Any Wicked Thing (29 page)

F
rederica had been unable to nap, although she had tried, lying on her bed for half an hour after she dried off, staring at the timbers across her ceiling. Her body was in a state of agitation—the slightest press of fabric against her skin reminded her of Sebastian's tongue. The swipe of the washrag at her nether region brought her nearly to orgasm. Her nose was filled with the smell of him, the starch and sandalwood, the semen, although he'd been thoughtful at least in the end. She blushed to think of all that he had done to her, and she to him, over the past few days. And now according to Alice she was to take tea with him like a proper young lady, as though they had not been rolling around at the waterfall like crazed animals in a rainstorm.

She would swear off him tomorrow—no fencing or cleaning or setting eyes upon him. She needed to retreat into her library world, review her notes, finish a chapter. This afternoon he might take her again up against the wall after his whiskey—and she so hoped he wouldn't, didn't she?—but the next day was hers to command.

She was drowning in sensation, and didn't like it one bit. Sebastian had the power to unsettle her, she who was logical and private with her feelings. Apart from her almost-dead, girlish crush on him, Frederica had spent her whole life submerging herself in scholarly pursuits. There had been no room for anything or anyone else. But he had kissed her everywhere, touched her everywhere—spanked her, for heaven's sake—and she simply wanted more. It was like eating too many cunning marzipan fruits. One day she would be sick from the richness of it, but right now she longed for the taste of almond paste on her tongue.

She dragged herself off the bed to change her dress and do something about the nest in her hair. She did miss her runaway maid, but now that Frederica had experienced lust for herself, she understood why the girl had fled with the footman. Although there were plenty of places in the castle one could go to for a forbidden assignation. She would have to find one on one of her days just to keep Sebastian off balance.

But it was still his day. She would not make it any easier for him. Choosing a deep gray charcoal dress that did nothing whatsoever for her figure and seemed to have a thousand damned difficult buttons, she braided her hair into a coronet and refused to pinch her cheeks or bite her lips for color. She looked as tired as she was, robbed of sleep and still weak at the knees from riding herself into orgasm.

If it weren't raining, the sun would now be low over the distant hills. If Sebastian weren't here, tea would be her last meal of the day, and she would take it in the kitchen with the servants. Now poor Mrs. Holloway was knocking herself out for tea
and
dinner to please the duke even if he had no coin to pay her and the larder was emptying at an alarming rate.

She was not going to spend the next two years pinching pennies and living solely by the kitchen garden. But perhaps she could convince him to release all her funds. He had the power to do so, and they could be quit of each other forever.

She entered the solar, her mind filled with vexing domestic difficulties. When the tall fair man rose to greet her, she was so startled she squeaked.

“Good afternoon, Miss Wells. I am delighted to make your acquaintance. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Cameron Ryder, an old friend of His Grace the Duke of Roxbury.”

“Oh!” This was one of the men Sebastian had invited to the castle to buy it. And the same man who helped him get out of gaol. He was quite formidable physically, and almost too beautiful. If Sebastian was a dark angel, Cameron Ryder was all light. But he had the same devilish twinkle in his eye as his friend the duke. Birds of a feather, rakes taking pleasure wherever they landed. She felt her tongue thickening with nervous stupidity.

“I didn't mean to surprise you so. My arrival was unexpected. And apparently unwelcome. I understand you and Sebastian have entered into an agreement for you to purchase Archibald Castle. Or Goddard Castle, as it is called now.”

Frederica stiffened. “He
told
you?”

“Why, yes. Is it a secret? I assure you, I can be the most discreet of fellows. And I don't know a soul in Yorkshire, although my family hails from around these parts.”

Frederica practically fell down on the sofa. Her hands shook so badly she didn't think she could possibly pour the tea that sat in its dented silver pot. Once again, Mrs. Holloway had outdone herself. There was even an entire decanter of whiskey for Sebastian and his guest, which Frederica very much wanted to pick up and drink down, even though spirits disagreed with her most profoundly.

“I say, Miss Wells, are you all right? You look as though you've seen a ghost. One of the famous Archibald Walkers. Even I have heard of them. Am I to expect a display at midnight?”

“By midnight I shall be in my own bed, and you are certainly not welcome to see any display!” How could Sebastian betray her like this? It was bad enough that the servants suspected what she had to submit to in order to keep her shelter, but to involve this stranger was beyond belief. Would Sebastian expect her to service this blond giant, too? Frederica felt a wave of dizziness swamp her.

“Well, of course not. I would never intrude. Unless, of course, I was invited.”

“Oh! You—you—you are every bit as bad as Sebastian.”

He reached for a sandwich, smiling. “Guilty as charged. I think we're getting off on the wrong foot, Miss Wells. You have misunderstood me. I was referring to the ghosts putting on a show for me, not you. Although no man could be averse to your womanly charms. Sebastian seems quite in your thrall. I've never seen him so besotted. He's warned me off, you know, and disinvited me from staying any longer than three days. He wants you all to himself.”

Well, she supposed that was a relief. But for Sebastian to be discussing her and what they did with Cameron Ryder—it was disgusting. Men were disgusting. Rutting, rude, abominable pigs, every one of them.

“Uh,” she said.

“You are aware of his feelings?”

“Sebastian has no feelings, only appetites,” she grumbled.

Mr. Ryder continued his menacing, catlike grin. “Speaking of appetites, would you mind very much if I help myself to a whiskey? I've had a long day of travel, and I'm parched.”

“Suit yourself.” If he thought she would act as a proper hostess, he was mistaken. She folded her hands tightly in her lap, leaving the tempting morsels on the tea tray untouched.

“Ah, there's my old friend now. Sebastian, you dog! Your description did not do Miss Wells justice. You never told me how lovely she is. I can see why you want me to disappear.”

Frederica snorted. Sebastian cast her a guilty look and sat down next to her, much too close. She scrunched into the arm of the sofa, noticing how very worn the velvet was. One good pointed elbow on it and it would shred.

“Cam, I'll have some of that if you're pouring. Freddie, you're not taking tea?”

“I am not hungry. Or thirsty. In fact, I'd like to skip tea and dinner altogether if you will
permit
it.” How galling to grovel in front of Mr. Ryder.

“Ah, Miss Wells, I hope you change your mind. I'd like the opportunity to get to know you better before Sebastian throws me out. It doesn't seem fair that he gets to have all the fun.”

Frederica leaped up abruptly, her knees rattling the tea table. “Mr. Ryder, if you will excuse us a moment, I'd like a private word with the duke.”

“Certainly. I'll just go wander out in the hall with my whiskey, shall I?” He loped off with a smooth grace that Frederica found too provoking.

She turned to Sebastian, who was biting into a jam tart.

“Sebastian,” Frederica hissed, “how could you tell him?”

“Tell him what?” he asked, once he'd swallowed.

“About your blackmail. How I'm bedding you so you will sell me the castle.”

Sebastian raised both eyebrows and opened his mouth, the perfect picture of surprise. “I never said such a thing! Honestly. Freddie, you must believe me. And anyway, it was your own damn idea! I'm not blackmailing you—you're blackmailing me!”

“He knows. He
smirks
.”

“Oh, that's just Cam's smile. He always looks like a tomcat who's gotten into the cream. Now, I did tell him you had offered to buy the castle, but not a word about the strings attached. I'd canceled his visit, Freddie. His and Sanderson's both. Bloody hell, I hope he doesn't turn up, too.” Sebastian took a large swig of whiskey. “Freddie, I know you think me an utter cad, and in general you are right, but I most assuredly did
not
tell Cam that we are playing at domination and submission. You can flog me with my best crop tomorrow if you don't believe me, but know you will be beating an innocent man.”

“You! The last time you were innocent, you were in your mother's womb.” Frederica stumbled away from the couch and went back to unravel more of the tapestry.

He was behind her in an instant, his whiskey breath hot on her neck. How she wished she wore a fichu. “Freddie. I would never compromise your reputation.”

“No, just compromise
me
! Just today you f-fucked me outside again where anyone could have come upon us!”

She felt his smile on her skin. “Oh, Freddie, I love it when you talk dirty. And if the damn servants weren't so nosy, I could fuck you inside.”

She stomped on his boot to very little effect, since he put his arms around her and cradled her to his chest, his hands going straight to her breasts. He circled her nipples with unerring skill and nibbled on her left earlobe.

“Look,” he rasped into her ear, “I'm sorry he's here. So very sorry. He'll be gone in three days.”

Frederica felt herself slipping under his spell again. His breaths, his touches, the timbre of his voice all combined to send signals directly to the juncture of her thighs. She would be dripping on her feet in a minute. This would not do. She pushed back against him, recognizing by his erection he was as aroused as she. “At least you'll have to stop bothering me while he's here.”

Sebastian turned her around so she was facing him, so close she could count the dark whiskers that were shadowing his jaw. “What do you mean?”

No more talking dirty. He liked it too well. “Well, you can't—we can't—you know.”

Sebastian grinned, looking like a tomcat himself. “Of course we can. Fortunate for you that two of those next three days are yours, but the day after tomorrow I expect you to do just as I say, whatever it is, from midnight to midnight.”

She shoved him. “Oh! You are horrible.”

“And you wouldn't have me any other way. I'm going to kiss you now, Freddie, even if you look like a drab bird at the moment. That is the ugliest dress. But it doesn't matter what you wear, you know. I'll have you anyway.”

His lips came down on hers. Despite the warning, she didn't move fast enough and his tongue edged the seam of her lips open. The tea grew cold as she lost herself in his arms, swept away by irritating, undeniable passion. When he released her she knew she was pink and disheveled. And embarrassingly wet yet again.

“Sit down now and have a cup of tea. Some biscuits. I'm going to call Cam in, and you are going to behave just as you ought. But watch out for him. He's a dreadful rake.”

“It takes one to know one,” she said sourly, arranging herself and her ugly dress on the sofa, wondering if she'd have a damp spot on the back of it when she stood.

“Precisely. You are mine, Freddie, for the rest of the month. Don't forget it.”

Frederica felt a shiver down her spine. When he looked at her like that, when he spoke to her like that, she couldn't imagine what June would be like without him.

She heard the masculine rumbling between the two men out in the hallway, but couldn't catch the words. Feeling reckless, she filled her teacup half-full of whiskey, reconsidered, then filled it to the brim. Dutch courage would be required to get through the hours until midnight. She needed to begin anew with this Mr. Ryder, who probably thought she was a madwoman.

Which, she reflected, she was.

C
am was lounging on a long dusty bench. He had used a fingertip to spell his name on it while he was waiting, and his glass was empty. That kiss had gone on awhile, but not quite as long as Sebastian wished. He shifted his cock in his breeches before he sat down. Cam did indeed smirk at him.

“She's rather adorable, like a pixie, but you didn't mention she was more or less cracked, Sebastian.
This
is the girl who caused you all the trouble when you were a pup? I must say, she doesn't look at all like a femme fatale.”