Just Wicked Enough (15 page)

S
tretching beneath the covers, Kate couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so well-rested, so glorious upon awakening. Her body was fairly thrumming. She released a tiny satisfied squeal. Dear Lord, but she felt marvelous.

She stretched farther, the soreness between her legs giving her pause. Her eyes flew open as memories bombarded her.

“Oh, you’re awake at last.”

Clutching the covers against her nakedness—she’d been too lethargic, too sated last night to find the strength to recover her nightgown and slip it back on—she jerked her head to the side, to the chair where Chloe was slowly rising.

“His lordship sent me to watch over you,” her maid said. “He was a bit concerned that you were still abed. ’Tis long past noon.”

The draperies were pulled back, sunlight streaming into the room so she could see Chloe’s blush.

“You don’t usually sleep so late,” Chloe said. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“I feel fine,” Kate snapped. More than fine, truth be told.

Chloe ducked her head. “I thought a dress with a high collar would do well for today.”

Kate was accustomed to going nude before her servant. She threw the covers back and her gaze fell on the inside of her thigh and the bruise…

She furrowed her brow. No, it wasn’t a bruise exactly. She remembered the lingering heat of Falconridge’s mouth. Lifting her gaze to her breast, she discovered another mark he’d left behind. Scrambling out of bed, she hurried across the room to the vanity, peered in the mirror, and saw the faintest of love bites at her throat, near her collarbone.

Her husband needed to curb his enthusiasm. She started to turn, caught sight of her smile in the mirror. Had she ever worn such a self-satisfied expression?

Even when she sought to scold him for this latest offense, she didn’t know if she could do it with any true anger reflected in her voice.

Did she really want him to dim his attentions when he’d succeeded in carrying her to heights she’d never before attained?

Was it possible Jenny had the right of it? That passion
was
more desirable than love?

“Where is the marquess now?” Kate asked.

“I don’t know, my lady. He had the carriage brought around a few hours ago.”

She wondered if he was as anxious to avoid her as she was to avoid him. What in the world did a lady say to a gentleman who’d hardly behaved as a gentleman? How could she possibly look him in the eye, knowing all the things he’d done to her, with her? She’d never had this problem with Wesley, but then his lovemaking had been much more tamed, more circumspect…besides, she’d loved him.

She shook her head. Not
had
loved. Still loved. It was much easier to meet the gaze of a man you loved. Because love encompassed trust. Facing Falconridge was going to be exceedingly uncomfortable. She wanted to avoid it as long as possible. Short of taking a journey back to New York, her options were limited. She needed a rousing round of shopping. Spending money always calmed her, made her better able to face challenges.

Kate turned to Chloe. “Yes, I think a dress with a high collar would do nicely for today. And have a carriage brought round for me.”

She was in desperate need of a diversion.

Kate’s first stop was the home her parents were leasing. She swept through the front door, a woman with a purpose. Jeremy, walking through the foyer, stopped in his tracks.

“I expected you to come by sooner than this,” he drawled.

“Where’s Jenny?”

“Still abed. She didn’t invite him, Kate.”

She knew who the
him
was. “Then it was rather rude of him to come, wasn’t it?”

“It was also rude of him to marry you without our parents’ consent.”

Jeremy had been instrumental in convincing her not to fight her father on the annulment. He had the argumentative skills to convince a saint to sin. No doubt a talent he’d inherited from their mother.

“Did you ever like him?”

“I always liked him. I just didn’t approve of his handling of you.”

“Handling? You make it sound like I’m a damned horse.”

Jeremy sighed. “You know what I mean. He fairly kidnapped you—”

“I went willingly.”

Her brother shook his head. “I won’t rehash it, except to say Falconridge didn’t seem too pleased with the attention Wiggins was giving you.”

“You are a master of understatement.”

Jeremy took a step toward her, his brow furrowed. “He didn’t take his anger out on you, did he?”

In a way he had, but it had hardly been in a manner worthy of complaining about, and she certainly wasn’t going to discuss the particulars with Jeremy. “Suffice it to say my husband left no doubt regarding his displeasure over my association with Wesley. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to visit with Jenny.”

“For what it’s worth, I believe Falconridge is the better man.”

She released a loud scoff. “And upon what do you base that assessment?”

“He didn’t do his wooing in secret as though he were ashamed of his behavior.”

“He didn’t woo me at all, you dolt!”

With that, she spun on her heel and darted up the stairs. She didn’t want to think of all the ways Wesley had wooed her: with chocolates, and poetry, and stolen kisses. She’d never had so much attention. It had been incredibly thrilling.

She burst through Jenny’s door, marched across the room, and yanked back the draperies. Jenny screeched as the sunshine poured in unmercifully. They so seldom had bright days like this that Kate took delight in tormenting Jenny so.

Jenny squinted up at her. “Kate?” She sat up. “What are you doing here?”

When Kate only glared at her, Jenny groaned. “Oh, Wesley.”

“Jeremy says you didn’t know he was in town.”

“I didn’t. And I certainly didn’t invite him. I tried to warn you as soon as I saw him arrive, but I couldn’t find you, and then it was too late and I got distracted—” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Kate. Was it awful seeing him again?”

Kate sat on the edge of the bed. “Not as awful as I thought it would be. It helped that his wife wasn’t at his side.”

“I suspect she’ll be at Stonehaven’s ball. Will you attend that one?”

Kate studied her gloves. She needed new ones. “I don’t know.” Did she really want to see Wesley with Melanie?

“He’s not nearly as handsome as your marquess.”

Kate looked up. “I’ve told you before, I don’t judge a man on his physical attributes. They decline with time. I judge a man based on the way he makes me feel.”

Jenny gave her a wicked grin. “And how does your marquess make you feel?”

Kate shot off the bed and walked to the window. She heard the bed creak, heard the light touch of Jenny’s feet on the floor.

“Kate? Darling? Whatever’s wrong?” Jenny said quietly from behind her.

Kate swiped at the blasted tear. Where had that come from? “He exercised his husbandly rights last night.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Kate shook her head quickly, before turning to meet her sister’s worried gaze. “I thought I knew…dear God, Jenny, I’ve been married. Wesley and I were intimate, but what I experienced last night…it was rather terrifying, but not in a horrible sort of way.”

Jenny’s wicked smile returned. She dropped into a nearby chair, brought her feet up to the cushion, and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Tell me everything.”

“I can’t. It was too personal.”

“Was he passionate?”

Kate nodded. “Very.”

“Was it wonderful?”

Kate bit her bottom lip, squeezed her eyes shut, and nodded.

Jenny released a tiny squeal. “Oh, you lucky girl.”

Kate opened her eyes, unable to stop herself from grinning. “He was so enthusiastic he left little marks, little love bruises.”

“Did you leave marks on him?”

“I don’t think so. I didn’t run my mouth all over his body.”

Jenny’s eyes widened, and Kate realized she’d said much more than she’d planned to. She rolled her eyes. “He’s very amorous, very active during lovemaking. He’s nothing at all like Wesley.”

“You need to forget about Wesley.”

“How can you say that? He was my first love.”

“But he need not be your last.”

“Falconridge has fairly stated that love will never be between us.”

“Men often state things that aren’t true. I pay them no heed.”

“Now, you’re an expert on men?”

“Hardly. Look at the mess I made with Ravensley.”

“Did you love him?”

“Of course not, but he could stir my passions with little more than a look. I can hardly forgive him for ruining his sister’s reputation and using me to do it.”

“Louisa seems rather happy with Hawkhurst.”

Jenny smiled softly. “I think she is. Still, Ravensley’s handling of the situation was deplorable. In betraying them, he betrayed me.”

“He was desperate. Mother wouldn’t consent to you marrying an earl.”

“Are you justifying his actions?”

“No. I just understand desperation.”

“He was at the ball last night.”

Kate stared at her sister as understanding dawned. “The man wearing the mask.”

Jenny nodded.

“Was he the distraction?” Kate asked.

Jenny had the look of a child who’d been caught pilfering cookies. “Don’t look so shocked. We only spoke for a couple of moments.”

“He is to you what Wesley was to me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You loved Wesley. Ravensley is nothing more than a bit of passion.”

Kate wished she could be as sure.

“You’re not going to do anything silly where Wesley’s concerned, are you?” Jenny asked, as though searching for a way to turn the conversation from her own questionable behavior.

“Of course not.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Actually, I’m going shopping. Care to join me?”

“I’d love to, but I’m to accompany Pemburton to the park.”

“Are you going to marry him?”

“Probably.”

“It seems to me a woman should sound a bit more excited about the prospect of marriage.”

“I’m excited about the prospect of having little love bruises.”

“You’re so naughty.”

“Not as naughty as you.”

Which brought Kate back to wondering how in the world she’d face Falconridge again.

Michael heard the bell above the bookshop door jangle, its vibrations putting his nerves on edge once again. He’d heard it numerous times since he’d arrived. A dozen or so people had come and gone while he’d lingered, looking through various books.

He didn’t know why he thought he could select one his wife would take pleasure in reading, could determine which one she had yet to read.

Besides, she had sufficient money at her disposal and could no doubt purchase the entire bookshop if she wanted. While he had only a little remaining from the sale of his father’s ring. He needed to use it judiciously.

What in damnation was he doing here? What did he think he was going to accomplish, except to prove that he knew little about her taste in reading, which she would no doubt consider a fault worse than not knowing her favorite color?

He simply wanted to do something that would make it a bit easier to face her later this evening, after all that had transpired between them last night. He fully intended to have her again. He would have taken her that morning, had gone into her bedchamber with the intention of waking her with a rousing session, but she’d looked so innocent, pure, so soundly asleep.

He abhorred the fact another man had gazed on her, knew how enticingly beautiful she looked when she was all rumpled from sleep. He’d been unable to bring himself to awaken her. She’d been dead to the world. He’d brushed strands of her hair back from her face and the only part of her that had moved was her nose. A tiny little twitch, endearing in its simplicity.

So he wanted to give her something, but he didn’t understand this desire to bestow a gift on her. Oh, he’d given his mistress lots of trinkets in order to keep her happy so she’d keep him happy. With Kate, he simply wanted to give her a gift. To see a softness in her eyes. To make her happy for her own sake. He had no ulterior motive, nothing he sought for himself. It was a rather strange position to be in, desperately wishing he knew precisely which book to purchase. He’d do better to simply purchase her chocolates. He couldn’t go wrong there.

He took another book from the shelf and began browsing it. Apparently this story, too, involved a female in peril and a gentleman courageous enough to come to her rescue. Were these truly the type of stories women preferred? He was several pages in when he heard a familiar voice, “Falconridge?”

Slamming the book closed, he spun around to face his wife. He’d been Falconridge for so long that he was accustomed to the address, but considering what they’d shared last night, it hardly seemed intimate, personal. He nodded brusquely. “Madam.”

“Do you have a penchant for romantic novels?” she asked, her furrowed brow seeming to make a mockery of her twitching mouth, as though she couldn’t decide whether to be concerned or amused.

He cleared his throat. “The proprietor indicated novels in this area of the shop are favored by women.”

“I see.” She took a step nearer, clearly deciding to be amused. “Why would you prefer to read a novel favored by women?”

“Not me, madam.” He shoved the book back into its place on the shelf and busied himself scanning other titles. “I was searching, trying to determine…damnation,” he muttered beneath his breath. It had been a silly plan.

She reached past him, bringing her sweet scent nearer, and took the book he’d just returned to its proper place. “Does it appear to be any good?” she asked.

“It’s about a governess and a widower. Not a very pleasant fellow actually.”

“Handsome, though, I suspect. The hero is always handsome.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I recognized your carriage and driver parked on the street and since I was in need of a book, I thought”—she laughed lightly. “I don’t know what I thought. Do you come here often?”