by Shirl Anders
It appeared his friends, the other Archangels, and their wives might let him rot in the pot of his own makings. Knowing them as well as he did, he was quite certain that they were all beside themselves in laughter on his plight. “Good friends are like that,” he grumbled, as he left his bedchamber to find Saxon, another misbegotten ally, who smirked at him to no end.
“Just this brunch to show my face because I must. Then a ride. Perhaps, for the rest of the day!” Radford exclaimed. Although, in his mind, Radford knew that he would not go the whole day, for one illogical reason. Nia. He had the indescribable need to be available so that she could come to him. It was a weak, but an inescapable feeling inside him. And with the other ladies present, it really put him in a more difficult place. He would be in a sense allowing himself to be available to the many, all for the hope of the one.
“Then we shall brave the amorous masses as one!” Saxonhurst declared, chuckling. “Just like partner fencing, I shall watch your back old man!”
“Posh!” Radford expelled in irritation as they started forward.
“Now is that word not more dandified than pip?” Saxon asked.
“I am practicing not to foully curse, which will be my inclination,” Radford replied.
Saxon laughed from the top of the stairs to the bottom. Then, it was rather like a partnership fencing match, only he was the only one without a sword. He supposed, for his sins of arrogance, he deserved every agonizing second of it. He rallied forth his aloofness and arrogance as a shield, while pretending, and not too far off course, ennui and boredom. The ladies in attendance were put off their delicate feet, but by no means discouraged. He was a bloody fool.
One adventurous young Miss by the name of Lady Jane Oakmore, and yes a virgin but sixteen years old, went so far as to accost him in the stables and were it not for Saxon’s timely arrival, he shuddered to think what might have come of it. He swore he would repent all his wicked sins and take God unto his breast, because at the moment that Saxon strode whistling into the stables, he was so heart-fully grateful that he did not deride Saxon for his poorly lacking show of watching his back.
He’d gone ahead to the stables, his nervous energy pulling him into movement. His mind was so full of churning thoughts that he did not realize that someone was lurking in the shadows just inside the stable door so he did not break his stride, but continued to his horse’s stall. So immersed in thought he did not hear the soft footfalls directly behind him, until a hand settled on his shoulder and he swiftly swung around, in his usual quick response with arms raised to confront the attacker. But fortunately, he was in complete control, for his attacker was a sixteen-year-old Miss, so recently knocking upon his bedchamber door.
My God, he thought, where was the child’s mother? He was just about to speak, when a voice broke the stalemate. “Jane, you infantile child! What are you doing here? His grace does not have time for children.”
It appeared to Radford that the two aggressive ladies were about to confront each other over him and he could feel a red flush, rushing over his face. “Lady Paddington,” he said. “It seems this young lady is lost. Could you help her find her way back to the house?”
“Yes, she is very definitely lost. It seems she is trying to seduce you, your grace. Her mother has set her to it.”
Lady Jane having apparently recovered her voice, quipped, “And I suppose you did not have the same thing in mind, you–you, old woman! I saw you scratching on his door.”
“And were you waiting in line, you silly chit?”
“Child! Silly chit! Just who do you think you are? No gentleman would have you, you used up old cow!”
Radford watched in stunned silence as the two women moved toward each other and at the word ‘old cow,’ Lady Paddington suddenly screeched, and then out of nowhere, she launched herself at Lady Jane grabbing her with both hands by the hair to swing her around. He was dumbfounded. The momentum carried them both over and down onto the straw strewn floor. Speechless, Radford could only watch as the two women rolled on the floor screaming and clawing at each other. Never is his life, had he seen such a display of irrational behavior. And, he was the cause. Surely not!
By now the commotion had gathered a crowd of stable hands and to his chagrin they were making bets on the winner. So far, it seemed none of them was aware of why the women were fighting, because their screaming and screeching was unintelligible. But he did not want to take a chance they might find out and he was about to try and part the two combatants, when Saxon strode up.
Stopping next to him, Saxon whispered in his ear, “Two of your future brides, Rad. My, my, you do have an exciting life to look forward to, old boy!”
“Stuff it, Saxon. Do something, before everyone realizes they are fighting over me.” Radford lowered himself into pleading.
“Certainly, dear friend. But remember that you will owe me.”
“Anything, Saxon, just stop this fiasco.”
With that, Saxon strode to the side of the stable and picked up a wooden bucket and proceeded to fill it from the horse trough. Then, he strode toward the two struggling women, and with deliberate timing at the peak of their screeching, he poured the water over their heads and stood back to watch them sputter.
“Works with dogs every time,” he commented calmly. The mischievous sparkle in his brown eyes hidden by his full face grin. “James!” Saxon called toward the older stable man. “Take these two lovely ladies into the house by the kitchen door. We wouldn’t want anyone else to see their dishabille, now would we?”
“That is without a doubt the most hilarious solution to a very volatile situation that I have ever seen, Saxon,” Radford said, while trying not to laugh.
“Nothing to it, Rad, just a bit of experience.”
Radford just looked at Saxonhurst unable to ask the obvious of how Saxon had gotten such experience, as they both turned to retrieve their stallions and make hasty retreats.
Chapter Fourteen
Nia came to make love to Radford. One last time. She came because she was weak and she would be stronger beside him for what she must do. She came because she was helpless, and she came in the end, to tell him the truth.
Nia wondered what people were, if they were not selfish, as she adjusted the black-haired wig that she wore. Then she smoothed the apron to the chambermaid’s outfit that she had on. Yet, any more guilt that she felt was winningly overwhelmed by her elation of seeing Radford again. Being in his arms. Loving him.
She’d made a devil’s pact with herself. Irrevocable. She would allow herself the final lovemaking in payment for four words that she must speak. She made her vow in the Lord’s name. But more importantly, she made her vow to Radford. She cared for him too well to simply disappear from him without a word or explanation to him about what had occurred.
Truly, she had no measure of his feelings for her. For all she knew, she was simply a mysterious diversion to him. Sorely, she wanted to believe that in her arms he had experienced the same earth-shattering emotions that she had. Yet, she was simply not naive enough where men were concerned to place any certainty in that. Men loved women, and many men loved many women.
So her need to tell him some of the truth and not leave him in a vast limbo was as much for herself, or more. To her, love in part meant compassion and trying your very best not to hurt the one you loved. She had already failed dismally in the not hurting part; yet, she was determined to offer him what she could in the way of understanding the fullness of what had happened to him.
The money Benny offered be damned. She’d given up on it, because of the ragged distaste accepting it now would bring her. Nay, after this one last time with Radford, she would return to Dublin and find herself a wealthy gentleman who wished a young mistress. Before, she’d shied away from becoming any man’s permanent mistress for fear that the part of her heart that she could not hold back would become too attached. But now, that problem had been solved. No one could take her heart from Radford and being just a
simple fille de joie was never going to garner her enough money to send Galen up to Oxford.
So she entered Radford’s bedchamber quietly carrying bed linens and wearing her disguise of being a chambermaid. In her heart was elation, but it also suffered with heaviness. She knew that sooner or later Radford would receive the message and small package that she’d paid one of his Pages to give to him. So she laid the linens down on the bed and sat beside them to wait. As soon as she heard Radford’s approach, she would turn and pretend that she was making the bed.
Radford looked out over his gardens from a balcony above, which could only be approached from one set of doors behind him. Standing on the other side of the closed doors was a butler with instructions to let no one pass. Below him, there was an afternoon garden party under way. The summer day was clear and not too hot. A small orchestra played strains of a waltz and the ladies and gentlemen attending were resplendent in their attire, as they strolled through the well-manicured garden pathways.
From his vantage point, he could nod at his guests and try without much success to smile at the up turned pretty faces eagerly looking up at him for some sign. Yet, at the same time he could manage to stay apart. It was brilliant. He might appear eccentric, yet not wholly a malcontent snob for not attending the party, or immersing himself completely in this gathering of his own making.
His butler knocked, then opened the door to ask entrance. Radford was not surprised it was the fourth time this happened. Each time the butler carried a small intimate note from one of the ladies. All the notes requested private assignations with him in provocative manners. One had used poetry and he had been mildly impressed by that one. This time, however, the butler carried a note and a small package on his silver tray. Radford took both and thanked the butler, watching him retreat back behind the door.
His heartbeat was instantly pulsing strongly with excitement that he was suppressing as a delicate vanilla scent drifted upward from the note and package. Nia. He could nearly wring her lovely neck. A full twenty-four hours he had waited, as though he were a debutante waiting for her first caller. She would pay, he vowed! Yet, by the time he’d read the note, with its seductive instructions, he realized that she had him exactly where she wanted him, yet again. As usual.
And, were he not to play along, he stood the chance of not seeing her. Actually once again, he would not be seeing her at all, he thought looking down at the blindfold that he held in his hands. Nia suggested in the note that he go to his bedchamber and don the blindfold. The minx!
Radford entered his bedchamber still deep in thought as yet unsure whether he would actually put on the blindfold and sit like a lamb, awaiting Nia’s arrival. With his mind fully occupied, he glimpsed the dark-haired chambermaid putting fresh linens on his bed and he gave her a curt order to leave. Turning his back on her, he raked his hand through his hair. Somehow, someway, Nia seemed to need this trust from him, and he knew, just as she did, that he could remove the blindfold anytime.
Once this was resolved in his mind, he let go of his hesitations and allowed the excitement of Nia’s making to course freely through him. There was no pretending that she had him anything less than enthralled with her antics. A man could silently pray his entire life to find a woman who was truly sexual, with a free and uninhibited manner. One who enjoyed it openly and fully as an intimate part of a relationship with a man? Yet, that man had better be prepared to take the unique gift shown to him with all his might and love.
Radford lifted the blindfold and tied it around his one good eye and the eye patch on the other side. Then, he reached out to touch the armrest of the chair he stood by, and just as he was turning to the side, he heard the click of the door. Something registered in his mind as he turned his blindfolded gaze toward the light sounds of a skirt swishing toward him. There was no vanilla scent, yet his nostrils did detect the scent of musky lingering feminine arousal and softly heated flesh. He could be worried that one of the ladies pursuing him had arrived unexpectedly. However, he had heard only one click of the door and that meant . . .
“You are the maid,” he murmured.
Chapter Fifteen
“I am Nia,” she whispered with her husky Irish accent that instantly sent Radford’s heart beating heavier.
Radford lifted his hand and his fingers brushed the material of a crisp linen skirt, and then the outline of a rounded hip beneath. “A wig?” he asked, cupping Nia’s hip as she swayed closer to him, and then he felt the front of her skirts pressing against his outer thigh.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I have come to make love to you.”
His cock instantly began to lift, solidly weighted, as his heartbeat raced, but before he could gather his thoughts to reply to this amorous promise, he felt Nia’s fingers lightly stroking his perpetually shadowed jaw.
“Slowly,” she murmured, with a deep sensual purring in her voice. “If you accept.” Her fingertips traced his bottom lip. “You will.” Then, her finger rounded his mouth to trace the curves of his upper lip. “Accept my finger in your mouth and,” she pressed the tip of her finger to the tip of his tongue as his lips parted, “Suckle on it slowly, love.” A harsh hiss escaped the back of his throat as Nia slid her finger down the center of his tongue. “Slowly, my heart,” she purred as the edges of his tongue curled over her sliding finger. Then with one lingering draw, Radford stopped Nia’s fingers movement with his tongue sucking on it.
“Mm, Radford,” she gasped softly and he felt her lips brush his cheek as he squeezed her hip more intimately, pulling her harder against his thigh.
The tenderness of her finger against his tongue traced back out to the tip and he grasped the tip with his lips, leaning forward to suckle it back into his mouth to the base. Nia’s purring moan enlivened him as her lips kissed down his jaw with her tongue darting out to wet his flesh. Then, her lips were next to her finger, which he suckled deep in his mouth.
“Kiss me . . . I need your lips on me,” she moaned, thrillingly.
The complete seduction of it saturated him, raising his cock stiffly as Nia’s finger left his mouth and their lips softly collided together. The kissing was deep, wet, and passionately urgent as though structured slowness were beyond their grasp. Nia’s tongue entered his mouth and he took it to him, loving it wildly. From one second to the next, he was standing with Nia lifted up into his arms. They kissed each other even more ardently with their lips curling over each other’s as he strode to the bed, misjudging the distance in his urgent and impassioned state, and he bumped into it. He let the momentum drop Nia onto the soft mattress, breaking their lips apart as a small squeal escaped her and he climbed up on the bed over her, where he knew she would be.
He felt her fingers clutching the front of his shirt. “I wanted this to be slow,” she gasped.
“Later. I cannot wait now,” he rasped, and then the sound and feel of his shirt being torn open by Nia’s fingers filled him.
“I cannot wait either,” she whimpered.
“Take your clothes off, Nia,” he hissed urgently. “God, I want you naked, Fire, now.”
“Oh yes, Radford,” she gasped.
Radford felt the bed’s jerky motions caused my Nia hurrying to strip for him as he leaned on one hand over her and he used his other hand to tug on her clothing with her. His hand slid against her creamy supple flesh in different glancing moments. Touching her delicate rib cage, the curve of her breast, her lower belly, and other sensual spots. The blindness of his gaze heightened his senses and within moments she was pulling him down into her naked embrace, where he willingly fell into the cradle of her heat.
“Nia.”
Nia tugged Radford’s shirt off, and then she delved her fingers into his hair, pulling him down, lifting up at the same time, until their lips met. The buds of her tautly aroused nipples grazed over his muscular chest and she moaned into his mouth. She felt exactly like the fire that he called her as she hooked one foot over the back of his thigh and she used it to lift her pu
ssy up against the thickened length of his cock beneath his pants. She rode the upper mound of her cunt hard against that unyielding mass and weight. The strength of it made her core weep and flush open with an excruciating ache to feel its power bursting inside her.
“I want you. I want you,” she whimpered around Radford’s tongue plunging into her mouth with deep mating motions.
His mouth broke away from hers. “Christ, Nia,” he groaned hoarsely, then suddenly he swept her upward more tightly against his chest and rolled their bodies, until she was on top of him. His hands tunneled into her hair, tugging her head back, as he growled, “You have me.”
“Yes,” she cried, raising up over him to open his pants and pull them urgently down, not bothering with his boots. Only caring that his long ample cock was free and standing upright for her.
“Fuck me now, Nia. Take me inside you. Let me fuck you, cherie. Your hot wet pussy.”
Nia panted, looking at the seed oozing from the slit in the head of Radford’s jutting cock. The sounds cascading from her throat sounded ravenous as her mouth begged to be filled, but her inner core begged harder. Her pussy pleaded, with juices leaking down her inner thighs, to be filled with the plunging friction of Radford’s cock stretching her deeply.
She grabbed the shaft, pumping it with the motions her entire body craved, as she crawled over it. The heftiness of it excited her as Radford groaned, raising his hips upward to the motions of her tight and pumping grip on his shaft.
“Put my cock in your pussy,” he growled. “Put the head where I can feel you. Get it wet on you, Nia.”
“Oh,” she moaned, fitting the densely swollen head of his cock to her hot vagina. “Can you feel it?” she gasped, pressing the head to the opening, and circling it around the edges, while smearing it with her liquid of passionate desire.
