean before Alethea came back to her senses. Her cheeks stung with a deep blush as she recalled all he had done to her.

  That color faded when he grinned at her as he pulled her into his arms.

  “Do not fret over the right or wrong of what we share, Alethea,” he said and kissed the top of her head.

  “Easy for you to say,” she muttered against his chest.

  “And easy for you to do.” He caught her chin in his hand and turned her face up to his. “You are beautiful all over, and I mean to savor that beauty as often as I can.” He kissed her cheek, almost able to feel the heat of the renewed blush there. “Speak true—can you say you did not enjoy yourself?”

  “I do not think you even need to ask that. I am surprised we do not have people knocking at the door, wondering what I was shouting about.” She smiled when he laughed, and the last of her embarrassment faded away.

  Alethea snuggled close to him, enjoying the way his warmth and strength flowed into her. They would soon be back to his hunting down Claudette until dawn and her sleeping alone. She did not want to waste a moment of this time they had together. She did not even want to think of Claudette, spies, murders, and intrigue but did have one question no one had yet answered to her satisfaction.

  “Why did Margarite wait so long to flee?” she asked. “Do you think she was hoping all blame and punishment would fall on her sister?”

  “No, I think she thought she could ride out the storm and even be a shelter for Claudette. In truth, nothing happened to make her flee. We were watching her. She was beginning to suffer the same cold shoulder Claudette was, but it was Claudette we were chasing. Margarite did not invite as many important men to her bed, and the ones we talked to did not believe she had any aspirations to be a spy for her sister. Argus just thinks she was very poor at it, that the riches a lover could give her were of more interest than what he may or may not know.” He gently massaged her shoulders. “We will get them. Claudette might be the worst of the pair, but Margarite is far from innocent.”

  Alethea nodded, her cheek rubbing against the warm, taut skin of his chest. She suddenly thought about that scandalous thing he had done to her. If he truly believed there was nothing to be shamed of for e
njoying that, then why would he not enjoy the same thing? She glanced down at his manhood, which rested peacefully in its nest of curls between his strong thighs. Just seeing it erect and boldly signaling Hartley’s desire for her always made her blood heat. It would not be so difficult to pay it homage. But could she be so bold? After a moment of thought on the matter, she decided she certainly could be, and she pushed aside her fear of disgusting him with that boldness.

  She kissed his chest, inhaling the crisp, warm scent of his skin. This is going to be fun, she thought as she reached down to caress his strong, lightly haired thighs. She gave him an opened-mouth kiss on his taut stomach, and out of the corner of her eye watched his manhood twitch and then begin to grow. A sense of feminine power crept over her, and she slowly curled one hand around that rapidly growing manhood, enjoying the hard, silken feel of it. He groaned, and she grinned against the light line of hair low on his stomach. Suddenly being bold no longer worried her. Alethea slid just a little bit lower and ever so slowly ran her tongue up his length.

  Hartley was enjoying just lying in bed with his naked wife in his arms, recovering his strength for a second bout of lovemaking. Then he felt her open mouth on his chest and her soft hands lightly stroking his ribs. He opened one eye and watched her dark head inch down toward his stomach. His heart beat fast with the hope that she was about to do what he so wanted her to do. He could feel himself grow hard. When she curled her fingers around his erection, he could not fully repress a groan.

  He buried his fingers in her hair and wondered if he should attempt to nudge her along, silently direct her in giving him what he now craved. Just as he was about to try and hoping that would not scare her into stopping, she ran her hot little tongue up his length, and he shuddered from the pleasure of it. He opened his other eye, not wanting to miss anything. When, at the silent urging he made with a move of his hips, she took him into her mouth, he knew he was going to need a lot of strength to gain the control to enjoy such a pleasure for a long time.

  The moment he felt his release tightening his body, he grabbed her under the arms and pulled her up his body. Hartley sat her on him, and, to his relief, since he did not think he could form a coherent word, she joined their bodies with only a slight awkwardness. Hands on her hips, he urged her on until they both cried out and shook from the force of the pleasure that tore through their bodies. He caught her as she collapsed in his arms and struggled to catch his breath.

  “I think you had already read that book when we all discovered you with it,” he said, not surprised to hear a breathlessness still lingering in his voice, and then he grinned, for he could feel the heat of her blush warming his chest.

  “I may have peeked at a few pages,” she admitted. “Mostly I followed the rule that says what is sauce for the gander is sauce for the goose.”

  “Is that not t’other way round?”

  “Not this time.”

  “I think we are going to have to bring that book up here and study it together.”

  “Later.” She yawned. “You have worn me out.”

  He laughed and kissed the top of her head. That book was definitely going to be brought into their bedchamber. Now that he knew he had a passionate and adventurous wife, he intended to take full advantage of it.

  Chapter 16

  Hartley looked at the note Cobb had just given him and then looked back at his bed. Alethea was curled up facing him, her luxurious hair a wild tangle around her face and blanket-shrouded body. One small hand rested on the spot he had lain in just moments ago. He desperately wanted to be lying there again. Duty calls, he sternly reminded himself. Hartley did wonder why duty always seemed to call in the middle of the night or at the crack of dawn.

  He strode into his dressing room, where Dennison was already setting out the bowl of hot water for him to wash in. In a very short time he was ready to answer Argus’s summons. He paused and then went to the small desk in the far corner of his bedchamber. Idly thinking on how he was going to move his wife into his bed, he wrote Alethea a short note explaining his absence. Leaving that and the note from Argus with Dennison with strict instructions to give them to Alethea as soon as she rose, he headed out to his meeting.

  A grimace twisted his mouth as he stepped out into the dim light of predawn, waving off a sleepy Cobb’s offer to rouse someone to bring his horse around. This was not how he had planned to spend his morning. After an appropriate amount of rest following their last bout of lovemaking, he had intended to show his wife that the best way to greet the sun was with him buried deep inside her. His body began to harden at the thought of that pleasure.

  An odd scraping noise broke into his thoughts of all the ways he could convince Alethea that morning was one of the best times to make love. Hartley began to spin around, but, even as he shifted on his feet, he knew he was too late. Something slammed into his head, and the pain brought him to his knees. A second blow robbed him of all ability to halt the darkness washing over him. His last clear thought was to pray that Alethea was safe.

  “Hartley!”

  Alethea bolted upright in her bed, her heart pounding and her body trembling. The cool morning air rapidly dried the sweat of fear on her body and made her tremble even more. The echo of her scream was still ringing in her ears. She was just looking around for something to put on so that she could go find Hartley, when Olympia burst into her bedchamber. Alethea hoped she did not look as wild-eyed as her cousin, who had obviously just leapt out of bed, thrown on a robe, and then rushed to her side. She suspected she did, and then heartily wished she could find a robe as easily as Olympia had.

  “Hartley is in danger,” Alethea said before Olympia could speak. Yanking the blanket loose of the bed so that she could keep it wrapped around her, Alethea got out of bed. “I need to find him.”

  “Not wrapped in a blanket,” said Olympia, her voice uneven and still a little hoarse from being yanked out of a sound sleep. “Get dressed, or at least find a modest robe, and I will go have a look for him.”

  Alethea washed hastily and threw on a simple gown. She detested the time it took but knew that Hartley would not appreciate her racing through the house wearing nothing but a blanket. Just as she started out of the room, a now-dressed Olympia ran back in, Modred, Dennison, and Cobb right behind her. The looks on all their faces froze Alethea in midstep, her blood turning to ice as fear raced through her. She stared blindly at the two bits of paper Olympia held out to her.

  “Put your fear away, Alethea,” snapped Olympia. “It will help no one.”

  “And your walls are cracking,” said Modred, giving her a faint smile.

  It took a great deal of effort to continue—Olympia’s sharp words and Modred’s mere presence were highly unsettling—but Alethea regained her senses and took the notes. One was from Hartley explaining how duty called. She blushed a little at his not so subtle reference to what he would prefer to be doing as the sun rose. Then she looked at the note Hartley said was from Argus. Even before the vision swept over her, she knew her cousin had not written the note. Argus never stank of roses.

  A dainty white hand weighted down with ornate rings. Anger. Hatred. A mindless need to get revenge. The shadowed walk from the house to the stables. Menace. Alarm and then pain. Please let Alethea be safe.

  Olympia was right there to steady her as Alethea was thrust back into the here and now. She leaned against her cousin, fighting the compulsion to find her sketchbook, and looked at the two servants. The urge to fall to her knees and weep was strong, but Alethea conquered it. She needed to do everything she could to get Hartley out of the hands of their enemies and back home safely. Only then would she allow her emotions to run free.

  “Someone needs to get Argus, Iago, Aldus, and Gifford here immediately,” she said, pleased by the firm tone of her voice. “Tell them it is an emergency. Claudette has Hartley. Someone snatched him away as he went to the stables this morning.” She nodded in satisfaction as the butler and the valet rapidly left to follow h
er command.

  “Are you certain?” asked Olympia. “I saw only an attack, danger.” She looked at the note from Argus. “Touching an object gives me little, but if we take the walk to the stables, I can help to see what happened.”

  “Best we wait for that until Argus gets here. He will want to know, too, and there is no need to do it twice.” Alethea swallowed hard. “She is going to hurt him. This is my vision, the one that brought me here. She is going to hurt him and then kill him.”

  “You must not think the worst. It will weaken you, and you need to be strong now. And, remember, you were not a part of that vision, were you? You have already changed fate by coming here, helping him, and marrying him.”

  Alethea was about to argue that opinion, when she suddenly recalled a part of her vision that had already been changed. That knowledge offered only a thin strand of hope, but she grabbed it and held on tight. The vision had already changed once. It could do so again.

  “Yes, you are right. That vision has changed, in more ways than you have listed. Hartley never went to Claudette’s bed. In the vision, I saw him leaving her house, and it was very clear what he had been doing while he was in there. That never happened, either. He halted the seduction game before it could. Oh, and that was when he was taken. Just outside her house, and so that, too, has changed.”

  “You see now, do you not? What you saw in the beginning is not set in stone. And no one knew he was taken then, is that not correct?” Alethea nodded, and Olympia continued, “Yet another change in the vision. We know he was taken, and I do not believe he has been gone very long at all.”

  Alethea tried to recall the dream that had awakened her and then slowly nodded. “No, he has not. I felt the pain he suffered. He was struck down from behind. Two blows. And I immediately woke up.”