Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘I will not.’

  ‘Then tell me where you go almost every morning, when you drive out of Bath in your carriage—and pray do not try to fob me off, I have seen you.’

  ‘Very well, I will say nothing then.’

  ‘You are an extremely obstinate woman, Miss Prentess.’

  ‘And you are a fool,’ she retorted. ‘I told you at the outset I had no designs upon your cousin. Gerald has come to terms with that, so why cannot you?’

  ‘You make use of him unmercifully.’

  ‘He is happy to be of assistance to me.’

  ‘You sent him off on an errand—’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Where did he go?’

  ‘That is none of your business.’ She waved her hand. ‘I doubt you would approve, if you knew.’

  ‘But it might have stopped me from going to these extraordinary measures to prevent your liaison.’

  His retort merely made her shake her head at him, smiling.

  ‘You have led yourself a merry dance, have you not, my lord?’

  He sat down beside her.

  ‘It seems I have been well and truly bamboozled.’

  He looked at her and his lips twitched. The corners of his mouth turned up. Susannah stifled a giggle, he tried not to chuckle, but the next moment both of them were laughing so hard they could not sit upright, but leaned against each other, helpless with mirth. He put his arm around her to support them and, still giggling, she turned towards him.

  The laughter died away, but Susannah found she was still smiling, still looking into those dark, dark eyes that held nothing now but warmth and good humour. Without thinking she put up her hand to cup his cheek.

  ‘How foolish you were to doubt me,’ she whispered.

  He turned his head to press a kiss into the palm of her hand and as he did so his arms slid around her. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to look up a little more, to invite his kiss and when his lips met hers it was as if the whole world relaxed with a sigh. She leaned into him, her lips parting under the soft pressure of his mouth. His tongue dipped into her, drawing on the ache that reached right through her body, down to her groin.

  She wound her arms around him and kissed him back, tangling her tongue with his, pressing herself closer. Every inch of her skin was alive to the feel of his hands through the thin layers of her gown. When he stopped kissing her and slid one hand beneath her knees, lifting her effortlessly into his arms, she did not protest, but pressed her face against his neck, breathing in that faint, familiar scent she had come to associate with him and planting gentle kisses on the pulse beating beneath his skin.

  He carried her through to the bedroom. A fire burned in the hearth, and candles flickered in the wall sconces, giving the room a warm, welcoming glow. He did not pause but made straight for the bed where he laid her on the covers. Her arms were still around his neck and she drew him to her, impatient to feel his mouth on hers again. He obliged, covering her mouth as he stretched out beside her, measuring her length with his body, arousing in her feelings she could not control.

  She was almost swooning, transported to another world by the sensations he was creating in her. He had removed her ruff and was now kissing her throat, his hands unfastening the drawstring on her bodice so that he could caress her breasts. They were taut and hard, pressing against his questing fingers and when he began to circle one tender nub with his thumb she groaned aloud, her head going back as the pleasure of it surged through her whole body.

  Susannah reached out for him. She did not know when he had cast off his jacket and waistcoat, but there was only the thin linen shirt between her hands and his flesh. She could feel the hard outline of his back, the contours of his shoulders, his spine. It was all so new, so exhilarating. She gasped as his mouth replaced the thumb at her breast and her body responded, softening, the very bones liquefying. His hand smoothed over her silken skirts, pushing them aside to stroke her thigh. She was drowning in the pleasure of him, opening, turning towards his questing fingers, inviting him to go further, to explore her fully.

  Susannah moved sensuously against the covers. She had not known it could be so wondrous, this attraction between a man and a woman. That she could feel so alive, so at one with another person. Was it always like this? Was this how it had been for...

  Memories and cold fear returned.

  ‘No.’ She was seized by panic and tried to push him off. ‘No, please. Please, don’t do this.’

  Immediately he stopped and drew away. Instead of relief she felt merely chilled and bereft.

  ‘Susannah? What is it, my dear, what is wrong?’

  She rolled away from him and scrabbled to sit up, hugging herself.

  ‘I never meant— I should never— I am so ashamed.’ She buried her face in her hands as hot tears burned her cheeks. Trembling, she waited for him to curse her roughly for her wanton behaviour, to swear, maybe even to lash out at her.

  After a deathly silence broken only by her muffled sobs she felt his hand on her shoulder. A light touch. Soothing, not threatening.

  ‘I beg your pardon, Susannah. This is all my fault. I never intended... Oh, hell and damnation, what a coil!’

  His gentleness made her cry even harder. He shifted until he was sitting beside her and gently pulled her against him.

  ‘I promised you I would do nothing without your consent, my dear. If I misunderstood—’

  She shook her head, unable to speak, unable to tell him how much she had wanted, relished every touch, every caress.

  ‘I must go—’

  He held her tighter.

  ‘No, not yet. It is not yet midnight, there are too many people abroad. Someone might recognise you.’

  ‘Then what shall I do?’

  ‘You must stay here until dawn and I will find you a chair.’

  ‘I cannot stay here, with you.’

  ‘To leave my chambers now would be to risk being seen. You would be ruined.’ He exhaled, a long, drawn-out sigh. ‘I think I have misjudged you. We must talk.’

  ‘No, not yet.’ She held her head in her hands. ‘I feel so tired.’

  He pulled her unresisting on to the bed.

  ‘Then lie here and sleep.’ He added quickly, ‘You will be perfectly safe. I promise I shall not molest you again. The bed is wide enough for us both to lie on it without touching.’

  Susannah turned away from him and curled herself into a ball. Molest her? He had not molested her. He had awoken her to the delights of her own body. He had seduced her and she had succumbed most willingly. Oh heavens, she was no different from those poor unfortunate girls at Florence House. They too had been seduced by fine words and soft caresses, before they had been abandoned. How could she have been so weak? No wonder young ladies required a chaperon to be with them constantly. She had not known how it could feel, had not realised how wayward her own body could be. She thought of the man lying beside her. There was no doubt he was kind and gentle, but it made him no less a seducer.

  She felt the bed move as he slid off it, heard him pad across the room. A moment later there was the soft click as the key turned in the lock. Her worst fears were realised. She was his prisoner. Hot tears pressed against her eyes. It was clear now that his gentle assurances were worthless. He had not kissed her because he wanted to, because he was attracted to her. It was a cold plan devised to protect his cousin. The tears spilled over, burning her cheeks. What a fool she was.

  * * *

  Jasper came back to the bed and lay down again, keeping very still. He listened to the quiet snuffling beside him. Sympathy put his desire to flight. And he had desired her, so much so that he had forgotten his planned seduction, forgotten all about Gerald Barnabus. When he had taken Susannah in his arms he had thought only of possessing her fully, wholly, for himself. Her distress made him realise that somehow he had got it badly wrong. Whatever secrets she had they did not involve marriage to his cousin, he would stake his life on that now.


  When she was calmer he would talk to her, assure her that if there was the faintest hint of scandal resulting from this evening then he would do the honourable thing and marry her. But that would come later. For now she needed to sleep, as did he. At least, having locked the door, there was no danger that they would be discovered in this compromising situation by some over-zealous chambermaid coming in early to light the fire.

  He dozed, his dreams filled with images of Susannah. He was even aware of the faint trace of flowery perfume he had noticed on her skin when they had kissed. In his dreams she was standing beside him and he reached for her. He sighed when she caught his hands and held them. The fog of sleep lifted and he realised that Susannah really was standing beside the bed, but she wasn’t holding his hands, she was binding them together.

  ‘What the—?’

  ‘Please do not struggle, my lord, that will only make the bonds tighter.’

  He blinked away the final remnants of his dream. She had used the silk cord from her gown to bind his hands together and had tied the cord around the bedpost. He tried to sit up, but his arms were yanked awkwardly towards the post and he collapsed back again.

  ‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’

  ‘I am leaving, and I am making sure you cannot prevent me.’ She watched him tug hard against his bonds. ‘It is silk, you know, and incredibly strong. I doubt you will break it.’

  ‘There is no need for this. I told you I would not stop you.’

  ‘You also told me you would not touch me,’ she retorted.

  The candles were guttering in their sockets but there was still sufficient light to see that she looked incredibly desirable with her flushed cheeks and those golden curls in disarray.

  ‘Susannah—’

  ‘Miss Prentess to you.’

  ‘You cannot leave.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I can.’ She picked up the key. ‘You should have hidden this, my lord, if you really wanted to keep me your prisoner.’

  ‘Prisoner be damned! I locked the door to protect your honour.’

  ‘Hah!’

  He was not surprised as her scathing response, but he tried again.

  ‘Please, Susannah. Think. It is not light yet. It is not safe for you to go out alone.’

  ‘That is not your concern.’

  As she walked away to the other room he pulled again at the silk rope, feeling it tighten on his wrists. There was no chance of freeing himself quickly. Frantically he searched his mind for any argument to stop her from leaving.

  ‘But you promised, the wager—’

  She returned with her cloak about her shoulders and her bonnet in one hand.

  ‘I have dined with you, and it wants only an hour until dawn, so I have stayed with you until morning. I think you will agree I have fulfilled my part of the wager.’ She put on her bonnet and tied the strings. ‘I will bid you adieu.’

  ‘Good God, woman, you cannot leave me tied up—’

  ‘I can, and I will. Do not worry, your valet will be back in an hour or so. Of course, you might try calling for help, but this could be a little embarrassing to explain, don’t you think?’

  ‘Damn it all, Susannah—’

  She drew herself up to her full height, and despite the tumbled curls that escaped from her bonnet she was as haughty as any aristocrat.

  ‘You have said quite enough, my lord. Our acquaintance is at an end. You are no longer welcome in my house and I shall not acknowledge you, should we meet in public.’

  With that she swept out of the room.

  Chapter Eight

  Jasper stared at the closed door. One of the candles guttered and went out, increasing the gloom. With a growl of frustration he strained against the silk rope. He was not worried for himself, as Susannah had said, Peters would be back soon, but he did not like to think of her out in the darkened streets alone.

  However, there was little he could do about it at present, so he tried to make himself comfortable. The fire had died away to a sullen glow and the air was growing chill, so he wriggled himself under the bedclothes. It took some time but at last he managed to cover himself sufficiently and he settled down to wait for morning.

  * * *

  Susannah kept her veil pulled over her face as she ran through the deserted streets. The ground was covered with a fine dusting of snow and the cold seeped through her thin slippers, numbing her toes. She had always disliked the way the silk tassels knocked against her when she moved, but now she was painfully aware of their lack. It had been her plan to use the cord tonight, if it should become necessary, and it had worked exceedingly well. She felt a twinge of guilt when she thought of leaving the viscount a prisoner. He would never forgive her for that.

  A scuffle made her start and look around nervously, but although she saw shadowy figures in the alleyways and heard the occasional bark of a dog as she hurried on, no one approached her and she reached the Crescent without being accosted. She ran down the area steps and used her key to enter through the servants’ door, which she had instructed Dorcas to leave unbolted. A single lamp burned in the small servants’ hall, and Susannah saw her maid dozing by the dying embers of the fire. She stirred as Susannah secured the door.

  ‘Ooh, mistress, thank the Lord you are back safe.’

  ‘Thank heaven indeed,’ murmured Susannah, sinking into a chair.

  ‘My dear ma’am, you are shaking like a leaf.’

  ‘Y-yes. I d-didn’t realise how frightened I was.’

  Dorcas was wide awake now, and approached her mistress anxiously. ‘Heaven help us! If that rascally viscount has harmed you—’

  ‘No, no, it was not Lord Markham,’ said Susannah. ‘It was coming back alone through the dark streets. And he is not rascally,’ she added with something of her old spirit. ‘He was merely trying to protect his cousin.’

  ‘Well, ’twasn’t right for him to go bullying you to dine alone with him. What Mrs Wilby would say if she knew...’

  ‘It was very wrong of me, I know that.’ Now that the danger was over, Susannah felt a great desire to weep and had to fight back the tears. ‘It is done, and no one is any the worse.’ She glanced out of the window, where the darkness was giving way to the first grey light of dawn. She hoped very much that Peters would return soon and free Lord Markham. Resolutely she turned her thoughts away from the viscount. ‘Come along, Dorcas. I must sleep. My carriage is ordered for eight o’clock.’

  ‘Never tell me you are going to Florence House in the morning.’

  ‘You know I must. I have arranged to call for Mrs Logan. We want to see how they go on with the new housekeeper.’ She crept up to her room, thankful that the early hour prevented Dorcas from voicing her opinions as they made their way through the silent house.

  * * *

  When Peters entered the viscount’s sitting room at York House Jasper greeted him with an angry bellow. Peters rushed to the bedroom and stopped abruptly in the doorway.

  ‘Well don’t stand there gawping,’ roared Jasper. ‘Untie me!’

  ‘Yes, m’lord, at once, but, what, who—?’

  ‘I should think that was obvious,’ growled Jasper, curbing his impatience as Peters struggled with the knots in the silken rope. ‘Thank God the maid did not find me like this.’

  ‘Knowing the nature of your engagement last night, I informed the staff that you were not to be disturbed,’ replied Peters calmly.

  ‘The devil you did. What time is it?’

  ‘Nearing seven, m’lord.’

  ‘Good. Then we are not too late.’ At last he was free and Jasper sat up, rubbing his wrists. ‘I want you to send a message to the stables. Have Morton come here. Now.’

  ‘My lord?’

  ‘I want him to go to Royal Crescent as soon as maybe.’

  ‘Sir, if I may be so bold, if the lady is reluctant...’ Under his master’s frowning gaze the valet shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, finally saying in a rush, ‘It’s not like you, sir, to pursue a woman
if she ain’t willing.’

  Jasper shook his head.

  ‘Willing be damned. That has nothing to do with it. Miss Prentess said she was going out this morning. I want to know where she is bound. I’ll find out what her secret is if I have to tear Bath apart!’

  * * *

  By nine o’clock the viscount was washed and dressed in his green riding coat and buckskins. His heavy caped driving coat was thrown over a chair and his hat and gloves rested on the table in readiness. He strode impatiently up and down the sitting room, stopping occasionally to look out of the window, where large feathery flakes of snow could be seen floating down. At last he heard a hasty footstep approaching. Morton entered upon the knock.

  ‘Well?’ Jasper barked out the word.

  ‘I saw the carriage setting off, my lord, and followed it, as you ordered. It went as far as a house just this side of Priston. On the Wells Road.’

  ‘And you can find it again?’ demanded Jasper, shrugging himself into his driving coat.

  ‘Aye, my lord. The curricle is at the door now, but the weather’s turning bad. The snow is beginning to settle.’

  ‘Then the sooner we get started the better.’

  * * *

  The horses were fresh and Jasper had to concentrate to keep them in check as they trotted through the quiet streets. It was early yet, and the snow was keeping all but the very hardy indoors. Once they had crossed the bridge and were settled upon the Wells Road he gave them their heads and they rattled along at a cracking pace. It was snowing heavily now, coating the ground and hedges and making it difficult to see far ahead. Beside him, Morton hunched down into his coat and muttered occasionally about the folly of travelling in such weather. Jasper was beginning to agree with him and was contemplating abandoning his journey when the snow eased and the dense cloud lifted a little.

  ‘There, we shall go on easily now.’

  ‘Aye, my lord, ‘til the weather sets in again,’ retorted Morton with all the familiarity of an old and trusted retainer. ‘I mislike the look of that sky. If you was to ask me we should turn back now.’

  Jasper looked up. The grey, sullen clouds matched his mood exactly.