Too Wicked to Wed (17 page)

“I wouldn’t wager on that—I have a
very
vivid imagination,” murmured Alexa as she put aside the poker and took a tentative seat on the sun-bleached chintz.

Suzy flashed an encouraging smile. “Think how boring life would be without it.”

A weak twitch of her lips was all Alexa could muster in reply.

“Not that anyone could accuse Connor Linsley of being a boring man. A great many other things, perhaps, but
never
boring.” There was a fraction of a pause. “However, you know that.”

And would give a monkey to know a great deal more.

As if divining her thoughts, Suzy tapped a finger to her chin. “Let me see how to put this simply and without too much fuss. You are already aware that Connor owns a brothel, and that I was one of the girls that worked there.”

Alexa nodded.

“I assume that I needn’t go into the sordid details of what that entailed. Suffice it to say that I was born in the slums of Southwark and when my parents succumbed to an outbreak of influenza, leaving me homeless and penniless, I did what I had to in order to survive.”

“I—I understand,” she whispered.

“Word on the streets was that The Wolf’s Lair was a very good place to work, and jobs there were sought after. Connor was known to provide decent wages, decent food, and decent living conditions. He was fair, when most of the bosses in the business were slimier than pond scum. And for those of us who showed an interest in bettering our position in life, as it were, he was more than fair. He became a protector of sorts.”

Alexa hadn’t realized that her knuckles had turned white until Suzy reached over and gently pried her fingers apart.

“I’m sorry if this is disturbing to you. Shall I stop?”

“No, please. I need to know.” To her relief, Suzy was tactful enough not to ask why. “You may, however skip over the blow-by-blow descriptions of his prowess in bed. I am not so innocent that I don’t know what ‘protector’ means.”

“In this case you are very wrong.” Suzy still had a grip on her wrist. “I did not have sex with Connor. What I meant was, he listened to us, helped us learn about running a business. I had always had a dream of having a tavern—a respectable tavern—of my own some day, and Connor encouraged me to believe it was possible.” Suzy’s voice betrayed a tiny tremor. “Hell, he would say if an earl could be a pimp, a slut could certainly be a barkeeper.”

Alexa didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

“In short, he became a friend. He let me hang around the stock room and the back office in my spare time, picking up little tricks of the trade while I saved my earnings. And when he heard through one of his suppliers of rum that a snug little place was for sale in Lyme Regis, he insisted on loaning me the additional blunt I needed to make the purchase.”

Whatever she had expected, it wasn’t this.

“And I owe him for much more than that,” went on Suzy. “It was Connor who suggested that Drew stay at my tavern.”

“I—I see.”

“I wasn’t the only girl he helped over the years. Indeed, his present predicament is due in part to him having given a large amount of blunt to Mary McGovern for the down payment on a tavern along the Great Northern Road.”

Thinking how her recent actions had compounded the Wolfhound’s financial troubles, Alexa felt ashamed of herself. “I have been horribly unfair in my assumptions regarding Killingworth’s character. Not to speak of adding an unwelcome complication to his life.” She bit her lip. “He is right in thinking that he would be far better off without me here.”

“Don’t sell yourself short—” Suzy’s mouth quirked. “Sorry, that was merely a turn of phrase. No offense meant.”

Alexa managed a bleak smile. “None taken.”

“What I meant was, you may be just the person to beat him at his own game.”

“Ha,” she said hollowly. “I’m afraid you greatly overestimate my skills. It’s become quite clear to me that I’m no match for the Wolfhound.”

“Ha,” echoed Suzy, a spark of amusement lighting her eyes. “Time will tell. Don’t be so quick to fold your hand,” she counseled. “Connor Linsley may have experience on his side, but I wager that in this particular game of hearts, the two of you are very much equals.”

“Hearts?” sighed Alexa. “He claims he doesn’t have one.”

“That, my dear, is what they all say.”

Chapter Fifteen

T
he visit of his friends seemed to have left a lingering warmth, for the next few days dawned sunny and mild. As Connor climbed through the steep turn in the path, the pale, pearlescent light had already burned off the morning mists. A gentle breeze rippled through the meadow grasses, and overhead a lone hawk floated in lazy circles, intent on its hunt.

He, too, liked the solitary splendor of the moors. He had risen early…

But apparently not early enough.

Connor watched as Alexa twirled something in her fingers and held it up at arm’s length. She was so intent on studying it that she wasn’t aware of his approach until his shadow fell across her face.

Like a stormcloud. Dark, foreboding.

Would that he could bring more than the threat of thunder and rain into her life.

At the moment, however, her expression was sunny. “Oh, look, sir! Isn’t it lovely?”

He squinted, having not the slightest idea what she was talking about.

“The
goat hair
, Killingworth,” She gave a little wave and he saw a twist of long, silky fibers unfurl in the breeze. “Lud, and I thought it was only flighty females who walked around woolgathering.”

The comment teased a smile to his lips. Their conversations had taken on a more relaxed note, as if they had both become used to each other’s presence. For him, he realized wryly, the experience had been rather like breaking in a new pair of boots—the leather stiff and unyielding, rubbing raw against the flesh, then gradually softening, and molding to a very comfortable fit. Her feisty show of spirit was now more apt to provoke a smile than a flare of temper.

As for arousing any other reaction…Connor forced his eyes away from the swell of her bosom. “Should I be impressed?”

“Look at the subtlety of the colors.” She turned, her face alight with enthusiasm. “Dove gray, buttery cream, warm ochre.”

“I shall take your word for it.” Connor held out his hand, but as she made to press the wool into his palm, he kept hold of her. “Might I tear you away from your four-footed companions to walk with me?”

Her brow clouded. “More news from Town?”

“No.” A letter had finally arrived from Cameron yesterday, but the gist of it had merely echoed Chatsworth’s admonition to remain in hiding. “Though,” he added gruffly, “we must soon do something to end the present situation. You cannot remain here much longer.”

Alexa watched the wisp of wool float away. “I shall be sorry to go.”

So will I
, realized Connor. But that was a path he would not allow his thoughts to tread.

Turning abruptly, he started up the hill. “Have you seen the view from the cliffs? It is quite dramatic when the tide is coming in.”

Water and rock.
Two immutable forces of nature hitting up against each other seemed an apt expression of his current mood.
Duty and desire.

“You seem quite recovered from your wound.” Alexa had no trouble keeping pace, matching him stride for stride. “Indeed, the fresh air and daily walks look to have done you a world of good.”

“How impertinent of you to remark on it.” In truth, the looking glass reflected much the same thing. The sun had burned the sallowness of the slums from his complexion, and physical exercise had gone a long way to banishing the telltale signs of too little sleep and too much brandy.

“What else do you expect from a fast and forward miss?” she replied with an unrepentant grin.

“Fast and forward, indeed—might I request that you not try to break the track record at Epsom Downs.” Connor allowed her to forge a little ahead, just to enjoy the coltish grace of her long legs. “Do you bring such an unbridled enthusiasm to everything you do, Lady Alexa?” he called, after watching her scramble over an outcropping. “It’s unusual in a gently bred young lady.”

“And unbecoming?” She halted, giving a toss of her loosened curls and lifting her face to the sun. “Uncle Frederick puts it more bluntly, telling Father he has been remiss in not breaking me to saddle.” Her mouth pinched. “Lud, how that makes my blood boil! As if I were some filly to be put up for auction at Tattersall’s, trained for docility and to serve as a brood mare.”

Connor drew even with her. “You don’t wish to have children?”

Her hesitation, though slight, did not go unnoticed. “Yes, I would. But not just to service the needs of a gentleman who feels dutybound to beget an heir. I—I should like a more meaningful relationship.” She paused again. “One of mutual regard and understanding, not a mere marriage of convenience, where we share nothing in common but a name.”

Any man who took Alexa Hendrie to wife would be a bloody fool not to appreciate her unique spirit, mused Connor—then quickly shoved the thought from his mind. He had more than enough trouble to cope with.

“Not that such a thing is likely,” she added with a rueful grimace. “I am too bossy and too opinionated. Uncle Frederick says I scare off gentlemen, as no doubt you would agree. And since I am unlikely to change, I have accepted the fact that I am headed down the path of spinsterhood. At a full gallop. But at least there is no one on my back, trying to control me with whip and spurs.”

“You want my opinion?” asked Connor slowly.

Alexa shrugged, but he saw her shoulders stiffen as if to steel herself for a blow.

“Your Uncle Frederick sounds like a complete and utter ass.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. She appeared uncertain of how to respond and abruptly turned her gaze to the rocky pasture. “Oh, look—
Hallooo!
”

Connor saw that she was waving to a man who was cutting a methodical zigzag through the tall grasses. In front of him, a wiry black and white dog was darting to and fro, nipping at the heels of several balky goats and herding them toward a gate at the far corner of the stone fence.

The man returned her greeting and continued on his way.

“Speaking of my penchant for taking the bull—or in this case a slightly smaller beast—by the horns, sir,” said Alexa. “I have taken the liberty of asking Mr. Stellings to round up all the goats from the hills, so that we may get a proper count. He has some experience in shepherding, and the extra bit of money will be welcome to the family.”

Not
the
goats, but
his
goats, Connor was about to point out.

However, Alexa seemed to anticipate the remark. “I know you think me interfering, but Mr. Daggett gave me money—a draft that Sebastian will repay, so in a sense it is mine to spend as I see fit. And as the benefit is to your advantage, I should think you would have no objection.”

“Such reasoning would put Machiavelli to blush,” he replied, though not unkindly. “You are a devilishly shrewd negotiator. But have a care about ever mentioning to Sebastian that the money had anything to do with me. He would not approve.”

They walked on for a bit before she asked, “Why? Seb seems to bristle at the mere mention of your name.”

“No gentleman of conscience wants a disreputable rake sniffing around his sister’s skirts.”

Alexa made a face. “Oh, bosh. Surely he knows that you’re no threat to me.”

“Considering that I have kissed you most thoroughly and tumbled you half naked into my bed, I doubt he would agree,” said Connor.

A flush of color rose to her cheeks. “My brother does not hold the reins to my actions. Nor does any man.”

“Apparently not,” he replied dryly. “Else you would not be running wild—”

A skittering of stones cut him off as she suddenly leapt forward.

An instant later he heard the noise too—a faint but unmistakable bleat punctuating the crash and ebb of the sea. Following hard on her heels, Connor caught a glimpse of the tiny kid, stuck on a ledge way below the edge of the cliffs.

As Alexa started to scramble over an outcropping of rocks, he grabbed her arm. “What the devil are you doing?”

“It’s too frightened to move on its own.”

“Bloody hell, Alexa! You can’t save every damn stray you stumble upon!”

Her chin took a jut that matched the surrounding stones. “I can try.”

Muttering another oath, Connor shifted his grip and led her over a patch of loose scree. Edging past a tumble of boulders, he could now see that there was a narrow trail, barely wider than the span of his hand, leading down to where the frightened animal lay hunched against the whipping wind.

“Stay here,” he ordered, slipping off his coat.

“But I can—”

“For God’s sake, do as I say! One gust, and your skirts will turn into a kite, flying you straight out to sea.”

She had the sense to step back, clutching the balled garment to her chest. “Please—be careful.”

“Don’t worry,” he muttered, inching his boots along the windblown rock. “Having made it made it this far in life, I have no intention of cocking up my toes for a bit of fluff and hooves.”

A sliver of shale broke away from beneath his foot and was quickly swallowed up by the pounding surf.
Was he really risking his hide for a baby goat?
Through the linen of his shirt, Connor was aware of the knife-edged rocks cutting against his back.

As if he needed any reminder of his precarious position.

On finally reaching the ledge, he gave silent thanks that the kid was too petrified to kick up any protest as his fingers curled into its shaggy hair. Hell, just one lashing of the spindly legs would send them both tumbling into the surging surf far below.

So far, so good.
Hugging the tiny animal to his chest, he started back to the top, taking care to keep his gaze from drifting downward.

Alexa’s eager hands steadied his last few steps.

“Oh, sir! You were absolutely magnificent!”

I was absolutely idiotic.
And yet, for some reason, Connor felt ridiculously proud of himself.

“You might as well wrap my coat around the cursed little beast,” he grumbled. “I am sure that you are going to insist that I carry it back to its mama.”

“You see, I told you that you would make a very good farmer.” Her voice was soft as the tangle of wool between them.

“Hmmph. I only did it to keep you from breaking your neck.”

She paused in arranging the last few folds of the garment. “I don’t believe that, sir. Though you take pains to hide it, you take care of your flock.”

Damn Suzy.

“Whatever fanciful story you have been told, take it with a grain of salt,” he snapped. “Mrs. Chatsworth is a romantic at heart and wishes to see the rest of the world as all sweetness and light. We both know it isn’t.”

“On the contrary,” countered Alexa. “Your friend struck me as someone who has a very clear view of the world as it is. She must also be an excellent judge of human nature, to have survived the adversities she has faced in life.”

“Well, she will be damn lucky to survive the paddling of her shapely little bum when next she comes within an arm’s length of me,” he retorted.

“Ha! I wouldn’t care to wager on the outcome. I imagine that she can hold her own in hand-to-hand combat.”

Connor snorted to cover his chuckle.

“It puzzles her why you wish to appear all tooth and nails, when at heart—”

“Now it is you who is treading on dangerous ground,” he warned.

“Very well, I will back off. I suppose I have pushed you far enough today. But…” Alexa angled her chin up over a tiny hoof. “Don’t think I don’t see what’s right in front of my nose.”

Several dozen of the shaggy goats had been herded into one of the fenced fields. Climbing over the stile, Connor released the kid from the confines of his coat. It unfolded its knobby limbs, gave a small shake, and bounded away, seemingly no worse for wear after its recent brush with disaster.

Connor rubbed at his bruised shoulder. Youth had a blessedly short memory. While age brought with it a lingering…

“Are you hurt, sir?”

“Oh, no—I believe there are still a few shreds of flesh attached to my back.”

Alexa bit back a laugh. “Show a little backbone, sir. It wasn’t all that steep a descent, or all that narrow a way.”

“Ungrateful chit.” He turned to help her down the planked steps. “A wet noodle would have been easier to slide down, and would have provided firmer footing.”

As she made to retort, her half boot slipped on the mossy wood, pitching her into a headlong fall. Connor stumbled back a step but managed to catch her around the waist.

“Sorry,” she gasped, before falling into a fit of giggling. “Lud, you really have had your arms full this afternoon.”

Her hands had come to be entwined around his neck, her curls tickling his cheek with silky softness and the scent of verbena.

“You feel and smell a good deal more pleasant than a goat, Lady Alexa.”

With her breasts pressed flat against his chest and her skirts rucked in a flapping tangle around his hips, she was in no position to argue. “I am no doubt a good deal heavier as well. More like an ox, I would say, so feel free to put me down whenever you like.”

He would have liked to hold her a bit longer, but dutifully loosened his grip, just enough to allow her thighs to slip in a slow, tantalizing drag down the front of his breeches.

Her feet touched the ground, yet she seemed unaware that her fingers were still clasped around his neck and her upturned lips, ripe with wry amusement, only inches from his.

Heedless of the consequences, he slanted a kiss over her mouth.

With a shuddering moan, she arched into him.

And gentlemanly scruples went galloping off with the goats.
His response was no longer governed by rational thought. Like a randy beast, he was acting out of pure, primal instinct.

Falling back against the oak post, he lifted her up, sliding his hands beneath her skirts. The breeze tugged at muslin and lace, tangling his touch in the finespun cloth and the silky softness of her skin. The heat of her thrummed through his fingertips, steeling his manhood to instant arousal. As he and his comrades had often noted in the aftermath of battle, there was nothing like a brush with mortal danger to enflame the most basic of human passions.