Sexual Hunger

by Melissa MacNeal

  “Miss Palladino,” her fiancé’s father intoned as he eyed Rubio’s flamboyant shirt. He stood then, remembering his manners. “May I please believe you’ve not come to join in this female hysteria? It’s enough to make a man escape to a faraway island. Perhaps Jason had the right idea.”

  “Phillip! You’ve no call to behave so rudely!” his wife chided. She crossed the parlor to grasp each of them by the hand. “What have you learned, Mr. Palladino? Just your presence here brings me a feeling of optimism! Of hope!”

  “I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, Lady Darington,” he replied cordially. He made a show of kissing her knuckles. “And indeed, as I searched for signals from your Jason’s spirit—his presence, anywhere—I have reason to believe he’s aboard a ship bound for America. And that he was shanghaied.”

  “Shanghaied?” Lord Darington noisily lowered his newspaper to his lap. “Why would I even consider that, when the Yard has had no indication—”

  “Ah, but London’s finest can’t be everywhere at once, even if they’d have us believe in their omnipotence. The long arm of the law won’t reach out unless it has something to grab.” Rubio cocked his head slightly, appealing to Dora’s widened eyes, sensing she would give him the benefit of any doubt. “Even in this day and age, captains come up short of crewmen. It’s not unheard of for an unscrupulous shipping magnate to employ indecent, illegal means to procure sailors for his ships.”

  “And my son’s headed for America?” Jason’s mother queried. “He should’ve been there by now! Why hasn’t he told us about this, when he could telegraph from—doesn’t he realize we’re worried sick over his disappearance?”

  Maria shifted. The expressions on their faces held a hint that perhaps Jason had fled, and that she was the reason. “It’s possible he’s hurt,” she murmured. “Unable to respond when Rubio prods him from afar, searching for his energy.”

  Lord Darington still scowled. “He’s an able-bodied seaman. Resourceful enough to get himself out of such a predicament—”

  “Unless he’s unconscious. Or dazed.” Rubio turned to Jude then, reaching for his hand. “I came to see if I could establish clearer contact, with your help,” he explained, “for the bond between twins often defies logic or any powers I possess. May I?”

  “Certainly! I, for one, have no doubt my brother was abducted against his will.” Jude joined hands with Rubio, all the while gazing at Maria. “Jason was deeply in love with his woman, and the pendant she wears speaks to her devotion, as well. Lest we Daringtons forget, Miss Palladino has dealt with more heartache and dejection than the rest of us combined. Yet she is doing something—using her resources—to bring Jason back to us.”

  Maria’s heart swelled even though she dared not smile too widely: Dora and Jemma, while fascinated by her brother’s allegations, realized this second son was demeaning their behavior. He’d no doubt pay for it, too, but for now Jude stood with his eyes closed, following Rubio’s example.

  The two men faced each other, deep in concentration, as the rest of the family watched. Her brother’s breathing deepened and his eyelids quivered…his face tilted upward as though he searched the heavens—or that universe within reach of his mind—while remaining physically in front of them. Maria knew that if she spoke to him, Rubio wouldn’t be aware of it.

  After a few moments, Jude gasped. “Jason!” he whispered. “I fear he…has no idea of his situation. Shows no sign of recognizing me. No understanding of how to contact us—if indeed he…remembers he has a family at all.”

  “How can that be?” his mother wailed. “Surely he knows we’ve been worried sick—”

  “Unless he was tossed aboard, or fell. Those who’ve been shanghaied are often given a potent drug so the captain can head for open waters before they wake up,” Lord Darington remarked. His brow creased with concern. “If he got a good whack to his head, he could be cognizant but suffering from amnesia.”

  “Who did this to him?” Dora demanded. Her expression had changed from one of dramatic dejection to maternal purpose. “You should send the police to wherever Jason might have—”

  The older Darington stood up. Silenced his wife with a withering glare. “Sending the law on a wild-goose chase does Jason no good whatsoever. However, I shall send telegrams to my partners on America’s eastern seaboard, alerting them to this situation. Whatever vessel he’s aboard—if indeed this scenario is accurate—should have reached its destination by now.”

  He studied Jude and then Rubio, weighing what to say next. When he focused on Maria, his harsh features softened slightly. “While I put little faith in performances given by the likes of Yosef Polinsky and your brother, Miss Palladino, I appreciate your rational approach—the fact that you brought this possibility to my attention,” he said. “Forgive me for overlooking your distress during this ordeal. And please—consider the town house your home while we await word of Jason’s condition.”

  Her heart pounded. “Thank you, Lord Darington! I—”

  “It’s the least I can do for a woman who doesn’t yowl like a tormented cat.” He smoothed the velvet lapels of his jacket as he glanced at his family. “I shall return after I’ve given my partners time to reply to my telegram—or when I’m damn good and ready. I expect to find order restored by then. Good day, Miss Palladino, and thank you,” he added with a stiff nod. “With gratitude to your brother, too, of course.”

  Out the door he went, intent on his plans to locate his oldest son—and, most likely, to take the credit for finding Jason, too. Maria closed her eyes…focused on a fine, feisty vision of her fiancé in her mind’s eye, while sending him her most fervent plea: Please, Jason, never forget how much I love you! How badly I need you here with me! I miss you so!

  “Well, then! I suppose we’ve quelled Mumsy’s thoughts about pining away in layers of black bombazine and crepe,” Jemma said lightly. She grinned at Rubio, and then held out her albino ferret. “Would you like to say hello to Willie-boy? He loves to be stroked!”

  Maria’s brother gingerly touched the creature’s head. Maria kept her hands clasped, smiling politely.

  “Thank you for coming today,” the young blonde remarked coyly. “I was so upset, fearing we’d forgo Lord Galsworthy’s ball for Mum’s sense of decency! Now I’m going to shop for exquisite fabric for a new gown! Something in crimson or pink! I feel like a woman pulled back from the edge of her grave!”

  “And I shall join you, daughter! We have cause for hope, if not celebration yet.” Gazing purposefully into Rubio’s eyes, Dora rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Then she glanced at Maria. “We’re invited for tea at Meriweather Golding’s tomorrow. We’d be pleased if you’d join us. I’m sure the hours pass slowly as you await word from Jason.”

  “Thank you, milady. I’ll be happy to go along.” Maria smiled demurely: behind his mother and his sister, Jude was trying to catch her eye. “Thank you again for assuring me a home until he returns to us.”

  “Yes, well—” Lady Darington’s expression tightened, as if to say at least you won’t be living under OUR roof.

  Maria smiled again. She couldn’t agree more.

  Once mother and daughter strolled toward the stairway, gesticulating as they described the designs and fabrics of their new ball gowns, Jude stepped up. He bowed slightly, extending his hand to her brother. “What a relief you’ve brought us, with this word of my brother. Sanity’s restored—until the next crisis arises!” he remarked quietly. Then he grasped Maria’s hand, as well. “And if you need to return to your studio, Rubio, I shall be happy to escort Maria back to the town house. I have a wedding photograph to show her. Had I known you were coming, I’d have fetched it up from my darkroom.”

  Her brother’s lips flickered knowingly. “I’m sure Maria will welcome the diversion—and your company. If I hear anything further, I’ll let you know. And thank you for your assistance, Jude. It lent me a bit more credibility, where your father’s concerned.”

  Rubio turned,
and as his gaze locked with hers, Maria sensed he already knew what would happen next…could anticipate it even before the possibility twinkled like a star on her night’s horizon. “Tread carefully, dear sister. Your welfare is my utmost concern.”

  12

  “Where on God’s earth are you taking me?” Maria whispered. Even with her hand firmly in Jude’s, the dank coolness and the flickering shadows his candle cast in the winding stone stairway conjured up images of a tomb. Not the sort of place she’d imagined when Jude had spoken of her wedding portrait.

  “My darkroom is my sanctum. My sanctuary,” he explained as they reached yet another landing on the downward spiral. He stopped to face her, his eyes reflecting the small flame in the dimness of the cold stone walls. “Developing negatives requires absolute absence of daylight—which, of course, guarantees Jemma and Mum won’t interrupt me. Despite her affection for that white rodent, my sister faints at the mere mention of mice. And spiders? The complete undoing of every female at Wildwood.”

  “Mice?” Maria murmured, trying not to look for them on the rough stone steps. “Spiders?”

  Jude’s chuckle reverberated eerily in the stairwell. “Never fear, sweet Maria. I mention such pests for the sake of my privacy, but I can’t have them scurrying across my wet prints, nor do I want to deal with their droppings. The only thing in my darkroom you need concern yourself with is…the photographer. And his equipment.”

  Maria’s chuckle got swallowed up in a kiss that teased her out of her fears. Why had she thought Jude would lead her anywhere frightening when he so loved to lead her astray? Jason’s absence had forced them to remain apart these past weeks, and the caress of his eager lips ignited embers that had lain dormant too long. Her breath escaped in a sigh. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him.

  He set the candle on a rough ledge. Jude moaned and ran his hands along her curves as though he’d forgotten how they felt. As he cupped her backside, Maria rose on her toes to unleash her need. He felt so warm and giving, so solid and satisfying, after calling up mere memories of Jason while she satisfied herself with that ivory dildo.

  Jude released her lips yet held her close. “We should look at that portrait. It’ll give you something specific to talk about, should your brother ask how you spent your time with me.”

  “He knows, you know.”

  Her lover blinked. “You didn’t tell him—”

  “Even if Rubio weren’t a medium, he’s got enough male instinct to figure things out.” She tweaked his nose. “It’s not like he’s a paragon of virtue, either, so we keep each other’s secrets. My brother might not entirely approve of our…three-legged arrangement, but he’ll never reveal it to anyone.”

  Jude nodded doubtfully. “We’d best move along, anyway. Could be Mum and my nosy sister will figure things out, too, if they saw Rubio leave without you. You’re going to love what you see!”

  They reached the lower level at last, a dreary area where pieces of cast-out furniture loomed, draped in spooky sheets. Across the stone floor, Jude’s candle revealed wooden partitions, and after they stepped through a doorway there he lit an oil lamp with a reflector. The enclosed den became immediately cheerier. Enameled basins were stacked neatly in one corner of his work area, which consisted of two large tables joined in the corner. An acidic smell made her wrinkle her nose, but his lemon verbena candle masked it.

  “Now—prepare yourself, fair Maria,” Jude murmured, pointing to an easel draped in a drop cloth. “While all three of the portraits I made show you to breathtaking advantage, this is my favorite. So I indulged my selfish whims and printed two enlargements of it. A gift to you, and to myself.”

  He gestured for her to remove the cloth, yet she hesitated. She and Rubio had come from a working-class family; had never sat for formal portraits. Most she’d seen appeared stilted and stiff, because the subjects had to remain still for such a long time. What if I don’t like it? He’s obviously so eager to show me…so proud of his work…

  With a flick of her wrist she whipped away the cloth. Then she gasped. “Why, I resemble the Queen herself—when she was much younger, of course!”

  “I was hoping you’d notice the resemblance, love. I’ve not looked at this portrait in natural light,” he added with a boyish grin. “But I’m sure Mum and Jemma will wail that they have never been so breathtakingly…beautifully portrayed.”

  Maria stepped closer, running a finger along the plain yet elegant gilt frame he’d chosen. “It’s—well, I’ve never seen anything like it! And this hint of color—”

  “A light touch of gouache, to make your lips look so…kissable and lifelike,” he whispered. “And to add dimension to your gown and hair that a mere photograph won’t capture.”

  Maria swallowed hard. The portrait brought back all the anticipation—the bridal excitement—of those moments before they realized the wedding would be cancelled. “I wish Jason were here to—”

  When her voice caught, Jude slipped his arm around her. “And he will be, sweetheart! Soon! Father has by now sent out telegrams to all his American partners, thanks to you and Rubio. He remains sternly silent about the matter, but it’s worn him thin. He detests feeling helpless.”

  “So do I. Thank you for understanding that—and for bringing me to see this, Jude. I…I wish it were real.”

  His eyebrow arched. “How do you mean, real? As surely as my arm holds your shoulders and my cock prods my pants, you are a living, breathing—”

  “But that’s a bridal portrait. And I came away from the church unmarried.”

  He pulled her close, so she could not look away from his insistent eyes…eyes that matched Jason’s. “This dream shall someday come true, Maria. I can feel it! Among other things.”

  A snicker escaped her, and then she laughed out loud as the unladylike sound echoed around them. “You’re incorrigible!”

  “A man with a passion, my dear. A need for you.” Jude pulled her into another ravenous kiss, which made her aware that even if, God forbid, she never saw Jason again, she was very much loved. Very much desired and cherished—even if Jude loved her in a different way.

  But it was a way that thrilled her, wasn’t it? What woman didn’t adore a man who captured her so skillfully with his camera? And how could she not appreciate Jude’s humor, his slower yet thorough way of inflaming her before he made love to her? His twin’s tendencies toward rapid-fire, breathless lovemaking thrilled her because she loved Jason’s little games: she was his willing victim every time he took her.

  Right here, right now, though, Jude once again proved his unique power over her. His was the subtle, sensuous, sentimental soul…a belief that she deserved to be wooed and won, as proof of his affection for her. Maria felt his lithe body rubbing hers, and once again she succumbed to the forbidden thrill of making love to a man who passed as Jason but was not.

  “Up you go, my little tart,” he murmured as he lifted her to sit on his worktable. “I’ve a yen for honey and nectar, warm and pungent. Where might I find some?”

  Maria’s inner muscles clenched. His sly smile widened just inches in front of hers as his gaze swept her face—and loved what he saw there. “I know a place,” she whispered. “It’s dark and mysterious. Only the brave and the confident venture inside, for fear they’ll never recover themselves after they enter those mystical gates.”

  “Show me the way with your hand.” Jude slowly raised the hem of her skirt. “Am I on the right path, love? How shall I know when I arrive?”

  Maria spread her thighs farther apart, pressing his palm at their moist juncture. “Just inside this seam…hidden behind a bush…God, how I love it when you rub my mound this way.”

  “I thought you might.” Jude’s voice was the softest whisper. His dark eyes shone in the candle’s flickering light, and as he held her gaze, a single finger insinuated itself into the opening of her silk drawers. “Oh, Maria…so wet and willing…so sweet and warm. Your scent drives me absolutel
y insane.”

  Her head fell back as he inserted his long middle finger, circling in a hypnotic rhythm that made her gasp and need so much more. “Jude—Jude, please fill me with your cock and—it’s been so fucking long since—”

  “Ah, the lady prays a desperate prayer. But I shall make her wait, and…” Low laughter wrapped around her as he filled her with three fingers, to stroke her wet folds with maddening slowness. “I suspect my brother’s bravado impresses you—has accustomed you to his aggression and speed. But I am not my brother, sweet Maria.”

  Her eyes flew open. And indeed she saw Jude’s subtler charm: the catlike grin that said he thoroughly enjoyed the chase—the tease and lead-up—as much as the actual act of joining with her. “Do you spend your hours in this room dreaming up ways to torment me, Jude? Did you make yourself a duplicate of my portrait for those times when solitary satisfaction must suffice?”

  His eyes widened. “And what would you know of solitary satisfaction? Between my brother and me, we leave you little time to recuperate or grow needy again.”

  “You only whet my appetite for more. I’m insatiable, you know.” Maria nipped her lip, letting her hips wiggle with his caress. “Did Jason ever tell you about the ivory dildo he brought me from one of his trips? It’s huge, Jude. Fills me so full, and feels so…solid when I clench my puss around its loooong thickness.”

  He swallowed hard. Fumbled with the buttons of his pants. “And do you ease it in and out? Torture yourself with its ridges and textures?” he whispered. “Or do you plunge and fuck mindlessly, until—”

  “Yes. Ohhhh yes.”

  He scooped himself out of his drawers as his pants slithered down his legs. “And which way will you maneuver me, when I become your love toy, your personal slave—”

  “Enter the gates and find out.” Maria gazed pointedly at his erect cock, unrestrained and ready as he rubbed it in his palm. “But first let me admire the photographer and his…equipment. What a picture you make, Jude. I could watch you all day…could suggest that you fondle yourself while I hold my hole open as your target. I bet you could splatter me from three paces, like a magnificent fountain shooting cum from—” To clarify her point, Maria slouched back against the wall and reached between her legs. She tugged the soggy seam of her drawers apart so she was fully visible to him, then held her inflamed folds open to reveal the little nub jutting above it.