Virtue and Vice (3 page)

He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Alas, today I am but a simple man, on a mission to save unsuspecting maids from all manner of trouble. And since I so bravely saved your life, I now have the responsibility of you.

She laughed. “You saved my
cap
, Sir!”

“Well yes, but had I not wandered along, you might have gone after it yourself and become swept up in the current and drowned.”

Casting a wry grin at the shallow, slow moving water, she raised an eyebrow to make her point, then glanced back at him.

He gave another long-suffering sigh. “How could I know whether or not you swim? Nay, there’s no help for it, I’m afraid. I am responsible for your well-being for the rest of this day at least, madam.”

He tucked an errant strand of her hair back under the cap and she went still at such a familiar gesture. A frisson of heat passed from his body into hers at his touch. She started, the banter forgotten, and he sobered, taking a step back.

He leaned against his horse and contemplated her for a long moment. When he spoke again his voice was much subdued. “If you were going to the May Day celebrations I would now be honor bound to give you escort.”

“As a matter of fact, I’m on my way to Wadebridge for that very purpose, but my cap decided it ought to go for a swim.”

He smiled. “You don’t wish to go a bit further to Padstow, instead?  ’Tis a much more exuberant affair.”

She’d heard about the famous celebrations that took place each year in the small harbor town. Aside from the regular May Day revelry, the folks of Padstow engaged in the ‘Obby ‘Oss festival, a sight she’d never been privy too, but one she’d always had a keen interest in. “I fear Padstow is too far to travel by foot.”

His wicked grin returned and he waggled raven eyebrows at her in a suggestive manner. “Then it’s a good thing I wandered upon you when I did. I daresay my mount could handle the extra weight should you wish escort to Padstow.”

It went against everything she’d ever been taught, to be so familiar with a man, and a stranger at that. But dear God, he intrigued her so very much! And she was on an important mission. It was conceivable she could use this chance meeting to her advantage. This man
was
very handsome; perhaps she might seduce him into doing what needed to be done. What she’d planned specifically to do this day if she could but keep her nerve.

She would keep her nerve. She
must.

Her sense of humor rose to the fore. How appropriate might it be if she played the sacrificial lamb to this wolf? Besides, recognition was far less likely in Padstow than in Wadebridge.

Instead of answering, she offered her hand. He hoisted her onto his horse and leapt up behind her, his arms reaching around her to take the reins. Of course, he wouldn’t place her on the horse as if she were riding side saddle; he thought her a servant, never a lady. It was thrilling to sit astride a horse, even if she did have to hike her skirts to her knees to do so, but that was exciting and titillating too. As she adjusted them as best she could over her legs, she was keenly aware of the hardness of his chest pressed against her back, the feel of his arms against her sides, and the heat that seemed to leap from his body to hers. She shivered.

“Are you chilled?” His voice was almost a whisper, his mouth hovering just over the sensitive skin of her ear.

She shook her head. “Only excited. I’ve never been to Padstow before.”

“You’ll have a most pleasurable time,” his voice dropped, taking on a husky quality. “I guarantee it.

Chapter 2

Ram couldn’t be more pleased. He was about to partake in celebrations he hadn’t experienced since his youth. A day filled with mindless revelries, good food, and delicious drink awaited. A chance to leave the worries of impending nuptials and other duties behind for a time. And most of all, he had a beautiful and willing woman sitting practically in his lap as he rode.

Content to let Mercury meander along the path, he concentrated on the bundle of femininity in his arms. The delicate scent of lavender wafted from the few strands of hair dangling from her cap. It teased his senses, keeping him in a constant state of semi-arousal. With her buttocks pressed so close, could she feel his loins thickening through her skirts? A smile pulled at his lips. Later this evening, he’d take an entirely different kind of ride.

Shifting the reins, he let his arm brush the side of her breast. She started slightly but didn’t pull away. He was glad she faced away from him and couldn’t see the grin that split his face. Oh aye, he’d ride well tonight.

Touching his lips to her ear, he whispered, “’Tis not often I rescue a damsel in distress. Does my damsel have a name?”

She twisted her head around to look at him, chewing her lip, and he had the feeling she was trying to hide a grin.

“My name is Izzy.”

“A unique name. May I be so familiar as to call you Izzy?”

Now she did smile. “You may, good sir.” She shifted around further to look him fully in the face, her backside rubbing against his groin as she did so. He stifled a groan.             

“And by what name should I call you?”

Randy? Lascivious? Lover?
He clamped down his unruly thoughts. “My name is Julian. Julian James.”

The alias wasn’t a lie, exactly, he’d just left off both his given and surname. He’d used the name in the past, but for more clandestine and official matters, not flings and romps. But “Julian James” fit the plain trappings and simple guise he currently wore far better than Ramsay Maitland, Viscount Royston.

“Julian.” She tested his name, and he found the sight of her full lips as they curved into a smile almost too much to resist. But he would resist. The signs made him fairly sure she’d be amenable to his love play by the end of this day, but he wouldn’t risk scaring her off early by importuning her too quickly. Nay, he’d ply her with a bit of ale and good food before he laid his cloak on the ground for them.

They continued down the path in a comfortable silence, and gradually she began to settle against him so his chest bore her weight. Her warmth seeped through his thin shirt, and the feel of her, so soft and curvy, left him relaxed and comfortable. Content. As she looked about taking in the surroundings, he took the opportunity to study her more closely.

She was feminine and alluring, a true beauty. Though she exhibited excitement over the journey, there was serenity and confidence etched into those delicate features. She held herself like a woman who knew her place in the world and was comfortable in her own skin, yet her petite stature lent her an air of fragility. If he was a betting man, he’d lay odds on her being a member of the landed gentry, yet her coarse homespun clothing spoke of humble means. An intriguing mix, but one he intended to get to the bottom of. He ever did enjoy a good mystery.

He couldn’t help but compare her to the image he’d formed of his betrothed. All he knew of
her
was that she was a spoiled courtier who’d spent the last decade in exile with the King and his court. She’d probably scoff at the idea of mingling with the commoners for a day of festivity, let alone wear the garb of one!

Cease!
There would be plenty of time to think about his upcoming nuptials tomorrow. Today was about his pleasure. And the pleasure of the woman he held in his arms.

The scent of the sea assailed his nostrils; they approached Padstow. ‘Twas a shame, really, he wasn’t quite ready to relinquish her from his lap and his arms. 

As flat verdant land gave way to the beginnings of city streets, the road became congested with other revelers as they crept closer to town. The woodsy smells of the outdoors became overpowered by the scents of cooking fires and roasting food.

“Look at the decorations!” Izzy breathed as she took in the sights about them on the High Street in wonder, bending forward in an attempt to get a better view. The sight of her backside pressed to his groin as she leaned over the front of the horse brought all sorts of wicked images to his mind.

What is the matter with me?
He was reacting as though he was some untried youth about to have his first taste of a woman. Disgusted, he struggled to rein in his lust.

The buildings along the High Street were all gaily decorated with ribbons and banners, flags, and greenery of all sorts. Many of the regular market stalls were closed for the day; those vendors with wares to appeal to the revelers hawked items in the street. Residents and visitors alike were already in full fledged celebration mode, most of them having greeted the day as tradition dictated, at midnight on May Eve. Izzy twisted to and fro in the saddle, every movement exquisite torture as she rubbed against his nether parts, which swelled and throbbed with each bit of contact.

By the time Ram chose an inn at which to stable Mercury, he was almost grateful to escape his seat of torment. Leaping down from the great horse, he reached for Izzy and plucked her from the saddle, holding her high in the air with his hands at her waist. Instead of setting her to the ground, he pulled her close and let her slid down his body in a slow, sensuous motion. For a moment she hung suspended against him. Through the plain fabric of the shirt he wore, the hardened peaks of her breasts bored into the flat planes of his chest. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed an ‘o’, but she didn’t protest when he finally placed her gently on her feet. He bit back a grin. Without words he’d just made a promise to her of what was to come before the day was through, and by not pushing him away, she’d acquiesced.

Not only had she not offered even a token protest, now she leaned against him. He appreciated a woman who didn’t play games, who didn’t beckon him closer with one hand while keeping him at a distance with the other.

An urge to kiss her so overwhelmed him, he didn’t resist it. Bending his head toward her, he brushed his lips across hers once, then again, before retreating a step back. If he didn’t take control of himself, he’d have her upstairs in a room with her skirts thrown over her head before she could even voice a protest, and they’d miss the May Day merriment. For himself, well, he wouldn’t mind so much, but she seemed so excited by the prospect of the celebrations he couldn’t take that away from her. 

“Come,” he murmured, “let’s find some refreshment and then we’ll join the revelry.”

He tossed a shilling at a stable lad and left Mercury in his care, then led Izzy around the building to the entrance of the inn.

***

Izzy whirled from the gentle kiss. This man took such liberties, and they’d only just met! But then, didn’t that make him the perfect man for what she planned? She’d been kissed before, of course, but even Paul had not been so bold as to do so without first asking permission.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. There was no way she would let her marital dilemma interfere with this day. If she came to that bridge she’d cross it, but for now she would enjoy herself. An entire day of freedom stretched before her in this strange new town with an exciting man at her side. A day without chaperones and companions to keep her in line and curtail her enthusiasm. She could hardly wait!

She followed Julian to the door of the inn, noting his impeccable manners as he held it open for her to precede him inside. Delicious smells wafted around her as she stepped within the old timber framed building with its charming low ceilings and distinctive medieval feel. Though the weather was on the warmer side, a cheerful fire burned in the hearth, chasing away any lingering early morning chill. The scent of roasting capons and freshly baked bread assailed her senses. Her stomach rumbled in response, a reminder of how fast she’d fled her home this morning lest she be caught by her cousin Belinda on the way out.

The inn was crowded. Mixed with the tantalizing aroma of food was the smell of unwashed humanity arising from the close press of bodies as they celebrated. Wrinkling her nose, she drank it all in with fascination. Julian took the lead, shouldering his way through the throng of people until he found an empty table. Holding out a rickety wooden chair, he waited until she was settled before seating himself across from her.

A plump serving wench ambled over to the table. Though dressed in a manner similar to Izzy, the woman weighed at least two stone more, and her blouse was much snugger, forcing her ample bosom to overflow the fabric. Her pretty, rounded face and cornflower blue eyes lit with licentious interest as she took Julian’s measure. With a saucy wink the barmaid settled a hip against the table, then leaned toward Julian, impeding Izzy’s view of him

The urge to grab the wench’s lanky yellow hair and tear her away from Julian consumed Izzy. She clenched her fists beneath the table instead, confused by the unusual urge. Good Lord, she’d kept Paul’s attention from even the most experienced and beautiful of courtesans, surely she wasn’t insecure over the crude charms of a serving wench who looked like a dairy maid?

“Me name’s Wanda. Wot’s yer pleasure, handsome?” The wench leaned even closer. In another instant she’d be in his lap! There was no doubt Julian was getting an eyeful of her bountiful cleavage. “I can serve any need ye have.”