Phantasmagoria

by Madelynne Ellis

  ‘Then do something.’ She wasn’t sure in the flickering firelight, but she thought she saw a tear run down his cheek and across his parted lips.

  Raffe could barely credit where he was. It seemed as unreal as Pennerley’s phantasms. Bella straddled his hips, her head thrown back, as she rode him towards climax. He thought she was the most sensual creature he’d ever met. Her whole body responded to each and every touch. He groaned as her quaint sucked him deeper, hardly able to credit that the moment was real and not just some nocturnal fantasy.

  Would she still be his tomorrow? He could only pray.

  Bella trembled. Raffe’s cock filled her, satisfying a burning need, but there was still something missing. No matter how deep he sank himself into her and no matter how hard she rode him, his thrusts alone just didn’t seem to be enough. She wanted more, much more, things she knew only Vaughan could provide. He understood her. He didn’t even need words to turn her on, just the touch of him and the smell of him. She only had to see him and her mind turned to sex. Vaughan had a way of rubbing against her that made her heart turn over and her insides knot with desire, and as for what he was capable of doing to her with his tongue … well, there was simply no comparison.

  ‘Oh, Bella!’ Raffe groaned. ‘You’re so fine, so fine. Come, please come.’

  He jerked his hips up into her, knocking her off balance so that she fell forwards against his chest. Bella grabbed his hands and held him down against the mattress. She slid herself back and forth along his pole until his eyes started to glaze. The angle was good but she needed something else. Bella closed her eyes and let it slide mercilessly into her thoughts.

  In the dark of her mind, their positions were reversed. Vaughan knelt above her, with her hands pinned above her head by one of his. He didn’t speak, just gazed at her while driving himself into her.

  He sucked greedily at her breasts while his loins slapped mercilessly against hers. Bella cried out each time he filled her until her gasps became one glorious keen as she reached her peak.

  Raffe rolled them over and pulled out. His grey eyes were as wide as saucers as he took his cock in hand and finished himself off with several rapid strokes so that his come spilled across her stomach in pearly jets.

  Bella smiled as he mopped the sticky mess from her skin with a lacy kerchief. What was it with ‘fine gentlemen’ these days? They’d never been so reluctant to come inside her in the past.

  22

  AFTER HE LEFT Niamh to rest, Vaughan shunned his own room and paced through the long dreary corridors of the castle. The portraits mocked him. The wind keened her name. Bella. He wanted her but couldn’t bear the thought of her. He wanted to be able to blame her, to lay the tatters of his relationship with Lucerne at her door, but the truth was that it was not anyone’s fault. They had all hidden aspects of themselves from each other. They had never spoken of the future; they’d simply existed, as if in a fairytale realm from which they’d never wake. Nobody could live like that for ever, him least of all.

  He’d walked the length of the great hall perhaps six or seven times before he finally halted at the base of the stair and raised his head towards the balcony. Long shadows made the platform nestled among the wooden rafters almost invisible. He’d taken her at both ends of these worn stairs, right there on the balcony, his body pressed to hers and his fingers in her cunt, and here, his vision shifted, at the base, with her bottom rudely displayed. He wanted her now, his desire a still persistent ache. But he still felt angry with her. She’d chased him here, and then let her feelings rise too close to the surface. He hadn’t wanted that from her. He’d wanted it from Lucerne.

  Vaughan put a foot on the bottom step. There was no reason to race up there. Lord knows what he’d find. Bile rose up his throat at the thought of finding her in the midst of passion with Devonshire. His body’s response confused him further. He’d seen her with Lucerne often enough, why should the thought of her with another man bother him so much? Unless he really did care.

  He prodded his own feelings a bit but he knew the answer.

  Vaughan glided up the stairs, a deeper shadow in the gloom, then paused in the inky darkness outside her door. Relying on the laudanum to get him through the spectacle of the phantasmagoria had been foolish, its embrace a seductive, compelling and lunatic world of shades and illusion. He knew he couldn’t continue like that, trying to blot out the pain. He had to face some of it. He’d made a mess of things.

  Facing Bella’s love was the first step. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t realised there was a bond between them that went beyond a shared desire for Lucerne. Hell, hadn’t they admitted as much just before they left Lauwine? Vaughan shook his head. Life had seemed a whole lot simpler then. They should have stayed there. Even if it had been hellish cold.

  The door opened with barely a creak. He hesitated momentarily on the threshold before he remembered he was master of his own house.

  Raffe was naked, his broad hairy chest on display and his solid limbs sprawled across the bed, taking up virtually its entire surface. He felt no envy for his rival. He felt very little of anything other than disgust for his unbearable maleness. Thankfully, the sheets covered his genitals. The man was a beast with his layers of finery peeled away, all vulgar hair and muscle.

  Bella, in contrast, was curled in a small protective ball in the bottom corner of the bed. No blissful curling like spoons closeness for them. A stray curl lay against her cheek, which he gently tucked behind her ear. What are you doing here, he wondered, though he was at a loss as to whom he was asking, her or himself.

  Her breathing was ragged, her chemise damp beneath his fingertips as he traced the swell of her breast. The urge to take her, to possess her completely and leave marks upon her slender throat hit him like a wave. It sent him reeling onto his heels.

  Vaughan straightened, his jaw clenched tight. He knew what he had to do. What he wanted to do. A smile trembled upon his lips. Then he bent and scooped her from the bed up into his arms.

  His second moonlit walk through the sleeping castle was more purposeful. Bella’s head lay cradled against his chest, her breathing more even. Her long hair spilled over his arm in an auburn wave. She smelled curiously clean, not of sex but of lavender soap, and of something else, something he couldn’t quite place, sharp and vaguely metallic.

  The narrow winding stairs up to his room represented something of a challenge, but he managed, though she was stirring by the time he reached his bed. ‘Bella,’ he whispered, as he smoothed out her hair and her nightdress. He kissed her nose, then trailed his lips down her body. ‘Ah,’ he said, realisation dawning as he reached her quim. Well, that certainly made things more interesting. ‘Bella,’ he whispered again, and covered her face and breasts in kisses.

  Bella languished in a half-wakeful realm of nonsensical images. She knew she’d lain down to sleep beside Raffe after washing his essence from her skin, but she didn’t seem to be in her room any more. She turned her head upon the pillow. The shadows didn’t make sense. The bed … Her bed didn’t have curtains. Nor was it made of blackened oak. For a moment she imagined herself back in London, waking from a horrid dream, but the bed was more lavishly detailed than the one the three of them had shared, and it smelled not of their combined scent but of Vaughan …

  ‘Are you awake?’ His lips troubled her earlobe and she sensed his presence above her.

  ‘Where am I?’

  ‘My bed.’

  Bella raised herself up a fraction, but she could make little out beyond his vague silhouette, upon which her memory painted a likeness. He must have carried her here. Taken her from the bed beside Raffe. Her heart beat a little faster at the thought of what Vaughan might have done, and what he had planned for her. He’d been a swine to her. She had to expect something else unkind. ‘Can we not have some light?’

  ‘If it pleases.’ His voice was soft. Not tense and hard as it had been earlier or as she expected. He reached out a hand and peeled away the blackness. W
ith the drape drawn back against the bedpost, the light from the fireplace spilled over them in a warm orange glow. Vaughan’s hair shone like spun black silk, his pale skin glowing with a fragile luminescence.

  Her breath hitched in her throat. He was completely naked, not even the locket adorning his throat. She reached out and touched the scar across his abdomen. ‘What did you bring me here for?’

  He stretched himself over her and looked down into her eyes. His were twin black pools. ‘Is it not obvious? I’m going to give you what you asked for.’

  The muscles twitched across the back of her shoulders. ‘Bastard,’ she hissed between her teeth. ‘What game are you playing with me?’

  ‘No game, not tonight.’ His breath whispered warm and sweet over her lips. ‘Will you let me kiss you, Bella?’

  She had to laugh at that. ‘You’ve never needed permission before.’

  Vaughan tilted his head to one side and smiled unguardedly at her, inviting her pity and forgiveness. She didn’t really feel anger towards him, her feelings were too muddled for any single emotion to dominate, but his smile was stripping that away, making her want to take him in her arms and hold him tight.

  ‘Very well, kiss me.’

  She parted her lips, but he didn’t seek her mouth but her throat. His tongue tickled over the pulse-point, sending shivers of expectation through her limbs. Then he sucked, hard, and she flopped like a rag doll in his arms, unable to move or resist, hardly able to breathe. It hurt. He was marking her. The feel of his teeth sent a ripple of fear and excitement shooting through her body. Her breasts tingled, her nipples rasped against his chest and, lower, she grew moist.

  Finally he released her and she sucked down a great shuddering gasp of air. Now she wanted his lips. His mouth on hers, but Vaughan’s kiss moved down her body. He threw her chemise up over her face, while he teased her nipples then licked the undersides of her breasts. Bella panted into the cotton covering her face as his tongue dipped into her navel, then moved lower to where she was desperate to feel him.

  His tongue flicked mercilessly until she opened like a flower and her clitoris peeped from its hood, eager and attentive. He kissed her cunt with the same intensity he’d lavished upon her throat, so that she writhed upon the bed, hot and wanting, her hands tangled in his hair.

  Every single part of her craved penetration.

  ‘Vaughan, make love to me, please!’ She bit her lip, afraid he would deny her yet again.

  Vaughan raised his head. ‘I am, with my tongue.’ And he was, God damn him. She dug her fingers into his scalp, but that only made him work harder. It was evil what he could do with his tongue, bringing her to the boil with a few simple strokes.

  She came, shaking and clawing at him. Still aching for his cock.

  Vaughan slithered up her body like an exotic snake until he covered her from shoulders to toes and his erection lay like lance against her thigh. She wriggled, trying to manoeuvre him closer, but he pressed his weight upon her.

  ‘Delicious.’

  Bella looked at him, a strangled cry forcing its way from her throat. There was blood in his mouth and smeared across his lips. What was he? What sort of creature had he become? The tale of the blood curse ran through her head. Was there truth in the legend after all?

  Frightened, she touched her fingers to the bruise he’d left upon her throat.

  Vaughan rubbed at his mouth, leaving a bloody streak across the back of his hand.

  ‘My menses,’ she groaned in sudden realisation. Why now?

  ‘Shhh,’ Vaughan soothed, and he pressed a silencing finger to her lips. ‘What’s a little blood between us?’

  ‘It’s messy,’ she gasped.

  ‘I like messy.’

  Of course he did. Everything he did was complicated and disordered. Besides, she didn’t just want him. She craved him. ‘It’ll ruin the sheets,’ she said as a last pretence of civility.

  Vaughan threw his head back and laughed. ‘I have more sheets. And even if I didn’t …’ All in a rush, he entered her, filling her up in one divine thrust. ‘You’re mine, little bird,’ he said, and he rolled his hips. Bella twined her calves around his thighs and rose to meet his thrusts. Deeper. She wanted him deeper. The bed groaned beneath them. Vaughan wrestled her nightgown over her head and twisted the fabric so that it bound her wrists, stopping her from clawing at his back. ‘You know this is how it will be,’ he said, ‘if you’re mine. Obsessive, cruel … demanding. You don’t know the half of what I expected of Lucerne.’

  Didn’t she. She’d spied on them often enough when they’d tried to lock her out of their relationship, and she’d seen them fighting, tearing at each other. Hadn’t she always craved what they shared? Hadn’t she begged for the same treatment?

  Vaughan thrust into her, taking her mercilessly. Possessing her. Filling her.

  ‘Harder,’ she panted. She was climbing again. Any minute she was going to come and she wanted him to come too.

  His teeth grazed her throat, causing the bite mark to ache. Every nerve seemed to connect, then explode. Black heat consumed her. The muscles in her quaint clenched around him, drawing him deeper, his body taut as a bowstring against hers. She watched him arch away from her; his head tossed wildly, while his cock bucked and he spilt his seed inside her in great shuddering jerks.

  Finally he collapsed against her and she nuzzled against his cheek. ‘I love you, Vaughan,’ she whispered.

  He stiffened very slightly, then the muscles across his back unknotted and he kissed her deeply and slowly. ‘I know. I may even love you too.’

  Bella wrinkled her nose at him, but he merely licked it in return.

  For that, she poked him in the ribs and then smeared kisses across his face.

  23

  IN THE HALF-LIGHT before dawn, Bella stirred, her vivid imagination having painted a wonderful and preposterous image of her embraced within Vaughan’s arms. Sleepily, she squinted into the darkness. Vaughan lay next to her on the pillow, his dark ringlets spilled around him like a tarnished halo. She reached out and touched his soft skin, amazed to find the image didn’t fracture. A smile crept across her lips and she snuggled into his shoulder.

  When she next woke, she was alone in the bed.

  Bella sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The heavy curtains were drawn around the bed, completely obscuring the room. She fished around for her shift but failed to find it. Cautiously, she stuck an arm out from the curtains to feel for it on the floor.

  ‘You’re awake.’

  Bella stuck her head out between the gap. There were no servants in the room, just Vaughan, reclining before the fire in a bathtub. Curls of steam rose and swirled in the air above him, while rose petals formed tiny boats across the surface of the water. His arm lay along the edge of the tub and he beckoned her with the curl of his fingers.

  ‘My shift?’ she enquired.

  ‘Needs a wash.’ Bella frowned and eyed the distance between the bed and the bathtub dubiously. She gave the door a wary glance, then scuttled across the floor and stepped into the tub, causing water to splash over the sides in choppy waves. She curled her legs up before her and stared at the rose petals bobbing on the surface. She felt awkward. It had been easy to imagine the future while he was embracing her, but with all the phantasms dissolved by daylight, the way forward suddenly seemed wrought with peril.

  Vaughan’s reflection shimmered before her once the water stilled. His expression was guarded and he’d put the locket back on.

  ‘You made love to me,’ she said.

  ‘I did.’ There was no question in his voice, just agreement.

  ‘Will you do it again?’

  ‘That depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On whether you’re going to marry Lord Devonshire.’

  ‘Ah …’ So he’d heard. Had she given Raffe an official answer? Not in words, she’d merely said she hadn’t made a decision, but he could be forgiven for having some expectations after wha
t they’d shared before Vaughan had stolen her away.

  Vaughan’s expression remained guarded. He bowed his head so his hair fell forward over his face in a cascade of damp ringlets. Bella reached out and touched his curls where they lay against his shoulders.

  ‘I haven’t given him an answer.’

  ‘But when you do.’ He looked up at her, his eyes clear and bright, the pupils back to their normal size.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked.

  ‘A great many things, some of which I can’t have.’

  ‘I know.’ She bowed her head again, trying to find the correct words to express herself. ‘From me, I mean.’ She encompassed the room, the bed with a gesture. ‘Is there a future for us, Vaughan?’

  ‘That rather depends on what sort of future you want.’

  Bella bit her lip. He’d always said he wouldn’t marry. There was no reason to suppose that would change just because he no longer had Lucerne. Still, it felt like a rejection on some deep level. But was marriage really what she wanted from him?

  ‘No false promises,’ he said, and his sensual red lips widened into a smile. He tugged her up the length of the bathtub into his arms and kissed her.

  ‘Do you promise you won’t run away again?’

  He grinned and shook his head. ‘Nor can I promise absolute fidelity. There are some urges you simply cannot satisfy. Though you are exceedingly accommodating.’ His fingers curled around the gold pendant that rested against his chest. ‘I understand if you can’t live with that.’

  Bella sucked her tongue. Could she live with it? Not on a regular basis, but Vaughan she thought would be discreet, at least. Most other men would tup the kitchen maids and damn who knew.

  ‘Can I watch sometimes?’

  He spluttered.

  Vaughan splashed her then got out of the bath. Bella watched mesmerised as he stalked across the room, his skin alive with a thousand glittering jewels. He was her jewel.

  ‘You understand that I won’t be going back to town for a while,’ he said as he pulled on a dressing-gown. ‘I’m not disposed to entertain the gossips.’