One Wicked Wish by Anna Campbell
Chapter 9
Stella stretched out in her extravagant bed, jittery with nerves and excitement. The room was dark, apart from the glow of the fire. She appreciated the extra touch of comfort. Her uncle didn’t waste such luxuries on his despised niece, and there had been occasional winter nights when she’d curled up next to Imogen to keep warm.
The clock on the mantel chimed the quarter past midnight. She had no idea when Halston would come to her. He’d said it would be after everyone was asleep. She could have a long wait.
It would be sensible to try to snatch a little sleep, but her heart raced and the blood fizzed in her veins like champagne. She’d never felt so wide-awake in all her life.
She’d just decided to get up and fetch her book – although she knew she wasn’t likely to concentrate on a story either – when a panel moved in the wall.
Her heart had been galloping for an hour. The sight of that secret door opening made it stop with a mighty thud.
As she watched Halston emerge from the dark gap, her breath caught. In the flickering light of his candle, he appeared breathtakingly tall and his features took on a fiendish cast.
As he approached, Stella pushed up against the pillows. The familiar sardonic smile twisted his lips.
He was still dressed. Or mostly. He’d removed his fashionable coat and the crimson silk waistcoat, leaving him in shirtsleeves and dark trousers. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Do I?” she stammered, raising one hand to where her pulse hammered in her throat. It was absurd that only now did the full reality of what she was about to do hit her. For ten years, she’d stuck to one path. What happened now took her a million miles away from that.
He stepped closer. “Boo.”
The silliness brought her back to earth with a jolt. Self-disgust edged her huff of laughter. “I need to stop reading gothic novels. They’re playing on my imagination.”
“Ghoulies and ghosties and things that howl about the battlements?”
“Something like that.” She shifted to sit on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through her fall of hair. She’d unbound it before she lay down.
He raised the candle to reveal her. “My purposes are definitely of this world.”
“I know they are. So are mine.”
His smile intensified. “I’m delighted to hear that. Shall we go?”
“Go?” She frowned. “Aren’t we staying here? I thought that was why you gave me this lovely room.”
“As a bower of sin?” He set the candle on the chest of drawers. “No, I gave you this lovely room because I wanted to do you honor.”
More of that dangerous warmth filled her. Dangerous because it had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with blossoming emotional intimacy. Desire was powerful, but simple in comparison to her increasing liking for Halston as a man.
Stella hoped to finish this affair with both reputation and heart intact. Every moment she spent with the earl put her heart in jeopardy. Nobody had made her feel special since Niccolo’s death. It was a feeling that she couldn’t allow herself to get used to. Life would be barren enough as it was, once she went back to London.
He went on, unaware of how his kindness unsettled her. “And because it’s at the end of a secret passage.”
Without thinking, she held out her hand. “So where are we going?”
When Halston took her hand, heat swamped her uncertainty. It was years since she’d had a man in her bed, and she wasn’t sure how she’d compare to his previous, far more worldly lovers. But anticipation made a mockery of her collywobbles. She wanted him. The chance to have him was too precious to sacrifice, however fidgety she was.
“My room. It’s more private. You’re going to scream with pleasure, remember?”
“You never know. I might make you scream.”
“You might indeed.” Appreciation glittered in his eyes. “Are you ready?”
She raised her chin and told the giant rabbits bouncing around inside her stomach to settle down. “Yes.”
“That’s my girl.”
Before she could protest that she wasn’t his girl – although she had a sinking feeling that she really was – he drew her close for a gentle kiss. His lips seemed to ask a silent question. When she melted against him and twined her arms around his neck, she gave the only answer she could.
Yes. Yes. Always yes.
By the time he lifted his head, her knees had dissolved into water and her head was spinning. Heaven help her when he took the seduction beyond kisses. She’d turn into a blithering lunatic.
She rose on her toes to press her lips to his. Lord Halston was so tall. Niccolo had been her height. Perhaps that was why all this felt so different.
Not to mention that she and Niccolo had been in love. There was no suggestion that love formed any part of her arrangement with Halston.
“Shall we go?” he whispered, taking her hand again and pausing to pick up the candle.
“Yes.” Yes seemed to be her word of choice tonight.
She tightened the belt of her peignoir and squared her shoulders. The moment had come. Stella waited to feel some reluctance, but when she searched her heart, all she found was eagerness.
What she was about to do would make her a pariah, if society ever found out. Yet she was happy as she couldn’t remember feeling since her parents died, all those years ago in Naples.
“Try not to talk in the passage,” he murmured, approaching the gap in the paneling. “It runs behind the bedrooms and voices are audible, as you’ll discover.”
They stepped into the opening. In the narrow passage, she fell behind him. Beneath her slippered feet, the wooden boards were bare.
“Shut the panel behind you,” he said in a voice so low, it was closer to a vibration than an actual sound.
She clicked the panel closed, shivering in the cold air, now she was away from the fire. Then shivering again when thick darkness enclosed her. Halston’s candle seemed a frail defense against the blackness. She bit back another half-joking comment about ghosts.
As if he sensed her sudden failure of courage, he pressed her hand. He was a perceptive man. At least when it came to her. She suspected that perception would translate into unforgettable pleasure when he used her body.
A subtle tug, and they began to make their way down the corridor. Stella was conscious of the people on the other side of the wall. Imogen’s room was quiet. The girl must be asleep. Stella took a moment to wonder who filled her dreams. She was almost certain that it wasn’t the soft-footed man who drew her toward ruin with every step.
The Lumsdens were talking about Harriet’s beaux, and Halston scored a mention. The Bilsons were arguing over Mrs. Bilson flirting with Lord Tierney over dinner. Guttural snoring roared from the Tierneys’ room.
When Halston stopped, she collided with him. She pressed her hand to her lips, too late to muffle a gasp.
“There are steps ahead,” he murmured into her ear.
This time, her shiver was pure pleasure. His breath was warm on her skin, and in the confined space, she felt drunk on his tangy scent. Sandalwood soap and something potently male.
He turned a corner and kept hold of her hand as they climbed a set of steps. Finally he stopped at a wall. With a couple of soft clicks, the panel opened on a large sitting room that put her opulent bedroom completely in the shade.
As Halston led her forward, Stella realized that they were in one of the gable ends of the house. He released her and reached back to shut the panel, closing them in.
Wide-eyed, Stella surveyed her surroundings. Candles lit the room to gold, and a fire blazed in the hearth. The room was decorated in cream and dark green, and vases of massed flowers perfumed the air. Lilies predominated.
She recalled her jealousy when she thought Halston had sent that bouquet to Imogen. As she drew in a breath tinged with exotic fragrance, her anticipation rose.
“Very convenient for a mistress,” she said huskily, moving across to take a closer look at an enormous arrangement of spring flowers.
Smiling with unabashed satisfaction, Halston leaned against the wall and crossed his arms across his powerful chest. His loose-limbed slouch reminded her of a big cat. A leopard or a tiger. However relaxed he might appear, he was ready to pounce.
“Are you trying to find out how many women I’ve installed in your room for nefarious purposes?”
She shook her head. “I’m guessing you’ve lost count.”
With a huff of amusement, he crossed to open the bottle of champagne on the sideboard. There was a pop as he released the cork. “Not exactly.”
“It’s none of my business.”
“It’s not. I don’t kiss and tell.”
Fascinated, she watched him fill two glasses and set the bottle back in the ice bucket. He was such a pleasure to observe. He turned the most prosaic action into art.
“For which I’m very grateful,” she said, accepting the glass he held out.
Green eyes unwavering, he took a sip of his wine. That intense jade stare felt like a caress. She gave another of those delicious little shivers that were becoming a habit.
“But in this case, I’ll break that rule.”
“Oh?” Stella wasn’t sure that she wanted to know about the army of beauties who had trodden that corridor to arrive at his bed. She wished she hadn’t raised the subject.
“None.”
“A nun?” she repeated, shocked when she thought she was beyond the point where his sins might appal her.
Despite her dismay at his confession, his gentle laugh made her heart turn over. “No, you absurd creature. None. No women. No mistresses. I try and keep my nose clean here, where I live and where I’ll one day bring my countess.”
“I…see,” Stella said, finding his circumspection almost more disturbing than some tale of profligacy.
“London is for fun. Prestwick Place is much too serious to play host to my wild women.” He drank some more champagne. “Apart from you.”
“I don’t know what to say. I think I’m flattered.”
Damn it, there he went again. Making her feel special, when she knew she wasn’t. Not really. Except that she was more of a nuisance to get into bed than his usual paramours.
“So you should be, madam.” His smile broadened. “There are some delicacies over there. Are you hungry?”
“Just for you,” she admitted, shocked anew, this time at her boldness. It had become a habit to guard every word and action, but something about Lord Halston made subterfuge impossible.
His eyes flared as he stepped closer. “Stella…”
She took a gulp of champagne and swallowed it with a speed that did the fine vintage no justice. Dutch courage was more important than the taste. Her craving for Halston’s hands on her skin became a mania.
Stella set her crystal glass on the nearest table. Her grip was so unsteady that liquid sloshed against the rim. When she turned to face Halston, he hadn’t moved. The urgency sharpening his features made him look more like a fallen angel than ever. Lucifer tumbled to earth to seduce a mere mortal.
Lucky mortal.
She shook back the weight of her hair and reached down to untie her peignoir. Under Halston’s burning regard, her fingers were clumsy. It took an eon to release the knot.
His unhidden interest stirred wanton pleasure. When she lifted her hands to slide the robe from her shoulders, she felt confident. More, she felt beautiful and desired, and equal to anything that happened tonight.
As the peignoir slipped to the floor, Halston gave a low growl of pleasure. “You wore it.”
“Yes.”
When she’d come upstairs, she found the exquisite golden silk nightgown draped over her bed. Now she displayed herself for the gaze that devoured her from top to toe.
She was naked beneath the silk, which was sheer enough to reveal every detail of her body. Her breasts swelled, and her nipples tightened until they hurt. Longing settled in her belly, and a deep throbbing set up in her secret hollows.
Halston’s hand was unsteady, too, as he placed his glass beside hers. “You’re glorious.”
Stella spread her hands in welcome. “Let’s do glorious things together.”
