Something Reckless (5 page)

Then the woman leaned forward and wrapped her dark red lips around her companion, taking him as far into her mouth as he would go. The gentleman clutched at the wall behind him to brace himself, even as his fingers tangled in his companion’s hair to guide the speed and depth of her mouth.

Penelope shifted as she watched the scandalous activities below her. Warmth spread through her as she observed the lusty way the mysterious lady took her lover’s erection into her mouth. A tingling sense of desire and power made Penlope shiver against her will when she watched the man tilt his head back, his neck straining with pleasure.

Penelope’s husband had never wanted this act. Never asked for it. But she could see just how much power it gave a woman. And how much pleasure it gave a man.

The gentleman below suddenly caught his partner’s arms and
pulled her up and away from his erection. He slipped his fingers beneath her mask and tossed it away, then did the same to his own mask so he could drop his mouth to hers. They kissed, wild and passionate, as he shifted her around so that her back was to the wall.

He pressed her against the wall, pulling at the low neckline of her sheer gown until both her breasts bobbed free. He lowered his mouth and suckled each nipple while the lady’s fingers dug at his wool-encased shoulders.

Even as he pleasured her breasts, he pushed at her skirts, gliding them up and up until he had access to her legs and the naked mound between them. Penelope gasped at the woman’s lack of chemise and other undergarments, but before she could grasp that shock, the couple had maneuvered into position and the gentleman’s hips thrust.

Penelope couldn’t hear them from high above, but by the way the woman’s lips parted and her eyes closed, it was clear she had let out a long, low sigh of pleasure as she was taken. The couple held there, still, their foreheads pressed together for a long moment. Then the gentleman drew back and thrust forward, his hips working in hard, harsh circles against his companion, who arched into each one, her face contorting with silent pleasure.

Penelope’s fists gripped against the terrace wall, clenching as she watched the scene. Her own breath was short, her body reacting to their coupling with wet heat and clenching tingles of frustrated pleasure. She leaned forward, gritting her teeth with every thrust and trying hard not to picture herself as the woman being taken.

She didn’t want that. She didn’t.

Suddenly there was the clink of glass along the terrace wall and a masculine hand set a champagne glass beside her hand.

Penelope jumped, spinning around to find Jeremy standing there, watching her intently. His dark eyes glittered in the candlelight, focused on her face. She felt heat on her cheeks and raised cold fingers to cover them.

“H-Hello,” she stammered, refusing to meet his eyes.

One dark brow arched in response. “Are you quite well? You are flushed.”

She nodded. Perhaps he hadn’t seen what she was staring at when he approached her. Perhaps he didn’t know that she’d been watching—

“Pretty young woman, isn’t she?” he asked, inclining his head toward the couple.

Well, so much for that hope. Without even looking, she knew which young woman he was referring to. The lady in red who was being taken so lustily.

Penelope spun away with an even darker blush and caught up the glass of champagne. Her hand shook as she took a long sip of the bubbly liquid. “I-I suppose.”

Her gaze flitted back to the corner. The couple was still mating furiously, but the end seemed near. The gentleman’s neck strained on every thrust and the lady had put the back of her hand against her lips, likely to muffle her mewls of pleasure. Finally the man caught her mouth for a hard kiss and stiffened, his legs shaking as he reached completion. They parted for a brief moment, then their lips met again, this time for a gentle kiss
before he set her down on the floor and helped her smooth her dress over her bare legs.

Penelope turned away. Somehow watching their postcoital gentleness seemed more of an intrusion than observing them have sex had been.

“Who is she?” she managed to ask.

“Her name is Cecilia Charles. She is the daughter of a very famous courtesan and has followed in her mama’s footsteps.” He tilted his head as the couple exited from behind the screen. “And she’s made a good match in Rannoch.”

Penelope stared at the retreating back of the gentleman and the twitching hips of the lady as they circulated back into the crowd. “That is Peter Rannoch?”

She hadn’t even recognized the popular gentleman. Her own excitement had blinded her.

Jeremy nodded. “Second son of the Duke of Turnberg.”

“That woman shouldn’t be forced to do such things at a ball,” Penelope murmured. But even as she said it, she thought of the expression on Cecilia Charles’s face. Never had she looked
forced
into anything.

Jeremy turned toward her, and she felt his gaze on her face. She couldn’t help but blush once more. Did he know what kind of thoughts had drifted to her mind while she watched the couple? Could he read how aroused she had been and still was?

“Do you think she was forced?” he asked softly.

She swallowed, looking at him, but never meeting his eyes. “Wouldn’t she have to be to do something so bold, practically out in the open?”

He smiled, just a slight expression, but it made her feel very young and inexperienced. “Haven’t you ever done something naughty? Something you knew you shouldn’t? Something you might get caught at, but you did it anyway? Perhaps the idea of being caught only made the act all the more exciting?”

She caught her breath. “Are you implying that I ever—”

“It’s not all about sex, Penelope,” he said softly, and took a small step toward her. Close enough that she could smell the intoxicating combination of sherry and mint on his warm breath. “I mean any little thing you knew you shouldn’t do. Take a cookie from a housekeeper when she wasn’t looking. Ride a horse astride just out of the view of your Mama. Have you never done anything that involved a little risk?”

Penelope thought of her own childhood. Her overbearing mother. Her often absent and completely irresponsible father. Her elder sister, Miranda had often been forced to take the reins and make sure everything was all right. Penelope had never had the heart to do anything naughty and make her sister worry over her, as well.

“No,” she finally admitted softly. “I did was I was supposed to do. When I was supposed to do it.”

Jeremy stared at her for a long, quiet moment. “Then it might be difficult for you to understand if I explained to you why a lady would agree to doing something so taboo in public. But it is a predilection many have.”

Penelope clenched her fists. Again, she felt completely naïve. “Are
you
included in that group?”

“Who have a predilection for pursuing their conquests in
public?” he asked, eyes widening. When she nodded, they went even wider. “I will admit to being swept away by the moment a few times over the years. However, I have always preferred to take my lovers in private, where I would have more time to savor the surrender.”

Penelope wet her suddenly dry lips and forced herself to look up into Jeremy’s eyes. They were such a pretty green. So sensual and dark. And his mouth also drew her attention. How many women had he kissed with that mouth? His lips were very full; she had to assume they would be nice to kiss. They were standing so close now that it would be so easy just to lift up on her tiptoes and indulge. That would be very naughty. A stolen kiss from one of the
ton
’s most talked about rakes.

Would he be swept away or want to savor the moment if she did so?

“But that was before I was reformed,” Jeremy said, and took a long step back.

Penelope shook her head to clear her mind. Great God, what had she been thinking? Standing here in the midst of a Cyprian’s ball, contemplating kissing this man?

“I-I think I have seen enough,” she said, voice shaking. “I want to go home.”

Jeremy nodded. “Yes, you have probably seen enough for one night.” He hesitated before he held out his arm. “Come, I will escort you home.”

Penelope took his arm, ignoring the spark of awareness that shot through her at his touch. As they weaved their way back down and through the crowd, she thought of what Jeremy had said.

Was he truly “reformed”? Or had he escorted her here for the exact reason that he wished for her to see such titillating sights?

And if the second were true…did he know just how fully she had fallen into his trap?

Jeremy watched Penelope closely as she motioned him into her parlor and said a few soft words to her servant. He had been surprised she asked him to come into the house for tea, but he’d been in no position to refuse. Not if he wanted to follow through on his plan.

Although tonight, perhaps, his plan had succeeded all too well. When he came onto the balcony at the Cyprian ball and saw Penelope staring at Cecilia and Rannoch’s frantic coupling, her breath short, her eyes glazed with desire, her legs shaking, it had taken all his willpower not to sweep her against his chest and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. And that had been even more difficult to resist when she stared at his mouth, asked him questions about his own conquests that he hadn’t been ready to answer.

As much as he wanted this woman, those things weren’t part of his plans. No, he had to be careful. Prudent.

And it couldn’t be Jeremy Vaughn, Duke of Kilgrath, who seduced her. If he did, she could curl up into her shell and fight him. He
would
have her, but it would be in the guise of her mysterious secret admirer. So when he was with her, he had to remember that fact.

No, when he was Jeremy Vaughn, he had to play her friend. Someone she could trust.

“May I ask you a question?” he said as he took a seat by the fire.

Penelope paced restlessly to the window and stared outside for a long moment before she whispered, “What question?”

“You have always seemed to be a very proper lady,” he began, choosing every word carefully. “However, taking up a public fight against sexual excess brings the kind of attention to you that most women of your station shun.”

Slowly, she turned to face him. Her cheeks were pale and her eyes wide. “Yes. It’s true that having this crusade thrust upon me has altered my life in so many ways. Friends I’ve held dear for years have cut me. And people I never had any association with suddenly know my name. I’ve been praised and threatened, sometimes simultaneously.”

Jeremy tilted his head. “Thrust upon you? Are you saying you don’t truly believe in your cause?”

If that were the case, “convincing” her to end her intervention would be all the easier.

Penelope looked at him for a long moment, and Jeremy could sense the fight within her. She did not yet trust him, which he
had to give her credit for, and yet there was a longing in her eyes. A desire to tell him things that perhaps she couldn’t tell anyone else. All he had to do was cultivate her desire for a confidante free of judgment.

He stepped a little closer. “I understand your hesitance. But I promise you that I only ask from mere curiosity in how you came to this place.”

Her expression relaxed a little, but triumph was not Jeremy’s reaction. He had manipulated her by saying what she needed to hear, but that fact felt…empty. Cold. For the first time, he wasn’t proud of his ability to turn any situation to his own benefit. Especially when he knew what the ultimate outcome would be for Penelope.

“I only said a few things,” she said softly. “I only spoke out of irate frustration. And then it all spiraled out of control.”

He tilted his head. “I don’t understand.”

She paced the room restlessly. “It was a few months ago. I was almost out of mourning, at a tea with a few friends. One of them was very upset because she had found out her ‘perfect’ happy marriage was a lie. Her husband had secretly kept his mistress, who was now expecting his illegitimate child. Seeing my friend so heartbroken, so wrenched by her husband’s thoughtless actions, made me
angry
.”

Jeremy remained silent, observing the way her face lit up when she spoke. Her cheeks darkened with heightened color, her body became animated, her eyes glowed. If this was anger, it was worth inspiring. Suddenly she was more than just pretty. She was magnificent.

“I don’t know why I said it, but I launched into a tirade about
men of the
ton
and their foolish, selfish actions. Once I started, the words flowed. I talked about their sexual freedom and how we women could curb their out of control habits, if only we banded together.” She shook her head. “It was only talk. But the women who were in attendance seemed utterly mesmerized. It was as if none of them had ever thought to tell their husbands how they felt about their philandering, let alone demand something more.”

“Probably none of them had.” Jeremy chuckled. Certainly, he had never met a woman so bold as to think she could control him. “So you became their champion.”

She nodded. “Somehow word of my ideas that day spread. Suddenly I was being approached, ladies were seeking me out to have me repeat my thoughts. And then a few women began to actually put my words into action. That’s when the men began to hiss at me, glare at me…even threaten me.”

Jeremy’s smile fell. Although he understood the anger and frustration of men like his friends who had had their lives turned upside down by Penelope’s crusade, the idea that any of them would threaten her gave him no pleasure. As frustrating as Penelope was, she did not deserve to be harmed. Or even frightened.

It had always been his belief that if a lady was angry at a gentleman, it was the gentleman’s duty to use his charm to appease her. If his friends were incapable of that, that was their failing. Not Penelope’s.

“Do you think any of the threats are serious?” he asked, suddenly quiet. If Wharton could become so impassioned by her, it was reasonable that other men felt even more strongly about stopping her. By any means necessary.

She shrugged, but the way she dipped her chin and refused to meet his eyes told him that she had been frightened by the threats. “I think most are not any more than blustering talk. But I cannot pretend I haven’t angered some very powerful men.”

“You do not have to continue to pursue this,” Jeremy said, carefully testing the waters. “If you feel it endangers you, you could easily end it. I think if you simply left off, soon everyone would forget.”

Penelope sucked in a breath and shook her head. “No. Now that I have begun, I cannot stop.”

“Why?” he asked and moved closer, yet again. She stiffened at the movement and her turquoise stare came up to his face, filled with anticipation and trepidation in equal measure. “Why are you so driven?”

She fisted her hands at her sides. “I have seen the consequences of men’s actions,” she whispered, her voice harsh. “More than once.”

The moment the words escaped her lips, Penelope broke her stare with a little gasp. Jeremy started. That was the second time she had eluded to some kind of personal pain in her past that had to do with her crusade. Perhaps ferreting that pain out was the key to silencing her.

“Penelope—” he began.

But before he could finish the door behind them opened, and a woman stepped inside. “Good evening, Penelope—”

The woman cut off with a gasp and staggered back, even as Penelope’s gaze jerked up and her wide eyes moved to him, filled with fear.

Jeremy drew back. What could cause such a reaction? He stared
at the woman who had entered the room. She seemed familiar, with her pale blue eyes and brown hair. Where had he seen her?

Wait. He knew exactly where he had seen this woman before. Although she no longer wore the shocking, expensive gowns or sultry makeup that had once drawn men to her like flies to honey, there was no hiding the sensual sway to her hips or the familiar pout of her full lips. It was Fiona Clifton. The mistress who had left Jeremy’s best friend, Anthony Wharton, because of Penelope’s prying.

The woman whose desertion had driven his friends to force him into stopping Penelope.

Why had Fiona come into the room?

Penelope clenched her fists in utter terror. Dear God, any other lady’s maid would have inquired whether her mistress had a guest before she barged into the parlor to interrupt.

But that was the trouble. Fiona had no training in any of the little nuances that separated a servant from her mistress. And now she had walked into a very dangerous situation. Jeremy was staring at her friend, and it was perfectly clear that he recognized the former courtesan. He knew she was his best friend’s former mistress.

“Fiona?” he stammered. “Great God, is this where you scurried off to?”

If Fiona was a terrible maid, Penelope had to give her credit for having other talents. Although fear sparkled in her blue eyes, the young woman never missed a beat. She simply stepped up to Jeremy with a smile that could only be called flirtatious and laughed.

“Kilgrath! Goodness, how long has it been? And you are looking simply devilish, as usual.”

Penelope pursed her lips. The woman couldn’t learn the proper etiquette of serving tea, but she still had all the lessons of being a courtesan firmly in hand. She was looking at Jeremy like she could devour him right in the middle of the sitting room. And worse, Jeremy was staring back like he wouldn’t mind that in the least.

And thoughts of “devouring” only made Penelope think about the sinful scene she’d witnessed earlier and struck her mute as a hot blush colored her cheeks.

“And how do you know Lady Norman?” Jeremy asked with a quick side glance for Penelope.

Fiona smiled, but there was a tightness around her lips that spoke of her own nervousness. Penelope stuffed her shaking hands behind her back.

“Lady Norman was kind enough to offer me a position in her home,” Fiona said, and she gave Penelope a glance filled with genuine gratitude.

It was that gratitude that made it easy to overlook Fiona’s other failings.

“Is that right?” Jeremy said, his surprise evident in both his expression and tone.

Fiona nodded. “Yes. Actually, I came to deliver this for you, Penelope.”

Penelope winced as Fiona used her first name. She hadn’t corrected the young woman before, mostly because it seemed difficult for the sweet but flighty girl to remember any more than one or two things at once. But hearing Penelope’s name from a
servant’s lips made Jeremy’s eyebrows arch. Damn, he would certainly have questions. And if she wanted him to keep Fiona’s presence here a secret, she’d be forced to answer them.

Penelope stepped forward, hand outstretched.

“What is it?” she asked, finally finding her missing voice.

Fiona handed over a folded sheet of paper. When Penelope turned it over, she gasped. There was the sensual, swirling handwriting of her mysterious admirer. Damn, it was another letter from
him
.

“Thank you,” she stammered as she jammed the letter behind her back. “You are dismissed.”

Fiona cast Jeremy a quick glance. “Good evening, Your Grace. It was very pleasant to see you again.”

Jeremy inclined his head politely, but there was no denying the curiosity and interest in his eyes as he murmured, “And you, Fiona. Good evening.”

The moment her maid had left the room, Jeremy turned on Penelope, a dark eyebrow raised in question. “Fiona is under your employ?”

Penelope straightened her shoulders. “Yes. She is my lady’s maid.”

Jeremy nodded slowly, then looked at her with a hint of wicked humor. “Is she any good at that?”

Penelope’s eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t been expecting that question and found herself blurting out, “Not very.” She covered her mouth, smothering a nervous giggle. “But she
is
trying to learn.”

He laughed, and the sound was entirely pleasant. Deep and rich. She stared at him, despite herself. His entire face changed
when he laughed. He seemed less the sensual devil and more just a man whose smile was…warm. Inviting. He had a little dimple in the corner of his lip on the right side of his face.

She blinked. Great God, what was she thinking?

“I, er, I would like to ask you not to mention Fiona’s presence here,” she said, forcing herself to maintain a very businesslike tone.

Jeremy stopped smiling. “May I ask why?”

She faltered, her doubts about the man before her rushing back. Fiona had told her terrible stories about the abusive anger of Anthony Wharton. Fiona’s past was part of why Penelope had continued on her quest, even when it felt like too much for her to bear. Was it truly possible that Jeremy wouldn’t be totally aware of Wharton’s abuse?

Or did he simply not see it as a problem, since Fiona was merely a woman—and a courtesan at that?

She pursed her lips at the thought that Jeremy would stand by while a woman was beaten. That she wasn’t certain what he would or wouldn’t do was a painful reminder that she couldn’t trust him.

“I simply wouldn’t want the people who come to my home to treat her with anything less than respect based upon her past indiscretions,” she explained. “It is the one favor I will ask of you.”

Jeremy shrugged. “I’m quite certain that the subject of the servants you keep will not come up in polite conversation, Penelope. But if it does, I shall not be the one to reveal that Fiona is under your employ, or the nature of her previous life.”

“Not to anyone?” she pressed.

He stared at her, his eyes lighting up with understanding. “Ah, do you mean Andrew Wharton, her former protector?”

She nodded slowly.

With a shrug, he said, “I see no reason why he should be told about Fiona’s whereabouts unless she chooses to tell him about them, herself.”

Tentative relief flooded her. Now she only had to hope that Jeremy would be good to his word.

“She brought you a letter,” he said with a little smile. “One you hid behind your back.”

Penelope darted her gaze to him, and her grip tightened on the letter behind her. “It is utterly impolite for you to point out something like that, you know.”

Jeremy laughed. “Is it? You must forgive me, I am still learning to be a reasonable man.” He hesitated, leaning to the side as if to peek at the missive she had hidden. “Is it a love letter?”

Penelope’s lips parted. Was it that obvious? Except, she wouldn’t really call it a love letter. What the man who wrote to her had said last time had very little to do with love. Desire, yes. Passion, certainly. Love…no.

“No, and even if it was, it would be none of your affair!” she snapped as she backed away from him.

He laughed again, and Penelope stopped backing up with a start. He was only teasing her. Like they were close. Like they were friends.