A Little Bit Wild

by Victoria Dahl

  Marissa's grin froze. "Pardon?"

  "Nothing wrong with a little slap and tickle, girl. But you've got to be a bit more circumspect. Girls were more clever in my day. I was beginning to think your wits as ill-used as your virtue."

  "I... Aunt Ophelia... Pardon?"

  But the old woman just slumped back into her nap. Marissa was about to shake her silly when she was stopped by a hand curling over her shoulder. Still dumbfounded, Marissa looked up to find Jude smiling down at her. She spared one last confused look for Aunt Ophelia before rising.

  "Jude," she said, managing an uncertain smile.

  "My father," he murmured as he turned her around to face the duke.

  Marissa shook off her shock and offered a curtsy. "Your Grace," she said, feeling a more genuine grin stretch her mouth. She'd met the duke the night before, but she was still surprised by the sight of him. The Duke of Winthrop, one of the loftiest peers in England, looked exactly like Jude.

  She blushed when she considered how many times she'd thought of Jude as a groundsman or blacksmith. What a fool she'd been. The duke was not as tall as Jude, nor quite as solid, but there was no denying dial Jude had inherited the man's face, right down to the wide mouth and square jaw.

  The duke teased her for her blush, and she let him think she was shy and nervous, though Jude watched the exchange with an incredulous expression.

  "Just a moment, m'dear," the duke said, patting her hand. "I've a surprise for you, if only I could find him."

  When his father turned away, Jude leaned in close to brush his lips against her ear. "You'd think," he murmured, "after loving a woman like my mother, he'd be able to recognize a wicked woman when he saw one."

  Grinning, Marissa raised up on her toes so that Jude's mouth would rest against her neck. He obliged her with a little nibble, then called her a distracting wanton and stepped away. She was still smiling when the Duke returned with a young gentleman in tow.

  "Look who arrived just in time for the ceremony!"

  "Melbourne!" Jude responded, dapping the newcomer on the back.

  "Please," the duke continued, "Allow me to present my son, Viscount Melbourne, soon enough the duke himself, I don't doubt."

  "Father," the man said flatly.

  "Melbourne, I'm pleased to introduce you to your new sister, Mrs. Marissa Bertrand."

  She curtsied deeply, studying him through her lashes as he bowed. This son must look like his mother. He was handsome enough. And elegant. And Marissa wished for nothing more than to send him away so that Jude could do a bit more nibbling.

  But she managed to be gracious as she spoke with both gentlemen for ten minutes. The whole crowd watched the exchange. Half were likely curious about the relationship between Jude and his father. The other half were taking note that the young viscount would someday need a wife.

  If they knew that Jude and Marissa were sailing to France before their honeymoon in Italy, there'd be even more talk. A duke was one thing, but a French courtesan was even more interesting. Or so Marissa thought, anyway.

  While Jude and his brother were reminiscing about something decidedly male—a fishing hole of some sort—there was a grand flourish of violins, and Marissa looked up to find her mother gesturing furiously from the potted ferns that hid the orchestra.

  "Jude, I believe we're wanted."

  "Ah, yes. That plant does seem excessively eager. Pardon us, Father. Melbourne."

  They emerged from the ferns a minute later, flanked by a cadre of cherubs. Edward, who was in the midst of introducing them to the crowd, choked and stumbled to a halt when he saw the great flock of wings. Marissa wished she could simply disappear into the floor, but Jude appeared to be greatly enjoying himself. She elbowed him several times, but his grin never faltered.

  As he refused to share her humiliation, Marissa distracted herself by looking over the crowd. Beth and her cousin were right at the front, and Mr. Dunwoody, that fickle idiot, stood at Nanette's side, smiling down at her. Interestingly enough, Cousin Harry stood at Beth's side. Marissa would have thought nothing of it, if not for their recent conversation.

  Before she could ponder it further, the room erupted into applause at the last of her brother's words, and the flock of cherubs ushered Jude and Marissa out to the dance floor.

  Marissa threw off her thoughts, ignored the loose feathers floating in the air, and put her arms around her husband.

  "No regrets yet?" he asked as they stepped into the music of the waltz.

  "Aside from my fear that I'll slip on an angel feather and break my neck, no regrets at all. And you?"

  "You know I've wanted this from the moment we met."

  "When did we first meet?" she teased him.

  She'd only been joking, but Jude's face turned intent when he looked down at her. "Aidan had dragged me here for some hunting. I don't care for the hunt, but I came along anyway. And when I walked into the music room, there you were, dancing with your cousin. You smiled at something he said, and then you caught sight of some gentleman walking past, and all your bright prettiness turned wicked and warm."

  "Stop," she laughed.

  "It's true. And I thought to myself, there is a woman who wants pleasure."

  'Jude!" She blushed and slapped his arm; then she realized that the whole crowd chuckled in response. They were being watched. "You're awful," she whispered.

  "Perhaps. But I was right, wasn't I?"

  Finally, a few other couples joined them in the waltz, and Marissa could lean a little closer to her husband. "I do want pleasure," she answered. "Badly."

  "Wench. Don't tease."

  "But I've so yearned for a good ride these past weeks."

  Jude groaned and glared around the room. "How many dances must we grant them?"

  "No more than three, I should think."

  "Excellent."

  Marissa watched Mr. Dunwoody as he hurried by with a glass of punch. He looked... delicate and weak-chinned. The thought made her smile.

  Jude leaned in close again. "Once we are established, I shall have to hire pretty footmen to entertain your eye."

  "What? I wasn't ogling anyone." "Mm-hm."

  "I wasn't! Anyway, I thought you were a jealous man now."

  He pulled back to smile down at her. "No. I'm not jealous anymore. Look as much as you like. Just touching, if you please."

  "Ah. The same goes for you, husband."

  "I have no need to look at other women," he said with a cocky smile.

  "We'll see. In a few years' time, you may Find yourself yearning for a glimpse of a real bosom. Or two."

  Jude threw back his head and laughed so loudly that the whole ballroom paused to look. Every smile was happily indulgent.

  "Your bosom," he finally said, "is more than enough for me."

  "What a meager appetite you must have," Marissa murmured. "By the way, if I'm not mistaken, I believe Aunt Ophelia just called me a witless tart."

  Jude must have assumed she was joking, because he only shook his head as if he didn't understand the joke. Oh, well. Marissa didn't understand it either.

  They were in the midst of their second dance when Marissa saw that Beth was dancing with Harry and that Harry had put on his most charming smile. Was he following through with his thoughts on courting one of the Samuel girls? Marissa's heart cheered with happiness that Beth might someday he her cousin. She would not marry some man from the south and disappear for months at a time.

  But there was a shadow to that thought as well. Harry did not love Beth, and Marissa wanted Beth to be happy.

  "Do you think," she whispered to Jude, "that a marriage might be happy if two people are not in love?"

  "This is a bad time to bring that up, sweet wife."

  "I was speaking of someone else."

  "Well then... I'm not sure. I'd hoped that if we married, you would come to love me. I think it does happen. I saw Charles LeMont and his wife in Grantham the other day."

  "You did? Did she run away weeping, I
hope?"

  Jude rolled his eyes. "They didn't see me. But they looked happy. Very happy."

  "I suppose I should be thankful for myself, at least."

  "Be thankful for her," Jude said softly.

  "Yes, I think you're right. I'll be thankful for her and for Charles." Jude was such a good man. She fought the urge to lay her head on his chest. Not yet. Not till much later.

  When the dance ended, Marissa headed straight to Beth to tease her about Harry. "Your cousin has always been so kind to me," Beth responded with nary a hint of pink in her cheeks.

  "Mm. He has a thousand pounds a year, you know. He shall make someone a good husband someday."

  "He will indeed. Such a thoughtful man."

  But Beth wasn't paying any attention at all. She was too busy frowning at Mr. Dunwoody, who was too busy fawning over Nanette to notice Beth's stare. One of the cherubs wandered up to pretend to shoot an arrow at Mr. Dunwoody's, heart. Wretched little feathered beast.

  Marissa spotted Edward walking toward her and latched on to the distraction. "Ah, there is my brother looking far too serious, as usual. Have you danced with him yet, Beth?"

  "Aidan? No, but he promised to find me later."

  "I meant Edward," Marissa said, as her brother stepped up.

  And then something very odd happened. Her friend jumped as if she'd just been poked, and her eyes flew to Edward. As Edward was leaning close to Marissa to complain about the cherubs, Beth's face turned a miserable shade of red.

  "No, not him," she answered too loudly.

  Edward looked up. "I apologize. I've interrupted your conversation."

  "No!" Beth yelped. "It's nothing!"

  "Edward," Marissa drawled. "You must dance with Miss Samuel tonight. Have a little merriment."

  An eerie peacock cry drifted above the music, and Edward scowled. "Yes, of course," he muttered, then offered a little bow in Beth's direction. "I believe there is a quadrille coming up. I hope you'll do me the honor, Miss Samuel."

  Beth stared at him, mouth agape, and didn't offer a response, but Edward was too distracted to notice. "Pardon me. I believe I just saw a peacock wander down that corridor."

  "Inside?" Marissa gasped, craning her neck toward the doorway. She narrowed her eyes, wondering if this had been part of her mother's plan all along. It seemed highly likely. A few shrieking ladies would add to the excitement of the ball, and why not add a few colorful feathers to the down already floating above the dancers?

  "My mother has truly—" But when Marissa swung back toward Belli, she found that her friend had vanished.

  Marissa stood there, too puzzled to move. Surely Beth's reaction had been decidedly odd. She tried to think of other strained moments between her friend and Edward, but she could picture nothing. No interaction at all, which was even stranger than Beth's blush.

  Before she could formulate a theory, Marissa was accosted from behind. The brief touch of a warm mouth on her neck identified the man at her back.

  "Time for our third dance," he whispered, and Marissa felt her cheeks heat. The riddle of Beth's awkwardness would have to wait until after tonight. After her honeymoon, even. She turned to Jude and happily took the hand he offered. In a few moments, they'd be in their bedchamber with no mysteries to solve, no wandering birds, and no angel feathers floating between them.

  Heaven.

  No feathers awaited them, but there were rose petals. Everywhere.

  "Mm," Marissa sighed as she peeled a petal off Jude's stomach and planted a kiss there. "You smell so pretty."

  "I ..." His breath hitched when she placed another kiss lower down. ". . . endeavor to please. As always."

  "I admit," she breathed against the faint path of hair beneath his navel, "I was convinced the roses were my mother's doing. I didn't suspect you at all."

  "I... only wanted to ..."

  "Relax, my love," she drawled. "Breathe." She touched her lips tentatively to the head of his manhood and smiled at the way his breath went ragged. It ceased altogether when she licked him. He tasted... warm. And friendly.

  She smiled at the thought and tasted him a few more times to be sure. Yes, definitely friendly.

  Marissa wasn't quite sure how to go about this. It seemed a very different task than when Jude had offered his own scandalous kisses during her last stolen visit. But when she closed her mouth over his shaft he made a sound of tortured pleasure, and his hips jerked toward her.

  Oh, my. Delighted—and horribly aroused— Marissa took him deeper into her mouth, marveling at how smooth he was on her tongue. This was pure wickedness, and she was well aware of the wetness between her thighs as she slid her mouth down his cock. When she drew up and then took him deep again, Jude moaned. The sound was like a hand stroking her sex, and Marissa moaned as well. Every slide of his shaft over her tongue made her wiggle with eager arousal. He grew larger as she sucked.

  "Christ," Jude murmured, and she looked up to see him watching, eyes narrowed in fierce concentration. "Come here, love," he whispered.

  She ignored him, taking him deep into her mouth again, but he slid his hand into her hair to stop her.

  "I have grander plans for our wedding night. If I spend like this—"

  She licked her lips. "Oh, can you do that?"

  Jude groaned and let his head fall to the pillow. "You will ruin me with happy looks like that."

  "But you must let me—"

  He pulled her to his chest and kissed her. "Yes, I will let you, cheeky girl. Tomorrow. Or later tonight? But not now. Now, I want to .. ."

  His hands stroked down her arse, and when his fingers delved into the seam of her body, Marissa pressed her hips into his cock with a moan of need.

  "God, but you're wet," he whispered. "Already."

  "I liked doing that," she confessed. She felt a shudder run through his body.

  Jude rolled her to her back and covered her, kissing her with such an intensity that he stole her breath away. But when he entered her in one merciless thrust, she gasped in a desperate gulp of air.

  "I love you," she whispered as she wound a hand into his hair. "Forever."

  Here, in their bed, Jude was a man, and she was a woman, and there was no thought of gentility or elegance or society. Out there, her life might he shallow and pretty. Here, they were base and honest and wild together. And Marissa would not regret that in a thousand years.

  Here, Jude was beautiful, and she was the beast that would devour him if she could.

  "Forever," he whispered back, and it was the prettiest thing she'd ever heard.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25