Risque: A Regency Menage Tale

Chapter One


London
May, 1808
Mrs. Alexandria Prescott.
The name made the back of her neck itch. However, being a widow at a mere five-and-twenty years did have its advantages. Squaring her shoulders, Alix stepped further into the already teeming room of the Dobson’s annual summer dinner party.
She surveyed the crowd in the very proper British parlor, barely suppressing a tingle of excitement. Her eyes moved over the gathering, taking note of the ample bosoms and stiff expressions in attendance.
After her long sojourn in Ireland, she decided to reacquaint herself with London society. Her Irish holiday had been an exciting adventure, the rolling emerald hills of the countryside one large playground.
Shaking her head, Alix suppressed a laugh at her own expense. Sean had known how to please a woman, and oh, his tongue could do wicked things to her body. She did miss him, but that little romance played itself out. It was time to return home and leave behind that particular, if pleasurable, distraction.
With new blood surrounding her, she felt energized in a way she hadn’t in far too long.
Familiar faces greeted her as new and long-forgotten ones were introduced. She was under no delusion that their friendliness was a result of her late husband’s fabulous banking wealth, luckily left in trust solely to her. It’d been two years since her older husband had passed.
John had needed to protect his wealth from a detested pig of a cousin, and she needed to marry. The simple arrangement had resulted in a convenient marriage that kept John’s wealth far from the reach of his cousin’s grubby little fingers. Alexandria knew it was this last triumph which warmed John on his death bed.
After her yearlong mourning period ended, it was as if a chime had sounded. Suitors suddenly appeared out of every crack and crevice, vying for her hand. And her fortune.
At first it had been rather overwhelming. It didn’t take Alix long to appreciate and enjoy the attention. However, she’d be hard pressed to allow any suitor control over her person as John had had control.
No, it was considerably more fun to be a widow than she had ever anticipated.
“What wickedness occupies Mrs. Prescott’s thoughts this eve?” Lady Emily Blakethorne whispered seductively into her ear.
Alix, a pleasurable hum of need pulsing through her, turned to grin at her closest friend. It had been Emily who taught her to enjoy her widowed freedom, and her bedroom, with such abandon.
“No wickedness, my darling Emily.” Alix took Emily’s arm and they stepped to a quiet corner of the well-appointed parlor for as much privacy as the crowded ballroom could offer. “Simply taking note of the new players in London.”
“It is quite the untried crop, Alix,” Emily commented, her eyes roaming over the gowns and finely tailored jackets.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Alix narrowed her eyes, surveying the room again. “Rather unfair to expose such innocents to the likes of us.” She chuckled.
“Hush!” Emily swallowed her laugh.
She gave a quick nod to the side where Phillipa Harding hovered behind her fan, clearly waiting for even a hint of gossip. Alix, unwilling to become entangled in a conversation with Phillipa over anything, quickly led Emily across the room. Phillipa had a propensity to insert gossip into every breath.
“Now that you’re back in Town, there’s someone I wanted you to meet,” Emily said as they wandered the room. Alix nodded to several acquaintances she’d known before John’s death, but didn’t stop to talk with them.
“Emily,” she began exasperatedly.
But Emily waved away her interruption with a flash of a wicked smile. “Brent Kendrick, Earl of Rowan; he couldn’t attend this evening, but he’s just the sort to interest you. Mesmerizing green eyes and a positively boyish smile you could so easily corrupt.”
Alix wondered who this Lord Rowan was to have Emily flatter him so; her friend usually preferred women.
“Personally,” Emily finished, “I think he’d be your perfect match, especially since he’s a great supporter of Blakethorne.”
Emily would. While her marriage wasn’t a true love match, they did respect each other and shared passions—both in bed and for politics. The fact that she considered an ally of Blakethorne as Alix’s perfect match didn’t surprise her.
“Normally I’d shy away from such introductions. However,” Alix admitted, intrigued, “as you know me so well, darling, and my appetites, I’ll trust you, Emily, and look forward to meeting him.”
“Yes, dearest, trust me. He’s eminently discreet. I’ve not heard one whisper of a scandalous affair, though I know he’s indulged. And”—Emily lowered her voice—“he will not disappoint.” She started to say more but interrupted herself with a sigh. “Oh, drat. I need to rescue Blakethorne from Phillipa.”
She turned to Alix with a hopeful look.
“Sorry, dear.” Alix stepped away, shaking her head. “You’re on your own with that one.”
“Pity me,” Emily muttered.
Alix laughed and stepped away from Emily, letting her friend rescue her husband from Phillipa’s incessant chatter on her own. As she walked toward the dinning service laid out in a sumptuous buffet, an errant auburn curl brushed her cheek. Absently pushing it back, she stepped up to the sterling punch bowl.
“Please, allow me,” a deep male voice sounded from behind. If the voice was any indication, Alix thought, tonight definitely had promise.
Alix turned to see a dark-haired gentleman ladle punch into a silver cup before offering it to her. He was a striking man, larger than her Irish lover in both height and broadness. Her eyes could not help but survey the expanse of him. Dark hair and eyes, a cleft chin she could so easily see teasing with her tongue.
What a pleasant encounter.
“Has Mrs. Dobson relegated you to punch ladler?” Alix queried. “Or is it your habit to rescue the women forced to serve themselves?”
“It was my intention to display my expert skills,” he said with what could only be described as a sinful smile. Seductive and promising, as he stood closer to her than politeness allowed. He leaned in further and added with a wink, “It’s all in the wrist, you see.”
She couldn’t help the light laugh that escaped her. Watching his rich dark eyes, her blood heated from his nearness, and her breath caught at the implication of his words. She threw all propriety to the wind and stayed exactly where she was.
Impulsive and scandalous, yes, but she didn’t care.
Boldly extending her hand, Alix offered a coy, knowing smile. “As we are without proper introduction, allow me. Mrs. Alexandria Prescott.”
“Mr. Kane Huntington.” He took the proffered hand and kissed her gloved fingers, clearly in no rush to release her. “And as you see, I am at your service.”
“I do see,” Alix agreed, letting her hand rest in his. “Huntington?” She slowly repeated the name, trying to place where she’d heard it before. When recognition dawned, her eyes snapped back to his. “Oh. If I’m correct, your reputation precedes you.”
“Yes.” Kane sighed dramatically with a mournful nod. “That old thing does seem to follow my every move. I’m surprised no one has stepped up to whisk you away from so disreputable a rake.”
“Widows,” Alix said succinctly, holding his brown gaze. “We’re given so much more room to err.”
“Question is.” Kane shifted his body closer, and Alix knew they’d be the gossip of the ton by morning. Again, she didn’t care. “Do they? Or are they the boxed remains of a once vibrant woman?”
Alix stared steadily at him for a long moment, quickly weighing her options and finding everything in agreement. She wanted Kane, and a pleasurable evening in bed with him sounded perfect. A wicked smile curled her lips.
“Expertly played, my dear Mr. Huntington,” she said, innuendo coating her voice. “Intention and challenge in one breath.”
“I was moved by your beauty to be at my best,” Kane whispered against her ear.
His words caused her to shiver and she cursed him for noticing. His low chuckle did something to her, and Alix felt herself leaning closer to him, his mouth a temptation she couldn’t resist. Drawing herself back, she found and held his gaze, unwilling to give away anything more to so alluring a man.
“I certainly hope,” Alix whispered back, lips brushing his ear as she tossed all decorum to the wind. “You’re at your best when your body is between my legs. I am rather demanding.”
Alix watched Kane visibly falter. He hadn’t expected the boldness of her statement, and that power shot another bolt of need through her. In an instant, as they watched one another, Alix knew Kane felt as she did.
She’d stumbled upon wickedly kindred soul.
* * * *
Excitement. The word came to her the moment the front door closed behind Kane.
It had taken weeks to warm up to her Irish lover, despite her attraction to Sean. This, to agree to have Kane meet at her at her townhouse mere hours after introducing herself to him, didn’t just border on madness. It tipped the balance.
She wasn’t sure if it was the suddenness of this encounter or her unrestrained boldness but she felt a rush of excitement the likes of which she never had before.
Like forbidden fruit, he drew her to him. Whether his colorful reputation, the scandalous way he comported himself at the gathering, or his mesmerizing dark eyes, it didn’t matter. Alix wanted him. The fact they were, indeed, the gossip of Mrs. Dobson’s only added to the fire burning through her.
Simply anticipating being with him, his mouth on her body, his fingers inside her, made Alix want to rush things. Drag him upstairs and feel him fill her. As she tried in vain to control her breathing and hoped he couldn’t sense the arousal pooling between her thighs, Alix wondered if he’d tie her up.
Or better—and she couldn’t resist the shudder of need that wracked her body—if he’d let her tie him up.
Eyeing him, she caught the predatory look in his now-black gaze as he stalked the short distance separating them. His boots echoed faintly on the marbled foyer, face shadowed from the single candelabra her butler, Beckett, had left before discreetly disappearing.
Kane looked as if he wanted to devour her.
Licking her lips, Alix decided that by initiating this delicious rendezvous, she could initiate anything else she damn well wanted to. The headiness of the thought shot through her. In her life, she’d held very little control over anything. But this mutual seduction exhilarated her. No pretext lay between them.
Right now, despite the game she and Kane played, Alix wanted him—be it on the floor of her foyer or the comfort of her bed, or both, she’d have him.
With a flick of her wrist, Alix grabbed Kane’s cravat, tugged him forward, and kissed him. For one delectable moment, her mind blanked. He tasted of brandy and darkness and sexual promises. Deepening the kiss, letting his taste wash through her, Alix opened herself to the delicious feel of him.
For anyone else, this would be an incredibly risky choice; Alix knew she was lucky to have the protection of widowhood. Frankly, if she’d given this more than a few moments thought she might have considered her reputation—or the ruin thereof. At any other time previous to tonight, this clawing need would have frightened her. But it no longer mattered.
All that mattered right at this moment was touching Kane, kissing him. Enjoying him.
One of Kane’s hands cupped her face; the other molded her body to his, hand insistent on the curve of her hip. Even through the layers of her skirts she could feel his cock press against her and only realized after the fact that she’d shifted her legs to accommodate him.
Alix could feel herself swept in the tide of passion, body winding tighter even as her control slipped. Realization like a shock of cold water jerked her back. Carefully schooling her lips into a wicked smile, she opened her eyes and looked into the darkly amused ones of Kane.
She took a deep breath, then another, but it did no good. Her body wanted him, game be damned, and she knew she’d do anything to have him. But it had to be on her terms. Always on her terms.
“Come upstairs,” she invited in a voice husky with need. Alix swallowed and even though she ached to have Kane enter her, assuage this biting want, she stepped back.
“I don’t fancy having you in the foyer of my townhouse.”
Kane chuckled, sounding maddeningly in control of his own emotions, his own body. He didn’t immediately release her, but pulled her harder to him. It took all her willpower not to jerk her hips against his, not to caress down his body and take him into her hand. She licked her lips again, imagining his taste as she took him deep into her throat.
“Odd,” Kane teased and she wondered if he could read her mind. “But I think that’s exactly what you want.”
True—everything about tonight was what she wanted. To take the control she now held over her life and experience every drop of it. She craved the forbidden pleasure Kane offered her. She wanted to flaunt their affair in the faces of the judgmental ton, even if only surreptitiously. There was very little society could do to her now, and Alix reveled in that.
“Yes,” he whispered, mouth light as he nipped his way down her neck. “Yes, I think that’s exactly what you want.”
Eyes opened, she smiled coyly before turning away and walking up the steps. Over her shoulder she teasingly called, “I prefer you in my bed. Where I intend to put your reputation to test.”