Wickeds Scandal by Kathleen Ayers

3

Good Lord!Sutton Reynolds watched as his cheroot burned a hole in the writhing curtain. A small feminine chin came to rest on the toe of his boots. As jaded as he was, even Sutton could appreciate the irony of yet another woman literally falling at his feet.

He bent to swat at the ember that rapidly burned through the curtain. The bundle at his feet made a muffled sound of protest. The bundle deserved his abuse. She had been spying on him. He hoped it wasn’t Lady Halston’s daughter, Eunice. The girl had been stalking him for weeks now. He had last seen Eunice leaping at him from a topiary at the Earl of Trent’s a fortnight ago.

“Ow!”

Yes, he definitely swatted her too hard. The pleasingly plump bottom below his palm was likely stinging from his ministrations. Couldn’t be Eunice, then. Eunice was much taller and so thin she looked as if she would snap. Lord Cambourne smacked the plump bottom again.

The bundle stiffened in indignation.

An eye peered at him through a gap in the fabric. The bundle twitched, struggling to roll over and free itself. After several minutes of twisting and turning like an earthworm, he heard a feminine sigh of frustration.

“Excuse me,” the bundle addressed him, “I realize we have not been properly introduced, but would you mind unwrapping me?”

“How incredibly provocative that sounds.” The bundle stiffened and gave a small snort of disgust.

Sutton grabbed the end of the curtain and gently unrolled. A profusion of chestnut curls spilled out, accompanied by an overabundance of bosom and snapping gray eyes. The girl struggled ungracefully into a sitting position. One dark curl fell over her brow. She pursed her lips and blew a puff of air to dislodge the curl. The spiral moved, and then snapped back over her eye.

He held out a hand and pulled her up to face him. Petite and curvy, she barely reached the middle of his chest. The oval of her face was pale, her skin a delicate porcelain, her features altogether ordinary. Except that they were surrounded by a magnificent, dark-brown mass of curling tendrils. She didn’t look frightened in the least, just irritated, and apparently with him. He found her demeanor quite interesting.

“Eavesdropping is a dreadful occupation. Do you see where it gets you? Nearly roasted to death like a tiny partridge.” His gaze ran over the ringlets threatening to escape what remained of her coiffure. He absolutely adored curls. One might even call it a fetish. Sutton toyed with running his fingers through the twisting mass when a better idea occurred to him. “I had a devil of a time making sure the fire was out. Perhaps I should just check again.” He leaned to examine her posterior.

She jumped out of his reach, the tendrils of her hair swaying across the ivory tops of her breasts. He tried not to stare. Her breasts were magnificent. Between the breasts and the hair, his interest was definitely piqued. The tightness in his breeches proved it.

“Are you all right?” he asked politely. She stared at him. Most women did when they first met him. Sutton knew of his effect on women. The female sex tended to look at him as if he were some sort of dessert. Although, this girl looked hostile. Perhaps she didn’t have a sweet tooth.

Shooting him a look of reproach, she rubbed her abused bottom.

It was only her quickened breathing that gave away her distress. Each breath tightened the silk fabric of her bodice against the ivory globes of her breasts. He hoped she would inhale deeply enough so that one of those magnificent mountains would pop out. Or at least a nipple. His left hand twitched with the urge to cup one of those perfect breasts in his hand. The thought made it difficult to remember that he needed to chastise her soundly for spying on him.

“I wasn’t,” she sputtered. Her brow wrinkled in consternation. Another curl sprang free.

Sutton watched in fascination as the curl unwound, spiraling down her shoulder to lie in the valley between her breasts. “Wasn’t what?” He forgot what they were discussing. Her lips were plump, like tiny pillows. Sutton forced his look from her lips back to her face and assumed a bland expression.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” she began to explain hastily. “I was looking for the Ladies Necessary Room. The pins….in my hair…you see they were falling out. My hair is quite unruly and the pins…” She spread her hands in front of her. “I got lost and then I saw the light and thought perhaps it was the Ladies Necessary Room. But it wasn’t. I saw books and I….” Two spots of red appeared on her cheeks.

A flair of annoyance washed through him at her words. Why didn’t she have the good sense to shut up? Women had been lying in wait for him since he was fifteen. The situation had only gotten worse since his return from Macao when his grandmother announced “open season” on his bachelorhood. Granted, wrapping oneself up in a curtain and being caught on fire was a bit drastic, but he knew many women who would do far more to snatch a title. Disappointment filled him. Just another dull virgin of the ton, out husband-hunting. Albeit one with magnificent hair and an overabundance of bosom.

“The books? Do you mean to tell me you traipsed in here purely to look at books? In Lord Dobson’s library? During a ball?” A dark brow lifted. “What an interesting excuse.”

The girl gulped in disbelief. Loudly. Small, gloved hands clenched tightly at her sides as if she were strangling something in her fists. The gunmetal gray eyes narrowed.

His already foul mood worsened. He wanted only a moment’s peace from the muttering gossips that graced the ballroom. He detested these affairs. Then Caro appeared, begging to be seduced. He should have ended things with her weeks ago. Could this girl be in league with Caro? Caro did so want to be a Marchioness. Or possibly this girl wanted to be a Marchioness.

Her nostrils flared. The bodice stretched, but held.

“Are you here at Lady Fellowes’s behest or are you a mercenary yourself? Perhaps you thought to jump out after she left?” He waved his hand, dismissing her. “Go back to the ball. You have been found out. I hate to dash whatever you hoped to achieve, but neither you nor Lady Fellowes are Marchioness material. Keep that in mind should you decide to call ruin. I would hate to kill an outraged father or brother for such ridiculous behavior.”

A squeak of outrage popped out of her luscious mouth. He had an urge to nibble on that plump lower lip.

Another thought occurred to him. “Maybe I disturbed your assignation? Were you meeting a lover?” A bit of contempt bled into his words. He could not help it. The women of the ton tended to either be twittering virgins or bed-hopping matrons. “Please take a word of advice. You really need to work on your excuses. Bluestockings are a rarity at these gatherings. No one will ever listen to such nonsense as ‘I was looking at the books.’” The girl’s face reddened. She gritted her teeth and gave him a look full of daggers.

Sutton’s breeches twitched. The proper thing to do would be to allow her to run back to the ball, having sustained only minor emotional distress during her encounter with Satan Reynolds. But her reaction to him was so atypical. For some odd reason he was enjoying himself. A rarity.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” The baiting of virgins should become a sport or a gentleman’s pursuit. Like fencing.

She muttered something; it sounded like ‘bloody arrogant bastard,’ and a small foot stamped in an effort to gain his attention. Gray eyes, gone the color of a winter storm, flashed at him. “I was not eavesdropping. I am not in league with your Lady Fellowes. I was not meeting a lover. I especially was not, heaven forbid, following you in a pathetic attempt to be ruined! You vainglorious, arrogant, depraved …peacock! Until tonight I had no idea you even existed. In addition, you have the most ridiculous nickname I have ever heard! I think it likely you made it up to entice shallow females who would fall for your dubious charms.” She pursed her lips and puffed away an errant curl.

Sutton’s breeches twitched again. The little bit of fluff in front of him had called him a peacock! Held him in contempt! Women simply did not talk to him this way. Actually no one did. He wanted to kiss her senseless.

“I pity the shallow women of the ton if indeed they are lining up for your favors.” The girl’s small shoulders squared as if she were preparing for a boxing match. “Your enormous ego and inflated sense of self-importance would make you a poor choice for a husband, for you are already in love with yourself! There wouldn’t be room in the marriage bed for both a wife and the large mirror in which you admire yourself.

Sutton opened his mouth to defend himself but thought it wiser not to interfere with the most fantastic set-down he ever received. And he found it enjoyable. His status as Satan Reynolds, evil despoiler of women, seemed to have no effect on this girl. The tiny tempest intrigued him.

“I am a guest of Lady Dobson’s. Had I known the sordid display that I would be forced to witness I would have stayed at home! Strange as it may seem to you, my lord, I was actually looking at the books. My toad of an uncle doesn’t have a library. I love books. In fact, I find I like them much more than people, especially the ones I have met so far! Books are not rude, they do not insult a person and accuse them,” she nearly yelled at him, “nor do they seduce dull-witted women on couches during balls! You likely wouldn’t know anything about books, mylord, since I am doubtful you have ever picked up anything to read except the racing papers or the betting sheets at White’s.”

Sutton actually read a great deal more than the racing papers, he was in fact finishing a book on philosophy, but he didn’t wish to interrupt her. Another curl sprung free and hung unnoticed by her ear. He resisted the urge to tweak it.

She continued in a shaky voice. “I just wanted to be somewhere peaceful—just for a moment. Away from all of you.” Her voice caught. “I just wanted to look at the books.” Her magnificent bosom heaved back and forth and her face flushed a becoming shade of rose as she finished her tirade. She looked away, and one small, gloved hand flew to her mouth in embarrassment.

Sutton watched her for a moment, wanting to be sure the eruption was over. Her reddened face and the clutching of her hands assured him it was. The gray eyes were watching him warily. She was adorable. Fierce. He wanted to put her in his pocket.

“What a ferocious little thing you are. Like a tiny badger. A bookish little badger.” He laughed softly. This was the most amusing thing that had happened to him since his return from Macao. Where had this girl been hiding?

She stomped her foot, indignant again. “You compare me to an ill-tempered rodent?” Her nose scrunched in the loveliest manner.

“Did you enjoy watching Caro and me?” How incredibly mean of him to continue to goad her, but he couldn’t help himself. Especially now that he knew she had not been spying on him intentionally. “Why did you not make your presence known? Or scream in offended outrage?”

Emotions played across her face. Her fingers plucked at her gown. She turned her face slightly and looked away. His question managed to stop her cold.

She didn’t raise her head. “I don’t know what you mean. I didn’t watch your sordid display. I covered my eyes. The shock of what I witnessed has put me in a state of shock. I am leaving now. I bid you a good evening, my lord.”

“Liar. Pretty little liar.”

“I find your accusations disgusting. I find you disgusting.”

And she did. He could tell by the look on her face. But something else shone in her features as well. Something he intended to draw out.

“Too bad.” He leaned in. “I find you utterly adorable. Not the least disgusting.”

The Badger was discomfited at his words. She backed away from him, not looking at him directly, but at the toes of his polished black boots. This was much more fun, Sutton thought, than all the jaded flirtations of the women that filled Lady Dobson’s ballroom. He took another step forward.

She retreated.

Damnation!

He heard her say it under her breath as she realized she was cornered against the library wall. Neatly trapped, the Badger stared at him in defiance. A tiny Amazon attempting to face down an ill-mannered giant. No doubt she expected him to ravish her. His reputation would suggest nothing less. He was sorely tempted. Lust for this temperamental girl struck him again, surprising him with the sharpness of it.

He winked and lifted his hands, palms up in supplication, before he clasped them behind his back.

Her eyes widened.

Sutton often thought that so much of seduction could be accomplished with only the mouth and tongue. Words, in particular, were incredibly seductive, although he had found few women who understood that. This girl in front of him had no idea how her tart tongue had incited him.

The gunmetal eyes followed his progress. She said nothing, but her face remained flushed. She didn’t order him to step aside. She didn’t scream. The tilt of her head told him she wanted him to kiss her. The white column of her neck turned, just so, inviting him to touch it. She may not be aware of her actions, but her body knew what it wanted. He heard her breathing, like a frightened animal.

I really am a vile man.

Her gaze fell to his chest, then, back to his face. Her breasts lifted towards him, her body making an unconscious appeal to his. He sensed deep passion in the prickly badger. Sutton leaned forward and caught her scent. Green apples on a spring day. How appropriate. He loved tart, green apples.

A tiny nest of curls, dainty and fine, hung underneath her ear. He blew softly towards the curls, watching them move as if they were caught in a gentle breeze.

She shivered. Deliciously. Her hands pressed against the back of the door as if to brace herself for his attentions.

He considered just reaching around her to open the door and waving her out. But she tempted him. Lured him.

Carefully, he nuzzled the nape of her neck with the tip of his nose, pushing aside the small tendrils to touch the skin underneath. Her skin was warm and soft. Delicate like fine satin. He couldn’t help himself. He nipped her.

“Oh!” Two hands flew up immediately, like trapped doves, to place themselves on his chest.

Heat jolted through his chest at her touch. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, pressing her small form to his. But he didn’t. Instead he inhaled deeply and pressed his lips to the spot he nipped, savoring the Badger as if she were fine wine. He flicked out the tip of his tongue and traced a line from the spot to just below her earlobe. He took her lobe in his mouth and gently sucked on it.

“What are you, oh!” she said again, before she sagged towards him.

The magnificent breasts pushed against him. He imagined her nipples, the color of dusky ripe cherries, pushing through the lawn of his shirt. The beat of her heart could clearly be seen beneath the column of her throat.

She rubbed against him, like a cat wishing to be stroked.

He nearly came undone then but forced his hands to stay still. What started as virgin-baiting turned into something else entirely. Sutton pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her mouth. His tongue flicked out to run against the inside of her upper lip. Her head moved back an inch, unaccustomed to the sensation.

“No.” He whispered against the corner of her mouth. “Be still.”

Her eyes closed in surrender. Her touch ran up his chest, fingers tensing as she made her way slowly up to his neck. His lips brushed over hers, sucking on her bottom lip, pulling away gently from her.

Sutton’s heart hammered in his chest from their kiss, a rare and unnerving experience. What in God’s name was he doing?

* * *

Satan Reynolds kissed her.Erotically. Decadently. And he smelled of cinnamon. She wanted this moment to last forever. The most notorious rake in London looked at her with seduction. She should run as far from this man as possible. Something about him made her want to be wicked. Wanton.

A puzzled look crossed his angelic face as he watched her. His eyes were the most glorious color she had ever seen, green with flecks of gold. Only one other creature in her acquaintance also possessed eyes of that color, her calico tabby cat, Marmalade. Thinking of Marmalade, who was likely sitting by the fire in Helmsby Abbey’s kitchen, brought Alexandra back to reality. She was just a girl from Hampshire, who had never been kissed, desperate to outsmart her uncle to save her home. Were she not so muddled by the man standing before her, Alexandra would have laughed out loud. Her situation sounded very much like a plot of a Lord Thurston novel. The knob of the door ground into her back. She reached for it.

“What is your name?” The dark rasp ran over her like molten chocolate.

Her hand froze on the knob. “Alexandra Dunforth.” She looked into those catlike eyes, truly frightened for the first time. She wondered if this was what the gypsy cursed him with, a magical allure that women could not resist.

“I’ll be seeing you again, Alex.” He smiled wickedly at her.

Alexandra cautiously opened the door, never taking her eyes off Lord Cambourne. She nodded a polite goodbye to him, as if they merely met for tea. She tried to pivot gracefully but stumbled a bit in her haste to exit. She cursed her clumsiness and forced her shaky legs to take her back to the ballroom. The side of her mouth tingled from the imprint of his tongue on her lips.

* * *

Lord Cambourne,known to his friends as Cam and amongst the gossips of the ton as Satan Reynolds, felt his heart thump loudly in his chest as the delectable Miss Dunforth attempted a regal exit. She tripped over her gown, caught herself, and stumbled in a most ungraceful manner away from him. He thought to assist her but feared touching her would unleash all sorts of behavior best left for another time. Besides, her awkwardness charmed him. And he did desire her. That was quite apparent from the hardened arousal in his breeches, meaning he couldn’t follow her immediately. He lit another cheroot.

One of his mistresses in Macao had given Sutton a puzzle box as a gift. The box was intricately inlaid with two different types of wood in a delicate pattern made to look like fish in a sea. He couldn’t open it. He spent weeks looking at it, trying to discern where the secret latch could be hidden, how to push the button just so to reveal the mysteries hidden within.

Sutton flicked his wrist and the remainder of the cheroot fell into the fireplace, sparking briefly. He adjusted his breeches as he walked out of the library. Patience was one of Sutton’s strong suits. After nearly a year, he had finally opened the box to his immense satisfaction. He didn’t think it would take quite that long with Miss Alexandra Dunforth.