Some Like It Wicked (Hellion's Den)

by Ivy, Alexandra

  It was far more than any woman could hope to have in a husband. Certainly it was more than she had ever dreamed possible.

  But yet she continued to waver.

  This was not just another business arrangement that could be sold off if it proved too costly, her common sense warned. This was her entire future, and the future of her children.

  At the moment Hellion could consider nothing beyond the thought that she could provide for him the lifestyle that he had grown accustomed to. And no doubt he had every intention of making her happy.

  But what would happen a year from now? Five years? Or ten?

  How long would it be before he became bored with his role as the doting husband? How long before he returned to London and the beautiful women who would toss themselves at his feet?

  How long before he broke her heart and she allowed herself to become one of those bitter old women who were a plague to their children?

  Of course, her heart continued to whisper, was she not destined to possess a broken heart regardless of what decision she made?

  She could no longer deny that she loved Hellion. Their afternoon at the posting inn had proved that beyond doubt. And the mere thought of giving herself to another man was enough to make her stomach clench in dread.

  What if she discovered she could not bear to wed another?

  What of her promise to her father? And her own need to have a family?

  Dear Lord, it was all such a tangle that it was no wonder her head ached and her eyes were scratchy from lack of sleep.

  Intent upon her survey of Hellion, Jane did not notice when her friend shifted to stand just behind her shoulder.

  “He is quite handsome,” Anna murmured directly in her ear.

  Smiling wryly, Jane did not even pretend she did not know to whom Anna referred.

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “And there is a rakish manner about him that makes a woman long to tame him.”

  “Definitely rakish.”

  “And any woman who managed to capture him would be forever the envy of society.”

  Jane’s smile widened. “She would be a near legend.”

  Anna gave a soft chuckle as she leaned even closer. “And of course, he is scoundrel enough to ensure that a woman would be well pleased in his bed. My God, the way he looks at you is positively wicked.”

  Jane abruptly turned her head in bewilderment. “What?”

  Anna waggled her brows in a ridiculous fashion. “He looks as if he longs to devour you.”

  “Anna,” Jane breathed, her cheeks warming with something that was suspiciously close to pleasure.

  Anna batted her arm with her ivory fan. “Do not pretend to be so shocked, Jane. When a lady is contemplating marriage there is nothing the matter with considering a gentleman’s more intimate skills. It would not be at all wise to wed a man who was incapable of pleasuring you.”

  All sorts of tantalizing shivers raced through Jane’s body. Pleasure, excitement, and a measure of wicked anticipation. The very last thing that she need worry about was Hellion’s ability to please, she acknowledged. If he pleased her any more she would soon be six feet under.

  “Pleasure is all well and good. Well, perhaps better than good,” she murmured, her gaze covertly straying back to the man who had taught her the meaning of passion. “Still, it is not the most important thing.”

  “And what is that?”

  Jane considered a moment before giving a small shrug. “Contentment. Respect. Friendship. Mutual affection.”

  Anna gave a choked laugh. “Ah well, as long as you are not overly particular.”

  “You did ask.”

  “What happened to the desperate spinster who was determined to wed the first decent gentleman who offered?”

  Jane smiled wryly. “She has discovered that a decent gentleman is considerably less dangerous than one who can break your heart.”

  She felt Anna stiffen in shock. “Jane?”

  Cursing herself for allowing the unguarded words to slip past her lips Jane gave a sharp shake of her head. As much as she cared for her dear friend she was not yet prepared to discuss her feelings for Hellion. Not when she had yet to decide what she was to do about them.

  “Excuse me, Anna, I must find the withdrawing room.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  From the diary of Miss Jane Middleton, May 24th, 1814:

  Dear Diary,

  I have discovered that being a woman of logic is a bothersome thing.

  If I were a silly romantic or simply still naïve enough to believe that love could cure any troubles then I would not be so plagued with indecision. Indeed, I would be anxious to toss my heart at any scoundrel’s feet and assume that the future would take care of itself.

  Unfortunately, I am incapable of such blithe dreams.

  My heart might whisper that true happiness is within my grasp, but my common sense refuses to ignore the unmistakable warnings.

  Can a rake and rogue truly be domesticated?

  Or is he like any wild beast who will eventually grow to hate his prison and more so the spinster who put the chains upon him?

  Hellion was aware the moment Jane entered the room.

  Bloody hell, who was he fooling, he wryly conceded. He was aware of the smoky heat of the room. And the fact that the champagne had been unpleasantly watered. He was aware his boots were beginning to show a hint of wear and that Lady Grantwood had just grabbed his backside as she passed behind him.

  But with Jane it was far more than simple awareness.

  The moment she had stepped through the door his entire body had tingled with a charged excitement, as if he were standing in the midst of a thunderstorm. And even more unnerving was the sense he could actually feel her presence. Every blink of her lashes, her every breath, every beat of her heart. As if they were a part of one another.

  Ridiculous, of course. Unless Jane had indeed driven him to madness.

  Resisting the urge to thrust his way through the crowd and sweep her into his arms, Hellion instead continued his amusing story for the crowd of young bucks who had gathered about him. Over the past three days he had played a cautious game with Jane, knowing that to press her in any manner might be fatal. Instead he had remained close enough for her to know he was near but never directly approaching her.

  Biddles assured him that such a tactic was bound to succeed where outright pursuit would fail. Jane was a woman who preferred to feel she was in control of every situation, he had warned Hellion. Even when it came to matters of the heart. It would be best to allow her to decide when she was prepared to speak of their inevitable future together.

  A wise scheme no doubt, but Hellion could not deny that he was growing impatient with the plan.

  Dammit all, surely he had waited long enough?

  What if she were actually awaiting him to approach her? What if she were still shy of their passion and felt too awkward to seek him out?

  What if . . .

  Abruptly Hellion stiffened as he watched Jane hurry away from her friend toward the nearby door. Even though a hundred guests separated them he could tell that something was the matter.

  It was in the stiff set of her shoulders and the manner in which she kept her head turned as if she were hiding the urge to cry.

  He did not even hesitate as he offered a hasty bow and pressed his way through the group of dandies. He took no note of their demands that he finish his rather highly embroidered tale, or even of Lady Grantwood, who attempted to block his path with her well-endowed form.

  Enough. He was done with waiting. If Jane were upset, or even if she were not, he wanted to be with her.

  Battling his way through the surging crowd Hellion at last slipped out of the ballroom and entered the darkened hall. It was too late, however, to catch Jane before she slipped out of sight.

  Hesitating in the shadows Hellion was reluctant to return to the ballroom. He had come this far. He could not bear to allow another night to pass without speaking wit
h Jane. Without hearing her voice. Without catching a whiff of her spring scent. Without tasting of her lips . . .

  His expression hardened as he pushed open the door to an empty study and slipped into the dark silence. She had to return to the ballroom eventually. He would be waiting for her.

  It took less than a quarter of an hour before he heard the rustle of silk and caught that light, tantalizing aroma that could only belong to Jane.

  With a motion too swift to alert his approaching prey he reached out and grasped her by the arm. Then with a sharp tug he had her in the room and was closing the door.

  He heard her give a small gasp before her eyes adjusted enough to recognize her captor.

  “Hellion.”

  Stepping close enough to be enveloped in her warmth, Hellion placed his hands upon her shoulders.

  “Ssh. We do not wish to attract unwanted attention,” he murmured.

  He thought a faint shiver raced through her body at his touch, but her voice was steady.

  “Whatever are you doing?”

  “You seemed upset when you left the ballroom. I was concerned.”

  “I . . . what made you think that I was upset?”

  It had been a mistake to bring her into this dark, isolated room, Hellion acknowledged too late. Already his blood was warming and his thoughts were turning in directions that were distinctly dangerous.

  Far better to have remained in the hall where the chance of being seen would have at least tempered his surge of awareness.

  “I know you well enough to sense when something is troubling you.” Of their own will his fingers lightly skated over the satin skin of her neck. “Tell me what it is.”

  “There is nothing.” Her breath caught as his fingers moved to trace the modest line of her bodice. “Good heavens, Hellion, you must halt that.”

  He smiled ruefully. She was still clearly naïve when it came to gentlemen. At the moment he could more easily halt his heart from beating than to keep his greedy touch from worshipping the ivory heat of her body.

  “Must I?” he husked, bending down to stroke his cheek over her scented curls. “This is what I desired to do for the past three days. You cannot know how difficult it has been to keep myself from charging across the room this evening and tossing you over my shoulder.”

  In the tumble of moonlight that was muted by the inevitable fog, her features were softened and shrouded with mystery.

  “Do you make a habit of tossing women over your shoulder?”

  “I have never before desired to,” he retorted with perfect honesty. “You, Miss Middleton, have stirred to life demons within me that I did not even know I possessed.”

  “That sounds distinctly uncomfortable.”

  He offered a humorless laugh. “You can have no notion.”

  There was a short pause before she heaved a sigh. “Actually, I believe I might have a very good notion.”

  Hellion gritted his teeth at the unexpected confession. Oh yes, this had all been a terrible mistake, he grimly acknowledged. He was already hot and randy just having her near. To actually have her confess her own needs was like tossing a match onto dry kindling.

  Growing uncomfortably hard, he barely resisted the urge to tug her against his aching erection.

  “Good Lord, do not say such things, my sweet,” he groaned, a sweat breaking out on his forehead. “I brought you in here so that we can have a moment alone to speak. A remarkably difficult task when you are so near.”

  If she had possessed the slightest sense of self-preservation she would have stomped upon his toes, or better yet, thrust her knee where no knee should be thrust.

  Obviously, however, she was currently plagued with the same reckless need and just as incapable of summoning the least amount of common sense, he decided as her hands crept upward to stroke over his chest.

  “I suppose I could stand across the room if you prefer,” she offered in a breathless voice.

  Allowing his arms to slip about her slender form Hellion discovered his head lowering so that he could softly nibble at the lobe of her ear.

  “That might be for the best,” he conceded.

  She shivered as she arched against his straining muscles. “Or I could go to the gardens and you could shout down at me from the window.”

  He trailed his lips down the curve of her neck, savoring the taste of her as he reached the curve of her breast.

  “Far more sensible,” he muttered. “Although much less pleasurable.”

  She sucked in a shaky breath. “There is that.”

  Reaching the barrier of her silk bodice Hellion impatiently tugged at the devil-spawned sleeve to allow him greater access. Damn and blast, it was a sin against nature the manner in which women draped themselves in endless layers of foolishness. How the hell was a gentleman to properly seduce them when he was battling against silk and linen and ribbons and any other number of falderals?

  “And in truth, whenever I seek to talk with you I always manage to make a muck of it,” he confessed, at last able to hone in on a hardened nipple.

  With a low moan Jane roughly rammed her fingers into his hair, eagerly encouraging his moist caress.

  “True,” she breathed.

  Hellion gave a low chuckle as he gave a tug on the nipple. “You did not have to agree with such enthusiasm.”

  Determinedly guiding him to her other breast Jane moaned in pleasure.

  “It does not matter,” she assured him. “At the moment I have no wish to speak.”

  “Thank God.” With one fluid motion he pressed himself against the wall, reaching out to slip the bolt on the lock. “I can think of much better ways to employ those maddening lips of yours.”

  Not even bothering to hide his hunger he took her lips in a devouring kiss, his hands cupping her breasts to rub his thumbs over her aching tips. Her arms encircled his neck, her nails biting into his nape with an unabashed need. A searing jolt of excitement nearly sent him to his knees. It seemed like weeks, months even since he had held her in his arms, and his jaded senses were shocked by the fierce desire that clutched at his stomach.

  Dear God, he wanted her. Every last satin curve of her.

  “Hellion . . .” she whispered, pressing even closer.

  Across the darkened room was a convenient sofa, but Hellion was far too impatient to seek the relative comfort. Instead his hands reached down to grasp the skirts of her gown and slide them upward.

  “I need you, Jane,” he muttered, at last discovering the warm skin of thighs. “I need you now.”

  She gave a small gasp as his fingers explored ever higher, at last reaching the sensitive cleft that was already damp. Her nails nearly drew blood as he slid a finger deep within her, using his thumb to stroke her point of pleasure.

  “Yes,” she husked, her hips moving in concert with his slow strokes. “Oh lord, I did not know . . .”

  Hellion gave a rasping groan, shifting so that he could hastily unfasten his breeches. His smooth expertise was distinctly absent as his fingers trembled and he nearly pulled off the buttons before he at last managed to tug them open.

  Hellfire, this was not at all like him. Seducing young women during the midst of a ball. Panting and fumbling about as if he were a raw greenhorn rather than a seasoned rake. Feeling as if he might burst any moment.

  His fully aroused shaft sprang free and he shifted his hand to the back of her thigh to pull her leg over his own. Astonishingly, however, he felt her stiffen as if not yet prepared for his entry.

  “Jane?” he whispered in a tortured voice, unable to believe she would halt him at this late stage.

  Pulling back she met his gaze in the muted shadows. “I want to touch you,” she murmured.

  Hellion sucked in a sharp breath at her hesitant request. Oh yes. To have her touch him would be a fantasy come true. If only he could bear it without embarrassing himself utterly.

  “Allow me,” he rasped, reaching up to take her hand and lower it to his straining manhood.

/>   With his gentle direction her fingers closed about him, at first so tentative that his hips instinctively thrust forward to plead for more. Then, as if sensing her feminine power she began to explore with greater enthusiasm, stroking him from the very root to the tip.

  Hellion battled back a primal growl as a flood of exquisite pleasure raced through his body. Ah . . . it was paradise. Flopping back against the wall he allowed her to work her magic, grimly battling back the rising orgasm. He wanted this to last an eternity. Or until his knees buckled with unbearable delight.

  Clearly curious Jane explored him thoroughly, tracing the throbbing veins and cupping him with a tender squeeze. Hellion gave a low cry of joy as he reached out his hands to grasp her face and pulled her close for a ravaging kiss.

  “No more,” he muttered against her lips. “I want to be in you.”

  “Yes.”

  Her whisper barely stirred the thick air but it was enough for Hellion to grasp her hips and tug her off the floor. Holding her against his chest he positioned her above his shaft and slowly slid her down, the tight heat sheathing about him.

  “Dear God, Jane,” he moaned, his hips already thrusting as he struggled for control. “I cannot be gentle.”

  Her breath was coming in short bursts as she pressed her lips to his jaw. “Just do not stop,” she commanded.

  As if he could, Hellion wryly conceded, his fingers digging into her hips as her legs wrapped about him. He could as easily stab a dagger in his heart as to halt the fierce thrusts deep within her.

  Clenching his jaw he listened carefully to her soft moans, determined to await her pleasure before giving release to his building climax. Her legs tightened about him, allowing him to sink ever deeper. He increased his pace, his hips rolling upward. A keening cry was wrenched from Jane’s throat as she shook with her fierce release and her teeth shockingly sank into his throat.

  Feeling himself clenched by her contractions Hellion gave a low shout of triumph, his thrusts becoming frenzied as his climax hit him with stunning force. Pumping his seed inside her, he was struck by the notion that they might very well be creating a child during this erotic interlude.