by Raine Miller
A sacrificial virgin upon the altar of a demon cult. A handsome aristocrat to the rescue. A speedy wedding. An eager bridegroom. An innocent bride.
Lord Blackwood embarks into matrimony with his virginal bride in great anticipation. He knows one thing is true. Before the night is over his lovely obsession will be a virgin no more.
Lord Blackwood’s Virgin is the first story in the WEDDING NIGHT DIARIES, a series of fan- fiction inspired novellas giving the reader a "behind-the-keyhole" account of the wedding night adventures of some famous couples you may already know, but if you don't you'll soon know a lot more about them than you ever imagined. *snickering*
***CONTENT RATING***
This book is intended for mature readers, 18 years and older, due to language and scenes of a—shall we say…intimate nature? *more snickering*
THIS book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
NO part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Copyright © 2015 Raine Miller Romance as Vivienne Wilmont
All rights reserved.
Cover Design: Art by Karri
Table of Contents
Author’s Note
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
EPILOGUE
A REQUEST
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Author’s Note
From the moment I saw the opening scene in the Sherlock Holmes movie (2009) I was spellbound by the virgin on the altar about to kill herself under a Satanic-induced hypnotic curse. I wanted to know more about what happened to her after she was saved by Holmes and Watson, but we were never told her name, nor was she seen again in the film.
The inclusion of that particular scene into Lord Blackwood’s Virgin is based in part on real events that took place in Victorian London during a time when there was a renewed interest in paganism and practitioners of the dark arts carrying out ceremonial rites in secret organizations known as Hellfire Clubs.
I should also come clean and share with you that I’ve been proudly holding a clandestine torch for the fictional Lord Blackwood since I watched him in the movie, and even though he was the villain throughout, and met a villain’s well-deserved end, I desperately wanted him to be someone different for me. So I wrote this little fan fiction about him and the virgin on the altar for my own amusement. (It is nothing like the film in case you’re wondering.)
I hope you enjoy reading about my Lord Blackwood and his ‘virgin’ as much as I enjoyed writing it.
PROLOGUE
1890
London
Celeste felt nothing but heaviness. Not in the way of something pressing upon her body, but a dreadful weight so dense it made her immobile, unable to help herself in any way. She desperately tried to strain against the bindings securing her legs but knew it was futile even as she made the effort. Her mind knew enough to understand she was bound and spread out indecently upon a cold stone slab, but not much more was possible from her fogged and tormented brain.
The rhythmic hum of chanting voices swirled all around her as did the pungent smoke of what seemed to be some type of burning herb. The churning smoke stung her eyes and coated her throat, and just as she was incapable of moving an inch, also the same for speaking. No sound formed off her tongue despite how hard she tried to force the words out. All she could do was breathe in the smoky air and come to terms with where she was, but as the minutes passed her tension eased until she floated somewhere above her body, or so it seemed. Every sensation felt odd…and wrong.
What was that chanting? The words were nothing she could comprehend but for one element. Evil. There was evil intent contained within their vocalized verses. This she understood perfectly although she couldn’t see who uttered the strange sounds coming at her from all around.
Was she to die? For what purpose had she been laid out upon a block of stone and tied down? Why couldn’t she speak, or move her body with any direct purpose? Why couldn’t she remember by what means she’d been brought to this place? And by whom? It was odd and she knew her mind wasn’t right, but the strangest sensation of all for her was the lack of fear for whatever would happen to her. Celeste understood she was helpless, nothing but a mere pawn in the dealings unfolding tonight, but oddly did not fear her plight.
Strange…so strange was her easiness with the events in play.
A hard object was placed into her left hand, her fingers made to grip around the smooth shaft until it was secure in her grip. Then her arm was raised up as high as it would go above her chest. But who raised it up? She was unable to decipher if it had been of her own doing or if another was somehow controlling her body to move at their demand.
Nothing was as it seemed and for that she wanted to scream in frustration.
Celeste concentrated on the object in her hand until she could make it out. A heavy blade of obsidian. A very sharp and pointed blade suspended above her body, and secured by her own hand no less. The chanting increased to a plaintive wailing that rattled in her brain as comprehension dawned of what she was meant to do.
She would let go of the blade at the moment the chanting ceased. This was her signal. How she knew this was again, a complete mystery. The chanting would stop, her fingers would come away from the hilt of the knife, and down it would fall…and the blade would pierce her heart—
But it did not happen that way.
In the instant the unholy murmuring ended, a shot rang out to shatter the silence. The knife was knocked from her hand and clattered to the floor as her arm fell away. Shouting and commotion erupted from all corners, the harsh sounds echoing off the thick stone walls, but still she wasn’t afraid. Celeste knew someone had come to stop the evil from happening. Someone had saved her from an early death.
And she owed him absolutely everything…
Strong arms held her close, in fact, carried her along until the air cleared of the heavy smoke she’d been forced to breathe in the ritual. Celeste didn’t know how much time had passed but instinct told her she was safe in the arms of her savior. He smelled wonderful, and she did not feel the chill while pressed against his body even though nothing more than a thin shift covered her. She realized a heavy garment blanketed her body and that was why she felt so warm. His coat?
She dug into the front of his shirt with her fingers, clinging to him desperately, thinking she would never let go.
“Don’t be afraid, you’re in safe hands now,” he said in a stern voice.
The sound of him speaking did not match the kindness of his actions and stirred her from her peace.
“Who are you?” she choked out in a rasp, grateful she could speak once again, but kept her head burrowed into his shirt, almost afraid to look at him.
“James Blackwood.”
She braved a glance as he peered down, the swift pace of his full strides never slowing a nick as he swept her to safety, carrying her as if she weighed no more than a wet blanket. She knew who he was for she’d seen pictures and heard mention of him in the newspapers, and paired with the name he’d just given her she could put two and two together. Everyone probably knew who he was unless they were a simpleton. Her sa
vior was none other than…the Earl of Blackwood.
Good heavenly Lord all right!
As she took her first look at him, Celeste realized that Lord Blackwood was someone she would never forget as long as she lived.
More to the truth was she couldn’t have forgotten him if she tried.
Wide shoulders topped a tall frame exuding strength and masculine power at every aspect. Thick hair as dark as the night had been clubbed back and showed a widow’s peak at his crown. Noble cheekbones framed a chiseled jaw set in a hard line at his mouth. His dark brown eyes were beautiful—warm even, but paired with the severity of his features appeared almost out of place on him. They flared wide as he studied her intently.
It’s the one thing she would always remember with complete clarity from that awful night. James’ deep, dark, beautiful eyes devouring her.
And she was utterly bewitched by him.
CHAPTER 1
Lady Blackwood looked as lusciously beautiful as she had the first time James had laid his eyes upon her. Well, maybe not quite as radiant as she looked at this moment in time, considering she was dressed in her bridal finery of silk and lace.
No, the first time he’d seen her, Celeste hadn’t been at her best at all. Still beautiful though.
In that dreadful London grotto where she’d been at the mercy of a debauched company of men with intent to do—
To do what? He still didn’t even know what their complete intentions were. To render her a sacrifice upon the pagan altar of some demonic god of the underworld for the sole entertainment of men with too much money and time on their hands? To use her blood for some further heathen ritual? There were some very depraved creatures slithering around in the underbelly of London for certain. At least the men from that night could now look forward to burning in hell. Their Hellfire Club was indeed a literal one. James couldn’t hold back his amusement at his own joke and grinned. Celeste had been chosen for their unholy works exclusively on the qualification of her chastity. Apparently only a virgin would do for their ritualistic dealings.
An innocent young beauty, pure and untouched.
Picturing the scene of that night in his head, he had to suppress a shudder. If he’d arrived even a moment later it would have been too late for his Celeste. The participants had drugged her with a potion that took over her mind to the point she would’ve buried the blade into her own heart if he’d not interrupted at an opportune moment.
Thank the gods he’d arrived when he had.
But how he came to be there is a story for another time. James chose to think of it as fate’s divine interaction and accepted his gift for what it was to him—something very precious.
The truth of the matter was, he had discovered her plight in time to save her. And once he’d seen what she was about to do to herself he’d sprang into action with no other thought than she needed help. The rest came later. What had begun as an investigation into a friend’s murder had evolved into sleuthing of a sort, which had led him down into that hellish labyrinth in the first place.
His friend’s mysterious death was now exposed, the murderers dispatched into the capable hands of justice, and somehow when all was said and done, James had found himself a wedded man. To the lovely vision sitting across from him no less.
Which brought him right back to the state of affairs at hand.
In his life he’d bedded a great deal of women, but for those that fell into two categories—wives and virgins.
He had steered clear of both for very good reason.
The bedding of other men’s wives was a problematic undertaking at best, and virgins…well, they had to be the most goddamn mysterious breed of female on the earth, not that he had any personal experience with one.
Yet, he was in possession of both now, and a marriage certificate with the ink barely dry to prove it. One virginal wife sitting quietly across from him, her blue-gray silk skirt splayed out in the carriage seat with her hands clasped gracefully on her lap. His mouth watered as he admired her silently.
Celeste was so beautiful it was difficult to take his eyes off her for even an instant as he fell into rampant lusting again. The chestnut brown hair arranged with a few long curls trailing over one shoulder and resting upon the succulent swell of her creamy breast. The pink, lush bottom lip she’d just licked. The hollow of her throat that pulsed delicately whenever she swallowed. He wanted to kiss and touch and take. Her. Every part of her.
All of Celeste was so painfully tempting to him it was just as equally painful to remember she was an untried virgin who knew nothing of what he wanted to do to her. I’ll have to teach her how to fuck…
He might die before he got to do any of it, though, he thought glumly.
James stretched out a leg to help ease the effects of uncomfortably tightening bollocks and a stiffening cock, and tried to relax.
Which lasted about two seconds before his mind set to dreaming about what lay below the opulent silks covering his lovely bride.
He could slide his hands up underneath her voluminous skirts if he wanted to. He had half a mind to sample her tits just to quell his curiosity of how beautiful they must be. He didn’t remember ever wanting a woman like he wanted Celeste. And they were completely private inside this coach. James didn’t need reminding that he had the legal rights to do whatever he wished with his new wife.
And hell, he so very much wished to do a great many things to her.
James had thought Celeste a beauty since the first time he ever saw her. There was a goodly portion of her on display that night when she’d been laid out upon a makeshift altar about to kill herself dressed only in undergarments. At the time he’d moved quickly, with no other thought than a damsel in distress needed rescuing. James had certainly never dreamed the damsel would belong to him a mere three weeks later.
But she does.
Her parents had been so grateful to him for saving their daughter, they’d nearly danced with glee when he’d called the following day to see how she was feeling after her ordeal. They probably thought their metaphorical ship had indeed come sailing into port with all canons firing. An earl paying court to their daughter enriched their standing in society as well as their pockets. Lord Blackwood was no dunce, and neither was Mr. DuBois.
But as the days passed, he’d found himself unable to keep away from his mesmerizing damsel. Thoughts of Celeste DuBois had filled his head until nothing would do but to make her his. There was also the worry that whoever had imperiled her to begin with would seek out to do it again because she still retained her coveted virtuous status. If Satanists were sacrificing virgins in London, then the only way to truly ensure Celeste’s complete safety was to relieve her of that commodity which put her at risk.
After this night, Celeste would be a virgin no more, and the remaining scattered fiends would know it. She would be worthless in their eyes.
But not to me.
Something about her untouched beauty had touched his hardened heart—more like reached in and grabbed it from his chest still beating. And James wanted to protect her from any nasty gossip mongers whispering here and there about a pagan cult having abducted her and acted out their depravity. Of course they had not, and James would know because he’d been there and seen with his own eyes. He was well aware how people loved to speculate and titillate themselves into a frenzy at another’s expense. Well, it wasn’t going to be at his Lady Blackwood’s expense! No, the need to protect her had polarized him into immediate action to make her his wife before any other person could swoop in and take her away.
So he’d given her his proposal to which she’d shyly accepted, much to his relief, and with the hearty blessings of her father.
He was in need of a countess to provide him with the future Lord Blackwood after all, even if marriage hadn’t been in his sights at all a mere month ago. Far from it. He’d been happily ensconced in the libertine ways of bachelorhood typical for the men of his class. Typical, but not that interesting, and drolly predic
table.
Celeste, on the other hand, was interesting to him, and nothing even close to predictable. James never knew what she was thinking with her gentle demeanor and shy smiles. She was not a woman to wear her heart on her sleeve so he really didn’t know what was going on in that pretty head of hers. Her gentleness only served to maintain her quiet mystery and attractiveness. What did she think of being married to him he wondered as he admired her from the seat across from him. Was she pleased to be the new Countess Blackwood? She was very young and undoubtedly had a great deal to learn about her new duties as his wife. The first of which was to bear him an heir…
Somehow his thoughts kept returning to contemplations of taking her to his bed and working on making that yet-to-come-heir a reality. Hopeless…
Baskerville Hall would be in their sights in another hour or so he judged from the scenery they were now passing as he glanced through the glass.
He turned back to his bride and inhaled the fragrance of her perfume, catching the fresh sweetness of orange and honeysuckle blended together in the most delightful combination.
And James was struck with the hard realization that he’d not survive another hour if he couldn’t have her close and up against him...
CHAPTER 2
One moment James was sitting across from her in the coach, his mouth tipping up in a rare smile as he studied her thoroughly, and in the next he was right beside her. He took her chin in his hand and tilted her lips toward him. She knew he was going to kiss her again and held her breath in anticipation, appreciating the planes of his handsome face as he descended. Celeste loved James’ kisses, but to be fair there had only been a few since their engagement. Now that they were married she hoped he might kiss her more often.
He was so close she could feel the heat radiating from his wide chest as he pressed in, his beautiful mouth sinking down and covering hers with determined lips. Hot, wet, and demanding was how she would describe his kiss. It was nothing like any kiss he’d ever given her before, either, as his hard body crowded into her softer one.
