by EM BROWN
“The guests in the East Wing are often in a state of lesser dress,” Rockwell said as if reading her mind.
They walked the rest of the way in silence. Rockwell appeared grim. He must not have enjoyed himself, she concluded. Surely it was unpleasant to watch another man with the woman he wanted for himself.
“Perhaps we ought not have played whist,” she said as they approached her room.
He looked at her sharply. “I’m sorry you had to endure the consequences.”
“No, I have no regrets. I wanted to experience the East Wing. It was...wanton and thrilling.”
He seemed relieved.
“I only meant that you seemed the least agreeable to it.”
“If it pleased you, Miss Herwood, then I am satisfied. How fares your arse?”
“I think I shall not enjoy sitting tomorrow.”
He grinned. “Perhaps you will think twice before ever accepting a proposition from Lord Devon.”
“Alas, I am prone to accepting improper propositions.”
His gaze bored into her, and without warning, he pinned her against the door with his body. His mouth descended on hers, engulfing her yelp of surprise. He raised both her arms above her, locking her head in position as he devoured her. She could barely catch a breath, and for the moment, she cared not that he wanted the Lady Isabella. He was with her, and she would satisfy him.
She attempted to return his kiss, but he was too much in command, too hungry. She felt the hardness of his desire against her and arched her back, pushing herself further into him. He opened the door, and they tumbled into the darkened room. She fell on top of him, their lips still joined. His left hand cradled her head while his right hand grasped a buttock firmly. She ground herself against his erection.
They kissed as if searching for something within the other to satiate their appetites. Her head spun from the effort to keep up with his forceful exertions. He rolled her beneath him, and moved the one hand from her head to a breast. Her stays had been loosely tied and slipped to allow him access to her nipple. He pinched it gently through her garments. She cried out as the nipple was still sensitive from the clamps.
With a groan, he pulled her up, swept her off her feet, and deposited her upon the bed. Her hands made quick work of his shirt and pants. Remembering his look when she had him in her mouth, she encased his cock once more and sucked hard. She tried to take in as much of him as she could, but her inexperience made her gag when he hit the back of her throat. Forcing herself to relax, she made an attempt with better success. Rockwell emitted an oath and undulated his hips, pushing his cock in and out of her mouth.
He pulled her head away. “You’ll make me spend.”
She stared at him. “That is the intent, my lord.”
Shaking his head, he pushed her into the bed and turned her on her stomach to access the buttons upon her gown and the ribbons of her stays. Soon he had her stripped to the buff once more and on her back. His hands roamed over her body, kneading breasts, gripping hips, and squeezing her buttocks before finding their way between her legs. Still wet from before, she felt slippery to the touch. She enjoyed his caresses there but she wanted him in a deeper way.
“Take me with your cock,” she said in a husky voice beside his ear.
He looked into her eyes as if contemplating the invitation, then slid off the bed. He pulled her to the edge of the bed and spread her thighs wide. His thumb strummed her clitoris, heating the familiar sensations of delight and agitation.
“Take me,” she implored.
“Your servant, Miss Herwood,” he replied, pointing his cock at her cunnie and driving it into her.
Feeling victorious, she willed the muscles in her cunnie to grab at him.
“Good God,” he breathed as he buried himself further into her.
She savored the fullness inside of her before beginning a slow grind of her hips. Propped above her, he buried his face in the crook of her neck as he moved his lower body in rhythm, thrusting in and out. He mouthed her neck and planted kisses along her shoulder. She arched her back and jerked herself harder against him. He responded by pushing himself up off of her and tossing her ankles over his shoulders. Wrapping an arm around her legs to hold them in place, he shoved his cock deep into her.
“Oh!” she cried as he buried himself to the hilt.
The penetration struck new areas within her.
“Harder,” she instructed.
He withdrew, then rammed himself back in.
“Ah!”
He repeated several times until she clutched the sheets beneath her. Her climax began to build. He quickened his pace. She marveled that he could exhibit such force from this part of his body. The bed shook and creaked from their actions. Her breasts bounded up and down.
As her ecstasy loomed, she wondered that she could ever be with any other man. Her abdomen clenched as the most divine sensations ricocheted wildly inside of her. Her body could no longer contain them. She screamed as they raked through her.
He shoved himself at her, his cock seeking her womb. She felt something hot spilling into her. He shuddered, then bucked his hips against her a few more times. Perspiration glistened upon his brow. After withdrawing, he collapsed onto the bed beside her, his breathing hard. She pulled her legs onto the bed.
“Much obliged,” she murmured.
She felt spent but triumphant. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to him.
“Chateau Follet suits you well, Miss Herwood,” he replied.
Chapter Sixteen
“VOTRE MADEMOISELLE EST si jolie,” Marguerite remarked to Halsten, who stood overlooking the grounds from the veranda where the lady of the house was hosting morning tea for several guests.
He turned to look where Miss Herwood sat at the table. The sun had found its way through the clouds at that moment. Miss Herwood seemed to radiate the rays that shone upon her. Her eyes sparkled with uncommon brightness and her cheeks bore a natural flush. When he had first spotted her in the gaming hall over a year ago, he had thought her rather plain, but the more he observed of her, the more she intrigued him. This morning, he thought her uncommonly pretty.
In many ways, he wanted to forget as much of last night as possible. The vision of Lord Devon atop Isabella would make him cringe for years to come. But there were moments he would come back to over and over again. Surprisingly, one of those moments was when he held Miss Herwood in his arms while she slept, listening to the rhythm of her breath, feeling it upon his chest. The full sensation blossoming in his bosom was not one he had felt since he was a young man who had fallen in love for the first time.
The desire to hold Miss Herwood forever troubled him. He had hoped his time with her at Chateau Follet would satiate his craving for her, not enhance it. He had the sinking suspicion it would be even harder to overcome his feelings this time, but overcome it he would, in time. As if to prove this fact, he had extricated himself from Miss Herwood, dressed, and returned to the East Wing to see Isabella safely ensconced in her own chambers.
As if sensing his gaze upon her, Miss Herwood looked up and smiled at him over her teacup. He felt his heart swell and would return her smile, but Lord Devon appeared with Isabella upon his arm.
“Blasted bright out here,” he cried and seemed strangely pleased by this pronouncement.
Halsten felt his jaw tighten as he watched the pair sit down. Miss Herwood, perhaps recalling the events of last night, shifted in discomfort and placed her attention upon her tea.
“Ah, Miss Herwood,” Lord Devon noted, “I take it you slept well after the events of last night?”
Halsten went to stand near Miss Herwood.
“And you, too, Halsten,” Devon smirked.
Isabella covered a large yawn. “I was fatigued beyond words. I think I could have slept for two more hours if one very naughty gentleman had not disturbed my slumber.”
Halsten clenched a hand but was saved from further distress by the appearance of a footman.
<
br /> “A letter for Lord Devon arrived by courier,” the man said.
Startled, Devon took the letter and opened it. His countenance darkened as he read its contents.
“Bad news, Lord Devon?” Marguerite inquired.
“No, no. It is a note from the Earl,” Devon explained, rising to his feet. “My father wishes to speak with me. I regret that I must end my stay earlier than I would have wished.”
Isabella looked incredulous. “You are leaving? Now?”
“Yes. My sincere apologies.”
“But—”
Devon bowed to her, then to the hostess, and hastened from the veranda. For the first time since Halsten had set eyes on Devon the chateau, he took in a peaceful breath.
“Worry not, mademoiselle,” Marguerite said to Isabella, clearly still taken aback by Devon’s abrupt departure, “you are welcome to stay as long as you wish. And if you require an escort, I have many options for you.”
“Thank you, Madame.”
To her guests, Marguerite said, “I am having a new sculpture installed in my garden. Who here will join me in a stroll?”
Miss Herwood looked to Halsten.
“Please,” he encouraged. “I will join you in a moment.”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. He could not keep the affection out of his eyes, nor did he care to make such an effort at the moment, but her gaze was upon Isabella.
“Yes, my lord,” Miss Herwood replied and rose to follow Marguerite and the other guests.
When they had left the veranda, he approached Isabella, who stared into her tea. “I think it best if you return to your father. Madame can part with a carriage and footman for the day.”
Isabella looked up. “I think I shall stay.”
Halsten stared at her in disbelief.
“In the East Wing,” she added.
He did not bother to hide his frown.
“I have met many a friendly person here. The Chateau is quite the intriguing place.”
“If you left now, your presence here may yet go undetected.”
She waved a hand. “La, Halsten! I am already compromised. It affords me freedom to be merry.”
“It does not give you carte blanche to be careless.”
“Halsten, you really are a wet blanket and quite the hypocrite.”
He bristled at the truth in her words. In truth, he was a hypocrite. He would see Isabella returned safely home and salvage her honor, but he had had no qualms in inviting Miss Herwood to Chateau Follet. While he had known, before he had first propositioned Miss Herwood, that she was no longer in possession of her maidenhead, he need not have risked what little remained of her reputation for his own selfish interests. He vowed to make it up to Miss Herwood and see that she never again had to frequent gaming hells to support her family.
“But if you must play the protector,” Isabella continued, “I will consider returning to my father on one condition.”
“And what is that?”
“That you escort me.”
“I am escorting Miss Herwood back to London tomorrow.”
“Madame can part with a carriage and footman for the day.”
She smiled up at him. Halsten looked away. Perhaps she was not as guileless as she seemed.
This was hardly a part of his plan, which had focused on separating Devon and Isabella. It had worked well. The Earl had been informed anonymously that his son was pursuing the daughter of the Duke of Trent, who was known for his temper and penchant to avenge any slight to his family. Halsten knew Devon to have a healthy fear of his own father and so would not gainsay the Earl.
Halsten had no desire to leave Follet, but he was weary of having to keep an eye on Isabella , and he had but one more day to enjoy his time with Miss Herwood. If Isabella stayed, he could not be assured that she would come to no harm. She was moody and reckless.
If he left, his time with Miss Herwood would be at an end.
He barely wanted to contemplate the thought; yet, a premature end to his association with Miss Herwood was perhaps the wiser course. He was developing far too great an attachment to her. Though his cock wanted nothing more than to be buried deep inside of her once more, and his experience with her in the East Wing had ignited an incredible desire to return there with her, staying another day would simply satisfy his self-indulgent lust.
“Very well,” he said to Isabella. “We depart in two hours’ time. I will inform Miss Herwood.”
“I prefer your company alone.”
He raised a brow at her.
“I admit to being hasty in turning down your solicitations last Season,” she explained. “But having seen you here at the Chateau, you have become a more interesting person. I think we should improve our acquaintance.”
“If you return to Trent in my company alone, there will be talk.”
“If you insist on taking Miss Herwood, I insist on staying.”
“Isabella, you’re being childish.”
She pursed her lips. “Miss Herwood seems quite capable. Given her years, I am sure she is accustomed to handling herself.”
Halsten gave her a stern look, but it was true that he trusted Miss Herwood to be on her own much more than he would trust Isabella.
“I will consider it only if Miss Herwood does not object,” he said.
“She dictates the terms, does she?”
He did not miss the irony, and oddly, he welcomed the opportunity for Miss Herwood to make the decision.
“Unlike Lord Devon, I believe in ensuring that my guests are well cared for. If you will pardon me, I have to attend Miss Herwood.”
He bowed and left Isabella to her frown.
* * * * *
“Leaving? Today?” Deana echoed as she turned to look at Rockwell standing in the doorway to her chamber with his hands behind him.
She had just changed into another gown, for one of Madame Follet’s terriers had leaped upon her in the garden, casting mud on her previous gown.
“If you are amenable,” he said. “You would have use of one of Madame Follet’s carriages, and Bhadra would accompany you all the way to London.”
“And you?”
“I mean to escort Lady Isabella to her father. With Lord Devon gone, she requires someone to look after her.”
That explained it, Deana thought to herself wryly.
“But if you have a wish to stay, I will honor my duty as your host.”
She frowned. He saw her as his duty?
“And as far as I am concerned, you have fulfilled your end of our bargain,” he said. “I will have the balance owed to you deposited into an account within two days’ time.”
“Thank you.”
She pretended to study the options of ribbons for her hair, too consumed with a rush of sadness to look at him. She had not anticipated their time would come to such an abrupt end, but she had no desire to keep him from the Lady Isabella. Why should she not depart? So that she could enjoy his company for one more day? To what end? Parting ways was undoubtedly the wiser course of action.
When she felt she had mastery over her feelings, she said, “If it is convenient for you, my lord, I am amenable to any arrangement you see fit.”
He seemed relieved, and she knew then she had made the right decision. He approached her and held out a box he had been holding behind him.
“I wish to gift you these.”
Opening the lid, he revealed the Indian jewelry she had worn the other day. Her eyes lighted at the sight of the exquisite baubles, but she knew she could not accept.
“Your last gift to me went to a pawnbroker,” she said, embarrassed. “These are too fine for such a fate.”
“Then keep them.”
She would have, but she needed no reminders of him. “Our arrangement was for a hundred pounds. I require—nor wish for—anything more.”
To her surprise, he appeared rather hurt.
“Your generosity, Lord Rockwell, is beyond the pale. You have done enough for me, and I
have enjoyed my stay here beyond expectation.”
Her words seemed to cheer him. He brought her hand to his lips. “Miss Herwood, you are a woman of great exception.”
She smiled. He stared at her intensely. She withdrew her hand.
“I should prepare my valise,” she said, hoping he would leave before her composure diminished.
“Of course.”
He bowed and took his leave. Deana stared at the closed door for several minutes.
Oh dear. She missed him already.
* * * * *
Her time with Lord Rockwell had been short but intense. And as the carriage pulled away from Chateau Follet, Deana willed herself not to be sentimental.
Bhadra was uncommonly talkative, and Deana wondered if Rockwell had instructed the maid to lighten the dullness of the ride back to town. But no one could replace the company of Lord Rockwell. Memories of her time with him kept assaulting her mind—his caresses of her in the beautiful sari, the gallop on horseback, being trussed up to the bed as he ‘punished’ her, their tête-à-tête along the stream, the paddle against her arse, and the feel of him inside of her as her body came undone. She would not soon forget him.
Chapter Seventeen
TO ISABELLA’S APPARENT DISAPPOINTMENT, Halsten insisted on riding alongside the carriage for most of the way to Trent. Toward evening, he rode ahead and found a posting inn to stay at for the night.
During their dinner at the inn, Isabella prattled on about various people they knew. “Elizabeth Marley is being courted by James Thomas, of all people. She was partial to Harry, but he had his eye on that American heiress. You remember her? She had such a dark complexion. I wonder that they do not care as much for their features there?”
Halsten had no interest in conversing and idly wondered if this was what a marriage to Isabella would be like. She seemed interested that he renew his hand, and perhaps now that Miss Herwood was out of his life, he should buckle down and be done with marriage.
But, ah, Miss Herwood. What would it be like to be married to her? Would he be able to stay himself from fucking her all day long? There was so much more he could do with her. To her. His cock stiffened at the thought.
