Something Reckless (18 page)

He didn’t ask her leave, and she didn’t resist as he tugged at buttons and pushed away layers of cloth to bear her breasts entirely. In fact, she helped him by shimmying out of the way as he pushed her dress and chemise around her waist.

His head dipped down and he caught the distended nipple, suckling her until her pulse quickened and she cried out softly. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she tugged him closer, urging him to take more, to explore more. To taste her and have her in the blaring afternoon light of the parlor.

Penelope didn’t stop to analyze or question what was happening. She just
felt
. Felt Jeremy’s hands on her skin. Felt the pressure of his growing erection move against her thigh. Felt the way his panting breaths caressed her breasts.

He wanted her. She wanted him. And there was no way in hell she was going to stop this from happening. She pushed at his jacket, tossing it behind the settee carelessly and then she went to work on his shirt, tearing at buttons until she had revealed a muscular, tanned expanse of flesh. Slipping her hands beneath she shuddered at the smooth, hot skin she found there.

He felt so good. She wanted him to press her into the cushions. She wanted him to slide his erection deep into her body. And she wouldn’t be satisfied until he had.

She tugged and they fell back, his mouth finding hers a second time. His fingers began to smooth her skirts up, higher and higher, closer and closer to her core until she almost couldn’t hear anything else for the rush of blood to her ears.

And then he touched her. Lightly. Slowly. His fingers caressed the wet lips of her sex, and she shivered with a delight and an
ticipation more powerful than any she’d felt before. Because she knew that these touches would lead to an intimate joining. And because this time, the man who touched her was Jeremy.

He growled his dissatisfaction as her gown slid down over her legs again. With a tug, he pulled it and her chemise over her hips in one smooth motion. She arched up to allow him to pull her gown away, leaving her only in her stockings and slippers.

She moved to drop her hips back onto the settee, but he didn’t let her. Instead, he cupped her backside, keeping her arched as he spread her legs with his shoulders.

Penelope watched as Jeremy cupped her thighs with his warm hands and looked down at her. Heat flooded her cheeks. Her faceless lover had looked at her like this, but she hadn’t been forced to watch. But with Jeremy, she saw every strain in his jaw, every sparkle in his eyes, every parting of his lips.

Then he lifted his gaze and snagged hers.

“So beautiful, Penelope,” he whispered before he bent his head and touched his lips to her sex.

She gripped at the settee cushions with a cry of pleasure. But it was also one of frustration. She had been tasted before. She had found release at the touch of a man’s fingers, his lips. What she wanted was a far deeper connection. A joining of two bodies.

She wanted to be had. Held. Pleasured even as she gave pleasure in return.

“Please,” she panted as he swirled his tongue around the hard nub of her clit. “No more torment.”

He jerked his head up and looked at her. Then he nodded. Pushing to his feet he shed what remained of his shirt and then
kicked his boots away before he wrenched open the fastens of his trousers. Penelope sat up to lean against her elbows as the woolen fabric fell around his ankles. She sucked in a breath.

In all her midnight gropings of her secret lover, she had never been able to see his body clearly. But Jeremy stood before her, utterly naked and completely unabashed. He was hard and toned and proud as the sunlight warmed his skin. He was perfect.

Broad shoulders tapered down to an athletic, narrow waist. He had strong legs, ones that didn’t require the ridiculous padding that some gentlemen still wore to make them look bigger. And where his upper and lower body met, his strong, hard cock curled up against his stomach.

She leaned forward, shifting to her knees on the settee as she reached for him. Taking him in hand, she shivered against her will. He was so hot. So hard. She couldn’t help leaning forward and darting her tongue out to trace the rigid vein along the underside of his erection. To swirl her tongue around the sensitive head and lap up the little droplet of moisture that she found there.

Jeremy dipped his head back with a strangled moan. “I thought we weren’t tormenting anymore,” he growled as he caught her shoulders and lowered her back onto the settee.

Her legs came open as he settled between them, and her pulse began to race out of control as he positioned himself against her. She felt the hard tip of him probing her wet, soft entrance, and she stiffened as she prepared for the invasion she hadn’t experienced for over a year. The last time she felt it, it hadn’t been particularly pleasant.

“I won’t hurt you,” Jeremy said softly.

Penelope looked into his eyes in shock. Could he read her nervousness so clearly? Was that how close they had become in such a short time? She nodded.

“I trust you.”

He flinched a little at that statement, but then he leaned closer and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Look into my eyes, Penelope,” he ordered. “Don’t look away.”

Penelope hesitated. She was ready to surrender her whole body to this man. To let him claim her in an ancient and elemental way. And yet the idea of looking into his eyes seemed almost too intimate. But she finally lifted her gaze to his and held, losing herself in heated green depths.

As he stared at her, he slowly thrust forward, pressing inside her wet and ready body inch by inch. Penelope clutched at his arms as her channel stretched to accommodate him, but she never let her stare falter even as the pleasure mounted to a new and powerful height.

This
was what she had been missing all those nights with her faceless admirer. This feeling of joining. Of completion. But she had a strong feeling, as Jeremy seated himself fully in her body, that even if her lover had taken her like this, it wouldn’t have been as powerful. Because she knew Jeremy. She had longed for Jeremy.

She loved Jeremy.

Penelope blinked, and her gaze darted away from his at that strong, stark realization. Love him? Was that possible? They had come together in an intense, personal relationship over the past
few weeks, but
could
she love him? A man who had lived a life entirely opposite to hers? A man she still didn’t fully understand? A man who could hurt her so very easily if he tried?

“Penelope,” he said on a groan. “Look at me, sweetheart. Look at me.”

She forced herself to stare into his eyes. He began to thrust, so very gently, holding her gaze with a focused intensity that made the joining all the better. In his stare she saw so many things. Tangled emotions, hidden heartbreaks, and a gentleness that he rarely showed the world.

And she knew that loving him wasn’t something she could argue away or pretend hadn’t happened.

All she could do was surrender to the inevitable.

She clutched his arms and began to lift her hips to meet his shallow strokes. On each one, his pelvis ground against her sensitive clit, and the waves of pleasure built almost immediately. He held her stare evenly as he took and took, building the speed of his thrusts, increasing their depth until Penelope could no longer hold back the overwhelming tide of pleasure. It washed over her as she cried out and dug her nails into his skin. But she never looked away from him. She took advantage of the light, of the intense closeness of their faces, and she watched every flicker of pleasure, every twitch of his strong jaw.

She knew he was going to lose control a moment before he actually did. And the knowledge that she had driven him over the edge catapulted her into another strong, unexpected orgasm. They arched together, their moans mingling as he stiffened and she felt the heated warmth of his essence flood her.

Jeremy dropped his head, and their foreheads touched gently. Their breath mingled and slowed into one seamless rhythm. And she felt his rapid pulse gradually slow to match her own.

Only when the calm was complete did he tilt his head to the side and kiss her. So gentle, so sweet. She tasted herself on his mouth. Tasted the remnants of desire and her body rippled around his.

He chuckled as he rolled to the side and held her against his chest. “You’ll have to give me a moment, Penelope.”

Penelope smiled as she placed her hand against his chest. She could feel the steady beat of his heart and it comforted her. As did his warm, strong arms around her. Something had happened here. Something more than sex. Something more than the realization that she loved him.

They had made a connection. And although she knew nothing of Jeremy’s heart, he seemed to be in no hurry to dismiss her. In fact, he pulled her closer.

“Next time, I want to savor you,” he murmured against her ear.

She shivered at the promise in his tone. “Next time, eh?”

“Yes.” He pressed a kiss to her neck, and Penelope tingled. “I plan on spending an eternity simply touching your skin. And then another tasting you all over.”

She smiled again, but then she stopped. Why did those words seem so familiar?

“I want to take you, Penelope. Hard and fast. Slow and easy,” he continued.

She sat up suddenly and stared down at him. She had heard
those words before. No, not heard them. Read them. Both his statements were familiar because she had memorized them from her secret lover’s erotic letters to her.

Her eyes widened.

“Did you go through my things?” she asked, her voice cracking with the sheer impact of what she was starting to understand.

He shook his head as a look of confusion crossed his face. “Of course not, Penelope. Why would you ask me that?”

She got to her feet. “If you didn’t go through my things and read my letters, then how would you…”

She stopped as she watched Jeremy’s face twist with emotion. And suddenly the puzzle slipped into place. He knew what her letters had said because-because
he
had written them.

For weeks, Penelope had thought she had two men in her life. But now, staring down at his guilt-stricken and horrified face, she realized she’d been wrong. There was only one man.

And he had been playing her for an utter fool from the very beginning.

“How could you? How could you do this to me?” Penelope asked, her voice no more than a broken whisper as she began snatching up her discarded clothing from the floor around the settee.

Jeremy jumped to his feet and tried to catch her arm, but she staggered away from him with a cry that mimicked that of a wounded animal.

“No! Don’t you touch me.” She stared at him, holding her chemise up to her chest as a flimsy shield. “Is it true? Am I correct?”

For a moment, Jeremy pondered feigning ignorance, but he quickly dismissed that tactic. If there was one thing he knew more than any other, it was that Penelope was no fool. If he denied what she already knew to be true, it would only make matters worse. Instead, he bent and grabbed his trousers. Stepping into them, he took a long breath before he answered the question.

“Yes,” he admitted softly. “I was the man who wrote you those letters. I was the one who visited you by night.”

Penelope’s face crumpled, pain and anger twisted her mouth until her lips were painfully thin. But she said nothing. She only stared at him.

He almost would have preferred she react. Scream. Swear. Anything but that pointed, penetrating gaze that cut more deeply than any poisonous or pointed words could have.

“Why?” she finally asked.

He dipped his chin. If there was any time for honesty, this was it. “You were causing problems for so many of the men in my acquaintance with your crusade. And I…” He hesitated. He did not relish this, for he was certain it would only serve to hurt and anger Penelope all the more.

“What?” she asked, harsh and low. “What did you do?”

He released his breath in a shuddering sigh. “I drew the short straw and was asked to deal with you.”

Penelope’s nostrils flared, but that was her only outward reaction to what he’d said. Silently, she pulled her wrinkled chemise over her head and gathered up her dress. With shaking fingers, she slipped the buttons into place.

“Penelope,” he whispered.

“Please don’t say anything else,” she all but growled. “I understand completely.”

“No, you don’t,” he countered, moving toward her.

She backed away in three hurried steps. “You lost a draw and were forced to ‘deal’ with me, what else is there to understand?” She shook her head. “What were you planning to do? Seduce me then blackmail me? Or perhaps reveal me to everyone as nothing
better than a whore? Or did you think that your seduction would be so life altering that I would simply cease my endless chatter and thank God that I was asked to your bed?”

Jeremy wanted to deny her angry, pointed words, but the truth was that he
had
considered all those possibilities. One or all of them had been a part of his original plan. Only, as he came to know Penelope, those tactics had slipped away. Leaving only desire for her, and deeper feelings than a mere physical attraction.

None of which he could say when she was staring at him like he was some kind of inhuman bastard.

She moved on him when he was silent for a moment, coming toward him slowly. Her entire body was trembling by the time she came to a stop before him. Jeremy looked down at her. God, how he wanted to touch her. To draw her into his arms. To apologize. To explain—but there was no explanation. There were no words to take back what he had done. To remove the bitter pain from her eyes.

Tears welled in Penelope’s eyes, making the blue even darker. Then she reeled back and slapped him hard enough that his cheek stung.

“That is for what you did to me. Not in the dark, Jeremy. Not as the faceless lover. Not even for today when you made love to me…or perhaps we should call it ‘fucking,’ since there was nothing loving about it, only manipulation.” Her voice shook as hard as her hands as she turned on her heel and headed for the door. “It’s for betraying my friendship.”

Then she was gone, slamming the door behind her and leaving Jeremy alone in the middle of the parlor. Voiceless. And for a man
who was rarely at a loss for words, that was a powerful thing.

Quietly, he crossed to the poorboy and poured himself a stiff drink in a tall glass. He downed the alcohol in two long swigs, shutting his eyes as he heard the crunch of rocks under Penelope’s carriage wheels.

She was gone. And he had done nothing to stop her. Not that he
could
have done anything. He couldn’t deny any of her charges when each and every one of them was true. He certainly couldn’t make a plea for forgiveness that he didn’t deserve.

She thought him to be the lowest person in her acquaintance. And the fact was, she was entirely correct in her assessment.

Penelope paced restlessly around Miranda and Ethan’s ornate sitting room. Why had she come here? Here to her estranged sister’s of all places.

She sighed as she stopped to straighten her tangled hair in the mirror above the mantel. Her chest tightened at the sight of her disheveled appearance. Memories of how she had come to look so wretched slapped her as hard as she had slapped Jeremy.

With a sigh, she gave up trying to fix herself. She had come here because she had nowhere else to go. No one else to talk to.

Miranda was the only one who could possibly understand. And knowing her sister, she would offer more friendship and comfort than Penelope deserved.

At least, she
hoped
her sister would be more forgiving than she herself had been. Now when she thought of how cold, how angry she had been at Miranda, how long she’d held a grudge, Penelope was ashamed.

The door to the parlor opened, and she spun around to face her
sister. She was ready to launch herself into Miranda’s arms but stopped herself when her sister entered on the strong arm of her husband, Ethan Hamon, Earl of Rothschild. Penelope blushed as Ethan cast a quick glance over her and then shot his wife a brief look.

Penelope had never liked the Earl, even before she knew what he’d done to her sister. In her youth, she had thought him to be cold, distant, and domineering. And now she simply felt terribly awkward around him.

“Penelope,” Miranda said with a wide smile as she released Ethan’s arm and crossed the room to her.

Penelope sensed that her sister wanted to embrace her, but Miranda held back. Her heart ached. It was her own fault that Miranda hesitated. After all, she had denied her sister so many damn times as she held a prim little grudge over Miranda’s head.

“Welcome to our home,” Miranda said with a little smile.

“Yes,” Ethan said as he entered the room and shut the door quietly behind him. “We are so very pleased you’ve finally come to call on us.”

Penelope shot him a look. Was he being facetious? Certainly, Ethan couldn’t want her here, not after everything she’d said and done in regard to him. But when she met his dark eyes, she found nothing but…kindness there. Unexpected and utterly genuine, as far as she could tell.

“Th-thank you,” she stammered, uncertain of how to proceed. “I-I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to call. It was wrong of me.”

Miranda stared at her for a long moment, and Penelope saw the sparkling hint of tears in the blue eyes that looked so much like her own.

“You never have to apologize to me,” Miranda whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. “You are here now and that is all that matters.”

Ethan smiled at the two of them. “I merely came to greet you, Penelope. But I have, er, something to attend to. I hope you’ll join us for supper.”

Miranda smiled as her husband bowed out of the room, leaving them alone. “He doesn’t have anything to do. He just wanted us to be able to talk.”

Penelope nodded. “I suspected as much.”

Her sister’s smile fell a fraction, and she motioned to the settee in front of the merry fire. “Come, sit down. I can see in your eyes and by your appearance that something has happened. It is the only reason I can think of that you would come to me. Why don’t you tell me what it is and perhaps I can help you. Is it Mama?”

Penelope moved toward the settee, but she didn’t sit down. Instead, she covered her eyes and let the tears she had been holding back for so long…it seemed like forever…begin to fall.

“Oh, Miranda. I have made such an utter muck of everything!”

Miranda made a soft sound of distress and then Penelope was in her arms. They sat down together, and she buried her face into her older sister’s neck and simply sobbed. Miranda held tight, not speaking, not offering any comfort other than her warm embrace and her gentle, calming presence.

Once Penelope’s tears had eased, her sister drew back and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “Tell me.”

Drawing a shuddering breath, Penelope began to choke out the entire sordid story.

An hour later, Miranda had a drink in her hand and she let out a low whistle.

“Good heavens, you do know how to put yourself into a mess.”

Penelope nodded as she sipped her own strong shot of whiskey that Miranda had nicked from Ethan’s private collection about halfway through Penelope’s tale. The burning heat of the liquor calmed her at least a little, though it didn’t numb her emotions, no matter how much she wished for it.

“I have been so utterly hideous, Miranda. Especially to you. I judged you so harshly for what you did to protect our family. I stole so much time from myself. And here I ended up doing something even more shocking, and not for half of your good reasons.” She reached out and touched her sister’s hand. “I am so very sorry, Miranda.”

Miranda sat down on the edge of the settee beside her, shaking her head. “Dearest, when you saw Ethan and I together, it frightened and upset you. You felt betrayed and confused by my actions, as well as my later explanations. I never blamed you for that. I only wish I could have helped you before now. Counseled you.”

Penelope barked out a humorless laugh. “I needed your counsel. Perhaps if I had turned to you from the very beginning, I wouldn’t have been such a naive little fool when it came to Jeremy and my ‘secret lover.’” Penelope dipped her head as more bitter tears threatened. “He must have been laughing at me all along.”

Miranda set her drink aside with an incredulous expression. “From everything you told me about your encounter this afternoon, I somehow doubt that Kilgrath has been laughing. It sounds
to me like he has been just as confused as you have been.”

“Oh no, he was so utterly in control.” Penelope downed the remainder of her drink. She thought of Ethan’s expression when he confessed all he had done to her. He had been so calm, so strong…so handsome.

God, she was hopeless, even now.

“Was he?” Miranda asked. “If he was truly in control, why didn’t he simply reveal you that night at the ball when he first touched you? Or later, after you spent a night together? Why didn’t he blackmail you, as he originally planned.”

Penelope frowned. She had been so angry when she realized what Jeremy had done and why, she hadn’t stopped to think of those questions.

“He certainly had enough ammunition against me to end my crusade,” she admitted slowly. “I gave him more than enough with my wanton behavior.”

Miranda shook her head. “Stop! Never berate yourself for what you felt. You have every right to experience desire. And pleasure. And to want more than empty loneliness. Those things are never wrong. Sometimes what people do in the pursuit of them is wrong, but the feelings, the needs, aren’t.”

Penelope sighed as she covered her face with her hands. “Oh, I’m so very, very confused.”

“I know,” her sister whispered. “I understand completely.”

Penelope peeked at her sister from between her fingers, but before she could pursue Miranda’s cryptic comment any further, the door opened and Ethan reappeared. He looked at Miranda, and it seemed like a world of communication passed between them in just that glance.

He crossed the room, and Miranda got to her feet to let him sit down beside Penelope. She lowered her hands and looked at him. He met her stare with an even and kind one of his own before he reached out and took both her hands.

“Penelope,” he said softly. “Who do I have to kill for making you look so forlorn?”

Penelope laughed, the first one that felt real in weeks. His smile was her reward, and she couldn’t help but notice just how ridiculously handsome a man Ethan was. She had forgotten that in the years she’d made him into a monster in her head. What else had she overlooked with her blind prejudice?

“No one,” she said, squeezing his hands. “I’m afraid all of this is of my own doing.”

Miranda smiled as she pressed a hand against her husband’s shoulder and looked down at Penelope. “I’m not certain I agree with your assessment, but we shall leave that be for a while. The question remains, what shall you do?”

Penelope looked at the easy way Miranda and Ethan were a team. There was a unity there that she had never accepted. They were a good match. Anyone could see it after five minutes in their company. Yet Penelope knew that good match had come out of something so questionable.

Did that mean that there was hope for her? If Miranda was correct, and she had somehow moved Jeremy with the same intensity he moved her, could they mend the lies between them? Could she find some kind of sincerity hidden in the layers of manipulation that brought them together?

More to the point, did she want to?

She covered her face again. “I don’t know.”

It was Ethan who answered. “You don’t have to know right now. Just stay for supper. Stay as long as you like. And we’ll help you work something out.”

Penelope nodded. “Let me write a note to my staff to tell them I’ll be out for the evening.”

As Ethan moved to summon a servant, Penelope sighed. As comforting as it was to be in the company of her sister again, she had no illusions that she’d find any kind of solution to her problems today. Or tomorrow. Or perhaps ever.

The pain in her heart felt too deep to overcome.

The dark was no comfort to Jeremy, nor was the ridiculously expensive scotch he was downing not in sips, but great gulps. It might as well have been water for all his enjoyment.

But then, perhaps he didn’t deserve enjoyment. Or even the numbing effect of the alcohol. Not after what he’d done.