Too Wicked to Wed (21 page)

Alexa muttered something that caused his mouth to twitch. “I’m fluent in Gaelic, Lady K. And what you just said would put a Barbary pirate to blush.” Seeing his gentle teasing only darkened her clouded expression, he pursed his lips. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing…Everything,” she blurted out. “As if that makes any sense at all.”

“Of course it does. Life rarely rolls along smoothly, my dear,” he replied as the carriage started up again. “Or in a straight line. Rather it is a series of twists and turns, ups and downs. You must expect a few jolts and jostles along the way.”

Alexa sighed. “I seem to do nothing but bounce along on my…backside.”

“Trust me, we all suffer our share of bumps and bruises.”

“I—I suppose you are right. Though men do not seem to have such a rough time of it.” She twisted at a corner of her cloak. “I wish I might learn how not always to wear my heart on my sleeve.”

“Do you wish to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “Not really.” But after an interval of watching the flicker of street lamps dodge in and out of the mists, Alexa cleared her throat. “However, if you wouldn’t mind, there is a far more pressing matter that I would like to discuss with you.”

“Yes?” he encouraged.

“I have been thinking about the attacks on Connor. I want to help.”

“I am not sure the Wolfhound would approve,” replied Cameron.

“Precious little about his current situation meets with his approval.” She meant to match the note of irony in his voice, but managed only to sound like a shrew.

One of Cameron’s well-groomed brows arched, but he remained tactfully silent.

Dropping all pretense, Alexa sank back in her seat. “I imagine you have already guessed that ours was not a match of choice.”

Still he said nothing.

Swallowing her embarrassment, she went on. “Connor felt compelled to marry me out of gentlemanly honor. I’m afraid he is already regretting his decision.”

“My dear girl,” he murmured. “That was
not
a look of regret I just glimpsed on the Wolfhound’s face.”

Her cheeks flushed. “No, it was remorse. And perhaps a touch of resentment. He was merely apologizing for all that has gone wrong between us.”

The other brow gave a distinct waggle.

“The point is, I—I should like very much to prove to him that ours can be a partnership in more than mere name. If I were able to help him catch his enemy, I might be in a position to win his regard.”

Cameron took out his snuffbox and inhaled a pinch of tobacco. “What you are suggesting is terribly risky, Lady K.”

“So is doing nothing,” she countered. “I’m willing to take the gamble.”

The lid snapped shut. “What did you have in mind?”

“While the earl is out hunting down clues in Southwark, I should like to take a closer look at the gentlemen of the
ton
who have been regular patrons of The Wolf’s Lair. It seems a logical place to start…”

The Wolf’s Lair seemed to be doing quite well without him.

Connor shrugged out of his overcoat and handed it to O’Toole. The wainscoting in the hallway had been buffed to the warm glow of Spanish sherry, he noted, and a tiny tear in the wallpaper had been repaired. “Things appear to be in order,” he said, glancing down at the freshly swept Turkey runner as he peeled off his gloves.

“Aye, milord. Allow me to welcome you back from the dead. Your presence, though sorely—” The Irishman was rarely at a loss for words, but seeing the flash of gold as the earl opened the door to the back office rendered him momentarily speechless. “By the bones of Saint Patrick,” he murmured, quickly recovering his voice. “Perhaps we ought to be holding a wake after all.”

“Who died?” asked a female voice.

As Connor turned, it took him an instant to recognize Sara Hawkins. Her gray merino gown and primly coiled hair made her look more like a governess than a lightskirt.

“The Wolfhound,” replied O’Toole with an exaggerated sigh. “It appears His Lordship has decided to shed his old skin and become a respectable married gentleman.”

“Out,” growled the earl. “I still have some teeth left, so if I were you I would bite my tongue.”

“Why, congratulations, sir.” A tiny twinkle winked in Sara’s eyes. “Anyone we know?”

O’Toole covered his laugh with a cough.

“As a matter of fact, she
has
visited here on several occasions.” Gratified to see that his announcement had wiped some of the mirth from their faces, he sat down at his desk. “Now if you don’t mind, let’s get down to business. I only have a short time before I must go out again, and I would like to have a look at the finances.”

Sara unlocked one of the cabinets and brought over the ledgers. “I took it upon myself te keep the books, milord. As well as make a few small changes to, er, make up fer yer absence at the card tables.” She smoothed at her skirts. “I hope you won’t be upset.”

Connor skimmed over the neatly aligned columns of numbers. Everything seemed to add correctly. Indeed…

He looked up. “I can well understand how revenue went down at the card tables, but how the devil did you manage to turn a profit at dice? Not to speak of the profit we are showing in the sale of spirits.”

“Well, I got te thinking about how we might shake things up a bit,” answered Sara. “And I came up with the idea of having a few of the girls toss the ivories instead o’ their skirts. It proved very popular with the gents. Why, there was nights we had to turn them away at the door. And seeing as those who played weren’t always paying close attention to the odds, we were able to roll up quite a handsome profit.”

“Very clever.” The earl steepled his fingers. “Did you replace O’Toole behind the bar as well?”

“Now that’s an idea.” Sara tapped thoughtfully at her chin. “It might be worth a try.”

“He might have a few words to say about that.”

“Paddy do tend te bend yer ear. But the gents seem te like being served up a stream of fancy talk along with a tot of brandy.” She grinned. “What we did was come up with a different sort of strategy fer drinks. One night a week, we offer a special fer anyone who shows up before ten o’clock—two fer the price of one. Everyone ends up happy, if ye get me drift. It’s a good deal fer them—and fer us. Over the course of the evening, they tend to imbibe a lot more than usual, and we end up making money hand over fist.”

A soft clapping from Connor punctuated the end of her explanation. “I applaud your ingenuity. You show a real aptitude for running a business.”

Her face turned pink. “It ain’t often a girl like me can be put te blush, sir, but…thank you. I could never have done it without you giving me a leg up—so to speak. I owe ye—”

The earl snapped the covers of the ledger shut. “You have more than repaid me. Now, might I convince you to manage things here for a while longer?”

“Of course, sir. But ye have yet to check over the book of expenses. I studied the outline ye left in yer desk, and tried to follow it to the letter, but you may want to order some changes.”

“I am sure it is quite satisfactory.”

“Still, you ought to have a look yerself, sir.” Sara shifted a bit uncomfortably in her seat. “There is one thing in particular I wish te point out. I have been drawing a salary. Seeing as I’ve been spending a lot less time upstairs, my earnings have taken a real tumble.”

“Double it,” said the earl brusquely. “Is there anything else about the business that we need to discuss?”

“No, sir.” Sara gathered her skirts and stood up. But she reached the door, she hesitated. “Is she…nice?”

Perplexed, Connor frowned. “What?”

“I know that titled toffs and ladies get legshackled fer different reasons than ordinary folk, so I was just wondering whether yer wife is nice.”

“Yes,” he replied softly. “She is.”

Sara smiled. “I am very glad te hear it, sir.”

As the door fell closed, Connor picked up the Andalusian dagger on his desk blotter. A farewell gift from a partisan leader in Spain, it was a lethally lovely memento, wrought of solid silver and forged steel. He spun it slowly in his fingers, then ran a thumb along its blade.

The razored metal was a sharp reminder that he was walking a dangerous edge these days. One that required a delicate balance. Over the years, he had learned to fend for himself. Now, suddenly, he seemed surrounded by people who were willing to circle around and protect his flanks.
Suzy, Drew, Gryff, Cam, Sara.
A part of him resented the burden of friendship. It made him feel awkward, unsure.

And Alexa?

His feelings were even more tumultuous concerning his wife. He was trying to keep his distance—both physically and emotionally—for fear he would only end up hurting her. But it was becoming impossible to deny the damnable truth any longer. Much as he had fought it tooth and nail, he had fallen in love with her stalwart courage, her keen intelligence, her indomitable spirit. And her damnably alluring beauty. He had felt a stab of fierce jealousy at seeing her smiling in another man’s arms. Then in the carriage, when she had not shied away from his own touch…

His grip spasmed, the blade cutting a tiny nick in his flesh.

Connor stared down at the drop of crimson. The desire simmering in his veins was threatening to boil over, but he had better find out who was out for his blood before the danger consumed them both.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Spotted Dick has arrived.” O’Toole stuck his head into the room. “Shall I show his ugly phiz in?”

With a wave of the dagger, Connor motioned both men to enter. In the hallway, the hulking silhouette of McTavish hovered in the shadows.

“Ready te shove off, Wolf?” asked the smuggler. “Me an’ ’Arry got summink ineresting to show ye.”

The earl took up his overcoat. “Yes. Let us go take care of business.”

The big Scotsman cracked his knuckles. “Auch, need some muscle te go along, sir?”

“No.” The earl’s mouth sharpened to a grim smile. “I don’t expect to be needing muscle tonight.”

Chapter Twenty

I
believe my name is the next one written on your dance card.”

Alexa took a moment to consult the slip of pasteboard dangling from her wrist.
Another evening, and yet another ball.
“So it is, sir.”

The gentleman’s hand pressed against the small of her back and drew her close to his muscled thighs—a fraction closer than was deemed proper.

“People are watching,” she protested.

“Let them.” With a lithe grace, Connor spun her into the first steps of the waltz, setting her skirts to frothing around his feet. “A man is allowed to take liberties with his wife.”

“Ah, yes…” Her pulse quickened at his touch, though she took pains to hide it with a cool retort. “The rules permit gentlemen a good deal of leeway in whatever they choose to do.”

He frowned slightly at her tone, but moved through the turn without missing a beat.

Rather than let her eyes linger on the strands of silky hair kissing up against his collar, Alexa stiffened her spine and stared over his left shoulder.

The view gave her a good opportunity to observe the rest of the ballroom. Cameron had been reluctant to help her at first. But once she had made it clear that she meant to be part of the investigations, with or without his aid, he had handed over a short list of suspects. Alexa was looking for three gentlemen in particular, and had reason to believe that at least one of them was in attendance tonight.

Concentrating on her quarry kept her from thinking about…Connor.

He hadn’t come home until after dawn. However, when questioned on whether he had learned anything of note, the earl had been evasive. The brusque answers had stirred a niggling suspicion…

“Are you perchance angry at something?”

She could not help replying with an edge of sarcasm. “What makes you think I am angry?”

“Alexa,” he began, only to halt as the music came to a flourishing end. They stood facing each other in awkward silence.

“Lady Killingworth, I believe I have the honor of the next set.” A gentleman she did not recognize approached and inclined a polite bow.

Without further word, Connor relinquished her hand and walked away.

Alexa exchanged pleasantries with her new partner as they waited for the first chords of the country dance to begin. But out of the corner of her eye, she couldn’t help following the glimmer of Wolf-hued hair to the far end of the ballroom. She was about to look away when another figure caught her attention.

So, Lord Bevan
was
here. And he appeared to be heading for the terrace doors.

“Oh, how terribly awkward!” Tugging at her skirts, Alexa made a show of examining her hem. “There seems to be a tear in the ruffle, sir. I pray you will excuse me while I retire and have it repaired.”

The withdrawing room was located at the end of a long hallway. Halfway down it, she checked to make sure she was alone, then reversed directions and slipped into the deserted music room, where a set of glass doors opened directly out to the gardens.

Stepping lightly along the graveled path, Alexa saw her quarry pass between a set of marble fauns, then disappear behind a privet hedge. She moved as quickly as she dared, but the way led into a maze of shadowed twists, lit only by the stars and an occasional wink of the crescent moon. After several harried turns brought her around in a circle, she conceded that it was foolhardy to continue her search. All she was likely to do was stumble into trouble.

“Looking for someone, Lady Killingworth?”

Alexa nearly lost her footing on the loose stones. “I—I found it a bit stuffy inside.”

“You appear to be going to great lengths for a breath of fresh air.” Connor moved in to take her arm. “It is not the thing for a newly wed lady to go wandering off on her own.”

Something exploded inside her.

“And what of
you
!” She lifted her furious gaze to confront him. “
You
feel free to prowl the Town at will. Where did you go last night—to The Wolf’s Lair?”

He stood very still, moonlight edging the hard line of his jaw. “Yes,” he answered softly.

Alexa wrenched away. The shape of his jaw, the angle of his cheekbone, the curve of his mouth—every chiseled nuance of his face had become intimately familiar to her eye. She couldn’t bear the idea that another woman had been close enough to see the silvery intensity of his gaze.

“To look at the ledgers,” he added. His grip captured her wrist as she spun for the path. “By God, are you jealous?”

The smile playing at his mouth set her blood to a boil. “Don’t you
dare
laugh at me, Connor Linsley!” Curling her free hand into a fist, she smacked his chest. “Your marital rights, legion though they be, do not extend to playing me for a fool.”

“My marital rights,” he repeated, catching her next blow with maddening ease. With both arms now pinned to her sides, Alexa found herself at the mercy of his superior strength. “You are right to remind me—I have been neglecting them of late, haven’t I?”

She gasped in outrage as he wedged his thigh between her legs and forced her back against a low ivied wall. “Oh, you
odious
beast!”

“Odious, am I? I seem to recall you crying out quite a number of different endearments when you were naked beneath me, your body arched in ecstasy.” His breath was hot on her cheek. “Tell me you aren’t panting for another taste of my lovemaking.”

“Your arrogance has swelled your head,” snapped Alexa.

He gave a low laugh. “Oh, it is a distinctly different part of my anatomy that is growing enlarged, sweeting.” Trapping her between the spread of his booted feet, Connor pressed closer. Through the thin layers of silk and stretched wool, the ridge of his arousal was impossible to ignore.

Anger sparked a struggle to break his hold. “Damn you!” And yet, as she squirmed against him, she could not deny that his body was sending all sorts of strange shivers through her that had nothing to do with anger.

“Say it, Alexa!” he challenged. The curl of his mouth hovered a hair’s breath above hers. “You have only to say you don’t want me and I shall release you.”

She twisted away. “I…I…”

But the words that might free her remained caught in her throat.

“Don’t fight me, Alexa,” he rasped, the teasing turning taut with need. “It’s been damnably hard enough battling myself.”

She went very still, and when his tongue slowly slid over the swell of her lower lip, she sighed in surrender.

“Ah yes, that’s better, sweeting.”

Drawing a nip of flesh between his teeth, Connor groaned against her mouth before filling her with another long, lush kiss. He had released her hands, and they had now crept up to caress his shoulders. She shuddered, and softened as his tongue dipped in and out of her, plunging deeper with each sensual stroke.

It was only when he hiked her skirts up and slipped his hand inside her thighs that she made a murmur of protest. “Connor, surely we cannot…someone might see us.”

The earl glanced around at the thick screen of foliage Not even the torches on the terrace were visible. “We are well hidden in this corner of the garden,” he assured her. “Spread your legs for me, Alexa.”

The soles of her slippers slid out slowly over the grass.

“Wider,” he whispered.

Her breath quickened, then she did as he asked.

Parting the delicate frothing of lace and lawn cotton, Connor slowly traced a path through her gossamer curls. A fierce pleasure surged through him on finding she was already slick with a honeyed wetness.

“Lean back, my darling” he urged. “Now look at me.” He found he loved watching the play of emotions on her face.

Alexa’s eyes grew wide as he slipped a finger inside her passage, their color darkening to a swirl of dusky aquamarine. Moonlight bathed her face in a silvery glow. She shifted, and as her head tilted slightly, it seemed to catch in her eyes, reflecting the sparkle of stars in the sky above.

He withdrew, letting his touch circle slowly over the hooded nub at her entrance.

“Connor…please!”

Hearing his name—and her need—sent a lick of heat spiraling through him.

“Yes?” he coaxed, wanting for her to say it again and again.

“Connor,” she repeated. “Oh, Connor. Don’t stop.”

His fingertips glided back through the petals of flesh, but at the last moment he held back. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Then come to me,” he whispered.

After a slight hesitation, Alexa rocked her hips forward, driving him deep inside her. She sucked in her breath, then eased back.

“That’s it, set your own rhythm, sweeting.”

Her skirts were now up around her waist and spilling over the smooth stone. A breeze rustled the roses, stirring a floral sweetness. Mixing with the musk of her feminine need, it perfumed the air with an overpowering lushness.

Alexa seemed intuitively to understand what he was asking. Tentatively at first, and then with a mounting eagerness, she arched in and out of his grasp. It was her mouth that sought his, hot and demanding.

With the next press of her warmth, Connor inserted a second finger, feeling the tight flesh clench around him. He groaned against her lips, matching the glide of his tongue to the play of his hands.

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that making love to a woman who was his wife could be so exquisitely erotic. He had always assumed the marriage bed would be a dead bore. But a great number of his preconceptions had been stripped away of late, along with his jaded cynicism. It left him feeling rather naked. And rather exhilarated. It was almost as if he were a newborn babe…

Perhaps O’Toole had been right after all and the Wolfhound of old was dead, thought the earl. A primal, animal lust surged through his loins, and yet it was tempered by something deeper, something more rooted in his soul.

The earl could feel the tension in her straining to find release. He, too, was the verge of exploding. Suddenly shifting his palms to the curves of her buttocks, he perched her on the lip of the narrow ledge. “Undo my trousers.”

Alexa found the fastenings and worked them free, letting the fabric pool down around his ankles.

“My drawers as well.”

She might be new at the game of seduction, but she proved a quick study in grasping the essentials of play. Trailing lightly over the linen, her thumb traced a slow line along the length of his shaft before loosening the knot. They, too, fell away, allowing his shaft to spring loose.

“Take me, Alexa. And quickly.”

“Like this?” Her fingers closed around him, soft as silk.

“Sweet Jesus,” he groaned as she guided him through the folds of flesh. “Yes.” His self control in shreds, he could wait no longer and thrust himself into her warmth. With Alexa clinging to him, all teasing gave way to a burning urgency. His surges came hard and fast.

She cried out, and an instant later his own voice was echoing her release.

Thoroughly spent, they lay back against the stone, still as statues, save for the rise and fall of their breathing and the ruffling of her skirts in the breeze.

It was Alexa who finally lifted her head. “I—I suppose we ought to be going back in, before our absence attracts attention.”

One look at her swollen lips, her and her tresses tangled glorious disarray around her bare shoulders brought a smile to Connor’s lips. “At the moment, it is our appearance rather than our absence, that would have heads turning. We had better take our leave through the garden gate. A bit of dalliance is one thing, but I fear we are in a most shocking state of deshabille.”

“I—I could fix my hairpins.” Alexa brushed a twist of curls from her cheek. “And put my clothing to rights.”

“But you could do naught about ravaged swell of your lips and the heated flush suffusing your flesh. You are pink with pleasure, sweeting. And the scent of womanly passion exudes from every pore.” His mouth sought the hollow at her throat. “Your emotions, when aroused, are quite a sight to behold. Trust me, no amount of steel or silk can hide that, Alexa.”

Though loath to break the connection between them, the earl eased back from her warmth. As he fumbled for his own garments, he was surprised at how chilly the night air felt on his flesh.

She shook loose her skirts from the stone, then ventured a shy look. “I know I have much to learn, Connor, but if given a chance, I shall endeavor to meet with your satisfaction.”

“Learn?” Distracted by the tumble of ruffles across her bare calves, Connor had trouble catching the drift of her meaning. “About what?”

“About pleasuring a man.” The fringe of her lashes lowered to hide her eyes. “I have been doing some research—”

“Bloody hell.” The buttons on his trousers were suddenly in danger of cracking into a fistful of fragments. “Is that why you were out here?” The cold now settled in the pit of his stomach though his voice took on a smoldering intensity. “Do not think for an instant that I will allow you to experiment with another man—”

“I was referring to a
book
.”

“You mean to say you have been reading up on the subject?” A twist of wry amusement chased the scowl from his lips. Lud, his new wife was a source of constant wonder. He imagined she would never cease to surprise him. The realization sent a fresh jolt of pleasure through him.

“Actually, there are a great many more pictures than words. I came across a book in Sebastian’s study. It is from India…”

“I think I know the one.”

“However, a book, no matter how descriptive, is no substitute for…hands-on experience.”

“Ah.” He lifted her from the wall. “So if I understand you correctly, you are proposing some on-the-job training, so to speak?”

She muffled a laugh against his shoulder. “My estate foreman says I have an uncommon knack for learning new skills quickly.”

“If he dares say such a thing to me, he will be retrieving his teeth from deep in his gullet,” growled Connor as he set her down.

“Really, sir…”

“But as usual, you have managed an incisive analysis of the problem and come up with a practical suggestion. I think it can be arranged.” He stooped to retrieve a hairpin. “Indeed, I would say we are already a step ahead of the game. Consider this evening your first lesson.” Gathering a knot of wheaten curls, he secured it behind her ear. “You passed with flying colors.”