A Little Bit Wild

by Victoria Dahl

  "What. . . ?" he croaked, grabbing for Aidan's wrist.

  "Are you having trouble keeping your mouth shut?" Aidan growled.

  "No! I... please ..." When his face turned purple, Aidan set him down and gave him a shove for good measure. White stumbled back and caught himself on the wall.

  "You'd better start explaining," Aidan said over White's coughing. "If I'm satisfied with your honesty, perhaps you'll escape this room with your life."

  "I ... I came to see her, I admit it. We met, but nothing happened! " His bulging eyes slid to Jude. "He was there!"

  Aidan's voice offered no quarter. "The letter."

  "W-which letter? I sent them. I did, but I was only trying to talk her into marriage. It was an entirely honorable communication, I swear on my life."

  Jude finally spoke. "What of the last one?"

  "What of it? She met me, and I had my say. I'm done with her. She's a faithless—" His gaze slid around the room, and Peter White closed his mouth with a snap.

  The other men exchanged glances. Edward stepped forward to stand intimidating close to White. "Who else did you tell?"

  "No one! Christ, do you think I'm mad? Even if I left my name out of it, everyone would know I was part of the story. I'd be struck from half the guest lists of the ton."

  "But you threatened her." Edward leaned closer. "That night. You threatened to tell tales, and to and behold ..."

  "I didn't do it! Please. I admit to seducing her, but I wasn't out to ruin her. I loved her, and I thought she was only being high-spirited. This wasn't my plan!" He jerked his hand to indicate the room and the men and the situation.

  "I warned you that if I heard one word, I'd hold you responsible."

  "I promise, if someone is talking it isn't me."

  "What of your hosts?"

  "I didn't say anything."

  When Edward glanced over his shoulder, Jude jerked his head toward the far corner of the room and then joined Edward there.

  "I think he's telling the truth," Jude muttered.

  "He's the obvious suspect."

  "He was sincere the night he spoke of his feelings for Marissa, and he's terrified enough to tell the truth now." They looked over to see Aidan looming over the crouched man. Peter White covered his head. "He's not a man brave enough to carry out a bribery scheme that would put him up against this family and the law."

  White sobbed, and Edward rolled his eyes before he stalked back across the room. "The truth, Mr. White, is that regardless of who you did or didn't tell, my sister would not be in this situation if you hadn't behaved so dishonorably."

  He peeked past his hands. "I know. I'm sorry.

  This wasn't what I had in mind. I expected we'd he happily engaged by now."

  "Get out of this district and don't return."

  A flush crept over his face, but he nodded, and Edward turned and walked out.

  As soon as they were free of the house, Aidan grabbed his brother's arm. "How can you be certain it wasn't him?"

  Edward shook him off. "Jude is sure it's not him." "Why?"

  "He doesn't have the bullocks."

  "Out of the three men we suspect, he's the one who ruined her. I should go back in there and strangle him now. He has no character. Hell, she's not even the first woman he's debauched!"

  "His character is weak," Jude agreed, "but men have different weaknesses, do they not? He wanted her like a child wants a toy. He wasn't greedy for money. And at this point, his reputation is hanging by a thread. If that story gets out, he will be named. I don't doubt it."

  Edward nodded. "Jude's right. White has nothing to gain and plenty to lose. And now, considering we have a whole legion of other possibilities ..."

  Aidan cursed and stalked toward the horses, leaving Jude and Edward to watch his retreating back.

  "Well," Jude muttered. "He's handling this well."

  "Marissa is right. We've coddled him since she died. Regardless ..." He turned a dark eye on Jude. "We're off to visit the LeMont estate. I'd like you to return to the manor."

  Jude stiffened. He wanted to see this Charles LeMont for himself. "Wouldn't you like another set of eyes? I'm good at reading people."

  "I don't want to leave her alone, in case the threat becomes more malevolent. At any rate, it can't hurt for you two to spend more time together. It looks fairly certain you'll marry."

  Jude stared into the distance. Wrest, toward the York manor. An hour's ride and he'd be back with Marissa. And he wanted to see her a damn sight more than he wanted to set his eyes on Charles LeMont. What, exactly, did he expect to glimpse in the man, anyway? A resemblance to Jude that would give him hope?

  Ridiculous. And pitiful.

  So he nodded his agreement and set off for the lonely ride back. It seemed that he was about to get what he wanted—Marissa York as a wife—but he'd lost his certainty that he could turn this scandal into a happy ending.

  The cold had finally set in, and the lire crackled and whooshed in the quiet drawing room. She and Jude were alone after a long, tense dinner with her mother and Aunt Ophelia and Cousin Harry.

  Her mother had joined them in the drawing room, but she'd left a few minutes ago after several loud declarations of how weary she was.

  "No, no! You two must stay," she'd protested, though neither Marissa nor Jude had offered objection. Finally, she'd yawned extravagantly and swept from the room, closing the door behind her.

  Marissa knew what she was up to. Her mother had said earlier in the day that a marriage was irritable, and Marissa would be wise to ensure that Jude didn't change his mind. "You know what to do," she'd whispered, poking Marissa in the thigh. "Clearly."

  Her mother was arranging a seduction.

  Too bad Jude didn't seem in the mood to be seduced. Marissa snuck a look at him, and found him in the same position he'd held five minutes before. One ankle crossed over a knee. His thumb under his chin and lingers poised thoughtfully beneath his bottom lip. His eves stared into the fire as if it had transported him to another place. He held a brandy snifter, and that was different at least. Five minutes ago it had been full. Now it was empty.

  Whatever her mother's expectations, Marissa had no powers of seduction. She'd only ever been seduced. All her experience lay in acquiescing.

  So she sat, staring into the fire and trying to imagine her future. But the future seemed impossible to predict when the present fell so thoroughly muddled.

  After the past week, she had no idea if Jude wanted to marry her any more than she wanted to marry him. Did she want to marry him?

  The thought wound like a tightening snake around the muscles of her body, and Marissa leapt up to try to stave off the creeping sensation. "More brandy?" she asked, striding over to the table to grab it up.

  "Yes, thank you."

  The half smile Hashed for the briefest moment as she bent to pour the brandy; then the smile was gone, replaced with this new, brooding expression that shut her out. Marissa looked at the blunt fingers holding the snifter, and her heart squeezed.

  Jude wasn't even looking at her, so how in the world would she get him to touch ?

  "Did you see any suitable properties this week?" She hurried back to the table and poured herself a glass as well. "I mean, when you were looking for a house to let?"

  "Perhaps. There's a likely place about three-quarters of an hour from here. Closer to Grantham?"

  "That's a lovely area. Very green."

  "Yes."

  And here they were, awkward again, each sipping their brandy and looking toward the flames.

  He'd come to regret his offer of marriage. She was sure of it.

  Marissa wandered around the room, sipping her brandy and touching various objects, trying to look at ease. But her heart was fluttering with uncertainty. Her life was in suspension, stuck somewhere between her past and her future, and she wasn't sure she was even tethered to the ground. Her body felt too light and her mind far away.

  "What's the matter, mon coeur?” />
  Marissa finished the last of her brandy and set the glass carefully down before she met his eyes. For once, she was too tired to be witty. "I think I'm supposed to seduce you, but you don't seem in the mood for it."

  That got his attention. Jude's brow rose, and he dropped his foot to the floor. Perhaps he really did like her when she was outrageous. "I'm sure I'm always in the mood to be seduced," he said. "Who suggested it? I'll offer him a toast."

  "My mother."

  "Ah. Perhaps I won't mention it then. But I should endeavor to keep my future mother-in-law happy. How did she think you should go about it, exactly?"

  "Oh, hush. Did you not notice all the obvious efforts to leave us alone? She fears you regret your proposal." Marissa kept her voice light.

  "Does she? And she believes you should seduce me into complacency?"

  "More like satisfaction, I believe."

  Now his eyes darkened, and she was gifted with a full, wide smile. Marissa's heart ceased to flutter and began to pound. Power singed through her. Maybe she could play the seducer.

  "Satisfaction?" he purred.

  "Perhaps."

  His smile grew wider. "Come." He patted his knee, and though Marissa felt a spark of trepidation, she steeled her spine and approached. Only to stop at his shoulder.

  "Impossible to seduce me from there, Marissa."

  She wasn't sure that was true. Jude seemed able to seduce her from across the room. Then again, his knee beckoned, and it was attached to such a welcoming thigh. It would certainly be easier to seduce him from there.

  Before she could lose her nerve, she scooted around him and perched on his knee. She didn't know how it fell to him, but the daring of the act sent wicked thrills shivering up her spine. She was silting on a man's lap. In the hopes of arousing him.

  Tapping her toes, she closed her lists and rested them on her legs. Now she was back to not knowing what to do. But her worries were baseless. Jude slid one hand under her hip and wrapped the other over her knee to pull her closer.

  She grabbed him to balance herself, and Jude put his arms around her and pulled her down to his chest. Strangely, it didn't feel seductive. Her cheek was pressed to his shoulder, and he held her too tightly for her to wiggle up for a kiss.

  "Shush," he murmured. "You don't need to seduce me."

  Marissa lay stiffly against him, frowning at his throat. What did he mean, she didn't need to seduce him? Because he liked her or because he didn't care for her anymore?

  'Jude ..." When she placed her hand flat on his chest, the strength of his body made her heart ache. She wanted... something from. him. But she no longer had any idea what it was.

  "It's all right, mon coeur." He stroked her back, and she finally relaxed into him a bit. His heart beat against her ear. "Are you reading a new novel?"

  Frowning in confusion, she nodded.

  "Tell me the story."

  "What has that to do with anything?"

  "It has nothing to do with anything, but I want to hear it."

  After a few puzzled moments, Marissa shrugged and started the story. As she spoke, Jude stroked her back, then her arm; then his hand curved around the nape of her neck and rubbed small circles into her muscles. He laughed at the parts she'd thought were funny, and clucked over the drama of the six couples and their intrigues. And he touched her, always.

  Marissa didn't want him to stop, so when she came to the last part of the story she'd read, she continued on, wearing her own tale. She felt safe in his arms. Cared for. And knoxim. It was so strange to consider a man a friend, and yet he was a friend. That was what she didn't want to lose.

  She finally let the story drift away, but Jude's hand kept up its small caresses. In that moment, she wished they were married, just so they could climb beneath the covers of the bed and lie like this, with no stiff fabrics or stays between them. She wanted to press her hand to his bare chest again, and feel his skin against her cheek.

  "I've been thinking . .." he said, and her heart gave a small cry of pain. This was it. He was calling off. She held her breath and wailed for the awful words.

  "Is there any possibility your cousin could be behind this bribery?"

  Her mind tumbled for a moment, tossed about by the strange topic. "What? Which cousin?"

  "Harry."

  "Harry!" She pushed up from his chest for a moment. "That's absurd."

  Jude raised an eyebrow. "Is it? He knows all about your escapades."

  "That's only because he's always here. He's like a brother, really."

  "And yet he's not."

  "He spent every summer with us. We are his family."

  Jude eased her back down, and she went willingly, comforted by his warmth despite that he was the one saying such discomfiting things.

  He put his hand to her neck and stroked his

  thumb against her nape. "So he is almost like a brother, but not quite. Welcome in the family home, though it will never be his—"

  "Yes. And?"

  "Have you never considered that it could be painful? I have some experience with this, you know," Jude said, and Marissa felt suddenly chastened. Yes, of course he did.

  "But you are not saying you resented them?"

  "No, but I could have. And so could Harry."

  "That's impossible. He's not that type of man. He loves us."

  "All right. I only just thought of it. I haven't spent any time trying to feel him out."

  Marissa frowned at the fire, troubled by his words. It was such a simple thought, that one could belong to a family and yet not belong. But it would never have occurred to her to have sympathy for Harry. Did he resent them? Surely not.

  "It can't he him!" she blurted out. "What about the birthmark?"

  "Ah. Yes, there's that. I suppose that settles it then."

  "Yes. Good. It can't be him."

  "I didn't mean to upset you. Harry seems a likeable fellow."

  "He is."

  "I was only grasping at straws."

  They lapsed back into silence, and eventually, his easy touches soothed her trouble. Jude always did that for her, and her thoughts inevitably turned back to thoughts of marriage and this complex betrothal.

  He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, and her heart felt very strange in that moment. "Why wouldn't you let me seduce you?" she whispered.

  "I don't need to be seduced."

  "And I do?"

  "Well, you need something, ma belle

  My god, that was true, and Marissa couldn't do more than turn her face into his chest and laugh. If she shed a few tears in the process, no one ever knew. Not even Jude.

  Chapter 16

  Jude's mood of self-doubt had vanished by the next day. Oh, he wasn't more certain of Marissa's feelings for him. She'd cuddled quite sweetly into his lap, but the cuddling had started out as an attempt to secure his continued cooperation.

  His only consolation was that Marissa was apparently having just as much trouble deciphering Jude's feelings, if she really thought he needed to be reminded how much he liked her. Seduction implied some resistance, after all, and he wanted nothing more than to take the woman to his bed and keep her there.

  So, no, he was no more confident this morning, but he was already tired of his own brooding about. She'd love him or she wouldn't. There was no reason to get maudlin over it.

  And jealousy.. .Jude had never understood jealousy and had looked on its victims as greedy, stupid men. But now he had a better understanding, not that he liked it any more. He wasn't jealous of Marissa's body, exactly. He just wanted to hoard all her pleasure for himself, even the pleasure she'd fell in the past.

  "Fool," he hit out as he shrugged on his coat and stalked from his room. Hadn't he spent countless hours being pleased by other women? How had any of that affected what he felt for Marissa?

  Despite the fact that he was done with his brooding, Jude wouldn't name his mood pleasant as he strode down the hallway toward the library. Aidan and Edward were supposed to
have returned the night before, but it was now nine in the morning and there was no word. Had they discovered the culprit? Had they given him the thrashing he deserved?

  By God, he wished he'd gone with them. Except then he wouldn't have spent that hour with the weight of Marissa's sweet body against him.

  Jude reached the library and found it blessedly empty. After tasking a servant with bringing him coffee and breakfast, Jude positioned himself in the window nook and watched the stables. The breakfast room had a view of only the leading edge of the stable yard. From the library, Jude would see any sign of someone approaching.

  But the first person he saw wasn't approaching the house, but leaving it. Harry hurried from the rear of the house with a packet tucked tight beneath his arm. He disappeared into the stables, and when he emerged a few minutes later without the paper-wrapped bundle, he looked around with a decided air of nervousness.

  Jude frowned as he watched a young groom walk from the stables to mount an old gelding. The boy strapped the package behind the saddle and set off.

  Something was going on.

  Oh, there was nothing damning in a man sending a post, of course. Jude had sent a letter himself only two days before. But Harry had looked decidedly... furtive. And what did light-hearted Harry have to look furtive about?

  Jude was still worrying over the scene a quarter hour later when the York brothers finally rode into view. He headed straight for the study and paced the length of it, waiting for the men to appear.

  "What news?" he snapped as soon as Edward crossed the threshold. The man shook his head, and Jude cursed.

  "Charles LeMont appears to have been away these past three weeks. He'll return tomorrow."

  "Can you be sure?"

  Edward pushed a hand through his disheveled hair and collapsed into the chair behind his desk. "We spoke to his wife. His sister took ill in Bath, and he went to visit.

  Jude frowned. "And his wife didn't accompany him? That's suspicious."

  Aidan walked in and tossed his coat onto a chair. "She's with child. Four or five months gone, I think. Handsome woman. She seemed eager to help."