Virtue and Vice (7 page)

He’d soon find out.

Reverently he bent his head and touched his tongue to one peak, reveling in her gasp and the way her body surged upwards. He laved her, using his teeth to gently scrape, then his tongue to circle round and round the taut peak and finally pulling the whole of her nipple into his mouth to suckle. He cupped her other breast, flicking the sensitized tip with his thumb.

Her soft cries of pleasure were an aphrodisiac, building his excitement to new heights. But before he gave into his desires he wanted to worship the temple of her body in all its glory.

As his mouth returned to find hers, his fingers moved with deft swiftness to the fastenings of her breeches. He nibbled at her lips as he unfastened them and received no protest. Taking that as a good sign, he slid them down her hips. Excitement leapt in his veins as he discovered she wore nothing beneath. His cock strained against his own breeches, begging to be freed, but he gritted his teeth, holding himself in check. There’d be plenty of time for his pleasure, later. 

Drifting his hand over her flat belly, he drew light circles around her navel with his fingers, delighting in the soft gasps escaping her lips. Finally, he allowed himself the luxury of running his fingers through the damp curls between her legs. The touch ignited her. She bit down on his lip and he growled, pressing her head back with the force of his kiss as he ground his palm against the juncture of her thighs. The cry that escaped her lips was so primal, urging him on.

Suddenly her hands were everywhere. She laced her fingers through his hair, tugging almost painfully, sliding them down his front and under his shirt. She pushed it up as she explored his body. He almost lost control when she flicked her fingernail against his nipple.

Little hellcat!
He’d be the one to control this encounter, her pleasure. There’d be time enough for her to take control another time, now was about his domination of
her
. He slid his hands up her arms, bringing both of her wrists together above her head, pinning them there in one of his hands. She twisted against the captivity but went still when he returned his free hand between her legs. She arched upwards as his finger stroked her slick folds, coating his finger in dewy moisture as he explored her flesh with leisure. She was so hot, so wet, and his shaft jumped, longing to take the place of his finger.

When his seeking fingers found her swollen nub she went still beneath him. He teased without mercy, pulling back from her mouth to watch her face as he traced the delicate spot, applying more and more pressure as he sped his movements, learning exactly which caresses drove her wild. Her eyes shut and her mouth parted. Her breathing became shallow and unsteady. She was reaching the precipice, ready to go over the edge with the smallest nudge.

Without stopping the circular movement, he slid his middle finger into her tight sheath and she exploded around him, crying out so loudly that birds flew from the trees. Her head thrashed from side to side as her body pulsed around him. The sheer beauty of her climax mesmerized him. The look of awe in her eyes was like that of a woman experiencing release for the first time, and he swelled with pride and gladness to be the one who’d pleasured her so. He had given her that. Her body continued to weep around his fingers as he softened his strokes until her convulsing slowed, then finally stopped. 

Releasing her hands from above her head, he pressed a kiss to her lips. She was magnificent. The moment she recovered her breath, he would slide inside her beautiful, welcoming body, and bring her an even more intense release.

***

Awe filled Izzy. Never in all her imaginings had she ever thought being made love to could feel so incredible. Her body was sated and languid; she couldn’t have lifted a limb if her life depended on it. And they’d only just begun!

Julian smiled down at her with such tenderness, his grey eyes soft, and something in her heart turned over, hard. The languorousness faded and she reached for him, sliding her arms around his neck, luxuriating in the feel of his raven hair between her fingers before pulling his head down so she could meld her mouth to his in wordless appreciation. His kiss was hot, possessive, and need flared between them all over again. He covered her with his body, supporting his weight with his arms, and she wrapped her arms around his back, feeling the muscles jump beneath her seeking hands. His hardness pressed against the juncture of her thighs, the only barrier between them the breeches he still wore.

Just as she gathered the courage to reach down and release him from the bondage of his garment, a thrashing came from the trees, along with the faint cry of “Izzy!”

That sounds like Belinda!

She gasped and struggled beneath Julian to extricate herself from his embrace, whispering, “I must dress. ‘Tis my cousin!”

A sound of frustration escaped him, but he leapt from her, grabbing her hand and lifting her to her feet. As she yanked her breeches up to her waist and fastened them, Julian snatched her white shirt from the ground and brought it over her head. She slid her arms into the sleeves. It settled around her waist just as Belinda came into view, riding her dappled mare. 

Bel drew the horse to a halt upon spotting them, her eyes widening in surprise and horror. But soon enough, she recovered her power of speech.

“Izzy Beaumont,
what
do you think you’re doing?”

Chapter 6

Ram stiffened.
Beaumont?
The new arrival advanced on them, and Izzy widened the gap between herself and him. As if even fully clothed, there was any doubt as to what they’d been doing, with her hair in disarray and a blanket laid on the ground.

She gave him a tremulous smile, whispering, “I must go, I’m so sorry.” He managed a curt nod, unable to speak over the tumultuous thoughts churning in his mind.

“Meet me on the morrow?” She asked under her breath, mirroring his words of the night before.

He nodded again and she sprinted from his side, leading the girl on the horse away from him. As they disappeared from sight he clenched his fists at his side.

Beaumont!

Izzy…most certainly was a nickname for Isabelle. Why hadn’t he realized that before? Because in his own mind he’d referred to his betrothed only as the Beaumont girl, never by her actual name. His mystery maiden was Isabelle Beaumont, his betrothed! Hadn’t he known from her speech and her mannerisms she was no peasant? How could he have not made the connection earlier?

Because he’d been thinking with his cock, instead of his brain.

Izzy was Isabelle Beaumont; the woman he already adored was to become his
wife
in only a matter of
weeks
.

His heart leapt with the knowledge she was the one. His father was right, the rumors all true. She was a great beauty. Someday she’d be a magnificent Countess.

And then the malicious truth came hard on the heels of euphoria. His betrothed was gallivanting about the countryside, dressing like a peasant and in those bloody breeches, intending to bed a perfect stranger, with nary a thought to the wedding contract she’d signed. She had no idea he was Ramsay Maitland, not Julian James. Yet she’d been moments away from giving her body to a virtual stranger.

Cold rage washed over him with such force he began to shake. She meant to cuckold him even before they were wed! She’d played him for a fool!

The nearest solid object to him was a stout tree, and he smashed his fist against it, reveling in the pain the blow brought. He should have known something like this would happen, for weren’t most highborn women hussies to their core, just like his mother?

And now he was betrothed to one no different than his dam. Nay, he would
not
end up like his father, pretending ignorance as his wife’s belly grew round with the fruit planted by another man’s seed. And if his mother and the child had survived the birth, his father would have claimed the child as his own, rather than risk scandal and dishonor. Ram would be
damned
before he allowed that to happen!

‘Twas the real reason behind his father’s distaste for the royal court and the lifestyle that accompanied it. The lax morals at St. James’s had been his wife’s downfall. The Earl had never been a true Parliamentarian or Puritan; he’d only been disgusted by the immorality and excess amongst the court of the first King Charles. Ram was no Puritan; he liked immorality and excess as much as the next man, often he engaged in both with the next man’s wife; but his own wife would be pure and demure. If that made him a hypocrite, it was too bloody bad.

Isabelle Beaumont wasn’t pure or demure. She was a slut. Marriage to her was impossible now. He had the proof he’d come for, even if he’d found it in a rather unexpected manner. Now he had the proof he’d sought, and once he’d explained all that transpired these past two days to his father, the earl would have to beg off the marriage, as promised. To the devil with the good dealings between the two families.

He mounted Mercury and let the horse have his head, knowing he’d make his way back to the manor eventually. His thoughts churned too madly to pay attention to anything more than his wrath.

How ironic, he’d spent the whole of yesterday comparing the peasant Izzy with his betrothed and finding his betrothed wanting, and they were one and the same. Except Isabelle Beaumont was still wanting, now that he knew the truth. An aristocratic maiden did
not
sneak off in disguise to enjoy the revelries of the lower classes, nor allow herself to be seduced by a stranger, nor quaff ale. And while he recognized the double-standard, since he had done as much himself, it did not ease his anger, for the rules were different where men and women were concerned. A noblewoman didn’t don breeches to go riding, for Christ’s sake, no matter that he’d found it arousing when Izzy was still a mystery maiden. And a soon-to-be viscountess under no circumstances allowed any man but her betrothed to lay her down on a blanket by a river. It was no matter he
was
her betrothed, for she hadn’t known it.

Sudden suspicion snaked through him. Perhaps it was far too great a coincidence that the woman he’d “accidentally” met on his way to Padstow was in fact his betrothed. What if Izzy did know his identity? What if she planned to seduce him, to force their marriage no matter what he discovered about her?

Either way, one thing was clear as daylight. He could never have her now. The thought struck him like a punch to the gut. For if he did take her to bed, surely she’d claim it was he who took the virginity she’d most likely given away long ago, and he’d be compelled to go through with the wedding. He’d not be tied to a cheating harlot for the rest of his days! Thank God her cousin had come searching for her.

Anxious to confront his father, return to London and reclaim his bachelor status, he set his heels to Mercury’s side.

And lamented he’d never know the heaven of release within Isabelle Beaumont’s magnificent body.

***

Belinda didn’t speak until they were back at the house, in Izzy’s chamber. As soon as the door closed, Belinda whirled on her.

“You lied to me! You blatantly lied! How could you?”

Izzy squeezed her eyes shut. There had to be some way to make Belinda see, to express how far she’d go to have the life with Paul that he’d promised. She sat on her bed and stared at her cousin, praying she could make her understand.

“I
hate
lying to you, Bel, but I had no choice! I feared you’d go to my father if you knew what I planned.”

“No other choice? You had no other choice than to offer yourself to the first man you could find and let him tumble you in the grass?”

Izzy cringed at her crude choice of language, but of course that’s how Belinda saw it. That’s exactly what Izzy had been doing with Julian when Belinda found them.

But Belinda was so wrong. He wasn’t just any man. He was Julian. Kind, sensitive, exciting, tempting, handsome Julian. Nay, he was not just
any
man.

“Did you give your virginity to that man? Were you with him yesterday as well? What will you tell your father?” The questions were fired so quickly, Izzy didn’t know which to answer first.

“Bel, I can’t give Paul up. I love him. I know you don’t understand because you’ve never been in love, but I will do
anything
to make a life with him.” She raised her hand to stop Belinda’s protest. “I cannot change the way I feel. I’m sorry. I know I’ve disappointed you.” Tears burned in her eyes. It devastated her to think Belinda now thought less of her.

Belinda sighed deeply and sat beside Izzy on the bed, stroking her hair. “I know you love Paul. I know you hate the idea of marriage to a stranger. But some things just aren’t done. And giving your virtue to a random stranger is one of those things.” 

“But what else am I to do?” Izzy heard the break in her own voice and hated that proof of her weakness.

Belinda pressed her forehead to Izzy’s, an act of both solidarity and love. “We are only women, living at the whim of men. You and I are lucky to have been granted such freedom by your father thus far, more freedom than most women experience in a lifetime. But your father needs you to do this for him now, Izzy. How can you be so selfish and not think of him, after all he has done for you?”

Now Izzy did cry, tears pouring unimpeded down her cheeks. “I don’t wish to be selfish, Bel,” she whispered on a broken sob. “But the thought of giving Paul up hurts me so. How could Papa ask this of me, when he knows how much I love Paul? ‘Tis as if my feelings matter naught to him at all. Do you know he threatened to disown me if I refused to agree to the wedding?” She remembered the pain his words had invoked, and her voice dropped to a whisper “After he’d taken the switch to me.”

“He was frustrated, Izzy. He would not have disowned you. He loves you far too much to ever do so.”

“But he doesn’t respect my feelings for Paul.”

“What if Paul doesn’t come back, Izzy?”

An image of Julian conjured in Izzy’s mind. But that way lay lunacy; Julian was not for her. She’d lose her family for certain if she ran off and married a man like Julian. Besides, she’d known him all of two days and a strong attraction to a man didn’t mean love. Love was what she shared with Paul.

“Paul isn’t the man for you, and your father knows it. I never wanted to have to tell you this, but Paul will only break your heart, Izzy. He’s a notorious libertine. Even if he does come for you he’ll never be true to you.”

Anger sizzled through Izzy- Belinda had gone too far. Even though sometimes, in the middle of the night, Izzy despaired that Paul would ever come for her, she’d not allow anyone, not even Belinda, to spread malicious rumors about him.

Her tears dried in an instant. “How dare you say something so cruel? Do you think you’ll convince me he’s unworthy so I’ll abandon my plans to evade this marriage? Because I warn you now, it won’t work! I’ll never believe such malicious gossip and can’t believe you would spread such an evil rumor!”

Belinda removed her soothing touch and stood from the bed, whipping about to face her. “Nay, Izzy.” Her voice was ice. “We are the best of friends.
I
would never lie to you, not even about something that would hurt you so much.”

“If you aren’t lying, then you’ve been misled.”

“I never wanted to have to tell you this.” Bel took a deep breath  “Paul made an advance toward me, not long before he left, and
after
he’d declared himself to you.”

Pain knifed through Izzy at the words. “’Tis not true,” she cried. “He wouldn’t do such a thing.” Words tumbled from her lips without thought. “You get so little attention from gentlemen, Bel. Paul was clearly only being kind and surely you misconstrued his intentions.”

Belinda gasped.

Too late, Izzy regretted the harsh words as her cousin’s face paled.

“I may not get as much attention as you from the gentlemen, Izzy, that’s true. But I know the difference between polite conversation and flirting that crosses a line.” Belinda’s voice was low, wavering. “You may choose to believe me or not, but I stand by my words. And I’ll try to remember you are hurting right now and speak out of pain, not a desire to be cruel.”

When Izzy saw Belinda’s lips trembling, she launched herself from the bed and threw her arms around her cousin, holding her tight. “I’m so sorry Belinda,” she gasped, “please don’t hate me. I’m so confused about everything. I don’t know what to do!”

For a moment Belinda made no response, and Izzy was terrified she’d pushed away the most important person in her life, her dearest friend and closest ally. But Belinda’s arms slowly embraced her back, the touch of her hands soft against Izzy’s hair. “It’s all right, Izzy. Everything will untangle itself, somehow. You’ll see.”

Izzy pulled back to look into Belinda’s face, and almost collapsed in relief at the renewed affection in her cousin’s eyes.

“I’ll not resign myself to this wedding, Bel. But I promise I will not lie to you again,” she exclaimed with vehemence.

Belinda sighed. “I suppose that’s the most I can hope for.” Resignation was clear in her voice. “So tell me about the gentleman from the woods. What’s his name? Has he been gentle with you, at least?”

“Oh Bel, he is so very kind and gentle. His name is Julian James. I met him on the way to Wadebridge. He rescued my cap from the river. It was all very chivalrous and romantic.”

Belinda stiffened, her face clouding over. “Julian James?”

Izzy frowned. “Aye. Do you know of him?”

Belinda’s face cleared and she shook her head. “Nay, I’m not familiar with anyone who goes by that name.”

“Well, we had the most wonderful time at the May Day festivities!”

And she told Belinda everything, leaving nothing out. She’d learned her lesson and she wouldn’t lie to her cousin again!

***

Frustration gnawed at Ram as he paced aimlessly across his father’s study. ‘Twas just his luck his sire chose this day to go to Bodmin, again. It would be hours ere he returned home, if he returned home that night at all.

Ram’s humor had not improved since his discovery of Izzy’s identity. His body remained in a state of painful arousal, which infuriated him all the more, because he didn’t want to lust for the little hussy. A trip to the village and a visit with a tavern wench would release his frustration. Did Maura still service the men of the village after all these years? He instantly rejected the idea. A dirty, worn serving woman could never compare to the sweet and tempting delights promised him by Izzy’s kisses and her touch. He’d find only physical release with Maura or any other woman of her ilk, but he’d never be sated.