"Hmm, your pink bottom has a dimple. Absolutely perfect, and your legs are trim and shapely."
A dimple, Gabriella wondered . . . perfect . . . shapely?
Drummond still held her hand and was using it to turn her fully around to face him again. "And your breasts, madame, how glorious. I have a deep desire to touch them. Nibble my teeth on those rosebud tips." His gaze was smoldering, charcoal embers. "Shall you allow me?"
Gabriella hung hopelessly on the sensation of his words. Nibbling her breasts? Then his last words registered. He would let her choose?
"I want to, madame. I want to touch your breasts . . . to pet them. But, I will not, unless you ask it of me."
She parted her lips, but no sound came forth, before he said, "Ah, but I have a gift for you. A perfect setting, I believe."
"A gift," she whispered, trying to find any strength in her voice.
"First let me dry this white velvet skin of yours, then I shall give you my gifts . . . two of them, I have, madame. Do you fancy presents?"
White velvet skin, why I never? "I l-love presents," she blurted, feeling instantly embarrassed as the admission just spilled out of her.
"I thought so," Drummond murmured as he began to apply a fluffy white linen to her back, bottom, and legs. And she let him! "Turn around again for me, madame," he ordered quietly.
Drummond was so close that Gabriella could feel the heat of his body, nearly feel the brush of his hunting jacket, as she turned. She found herself gazing at the small ruby stud that he wore in his left earlobe. Such a masculine ear, she thought a bit off kilter, and the crimson ruby was unusual, but quite attractive. Then, his downy linen found her loins and her legs parted with a melting new appreciation, as he chuckled low and arresting.
"Not yet, madame. Perhaps for dessert this evening."
Her gaze flew to his, but there was no disdain or mockery, just appreciation, heady masculine appreciation.
"I shall leave the drying of your plump beautiful breasts to you, madame. I did promise," he murmured, gazing deeply into her eyes for long moments before he handed her the towel and stepped away. The whole while Gabriella heard the words, plump and beautiful, fluttering through her mind, so much so that she dared to peek downward. A lady never really looked upon her naked self, but...
Chapter Five
Drummond savored the view of exquisite feminine nudity that Gabriella presented to him as he sat in a padded wing chair musing that he was unable to cross his legs comfortably for the willful hardening of his cock. He brushed his lower lip with his fingertips, fighting the impetuous urge to take the damn thing out and stroke it. Judas, he normally applied more control than this, yet he had never quite been in this situation before. The lady of his youthful dreams was standing naked in his home, well except for the linen she clutched, which he would rid her of shortly. Still, she was standing here, elegant and beautiful, more so in her maturity than he could have imagined, with her ripe curving figure just begging to fill his hands.
Hmm, and she was his. All his or she would be once he finally set his mind to the task. The seduction of her, he had perfected in odd fantasies throughout the years, so it came easily to his mind. The securing of her, to him legally, would take much more ingenuity and he would only finalize whatever plan he conjured when he was completely certain that Gabriella would bed him and love him with abandon. He had suffered one lifelong commitment to a passion-afraid woman and he would not do so again. However, with Gabriella, even in this short time together, made him feel that he was nearly certain that she was . . . Or was that just his heart?
"Drummond it appears to me, um . . . or do you perchance, carry a tendre for me? From our youth together or-or ..." she asked with her voice faltering away.
Drummond felt guilty, caught for the barest of moments, and he understood that it was much too soon to hope for this in himself or her for that matter. No, he had to disabuse her of this notion, keeping her off balance, but she looked so precious standing there.
"I have a fine appreciation for beautiful women, Lady St. John, at the present it is nothing more than that, I assure you." Drummond watched Gabriella's coral-shaded lips form a tantalizing moue of disappointment. He could only consider that any woman would wish their first love to be falling upon their feet in middle age. Ah well, perhaps someday, he mused, they certainly were pink-toed treasures. What was that the gentlemen, Archangels were saying, "Make the woman your mistress?" He would have to keep that in mind, he considered as he offered his hand to Gabriella.
"Come here, madame."
Gabriella gazed at him with more than uncertainty in her violet colored eyes. It was then he decided that he would have to purchase an amethyst jewel their exact incredible coloring as he watched her walk timidly toward him to stand at his bent knees. "Kneel on that linen you clutch so tightly, madame. Kneel here between my legs, so that I may gift you with your first present."
He could see quite clearly in Gabriella's open gaze the war within herself, she did not want to kneel, however, another part of her desired it. Just as he understood how secretly thrilled she was to be wholly naked before him. It was that doubt . . . that self-denial of pleasure that he must overcome.
Gabriella knelt gingerly between Drummond's legs feeling scandalous. Besides feeling hot and wholly off balance, a part of her thought relentlessly of Drummond's bold fingers and the other part audaciously anticipated the gifting of a present with the excitement of a little girl. She watched Drummond pull a red velvet jewelry box from his inner jacket pocket with his lean, tanned fingers carrying it forward. Jewelry, she wondered, experiencing a shiver of excitement.
"This gift is yours and yours alone. The second gift shall be ultimately for both of us," he murmured.
Gabriella hardly had a moment to wonder at Drummond's words, before she was overwhelmed at the sight of two teardrop diamond earrings! Oh, it was really quite silly for her to react like this. She really should be indignant at Drummond for all that he was doing to her. It was all so decadent. No lady ever could...
"Drummond, they are beautiful!" she gasped despite her half-hearted efforts at silent morality lessons. They were so exquisite and no one had given her a gift since her childhood.
"Tears, my love?" Drummond questioned in a tenor murmur.
"I-I," she gazed at him, trembling as she knelt naked between his legs, hearing the resonance of his masculine voice saying, "my love," as it echoed through her mind.
"Let me place them in your lobes, madame," Drummond murmured as he leaned forward to set the jewelry box on his knee. He took one sparkling diamond earring out of the box and Gabriella placed her hands on his steady knees, finding herself inexplicably leaning her body forward to him. His fingers were warm and this time the sleeves of his jacket did brush across her bare nipples, which were distended and-and aching. He was so close that she could smell brandy and a hint of spicy cigar on his breath, which warmed her cheek. She shivered. The cloth of his jacket brushed her nipples again and she glimpsed the pink tips jutting forward as if begging for more.
"Oh," she breathed, biting her bottom lip as she inched a tiny bit closer. Oh gracious, what would it feel like if he put his hands on my . . .
"There, madame, now stand, so I may view them properly."
Drummond's hands touched her waist on both sides with his long fingers hot on her flesh as they spread outward over her belly, into the small of her back. He lifted her . . . easily. Her breasts pressed fully into the silk of his pristine white shirt and she could feel inch upon inch of the inflexible muscles of his chest. Then, she was standing while he reclined in the chair, gazing up at her. She was so close between his legs that she could feel the tempered tendons of his thighs, brushing along her outer thighs.
"What is it you want of me, Drummond?" she asked breathlessly.
"Everything," he stated succinctly, as his gray eyes traveled slowly, possessively, setting fire to her breasts, her belly, and then warming the curling auburn hair between
her thighs.
"Drummond, I . . ."
"Yes," he drawled knowingly, with two of his fingers rubbing over his full bottom lip.
Gabriella wanted desperately to ask him to touch her, to put his hands on her loins. His fingers. But she couldn't. She could only stand there trembling as she watched the flicker of disappointment in his gaze, come and go so quickly that . . .
"And now, madame, for my second gift," he said briskly as he began to pull a long gold chain out of his pocket. The chain was as delicately wrought as a necklace, however, too long to be so, but it did have an oblong-shaped pearl-colored stone in the very middle of its length.
"This is a special stone, madame, called a passion pearl." Drummond reached forward and drew the chain around her bare waist.
"Drummond, I-I," Gabriella stuttered, looking down at his tan fingers working to close the clasp.
"Hush now," he murmured deeply as he brought the opalescence pearl forward and the delicate chain caught on her naked hips, while the pearl-stone slid downward through the springy nest of her woman's hair . . . and lower! Drummond touched the pearl with the tip of one finger and pushed it. Right into the crease of her femininity! Gabriella gasped, jumping backward, but the pearl-stone was wedged and she was completely flustered as she reached her shaking hands to the chain, trying to pull the pearl free.
"Tsk-tsk, madame."
Gabriella glanced over at Drummond just as the pearl pulled free to settle harmlessly in the curls of her woman's fleece.
"Ah well, madame, you shall wear it from now on regardless," he said as he leaned back into the chair and idly regarded her. "You are never to take it off and should I ever find it not around your waist, I will have to punish you."
"Punish," she exclaimed, grabbing a linen from beside the brass tub to cover herself as she glared at Drummond.
"Precisely, madame," he replied as he stood. "We shall commence with spankings at anytime or place that I do not find you wearing my passion pearl about your waist."
Gabriella gasped when she heard Drummond say spanking and she stepped backward a step, and blurted, "How barbaric, Lord Kittridge!"
"Madame, nothing would please me more than for you to find me very barbaric," Drummond stated as he strode with a lethal grace toward the door. "I should like you to wear a low-cut gown for dinner this evening," he drawled as he opened the door. "Because we are now both aware of how much, I do covet your breasts. Are we not, madame?"
Upon those parting words, Drummond closed the door behind him as he stepped into the hallway allowing a satisfied smile to crease his lips.
"A mistress indeed," he murmured as he set off down the hall. He would change into his evening clothes in another one of the numerous rooms here at his country manor. Thereby allowing Gabriella a brief respite to collect herself, besides they were having guests for dinner.
Chapter Six
In the end Gabriella chose a deep burgundy colored silk gown with a plunging neckline. She tried to assure herself that it had nothing to do with Drummond's bold threats upon herself or her person. That it was simply because the rich colors of the gown set off her complexion and notably, the diamond earrings.
"Oh, you are truly hopeless," she exclaimed to herself after Matilda had finished dressing her hair and left her alone for a few moments before she needed to go downstairs to dinner. "Utterly hopeless," she finished in a whisper as she regarded her reflection in the mirror.
What did she see there, she wondered? Certainly not the same woman whose husband threw her aside for his pregnant mistress saying that a bastard heir was better than no heir at all. However, the most horrible thought was that she wondered deeply whether she could really blame Reginald. Being barren was such a disgraceful condition. She understood why no man could possibly want a woman who w-was . . .
Velvet white skin . . . glorious breasts . . . a dimple . . . my love. "Except perhaps, Drummond," Gabriella murmured, thinking that she had never been more surprised and thankful to see Drummond at that hideous "wife's sale" that her husband had commissioned. And, to see Reginald thwarted from selling her to that portly banker, as had been his intentions! Drummond had rescued her as completely as any fanciful hero. It was truly disconcerting to have the very man that you have secretly loved your entire life appear in your moment of greatest need and figuratively carry you off to safety. But was it safety? She wanted so much to believe that it was and yet, she had frivolously believed in the marriage vows also, no matter how miserable she had been through the years. The problem being, that if one man could so heedlessly throw her aside, why not the next? What could she ever hope to be to Drummond, but his lady in keeping? Yet what choice did she have, or did she really wish any other choice?
"Do I?" she whispered, remembering Drummond's hands, his magic fingers, his words, and his gaze upon her. Oh gracious he made her feel more like a woman than she had ever felt in her life, although it was all so improper and so immoral. Just then, she could hear knocking on the door with Matilda's voice behind it, reminding her of the time. So Gabriella gladly put her troubled thoughts aside, thinking distractedly that she truly had no wish to deal with them at all!
When she arrived downstairs to stand in front of what she presumed were the double doors to the dining room. It was then that she heard the distinct murmuring of conversation on the other side of the doors, accentuated by the tenor fluctuations of male voices, in some type of amusement. Guests? Men laughing? Startled, Gabriella looked askance of the very proper young butler. "Are there guests?" she whispered anxiously. Then finding herself without a moment to change her course of entering the room, which she would not have done except the attentive butler was already opening the doors.
"The Archangels, my lady," the butler said as he stepped aside and waited her entrance very properly.
Archangels? Gabriella's steps faltered at the entrance.
"Madame, you are all things that are exquisite. Please come forward, Lady St. John, and meet my accomplices," Drummond said looking masculinely resplendent in his black evening attire.
Gabriella gladly placed her gloved hand on the slightly bent arm that Drummond offered her. It was foolish to feel so protected by this gesture, to find strength in Drummond's nearness. She gazed up at him knowing that her uncertainty showed clearly.
He dipped his head slightly, enough so that only she may hear his words. "And you will find that they shall be your loyal champions as well, madame."
With this assurance, he guided her into the formal dining room where five gentlemen resided in varying degrees of posture and noble rank, Gabriella was soon to discover. It was a formidable grouping of noble titles and men. Each man was handsome and distinctive in his own manner. However, simply none were more trim and attractive in their evening wear than Drummond, who stood securely at her side as she curtsied to each man's introduction. Two dukes, two earls, a marquess, a baron, and none of these esteemed gentlemen showed her a moment of lesser regard.
Gabriella nearly sighed in audible relief, during the last introduction to the Earl of Ravenscar, when he proclaimed her enchanting. Both she and Reginald knew the earl personally, although she knew none of the other young aristocrats in the room before this gathering. That it appeared Lord Ravenscar would not directly slight her for her scandalous presence in Drummond's country home. Nor for the deeds of the horrible "sale" this day, gave Gabriella a modicum of her dignity back.
Still, she could not fathom the presence of the five lords here. It was not as if the manor were found in London where all may arrive on a whim. Drummond's estate was over a two-hour ride from London.
"My lady, allow me to seat you for dinner granting these hounds their proper food," Drummond said, as he guided her to a lavishly laid dining table.
There was some hidden meaning in Drummond's words, Gabriella thought, unable to catch its subtlety beneath the varying admiring gazes of the gentlemen around her. She could not remember seeing such appreciation in mens gazes before. It was flattering
and only the slightest bit discomforting to be found attractive by such a grouping of distinguished gentlemen.
When Drummond seated her, he stayed bent over her and for the barest moment his lips grazed her earlobe warmly, as he murmured for her ears only. "The earrings are exquisite on you, madame. However, in that gown, with your breasts bared so, I can only envy my passion pearl and where it must be nested at this very moment."
Gabriella barely stifled her gasp as her cheeks grew warm and Drummond moved to sit at the head of the table directly beside her. She dared not look at anything but the gold-rimmed plate in front of her. She was properly shocked at Drummond's bold dealings, but not in outrage, it was more than a bit thrilling to be flirted with so decadently. However, she had a moment of anxiety because the scandalous little pearl Drummond spoke of was laying quite innocently over her linen drawers and not at all where he envisioned it to be. She chewed the insides of her lip suddenly worried over Drummond's reaction, should he discover this.
"Please, gentlemen, find your seats as you will," Drummond said. "I believe my cook has surpassed himself this eve in honor of Lady Gabriella's presence."
Each man took his place, seeming to Gabriella as if the seating of each man were an arrangement of long standing. Lord Ravenscar sat directly across from her to Drummond's immediate right and next to him was the Duke of Sutherlin with his piratical eye patch that only lent a mysterious quality to his already dark handsomeness. Next to him sat the Marquess of Hartley, with a noticeable silver hook in place of his left hand and the longest, most beautiful brown hair that she had ever seen on a man. The gilded-haired, Baron of Hawkenge took the seat at the end of the elegantly set table, obviously to ease what must be an injured leg up onto a stool, which he promptly did. That left the auburn-haired and colorfully dressed, Laird Duneagan directly beside her to her right. He actually winked at her when he caught her looking at his kilt, which left his knees shockingly bared.
My Lady Series Bundle (1-5) Page 3
