Virtue and Vice (4 page)

Gritting her teeth, Izzy willed herself to be calm.

She might be an innocent, but she recognized a proposition when she heard one, and she’d be damned if she’d let this woman get her hands on Julian before she, herself, had her chance with him.

As it turned out, her concern was for naught. An expression of distaste crossed Julian’s face as he leaned around the woman to meet Izzy’s gaze. “The lady and I will each take a pasty and a mug of ale.” With a quick flick of a coin in Wanda’s direction, he dismissed her. “Be quick about it.”

Wanda scowled, but took the shilling from the table willingly enough and hurried off.

Julian turned his gaze upon Izzy and again that strange, feverish feeling crept over her skin. She fervently hoped she wasn’t becoming ill. Illness would wreak havoc on her well-laid plans.

“So, Izzy, tell me, from whence do you hail?” Julian’s smoky grey eyes were riveted upon her.

Recovering her equilibrium, she thought about his question, debating how much to reveal. “I live not far from Wadebridge.” That was honest enough.

“You live with your family then, in the village?”

“I live only with my mother.”

He seemed to relax a tiny bit at her words. Had he perhaps thought she was married? Or was he concerned she had a big, angry papa?

“Your mother did not wish to partake in the festivities?”

“I’m afraid Mama suffers from beliefs of a more puritanical persuasion.” She forced the lie through her lips. “She doesn’t know I have come.” At least that was the truth.

“Ah, I see. And how do you know your secret shall be safe with me.”

“I do not, Sir. I must rely on you to be a gentleman.” In all truth, she prayed he wouldn’t act the gentleman! She was depending on it, in fact!

“Hmm. I shall keep your secret, but I will require payment in exchange.”

“What sort of payment?”

“I’ve not decided yet, but I’ll know it at some time during the day and you will pay my price.”

He sent her a lazy wink just as Wanda returned to the table with their food and drink, and Izzy tingled at the attention he bestowed upon her. Which was ridiculous. She’d been flirted with by dukes, counts, barons, and all manner of men in between and never experienced a reaction like this! Not even Paul had ever made her hot, yet shivery at the same time.

Wanda thumped a trencher before her and Izzy concentrated on the food and drink, no longer worried the serving wench might be competition. Parched from her journey, she took a draught of ale. She wasn’t prepared for the sour taste of the stuff, as she usually drank wine or sherry. It was hard to keep from choking on the bitter brew.

Julian didn’t seem to have the same problem. He took a large swallow, and the sight of the muscles of his throat as they worked mesmerized her. With a hard swallow of her own, she turned her attention to the pasty, which in contrast to the ale, was delicious. Before she knew it, she had eaten every bite and licked her fingers clean. She’d even begun to quaff ale to wash down her food, becoming accustomed to the taste of it.

Glancing up from the empty trencher, she found Julian’s eyes locked on her, staring with what could only be described as hunger. Once again, heat rose in her face under his close scrutiny.

At a loss for words, relief coursed through her when the door to the pub opened and the sounds of merriment carried through. She craned her neck to see what was happening.

“Come.” Julian commanded, but his tone was soft. “Let’s join the fun, shall we?” He stood, holding out his hand. Without hesitation she placed her palm in his, relishing that strange jolt again as his large fingers weaved between her much smaller ones. As impossible as it seemed, she already felt safe with him as he led her to the door.

Outside, the world had erupted into chaos. Throngs of people filled the narrow streets, chanting and singing, and the crowd seemed to travel in a singular direction. Helpless to prevent being dragged along, she didn’t fight it, letting the horde of people carry her forward. Julian’s firm grip anchored her to him.

The sun was high in the sky as they passed shops and homes covered with bluebells, forget-me-nots, and cowslip in honor of the merry day, and reached their destination, the site of the Maypole. It was an enormous thing, larger than any she had ever seen. Ribbons of every color adorned the pole and children laughed and skipped around it with glee. Almost every girl wore a garland of flowers in her hair and Izzy felt out of place, wishing she too had one of the beautiful wreaths to adorn her hair. Julian noticed as well, for he gave a gentle tug on her hand and led her to a vendor selling a varied assortment of the festive accessory stacked upon a pole with thin wooden beams.

“Give me your cap,” Julian shouted above the noise of the revelers.

She yanked off her white cap with delight, shaking her head to let her hair tumble down her back. Catching Julian’s gaze, she could have sworn his eyes smoldered, but the look disappeared as he took her cap and chuckled to himself. “Which would you like?”

She chose a beautiful garland made of purple lavender and heather, entwined around the darkest of twigs. Julian handed the vendor a coin, then placed the garland on her head. Once satisfied it was secure, he ran both hands through the length of her hair. The light touch made her shiver.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against her ear, then gently tugged her back toward the maypole. 

That peculiar warmth filled her again but she had no time to think on it, as Julian took her into his arms and they began a lively country dance. Years of nothing but proper, courtly dances fell away as she found the rhythm of the music. As her feet performed the steps, it seemed as though she’d danced this way only yesterday, rather than almost a decade ago.

They flew round and round, circling the maypole in abandon with the other revelers. She felt like a princess in a fairy tale, being wooed by her very own prince. Excitement filled her. Everything that should have been forbidden to her —the dancing, the singing, the drinking, and most of all, the soul-deep desire to be in the arms of this man, a perfect stranger— intoxicated instead.

They danced and sang for what seemed hours, stopping only every while for Julian to fetch a mug of ale, which they shared to quench their thirst. Around them people sang refrains of the May Day Song,

“With the merry ring, adieu the merry spring,
For summer is acome unto day,

How happy is the little bird that merrily doth sing
In the merry morning of May.”

The singing stopped when the prettiest young maids from the town lined up as if on cue. Fascinated, Izzy turned to watch the ceremony, leaning back against Julian’s chest for support. His arms came around her waist, pulling her tighter to him then leaned his chin on her shoulder. Even in this large group of people who stood with them, Julian’s embrace was so intimate it was as if they were the only two people who existed in that place, in that moment.

The crowd roared its agreement as a lovely maiden was chosen May Queen and they hefted her into a flower-bedecked chair to be paraded about. The girl chosen was young, but pretty, and Izzy clapped her approval along with the rest of the crowd.

The sound of drums filled the air. Izzy twisted her head and saw a procession making its way down the street at a slow pace. Soon a costumed creature came into sight, the likes of which Izzy had never seen before. It resembled a horse of sorts, yet it was draped in a black cape and wore a hideous mask. It moved in rhythm to the drums in a bizarre sort of dance. A young man dressed in gay colors danced around the thing, poking it occasionally with a stick. Izzy tilted her head back against Julian’s shoulder and met his gaze, confounded.

He bent his head so his lips were near her ear. “’Tis the ‘Obby ‘Oss!”

A feminine squeal drew her attention from Julian and she looked in time to see the ‘Obby ‘Oss dance its way toward a young woman. Delighted, Izzy watched as the girl laughed and evaded its clutches, though the next woman was not so lucky. The creature drew it’s victim beneath the cape and gyrated as the crowd looked on and cheered.

As it made its way closer, the beat of the drums filled Izzy, enflaming her, and she began to move in time with the sound. So engrossed in the music, she didn’t notice the ‘Obby ‘Oss until it was almost atop her. Just as she was about to be enfolded under the black cape, strong hands grabbed her, lifting her away.

Julian set her down with her back against a building, a wide grin upon his face. “’Tis said if you are caught beneath the black cape you’ll fall pregnant within the year.”

His words immediately led her thoughts down the path of sin; thoughts no virtuous maiden ought to have. But wasn’t sin the exact reason she’d come here today? Julian’s sensual lips transfixed her at the reminder. He sobered as if he realized the direction her thoughts had taken. Suddenly his eyes blazed and his nostrils flared.

“I’ll take my payment now,” He growled.

In the next moment, he pinned her against the wall of a building with his hard body, while his lips molded to hers. His kiss stole every thought, until Izzy had no recollection of what payment he spoke of.

His scent and taste filled every sense and Izzy felt so alive, so emboldened. Her heart matched the rhythm of the pounding drums and she dared not hold back. As his mouth swept over hers, Izzy relinquished control. Her arms went about his neck; she buried her fingers into his thick mane and returned the kiss with everything she had.

His mouth consumed and demanded. His teeth nibbled at her lips and then his tongue forced her mouth to part and swept inside, capturing her gasp of pleasure at the bold intrusion. His body pressed against her, all hard angles and flat planes, and she melted into him.

She’d been kissed before, but nothing on Earth could have prepared her for
this!

She was on fire.

Chapter 3

Ram was on fire.

Need exploded through him as she responded to his scorching kiss, answering the demands of his hungry mouth as fervently as he made them. Her lips were sweetness and sin, a simultaneous essence of innocence and ale. The taste of her drove him wild, sent the blood flowing from every part of his body straight to his loins as he pressed her harder against the wall, settling his knee between her thighs.

His hands tangled in her hair as he cradled her head, knocking the garland flying to the ground. His mouth trailed from her lips down the slender column of her throat, licking at the vein there that pulsed with the force of her desire. She gasped, and the breathy, mewling sound arrowed straight into him. His cock jumped against her soft belly. He ground his hips against hers.

Her hands moved down his back, pulling him closer. Returning to her mouth, his tongue dueled with hers. He’d never get enough of this woman. Sliding his hands down her side, then back up again, he cupped a breast in each palm while he raised the leg between hers so she could ride his thigh. She gasped again but made no protest, and he began to knead her breasts through her thin blouse. Their lush firmness filled his hands to perfection, as though her body had been made for him. He squeezed her nipples gently, rolling them between the forefinger and thumb of each hand as his mouth suckled on her lower lip. She moaned aloud against his ear, writhing under his touch, hips arching as she pleasured herself against him. The need to bury himself deep inside her luscious little body drove him wild.

He froze. What was he doing? He was not an untried youth who couldn’t keep from taking a woman up against a wall! He tore his hands and mouth from her, leaning his forehead against the cold stone of the building, hearing the raw sound of his own panting mixed with hers.

Lifting his head, he stared down at the girl in his arms. This slip of femininity threatened to unman him, right there on the street, practically in plain view of what could only be described as a mob of revelers. Surely he hadn’t been so out of control since he’d had his first woman.

She breathed heavily, her chest heaving with exertion. With extreme difficulty, he tore his gaze from those perfect breasts, trying not to linger on the sight of her impudent nipples straining against the fabric of her gown. He forced himself to meet her gaze. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, still caught in the heat of the moment. If he didn’t regain control, he was going to take her against the building, revelers be damned.

He stroked a finger down her cheek and her lips parted with obvious surprise. Well, he’d had quite the shock himself.

Had he ever responded to a woman so powerfully? He doubted it.

Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. The simple motion speared him with desire all over again.

“Shall we get some refreshments?” The hoarseness of his own voice startled him. He needed something, anything, to distract him from how delectable she looked standing there, her hair disheveled, her lips plump and moist from his kisses, begging for more. She looked wanton and adorable and beautiful as hell. He wanted her exactly like this beneath him, in his bed.

How much more of the festivities would she want to see? They didn’t officially end until midnight, but if they left now he could find a comfortable inn in Wadebridge and hole up with her for the evening. Finding a room here in Padstow so late would be difficult, if not utterly impossible.

It didn’t matter. He only needed to find a private room with a bed, and he needed to find it soon.

She seemed to shake herself out of the kiss-induced stupor, and threw a tremulous smile in his direction. “I should very much like a drink.”

With a curt nod he took her hand, then led her into the street and back amidst the throng. He found a vendor and bought another tankard of ale, which she shyly accepted. Her hand trembled as she took the mug. 

That kiss had left him parched as well, so he purchased another. Just as he was about to ask if she was amenable to leaving for Wadebridge now, her attention was caught again by the festivities. She seemed entranced as a man on stilts went by while juggling. Ram sighed. ‘Twas obvious she still very much wanted to partake of the celebrations. He would have to keep control over his lust a while longer.

They soon found themselves back at the village green, where dancers still moved to the beat of the music. Archery competitions had been set up and he stood beside her to watch the men show off their skills with the bow.

As the sky began to darken, the festivities started to wind down. Exhausted children fell asleep on their feet and parents hurried to get them home to their beds. Ram and Izzy took a quick meal, but not wanting to miss the last of the entertainment, they drank more than they ate. He grabbed her hand, hurrying to catch the culmination of the day, when the ‘Obby ‘Oss was put back into his stable at the
Golden Lion
, to await next year’s celebration.

Finally, after what seemed like forever to Ram, they made their way to the inn where the day had started, to retrieve Mercury. Ram walked beside Izzy, hurrying to catch her as she stumbled. When she looked up into his eyes with a wide smile, comprehension dawned. She was foxed!

Damn! He’d plied her with drink for refreshment sake, and, if he were totally honest with himself, perhaps to lower her inhibitions a bit as well. He’d not meant to make her bosky!

He stopped and put his hand beneath her chin, lifting her face to his. “Izzy, sweetheart, are you well?”

“Aye, Julian.” She bestowed a big, toothy smile upon him. “I’ve had the most wonderful day!”

“Have you had too much ale?”

She scrunched her face adorably in thought as she considered the question. “I’m not at all sure. I’m not accustomed to drinking ale, you see. I didn’t even like it this morn, but it’s grown on me. I
do
feel rather strange, now that I think upon it.”

He groaned low. She’d been drinking at a steady pace all day. Plans for a night spent romping beneath the bed sheets fast dwindled away.

“Come, let’s get you home.” He sighed with resignation. He might be a libertine of the highest order, but he did not debauch women when they were too inebriated to participate in their debauchment.

After reclaiming Mercury, he helped her into the saddle, then hoisted himself behind her. She wriggled as she tried to get comfortable, an action that left him distinctly uncomfortable. He was glad when she settled down as he guided the horse from the coast towards Wadebridge.

She was asleep within minutes, leaning against his chest, trusting him in a way that pulled at his heartstrings. He tightened his arms about her to hold her steady as they journeyed on. Sitting behind her, he inhaled her delicate scent. She smelled of sunshine and festivity. She was springtime in his arms. It had been a long time since he’d known such contentment with a woman. Perhaps he’d actually never been more content with any woman.

I could make her my mistress.

Ram sat straighter as he considered the idea. He hadn’t even bedded her yet. Still, could there be any real doubt as to their compatibility in the bedchamber, given their mutual physical attraction and the way they burned when they touched?

He was about to be saddled with a wife he didn’t want. A woman all but guaranteed to be shallow, vain, and insipid. No doubt she’d wish to remain in London, at Charles’s court, where Ram had no desire to live. He’d never intended to even pay lip service to his wedding vows and doubted very much his betrothed intended so either. Court life was rife with indiscretion and licentious behavior. Ram had intended to keep his current mistress, Louisa, after his wedding, but her appeal had waned of late, and compared to Izzy, Louisa didn’t hold a candle. As no man wanted to handle more than one mistress at a time, the choice was an easy one. If Izzy was amenable, he’d end his relationship with Louisa in a trice. Cornwall could become his escape, Izzy’s arms his haven.

Resting his chin atop her head, he smiled. He’d enjoy showering her with luxuries, watching her enjoy the best his money could buy- things she’d probably never dreamed of having.

Of course, he mustn’t rush her or he chanced scaring her off. He also needed to mull over the idea of making her his mistress when he himself wasn’t half-flown with ale and aroused to the point of madness. Initially he’d intended to be in Cornwall only long enough to sneak a peek at his bride-to-be, but now his plans changed. He’d stay for a time.

Ram reluctantly awoke her when they reached their destination since he didn’t know where she lived. She peered up at him with groggy eyes as she tried to clear her head, looking around as if surprised to find herself back in Wadebridge so soon. Disappointment flitted across her unguarded features and he allowed himself to savor her flattering reaction. She was as sorry to leave his company as he was to let her go.

“Where is your home?” He asked low.

She shook her head with vehemence. “N-nay. Mama mustn’t see me come home with you. Please, I don’t live far; I’ll be all right to walk the rest of the way.”

He frowned, not liking the idea of leaving her alone in the dead of night. If she were a lady there was nothing that would keep him from taking her to her very door. But she wasn’t a lady, and likely quite used to taking care of herself, and so he’d abide by her wishes.

Loath to let her go, he entreated her, “Meet me on the morrow?”

She studied him for a moment, head cocked to the side. Then she nodded and her lips turned up in a smile. He released a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding.

“Where?” she asked.

“At the riverbank, where we met this morn?”

“I’ll be there at noon!” She started to turn away, but he grabbed a hold of her arm, pulling her back into his embrace. He lowered his head and brushed his mouth over hers.

“Until tomorrow.”

Her breath hitched in her throat and she smiled again. “Tomorrow.” And then she hurried away from him, toward a street enshrouded in darkness. 

Ram stared after her in a rare moment of uncertainty. Perhaps he should follow from a discreet distance. Make certain she would be safe. But even though it was one of the busiest nights of the year, the streets were quiet and no one seemed to be about. Anyone with a lick of sense was taking advantage of the festival; cozying up with their lovers in bedrooms, barns, fields— even under the bushes. That old childhood ditty flashed through his mind; ‘Hooray, hooray, the first of May! Outdoor fucking starts today!’ Well, for everyone else, apparently. Letting his head fall back, Ram laughed at himself and the situation. When his mirth had run its course, Izzy was lost from sight.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the white cap she’d lost that morning and brought it to his nose, inhaling her delicate scent. Faintly aroused once more, he warmed himself instead with thoughts of what he would do with her on the morrow, and turned Mercury towards his father’s stable.

***

Izzy strode down the cobbled street, panicked. She’d never intended to stay out so late. And now Julian had dropped her off in Wadebridge, and she still had over a mile to tread to reach her home. Had she been missed yet?

She scurried towards a building that cast a looming shadow and, safely out of sight, turned to see whether Julian would follow or not. He stared in her direction for a moment and she could swear she heard laughter, but then he turned Mercury around and trotted off. She breathed a sigh of relief.

When he was no longer visible, she reversed direction and hurried out of the village. The journey ahead seemed immense, but certainly that was due to the pounding in her head. Damn and blast! She never should have drank so much ale. Her overindulgence had cost her what she most desired and what she’d set out this day to achieve.

Even with an aching head and a mouth that tasted as if she’d sucked on a woolen sock, she shivered with excitement at the memory of her stolen moments with Julian. She’d had the most enjoyable day of her life, and she intended to thank him for it on the morrow, in a
very
improper manner. Despite the liberties he’d taken with her, he’d remained a gentleman for the most part. But it was not a gentleman she needed now. She’d seen the signs. Beneath the courteous exterior, Julian was all virile male. Just thinking about the kisses they’d shared was enough to set her pulse hammering in her veins.

Had she not indulged in so many tankards of ale, she’d no doubt be in his arms right now. When he’d woken her when they’d arrived in Wadebridge, the disappointment was so keen it had snatched her breath.

But none of that mattered now. He wanted to see her again! She hugged herself in happiness and relief.

She sped her pace, chewing her lip as she rehashed the argument she’d had with her cousin last week. Had Belinda correctly guessed the reason behind her disappearance today and ratted her out? Belinda was her second cousin through her mother’s aunt, and her closest friend in the world; they’d been raised together like sisters. But Bel had always been more straight-laced and less willing to step outside proper boundaries.

Belinda thought Izzy should cease fighting her family and accept her fate. And though Izzy had always believed the choice of husband would be hers to make, she’d intended to do just that and abide by her word…until the day the betrothal agreement had been signed. Her future husband couldn’t even be bothered to come in person to put his name to the paper. Unable to tear himself away from his revelries in London, the Viscount had sent his solicitor as proxy to sign in his place. Given away for coin and land by her father, yet unwanted by her future husband, Izzy had become nothing more than an afterthought.