Any Wicked Thing Read online

Chapter 18

  When will it ever end?

  —FROM THE DIARY OF FREDERICA WELLS

  The nerve of him! She could barely walk as it was. Would he never relent in his wicked seduction? She wished he were still in an African prison, giant beetles crawling into his every orifice. Certainly up his arse.

  Phillip Goddard, her late guardian, had never said one word about Sebastian’s employment in Egypt, if he ever knew of it. Sebastian was an extremely poor correspondent—even before the estrangement it had been too burdensome for him to write letters. Sometimes years would go by without Uncle Phillip ever receiving anything in his son’s handwriting, and then they were the barest bones. He never asked for money, which was a lucky thing, because there wasn’t any. Uncle Phillip had outspent himself on his collections, and several investments had failed rather spectacularly. But he wouldn’t hear of dipping into Freddie’s trust.

  She had inherited bits and pieces from her family. They had not been rich or elevated high in society, but were respectable enough. Unlike his own luck with money, Uncle Phillip had managed to invest hers with better results. And he turned over every penny of royalties to her from the books. His guilt money. She knew he regretted all those things he said that night about her. And what he’d done, telling Sebastian she’d been paid off not to make a fuss.

  It might have softened the old duke’s opinion to know that Sebastian was off on a dig, although probably not. Henry Kipp was not the sort of man whom proper scholars respected. He was a thief and worse. In any event, Uncle Phillip had no interest in any historical time period save the Middle Ages.

  Frederica set the remains of their picnic down on the kitchen worktable, avoiding Mrs. Holloway’s eyes. “Thank you for the lunch. It was delicious.”

  “I don’t reckon his lordship liked the wine, though.”

  Freddie bit a lip. It had been very bad of her to put the most sour of the old duke’s bottles in the basket. “One should not be drinking so early in the day,” she said, falsely virtuous. This at least was one form of corruption she could resist. She knew all too well what happened to her when she drank. She became brazen enough to seduce handsome young marquesses in tumbledown towers. “His Grace wishes to take a walk and examine the property. We shall be gone for some time.”

  “Very well, Miss Frederica. You two enjoy yourselves.”

  Freddie pulled an old moth-eaten cloak off a hook. “Just in case the wind comes up. You know how undependable the weather can be.”

  “Mm-hmm. And don’t forget to pick up your bonnet. You don’t want to give those freckles any more encouragement.”

  Lord, Sebastian had been right. The whole household was probably watching them as they ate. They’d seen Sebastian toss her hat aside and give her those wicked, smoldering looks. At least he hadn’t kissed her, even though much of the time he seemed focused on her mouth.

  “Will you be dining with the duke tonight, my dear? I’m roasting a joint.”

  Oh, yes. Sebastian would probably insist on her presence, all the better to stare down the long table at her, undressing her with his eyes.

  “That sounds delicious, Mrs. Holloway. I look forward to it. Tell Warren to set two places tonight, but tomorrow, the duke will definitely be dining alone.”

  Happy to exert her authority in this one small thing, she returned to the serpent in the lady’s garden. She bent to pick up her hat, knowing that Sebastian was inspecting her muslin-covered bottom.

  “I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”

  Sebastian quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing, simply extended his arm. With the utmost reluctance, she took it, and they passed through the garden gate.

  The grassy track was uneven, as was her heartbeat. Forced to cling to Sebastian’s arm so she wouldn’t lose her footing, Frederica climbed up the rise to the highest point on Roxbury land. Odd that Goddard Castle wasn’t on it for defensive purposes. It loomed behind them, a picturesque ruin that would soon be hers. The rolling hills and moors framed it, the variegated colors of green and gold and gray deceptively bucolic. There wasn’t anything else to be seen for miles save sky and earth and crumbling castle.

  She planned to hire masons who could repair what was repairable. The rest she would have torn down. She didn’t plan to spend her old age worrying about collapsing walls and crushing debt. She would limit the amount of money she invested. As it was, her expenditures were sure to alter her future. No longer was she absolutely sure she could live comfortably for decades with a hired companion. She and Sebastian had not agreed on a price as yet, but she wouldn’t let him steal her blind. Bad enough he’d stolen her senses.

  He had taken the black cloak from her and twirled it now and again, like some villain in a bad melodrama. He’d made her unfasten her bonnet ribbons, so the hat bounced on her back with every step she took. Frederica’s hair was loosening from its pins, and her cheeks were warm from keeping up with Sebastian’s brisk pace. His strides were ever so much longer than hers and she had lost her breath a mile back, which suited her. If she could talk, she’d only be wasting her words on Sebastian. He had a singular purpose in mind and was not about to be deterred.

  How fortunate they’d encountered no one, not even a stray sheep, on this excursion. Frederica prayed that their luck would continue. The thought of being found in flagrante delicto under the Yorkshire sky was too mortifying. Sebastian would go back to Budapest or Egypt, but she would be stuck here for the rest of her life with a ruined reputation.

  What must it be like to travel the world? She envied Sebastian a little, although she didn’t yearn to be imprisoned. She’d known only two homes—Roxbury Park and Goddard Castle. She’d come to the Dorset estate with her father when she was just a baby. When her father and Uncle Phillip traveled, she’d been left safe at the park, the pet of Warren and the other staff. After her father died, Uncle Phillip had traveled alone in his quest for medieval grails and she remained at Goddard Castle, doing research and organizing the duke’s notes. She’d had no debut, of course—she was not from a high ton family, and her virginity was definitively disposed of. She’d given it to Sebastian, tossing it away as heedlessly as he’d tossed her bonnet in the lady’s garden.

  Uncle Phillip never spoke of that night directly, but she knew he was filled with deep regret. His pride had proven his downfall. His superbia. He had been a distractedly affectionate second father to her, but she’d had no idea he thought her so very unfit for his precious only son. His words had been ruthless, hurting her father far more than they hurt her. She knew Uncle Phillip had changed his mind over the years, in hopes that Sebastian would come back. But it was too late to soften the blow to Joseph Wells—he’d died of a broken heart.

  But she had her money. And now she had a month of such sexual splendor that it terrified her.

  Sebastian stopped at last, surveying the vista. The moorland stretched out below, broken here and there by crumbling limestone walls and stunted trees. With a flourish, he spread the cloak on the ground and pulled her down beside him.

  “Tolerable view,” he said, looking at her rather than the distant castle. His hand clasped hers, his thumb idly circling in her palm. Even this light touch felt wicked. She tried to ignore it and him, gazing out at the spring green grass and sedges.

  “It is pretty. I don’t come up here often enough.”

  “You’ve got your nose buried too deep in books.”

  She sniffed with it. “I have an obligation to your father’s publisher to complete the set. I’m lucky he agreed to let me continue.”

  “Why bother? Your name isn’t even on them.”

  Nor was she mentioned in a dedication or appreciation—that went to her father—but the work was more important than the recognition. And Phillip Goddard had put every penny of his royalties into a trust for her, when he could have used the money himself. Schools used the texts, and libraries throughout Europe—and even America—stocked the series. It had netted quite a bit, and was the source of all her
riches. “I do it to honor the memory of Uncle Phillip. And my father, too. They spent their lives gathering information and artifacts.”

  Sebastian gave a disgusted snort. “They were mad, the both of them. And I don’t mean because they fucked each other.”

  She flinched. “You know as well as I do they were in love, Sebastian. You heard them.”

  He said nothing. The subject was obviously still too raw for him, so she switched tacks. “You should at least understand their interest in history after you yourself went on archaeological searches.”

  “To sell things, not buy them, Freddie. That’s a big difference.”

  “Well, at least you’ll get the proceeds when I complete the last volume of Roxbury’s Middle Ages. The publisher will honor the contract settlement to your father’s devisal.”

  He stopped teasing her hand, dropping it into her lap. “I’m to be paid for your work? That’s preposterous! Even a devil such as I has some integrity. I’ll not touch a penny of it.” Sebastian’s face had darkened in anger. If he wasn’t really upset at the prospect of ill-gotten gains, he gave a very good performance, now the hero of the melodrama rather than the villain.

  “But I thought you needed money.”

  “I do, but I’ve got some standards. I won’t harness a woman to my plow.” He ripped up a tuft of grass, scattering it in the breeze.

  “But you’d marry an heiress, wouldn’t you? What’s the difference?”

  His face was truly an alarming color now. “I’m not marrying an heiress! I’m not marrying anyone! Damn it, Freddie, I may be ramshackle, but not even in the same league with my father. He enslaved you in his project and bankrupted the duchy. The man deserves to roast in hell for what he’s done to the both of us.”

  “I assure you I was perfectly willing to help him. There was no enslavement. He hired me in my father’s stead. It is you who relishes being my master.”

  “That’s completely different.”

  “How so? You tie me. You—you tell me to do shocking things.”

  “And you do them. And enjoy them.”

  That was only too true. For a woman who’d considered herself independent for as long as she could remember, she was shamefully drawn in to Sebastian’s sensual sport.

  “What if I said no? Would you force me?” She searched his face for a trace of cruelty.

  Sebastian caught a strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear, looking at her as earnestly as she looked at him. “You misunderstand all of this, Freddie. It’s not a question of me having all the power. Forcing you. I could not do what I do to you without you wanting it. You need to remember that when it comes to your days. There’s no pleasure in humiliation. Or housework. This is all about pleasure, Freddie. Living your fantasies. Don’t lose sight of that in your attempts to one-up me.”

  Frederica swallowed. “I’m not used to such pleasures.”

  “I know. The corruption of innocents is always a favorite fantasy of mine. Although you’re not precisely innocent, are you? How are things going in the dairy barn, little milkmaid?”

  She batted him away. “Are you never serious? Everything is a game to you.” She would not try to make excuses. She had been every bit the deceiver he thought she was, foolish enough to think if she gave him her body, he would somehow fall in love with her, make him see that she was not just little Freddie, his semisister.

  “Yes, I’m an idle, rutting bastard. Don’t try to make me feel guilty. I don’t, and I won’t.”

  “You say you won’t marry. What happens when you grow too old to indulge yourself?”

  His eyes slid away. “Contrary to what you hear, old people still have sex. Perhaps not with such vigor as we’ve experienced the past few days. Perhaps with more moderation. I have every hope that I’ll go to my grave with a smile on my face after expiring under the lips and hands of my lover.”

  “Eww! How revolting for the woman, to have a man die in her bed!”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, his lips curving. “I still have a few good years left. But fewer hours in this day than I’d like.” He pulled her bonnet string and her hat rolled down the hill. “Leave it. It’s ghastly. I’ll buy you a nicer hat.”

  “With what money?”

  “Mere details. You’re so full of questions, Freddie. Before you ask, let me tell you what we’re going to do right here, right now.”

  He bent to her ear, whispering words both so alarming and so alluring she felt the blush to the toes in her slippers. His fingers were nimble, unhooking her dress, unlacing her corset, unpinning her hair. She was down to her shift in seconds, and after the dark look Sebastian gave her, she pulled it over her head.

  “Help me with my boots, Freddie.”

  She got down awkwardly on her knees, too aware that Sebastian appreciated the picture she made. After a few tugs, the leather boots slipped from his stockinged feet. He stood up and took care of the rest of his clothes himself, then returned to the spread-out cloak.

  It was the first time she had a clear understanding of him naked. There were no shadows from candles at night or the dim light from the long gallery, nothing but bright sunshine to reveal every plane and muscle. He sat perfectly still, as though he expected her to inspect him. His cock was already at the ready. Frederica put a hand to his chest, and he covered it with his own.

  “Do you like what you see?”

  “You are vain. And arrogant.”

  “Yes. I have no false modesty, I’m afraid. I like what I see, Freddie. You are luscious.”

  “I bet you say that to everyone.”

  “Not always. Sometimes I tell them they’re incomparable. Delicious. Divine.”

  “Just empty words, Sebastian. Show me.”

  He lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “So bold for a woman on her knees. Lie down.”

  This was not what he’d described with his wicked whispering, but she complied. His hand stroked her body as he kissed her deeply, his touch so deft she trembled. There was something very primal about kissing naked and with such naked abandon under the sky. Her reservations about the wisdom of Sebastian’s plan became as wispy as the clouds. She felt as natural as the grass and earth beneath her, as free as the light breeze that gentled over them. Though the sun warmed her body, she shivered.

  Sebastian broke the kiss and held her close. “You are not cold?”

  “No. I just—feel things. Don’t stop.”

  “Sweet as your mouth is, I want to kiss you somewhere else now. Do as I said, Frederica.”

  He lay flat on his back. What he asked of her—what he ordered her to do—took her one step further into his web. She felt clumsy, but she turned and positioned herself on her parted knees over his body. No longer could she see the lazy sensuality of his face, but rather his cockstand. It hovered up near her lips, dark and hard. His black nether curls were trimmed, though not as thoroughly as hers. It horrified her to think what he was looking at right now, her bum in the air, her glistening bare folds above his face. She could feel his breath, his hands holding her thighs, his tongue as it swiped and swooped and plundered. He had kissed her there before, and she had taken him in her mouth before, but never from this position, never feeling both so vulnerable and so commanding at the same time. She took a tentative lick, earning his groan against her center.

  And then she duplicated what he did to her, hands and lips busy, relishing the heat and hardness. Each movement was an echo of his, until he was buried in her in the most profound ways. They attacked and anticipated each other, all wet mouth and salty taste and slippery sensation, bringing them both to such a dizzying edge that they lost control. The unbearable tension snapped, the invisible knots unraveled, and Frederica was as free as she had ever been, separate yet joined to Sebastian in the sweetest of sin. She crested, tumbled, then rolled over him, collapsing on her back, too stunned to speak.

  They lay side by side in satiated quiet. Sebastian reached for her hand and squeezed it. She was too weak to return the gesture, sure she
would never move again without a week of sleep. She smiled—perhaps Sebastian could carry her home.

  His voice rumbled near her ankle. “What are you thinking?”

  “Nothing. My mind is a perfect blank.”

  “Come, now. No compliments?”

  She struggled to sit up. “You are without a doubt the most conceited man I’ve ever met.”

  “I don’t doubt that is true. You haven’t met many. It’s been slim pickings for you up here. I should take you to London to meet my friends.”

  “I have no wish to be fashionable,” she said honestly. “And if your friends are anything like you, I shouldn’t enjoy their company at all.”

  Sebastian laughed, clasping his hands behind his head. His body was too long for the cloak, and blades of grass stuck to his dark hair. “My little wasp. Needless to say, I would not allow my friends the liberties I’ve taken with you. I’d be a bit possessive, I think.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “I can’t tell you how to feel, Freddie. But I hope you trust me some. I didn’t come up here to be seduced.”

  “True. You came to throw me out of my house.”

  “Let’s not quibble over details. The devil’s in them.”

  He seemed perfectly satisfied to lie naked where anyone could come upon them. Distancing herself from his spell, she reached for her shift. He stayed her hand.

  “Not yet. I want to look my fill in the daylight.”

  “Really, Sebastian, you have seen every inch of me after today,” she said, annoyed.

  “Places I bet you haven’t seen yourself, Freddie.” He grinned. “Candlelight is all very romantic, but nothing beats the sun for a thorough inspection. Your freckles, for example. I knew you had some, but they’re everywhere, aren’t they? Even here,” he said, smoothing his hand where her pubic hair used to be. “I think I see constellations. Is that Virgo right there?”

  “I’m hardly a virgin now.”

  “No,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “Tell me the truth, Freddie. I want to know about that night ten years ago. Oh, not about our fathers. About us.”