A Week to Be Wicked (31 page)

A week ago had he harbored some vague concern that he might ruin this girl? Taint her reputation beyond repair? Or, horrors—steal her virtue?

She should have been so lucky.

Look at her now. Curled up, shivering uncontrollably. Skin pale, lips blue, gown in rags. Dreams left shattered and strewn on a country road, and all her hopes for the future vanished. As he undressed her, he found a horrific bruise swelling on her shoulder.

This went beyond social ruin. This was complete and total devastation he’d wrought upon her.

The deep, eviscerating pain Colin felt at that moment told him two things, both equally tragic.

He loved her, beyond anything.

And she was lost to him, forever.

Chapter Twenty-nine

A
mazing, what an hour’s rest, a warm fire, and a spot of doctored tea could do for a girl’s constitution. As she snuggled into her warm nest of blankets, Minerva decided fleecy quilts were her new favorite attire.

And she’d yet to have the promised grand tour, but judging by what little she’d glimpsed thus far, Riverchase was the finest home Minerva had ever dripped inside.

If only Colin would abandon his post by the hearth and come sit next to her, she would feel completely restored. He looked so miserable. She started to rise and go to him. But he stayed her with an outstretched hand and single, harsh word.

“
Don’t
.”

His voice and his eyes were so cold. Minerva shrank back into the divan.

He stared into the fire. “I’m sending you back to London. Tomorrow.”

“You’re . . .” Her breath caught painfully. “You’re sending me to London? Not taking me.”

Now that Scotland was no longer their destination, she supposed it made sense that they would turn back. But tomorrow? Separately?

He nodded. “It’s safer that way. And more expedient. Naturally, you’ll have outriders for your security. Mrs. Hammond, my housekeeper, will travel as your companion.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll ride ahead to warn Bram, so he’ll be expecting you.”

“Lord Rycliff? But what will you tell him?”

“The truth.” He gestured vaguely. “Some version of it. That we left Spindle Cove with plans to go to Scotland, but it didn’t work out. And that I’m asking his and Susanna’s help in salvaging your reputation. We’ll tell everyone you never traveled past London. That you fell ill that first night, and you’ve been staying with them the whole week.”

The prospect of so much deceit made Minerva’s stomach churn. “Susanna is my friend. I don’t want her to lie for me.”

“Such things are done all the time.”

Minerva knew this much was true. More than one of the young ladies she’d met in Spindle Cove had been sent there to weather a scandal or indiscretion. As the village’s erstwhile patroness, Susanna kept a great many secrets. And society at large owed her a great many favors of discretion, no doubt.

But it would be one thing to conceal this journey from public notice, and another thing to banish it from their own memories. He spoke as if they would be strangers to each other, from this point forward.

“This is what you truly want?” she asked him. “To just pretend none of this happened?”

“No matter what occurs, you will never lack for anything. Once I gain control of my accounts, I’ll quietly settle some money on you. Enough that you’ll be able to live as you desire. Set up house in any place you wish. Devote your life to your scholarship. You and your sisters will always have my protection.”

“Your
protection
? Am I to be your mistress, then?”

“God, no.”

“Oh.” She swallowed a sob. “Not even that?”

With a muttered curse, he crossed the room and sat beside her. “Minerva, I would never degrade you that way. After all the pain I’ve caused you, I wouldn’t blame you if you banished me from your sight.” He dropped his head to his hands. “Don’t make me list all the ways I’ve failed you.”

“Then I’ll list everything you’ve given me. Hot tea and blankets. A day at the fair. An apple, an orange, peaches, cherries. The chance to win twenty pounds in a shooting contest. The courage to sing in a tavern. My first honest compliments. Breathless passion, and enough adventure to last a lifetime. Just think, in this one week alone I’ve been a missionary, an assassin, a long-lost princess . . . and, we can’t forget, a sword swallower.”

“Believe me.” Looking up, he gave her a half smile. “So long as I live, I will never,
ever
forget that.”

Her heart warmed to see that flash of his familiar good nature. This was the Colin she knew and loved.

She shrugged. “After all that adventure, perhaps being a simple geologist would have come as a disappointment.”

“Don’t. Don’t lie to me, Minerva.” His hand went to her cheek. “I know how much it meant to you. You can’t tell me you’re not disappointed.”

No, she couldn’t. And she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. He held her in his arms while she had a good little cry for poor, pulverized Francine and all those smashed scientific ambitions.

After a few minutes, she wiped her eyes. “I just wanted to leave a footprint. Make my own lasting mark on this earth, the same way Francine left hers. To post a little sign that will survive for generations to come: ‘Minerva Highwood was here, and the world is just a little different for her presence.’ I just wanted to make an impression.”

“Yes, and you should have done.” He rose from the divan and strode to the hearth, where he tapped the mantel with his fist. “You would have done. Your only mistake was joining up with me.”

“That wasn’t a mistake.”

“Of course it was. Haven’t you noticed, Min? I leave impressions everywhere. Except in my case, they’re not footprints. They’re more like craters.”

With a single finger, he nudged a porcelain shepherdess toward the edge of the mantel and then—

Smash
it went on the hearthstone.

“Oh look,” he said dryly. “Colin Sandhurst was here.” He sent another figurine careening to its doom. “And here.” A third
crash
. “Here, as well.”

As the melody of destruction trailed off into silence, Minerva took a deep breath and forced herself to be calm. “Colin, do you . . .” She steeled her nerve. “Could you love me?”

He stared at her. “For God’s sake, don’t ask me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t answer you. Because no matter what I say, I’ll make a hash of it somehow. I can’t even get your plaster lizard footprint to Scotland. How could I ever be trusted with something so precious as your heart?”

Drawing a blanket about her shoulders, she pushed to her feet. She crossed the room and moved to stand at the opposite corner of the hearth.

“Colin, if you could love me . . . nothing else would matter. You’re worth so much more than a science prize of five hundred guineas.”

“Oh, do you think?” He cast a pointed glance around the magnificently furnished drawing room. “Yes, I’m worth a great deal more.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“But this was never about the money. I know how much it meant to you. You were so driven to attend that symposium. You’ve risked everything, Min. Security, reputation. Your very life. And I destroyed those dreams.”

She touched his wrist and waited until he met her gaze. “You didn’t destroy my dreams. You broke me out of my shell. There was bound to be a bit of a mess.”

He brushed a light caress against her cheek and whispered, “Min.”

She smiled and wiped a lingering tear. “Despite everything, this has been the most exciting, magical week of my life. I’m only sad that it’s ending this way.”

“I know, I know. It’s just wrong, isn’t it?” He took up the poker and stirred the fire with agitated motions. “I had this idea, you see. More of a foolish hope, I suppose. That all through this mad, tumultuous journey . . . we’d been writing the story of our future.”

She laughed a little. “Do you mean we were actually going to become missionaries in Ceylon? Or join up with a circus?”

“No, no. I don’t mean that we’d been
foretelling
our future. I meant, I hoped we’d been writing the
story
of our future. The tale we would tell and retell, over goblets of wine at dinner parties, and on dreary spring days when it’s too muddy for lawn bowls. Do you know what I mean? That it would be our story, Min. One we’d remember and laugh over for years to come, even tell some bits to our . . .” His voice trailed off as he replaced the poker in the andiron.

“To our what?” Her heart missed a beat. “To our children?” Had he been dreaming of a life with her?

“Minerva, you’re the most clever person I know. You can look at a queer-shaped hole in the ground and see a rich, vibrant ancient world. Look at me now.”

Looking him in those fiery Bristol-diamond eyes was never a trial.

“Tell me the truth,” he said. “Do you see a pleasant future with me?”

She reached for him, teasing her fingers through his hair. “Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“When I look at you, my thoughts are something like this: God only knows what trials lie down that path.” Smiling, she slipped her arms around his neck. “But take heart, Colin. Some women like to be surprised.”

He was silent for a long, breathless moment.

“Well, then,” he said darkly. He caught her up in one swift motion. “Surprise.”

Chapter Thirty

C
olin flattened her to the wall, greedily clutching her everywhere he could reach. Pressing fervent kisses to her brow, her cheek, her lips.

He needed this. Needed
her
.

Needed it
now
.

He yanked the buttons of her shift loose. Unfastening some, simply popping others from their threads. Soon the frail linen garment lay discarded at her feet.

“
Minerva.
” With a resonant sigh, he pressed the full length of his clothed body to her nakedness. Bracing his hands against the wall, he nudged her thighs apart with his knee. Bending his head, he kissed and licked her neck, all the while grinding his desperate erection against her heat.

A groan welled in his chest. “I need you, Min. Need you so much.”

“I’m here,” she breathed. Her arms draped over his shoulders. “I’m yours.”

I’m yours.
A sweet pang of emotion wrenched his heart. Still, he kept his hands braced on the wallpaper—not trusting himself to touch her yet.

He backed up a bit, wanting to see. To admire.

She reached for him. “Colin . . .”

“Wait.” His voice shook with desire. “Let me look at you.”

She fell back against the wallpaper, displaying herself for his view. He’d never dreamed a woman could be so beautiful.

She looked more luminous against this wall than a Dutch master’s painting ever could. Her flawless skin would make a porcelain shepherdess weep bitter, envious tears. And her breasts . . .

He didn’t have a decorative parallel for her breasts. But they made
him
hard as the parquet floor. Her breasts were every bit as wildly arousing as the first time he’d glimpsed them in that London inn.

He kissed his way down her elegant throat, pausing to suckle each of those luscious nipples as he sank to his knees. When his knees met the floor, he made himself comfortable there, resting on his haunches. Pressing light kisses to her navel. Nuzzling her thigh. Settling in for a nice long visit.

“God.” He nudged her legs apart and sifted through her dark curls. “I’ve been wanting this forever.”

She laughed nervously. “We’ve been traveling a week.”

“It’s been forever.” He parted her with his fingers, exploring her folds and circling his thumb over her swollen pearl. “You can’t know, Min. You can’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you.”

He pressed a single, chaste kiss to her sex. Just a prelude, so she wouldn’t be too shocked.

Then he slid one arm under her knee, hooking it over his shoulder. With his hands, he bracketed her hips, reaching toward her sex with both thumbs to spread her wide to his view. To his kiss.

She made a strangled noise. “Colin—”

“Shush.” He blew the word over her delicate flesh. “You had your chance to explore every bit of me. Now it’s my turn.”

And explore he did. Most thoroughly. He ran his tongue—just lightly—over every flushed, dewy petal of her sex. Down one side, up the other . . . until he centered on that swollen bud at the crest. Again, teasing lightly. Just lightly. Until her breath went ragged and she arched her hips, digging her heel into his back to pull him close.

Yes. That’s it. Hold me close and tight. Claim me. Make me a slave to your pleasure.

But something wicked in him wouldn’t give her what she craved. Not yet. He kept up his light, teasing attentions. Until she rocked against his mouth in an urgent rhythm, and needy whimpers eased from her throat.

“Oh, Colin. Oh, God.”

So blasphemous, but he loved being classed above the divine in her universe. Even if only for a brief, wanton second.

“Yes, darling?” he murmured, between slow, languid strokes of his tongue.

“I need . . . I need something.”

“This?” He dipped his tongue inside her.

She gasped and bucked. “More.”

Her grip twisted in his hair. Her heady taste lingered on his tongue. He needed more, too. And he couldn’t wait a moment longer.

Lowering her leg to the ground, Colin pushed to his feet and hastily stepped out of his unfastened trousers. He pulled his shirt over his head and cast it aside. Clutching her backside in both hands, he lifted her against the wall. He pinned her with a fierce gaze, determined to read her every emotion.

“Do you want me, Min?”

“Yes.”

“Need me?”

“
Yes.
” She writhed against him, wild and slick and hot.

“Love me?” His voice was so hoarse with yearning, the words got lost in his throat. He slid into her, pushing his hard length into her tight body. “Love me,” he grunted, driving the words home on a thrust. “Love. Me.”

“Yes.” She gasped with pleasure, canting her pelvis to take him deep. “Yes.”

He pumped her steadily, driving into her at just the angle he knew she craved. “Love me. Don’t ever stop. You hear me? It won’t be this good with anyone else. Only me, Min. Only me.”

“
Colin.
” She dug her nails into his shoulders and pulled herself off the wall, confronting him face to face. Her tongue made a quick, hungry swipe at his. “I love you. Stop talking.”

Fair enough.

He pressed her back against the wall. No more discussion. Only joining and clasping and thrusting. And kissing, hot and wet and deep. Only this desperate, visceral need to get closer, in every possible way.

Without warning, her body bowed and tensed. She clung to him as the crisis hit, crying out against his ear. Her intimate muscles tightened, sending pulsing waves of friction down his cock.

This time, he didn’t hold back. Couldn’t, even if he tried. He rode the crest of her pleasure, thrusting frenzied as her climax pulled him straight into his own.

When he came inside her, the sheer blinding joy of it was like nothing he’d ever known. It took him outside himself. Sent him spinning into a strange, dark place. He was lost there, for a moment, stranded in bliss. But soon, her soothing caress led him back.

She would always lead him back from the darkness.

How could she not? She held his heart.

“Minerva.” Spent and trembling, he buried his face in her neck. “I need to ask you something.”

“You do?”

“Yes. This is a very important question. One I’ve never posed to any woman before. I want you to think carefully about your answer.”

She nodded.

“After all this madness is over, and I see you safely back home . . . do you think you could see fit to . . .” He swallowed hard and lifted his gaze to hers. “To let me court you?”

Her lips fell apart. “
Court
me. You . . . you want to
court
me?”

“Yes. Very much so. More than anything.”

“Colin, you do realize you’re currently inside me.”

“I’m exquisitely aware of that, yes.”

Her fingers sifted through the hair at his temples. “Then the horse is through the gate, isn’t it? Don’t you think formal courting would be an unnecessary bother at this point?”

“Not a bother at all.” He kissed the confused twist from her lips. “And I think it’s necessary indeed. You deserve to be courted, Min. Flowers, picnics, walks in the park, and all the rest of it. And if I do say it myself, I have a suspicion I’ll be rather brilliant at courting, once I apply myself.”

“I’m very sure you will be, but—”

“The season will be in full swing soon.” He gently withdrew from her, then set her back on her toes. “I’ll convince your mother to send you to London, so I can lavish attention on you in front of the entire
ton
.”

“How on earth would we manage that, after we’ve returned unwed from this scandalous journey? Even with your cousin’s help, the gossip will be vicious.”

He tsked. “Even if there is some scandal and we’re denied vouchers at fusty old Almacks, what of it? We’ll be welcome any number of other places. Balls, opera, the theater, Vauxhall. We’ll be the talk of London.”

“Yes, I can imagine. They’ll all be wondering what that awkward little bluestocking slipped in your wine to make you go so addled.”

“No. Don’t speak that way.” He propped a finger under her chin. “I hate it when you speak ill of yourself, Min. I’d visit bodily harm on anyone who dared insult you, but I don’t know how to guard you from yourself. So kindly do me a favor, and just . . . don’t. All right?”

“All right.”

Her bottom lip trembled. He traced it fondly. “Spoiling you will bring me so much pleasure. I’ll make you feel like a queen. I’ll do everything I can to win you.”

“But Colin, don’t you realize . . .” Affection warmed her brown eyes. “There’s no need to win me. I’ve told you, I’m yours.”

He scooped her into his arms and carried her back to the fire, setting her on the carpet. Her chemise was rumpled and torn, so he retrieved his shirt and helped her into it. He fit it over her head, lifting her dark, lovely hair through the collar and arranging the locks about her face. His shirt looked well on her, the open collar offering a saucy glimpse of her unbound breasts. Her eyes shone, and a pretty blush kissed her cheeks.

God, he loved the look of her well tumbled. His heart and his loins argued he should marry her at once and keep her here, so he could start enjoying this sight every day. Every night.

But for once, he was going to let his brain make the decisions. When he acted on impulse, even his best intentions went bad. A hasty marriage, tempting as it sounded, simply wasn’t the right way.

He pulled on his discarded trousers and sat cross-legged with her, before the fire.

“You’re so young,” he began.

“I’m only five years younger than you. When my mother married, she was seventeen and my father was forty-three.”

“You’re young,” he insisted. “And this week has been tumultuous, to put it mildly. I want to give you some time, back in the normal world, to make sure of your feelings.”

“I
am
sure of my feelings.”

“You deserve to be courted. You deserve to know you have choices before you go committing your life to anyone—least of all a blighter like me. You deserve a look at Sir Alisdair Kent. He might not be so warty after all.”

She touched his face. “I love
you
, Colin. Nothing’s going to change that.”

“Dear, sweet girl.” He gathered her in his arms and held her imprudently tight.

I love you. Nothing’s going to change that.

Oh, how he wanted to take that bold, unequivocal statement and grasp it as truth. Carve it in stone, tattoo it on his flesh, spell it out in little mosaic tiles embedded in this very floor. The Gospel According to Minerva, never to be doubted. But he’d learned too much—from her, from life—and he knew well how little she’d seen of the world. His jaded soul craved assurance. At least a few months’ worth of it.

Of all people, she ought to understand the value of a scientific test.

“If what you say is true . . .” He pulled back to look her in those dark, beautiful eyes. “Then there’s no harm in waiting, is there?” He caressed her cheek, trying to coax a smile. “I’m no stranger to impulsive decisions. They don’t turn out well. When I marry you, I want everyone to know—and that includes the two of us—that it’s not a rash, impetuous whim. I want to wait until after my birthday, so there’ll be no suspicion that gaining control of my fortune had something to do with it, either.”

“After your birthday? You’re suggesting we live separately, for months?”

He nodded. “I suppose so, yes.”

“What about the nights, Colin? How do you plan to get through all those nights?” She swallowed hard. “I don’t think I could stand it if . . .”

He hushed her with a kiss. “The wedding vows must wait. But I swear to you here and now, Minerva”—he took her hand and pressed it to his heart—“so long as I live, I won’t pass a night in any other woman’s arms. I can’t pretend waiting for you will be pleasant, but I’ll muddle through. It’ll be a great deal easier to stand the darkness if you’re the warm, lovely beacon of light at the end of it.”

She looked disappointed, and he hated himself for that. But of all the things he’d ever done in his life, he needed to take care and do this right. If that meant moving at the pace of a sea snail, so be it.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “This is ideal, you’ll see. We do everything backward. It’s just how we are. We began with an elopement. After that, we made love. Next, we’ll progress to courting. When we’re old and silver-haired, perhaps we’ll finally get around to flirtation. We’ll make fond eyes at each other over our mugs of gruel. We’ll be the envy of couples half our age.”

She smiled. “Oh, Colin. If they could see me right
now
, I’d be the envy of every woman in England.”

“A few in Scotland, too. You forget, I was raised very near the border.”

He made the comment lightly, but its import sent a shiver of excitement through his bones.