Too Wicked to Wed (19 page)

Clinging to his shoulders, she eagerly matched his rhythm. Limbs entwined, he felt her heart pounding, in perfect harmony with his own. So close. Her touch awakening hope, even though he had sworn never to make himself so vulnerable.

“Hold me tight, Connor.” The words, so trusting, feathered against his cheek. “I shall be lost without you.” He could feel the tension mounting within her, straining to break free.

“I have you, Alexa.” His hands guided her hips higher, joining them more deeply. Like liquid honey, her warmth enveloped him. Two as one, cresting in yet another exquisite wave of pleasure, before she shuddered beneath him and gave voice to a cry of ethereal sweetness.

His own limbs trembling, Connor was not sure whether to laugh or cry. Reveling in her wonder, he was only dimly aware of the darker note thrumming through his head. He must withdraw in the next instant or risk getting her with child. The idea of Alexa, growing full and round with his seed, should have added extra urgency to the warning.

And yet rather than heed the danger, he surged forward, his own hoarse exultation echoing the thunder in the distant moors.

Chapter Eighteen

C
onnor angled his muzzy gaze to the leaded windows, finding that he had awoken to a glorious new world. The storm had blown over, and the first light of the unclouded dawn was spilling across the bed, highlighting the waves of wheaten curls fanned out upon the pillows. Copper and brass intertwined with an ethereal shade of pure gold. It was a treasure to behold, and for a moment he held his breath, feeling rich beyond measure.

Then closing his eyes, he pressed a hand to his brow, roughly reminding himself that it was naught but an illusion.

Fool’s gold.

He was no true alchemist, who had created something precious out of base metal, merely a charlatan. Or worse, a plundering pirate. Sailing in on a surfeit of spirits, he had simply stolen what he could not dream of having by any legitimate means.

The dull throbbing in his head grew more. No doubt he deserved to be flogged and hung from the yardarm…

Alexa stirred, rousing him from such grim reveries. Still asleep, she had tugged free of the coverlet and lay in sun-kissed splendor, naked on the sheet still warm and rumpled from their lovemaking. A small smile played on her lips, and as she stretched her shapely legs and rolled onto her side, it grew wider.

“Mmmm.” Purring softly, she gave another feline stretch and snuggled closer, the curve of her derriere brushing up against his groin.

Despite his feelings of guilt, Connor felt a savage rush of pleasure at the touch of her flesh. Reaching out, he drew her close, molding her body to his. He lay very still, holding her tight. The scent of sweet verbena and lavender tickled his senses. Yet there was a new undertone to her perfume as well, an earthier musk, seductive in its hints of smoky passion. It took him an instant to realize that part of the lushness was his own essence suffusing her skin. Marking her in some indelible way as his.

What would it be like to awake each morning with her in his arms?

He stifled a groan, not quite sure whether he wished to laugh, or cry, or howl to the heavens.

Lady Luck was a hard mistress. Given the circumstances, he had no honorable right to contemplate such a partnership. In some primal way, the Wolfhound had claimed her as his own. But as dawn took on a harsher glare, he recognized that the situation they now found themselves in was a good deal more complicated than elemental feelings.

An innocent young lady and a hardbitten rake?

As an experienced gambler, he should have known the odds were stacked against them. It was unfair that he had robbed Alexa of her future. Despite all the vicious gossip, Connor had always thought of himself as an honorable man.

But now…

Ever so gently, the earl loosened his grip. Alexa made a murmur of protest as he pulled away, her hand groping for his. He eluded her sleepy search with ease. After all, he had a great deal of practice in avoiding entanglements. Both his parents had been selfish, uncaring, and over the years he had often wondered whether it was hereditary, like a title. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he had remained aloof. And alone.

Always alone.

Tucking the sheet up over her hips, he gathered up his clothing and quietly quitted the room.

Connor.

Alexa whispered his name to herself several times over, delighting in the lilt of it on her tongue. The sound seemed to fit him—hard, yet soft. Slightly exotic.
Overwhelmingly male.

“Connor?”

Her outstretched hand touched naught but a twist of linen. Suddenly wide awake, Alexa sat up to find herself alone. The sheet fell away, but despite the draft from the window, her skin took on a tingling heat as she remembered just how she had come to be sleeping naked in the earl’s bed.

Shifting slightly, she was vaguely aware of a pinch of soreness between her legs, but the small discomfort quickly gave way to the memory of Connor exploring the length and breath of her body. Recalling the depth of their intimacy sent another little shivering thrill through her core.

Hot and cold—she wasn’t quite sure.

All the rules said what had happened between them was wrong. And yet it had felt so…right. No doubt the worldly Suzy Chatsworth could help explain the mystery of it. But Suzy was not here. And as Alexa fingered the pillows, which still bore the faint mark of the Wolfhound’s profile, she decided it was a conundrum that she had to figure out for herself.

Where had he gone?

Rising, Alexa retrieved her nightrail from the carpet and went to the windows, wondering if she might catch a glimpse of him walking the hills.
Alone and aloof.
Was that how he meant to go on? The thought that he might already be regretting the night turned the dancing fire inside her into ashes.

She could follow, of course, and convince him there was no reason for recriminations.

Perhaps.

She could reason, she could plead, she could cajole…But what she could not do was make him love her.

Alexa knew that—she knew in her heart. Pressing her cheek to the cool glass, she allowed the truth to seep through her body, though it chilled her to the very marrow.

Soon—all too soon—she would have to leave. So far they had been lucky in skirting scandal, but the charade could not go on forever. Back she would go to Yorkshire, and yet she knew some integral part of her would always remain here. There would always be a tiny void somewhere deep inside and the ache of it would never quite go away. She would survive, of course. Unlike a horrid novel heroine, she was far too practical and pragmatic to fall into a state of permanent decline over love.

Love.

As if that were any consolation.

She stood for a moment longer, watching the sunlight play hide-and-seek among scudding clouds. Her chin rose. She would not let shadows mar the day. If memories of Connor and Linsley Close were all that she would take with her, she would at least try to make the last ones more than bittersweet.

“Her Ladyship has gone out.”

“So I have ascertained.” Bone tired from hours in the saddle, Connor could not keep the irritation from his voice. “Any idea where?”

“To the upper pastures, I believe.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Callaway.” Adding a silent grimace, he turned to go. It appeared Alexa was not going to make the course he had decided on any easier. “I suggest you hold supper. Lady Alexa and I have a pressing matter to attend to in Hillington. I cannot say how long it will take.”

“Is something wrong, sir?” The housekeeper’s face betrayed a spasm of concern.

“No.” His fingers tightened on the sheet of paper in his pocket. The edges felt sharp as a knife. “It is simply a formality, but it cannot be put off any longer. We shall return as quickly as possible.”

Starting up the steep path, Connor found it difficult to maintain his footing on the loose stone.
And the way was likely to get rougher.
He knew all too well Alexa’s sentiments on submitting to a bit or rein.
Damn.
How was she going to react to the prospect of a legshackle?

Not well, he imagined. Not well at all.

He steeled his jaw. It wasn’t that he wished to force her hand. But she had chosen to play a high-stakes game. Debts of honor must be paid…

“As you can see, your companion seems to have suffered no lasting damage from his brush with disaster.” Looking up at his approach, Alexa ventured a tentative smile. The tiny kid nipped at her fingers, eager to squirm free. After a last little hug, she let it go.

Connor did not dare soften the grimness of his visage, fearing his will might bend along with his lips. She looked so carefree, with her hair dancing in the breeze and the sunlight dappling her cheeks. Was he about to cast a shadow over the rest of her life?

Seeing his expression, Alexa stood up, a look of hurt chasing the laughter from her eyes. “Oh, don’t be…angry.”

He could see she was unsure, yet undaunted, her eyes alight with a fire that warmed him to his very core. Perhaps he was being supremely selfish, but the thought that her future was about to be bound irrevocably to his sent a surge of satisfaction through him.

Would that she would forgive him.

“I am not angry,” he replied. “Far from it.”

“Then why are you scowling like the very devil?”

“Because…” In searching for words, Connor touched at the paper in his pocket. Deciding that the neatly lettered script spoke far more eloquently than he ever could, he unfolded it and held it out.

She hesitated before leaning in to read the lines.

“No.” Disbelief flooded across her face. “I…you…we don’t wish to be married.”

“Desire has naught to do with duty.”

He saw her flinch. “But nothing has changed between us! N-not really. If anyone took advantage of the situation, it was I. You need not worry that I expect any—”

“A great deal has changed between us, Alexa.” Indeed, in looking closely, he found that she herself had altered, in a way that defied explanation. She looked the same, and yet so very different.
Mysterious. Sensuous. Feminine.

“But—”

“No!” His shout echoed off the rocks and drowned the distant roar of the surf. “Be assured, I will not budge on this.”

Clutching at her cloak, Alexa fell back a step.

“I stopped in Hillington on my way back from purchasing the special license and spoke with the vicar. It has cost me a baptismal fount, but he has promised his complete cooperation—and discretion. He will marry us this afternoon, and see to it that no awkward questions arise as to the timing of the ceremony.”

“I have no say in this?”

“If this were a proposal, you would have a choice, but it is not.” Connor saw her lashes were wet with tears, but he kept his voice deliberately hard. “It is a pronouncement. One we both are bound by.”

“And if I refuse?”

A sudden gust set the capes of his coat to flapping, the snap of wool a dull thunder between them. “You demanded that Haddan honor his pledge, no matter that he quickly regretted risking its loss. Do you now refuse to play by the rules of the game?”

Alexa looked away to the gamboling goats. “It is not as if you play by the rules,” she whispered. “A whole host of them lie broken beneath your boots. Why is this any different?”

“Because despite all my faults, I have always recognized there are certain ones that cannot be tread on. It is a matter of personal honor.”

“But no one knows!”

“
I
know,” he replied softly. “As it is, the world sees me as bereft of all decency. Would you have me sunk below reproach in my own eyes?”

Despite the whip of the wind, the color leached from her cheeks. She bowed her head to the force of it. “Might I be permitted to wash the dust from my face before we set out?”

Wincing inwardly at the note of flat surrender, the earl managed a dispassionate nod. “I have sent word asking Givens for the use of his gig. It will take at least another quarter hour for it to be brought around.” He cleared his throat. “We must also take a moment to pen a note to Sebastian.”

Eyes still averted, Alexa turned for the manor house. “By all means, let us inform him of the joyous news.”

What goes around, comes around.

The next day, as the wheels of the hired coach spun inexorably toward Town, Alexa stared down at the simple gold band circling her finger. No doubt there were a number of other equally banal platitudes to describe the folly of allowing passion to overcome prudence.

Passion.

Her hand clenched and a burnished glint of light seemed to wink back at her, silently mocking her current predicament. To think that just a few short weeks ago, she had primly rung a peal over her cousin’s head for acting without heed of the consequences.

Repressing a sigh, she slanted a look at the facing seat. Connor, too, seemed to be twisting at his ring. Though his shadowed profile betrayed not a whit of emotion, she had a sinking suspicion that he found the pinch of metal against his skin extremely chafing. It was not that he had expressed any tangible complaint. If anything, he had been scrupulously polite since the ceremony binding them as lawful man and wife.

But distant.
Oh-so distant. He had spent the previous evening—their wedding night—in his own chamber. And even now, he had chosen to settle himself in the far corner, as far away from her physically as the cramped confines of the coach permitted.

As for his thoughts, she did not dare speculate on where they might be straying.

Alexa’s gaze fell back to where her hands lay fisted in the folds of her traveling cloak. As it was, her own head was still spinning. Things had happened with such dizzying speed. In the last forty-eight hours she had not only lost her virginity and gained a husband, but she had also found herself packing her meager possessions for yet another breakneck journey—this one back to London.

A special license had not been the only piece of paper to effect a sudden change at Linsley Close. She and the earl had arrived back from their brief marriage ceremony to find a letter from Mr. Daggett waiting. Its contents did little to lift the cloud from Connor’s brow. Paper in hand, he had retreated to the library, and at supper, his terse announcement confirmed what she had already suspected. A new clue had come to light. And no longer content to sit back and leave the job to others, the Wolfhound had determined to set off to Town at first light.

The coach hit a rut, jarring the notebook from her lap.

As Connor leaned down to retrieve it, his eyes fell upon a sketch. “What is this?”

“I—I was just toying with the idea of a few improvements,” mumbled Alexa, trying to pluck it from his fingers. To keep occupied, she had been drawing up some plan for how the estate stables might be expanded.

He leaned back out of reach. “I take it the figures noted here detail the cost of materials and labor?” After studying the page more closely, he added, “They seem to be quite low.”

“Mr. Givens knows several excellent stonemasons who would work at a very reasonable wage,” she replied. “And there is a local quarry, so the expense of transporting stone could kept to a minimum.”