Practically Wicked

by Alissa Johnson

  “You’ve a lovely sense of humor, Anna. And, I think, a fondness for silliness.”

  She considered the events of the day and her reactions to them thus far. “It is possible I do.”

  And wasn’t that a fine thing to learn about herself? How very unlike an Ice Maiden.

  “I imagine there was little of it to be found at Anover House,” Max commented.

  She blinked at that, surprised by his insightfulness. “It wasn’t common,” she admitted.

  Her mother’s parties were terrifically obnoxious, nothing more. And Mrs. Culpepper, while a wonderful companion, was simply not a woman inclined to silliness.

  Max nodded in understanding. “My childhood home was the same. I much preferred Caldwell Manor.”

  “Did you spend a great deal of time here?”

  “I did.” He glanced out one of the stable windows at the house. “Even after Lady Engsly passed and Caldwell became a less welcoming place. I still chose it over McMullin Hall.”

  “Did you know the first marchioness well?”

  “As well as a child can, I suppose. I knew she was a marvelous woman, a true lady. She taught me how to laugh at my mistakes rather than define myself by them or turn myself into knots dreading their consequences. And she taught me how to find the humor in every situation…She tried, rather,” he amended. “I was not as gifted a student as Gideon.”

  “I’d say you fare well enough.” It wasn’t every peer of the realm who could laugh at himself for running into a tree. “She was very important to you, the marchioness,” she guessed softly.

  Max didn’t immediately respond except to nod his head once. He turned from the stall and gestured her forward in an invitation to continue their walk. It wasn’t until they were clear of the stable that he spoke again.

  “You asked me once why I tend toward overprotectiveness where Lucien and Gideon are concerned.”

  Anna snuck a sideways glance at his face, but found she couldn’t read his expression. “You said you would tell me another time.”

  He nodded, cleared his throat. “I promised Lady Engsly I would watch over her children. I made that promise to her on her deathbed.”

  He couldn’t have been more than a boy at the time. “That was very selfless of you.”

  “She asked it of me.”

  “Asked it?” That couldn’t be right. “How old were you, exactly?”

  “Not more than thirteen.”

  “Good heavens.” What sort of burden was that to put on a child? Pretty flowerpots or not, the woman was an idiot.

  “You would judge her for it,” Max guessed and shook his head. “Don’t. She didn’t ask for herself, or for her children. She asked it for me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It gave me a purpose,” he explained. “It made me feel…trusted, valuable.”

  “Didn’t you otherwise?”

  “I was the second son of parents who felt they really only needed the first.”

  “They were wrong.” In every way imaginable, they were wrong. “I am sorry your mother and father were not able to see your worth.”

  “Ah, well.” He flashed her a crooked smile. “It’s not an uncommon story, is it? And in hindsight, I know I was valued as a friend by Lucien and Gideon, and as a brother to Beatrice, and even Reginald on occasion. But at the time, I’d felt rather…beside the point. One of Lady Engsly’s last acts was to grant me a sense of importance until I was old enough to find it on my own.”

  “Which you’ve done with aplomb,” Anna teased, thinking that perhaps Lady Engsly’s request had not been wholly idiotic.

  Max grinned at her. “Do you think?”

  She laughed softly as a memory came to her. “Do you recall telling me I had to do what you said because you were a viscount?”

  “Good Lord, no. I assume I shared that gem at Anover House?” He snorted in amusement. “I’m fair surprised you sat with me as long as you did, and that you wanted anything to do with me after. I must have been near unbearable, drunk as I was.”

  “To be honest…I found you adorable. Though I am glad to see you’ve tempered that vice in the years since. That kind of behavior wouldn’t be quite so endearing if it occurred on any sort of regular basis.”

  His footing faltered. “Adorable.”

  “Yes, quite.”

  “I see. I honestly don’t know how I feel about that.” He repeated the word quietly, as if tasting it, then made a face as if he didn’t care for the flavor. “You’ve not shared that sentiment with anyone else, have you?”

  “Only Engsly,” she assured him. “He’s the one who told me you’ve tempered your drinking and—”

  “Only Engsly? Good God, woman.” He let out a pained laugh. “Between the tree and your professed opinions of me, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  He’d never hear the start of it, as she was lying. It was just so much more fun to watch him squirm than it was to speak of deathbed promises and heartless parents.

  “Adorable?” he asked again, slanting her a pleading look. “Truly?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Not handsome? Or dashing? Or wickedly charming?”

  Oh, yes. “Sorry, no.”

  “Devilishly rakish?”

  “You just ran into a tree.”

  “Right.” He reached out and gently caught her elbow, stopping them in a small copse of trees where they were hidden from view of the house. His eyes settled on her, determined, and he took a purposeful step forward. “Right, then.”

  Before she could utter a word, he slipped an arm around her, strong and sure, and pulled her close.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, the question being, of course, entirely rhetorical. A blind man could see what he was about.

  He bent his head, a wicked smile playing at his lips. “Remedying a misconception,” he whispered.

  And then he was kissing her, his mouth moving over hers in gentle demand.

  It didn’t occur to Anna to pretend maidenly affront. It might be wrong, irresponsible, and reckless, but in that moment, she didn’t care…unexpected or not, the kiss was welcome.

  Rather than pull away, she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him back.

  And she thought, This is wonderful. It was even better than the kiss in the nursery, because it was a kiss she’d never thought to have again. And of course, because sobriety and four years of maturing had changed Max from a boy who could turn over a girl’s heart with charm and sweetness to a man who could devastate a woman with confidence and skill.

  Anna grabbed handfuls of his coat and pulled him closer. She felt wicked and free and terribly impatient. As wonderful as the kiss was, she wanted more. She wanted him closer, his grip tighter, her hands moving over him faster. And she rather thought she was going to get what she wanted, which was why she was stunned when Max pulled his lips from her suddenly. He squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers briefly dug into her shoulders, and then he released her and stepped away.

  Anna stayed where she was, breathless and dazed while Max planted his hands on his hips and bowed his head in the manner of one catching his breath.

  She licked her lips, found them pleasantly tender. “Why did you stop?”

  His gaze snapped up, hard and disbelieving. “You’d rather I hadn’t?”

  Yes. No. “I don’t know.”

  He swore softly. “I’d rather I hadn’t.”

  Then why the devil had he? “Well—”

  “You should return to the house.”

  “I…” She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her head. Had she done something wrong? Was he already regretting the kiss? “Are you sorry?”

  He looked taken aback by the question. “I’ll beg your pardon, if you feel it’s necessary—”

  “No, not that sort of sorry.”

  “Oh. No.” His features softened, just a little. “No, love. I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry in any sense of the word.”

  “Good.” She squared her shoulders, tip
ped up her chin. “Good. Because I’m not either.” And to prove it, she stepped forward and gave him a soft peck on the cheek.

  She felt him go taut and still. His breath was hot against her cheek as the moment stretched out and the tension between them built anew. “It’s time for you to go, Anna.”

  Pulling back, she took a careful look at him. His jaw was locked tight, his nostrils were flared, his breathing had not yet fully settled. He was, she realized, still quite wound up. And God forgive her, she liked knowing it.

  Damned right he wasn’t sorry about kissing her.

  His eyes dropped to her mouth and stayed there. “Go inside now, Anna.”

  She nodded. She didn’t want to leave, particularly, but if Max needed time alone, she could surely grant him that courtesy.

  “Until this evening, then,” she murmured and, with one last smile, turned and left.

  Max stared at Anna’s retreating back and thought that this was what it meant to regret one’s ambitions.

  He was acquiring Anna’s trust and friendship, just as he’d hoped. But they were coming along faster than anticipated, which was both a pleasant surprise and a worrisome development. He wasn’t completely certain what he wanted from her yet. Nor did he have the slightest idea what she hoped to gain from him. And until he had a firm grasp of expectations, it was madness to continue forward at their current pace.

  He was no longer five-and-twenty, foxed, angry at the world, and willing to propose after a half hour’s acquaintance.

  He was now nine-and-twenty, completely sober, and ready to pull a lady down on the grass like a maniac. Then propose to her.

  Max dragged a hand through his hair. They needed time, the both of them. There was no need to rush things along. He wasn’t off for the continent with his regiment. She wasn’t besieged by suitors and marriage proposals.

  He wasn’t a bloody maniac.

  But damn if he didn’t love the taste of her mouth and that tantalizing warmth that had seeped through her gown to his hands. The rush of desire that had come the moment he’d touched her had taken him by surprise. The wave of need that followed had nearly swamped his control.

  Max rolled the tension out of his shoulders. He didn’t like losing control.

  A little time and space to think things through before he pressed forward, that’s what he needed. Two or three days to clear his mind and plan a sensible course of action.

  Probably just the two, he decided, watching the seductive sway of Anna’s hips as she climbed the terrace steps. He wasn’t planning a military campaign, after all. Two days was plenty. More than, really.

  Anna glanced over her shoulder just once, before disappearing inside the house.

  Maybe one day was long enough. A solid twenty-four hours. That way, he’d miss dinner and two morning strolls. It was ample time to work things through to his satisfaction and, hopefully, everyone’s benefit.

  At the very least, it was time enough to shore up what was left of his self-control.

  Chapter 14

  Anna patiently waited for Max outside the next morning, until pride told her it was time to go. Then she waited a little longer. Which was a mistake, because by the time she finally left without him, she wasn’t merely disappointed that he’d not come, but also a bit put out with herself for having set such store by his company to start.

  How foolish it was for her to have assumed Max would come. How foolish to feel so disappointed. They’d not officially made plans to meet. He’d not promised to walk with her every morning. Just as he’d not promised to attend meals.

  He’d not come to dinner the night before, and Lucien had made only a cursory excuse for him. Max, she was told, was attending to business. Anna thought it distinctly unfair that a gentleman could get out of nearly any activity with the excuse of business. But she’d tried not to take Max’s absence, or the irritating explanation given for that absence, personally.

  It was difficult not to take his absence personally that morning. When a man avoided a woman after kissing her, it was unlikely to be anything but personal.

  Unless, of course, he was simply being sensible. They both knew perfectly well that nothing could come of their growing attraction. He was still a viscount and she was still a courtesan’s daughter. They were no more suitable for each other than they had been four years ago.

  Maybe, in keeping his distance, he was being mindful of that fact and of her (admittedly questionable) reputation.

  She’d really rather he wouldn’t. God’s truth, she wanted to be reckless. Just a little. Just while she was at Caldwell and just with Max. She’d spent her whole life being the Ice Maiden and she had the rest of her life to spend as a hopeless old maid. Right now, she wanted to be…she just wanted to be kissing Max Dane. And, more than anything, she wanted him to want that back.

  How ironic that after years of wishing there were more gentlemen in her life, she now found herself wishing there was just one rogue.

  Feeling dejected, but nonetheless determined to make the most of her morning, she stopped by the stable and peeked in on a sleeping Hermia before setting off to begin her stroll in proper. She’d not made it far, just to the end of the field where she and Max had played with Hermia the day before when she heard an odd, high-pitched laughter coming through the woods.

  Anna stopped and cocked her head, trying to determine why it sounded so strange to her. The cadence of it was off, maybe, or the…

  “Oh, no. No, no, no.” It wasn’t laughter she was hearing, it was the broken cries of a child. Horrified, she swiveled on her heel, cupped her hands around her mouth, and yelled back at the stable. “Help! I need help! In the trees!”

  Praying someone had heard her but unwilling to wait and find out, Anna picked up her skirts and dashed into the trees, following the sound of the cries. Brush and branches caught at her dress and skin, slowing her down. More than once she tripped over exposed roots, nearly losing her footing. But at last, the woods opened again to pasture and, more immediately, a large pond.

  At the center of that pond was a small girl. Visible only from the shoulders up, she was desperately clinging to a rectangular bit of wood and rope that may, or may not, have been the remnants of a raft. Only a portion of it could be seen above the waterline.

  As Anna rushed closer, the child caught sight of her, and her young face became a heartbreaking mixture of terror and hope.

  “Help me! Please! I can’t swim! I can’t swim!”

  “Yes! Yes, I’m coming! It’s all right!”

  Anna reached the edge of the water and came to a sliding stop. The girl was in the very middle of the pond. Damn it, she’d no idea how deep the water might be. With an oath, she spun around again, her eyes scanning the ground in front of the trees.

  “Don’t leave me!” The child’s voice took on a new edge of panic as Anna turned her back on the pond, searching. “Don’t! Help me!”

  “I’m coming! I’m coming, hold on just a moment longer!”

  “I can’t!”

  Anna glanced over her shoulder. From the looks of it, she could. The top of the girl’s blonde curls weren’t wet. But she’d not have much longer than that moment. Whatever the child had been using to stay afloat was quickly disappearing below the water.

  Damn it, where…? “Yes!”

  She found what she needed at the edge of the woods. A long, sturdy tree branch, still light enough for her to move. Half carrying, half dragging her find, she raced back to the pond and straight into the water.

  The cool temperature of the water scarcely registered, but the weight of it was impossible to ignore as it saturated her skirts and they pulled her down. Her feet sank into the muddy bottom of the pond. She lost one slipper, then the other. The branch floated atop the water, but it was a struggle, towing it behind her.

  Her progress was maddeningly slow, and the farther she made it, the more the resistance of water and mud slowed her pace. It reached her waist, her chest, her shoulders, her neck, and then the b
ottom seemed to drop away.

  “Bloody hell.”

  Just as Anna had feared, the water grew too deep for her to reach the child. One more step and she’d be in over her head.

  But the child wasn’t far, perhaps six feet away, and Anna could see that she was very young indeed, no more than seven or eight. The raft was almost entirely submerged now, and the girl was struggling to keep her hands on one slippery corner and her chin above the water.

  Anna dragged the branch around and pushed it out before her.

  Please reach. Please, God. Please, please, please let it reach.

  The end of the branch stopped only inches short of touching the girl.

  “Yes!” Anna felt a wash of hope. “Grab hold!”

  The girl turned panicked eyes from the branch to Anna. “Help me!”

  “Grab hold, love. It’s all right.”

  “No!” The girl stretched one arm out toward Anna instead. “Help me!”

  Damn it. Anna tried leaning forward, pushing the branch closer, but it was no use. “I can’t reach you! You must grab the branch. You can do it. Go on.”

  Sobbing, the child threw out a small hand, grasping wildly, and somehow managed to take hold of the branch. “I have it! I have it!”

  “There’s a girl! Now take a deep breath, grab hold with both hands, and hold tight!”

  By some miracle, the girl did exactly as she was told. Anna sent up a prayer the girl’s grip was tight, then pulled on the branch. The child pushed away from the raft at the same time, and the sudden weight on the branch took Anna by surprise. For one terrifying moment, it threatened to pull her over the unseen precipice at her feet, but she was able to shift her weight and regain her balance in time. And then it was but a few pulls of the branch and the child was in grasping distance at last.

  Anna grabbed the little girl’s hand and pulled her into her arms. If she’d had the breath for it, she would have shouted with joy and relief. “There we are. Oh, there we are, darling. I have you.”

  Wiry arms wrapped around her neck and held fast. If the girl said anything, it couldn’t be heard over the sputtering and sobbing, and the sound of Anna’s name being shouted from the shore.