The Cheeky Minx Read online

  With renewed confidence, she climbed up on the crate and pushed the kitchen window open. It was more of a trial to climb through than she would have imagined. Her efforts ended up including a fair amount of grunting and flailing. When at last she squeezed through the window, the drop she experienced was greater than she anticipated. With a yelp, she spilled to the floor, failing to catch herself in time and landing hard on her backside.

  “I’m not certain I appreciate the irony,” she said as she stood, rubbing her poor, bruised bottom. It seemed even Lord Lichfield’s secret address had curious tendencies toward abuse.

  She put the thought aside and crept slowly through the kitchen toward a hallway that she assumed led to the rest of the house.

  “If I were hiding a priceless diamond, where would I put it,” she whispered.

  The answer was as obvious then as it had been the day she’d gone to Lord Lichfield’s proper house with her mother for tea. Something as precious as a diamond would be kept in the innermost, most intimate room in the house. Which meant that all she needed to do was to locate Lord Lichfield’s bedroom.

  She made her way up to the first floor, craning her neck to look inside each room as she passed. The front rooms were mostly empty, which immediately ruled them out as potential diamond repositories.

  In retrospect, she should have realized that the quiet, shuffling sounds she heard as she made her way to the back of the house to check those rooms were portents of disaster. As it was, she didn’t think about them until she was in the midst of pushing open a half-closed door at the far end of the short hall. Hers wasn’t the only gasp of surprise as she stepped incautiously into the room and found herself face to face with Lord Lichfield.

  The two of them stood gaping at each other for a moment. Shock left Jo immobilized. The room was indeed a bedchamber, though it was decorated far more simply than Lord Lichfield’s room in his proper house. It held little more than a simple bed covered with a quilt, a plain wardrobe—which stood open and was mostly empty—and a dusty washstand in the corner. A trunk stood open on the chest at the foot of the bed. Lord Lichfield looked as though he were either unpacking and moving things into the wardrobe or packing up what had been inside. He was in his shirtsleeves without a cravat, and he held a robe of red, Chinese silk in one hand and what appeared to be a medieval flail in the other.

  Jo’s observations happened in a moment, and as soon as sense rushed back to her, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

  Lord Lichfield uttered the exact same words at the same time, then answered with, “This is my house.”

  Jo’s face heated, and twin snakes of embarrassment and excitement twined through her gut. There would be no looking for the diamond now. Although it seemed painfully obvious to her that it must be nearby, in the very room where they stood, perhaps. She’d come all this way, risked a great deal to prove his guilt. Now was not the time to back down. Besides, she couldn’t have found another excuse for her presence in his secret house on such short notice.

  So she squared her shoulders, tilted her chin up, and said, “The game is over, Lord Lichfield. I know all about your notorious doings.”

  Surprise flashed across his face for a moment before his expression turned sly and tempting. He tossed the robe and the crop into the chest, then stepped around to face Jo more fully. “I haven’t doubted for a moment that you knew all of my secrets.” He stepped closer, his presence growing intimidating. “That’s why you sought me out the other day, isn’t it?”

  Jo’s whole body heated at the mention of the other day. The same core of liquid fire that he’d ignited in her sex then flared back to life. But she couldn’t stray from her mission.

  “I’m surprised you admit your guilt, my lord,” she said, forcing her body not to tremble as he moved close enough for her to catch his delicious scent.

  For a moment, Lord Lichfield’s wolfish expression dipped into a confused frown. “I would hardly call it guilt. Concupiscence, perhaps.”

  It was Jo’s turn to frown in confusion. “Concupiscence?” She blinked. “What does concupiscence have to do with being a diamond thief?”

  Lord Lichfield’s eyes went wide and his expression flashed from confusion to amusement for a moment before the mask of virility he’d worn returned. “You think I am a diamond thief?”

  Jo was no longer so certain, but she dropped her shoulders, blew out a breath, and said, “Well, aren’t you?”

  Rather than answering her directly, he crossed his arms and glanced down his nose at her. “Do you actually believe me capable of theft?”

  “You are quite capable of other things,” she said, a hitch forming in her voice as her memory conjured up what all those things were. The bruise she’d suffered breaking into the house only accentuated her memories.

  He continued to stare at her with a mixture of incredulity and attempted intimidation. Jo had the feeling his efforts to exert mastery over her were, in fact, merely an attempt and that other emotions were busy superseding what she was beginning to suspect was an act. She decided to jump in before he recovered his bearings.

  “You were at the East India Company’s house on the day the Chandramukhi Diamond was stolen, weren’t you?” she asked, remembering the way she’d seen Rebecca’s Nigel ask questions.

  “Yes,” he answered slowly and in a low voice, his eyes narrowed as though he were reading her.

  “And you own a secret property, unbeknownst to most of society,” she went on, gesturing around the room.

  His lips twitched and his eyes flashed with amusement. “I can assure you, the purpose of this townhouse is not housing stolen goods.”

  “It is obviously intended for some nefarious use,” Jo said, feeling less and less certain about her assumptions with each second that ticked by.

  “Yes,” he admitted, taking a step forward. “It is. And do you want to know what purpose that is?”

  “It’s not for hiding diamonds?” she asked, her voice turning small and uncertain.

  “No.”

  He stepped so close to her that she was forced to backpedal. At least until she thumped up against the wall. Lord Lichfield didn’t stop there, though. He grabbed her hands and pinned them to the wall above her head, similarly to the way he had wedged her against the door to his closet the other day. Jo’s breath came in shallow gulps as her legs turned to melted butter and her sex throbbed. He couldn't possibly mean to repeat their activities of the other day, could he?

  “I recently purchased this house from a friend,” he said in a low voice against her ear. “I purchased it for the purpose of luring naughty young women inside. Cheeky little minxes who housebreak and accuse their fiancés of stealing.”

  “Did you really?” she asked, her voice quivering with a mixture of fear and lust.

  “No,” he answered, his tone surprisingly forthright. He leaned back a bit, still pinning her wrists against the wall. There was a curious earnestness in his eyes as he studied her. “I purchased it from a friend in financial straits as a means of helping him out.”

  “Lord Herrington?” Jo asked, attempting to fit the pieces of things she’d overheard together.

  Lord Lichfield frowned slightly. “How did you know?”

  “I…I know Lord Herrington is in financial difficulty,” Jo confessed. “It is widely known.”

  Concern painted Lord Lichfield’s expression. “Rufus won’t be happy about that.”

  Of all things, a pulse of tenderness filled Jo’s heart. Lord Lichfield must have cared considerably for his friend to be so concerned about his feelings. Knowing that made the heat growing within her spike.

  A second later, the rakish mask Lord Lichfield wore snapped back into place. He pressed his hips against hers. Jo sucked in a breath at the hard bulge that ground against her.

  “I purchased this place as a den where I can entertain women in need of strict discipline,” he said.

  Jo’s eyebrows lifted in shock. A moment later, they angled into a s
cowl. He was supposed to marry her, and yet he intended to consort with women? Women like the ones she’d spied through the walls of the East India Company’s house who seemed to enjoy being punished?

  Before she could take him to task for infidelity, Lord Lichfield said, “I purchased it for that reason, but now I have no intention of using it that way.”

  Jo blinked. “You don’t?”

  “No,” he said. “There is only one woman I know of now who deserves a damn good thrashing for her insolence.”

  In a flash, Jo’s scowl was back as she contemplated who that woman could be. It was only when he yanked her away from the wall, spun her around, and pressed her into the wall chest first while he tugged at the ties of her gown that Jo realized he meant her.

  “Cheeky minxes who accuse their future husbands of stealing diamonds need to be punished,” he said, finishing with the ties of her gown and pushing the bodice roughly down over her shoulders. “Wicked young ladies who housebreak will most certainly pay the price.”

  He tugged her back against his chest and continued undressing her with demanding movements. He untied her petticoat and shoved it and her gown over her hips so that they dropped to the floor, then went to work on her stays. When they fell away, he closed his hands around her breasts and kneaded them forcefully.

  “Oh,” Jo sighed, closing her eyes and resting her head back against his shoulder. “Oh, my.” She arched her back, thrusting her breasts more fully into his hands.

  The pressure with which Lord Lichfield handled her eased a bit. “Do you like that?” he asked, a note of genuine curiosity in his voice.

  “I like the way you touch me, but perhaps not so hard,” she said before she thought better about criticizing him.

  For the briefest of moments, he was perfectly still. When he resumed teasing and caressing her breasts, it was with a far gentler touch. “Like this?” he asked.

  A shudder of pleasure swept through her, tightening her sex, especially when he began teasing her nipples into sensitive nubs. “Yes,” she sighed, wriggling her hips against his.

  He sucked in a breath, jerking his hips away for a moment before grinding his hardening staff against her backside. Jo couldn’t believe the heaven she’d fallen into. At least she couldn’t until he pinched both of her nipples hard.

  “Ow!” She wrenched away from him, twisting to face him with a scowl. She had half a mind to slap his face and only just held back. “That wasn’t very nice,” she said, hugging herself.

  He stared back at her with more confusion than lust, though the lust was certainly there. It grew when his gaze dropped to her torso. Jo was suddenly aware that she stood before him in nothing but an extremely thin chemise that hid very little from his view. Her pulse sped up as she embraced the deliciousness of being exposed to him that way.

  “I’ll let you take my chemise off if you promise to be nice to me,” she said, her heart beating like a drum against her ribs. It felt sinfully good to tempt him that way.

  Judging by the size of the bulge in his breeches, he was sorely tempted. “You’ll remove your chemise if I tell you to remove it, you wicked little harlot.”

  Jo’s eyes popped wide in indignation. “You would call your future wife a name like that?”

  “If she deserves it,” he said.

  There was something challenging in his eyes, something bright and full of fire. She’d seen plenty of men who were truly cruel and heartless, who would have called her names and spoken meanly to her. Her heart told her Lord Lichfield wasn’t one of those men. The things he said were a game, and she wanted to win.

  “If I am a harlot, then you are a…a jackal.” Inwardly Jo winced, wishing she knew more vulgar names for a man of loose morals. “I won’t budge an inch from this spot or take off my chemise unless you remove all of your clothes.”

  Fire danced in his eyes. “Do you think that is a threat, minx?” he asked, unbuttoning and shrugging out of his waistcoat before tossing it aside. “I’ll show you a threat.”

  Jo instantly wondered if her gamble was a wise one as he peeled his shirt off over his head, revealing the broad, muscular expanse of his chest with its dark hair. He bent over to pull off his boots—which took more effort than she would have imagined. So much so that the tension of the moment was almost shattered. It was recovered a moment later when he straightened and undid the fall of his breeches while staring straight at her eyes.

  At last, he shoved his breeches down over his hips with a defiant gesture. Jo’s eyes dropped from his to the magnificent length of his penis as it sprung up. It was thick and hard and the tip was fully flared. She’d seen and indeed touched it the other day, but the full sight of him—his narrow hips, the dark hair at the base of his staff, the tight sacks of his testicles, as well as his fully engorged penis—was enough to leave Jo panting in expectation.

  “Now,” he said in a commanding voice, his eyes burning with lust. “Remove that chemise and brace yourself against my bed to receive your punishment.”

  Jo’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t think of a thing to say. She studied him, chewing her lip, trying to determine whether he was serious. And if he was serious, what did he intend to do with her? Her education at the East India Company’s house caused several suggestions to spring to mind. All of them ended with her being impaled by his enormous manhood, though. If she did as he asked, she wouldn’t leave the room with her virtue intact.

  That thought propelled her forward. Cheeks blazing hot, sex throbbing, and morals crumbling around her, she pulled her chemise up over her head and tossed it aside before reaching his bed.

  “H-how do you want me?” she asked, trembling from head to foot.

  “Face the bed,” he said. “Legs apart. Bend forward.”

  She did as he asked, her heart in her throat. The result was that she stood with her naked backside boldly presented to him as she braced her arms on the bed. She gasped when he came to stand directly behind her and thrust his hips against hers. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the pain of penetration, but instead he merely teased her by stroking the wet folds of her sex with his cock. The sensation was strange but wonderful, especially when he angled himself to rub against her clitoris. Within seconds, she was wriggling against his movements, attempting to guide him to her entrance.

  “Stay still,” he ordered, bending over her to close her body in the cage of his own. “We’ve a long way to go before I give you what you want.”

  “It’s what you want too,” she told him over her shoulder.

  She didn’t know what made her say something so bold, but the result was captivating. He tensed against her, his hips thrusting as if on their own. She could feel his breath in short pants against her neck. He kept his hips pinned against hers, his penis tight between her legs, as he stroked her sides. His hands found her breasts and squeezed them, working her already sensitive nipples until her whole body felt as though it would burst into flame.

  His hands moved to pull the pins from her hair. He tossed them aside, running his fingers through her locks to loosen her hair around her shoulders.

  “I love the color of your hair,” he hummed against her ear. “Auburn, like a sunset at sea.”

  His hands raked across her back and around to her sides and breasts again. His hips were still pinned firmly against hers, leaving Jo feeling strangely helpless. There were so many carnal things he could do to her in that position, things she wouldn’t have been able to stop him from doing.

  “What do you want?” he asked, his voice taking on a hard edge. “Do you want straps? Do you want to be lashed to the bed? Tied up? Do you want the spreader bar? Clamps? Should I use my hands or would you prefer a flail or the riding crop? I have a whip, but I can’t guarantee my skill with it at this time.”

  The desire that had been building so steadily in Jo withered. “Is that what you think I want?” she asked breathlessly, glancing over her shoulder as best she could.

  She could just barely see his face i
n the corner of his vision, but it was enough to see the confused, almost tortured look that entered his eyes.

  “Isn’t that why you’re really here?” he asked. “Surely the diamond thing is just a ruse. You’ve heard about my skills and have come to test them for yourself.”

  Jo shook her head slightly. “What skills?”

  “Lord Lichfield,” he said, a certain harshness in his tone. “He can make you cry and come harder than you ever have at the same time.” He sounded as though he was quoting someone else. “He can raise welts on your backside and make you beg for more. He is a demon lover who will spoil you for other men even as he robs you of the ability to sit for a week.”

  Jo frowned and shook her head. “I don’t want any of that,” she said.

  He let out a frustrated breath and jerked away from her. Jo twisted to lie on her back only to see him shoving a hand through his hair. Something had upset him, but as much as she scrambled to think, she couldn’t figure out what it was.

  “What do you want from me?” he demanded, agitated. “What will you take this time?”

  Jo was in the most indefensible position possible, both physically and morally. She lay splayed and naked on his bed, an intruder who had been thrust on him by his mother and her own silly ideas about diamond thieves. But at that moment, her heart understood things that her head could only wonder at.

  “You,” she said, uncertain where her courage or her emotion came from. “I just want you.”

  He went very still, his eyes wide as he studied her. The pain and frustration in his expression changed slowly to a different kind of hurt and a vulnerability that was so intimate she thought she should look away. But no, for better or for worse, the man in front of her would be her husband. She would treat him as such, starting immediately.

  Tension filled his expression once more, and he surged back onto the bed, covering her body with his and pinning her arms at her sides. “Is this truly what you want?” he asked. “A seedy, used up rake who hurts women for pleasure?”