Something Reckless (8 page)

He stroked her with a combination of wicked intent and infinite gentleness. He stretched her body, opening her for…

She knew what for. He had every intention of taking this heated, unexpected, animalistic coming together to its end. He was going to have her. Against a wall in the parlor of one of the most influential and stern leaders of London Society.

And Penelope couldn’t find her voice to stop him. Especially when his fingers curled inside her and she felt the whisper of his breath against her bare skin.

She jolted her gaze down and watched as the shadow of his head moved in. She squinted but could make out no features in the dark and still room. Just a shadow lover, as he had been in all her fantasies.

But this was real. The brush of his lips against her thigh was real. The way he tugged against her draws, ripping the fine satin until it hung useless around her legs and then brought his mouth up to give her the most intimate kiss was real.

She braced her legs, rolling her head against the wall behind her as exquisite sensation roared through her. His tongue stroked her outer lips, teased the little nub hidden within the folds of
her sex, sucked it until the dull, warm throb of desire roared into a mounting crescendo. She thrust against him, against both her will and her reason, and reached wantonly for the release she wanted so badly. A release of her body. Of her spirit.

A release of everything she fought for.

That thought brought her up short. Her body teetered on the edge of madness and she could not allow herself to fall. With a sob of anything but pleasure, Penelope detangled her fingers from his hair and skirted away from his wicked tongue.

“No,” she moaned, turning to face the wall. She sagged against it as she smoothed her skirt down between the cool surface and her body. “No, no I can’t.”

Jeremy stared up at Penelope, wishing he could see the details of her face in the darkness. He could only hear her ragged breaths, the ones that matched his own panting. Her body had been so close to release, he had already felt the first flutterings against his tongue. He’d tasted the desperate neediness of her flesh, felt the liquid relief as it poured over him.

And he had ached for more of it. In that moment, he hadn’t been thinking about anything but making her sob with release. Feeling her rock with pleasure. And doing it again and again until she lay weak and satisfied on the floor beneath his hard body.

The idea that she would refuse him without even allowing her own pleasure hadn’t entered his mind. Not when she had reacted so powerfully to his kiss, his touch, his heat.

Apparently, he had underestimated her dedication to her foolish quest and strange moral code.

He pushed from his knees and stood watching her shadow as she continued to lean on the wall, her back to him.

“Penelope,” he whispered, and this time it took no effort to make his voice rough and strange. “Why do you push me away when all your body’s reactions tell me how much you want my touch?”

She spun around and in the dim shadows he saw her shake her head. “My wants, they are not all I must consider. You must know that, since you know my identity. I don’t know why you chose me to write your…”

She hesitated and he heard her breath release in a shuddering sigh.

“…to write your letters to.”

He stepped closer and her body stiffened. “Because I have wanted you since the first moment I saw you.”

“No,” she whispered, but he had the distinct feeling she was saying it to herself, not denying him. “I can’t. I cannot allow you, I cannot allow this.”

She sidestepped him, staggering across the room until she stood in that shaft of moonlight by the door again. She rested her forehead on the barrier, her shoulders rolled forward.

“Please, I don’t know who you are. I don’t want to know. But you cannot write to me again. You cannot seek me out. Just…just leave me be.”

Then she threw open the door and rushed into the hallway, leaving Jeremy alone. He stared at the place where she had stood and let out a low curse, though he wasn’t angry.

No, there was some other feeling. One he rarely experienced. Disappointment, mixed with a tinge of regret. His body was so hard that he ached all over, and it was clear he wouldn’t have satisfaction tonight unless he sought it from another woman.

He licked his lips and tasted the sweet ambrosia of Penelope’s body on his tongue. Another woman would only satisfy him temporarily. It was Penelope he wanted.

She had run away tonight, rushed back into the crowd unsatisfied, but that did not mean she had been unchanged. Even if she had not allowed either one of them to find release, she had surrendered, given herself over to a man who existed only in shadow. To a stranger who had seduced her with words.

Her shaking body, her moans of pleasure, they had been proof that the lovely Penelope hid desires that were polar opposites of the proper code she lived by.

Jeremy smiled as he took a quick glance into the hall and made his way back to his waiting carriage. He might go home hard and aching tonight, but he had no doubt that with a little more time, a little more pressure, he would have Penelope. First her body, then her soul. And her cause would soon be crushed in the wave of pleasure he would surely introduce her to.

The frayed satin edges of Penelope’s torn drawers stroked her still trembling thighs beneath her gown. The gentle brush of ragged fabric tormented her already edgy body. It was a constant reminder of what she had done. Of what more she
still
wanted to do with a stranger whose intent she didn’t understand.

But that hadn’t mattered the moment he brushed his lips to hers. She had thrown away all hesitation and surrendered like a reckless wanton. She blushed as she recalled every pleasurable sensation that had washed over her in the dark. As she recalled that she hadn’t made any effort to stop the faceless stranger when he touched her.

Her hands shook as she took a glass of wine from a passing servant’s tray. As she swallowed a hefty gulp of the liquid, she willed herself to be calm, but it was all in vain.

She wanted to go home. She wanted to hide from her memories.

And worst of all, she wanted to talk to Jeremy, of all people. Even though she doubted his intentions, even though his presence made her nervous and needy, she wanted to see him. To tell him what had happened and ask his advice.

He wouldn’t judge her. He wouldn’t think she was disgusting. He would understand.

Wouldn’t he?

“Penelope!”

Penelope’s shoulders stiffened at the piercing sound of her mother’s voice coming across the ballroom behind her. Great God, of all the nights she didn’t want to see her mother. Spending time with Dorthea Albright was already trying enough, even when Penelope didn’t have ragged nerves and an aching, empty body that kept reminding her of her sins.

With a grimace, Penelope turned. Her mother was shouldering her way through the crowd with Penelope’s younger sister Beatrice at her side, a glower on the other girl’s face.

“Hello, Mama,” Penelope said. “Beatrice. Where is Winifred?”

Beatrice folded her arms with a frown. “
She
was asked to dance. Which isn’t fair. I’m older than her by a whole year. If a young man wants to dance with an Albright, he ought to choose me.”

Penelope bit her tongue. It would do no good to point out to Beatrice that her superior attitude and sour expression likely kept young men from pressing a suit for her hand. Beatrice had always been her mother’s child, raised with a sense of entitlement that did not fit her station in life. She was cold and spoiled, and her attitude alienated women and men alike.

Penelope had often thought her sister must be awfully lonely
in the ivory tower she had built around herself. But there was no stopping her, or their mother’s encouragement of such vanity and superiority.

“Don’t worry about Winifred,” Dorthea shushed. “That boy she’s with is
only
a baron’s son. Not worth your time, certainly.”

Penelope bit back a gasp. Her mother had spoken so loudly that certainly a few families around them had heard her disparaging comment.

“Mama,” she whispered, clasping her mother’s arm. “You speak out of turn.”

“I do not,” her mother insisted, shaking herself free. “Your sister should not marry anyone less than an earl like her sister has married.”

Beatrice nodded. “Yes, and you shouldn’t talk, Penelope. After all, you’ve been working on landing a duke.”

Penelope’s jaw dropped open, and she stared at her mother and sister. “First, we are not a family who is titled, and even though Miranda married an earl, it does not follow that Beatrice and Winifred will marry men of that rank.” She turned on her sister. “And as for me marrying a duke, I have no idea where you heard that rumor, but I am not marrying anyone!”

Her mother smiled. “Come now, Society is buzzing with talk of how you and the Duke of Kilgrath have been spotted talking very closely. The man has six estates and at least fifty thousand pounds a year, Penelope! You will exceed even Miranda. I am so proud!”

Penelope swallowed hard. Her head was beginning to spin. Great God, were people truly saying such things? With her
mother, it was hard to tell the difference between truth and hopeful delusion.

“The Duke of Kilgrath has shown an interest in my thoughts on the behavior of the men of his circles,” Penelope insisted. “We are not courting.”

Although that was something she occasionally had to remind herself of, like she had earlier in the day, when they had toured the sinful gallery where he kept his erotic art.

Her mother’s smile fell. “Your ideas. Dear Lord, child, you shall ruin everything if you continue your incessant babbling. You are garnering a reputation, my dear. One just as damaging as if you were cavorting around in dark corners like a woman of easy virtue.”

Penelope bit her lip. She had been doing just that not an hour before. A bit more than cavorting, actually. She had very nearly surrendered to the sinful touch of a man whose face she hadn’t even seen.

And she had liked it. Which made her the biggest fraud in the land.

“…and when you talk to Miranda and Ethan, I hope you will do just that,” her mother continued.

Although Penelope didn’t know what her mother had been rattling on about, the mention of Penelope’s sister and her husband made Penelope jolt back to attention.

“Speak to Miranda and Ethan?” she repeated as her heart jolted to her chest. “I have no intention of speaking to either one of them.”

Her mother frowned. “I do not understand what made you
break ties with your sister. The two of you were thick as thieves until her marriage. It’s silly to be jealous of her accomplishments when you know her husband could be very influential in your life.”

Penelope bit back a bark of unladylike laughter. Oh yes, Ethan Hamon, Earl of Rothschild, could be very influential. She’d seen firsthand just how
influential
he could be. And if her mother knew just exactly how he had “wooed” Miranda, she wondered if Dorthea would approve of him so much.

Sadly, her mother might see only the money and influence the match had garnered their family. Perhaps she wouldn’t care about the means to the end.

But Penelope did.

“They are here tonight and you
shall
speak to Miranda!” Dorthea insisted as she snapped her fan shut and rapped it against her palm. “This feud between you must end.”

Penelope gasped as her gaze moved around the room. Sure enough, no more than twenty paces away stood her eldest sister Miranda, her hand curved into the crook of her husband’s arm. She was leaning against him ever so slightly, looking up at him as she whispered something to him. It wasn’t hard to guess the topic of the conversation from the way Rothschild returned her smile with a wicked one of his own.

Penelope broke her stare away.

“I am going home,” she said through clenched teeth.

“No, you are not,” her mother snapped, reaching for her.

Penelope dodged her grip. “I am.”

She found her sister a second time and saw that the couple was
moving toward them. From across the room, Miranda met her stare. Penelope’s heart ached. Miranda had once been her best friend, her closest confidante. Or at least, she’d
thought
they’d been that close, but it had turned out to be a lie.

Still, when she looked into Miranda’s eyes she saw the close relationship they’d once had. She saw the warmth and care of her oldest sister.

But when she looked at Miranda and Ethan together, Penelope saw all the lies, all the deceptions. And she also saw a reminder of everything she couldn’t even want, let alone have. It was another shameful reminder of how close she’d come to throwing away the virtues she extolled.

“Good evening,” she stammered, before she rushed away, her mother’s calls of her name still ringing in her ears.

Jeremy paced his bed chamber, his robe flapping around his bare thighs with every step. Although it was almost noon and nearly twelve hours had passed since his powerful encounter with Penelope, the intensity of their exchange still rocked him. And the memories…well, he had perfect recall. He could still smell her light perfume, could still feel the warmth of her skin beneath his.

He could still taste her on his lips. An earthy, sweet combination that made his cock rock hard no matter how many times he found release at his own hand. It had been more than once since she left him, and yet, even now, his arousal taunted him from beneath his robe.

Allowing Penelope to go when he knew he could have coaxed
her back with another kiss, another touch, had been very difficult. Almost impossible.

And that was troubling. He hadn’t felt this strongly about a woman in a long time. Desire was a hunger that he fed and then forgot. But with Penelope, it was different. Thoughts of her tormented him.

As did the knowledge that he could have very easily fulfilled his duty last night. He could have arranged for the two of them to be interrupted in that room. Any of his friends would have been happy to bring respected witnesses to the parlor at some prearranged hour and interrupt the passionate scene within.

If anyone had seen the wild, erotic display, Penelope would have been ruined. The ladies who were so enthralled with Penelope’s thoughts on the evils of Society’s unfettered sexuality could not have overlooked their leader’s wanton display.

His own friends would have been fully satisfied in Penelope’s ruination.

But Jeremy hadn’t made any arrangements of the kind. He hadn’t
wanted
to be interrupted. He hadn’t
wanted
to end his pursuit of Penelope.

He’d only wanted to touch her. And he still did.

“Your Grace, Lady Norman awaits you on the Sunset Veranda.”

Jeremy jolted at the sound of his butler’s voice from the door. He spun around to face the man. “Lady Norman?” he repeated, ignoring how his cock hardened even more at the thought that she was here.

“Yes, sir,” the servant said with a nod, keeping his eyes on Jeremy’s face.

“She is early, I did not expect her until two,” he murmured, more to himself than to the servant.

“Should I tell her you are not in house, sir?”

“No!” Jeremy said, a bit more forcefully than he had intended. He caught his breath. There was no need to allow his eagerness to show in everything he said and did. “No. Please tell her that I will be down when I have dressed. And prepare luncheon. I believe the lady and I will dine on the veranda together, since it is such a pretty day.”

He didn’t mention that he also looked forward to seeing the early afternoon sunshine dance off of Penelope’s golden hair.

“Yes, sir. I will send in Paddington, as well,” the butler said as he bowed from the room.

Jeremy grinned as he moved to his dressing room to await his valet. If Penelope had come to his home almost two full hours before their appointed schedule, it could only mean she had something important to share with him.

And he had a sneaking suspicion that the
something
had to do with last night.

He wasn’t dressed. That was what Jeremy’s servant had said before he bowed away, leaving Penelope to wait in the warm sunshine of the summer’s day. She wrung her hands in her lap as sinful thoughts bombarded her.

Thoughts of Jeremy’s naked body. Thoughts of the things Jeremy could do to her with that naked body.

She pushed to her feet and paced to the veranda wall. She fisted her hands against the railing and looked down to the gardens below. What was wrong with her? Last night she had let a total
stranger kiss her in the most intimate way imaginable, twelve hours later she was fantasizing about allowing Jeremy Vaughn to do the same thing.

Her principles were eroding at a shocking rate.

She dipped her head, shutting her eyes as shame washed over her. How had things come to this? She hadn’t grown up wanting to be some kind of crusader. She had dreamed of passion and pleasure just like any young girl.

But things had changed. They had changed when Penelope realized just how far Miranda would go to protect their family. They had changed when Penelope married and her husband’s concept of passion was far different from her own.

They had changed when she made a few frustrated comments about the sinful excess of the men of the
ton
. Somehow those things had turned her into the woman she was now.

But it all felt like an illusion. Now, standing in the revealing sunshine of Jeremy’s terrace, she wasn’t certain of herself any longer. And in the darkness of the room last night, with a stranger pinning her to the wall, his hot, rough tongue coaxing wicked moans from her lips, she hadn’t felt like a crusader. She hadn’t felt wrong.

She had felt alive.

She covered her face with a shuddering sigh. She wasn’t even sure who she was anymore. Or what she wanted. She’d come to Jeremy Vaughn’s house two hours before their appointed meeting time, violating social niceties and opening herself up to even more remarks like the ones her mother had insinuated the night before, but she didn’t care. It was like she was no
longer in control of her own heart, her own body, her decisions.

“Penelope, I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

She spun around to face Jeremy as he strolled onto the veranda with a broad smile. But the instant he saw her face, that smile faded into a look of pure concern that made her heart ache even more.

“Are you well?” he asked as he closed the distance between them in a few long steps. He caught her hands and drew her closer to look down into her eyes. “You are pale. Are you ill? Can I summon a doctor for you?”

Penelope blushed as she slowly extracted her fingers from his. It was almost impossible to think when he was touching her.

“No, I-I am perfectly well,” she stammered as she backed away a step. “I am simply tired. I had a trying evening.”

He frowned. “The ball was not pleasant, I assume. Did more people make impertinent remarks? Were you threatened again?”

She shook her head. “No, not last night.” She struggled to regain her composure. “My mother was in attendance, though. Did you know that some people are apparently whispering that you and I may be courting?”

Jeremy drew back, and Penelope didn’t miss the slight flicker of panic that darkened his already dark eyes. Even if he claimed to be changing his attitude, it was clear he had no interest in settling down with only one woman. Or at least not with her.