Wickedly Wanton: A Ménage Regency Tale (2 page)

“We should head back,” he heard Faith say, “and discuss this.”

“I need to freshen up,” Sabine said in a shaky voice.

Quietly laughing, he headed deeper into the woods. He was in no condition to return to the picnic. Not with his erection throbbing for the lush warmth of Miss Sabine's virginal body.

Sabine tried to control her breathing as she and Faith returned to the picnic. And hoped Mr. Reddick didn't approach her. She'd done her best to avoid him today, but feeling as she did, so wet between her thighs and confused as to her reactions, she didn't want to take the chance on him wishing to speak with her.

She held her dress up and out a bit, hoping the wetness between her thighs didn't stain the fabric for all to see. For everyone to know what had happened between her and Faith…between the two of them and Lord Severn.

The thought of it sent another tingle through her. Desire. She knew what it was, had heard of it, but had never experienced it for herself. Until today.

How to alleviate this need? This feeling throbbing in her most secret parts? Swallowing, she willed this foreign feeling away, endeavored to regain her equilibrium.

All eyes stared at her. They knew, every single one of them knew, could see it on her face, she was positive. Sabine controlled her features, or tried to, but her mind raced with the implications of what had happened by the stream. Oh, she wanted more. Despite her initial reserve, she desperately wanted more.

Lord Severn had also returned to the picnic, and now stood talking to her father. She caught his eye, watched a slight knowing smile cross his lips. And remembered how they felt against her own. She licked her lips, could swear she could still taste him, and felt another flood of moisture. Knowing her face flamed with embarrassment, she turned to Faith.

“I'm going inside,” she whispered, averting her eyes from everyone.

Faith continued to smile, and Sabine wanted to smack it off her face but couldn't bring herself to do so. It would only bring more attention to her, and she wanted to hide as it was.

Without another word, she entered the house, ignoring everyone around her, and headed for her bedroom. Just before she reached it, another flood of voices drifted to her, and she hid in an alcove.

Mortified, she dropped her dress and buried her face in her hands, and resisted when Faith tugged her elbow. “Come!” she snapped, that ridiculous smile still shining on her face. “We're almost there.”

Her room was deserted, and Sabine carefully sat on the edge of the bed. She could hear the party outside, despite the location of her rooms.

“What we did was shocking!” Her voice shook;
she
shook but couldn't seem to stop. “What we allowed Lord Severn to do to us…” She trailed off, still aroused but wholly ashamed of her behavior.

Faith moved to the basin and dipped the cloth into the bowl of water. She wrung it out and crossed the room again, seemingly unconcerned with what happened in the wood. Sabine studied her carefully and saw the faint blush still staining her cheeks. Not of embarrassment, but of desire. Her eyes were glassy, as well, and her chest still heaved slightly.

“Shocking?” Faith asked as she stood before her. “What do we know of shocking? We've always been excluded from those conversations.”

She knelt before Sabine and tenderly lifted her dress. Frozen on the bed at this knowledge of a side of her friend she never imagined, Sabine allowed Faith to see her, all of her. Her hand was gentle as she slowly glided the cloth over her leg, her knee.

“Besides, Sabine,” she whispered, glancing up at her with a coy smile, “it was fun.” The cloth moved along her inner thigh with a touch so light Sabine shivered. “Didn't you enjoy the way he touched you? The way he had us touch each other?”

Shaking her head, heart pounding in her veins, flushed from Faith's touch, she could only stare at her friend. “Yes,” she whispered, scandalized to discover she'd moved her legs slightly apart and that Faith's hand inched closer to her most private area. More, that she wanted Faith to touch her. Wanted to feel those sensations again as they flowed through her, feel Faith's fingers within her.

“I enjoyed it,” she slowly admitted, eyes averted. “But I'm not sure I should have.”

“You shouldn't be embarrassed, Sabine,” Faith whispered, fingers just brushing her. Sabine fought against the almost overwhelming need to beg Faith to touch her again. “It's private between you, me, and Lord Severn.”

“How do we know we can trust him?” she demanded, pleased her voice sounded so steady when her body did not. “He came upon us by the stream; we've never met him before today! No introduction at all.”

She stood and walked away from her friend, letting her dress fall back into place. Still unsteady, her knees threatened to buckle and her stomach clenched with a need she couldn't describe.

“A true gentleman coming upon us in the stream,” Sabine insisted, “would have never made his presence known. He would have averted his eyes and known that what happened between us was naught but girlish games.”

“He showed us it could be more than mere games,” Faith said, but remained kneeling. Sabine was oddly attracted to that pose in a way she wouldn't have thought of before the encounter by the stream. She wondered why as a surge of need pulsed through her.

Standing, Faith dropped the cloth and stood before her. Sabine almost ordered her back on her knees but stopped. Touching her arm, Faith asked, “What harm is there in all of this?”

Incredulous, Sabine stared at her. “What harm? Our reputations could be ruined beyond repair. So much
harm
could come from this!”

“Not if we are prudent with our rendezvous,” Faith insisted.

Sabine narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Her friend seemed to want this more than she'd have ever thought. Did she want Lord Severn? Sabine herself? Or both…?

Shaking her head, she smiled at Faith. Arguing wasn't the way to change her mind. “But we don't know if
he
can truly be prudent,” she whispered, “or if we can truly put our trust in him.”

Even though she didn't want to admit this to Faith, Sabine was intrigued with the notion of meeting Lord Severn. A chance like she'd never have again, an adventure like no other. She wanted this; what was more, she wanted him. The afternoon interlude by the stream had brought out a side of her she had worked hard to suppress.

Now, with her marriage to Reddick looming, Sabine wanted to let go. To feel all she could, explore while she had the chance to do so. Even now, her skin tingled and her core clenched in desire, slick with need.

“I've not heard of any scandals involving women, have you?” Faith asked.

“No.” Sabine shook her head, focusing on the conversation at hand. “But that does not mean there haven't been any. We'll inquire after his reputation.”

Faith nodded, accepting it. Sabine relaxed though there was a part of her disappointed in her own words. She couldn't admit how very much she wanted to experience more of the wonderful new sensations Lord Severn—and Faith—had brought forth in her this afternoon.

* * * *

Sabine entered her father's study. It wasn't his, per se, of course; they were guests in Mr. Beauchamp's home for the summer. She missed their townhouse in London, but could admit, even without the encounter by the stream this afternoon, she rather enjoyed the country.

Taking her time, she looked around the furnishings. Decorated in much the same style as the rest of the house, the tapestry-upholstered chairs matched the tapestries along the walls. The room felt very open, despite the dark-paneled walls and shelves of books her father would never bother to read. However, the Louis XIV chairs seemed too small next to her robust father and his guest.

Her eyes inevitably focused on Mr. Rupert Reddick. The man she was to marry.

Taking a deep breath, Sabine nodded politely to him, offering a small curtsy in greeting. Her stomach churned with anger, resentment, and a little fear, but she kept her face blank of all emotion. Her father would use that against her.

“Harold,” Reddick said as if the two men were the oldest and best of friends. Sabine knew better but remained silent. “Your daughter has grown into quite the beauty.”

Harold Stanton nodded, laughed in agreement. Taking her arm, he steered her toward the fireplace.

“Sabine,” he said, “Mr. Reddick has come to call on you. I'm very pleased with this match and expect you to be amenable as well.” When she said nothing, he tightened his fingers on her arm, but not hard enough to bruise. “Treat him well, Sabine. It will make your wedding night more pleasant.”

She gave one stiff nod and held her tongue.

“Excellent!” he said, letting her go. “I'll leave you two alone to converse.”

So saying, he quickly exited the room and closed the door behind him. For a heartbeat, Sabine stared at the closed door in shock. Clearly, her father cared naught for her reputation. Or for what Mr. Reddick may do to her with no chaperone.

Reddick smiled a rather charming smile at her, and she marginally relaxed. “You have nothing to fear,” he said. “Come sit next to me so we may better know each other.”

Purposely sitting in a single chair, no longer relaxed, Sabine offered a modest smile.

“Did you enjoy yourself at the picnic this afternoon?” he asked.

Working hard not to blush, she nodded. Memories flooded back about the afternoon, and with them the flood of desire she felt at both Faith's tender touches and Aiden's demanding kiss. Forcing her body to remain still, no matter how she wished to squirm at the heat of those recollections, Sabine tried to smile but knew it was a mere imitation of one.

Mortified, she managed an even, “Yes, it was a wonderful afternoon.”

“I noticed you and your friend. Faith, is it?” She nodded and he continued, “Slip away for a bit. Unfortunately, I couldn't follow,” he added with a grin that could only be described as regretful, “as I had business to attend to with Lord Barrett.”

He leaned forward and said in a lower voice, “I would have liked to follow. I understand young ladies like to dip their…
toes
in the cool stream.”

“Sometimes,” she said, voice steady, “on very hot days.”

Standing, unable to look at him with her memories of this afternoon's adventure so vivid in her mind, she walked to the window. The drapes had yet to be drawn; her father liked looking outdoors and hated any window to be covered if he was in the room.

“I imagine,” Reddick's voice said from entirely too close behind her, “that on very hot days you'd enjoy wading into the cool water.”

Jerking her head to look at him, Sabine tried to back away. Impossible, she stood trapped between the window and Reddick, who watched her with a hungry look in his pale blue eyes.

“That would not be appropriate,” she said, forcing another smile as a mixture of strange sensations coursed through her. “Anyone could see.”

“When we are married”—his hand caressed her cheek, stroking along her neck, and she repressed a shiver—”I can arrange for enough privacy to allow for it. I'd very much like to see”—he leaned closer—”the water glistening along your supple flesh.”

His breathe tickled her ear and Sabine's heart pounded, part in arousal, part in embarrassment. She wasn't used to this kind of talk and twice in one day. Still, she wished it was Lord Severn, not Mr. Reddick, who spoke to her like this.

At the thought of Severn's voice whispering those words, her stomach clenched in desire, breath speeding, blood racing. Naked in the stream with Aiden beside her, teaching her all the erotic arts as he had promised. It was too tempting.

How could anyone resist the handsome marquess? His dark brown eyes that could look straight through her and discern every sexual wish, the smile that hinted at every risqué desire she'd ever had.

“Your imagination runs away with you,” she managed. “How are you to know if I would be interested in such an afternoon?”

Reddick's eyebrow raised in response and he grinned. “You'd be my wife. I would expect it of you.”

Stepping to the side, she put distance between them. “Wives are fickle creatures. What you speak of,” she continued with a saucy grin she couldn't quite help, caught up in this newness of sensation as she was, “is better suited for a mistress. I am a proper young woman and my only interest is in seeing to the running of your household. And spending your money,” she added tartly, “on the latest fashionable frocks.”

The laugh was amused, easy, as if he didn't quite believe her but would indulge her. Oh good Lord,
had
he seen them this afternoon? Did he know her secret?

In a move she didn't expect, he stood before her. His hand cupped her breast, kneading gently, and Sabine refused to arch further into his touch. “You can have all the frocks and baubles you desire. As long as I can have the bauble I want.”

Stepping back, she broke contact and frowned at him. The conversation had veered in a dangerous direction. Far from discouraging him, every move she made showed her just how persistent he could be. Even enticed. Excited.

“Mr. Reddick,” she said, attempting to imbue her voice with humor, but knew she failed. “I think we've had enough intellectual intercourse. I have duties to attend to.”

She curtsied to him, ignored his knowing look, and left as quickly as she could without a backward glance.

Returning to her room, inundated by sensations she'd never experienced before but longed to feel more of, Sabine locked the door behind her. She needed to wash herself again. But that thought only brought to mind the teasing feel of Faith's fingers along her thigh, just touching her core.

With a moan she only partly understood, Sabine moved to the basin and picked up a clean cloth. This day had turned out to be nothing like what she had anticipated.

It was the next morning before Sabine had the chance to talk with Faith. She hadn't slept well the previous night, thinking about Faith's touch, Lord Severn's kisses, and Mr. Reddick and the odd feelings he engendered. The hungry look in his eyes, the promise of what he wanted to do to her once they married.

She'd risen early to walk before breakfast, sending her maid to wake Faith as well so she could speak with her friend. And now, as they wandered the vast grounds of the Beauchamp estate, purposely heading to the west, she realized how very much she didn't want to share a bed with Mr. Rupert Reddick.

The day promised to be hot with the sun just barely grazing the green landscape. A thin haze of humidity hung over everything, but that didn't stop her thoughts from tumbling over each other. Severn. Faith. Reddick. Faith and Severn. She and Severn. She and Faith.

Shaking her head at these thoughts, she missed what Faith said. “What was that?”

“What happened last night?” she asked, brown eyes soft with concern. “With Mr. Reddick?”

“It turned into an interesting meeting,” Sabine said, refusing to meet her friend's gaze. “He was much more forward than I estimated him to be.”

“Forward?” Faith repeated, clearly surprised. “It never occurred to me he would be so while courting you. What did your father say?”

“Father left us alone,” Sabine confessed, stopping at the top of a small hill and looking over the grounds. She could no longer see the Beauchamp manor. “And closed the door behind him on his way out.” If she turned slightly to the left, she could see the distant shape of Lord Severn's house. She knew where it was,
whose
it was, because she'd made it a point to ask her maid about Beauchamp's neighbors after the picnic yesterday.

“Oh,” she amended, eyeing the house, “he wasn't as forward as Lord Severn.” Just the thought had her shuddering with feelings she still didn't fully understand. “But he made his intentions perfectly clear. As Reddick's wife, I doubt there'd be any adventure,” she continued slowly as Faith came up beside her. “But he's still so much older than I am. And the invitation from Lord Severn has piqued my curiosity.”

“Mr. Reddick may be a fine match for your future,” Faith said with a hint of something in her voice that had Sabine turning to eye her suspiciously. “But as I said before, take this experience Lord Severn offers and enjoy it before you're trapped.”

The entire previous night she'd thought of little else. Sabine couldn't deny she wanted Lord Severn; he intrigued her. More, he enticed her. Tearing her gaze from his home, she watched Faith from the corner of her eye. Where had the shy little mouse she'd known all her life gone? Vanished in the face of sexual knowledge.

That thought made Sabine smile. Sexual knowledge, eh? Just what kind would Aiden Merryck offer? What would he teach her? Sabine wanted to know everything. All he had to share with her, she craved.

“This could be,” Faith continued, unaware of Sabine's thoughts, “a day you'll remember forever. We both would,” she whispered, stepping closer.

No, she never before realized what her friend felt for her. Still wasn't certain if it was mere curiosity or more. But Faith's eyes held the same hungry look as Lord Severn's, as Mr. Reddick's. Unlike her response to the latter's look, Sabine's stomach clenched in sharp need when she watched Faith.

“I haven't had the chance to ask anyone as to Lord Severn's reputation,” she said, turning to fully face her friend.

“I have.” Sabine nodded in surprise and Faith said, “While you were occupied with Mr. Reddick, I spoke to the one person who would know about everyone in this village: the parson's wife. She came by last evening to speak with the housekeeper, and I spent considerable time with her.”

“And?” Sabine asked. “Don't keep me in suspense. What did she say?”

“There are many women who would like to make a match with him,” Faith said, telling her nothing she didn't already know. “She did indicate his tastes were discerning and he took his time choosing a bride. To her knowledge, there has been no scandalous rumor surrounding either him or his estate.”

Sabine nodded and her gaze wandered back to the distant manor. Faith leaned closer, and when she next spoke, it was from immediately next to her. If Sabine leaned just slightly, her friend's lips would touch her skin.

“There's nothing stopping us from accepting his invitation.”

* * * *

Sabine was disgusted with herself at how long she dithered over what to put in the note, how to send it, and what his response might be. She and Faith spent considerable time choosing the wording of the missive, then debating the best way to send it round so the servants here wouldn't realize aught was amiss, and Severn's own servants wouldn't talk either.

He claimed they were circumspect, but all servants gossiped.

Yet once Faith left, Sabine debated, again, the wisdom of sending it. Of accepting the invitation. Of the entire endeavor. It was madness, sheer madness. One she wished to embrace wholeheartedly.

So while Faith walked the several miles to Lord Severn's with Sabine's note, Sabine herself made it a point to speak with her father and had agreed to see Mr. Reddick when he returned from London at the end of the week. She reconciled herself to marrying him; there was no choice in the matter.

But this one form of deliberate defiance she planned on seeing through. No matter she'd go to her bed no longer a virgin. There were ways around that—her boarding school had taught her more than how to be a proper young lady.

Defiance. Yes, she thought as she wandered the gardens. Defiance. She'd often defied her father, though he rarely bothered to realize it. Her friendship with Faith was one such effrontery to the authority he held over her. He didn't like Faith's family—she thought there was a business rivalry with the Mountmorris's—but as her father never discussed his business with her, Sabine didn't honestly know. Nor did she care.

And while her friendship with the shy and unassuming Faith began out of rebelliousness, it had evolved into her only true friendship. When she planned that at Miss Lauren's Academy for Young Women, Sabine hadn't envisioned finding a girl who so complimented her. Faith proved not only to be utterly loyal to her and their friendship, but also witty and unerringly accurate in her observations of those around them.

The rebellion she showed before only increased with Faith as her backup. It was odd that now, Faith seemed to be the instigator.

This marriage, Sabine knew with certainty, was her father's way of punishing her for such insolence. Every little thing she'd done not to his liking, he now battled back at her with this marriage to a man at least ten years
his
senior.

She had no choice in seeing Mr. Reddick, but she felt she had to placate her father so he didn't hound her so. Especially not when she planned on losing her virginity to Lord Severn…and including Faith in that however the marquess saw fit.

Swallowing against the excitement these thoughts caused, Sabine went to speak with Cook about a picnic for the next day.

* * * *

Faith had to force herself to walk at a mild pace, but she was thrilled at this opportunity. It may very well be the only time she'd get to be with Sabine, get to taste her in ways she'd only dreamed.

All those seemingly innocent touches, hugs, light kisses that meant more to her than she was sure meant to Sabine. She'd get to experience it all, not just imagine it as she touched herself. Her own fingers paled in comparison to what she knew Sabine's would feel like on her. In her.

No matter how she imagined Sabine's pale limbs wrapped around her, the reality would be tenfold as pleasurable, more than enough to satisfy her for years to come. Oh, Faith had seen Sabine naked before, had even slept with her in the same bed. Tomorrow, however, she would kiss her from head to foot, taste her sweet juices, pleasure her until Sabine screamed her name,
Faith's name
, as Faith had moaned Sabine's name for years.

Her breath came in short gasps as Severn's manor came into view, and she desperately wished to finger herself until she came to orgasm. First, she had to deliver this note or she'd never get to feel Sabine's skin against hers.

Too aroused to be embarrassed, Faith soon found a footman and bade him deliver the note to his master. He bowed and scurried off to do so, and Faith turned for home, all thoughts on what she wanted to do to Sabine.

Detouring into the wood, she carefully looked around before sitting behind a tree. Severn could see her darkest desires. Faith knew he could. Somehow he saw in one meeting what her beloved Sabine hadn't seen in years of friendship. Of extra touches, of ravenous looks.

Carefully lifting her skirt, Faith dipped two fingers into her wet core and imagined Sabine's heated gaze on her as her fingers did this, as she learned what made Faith scream, what Faith's juices tasted like. Quickly plunging them in and out, her thumbnail scraping over her nub, Faith could easily picture Sabine's blonde head between her legs, her tongue tasting her as her fingers plunged into her.

Moaning, she climaxed, fingers buried deep within, Sabine's name on her lips.

She wiped her fingers in the grass beside her and instantly regretted it. What did she taste like? Faith licked her lips. What did Sabine taste like? Dipping her fingers into herself again, she brought them to her lips. The taste was tangier than she expected, strange.

Eyes closed, she let herself drift in her fantasy of her and Sabine. Yes, Lord Severn knew of her feelings for Sabine, but Faith didn't care. Let him think what he would—all she wanted was tomorrow with Sabine.