Something Reckless (4 page)

Jeremy leaned back against the plush leather seat of his carriage as it pulled to a smooth stop in the darkened shadows behind Penelope’s London estate. He peeled back the curtain and watched as she slipped from the servant entrance and hurried across the lawn to the vehicle. His footman bowed quickly, then opened the unmarked carriage door to allow her entry.

Jeremy leaned forward, offering her a hand in. Penelope looked up at him from below, her eyes wide as she stared at the offering. But finally, after a very long moment of hesitation, she took it. When he touched her soft fingers, sparks of awareness ricocheted through him, taking him off guard.

They seemed to take her off guard, as well, for she released his hand as if it burned her the instant she settled into the seat across from him. The door shut behind her, and the carriage jolted into motion.

He took in the sight of her. Though her gown was not as revealing as those she would see tonight, it was still quite lovely. A deep blue with a plunging neckline that showed him the tempting upper curve of her lovely breasts. He wondered if she was aware of just how provocative that fine, firm curve was. Did she show herself on purpose, proving her heated nature?

Or was she so innocent that she couldn’t fathom how utterly charming she was?

Another mystery to ferret out.

“Good evening,” Jeremy drawled. “I actually thought you might not come after all, so I’m pleased to see you.”

She was quiet for a moment, but then she shrugged. “I considered it. But I assumed you would come to my window and throw pebbles until you made the entire neighborhood aware of your presence, so I thought coming with you was the lesser evil.”

“You would rather do something naughty than have people believe you were doing something naughty?” he asked, watching her face in the shadowy light.

Her gaze jerked to his. “I would rather not have to make the choice. But if I must, then my reputation is all I have. Protecting it means something to me, yes.”

Jeremy nodded. It was a good piece of information, for it meant that he could likely blackmail Penelope into silence in order to protect the reputation she held so dear. And that was definitely preferable to him rather than revealing her as a hypocrite and ruining her irrevocably.

Why, he didn’t want to analyze too closely.

“I suppose that seems silly to a man like you,” she murmured, staring out the window again.

“Protecting your reputation?” he asked. When she nodded, he laughed. “No, it makes perfect sense. After all, I have a reputation of my own to uphold.”

“Except you claim you want to change that reputation. Perhaps with my help.”

Jeremy looked at her sharply again. She wasn’t looking at him, but he could feel her scrutiny nonetheless. He had to give her credit. No fool was Penelope Norman. Despite his charm, she refused to take his change of heart at his word.

Which meant he would be forced to prove himself to her, even while he seduced her. A challenge, indeed. One he thrilled at.

“Why don’t you tell me where we are going?” she asked, not waiting for him to answer her comment. “And how do you intend to keep me anonymous?”

Jeremy sat up straight. Yes, it was time to get to the point of tonight. Without preamble, he moved across the carriage to sit beside her. Penelope caught her breath at the sudden action and stared up at him with wide eyes. Jeremy couldn’t help but catch his own breath. God, she smelled good. Like cinnamon, a spicy heady scent that tightened his gut and hardened his cock.

Hopefully she wouldn’t notice that.

“What are you doing?” she breathed, her voice broken by what he instantly sensed was desire.

She wanted him. Despite everything.

He smiled as he drew an intricate mask from the inside pocket of his jacket. He’d chosen blue, a turquoise color that matched her eyes perfectly. It was sewn with little jewels and tiny feathers that framed her bright eyes.

He wrapped the soft satin fabric around her face, positioning
it against her nose before he glided his fingers around the back of her head. Wicked, he leaned in as he tied it into place, moving far too close to her to be proper. He could actually feel the ragged swell of her breath and the tickle of her hair against his cheek.

Her fingers clenched against her legs and she muffled a little sound of…well, it was either distress or desire. Probably a combination of both.

Jeremy pulled away and smiled down at her. God, he just wanted to push her back against the cushions and slip his hands beneath her skirts. He would wager his best mount that she was already slick and ready for him, her thighs clenching and tingling.

And he could have. In her current state, it was likely he would be able to overcome her protests, awaken the core inside of her that wanted to be touched, licked, fucked. He had never doubted his own prowess before, there was no reason to start now.

But as much as he wanted to do that, as easily as he believed he could, his plan was far more intricate than a mere screw in a carriage that she could later dismiss. No, he needed to
change
Penelope. If he wanted to win, he had to make her question every belief she had. Force her to see her true, sensual nature, not just in one situation, but in every moment of her life.

That
was the only way to end her little crusade.

So instead of dragging her against his chest, he leaned away. “Tonight, we are going to a Cyprian masked ball,” he explained.

Penelope’s lips parted in surprise. With the rest of her face covered in blue satin and lace, her mouth stood out all the more. Damn, but they were tempting lips. Full and plump, a little wet from where she had licked them.

“No!” she cried, breaking the spell. “You must be jesting. I cannot go to such a place.”

Jeremy pursed his own lips as he moved back to his side of the carriage. Being so close to her was having an odd effect on his normally solid control.

“I told you I wished to show you what you were fighting against. Help you understand your enemy. This gathering, it is exactly what you claim to despise.”

“And that is why I cannot go!” she repeated, her tone that which he guessed she would use with a slow-witted servant or small child.

He arched a brow. “You want to see your enemy, don’t you?”

Penelope was silent for a long moment, tilting her head as she stared at him across the shadowy vehicle. Jeremy shifted a bit under her scrutiny. It was almost like she could truly see him. See more than he was on the outside, more than his public persona. See
him
.

“You
are my enemy, Jeremy,” she whispered.

He might have been disappointed, he might have felt that he had made no progress with her, except that she called him by his given name. And hearing it from her lips was utterly arousing. It also showed him that despite all her protests, she was beginning to trust him…if only just a little.

“I
was
your enemy,” he said softly. “But no more.”

The carriage stopped, but none of his servants came to open the door, just as he had ordered. He wanted Penelope to be the one who made the decision to go inside. She had to guide her own journey. If she could point to anyone else as the catalyst later, it would detract from her utter surrender to her own heart.

“Come inside with me,” he said, “and see what it is you are fighting against. No one will know who you are. They will assume you are just another woman I’ve claimed as my lover. You can watch the men of the
ton
in action and see what kinds of women they choose to philander with.”

Penelope swallowed hard enough that he could see her throat working. Such a delicate throat indeed, her pale skin nearly translucent it was so fair. She stared at the carriage door, then back toward him.

“Fine,” she finally said with a frown. “I will go inside. But I don’t want you to do anything that would make someone think we were lovers. No…touching me in a way that is familiar.”

Jeremy drew back. He could hardly contain his chuckle. He didn’t think he could remember the last time a woman had denied him. It spurned him on, drove him to make her change her mind all the more.

And it also piqued his curiosity. What had happened to Penelope Norman that put so much starch in her spirit? Who had made her fear sensuality and sin rather than embrace all its pleasures?

“I promise, I will do nothing more than take your arm,” he said softly.

At least for now.

She nodded, the motion jerky. “Then let us go inside. I want to see this infamous Cyprian ball.”

“Would you like a drink?”

Penelope jolted at the soft seduction of Jeremy’s voice. It raked across her raw senses like satin over her skin.

“W-Will I be safe here alone?” she asked, hating how her voice trembled.

Jeremy looked around. He had brought her into the Cyprian ball half an hour before. But when too many masked revelers identified him and wanted to know who his new companion was, he had escorted her to this small, private terrace that overlooked the ballroom below. Penelope was just as happy. Amongst the partygoers she felt surrounded, stifled. Exposed.

“You will be quite unharmed, I assure you. And I shall be back in a few scant moments.” He smiled down at her, and Penelope shivered.

She felt protected by her mask, but she also felt protected by Jeremy’s presence. Like he would keep anyone from harming her. Even though she knew the greatest harm could come from him. Despite all his declarations to the opposite, she still sensed a feral, animal quality that lurked beneath his proper attire.

“Very well.” She nodded. “My throat
is
parched.”

He nodded, then left her alone on the terrace. Penelope turned back to the scene below. The home they were in was large and very beautiful, although it didn’t belong to any gentleman she was aware of. She’d certainly never been here, in this room with tall pillars decorated by writhing, naked sprites and lewd mystical figures with swollen phalluses. Great God, the things some of the women in her acquaintance would say if they saw such erotic images.

But it wasn’t the sinful craftsmanship of the pillars that was the real shock to her. It was the behavior of the participants. Unlike at a ball that had been sanctioned and was attended by ladies of her own social sphere, there was an air of unabashed
sexuality that permeated the room. Men and women danced and laughed together, staring openly and analyzing the physical attributes of their partners.

Everyone wore masks, though it seemed many knew the identities of their partners without seeing their faces. Or at least, they acted familiar enough. Their hands roamed over each other shamelessly, boldly, as erotic music lilted around them.

The women…
Cyprians
, wore shocking gowns. More than a few had bodices that dipped down
below
their breasts, revealing the pale, bare globes of flesh. Others wore gowns with strategic slits up the sides so that they could flash their admirers shocking glimpses of thighs and even more.

None of the women seemed ashamed of what their clothing revealed. Or embarrassed by the blunt appraisal of the men in their company. In fact, they appeared to like the attention.

In comparison, Penelope’s own gown, which was one of her more daring ones, seemed drab.

She leaned forward and stared over the crowd. As the night wore on and the drinks flowed freely, the behavior of the guests below seemed to be deteriorating. She sucked in a gasp when a gentleman leaned down to lick the naked nipple of his dance partner before he laughed and spun her away to another leering gentleman who cupped the same firm breast and ground his hips against her suggestively.

Penelope tore her gaze away, instead staring toward a corner of the room that was hidden behind a white linen screen. It wasn’t visible from the dance floor, but from her elevated position she could see over the top and to the empty space behind it. As tempting as the sensual images before her were, her senses were
beginning to be overwhelmed by the blatant eroticism all around her.

Overwhelmed and…and titilated. Penelope squeezed her eyes shut. She would never admit it, not to anyone, but watching the couples writhe together, kiss in full view of everyone around them, touch each other…it was all infinitely arousing.

It was so wrong to feel this way. These women were being used, weren’t they? They might laugh and moan and preen, but they had no other choices…did they?

She opened her eyes with a sigh and found that a couple had slipped behind the screen in the corner of the room while she mused on her own reactions to what she saw all around her. The woman was a pretty dark-haired lady, decked out in a beautiful red satin gown with lacy swirls around her shoulders. Her companion was a well-built gentleman wearing a bull mask that matched the shocking red of his companion’s dress.

Penelope watched as they whispered to each other for a few minutes. The lady leaned up toward the gentlemen, resting her hands against his chest with a familiar touch that spoke of a deep and physical relationship. And when he guided his hands along her spine and began to gently massage her backside through the silky dress, it became clear to Penelope that the two were lovers.

As they began to kiss with a passionate abandon that sent a wicked thrill through Penelope’s body. She knew she should turn away. It wasn’t right for her to watch such a thing, to be aroused by the very activities she was fighting against. And yet, she couldn’t stop herself. It was as if she were frozen, held still by some invisible power that forced her to observe from afar.

She glanced around. No one was nearby to see her shameful voyeurism. And the couple below had no idea that they were being observed. Perhaps they wouldn’t care even if they were aware of her presence, since they had chosen to begin their love play behind a thin screen at a busy ball.

No, no one ever had to know what she was doing. So Penelope surrendered herself to the images below.

The lady had broken the full, wet mouth kisses she and her companion were sharing and started to trail her lips along the front of his coat, then lower, lower until she had dropped to her knees before the gentleman. Penelope gasped as the two loosened his trousers together and the lady drew out his hard shaft into her hand. Even from a distance, Penelope could see the hard thrust of muscle curling up.