The Holiday Hussy (When the Wallflowers were Wicked Book 11)

by Merry Farmer

  The surprise of being impaled without warning only added to the deep, thundering pleasure as he moved inside of her. He braced himself on the bed and thrust into her hard and fast. There was no doubt at all that he was claiming her as fiercely as any warrior had ever claimed a woman as his own, and within seconds, Alice teetered on the edge of ecstasy. She was wicked to love the way he used her, without mercy but with so much pleasure. A proper young lady would blush and weep at the brutish way he took her. But it felt so good that she throbbed into orgasm in short order, not caring if she was a shameless wanton for loving the way he mastered her.

  Moments later, Fabian cried out as he spilled himself inside of her. His thrusts slowed, but the intensity of sensuality and the heat between them barely lessened. He climbed fully onto the bed with her, shifting her into his arms and entwining their sweating bodies in a knot that no one, not even her father, could untangle.

  “Never doubt that I want you,” he panted, brushing his hands over her sides and breasts as though they were just getting started instead of finishing. “You’ve endeared yourself to me in so many ways, including this one.”

  “I meant it when I said I never want to be with another man for the rest of my life,” she said, as breathless as he was. “You can do anything you want to me, use me in any way you see fit. I love it and I—” She hesitated, uncertain whether she wanted to lay herself completely bare. A heartbeat later, she knew she did. “I love you,” she said.

  He tensed for a moment before relaxing, like a flag unfurling. “Darling,” he said, rolling her to her back and cradling her breast. “I love you too.”

  Alice smiled, feeling safe and at peace for the first time in so long she couldn’t remember. Everything would work out the way it should after all.

  “Now,” Fabian continued, mischief back in his eyes. “Let’s see how many times I can make you come before we’re too exhausted to move.”

  Chapter 8

  For the second time within a week, Fabian awoke with Alice nestled in his arms. He grinned and shifted to cradle her body more fully with his, deep contentment infusing him. The first, cold rays of December light, the dawning of Christmas Eve day, peeked through the gaps in the heavy curtains covering his windows. The fire in the grate crackled merrily, hinting that the maid had crept in to light the fire earlier. The bed was toasty and comfortable, and Fabian counted himself the luckiest man in the world.

  He nuzzled against Alice’s hair, which had been taken down after their first round of love-making and now rested in soft waves across the pillow and her shoulders. He stroked a hand along her side, loving the soft warmth of her curves. She smelled of heaven itself—the fading scent of perfume, the salt of her skin, and a hint of musk leftover from their night together. She’d been mind-bogglingly experimental and free with her sexuality. He’d gotten carried away and was more demanding of her than he should have been, but Alice had seemed to enjoy their bedsport as much as he had.

  A man could do much worse for himself when it came to marrying. One more day and he and Alice would be joined forever in the sight of God and man.

  He had just circled his hand around to her belly and was debating starting the morning by stroking her into orgasm when an urgent knock sounded on his door.

  “Fabian.” Matthew’s voice was as serious as the grave. “Wake up and look lively.”

  A deep frown creased Fabian’s brow and he was tempted to shout all sorts of profanities at his friend, but sense took over. Matthew wouldn’t interrupt a perfect morning unless something had happened.

  “What’s going on?” Alice asked, coming awake slowly. She twisted to her back and slowly pushed herself to sit, rubbing her eyes. She made no effort to keep the bedcovers from sliding down to her waist, exposing her glorious breasts.

  Fabian sat as well, fighting to resist the urge to ogle her beautiful form or to forget about whatever Matthew was trying to warn him of to make love to her again. “Something must have happened,” he said instead, scooting to the edge of the bed and standing.

  Alice made a giggling sound of delight, and when Fabian glanced back at her, she was grinning at him and looking like the perfect picture of a debauched woman. Her hair was disheveled, her skin flush with desire, and her eyes sleepy with satiety and a hint of eagerness for more. Fabian couldn’t help but turn abruptly and walk back to the bed.

  He leaned over to kiss her soundly, grabbing the headboard and pressing her back against it. “I wish there were time for me to thoroughly ravish you again,” he said, his body urging him on and his cock stiffening. “As of tomorrow, I won’t let anything or anyone keep me from burying myself deep within you as often as I’d like.”

  Alice hummed low in her throat, circling her arms around his neck. “I’ll be yours to command,” she said. “Patience truly does have its rewards.”

  He kissed her one final time, then pulled away and set to work washing and dressing as fast as possible. Alice dragged herself out of bed and made an attempt to tidy herself and dress as well. They made only minimal progress before another knock sounded at the door.

  “Fabian, you’re needed at once.” This time it was Georgette’s voice that drifted conspiratorially through the door. “And Alice, if you’re in there, hurry back to your room with all haste. It…it may already be too late.”

  Fabian’s brow shot up at the direness in Georgette’s warning. He exchanged a glance with Alice, who had gone slightly pale. There was less shock in her expression than there was dread, as if she knew what kind of horror awaited them.

  They checked themselves one final time to be certain they were presentable, then Fabian crossed to the door and peeked into the hall.

  “It’s clear,” he said, gesturing for Alice to come forward.

  She skipped over to him and took his hand, and they proceeded into the hall. It would likely be as damning for them to be seen together so early in the morning, slipping quietly through the upstairs halls, as it would have been for anyone to walk in on them in the throes of passion the night before, but Fabian no longer cared. Alice would be his wife in just over twenty-four hours, and she needed his protection. There was no doubt in his mind that whatever was afoot in the house, her father had something to do with it.

  As it turned out, he was right, but not in a way he expected.

  “Thieves,” his mother said, fury in her eyes, as he and Alice joined the rest of the family in the breakfast room. “Our house has been infiltrated with thieves.”

  Prickles raced down Fabian’s back as he let go of Alice’s hand to cross to his mother and greet her with a kiss to her cheek. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lord Stanhope move from the spot where he’d been standing at the side of the room—a spot that seemed designed to allow him to be unobtrusive while observing everything—and over to Alice’s side. Fabian wanted to rush to Alice and defend her against whatever evil her father was planning, but his mother had already gripped his arm with worried desperation and was looking at him for help.

  “What has been stolen?” he asked, shifting so that he could address his mother and still keep a full eye on Alice.

  “All manner of things,” his mother said. “Jewels that were removed from our guests throughout the night, valuable objects throughout the house, and even a purse that was taken from Lord Aylesbury’s room.”

  “The items are small,” the duke added, coming to stand by Fabian’s mother’s side, “but taken together, they are of considerable value.”

  “It chills me to the bone to think that we have somehow allowed a thief into our midst,” his mother said, letting go of Fabian and clinging to her husband’s arm instead. “Who could have done such a thing?”

  Fabian was certain he knew exactly who could do it. But when he turned a sharp glare to Lord Stanhope, he found the bastard clutching Alice’s arm, hissing something in her ear. Alice had gone white and leaned away from her father, but it was clear he wouldn’t let her go anywhere.

  Alice’s heart felt a
s heavy as a stone as it sank into her stomach. She never should have left Fabian’s side. She should have followed him when he approached his mother. Now, with her father’s hands clamped around her arm, she felt well and truly trapped.

  “I will not let that bitch, Lady Georgette, humiliate me this way,” her father growled into her ear. “She had a fiancé waiting for her all along. The engagement was announced late in the ball last night.” He paused. “I noticed you were absent.”

  “I…I’d gone to bed,” Alice whispered, peeking sideways to where Fabian was talking with his mother and the duke.

  “Yes, you had,” her father said, lasciviousness thick in his tone. The way he looked at her made Alice’s skin crawl. “Fortunately, your whoring will help me in the long run.”

  “I…it will?” She gulped. Anything that her father thought would help him was not good for her.

  “I’d thought to wed you to Lord Farnsworth,” her father went on, bitterness lacing his voice. “But when I approached him about the match, he put me off. Said his intentions lay elsewhere.”

  A strange and paradoxical feeling of relief washed through Alice, but only for a moment. Her father looked too pleased for that to be all there was.

  “Fortunately, I have been working on another means of securing a fortune,” he said. “And as soon as you are free from your obligations toward Count Camoni, I can look for a higher bidder to marry you off to.”

  “But Fabian and I are to marry tomorrow,” Alice said, her voice and her heart failing her.

  “I plan to take care of that,” her father growled.

  Fabian turned to check on her at just that moment. He stepped away from his mother and the duke and marched toward her with the look of an avenging angel.

  A spring of hope welled up within Alice, but it was squashed when her father said, “I have your thief right here.” He gripped her wrist hard and dragged her toward the duke and duchess.

  Dread swirled in Alice’s stomach, and she thought she might be sick. “I didn’t steal anything,” she tried to defend herself in a small, pitiful voice.

  “The thief is my wicked daughter,” her father charged on. “She is a thief and a whore.”

  “I’ll thank you not to insult my fiancée,” Fabian growled, moving until he stood toe-to-toe with Alice’s father, towering over him with his full, intimidating height.

  “I doubt you’ll want her after what I can tell you,” her father went on, a sly grin stretching across his wicked face. “Even though you’ve already had her.”

  A few of the guests who sat around the breakfast table but hadn’t, until then, been a part of the conversation gasped and stared at Alice with wide eyes. The duke scowled and the duchess looked thoroughly scandalized. She marched up to Fabian’s side, indignation in her eyes, and asked, “What is the meaning of this?”

  “I can explain, Mother,” Fabian said.

  “My daughter is your thief, and she has thrown herself at your son in the basest possible ways,” Alice’s father blurted before Fabian could go on.

  “Fabian, is this true?” the duchess asked.

  A flush painted Fabian’s face and he appeared to be at a loss for words. “Alice is not a thief,” he said at last.

  “She is a deceiving whore who has fooled you all,” her father went on, staring particularly at Fabian. “I only regret that I introduced her into your life. I should have known that she could not be reformed.”

  “Alice is a good and sweet woman,” Fabian argued, turning to his mother. “Her father has used and abused her and her sisters for years now. He married, or at least attempted to marry, her sisters for his own financial aim. He targeted me as someone who could enrich him, and the moment he thought I was no longer solvent, he tried to involve Matthew in his schemes.”

  “It’s true,” Lord Farnsworth said, stepping forward.

  “I would never dream of importuning such a lofty and noble family in such a way,” Alice’s father insisted, looking genuinely offended. “I hold your entire family in highest esteem.”

  “You have sought to scheme and cheat us at every turn,” Fabian insisted.

  His mother and the duke appeared completely flummoxed, glancing from Fabian to Alice’s father in turn as each one spoke, as if they didn’t know who to believe.

  “If you think I am being anything but earnest with you,” Alice’s father went on, “then search my daughter’s room. Turn it upside down and go through all of her things. I think you’ll find exactly the proof you need there.”

  The duke glanced to one of the footmen that hovered near the door, eyes wide. The young man turned and dashed from the room.

  “And as for my daughter’s low moral character,” her father went on with a sniff, looking Alice up and down with a sneer. “You will notice she is still dressed in the same gown she wore to the ball and her appearance is damning.”

  Alice glanced down at herself, her heart sinking lower than it had already gone. She looked a fright. Anyone with eyes and a brain could see she’d spent the night in Fabian’s arms.

  “Investigate Count Camoni’s bedchamber if you don’t believe me,” her father went on.

  “There is no need to investigate anything,” Fabian cut in with a booming voice before her father could add anything else. He turned to his mother with an apologetic look. “It is true, Mama. Lady Alice and I have anticipated our vows. But seeing as our wedding is to take place tomorrow morning—”

  “I would be shocked if you considered going ahead with plans to see your son and my daughter married,” Alice’s father interrupted. “I cannot believe that someone of your rank and visibility would consent to have a thief and a whore in your family.”

  Again, the guests whose breakfast had turned into the circus they were witnessing gasped and stared at Alice. She had never felt so humiliated in her life.

  “My son and his betrothed would not be the first couple to anticipate their vows,” the duchess began slowly.

  “You would connect your family with a thief?” Alice’s father feigned utter horror at the idea. And the emotion was feigned. Alice had known her father too long to doubt his playacting. There was too much of a glimmer of triumph in his eyes, too much glee that he was the center of attention and he was getting his way.

  “Alice is not a thief,” Fabian insisted. “And I will not abandon her when she needs me the most, particularly if that means this monster will continue to hold sway over her.”

  “Oh, dear,” the duchess said, studying Alice, then Fabian, then looking to her husband for help. “I don’t know what to do. I suppose—”

  “We found it, my lady.” The footman who had darted out of the room such a short time ago returned, holding up what appeared to be a priceless brooch. He skittered to a stop just inside the breakfast room, eyes bright, but seeming to remember his place. He quickly stood at attention.

  “What have you found?” the duke asked, approaching him.

  “This brooch, my lord.” The footman handed over the brooch. “It was in a box on the mantel. Mr. Davies has the rest of the staff turning Lady Alice’s room inside out to find more.”

  “You see?” Alice’s father asked with a look of triumph. “I told you she was a thief.”

  The duchess looked genuinely distressed. The duke turned to glower at Alice. Fabian appeared equally furious, but his glare was for Alice’s father.

  Alice sagged in defeat. “You put that there,” she told her father, knowing it wouldn’t do a lick of good. “I saw you put something in that box on my mantel the other day. You’re laying blame at my feet on purpose.” Her words weren’t an accusation. She was too exhausted, too defeated to accuse him of anything. All hope left her. There was no way she would escape his clutches now. The duchess had proof that she was everything her father had accused her of being.

  “This is impossible,” Fabian said, coming to her defense all the same. “I believe Alice when she says her father planted the brooch in her room.”

  “
You think I’m the thief?” Alice’s father demanded, his face going red.

  “No one accused you, Lord Stanhope,” Lord Farnsworth said. “But if you are accusing yourself….”

  “I am no such thing,” Alice’s father snapped. “Search my rooms. Search all of my things. You will find nothing that does not belong to me.”

  “Surely, you have hidden it all somewhere else,” Fabian growled.

  “How dare you accost me so?” Her father continued to act out his innocence to a ridiculous degree. “I should take my daughter and leave this house at once.”

  “No,” Alice yelped, leaping toward Fabian. He caught her with one arm and held her close.

  “Enough of this,” the duke boomed, silencing everyone. He glanced to his wife.

  The duchess chewed her lip, studying Alice and her father, Fabian, the footman, and even Lord Farnsworth. “I don’t know what to believe,” she said at last. “Lady Alice has always seemed pleasant and affable to me. But if she has been with my son….” She pressed her lips shut and shook her head. “I cannot make any decision now. More evidence needs to be collected.”

  “More?” Alice’s father demanded, as if all his efforts to lay a trap hadn’t been enough.

  The duchess glanced to him with a frown, then to Fabian and Alice. “I will give you until the end of the day to disprove the accusations of theft made against Lady Alice, and to find the true thief, if possible. But if you cannot come up with an explanation for stolen items being found in her room—”

  “Lord Stanhope planted the brooch there, you heard Alice,” Fabian growled.

  “—then I will have no choice but to insist the engagement be called off,” his mother continued, holding up her hands. She sent her son a sympathetic look. “I am thinking of you and you alone, my dear. If this truly is some sort of ploy to embarrass all of us, then I cannot allow it.”