Wicked Pleasures

by Helen Dickson

  ‘I’m sorry for the disturbance. I do hope you’ll forgive me for being late.’

  ‘You’re always late, Lettie.’

  ‘I only got back from London tonight, and I’ve had simply heaps to do. You’re not cross with me, are you, Grant?’

  Grant grinned at her, slipping an arm about her narrow waist and hugging her close. He was clearly very fond of his sister.

  ‘I was none too pleased that you missed dinner, but at twenty-three years old you’re a bit too old for me to take you across my knee, Lettie.’

  ‘You always were a tyrant,’ Lettie teased, laughing gaily.

  The love in Lettie’s voice was discernible to Adeline. It was clear to her that Grant and his sister enjoyed a warm family relationship of a kind Adeline had never known and never would.

  Grant turned and looked down at Adeline. ‘Lettie, this is Adeline Osborne. She is here with her father and her fiancé, Paul Marlow.’

  Adeline stood up and smiled at Grant’s sister, finding a pair of fearless sparkling eyes scrutinising her curiously. Then a delighted smile dawned on her pretty face and she clasped Adeline’s hand in a warm gesture of greeting.

  ‘I can’t tell you how pleased I am to meet you—or how relieved I am that I will have someone nearer to my own age to talk to. Grant has a disagreeable habit of inviting people to his parties who are either too long in the tooth or have nothing of interest to talk about—although to be fair to them I have known nearly every lady and gentleman present for most of my life, and they are all extremely nice people.’

  ‘My sister is a rebel, Adeline,’ Grant provided with mild humour. ‘Liberal and free-thinking, and she has strong opinions about most things. She is an independent young woman who flouts convention disgracefully. She argues passionately about rights for women and she has a habit of championing the unfortunate.’

  ‘Really?’ Adeline smiled, glancing at Lettie with something akin to admiration. ‘How commendable.’

  ‘You may think so. Mother is remarkably tolerant of her earnest convictions—me less so. Take care not to offend Adeline, Lettie,’ Grant warned with mock gravity. ‘She is a gently reared young lady who spends most of her time buried in the country and has probably never heard of the Women’s Movement and Suffragists.’

  His words were highly provocative to a sensitive Adeline. Her eyes snapped to his. ‘On the contrary. Because I spend most of my time “buried in the country” it does not mean that I am stupid. I have heard of the Women’s Movement and I am full of admiration for what it is trying to achieve. As for myself, I have many accomplishments. I am well read, and conversant in several languages. I am also a capable horsewoman. I swim and fish, and I excel at fencing—a talent you might like to test some time, Mr Leighton.’

  He smiled broadly, his strong white teeth gleaming from between his parted lips. ‘I might consider it,’ he replied, open to the challenge and deliberately baiting her. ‘But are you good enough, I am prompted to ask?’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘As to that, I invite you to be the judge.’

  ‘Then I shall look forward to disarming you.’

  Lettie laughed good-humouredly. ‘You’d better watch out for Grant, Adeline. He’s quite a ladies’ man.’

  Grant gave his sister a dark look. ‘And your only diversion is to shock and annoy me, Lettie. I’m seriously thinking of putting a muzzle on you. Your manners are atrocious. That said, I will leave you two to get acquainted. I’ve neglected my other guests long enough.’

  Lettie placed a restraining hand on his arm. ‘Grant—wait.’ He paused and glanced at her. ‘Will you be riding in the morning?’ He nodded. ‘Good. I’ll see you at the stables at seven.’ She laughed when he raised a dubious brow. ‘I won’t be late, I promise.’

  ‘I’ll believe that when I see it. You’re always late.’ His gaze shifted to Adeline. ‘What about you, Adeline? If you ride as well as you say you fence, then perhaps you would care to join us? Most of the guests will be along, and I have several splendid mounts.’

  ‘Thank you. I’d love to join you.’

  He nodded, and after excusing himself went to circulate among his other guests.

  Immediately Lettie pulled Adeline down onto the sofa and began chatting animatedly.

  Adeline found the conversation extremely stimulating, and joined in with an enthusiasm that surprised her. She listened in fascination to Lettie’s visionary ideas about how one day the dark days of repression would end for women and they would overcome the stigma of inferiority and become completely liberated. Adeline didn’t believe it, of course, but she liked to think Lettie was right.

  When Lettie accused most men of being tyrants, Adeline found herself glancing across the room at Paul. In conversation with an elderly gentleman, he looked morose. Meeting her gaze, he regarded her with the air of an inquisitor. Looking away quickly, Adeline was inclined to think Lettie was right in her assertion, which boded ill for the future.

  Suddenly Paul appeared in front of her. She hadn’t even seen him approach.

  ‘Paul—I believe you are acquainted with Grant’s sister?’

  Paul bowed his head politely. ‘I am. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Leighton. Adeline, have you forgotten that you promised to partner me at bridge?’

  ‘Bridge?’ Lettie remarked amusedly. ‘Oh, but Adeline and I are just getting to know each other, and we have much to talk about. I’m sure you can find someone else to partner you, Paul.’

  Paul was not amused, Adeline could tell. He had been cold, distant and argumentative ever since they had arrived, which she put down to the company and lack of female attention.

  A hardness entered Paul’s eyes, and they narrowed on her with censorious annoyance. ‘Adeline, are you coming?’ he persisted.

  ‘No, Paul. Suddenly I have an aversion to the game.’

  He looked most put out. ‘You never have before.’

  Her smile was defiant. ‘I have tonight,’ she replied, reflecting that she would need to be prepared for a scolding from him later.

  Normally Paul would have insisted, and she would have relented—but, not wishing to make a scene, he had to accept it. He thought—quite correctly—that she had come under the influence of Miss Leticia Leighton—for it was well known that she held some ridiculously extreme radical views regarding the rights of women. Although he had also noticed of late that Adeline seemed to have developed a subdued aversion to him, which was both a mystery and a source of irritation. Because he had never had any difficulty getting on with the opposite sex, he was forced, therefore, to set the blame entirely down to her, and hope things would improve when she became his wife.

  ‘Very well. Will you be riding in the morning?’

  ‘Yes. I’m looking forward to it enormously. Will you?’

  ‘Of course.’ So saying, he excused himself and walked away.

  ‘Dear me,’ Lettie murmured, her eyes following Paul across the room. ‘Why on earth are you marrying him?’

  Normally Adeline would have been uncomfortable with such a pertinent remark, yet she was so amazed at Lettie’s out-spokeness that she wasn’t offended by it in the least. ‘You don’t like Paul, do you, Lettie?’

  She shrugged. ‘Not much.’ Lettie glanced at Adeline with concern. ‘I hope you don’t mind me speaking my mind. I always do. Mother says it’s one of my bad points.’

  ‘Not at all. But do you mind if I ask why you find him disagreeable?’

  ‘Well, for a start he’s absolutely convinced of his own superiority. There’s also something secretive about his manner which makes me uneasy—and besides, he’s much too old for you.’

  Adeline sighed. Lettie was right, of course, but out of loyalty and duty—more to her father than to Paul—she made no comment. ‘Father doesn’t think so. He considers it a suitable match.’

  ‘And you go along with that?’

  ‘It’s easier than arguing with him.’

  ‘Really, Adeline! My first impression of you
was that you are a fighter. You must stand up for yourself.’

  Adeline was amused by this. She was completely taken with the easy friendliness of Grant Leighton’s sister, and accepted the feeling as mutual. ‘Are you saying I should disobey my father?’

  Lettie seemed to give it some thought before saying, ‘Yes—yes, in this instance I am.’

  Feeling restless and despondent, and unable to sleep, and being a great reader, Adeline looked for her book. When she was unable to find it she realised she had left it on the sofa in the drawing room. The hour was late and, thinking that everyone would have retired to their rooms long since, she pulled her robe over her nightgown and left her room. The house was deathly still, and only the chimes of a distant clock tolling one o’clock broke the silence. She glanced about her, peering into shadows and dark recesses as she went down the stairs.

  Grant was in the drawing room, enjoying some time alone before going to bed. The room was in semi-darkness, with only a couple of lamps left burning. Having removed his jacket, he was seated before the dying fire with his legs stretched out in front of him. Looking through the open door and into the hall, he was amazed to see Adeline move smoothly down the stairs, looking like a fantasy—flowing white in ribbons and lace.

  Immediately he was on his feet and moving quietly to the door. Adeline turned and gasped when he suddenly stepped in front of her. His bold silver-grey eyes raked her quite openly.

  ‘Ah, another night owl.’

  His voice, as soft and smooth as the finest silk, stroked Adeline like a caress. She felt its impact even as she realised how intently he was studying her face. His potent virility made her feel entirely too vulnerable.

  ‘Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’ Adeline flushed. ‘I came to look for my book. I believe I left it on the couch.’

  Grant stepped back and swept his arm inward in a silent invitation for her to proceed. Adeline complied, and Grant watched in fascination the play of firelight through her clothing. His breath caught in his throat as the outline of her long, lithe body was subtly betrayed through her flimsy nightdress. His mind returned to the memory of that night, and her beautiful figure and glorious long legs. He was quickly brought back to the present when she retrieved her book from where it was in danger of disappearing behind a cushion and came back to him.

  Adeline was uneasy. As he dragged his eyes upward from her body to her face his gaze was far too intent, thoughtful and serious. He was too close and too masculine. She averted her gaze, hot-faced and perplexed.

  Grant knew enough about Adeline Osborne to know that she spelt trouble to him, but there was something unusual and provocative about her—something that stirred him and drew him to her. Reaching out, he ran a finger lightly down the curve of her cheek. Pausing at her mouth, with his thumb he traced the soft fullness of her lower lip.

  Sensations of unexpected pleasure stirred within her. She trembled, and could almost feel the bold thrust of him between her thighs. Uncomfortable at the knowing look in his eyes, and sensing he was on the verge of kissing her, in order to retain her sanity she took a step back.

  ‘Please don’t,’ she whispered.

  ‘Why? Does my touch offend you?’ He smiled knowingly. ‘Spare me your maidenly protests. It didn’t, as I recall, on one occasion.’

  ‘An occasion we both agreed never to speak of.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with talking about it between ourselves—although you have the advantage.’

  ‘I do?’

  ‘You remember everything we did, whereas I…’

  ‘You were completely foxed,’ she reminded him sharply. ‘That is your problem, not mine.’

  ‘Are you not curious to find out if what you experienced is still as good as it was then? Didn’t you say that it was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to you?’

  ‘Perhaps it was the danger…the risk that made it so exciting,’ she whispered lamely, in an attempt to find an excuse to explain why she had told him that.

  ‘Whatever it was, I am curious to discover what I missed.’

  What he was suggesting startled Grant, and made him doubt his sanity. Although, having made the suggestion, he was beginning to see no great harm in it.

  To Adeline, his statement confused her. She stared at him in dazed wonder. Self-conscious, she let her gaze dwell on his finely moulded lips, watching as a faint smile, a challenging smile, lifted them at the corners.

  ‘What do you say, Adeline? Are you afraid to find out?’ he asked, his voice low and husky. Reaching out, he fastened his hands on the curve of her exceedingly trim waist and drew her close. ‘Finding you floating through my house at this late hour looking as you do, you are too tempting by half.’

  In her confused state of loneliness and longing it was all too much. She made no protest when he bent his head and took her lips in a feather-light kiss, warm and inviting her to respond. Paralysed, she felt all the passion he had shown her before sear through her body. She couldn’t believe it was happening again. She felt that familiar burst of exquisite delight as she let him hold her in the complete lassitude of surrender.

  Raising his head, Grant looked down at her upturned face. It was soft in the lamplight, her eyes large and dark. His lips lifted lazily. ‘Is that how you remember it?’

  Unwilling to surrender her secret memories of tenderness and stormy passion, she kept her gaze on his lips and murmured, ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Care to try it again?’ Grant invited, still willing to indulge in a few more pleasurable moments—so long as there was no pretence that it was anything but that. ‘Why don’t you show me how you remember it?’ he teased as his lips came closer. ‘Show me…’ His hands slipped beneath the heavy wealth of her hair and moved round her nape, sensually stroking it as his mouth felt the softness of her cheek and the disturbing lasciviousness of her lips. She was a woman of such contrasts.

  Seduced by his kiss and caressing hands, Adeline clung to him, sliding slowly into a dark abyss of desire as once again she felt the wanton, primitive sensations jarring along her nerves. The feeling suddenly frightened her. She drew back, her heart beating sickeningly fast.

  ‘I think you forget yourself,’ she whispered. ‘You shouldn’t be doing this—not again. Do you forget that my father and my fiancé are guests in your house? What you said to me that night at Westwood Hall led me to presume you are not so fussy over where and when you accept favours from a certain type of woman. I am not like that. Despite what happened between us, my father brought me up decently. I am nothing like the women of your experience—like Diana Waverley.’

  A sensual smile played about his lips. ‘How quickly you become defensive. It is precisely what did happen between us not so very long ago that makes you not so very different. You can’t change that, nor what you are, Adeline,’ he said lazily, his arms still encircling her, not letting her go. ‘A decently reared young woman would surely have been scandalised on finding a strange man about to get into bed with her. She would have shouted for help, alerted the rest of the household. You did not react that way, however hard you protest.’

  Adeline gasped at his arrogance. ‘And what am I?’ she said bitterly. ‘Do you see what I did as an open invitation to seduce me whenever you get the opportunity? Believe that because I gave myself to you once I’m fair sport to be ravished when the fancy takes you?’ And with his expertise Adeline had no doubt that he would succeed, feeling as she did about him. She was drawn to him, and felt unwilling to resist.

  ‘I’ve no intention of taking you here and now. But don’t doubt my needs, Adeline,’ he murmured softly, drawing her closer. ‘Or my intention of repeating what we did. But not here. Not like this. When the opportunity arises it will not be a quick lift of your skirts in a dark corner—delightful though that prospect might be.’

  Adeline stared at him, registering all that he implied. His handsome face was all planes and shadows and his eyes glittered sharply. ‘You shouldn’t b
e speaking to me like this,’ she whispered. She knew it was wrong, and yet she could not deny that it was so wickedly exciting.

  Pleasurably wanton feelings rippled through her at the memory of how she had felt when he had made love to her, her eyes glazing slightly as she conjured up the magic of his hands on her soft flesh, cupping her breasts. Instead of trying to stifle her feelings when he bent his head to cover her lips once again, she allowed them to flood through her. She received his kiss with innocent passion, and the offering of her mouth caused Grant to seize it in a kiss of melting hunger that deepened to scorching demand.

  Lust roared through him, and he splayed a hand across her spine, forcing her into contact with his own hard, aroused body. Automatically his hands pressed her buttocks against his arousal, and then, suddenly aware of what he was doing, he tore his mouth from hers and stared down at her as he tried to regain control of his senses.

  ‘Well? Was it the same as the last time I kissed you?’

  She nodded. ‘And some more.’

  They pulled apart and stood facing each other, Adeline still clutching her book to her chest. Grant was debating whether to kiss her again, or try to pass the matter off as some light occurrence, when a male voice suddenly erupted from the doorway.

  Chapter Four

  ‘Good Lord, Adeline! What’s going on?’

  Adeline spun round in mindless panic, her gaze flying to Paul. Mortified to the very depths of her being by the realisation that he had almost caught her in Grant’s arms, she braced herself for a tirade on the subject of what Paul would consider to be her disgraceful behaviour. She stood and looked at him, rigid with shock. Meeting his eyes, somehow she managed to calm herself. Afraid of rousing some conflict between the two men, she could not let him see the flush of passion on her cheeks, or the warm light of desire in her eyes.

  Paul’s alert, suspicious gaze moved from Adeline in her night attire to Grant.

  ‘Paul—I—I was just…’ She cast a nervous, pleading look at Grant and found him regarding Paul not with shame but with irritated amusement. Paul’s face hardened and he threw her a reproachful glance. Dear Lord, she thought, if he were to know the truth…But, no matter what was going through his mind, the last thing he would want would be a scene—he hated the vulgarity of scenes. As long as you didn’t put a thing into words, it didn’t exist.