If He's Wild

by Hannah Howell

  Hartley meandered back inside the Hitchmoughs’ home after enjoying a smoke with some friends and contemplated dancing with Alethea. His connection with Claudette was as good as severed, having dwindled to no more than a cool, polite acquaintance, at least on his part. Although he loathed gossip, the whispers he and his friends had carefully seeded through the fertile fields of the ton were beginning to bear fruit, and that was something that pleased him.

  Claudette was slowly being pushed out of the hunting grounds she needed to survive. He soothed his distaste for the scheme by reminding himself that the whispers held hints of the full ugly truth about Madame Claudette des Rouches and thus were not complete gossip. In a way, it was also a just retribution, for she had ruined the names and reputations of many a man and woman with her gossip and lies.

  The only thing that worried him was that he could see the fury building in Claudette. It glittered in her eyes and tightened her features, stealing some of the beauty she used to such ruthless advantage. Hartley could not begin to guess how she would react when she realized how fully she had lost in the game, but he knew it boded ill for someone.

  He was just wondering if he should have even more men shadowing her and her sister when he turned a corner and bumped into Alethea. Hartley quickly caught hold of her when she started to fall backward. He began to chuckle as he steadied her, but his humor died a swift death when he saw her face. She looked terrified, her skin too pale and her eyes slightly glazed.

  “What has happened, Alethea?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”

  “No. No, I have not been hurt, but I need to get home,” she replied as she gripped his arms tightly. “Take me home now, Hartley. Please.”

  “You are shaking, love. Tell me what has happened.”

  Alethea looked around quickly and saw no one, but shook her head. “No. Not here. Home. Get me home.”

  “I will need to call for a carriage, but I do not wish to leave you alone when you are so upset.”

  Hartley was wondering if he dared take her through the ballroom when she was in such a state when Aldus strolled up to them. The man had been outside with him and a half dozen other men sharing a smoke when Hartley had returned to the house. He did not think he had ever been so glad to see Aldus.

  “Aldus, can you call me a carriage and then tell Iago that I have taken Alethea home?” said Hartley.

  Aldus looked at the way a trembling Alethea clung to Hartley and frowned. “What has happened?”

  “I will tell you when I know. She is not harmed. That is enough for now.”

  “How will you get her out of here?”

  “Out through the servants’ entrance. Do not forget to tell Iago that she is not hurt, just upset.”

  Hartley stared at his friend, hoping that Aldus would understand what he was not saying. He wanted to take care of Alethea himself, did not want Iago rushing home. It had been days since he was last alone with Alethea, and, even if the time was spent soothing her, he wanted to be alone with her now. Hartley had not even realized how tense he had become until Aldus nodded and he relaxed. Aldus gave him a wink, patted Alethea gently on the back, and then strode away.

  “I am being such a craven coward,” Alethea muttered as Hartley wrapped his arm around her waist and began to lead her to the servant’s entrance of the house.

  “Do not be foolish,” he said. “You are no coward, love. No one who can see the things you can and then act on them could be a coward. I will get you home, you can have something to drink, and then you are going to tell me why you are so upset. If you recover sooner, you may tell me what has happened as we ride in the carriage.”

  Alethea said nothing as he ushered her out to the front of the house and helped her into the waiting carriage. She settled herself into his arms with a sigh, needing to luxuriate in his warmth and strength. He calmed her without saying a word, but she did not change her mind about what she planned to do. Claudette had threatened her family, and she could not let her need to stay near Hartley sway her in her decision to leave.

  “What happened to frighten you so, Alethea?” Hartley asked when he felt her trembling begin to ease. He stroked her back and struggled not to let his hunger for her change his attempt to comfort her into a seductive caress.

  “Madame Claudette confronted me in the lady’s retiring room,” she replied, and his whole body tensed against her. “She has decided that she wishes to be a marchioness and wanted me to get out of her way.”

  “Good God! Even if I had no hint of what she has done, I would never consider making such a woman my marchioness. I think she has bedded half the House of Lords.”

  “That would be awkward.” She ignored his badly muffled laugh. “She told me to go back to Coulthurst and threatened dire retributions if I did not do so, and soon.”

  “I will increase the guard around you.”

  “More guards will not help. She also threatened my family. The Vaughns and the Wherlockes. You cannot guard us all, Hartley.” She eased out of his hold a little and was not surprised to see him scowling at her in the dim light of the carriage lamps. “Her threat cannot be defeated with sword or fist. It cannot even be spoken of because it would only hurt my family more if we had to prove that the threat had any teeth to it. She plans to spread the whispers of our being witches, demons, devil worshippers, and all that. I told her that my family has been whispered about in the ton for centuries, scoffing at her threat at first.”

  “And rightly so. Even if she could get someone to heed her, the ton would shrug off her tales as they have shrugged off such tales before.”

  “And so I told her, but that is when her threat became truly frightening. She will not spread her tales through the ton, but through the common folk. As she said, they are not so enlightened as to laugh it away. They still believe in demons, devils, and witches, still fear them. She said she would stir up a mob against my family, and we both know how easily that could be achieved.”

  “It has been a long time since there was any persecution of witches,” he said as the carriage pulled to a halt in front of Iago’s townhouse.

  “So many think because they have not had the superstitious amongst us turn on them and their loved ones.”

  Hartley helped her out of the carriage and escorted her to the door, thinking hard on a way to convince her that she did not need to fear this latest attempt by Claudette to frighten her away. Ethelred opened the door just as their feet touched the top of the steps. Hartley noticed that Alethea looked a lot calmer, but he suspected it was because she had come to a decision and one he would not like.

  “Ethelred, have my trunks brought to my room, please,” Alethea said and then turned to Hartley the moment the butler walked away. “I will leave for Coulthurst in the morning.” She kissed him on the cheek and started up the stairs, fighting the urge to turn and run into his arms with every step she took.

  “Oh, no, you will not,” said Hartley and started up the stairs right behind her.

  “’Tis what I must do. Kate,” she called, “I need you to help me pack for the journey back to Coulthurst.”

  “Kate, she is not packing,” Hartley yelled. Catching her by the arm, he dragged her off to her room. “And tell Ethelred she needs no trunks,” he added as he saw Kate standing only a few feet away as he pushed Alethea into her bedchamber.

  “Hartley! Do not order my servants around. I have to leave. Kate!” Alethea caught a brief glimpse of Kate hurrying down the stairs to the foyer just before Hartley closed the door and latched it. Kate had obviously decided to try her hand at a little matchmaking, and Alethea promised to make her pay for that. “Damn it, Hartley, I cannot risk my family. I told you, there are a lot of Vaughns and Wherlockes in the city right now.”

  “Then warn them. I suspect they are well aware of what to do about such a threat.”

  “They are, but they should not have to worry about it just because I have tangled myself up with a madwoman.”

  She moved toward her wardrobe only
to find his big body blocking the door. He did the same when she darted toward her dressing table. How did a man of his size move so quickly? she thought angrily. Alethea stopped, put her hands on her hips, and glared at him.

  “You cannot expect me to take the chance that she can do as she threatened to. I have to leave.”

  “No.”

  “Why? Why are you being so difficult about this? I am no soldier or spy. Already you waste valuable men in the protecting of me, men who would be better used to help bring that woman down. If I have a vision, I can always send word to you. Why must I stay here?”

  A squeak escaped her when he grabbed her, picked her up, and carried her to her bed. Surprise stole her breath when he tossed her down on it. When he sprawled on top of her, she feared she would never regain that much-needed breath. A heady warmth flowed through her as his hard, strong body pressed against hers. Alethea fought against the cloud of desire that began to encircle her mind. She wanted what he was offering, wanted it badly, but she had no time for it now.

  “What do you think you are doing?” she asked, unable to keep all of her sudden breathlessness out of her voice.

  “I am about to show you why you cannot leave.” Hartley moved so that he could easily remove her shoes and then ran a hand up one slim leg.

  “You think you can seduce me out of doing what is necessary?”

  Alethea knew she ought to stop the man. He was taking her clothes off, pausing only to shed a piece of his own clothing now and again. It would not be long before they were both naked. That should shock her and bring a stern protest to her lips. Instead, it made her heart skip with glee in her chest and her blood run hot. By the time she was stripped to her shift and he wore only his breeches, Alethea knew that protesting was the very last thing she wanted to do.

  The Marquis of Redgrave was a very handsome man in all ways, she decided as she tried not to pant. She had seen men with their shirts off before but not one of them had made her so short of breath just from looking at them. Hartley was all lean, elegant muscle and taut, smooth skin. She wanted to put her mouth on that skin, to taste him everywhere. That thought should also have shocked her right down to her toes, but it just made her more eager for what he planned.

  “This could prove to be a complication,” she forced herself to say, knowing full well that it would be one for her and hoping it might be for him as well.

  “No, I think not.”

  Hartley removed her shift and caught his breath so quickly he nearly choked. He had suspected that Alethea dressed in a way that disguised most of her curves, but his imagination had not come close to the reality. Her breasts were full and round, almost too much for her otherwise slim shape to hold, and they were tipped with large, dark rose aureoles, her nipples already hard and inviting. Her hips flared out invitingly from her small waist; he already knew she had a firm, well-rounded backside, but her legs were long and slender. That shapely body was covered by soft ivory skin that only enhanced the tidy vee of black curls at the juncture of her strong, slim thighs. Despite the fact that she had a wealth of thick black hair on her head, the rest of her body was surprisingly lacking in hair. Hartley found that intoxicating.

  His blood pounding with need, he yanked off the last of his clothing and tossed it aside. The way her eyes widened as her gaze settled on his erection, the way they darkened with desire, made him want to strut around the room. Need overpowered that strange urge, and he quickly settled his body over hers. He groaned with pleasure when his flesh touched hers, her soft gasp of delight music to his ears.

  “Hartley.” Alethea found it a struggle to talk but forced a sliver of clarity into her desire-fogged mind. “There is something you need to know about me.”

  “Your husband never touched you.”

  “How could you know that?”

  He kissed her, growling his approval when her tongue tangled with his. “There were rumors that Channing was not, well, he had little appreciation of women. Am I right? Are you untouched?”

  “Yes. Channing never did more than give me the occasional kiss, brief and closed. I do not know much about all this, and you are used to women with experience—”

  He stopped her words with another kiss. “It is going to be a pleasure beyond words to teach you about all a man and woman can share.”

  Alethea had the fleeting thought that he sounded annoyingly arrogant, but his kiss banished it. She wrapped her arms around him, caressing the smooth, taut skin of his broad back. Just the feel of his flesh against hers, the warmth of it beneath her hands, sent desire tearing through her veins with a strength that was almost frightening in its intensity. She could not get close enough, could not touch him enough to satisfy the craving that grew within her.

  She tilted her head back in welcome as he kissed his way down her throat. When he covered her breasts with his hands, she gasped at the pleasure the caress brought, the faint calluses on his fingers making her nipples ache as he caressed them. Then his warm lips followed the path of his hands, and her body filled with an aching demand.

  “Hartley!” she cried when he licked the aching tip of her breast, and even she did not know if it was a cry of protest over such an intimate caress or a cry of utter delight. All interest in which it was disappeared completely when he took the swollen tip of one breast into the damp heat of his mouth and sucked.

  Hartley savored the way her small hands clenched on his body, her nails scraping against his skin. Her lushly curved yet lithe little body shifted against him in a silent demand he was struggling to ignore. She was searing fire in his arms, her passion running as fierce and hot as his own. He ached to bury himself deep within her and ride her, hard, until they both cried out in release, but he fought to chain that urge. Alethea was untried, and he was determined to make her first time with a man, her first time with him, as enjoyable as every time to follow would be.

  Greedily enjoying the taste of her on his mouth, the scent of her desire perfuming the air, and the silken warmth of her skin beneath his hands, Hartley worked to build her passion up so high and so hot that she would not even flinch when he took her maidenhead. Just the thought of her innocence caused him a twinge of unease, so he ruthlessly banished it from his mind. He caressed every inch of her body with his hands as he feasted upon her full breasts, pausing in that sublime chore only to kiss her now and then. She was fulsome, well-rounded in all of the places a woman should be, yet slender as a reed everyplace else. It was a heady mix. Delighting in her every gasp and soft moan, he slid his hand between her legs, stroking her, and was pleased to find that she was already weeping in welcome for him, readying her body to receive him. Her shock over such a deeply intimate caress was so fleeting, Hartley knew she was more than ready for the next step in their erotic dance.

  Hartley kissed her as he began to join their bodies, her tight heat making him so eager and hungry that he had to grit his teeth to stop himself from moving too quickly. The moment he reached her maidenhead, he grasped her by the hips and thrust home. He groaned with relief to discover the shield of her innocence was a thin one, easily breeched, and eliciting only one soft gasp from her. She quickly arched her body up toward his, helping him to sink even deeper into her heat.

  Alethea was startled out of the haze of passion she had sunk into by Hartley’s abrupt entrance into her body. Only a brief twinge of a shadowy pain told her of her lost innocence. She felt uncomfortably full, however, and shifted her legs a little farther up his body. Alethea then arched against him and all discomfort eased, the sense of being filled becoming a pure delight. He kissed her, his tongue mimicking the slow, deep thrusts of his body. She clutched at his back as something within her began to tighten in a way that was a mix of pleasure and pain. It was as if every drop of desire in her blood was rushing toward the place where her body was joined with his.

  “Hartley?” she called softly, a sliver of fear trying to cut through the heat of her passion. “I feel…There is something.” Alethea almost cursed alo
ud at her inability to explain what she was experiencing.

  “Do not fight it, love,” he said and nipped at her earlobe. “Flow with it, give in to its pull.”

  A heartbeat later she did, crying out his name as the knot of blazing hunger split apart, sending waves of blinding passion through her veins. Alethea was faintly aware of Hartley pounding into her, once, twice, and then his whole body tensed as he growled out her name. The sound was feral, fierce, and it added to the swirl of heat and beauty she was caught up in. The hot surge of his seed spilled inside her just before she became completely lost in the maelstrom of desire gripping her mind and body.

  The cool, damp movement of a cloth over her nether regions yanked Alethea out of the daze she had slipped into with a shocked gasp on her lips. She raised her hand to push away whatever assaulted her so intimately only to hear Hartley chuckle. The heat of a blush stung her cheeks when she realized he had just been washing away the signs of their lovemaking on her body.

  And it had been lovemaking, at least on her part, she realized when he climbed back into bed and pulled her into his arms. She looked into his slumberous golden brown eyes and nearly sighed like some love-struck girl right out of the schoolroom. Alethea inwardly straightened her spine, squared her shoulders, and pushed that moonstruck chit into a dark corner of her mind. This was an affair; that was all Hartley wanted. To pine for more was foolish; to let him see clearly that she pined for more would put a swift end to this affair. She was going to have a shattered heart no matter when he walked away from her, and she was determined to make every moment with him count, as well as gather as many of those moments as possible.

  “I was prepared for pain,” she said as she rested her cheek against his chest and idly circled her palm over his taut stomach, “but there was so little it barely made me blink.”

  “Your innocence was but lightly protected, love, and I am grateful for that. It allowed you to enjoy the full measure of pleasure.”