Wickeds Scandal by Kathleen Ayers

13

Sutton resolved to stay away from Miss Dunforth. Her association with Archie Runyon filled him with disbelief and an angry possessiveness. Jealousy. An emotion Sutton had never felt for any woman before, and he shied from it. But then he saw her, walking smartly into the atrium of the Royal Exhibition in the company of his sister. Again, the Badger surprised him with her appearance in the most unlikely place. Miranda neglected to inform him she was bringing Miss Dunforth today.

He waited before entering the lecture hall, intending to sneak in after Bishop began speaking. He would stand during the lecture and avoid Miss Dunforth. Then Alexandra burst through the heavy doors of the lecture hall, scurrying away like a frightened mouse chased by a housecat. He’d followed her. He told himself it was only to ensure her safety. Not to accost her. Not to demand an explanation of her relationship with Runyon, though God help him, he needed one.

He watched as she spoke to the monkey. The Badger’s voice, so lost and forlorn, undid Sutton. The very sight of her trim form with the overabundance of bosom, and the curling mass of hair, made every muscle in his body come alive. He longed for her. There simply wasn’t another way to describe this deep, intense yearning for the small, prickly woman before him.

Alex didn’t move or turn as he said her name. She looked straight ahead, as if frozen in place before the cage. Her voice quivered.

“Stalking innocent women again, Lord Cambourne?”

“Perhaps. Or badgers. I am partial to badgers.”

“Are we back to seeing me as an irritable rat again, Lord Cambourne?” Still, Alex refused to face him. The pale blue gown she wore made her chestnut curls shine and the pale skin of her neck gleam like a slice of moonlight. Her outlandish hair struggled mightily to escape its confines. One shiny hairpin busily worked its way loose as he watched. His gaze fell to her waist, running up her back to the long string of satin covered buttons. Sutton had an unnatural fascination for her back. He longed to see the naked flesh hidden behind the satin.

His fingers wandered to the line of buttons. He rotated each one, wiggling the button just so as he imagined undressing her.

“Please leave me be, Lord Cambourne. I beg you. I have not the strength of will to fight you.” Sad and despondent, her voice shook as she spoke.

He resolved to comfort her only. “Turn and look at me. Tell me what is wrong that has you weeping on the shoulder of a capuchin monkey.”

Her head shook in denial. The hairpin fell to the floor. A curl flowed down her back and fell on his fingers where they touched the buttons.

Sutton’s finger shook. He determined to just hold her. To offer assistance.

She shivered under his touch, arching as he twisted the buttons. “Why?” Her shoulders moved. The satin rippled underneath his hand. “Why do you care?”

Sutton pondered that difficult question. How to explain to Alex that he wanted her. But it was more than wanting. He desired the whole of her for an inexplicable reason. She called to something deep inside of him. The Badger belonged to him. Just thinking about Alex with Runyon filled him with blinding rage. No amount of brandy, nor the charms of every beautiful woman in London, not even the thought of returning to Macao, drove thoughts of Alex from his mind. Seeing Runyon put his hands on the Badger, his Alex, made Sutton nearly insane. Sutton had many reasons for wanting Archie dead, but he had found another. Alex.

Afternoon sun peeked through the skylight above their heads, casting shadows across the path through the exhibit hall. The silence was so complete he heard each breath she took. His fingers lingered over the buttons.

“I wish you to call me Sutton.” The words hovered in the quiet.

Why didn’t she say something? Move away?

Sutton blew a puff of air on her neck, unable to resist the tiny curls at the base. The curls swayed as if buffeted in a breeze. He tugged the long curl that fell over his hand.

The Badger moaned softly. She arched her back, lowering her head slightly to give him access to her neck.

Sutton’s heart thudded. He pressed his lips to her skin and nibbled, teasing a path with his tongue. He wanted to devour her.

Her hands grabbed the bars of the cage in front of her, as if she would fall without support. She gasped.

Sutton thought of throwing her skirts up and taking her here, in the exhibition hall while she grabbed the cage. A growl escaped his throat.

“Please.” Alex gave a smoky whisper.

“Please what, Alex? Please take you here? Please kiss you? Fuck you until you are senseless?”

He heard her intake of breath at the crudity of his words, but she didn’t flinch. He was nearly blind with the lust he felt for this woman. Sutton wanted nothing in his life as much as he wanted Alex. His bookish badger from Hampshire.

Alex made a small cry like a trapped bird. She turned slightly as if to flee him.

“No.” His lips whispered against her neck. His arm wrapped around her waist. “I want you.”

“Lord Cambourne.” She panted. “Sutton,” she implored. “Please let me go. We cannot. I cannot.”

“Don’t be afraid of me. Badgers are fearless, are they not? Certainly not afraid of peacocks.” Sutton swiftly turned her to face him.

Gray eyes, full of trepidation and want looked up at him.

His eyes fell to her breasts, her magnificent breasts, and he imagined he could see the nipples tighten beneath his gaze.

“Come with me, little one.” His arousal was uncomfortably hard in his breeches. He pulled her against him and brushed a kiss against her lips. “Please, Alex.”

A gloved finger reached up and ran down his face. Like the kiss of a butterfly. Fear warred with desire. He could see it in her face.

She gave a hesitant nod.

Sutton’s mind chided him for taking undue advantage of the Badger in her distress. He didn’t care. His hand closed around her wrist tightly, giving her no opportunity to flee. Sutton pulled her down the exhibit hall to a small door he noticed earlier. A maid’s closet. Grabbing her by the waist, he nudged her into the small space ahead of him. He pulled the door shut, plunging the closet into darkness. The room smelled of lye and beeswax. Sutton kicked a pail aside with his foot and hauled Alex up against him.

* * *

I have lost my mind.Alexandra wondered at her actions. A bit of light filtered underneath the door, enough so that she could see Sutton’s outline, if not his features. She could smell lye. He’d pulled her into a cleaning closet. She should open the door and run as fast and as far from this man as she could. But she hadn’t the strength or the will. She wanted him. Just for a moment. Before she faced reality. Mr. Runyon. Betrothal. Marriage.

Strong hands moved down her arms from her shoulders. Heat shot out from his fingers as he caressed and molded her flesh.

A shaky breath escaped her lips. She must tell him. Tell him the thing that now hung around her neck like some ill-gotten albatross. “I shouldn’t be here with you, Lord Cambourne.”

“Sutton.”

“Sutton,” she pleaded. “I will be missed.”

“You won’t be missed for a time.”

“There are circumstances that you may not be—” The rest of her sentence was cut off by the warmth of his mouth. His lips pressed against hers, insisting and demanding a response. Tenderly, he forced her mouth open. The tip of his tongue touched her own. Her lips responded as her tongue twined around his.

Sutton groaned in satisfaction. He enveloped her in his arms.

Cinnamon. He smells of cinnamon. She clutched at him tighter. Her hands worked up the muscled chest and around his back to lie against his shoulder blades. She imagined the dragon on his back sensuously moving against her palms.

One large hand moved from the small of her back to cup her breast.

An unladylike moan came from her lips.

Fingers slowly circled the nipple. He flicked the hardened peak.

A spurt of warmth rushed down between the apex of her thighs. The sensitive peak of her nipple throbbed deliciously.

He pulled his mouth from hers. The tip of his tongue blazed a trail up her neck to her ear, lightly skimming the lobe and laving the inside with tiny, darting strokes.

Alexandra felt taut, wild, and trapped in too many layers of chemise and petticoats. Her entire body ached with need, a need she didn’t understand.

Sutton pushed against her, gentle but demanding, forcing her to bend to him. He twisted sensuously, so she could feel the hardness of his arousal. Cool air ran across her breasts, the skin puckering as the buttons popped on her bodice. She jumped in shock as the warmth of Sutton’s mouth closed over her nipple.

He suckled, nipping at the peak with his teeth.

Alexandra thrust her breasts up to Sutton. She behaved as a wanton. Her fingers wrapped themselves in his hair, urging him to suckle harder. All rational thought flew from her mind. A low moaning sounded in the closet and she realized with astonishment the noise came from her. Boldly, Alexandra nipped Sutton on the neck, tasting the cinnamon of his skin.

Sutton made a primal noise. His mouth moved from her breast.

“No,” she begged.

“Shush.” Sutton’s large hands cradled her head. He leaned forward.

The pad of his thumb ran over her swollen lips.

Alexandra panted lightly. She didn’t want him to stop.

“Alex.” Sutton carefully put his nose against hers, rubbing them together gently. The gesture was so intimate, so loving, she came undone.

“Sutton, please, I must tell you…”

“Shush. Not now. Not here. Later.”

He brought his large body down in one fluid motion, his hands around her waist. One hand strayed from her side, reaching beneath the layers of silk and petticoats to run up her leg. Her calves tensed, the cool air of the closet a tickle against her hose. Something brushed against her thigh—his mouth.

“I want to bury myself in you. Wrap your hair around my wrist and bind you to me.” The words, possessive and sexual, flew from his lips in a harsh whisper.

The pressure between her thighs mounted. The ache intensified at his words. In the darkness it was easy to imagine the dragon’s tail winding around her and Sutton, binding them together.

Warm fingers traveled to the middle of her thigh, stopping at her garter. The other hand let go of her waist. Taking a grasp of her skirts, he twisted them and threw the folds of fabric over his shoulder.

“One day soon I will have you spread before me,” the dark, husky voice intoned, “with your hair spilling around you, clad in nothing but your stockings and garters. Your very essence open to me.”

Aroused at the image his words brought to mind, Alexandra almost fainted.

His fingers glided over the thin cotton of her drawers, seeking the opening. Fingers, warm and sensual, plucked at the fabric.

Her mound thrust against his questing hand. The warm mist of his breath scorched her drawers. He pulled the string of her drawers gently with his teeth until they fell away. Intimately exposed, she shied in embarrassment.

“Mmm. No.” His thumb prodded at her slit, parting the folds of flesh to massage the hidden nub. Sensations shot through her. The thumb ran back and forth over the tender peak.

“Oh, God,” she gasped.

One large finger slid inside her folds, inside her, while his thumb continued to put pressure on the nub. The pleasure was intense, excruciating, forbidden.

“Does that feel good, little Badger?”

“Having seduced many women,” she panted, “I would assume you know it feels good. Arrogant p-pea-peacock.” The pressure inside her built.

Sutton sucked in his breath. “Yes, but none I wanted to pleasure as much as you, my Badger. Put your hands on my shoulders.” His voice was rough. Demanding.

She complied, grasping the fabric at his shoulders. The dragon nipped at her fingers.

Alexandra was immediately rewarded for her compliance as another digit joined the first. Her inner core expanded, stretched wickedly to wrap around his fingers.

“Oh, my.”

The thumb suddenly stopped its ministrations.

Alexandra wanted to scream in frustration. Was he stopping? Like an animal she moved her hips towards his hand seeking, wanting.

The two fingers inside her, wiggled.

“Oh God, please Sutton.”

“Please what, sweetheart?”

Her heart flipped at hearing the endearment from his lips. Her nipples hard and sensitive begged for his ministrations. Alexandra would burst if he didn’t touch her again.

She sobbed. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what to ask for.”

“Tell me you want me. I want to hear you say it.”

His tongue flicked lightly against the sensitive nub. His fingers, still buried deep within her, moved in time with his tongue.

She thrust herself against his mouth.

Sutton held her firmly. The tongue flicked and retreated. The ache built inside her, needy, demanding.

Alexandra’s muscles clenched around his fingers, “Please.” She wanted his mouth on her again.

“Say it.” His tongue rasped against her flesh. “Say it or I’ll stop.” The sensation traveled all the way down her body. She heard herself moan.

“I want you. Only you.” She said it as if she were begging for food. As if she were burning in flames, and only he could rescue her.

His mouth settled back over her as he thrust a third finger deep into her. Alexandra cried out. The intensity of his fingers and the stroke of his tongue gave way to a fine, intense pinpoint of pleasure. Her body tensed. The pressure of his mouth increased, his fingers thrust into her.

A white-hot bolt of intense ecstasy shot through her. Wave upon wave of pleasure so powerful, so forceful, that she cried out. Nothing she’d ever read, nor any cautionary tale heard from her Aunt Eloise, had prepared Alexandra for the wealth of pleasure she experienced at Sutton’s touch.

“Sutton, Sutton.” She sobbed his name, her heart and body filled with this man. Only this man.

He clasped her tightly. His tongue continued to stroke her until her body stopped its wild movements.

The sensations faded. The jerking of her body stopped. She felt bloodless, boneless, limp and weak. If he hadn’t held her, she would likely have collapsed into a heap on the floor.

His hands left her body. A kiss pressed against her womanhood. Then the kisses moved down her leg, as he carefully retied her drawers and lowered her skirt. He murmured something against her thigh in a soothing tone. His lips touched her thigh in reverence. Breathing heavily, his fingers trailed down her leg to her ankle.

Sutton grabbed her hand and pressed it against the arousal in his trousers.

Alexandra didn’t flinch. Instead she traced the hard, uncompromising shape with her fingers.

He groaned, the sound loud and male. He brushed his mouth against hers.

She could taste herself on his lips.

Standing, he held her in his arms. One hand stroked the side of her neck. He whispered dark, erotic words of the pleasure he wished them to find together.

She nestled closer to his chest, wishing for this to never end. Ashamed and broken with the knowledge of what she needed to tell him, she pulled from his arms. She was betrothed to a man Sutton hated. He would never forgive her.

“Alex? What is it, Badger?” He grasped her shoulders in the darkness, the fingers gently fitting the buttons of her bodice. “Did I hurt you?”

Alexandra made a small cry of distress. “Sutton.” She cleared her throat and pushed his hands away. She couldn’t make him out in the darkness, but she sensed he was frowning at her, perplexed by her attitude. “I must tell you. Please try to understand—”

Sutton backed away from her so violently his large body collided with the shelves behind him. Cleaning supplies fell to the floor and the smell of lye filled the small space.

“Alex. What have you done?” he rasped.

“You need to understand. People depend on me. People—”

“Runyon. You have betrothed yourself to Runyon.”

Alexandra made tiny sobbing noises, her heart breaking apart like a glass vase someone had dashed against a stone floor. “Please let me explain. I deserve your disgust. Truly.” Tears ran down her face. “But Helmsby Abbey. My home. I had no choice, don’t you see? There is no one else. He promised….” She babbled, sounding like a lunatic in Bedlam.

“You are marrying him for a farm?” He shoved her against the wall, hurting her. “You scoffed at my offer, made me feel as if I was the very epitome of depravity, for even suggesting that the innocent Alexandra Dunforth be my mistress.”

“I thought you toyed with me. I know now that’s—”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “What a pity I didn’t know your price to become a whore was an acre of dirt in Hampshire. The highly principled Miss Dunforth. In the end, you are exactly like every other woman I know. You are just much cheaper.”

“Please, Sutton. Listen to me.”

“You would rather be Runyon’s whore? Then so be it.” Sutton snarled. “To think I actually considered—” His words ended abruptly.

Alexandra shook her head. Her blood drummed in her ears. “It’s not like that. I need to make you see—”

“Shut up.” He grabbed her chin roughly, turning her head so that he could whisper in her ear, his tone full of disgust. “No better than a whore.” He dropped her chin as if the feel of her flesh tarnished him. “Is that what you were doing that day at my grandmother’s? Did you think to tell her I seduced you, so you could negotiate for your farm? No wonder you were so surprised when I appeared. I scuttled your plans, didn’t I?”

Pain and hurt roared through Alexandra, making her stomach twist into knots. I will not survive this. I cannot listen to any more. A horrible retching sound came from her mouth. She opened the closet door and picked up her skirts. Her eyes filled with tears, blinding her, as she stumbled out into the hallway. She ran full tilt into someone who held her by the shoulders. Miranda.

“Alexandra. What’s happened?” Miranda’s brow furrowed in surprise as she looked at Alexandra. She quickly leaned over, adjusting Alexandra’s bodice. “Oh, Alexandra.”

Alexandra shook her head. “Oh God, what have I done?”

“Look at me, Alexandra,” Miranda said in a low tone, “others are watching.”

Lord Tasterly, from behind Miranda, cleared his throat. “Lady Miranda, your brother is here.”

“Miranda,” Alexandra whispered, “I need to leave. Please, away from everyone. Especially your brother.” She was dying inside. Her heart would stop beating. Her noble sacrifice on behalf of Helmsby Abbey brought her little comfort. She destroyed her heart’s desire. How could she marry Mr. Runyon? How could she not?

Miranda straightened, shielding Alexandra’s much smaller body with her own. “It’s all right,” she said to the small group that rounded the corner of the exhibition. “A snake in the exhibition startled Miss Dunforth. I believe she’s turned her ankle.”

Someone in the crowd gave a gasp of fright. Alexandra thought it sounded like Lady Atkins.

“Come Miss Dunforth, Lord Tasterly will see you to my carriage.” Miranda waved at Lord Tasterly. “My lord, would you assist us?”

“Of course!” he choked out, sparing a glance at Lord Cambourne to see if the Marquess would disagree.

Alexandra wanted to cry out that Sutton would not object, in fact, she was quite certain Sutton could care less whether she expired on the spot or not. Grief wracked Alexandra’s body. She shook uncontrollably.

Gingerly, Miranda led Alexandra away to the main hall, assisted by Lord Tasterly. Alexandra heard Lord Tasterly murmur a “my lord” as they passed Lord Cambourne. She did not look up.

Sutton did not attempt to stop them.

Miranda made soothing sounds as she led Alexandra towards the main entrance. “I will have the Cambourne coach take you home."

Every step took Alexandra farther from Sutton. She’d misjudged him. Loss, dark and gaping, smothered her taking her breath away. She stumbled.

Miranda caught her and gently placed Alexandra inside the Cambourne coach. “Please see Miss Dunforth home,” she instructed the groom. “You may return for Lord Cambourne and myself, later.” Miranda squeezed Alexandra’s hand. She looked over her shoulder at her brother, who watched them with hooded eyes from the entrance. “Alexandra?” She lowered her voice, so the groom would not hear. “What happened to leave you in such a state?”

Alexandra blinked back tears. She would brave this out. Her chin lifted. “I simply informed Lord Cambourne of my betrothal to Mr. Runyon.”

Miranda said nothing. She swallowed hard. “Oh no, Alexandra.” Miranda’s lovely face crumpled. She shook her head and disengaged Alexandra’s hands from her own. The groom shut the carriage door. Alexandra could stand it no longer. She began to weep.

* * *

Damn her!His mind refused to accept the truth of Alex’s words. Refused to acknowledge the anguish her words caused to his heart. He convinced himself it was only that he was thwarted in his lust. There were many women in the world. He did not need to suffer the loss of a temperamental spinster from Hampshire. Alexandra was like every other woman. Runyon simply made her a better offer. Sutton merely made a mistake. Alexandra was not different. Providence allowed him to find out before he made an ass of himself. Sutton made the incorrect assumption that Alexandra wanted him. Not the Marquess of Cambourne. Not Satan Reynolds. Him. Pity he didn’t know earlier her price was a farm. No matter. He intended on either killing Archie or sending him to the continent.

An unexpected wave of longing washed through him. Alex.

Did she care for Runyon? Share his proclivities? The thought made Sutton ill. No. Her response to Sutton had been innocent and untried. Alexandra had not been with another man. He did not believe the awful words he flung in anger at her. He refused to believe she married Runyon because she wanted to.

A distant memory came to him, from his time at Eton. Three boys, all despised by the other youths, and tormented daily by the headmaster for their perceived flaws. Colin smuggled in a bottle of whiskey, good Irish whiskey, from his father’s study. The three ran and hid on the edge of the woods, drinking until the bottle emptied. Nick said a man in the village told him that an old gypsy woman lived by the river. She told fortunes.

Drunk, but in agreement to have their futures told, the three made their way to the river and spied the Gypsy wagon. An old nag, barely able to stand, was tethered to the wagon. The old woman didn’t flinch as the trio approached. Laughing, the three sat as the crone cackled in delight at their appearance.

Colin shouted they wanted their fortunes told. Our fates should make the other boys respect us. Make us sound dangerous he said, so that the other boys will learn to stay away.

‘I’ve been waiting for you, my Wickeds,’ the crone laughed. ‘All cursed, aren’t you?’ Her gaze fell on Nick. ‘We share an ancestor.’

Nick shrank back in horror.

The crone reached out and grabbed Sutton. She held his chin, turning his head back and forth, as if examining him for flaws. One claw-like hand stroked his cheek. ‘A terrible beauty you are. They say the devil was once an angel as well.’ His looks were a curse, she said, for no one would ever look past his face to see the soul encased therein.

The crone terrified Sutton. He tried to pull away from her grasp.

She laughed, coughing up brown spittle. The spittle hung from her withered lips. Grabbing his left hand, she traced the lines of his palm with a yellow cracked nail. Her eyes, nearly concealed by sagging folds of flesh, sparkled with a supernatural intelligence. ‘Women will desire you. You have only to look at them to seduce them. No woman will be able to resist you.’ Colin and Nick burst into gales of laughter, their fear momentarily forgotten. Nick made several lewd comments. ‘But your life will be controlled by the jealous envy of others. You will be marked for it.’ Sutton shrank back, his eyes never leaving the crone’s face. ‘And love? You will love only once, the same as your father.’

Nick dropped the whiskey bottle. Colin coughed nervously.

Sutton pulled his hand away from the crone. How could she know? How could she possibly know about his parents?

The crone chuckled at his discomfort. ‘The woman you desire above all others will belong to one whom you wish to destroy. You will never possess her. You will yearn for her all the days of your life.’

The memory dimmed. He was once again at the Royal Exhibition. Sutton clenched his fists tightly. He didn’t believe in prophecy.