Sally MacKenzie Bundle

by Sally MacKenzie

  What was the baron doing here at this hour? She had to get rid of him. She looked over his shoulder. Still no sign of Lord Peter.

  “If you are looking for Addington’s whelp, he will not be coming. He had another, ah, engagement. He asked me to take his place.”

  “What?” Lord Peter was not coming? He’d asked Lord Tynweith…. Charlotte felt her cheeks burn. Lord Peter had been discussing what he’d done…had been discussing her…with Tynweith?

  “May I come in? I’d rather not stand here in the hallway. Someone might come along and wonder what I was about.”

  “Yes. All right. Come in.” She definitely did not want any of the house guests—especially Felicity—speculating as to why their host was visiting her room at night. Frankly, she did not want to speculate herself. She trusted he would get to his point eventually. He always had in the past.

  “Where is your maid?”

  “Marie knows she is not needed.”

  He picked up the brandy bottle.

  “Still drinking, Charlotte?”

  “Yes.” Surely he was not angry that Flint had been kind enough to supply her with her own bottle? “Would you like some?” She looked around the room. “I don’t see an extra glass. Perhaps you could get one?” And she could lock the door behind him. He was making her very nervous. Her stomach was shivering in an extremely unsettling fashion.

  He smiled. “I don’t need a glass.”

  “You don’t?” Was he going to drink directly from the bottle?

  He approached her. She backed up—into her closed door. He put his hands on either side of her head.

  Her stomach clenched. He was too close. She closed her eyes. She felt his breath on her cheek. It smelled of brandy, but she knew he wasn’t drunk.

  “Charlotte, love. You know I’m happy to help you. Happy and willing”—he kissed the corner of her closed eye, just a butterfly brush—“and able”—his lips skimmed the spot under her right ear—“and anxious, too, actually.”

  He spoke right above her lips. If she moved her head, tilted her chin just the slightest, their mouths would meet.

  She kept her head perfectly still.

  “Help me?” she whispered.

  “Have a child.”

  Her eyes flew open. “You are joking.”

  “You know I am not. We spoke about it in the garden yesterday, remember?”

  How could she forget? “Lord Peter—”

  “—isn’t here. I am.” His lips pulled into a slow smile. “And I assure you, I possess the equipment necessary to accomplish the task. I am delighted—ecstatic—to put it at your disposal.”

  “Oh.” She wet her lips. She saw his gaze sharpen, focus on her mouth. His eyes looked…hot.

  In some odd manner, he was causing her temperature to rise. Precipitously.

  It could not be healthy. She needed to put some distance between them.

  Tynweith chose that moment to kiss her.

  Oh dear.

  His lips were gentle, slow, unlike Hartford’s or Lord Peter’s. Well, neither of them had bothered much with her mouth. One quick mashing of lips against teeth and they were off to more interesting territory, leaving her with an unobstructed view of the bed canopy.

  This was different. Tynweith was in no hurry. He kept his hands on the door. The only part of him touching her was his mouth. He played with her lips, sucking, licking. And then his tongue slipped inside. It swept through her, filling her, stroking her.

  She braced herself against the door, trusting it to keep her upright.

  She had never felt this way before.

  “Are your nipples hard little nubs, sweetings?”

  They were.

  “Is the secret place between your legs wet? Aching?”

  It was. God, it was.

  “Your body is ready for my seed, Charlotte. Shall I plant it now? Shall I give you a child?”

  She was mindless with need. What was the matter with her? She felt ill, feverish. Out of control.

  She did not care for this feeling at all. It was unsettling. Frightening. She knew in her gut if she let Tynweith do what he wished, something important would change.

  She should say no and send him on his way.

  Her body was weeping for her to say yes.

  She needed a child. If dampness was the key, she would conceive tonight.

  She sighed, letting her resistance drain away.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, please.”

  “Then let me get this lovely dress off you. It is very much in the way, don’t you agree?”

  “My nightdress—”

  “Is totally unnecessary. You are going to be naked, love. I am going to see every inch of your lovely body. I am going to touch every inch. Won’t that be wonderful?”

  No, it would be frightening. Or frighteningly wonderful.

  Her body silenced her mind. She pushed herself away from the door—and felt his fingers on her dress. She stared at his cravat while he loosened her fastenings and let her clothing slip slowly down to her feet.

  She closed her eyes. She was standing before him in only her stockings. She felt the cold air and the heat of the fire on her skin.

  She had never been naked with a man before.

  He touched her gently between her legs and she shuddered.

  “Beautiful.”

  His voice was husky, strained. She looked at him. The heat she’d seen before had ignited. His eyes blazed—but still he didn’t put his body against hers.

  “I think it’s time we went to bed, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Her knees were wobbling.

  “Walk.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can. Please. For me. I want to watch you.”

  Hartford and Lord Peter had snuffed the candles and come to her in darkness. All the light, all the looking…She felt exposed. Shy.

  “I’m skinny.”

  “No, you’re beautiful. Perfect.” He brushed his lips over hers and she felt another rush of dampness between her thighs. “I have lusted for you from the moment I saw you. I’ve pictured your body under mine with every woman I’ve mounted. I am dying to see how far my imagination has fallen short of reality.”

  “If it has.”

  “Oh, it has.” He traced her lips with his finger. Her mouth felt swollen. It opened quite without her volition and he kissed it gently. “I was too rough in Easthaven’s garden, Charlotte. I will not be rough tonight. I will be slow and courteous.” The corner of his mouth crooked up. “At least the first time.”

  “Oh.” Usually she wanted the business over as quickly as possible, but strangely, she was not interested in speed at the moment.

  She stepped away from him. She felt his gaze slide over her skin, touching her everywhere. Her nipples tightened. He smiled.

  “Get into bed, Charlotte.”

  She nodded and walked the length of the room. He was just behind her. Still he didn’t touch her.

  She climbed up onto the mattress and reached for the bedclothes.

  “No.” His hand covered hers and then took the blanket and sheet from her, pulling them down to the bottom of the bed. “We don’t need these.”

  “I’m cold.” She wasn’t, but she should be. She was naked. She tried to cover her breasts and her most private part with her hands.

  His eyes laughed at her.

  “You are? You’ll be very warm in a moment.”

  “No, I—”

  She stopped speaking. Tynweith was untying his cravat. He pulled it free and took her hand from her breast, looping the cravat loosely around her wrist.

  “You must not cover your beauty, Charlotte.” He tied the other end to the bedpost.

  “What are you doing?” Her breath came faster, with fear as much as desire.

  “Don’t be alarmed. You can get free easily if you want. Try—you’ll see.”

  She tried. Tynweith was right. “So why…?”

  “To remind you not to hide. To encourage y
ou to trust me.”

  He slid one of her stockings slowly off her leg and tied her other wrist with it. Then he bent and blew over her nipples. She arched up. Still he would not touch her.

  “I need to feel you….”

  He laughed. “Patience, love. You will feel me soon. Everywhere. On your skin—and in your body.”

  He removed his coat, his waistcoat, his shirt, slowly, methodically while he walked around the bed, looking at her. Occasionally he would bend over and blow on her skin, but he still would not touch her.

  She was on fire. Her nipples ached; the opening between her legs throbbed. She had never felt this way before.

  She had never wanted to see her lover’s body before either. Why should she? Hartford’s was shrunken and bony. Lord Peter’s was like a Greek statue and just as hard and cold. But Tynweith’s…

  His chest was broad, but welcoming. Dark hair narrowed down to a line disappearing under the fall of his pantaloons.

  The fall was bulging. She was actually happy to see that—she shivered with delight. The most delighted part of her wept with eagerness. Her hips arched and twisted on the bed.

  “Now?”

  “Not yet, love. I think you offered me some brandy, didn’t you?”

  “Forget the brandy. Take your pantaloons off.”

  Tynweith laughed. “Charlotte, how bold!”

  She flushed. “I’m sorry, I—”

  He bent over her, putting his finger on her lips. “No, don’t be sorry. I want you to be bold.” His eyes gleamed. “I should reward your boldness, shouldn’t I?”

  “Uh—oh!”

  Tynweith flicked one of her nipples with his tongue. She lifted her back off the bed, offering him more.

  “Again. Please.”

  “You don’t want me to drink brandy from your navel?”

  “No. Not now. Some other time. Take off your clothes.”

  He grinned slowly. “With pleasure.”

  Slowly, too slowly, he undid his buttons and slid his pantaloons over his hips and down his legs. She wanted to shout at him to make haste, she was burning for him.

  Where had this new impatience come from? She shook her head on her pillow, wetting her lips. She could not think about it. She could not think about anything but seeing—touching—Tynweith’s body.

  Finally his drawers slid down, letting his hard length fall free.

  “Ah.” She thought about freeing her hands so she could touch it.

  She had never found that organ attractive, but Tynweith’s was beautiful—thick and long. Larger than Lord Peter’s. Far larger than Hartford’s. She wet her lips again, pulling on her bonds. She wanted to touch it, to stroke it. She was glad it was big. She was empty enough to take it all. She wanted it all now.

  Should she touch him?

  No. He was bending over her. He licked her breasts, sucked on her nipples. She arched, writhing. He kissed his way slowly down her body. She raised her hips to him, and he laughed, blowing on her heat.

  “Anxious, love? Hungry for me?”

  “Yes. God, yes. I need you.”

  “I am so happy to hear that.”

  Finally he brought his body over hers. She felt him heavy between her thighs, touching her entrance.

  “Oh. Oh.” She was panting. Burning. Aching. “Something is happening. I feel…I feel…”

  “Empty? Needy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. You are ready for my seed, then. Shall I give it to you now? Shall I fill you?”

  “Yes.” She almost sobbed the word. She twisted under him. He was teasing her still, hovering just outside her. “Please.”

  She slipped her hands free of her bonds. She had to touch him. She ran her hands over the muscles in his back down to his buttocks. She tugged on his hips, trying to bring him closer. “Now. Please.”

  “So impatient, my love.” His words were breathy. “Have you never felt this wildness before?”

  “No. Never. I want you now.”

  He chuckled, though his breath was coming quickly and his back was slick with sweat.

  “Demanding, too, Charlotte?”

  “Yes. Please. Now. Edward, I need you.”

  She saw through her madness that his face stilled. His eyes blazed into hers.

  “God, Charlotte.” His voice was rough. “God, to hear my name on your lips. I want to hear you scream it. Will you?”

  “I…”

  He teased her, flexing his hips, touching her entrance, brushing it, but not coming in. She arched up, but she could not capture him.

  “My name, Charlotte. Scream it and I will come to you.”

  It was not hard to do at all. She felt like screaming in frustration.

  “Edward!”

  He was a man of his word. She sobbed as he surged into her. She started to come apart even as he entered. Her passage contracted around his hard length and her womb trembled as she felt his warm seed pulse into her.

  “Charlotte.” He kissed her slowly, his body heavy on hers. He was still inside her. She liked it. She liked his weight, his possession.

  Surely this coupling had given her a child.

  She was surprised she didn’t feel more triumph. The job was done, wasn’t it? Now Edward could leave and she could sleep.

  She didn’t want to sleep. She wanted to do what they had done all over again. She moved her legs against his and flushed.

  “I still have one stocking on.”

  “Really? I am so sorry to have overlooked that detail. I shall just have to do better next time, hmm?”

  He flexed his hips and she felt him growing hard inside her.

  “Perhaps I had better try again now, do you think? They do say practice makes perfect.”

  She smiled. “Yes, please, Edward. Now would be splendid.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “I’ve worked out a plan.”

  “Hmm?” Charlotte sipped her chocolate. She had not gotten up yet. She didn’t want to. She wanted to pull up the covers and stay in bed all day, remembering the wonderful things that had happened here last night and this morning. Edward hadn’t left until dawn.

  “Charlotte, will you pay attention?” Felicity’s tone was sharp.

  Charlotte blinked. Felicity was glaring at her.

  “I’m sorry. You said something about a plan?”

  “Yes.” Felicity pulled a chair up to the bed. “I’ve come up with a plan to compromise Westbrooke when the house party visits the ruins today.” She smiled. “Or at the very least, I will remove Lady Elizabeth from the competition for his title.”

  “Oh?”

  “What do you mean, ‘oh’? This will give you what you’ve wanted, too, you know. Even if I don’t manage to trap Westbrooke, Alvord’s sister should be well and truly ruined. Lord Andrew is taking care of it. You’ll finally have your revenge.”

  “Yes.” Revenge was the furthest thing from her mind at the moment—unless it was revenge against Edward for what he had made her do the third time he’d taken her. She hadn’t wanted to do it, but he’d been right. It had been very enjoyable.

  Perhaps she could persuade him to take a tour of his topiary gardens after they got back from this trip to the ruins. Now that she was better versed in the amatory arts, she was certain she’d find the shrubbery much more interesting. Inspiring even.

  “Charlotte! Where is your mind?”

  Charlotte flushed. “Your pardon. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  The moment the words left her lips she felt her flush deepen. She must be the brightest shade of red. She glanced at Felicity. The other girl’s eyes had narrowed.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d been engaged in serious bed play. But you couldn’t have been. Peter spent a lusty night at the local inn last evening.”

  Charlotte felt a spurt of annoyance. “So that’s where he was.”

  “Yes.” Felicity’s gaze sharpened. “Did you find a substitute?”

  Charlotte put down her chocolate
and threw back the covers.

  “You said you had a plan?”

  Felicity gave her one more searching look and then shrugged. “Yes. It is not terribly complicated. I believe it should work like a charm. As I said, Andrew will take care of Lady Elizabeth. Your job is to be certain Westbrooke pays a visit to the castle’s dungeon—alone.”

  “How am I going to manage that?”

  “He’ll be looking for Lady Elizabeth. Tell him that’s where Andrew took her. He’ll fly down the stairs.” Felicity leaned forward. “And I will be waiting for him. It should take me only a few minutes to set the scene, then you are to come looking for us. Bring as many of the house party as you can, but be sure to include Lady Dunlee. She is a splendid gossip. I hope to have a spectacle staged that will titillate society for many months, if not years.”

  “When am I supposed to accomplish this? Westbrooke might be suspicious if I try to send him off the moment his foot crosses the threshold.”

  “Tynweith is planning a picnic. After we finish the meal, I will go off. Wait a few minutes and then send Westbrooke after me.”

  “Very well.” Charlotte could not find a scrap of enthusiasm for the plan, but she supposed she did owe Felicity something. “I will see what I can do.”

  Lizzie straightened her bonnet. She was waiting in Tynweith’s entry hall with the other house party guests for the caravan of carriages to arrive and take them to the castle ruins. They were still missing Lord Andrew, Lord Peter, and Lady Felicity. Perhaps those three had found something more amusing to do. She could only hope. Whatever it was, it was probably depicted in Tynweith’s obscene shrubbery.

  She stepped behind a pillar to avoid Mr. Dodsworth.

  This house party was a complete disaster. She should never have come. Perhaps she could persuade Lady Beatrice and Meg to leave early.

  She glanced around the room. Meg was in close conversation with Mr. Parker-Roth.

  Perhaps not.

  She straightened her bonnet again. Shouldn’t the carriages be here now? She’d prefer to walk, anyway. It was ridiculous to ride such a short distance.

  Her gaze touched portly Lady Dunlee and Lady Caroline.

  Well, perhaps carriages were not a terrible idea for some of the party.

  She heard a noise on the stairs and glanced up. Another hope dashed. Lord Andrew and Lady Felicity were descending. At least Lord Peter was still absent.