But when they finished eating, he pulled on his trousers and bade her to dress too. She noticed he had some trouble fastening the buttons of his placket because a fat lump kept getting in the way.
“I thought we were going to continue our lessons.” She didn’t mean to pout but she didn’t know how long she’d be able to remain here with her wonderful lover, and she didn’t want to waste a moment.
“We are.” He shot her a grin as he buttoned his shirt. “But it is a lovely day. I thought we would take a stroll. And then later have a picnic in the meadow.”
She sighed. A picnic. How lovely. But what she really wanted was to feast on him.
“This estate has marvelous gardens. I thought we could take a tour.” Her mood did dim a bit at that. A tour of the gardens. Hardly a seductive pursuit. “But before we go, I must have a promise from you, little one.”
Helena glared up at him. Impatience and annoyance and hunger roiled in her belly. “Please don’t call me ‘little one’.”
He smiled. That also annoyed her. It was a smug, doting smile. She longed to wipe it off his face and replace it with the harsh, burning passion of the night before. “What would you like me to call you?”
“Anything but that.”
“I shall have to search for an appropriate appellation.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. Mercy. She was alone with him, here in this romantic bower. He should be kissing her and delighting her and making her weep with passion. Instead he wanted to look at flowers.
She decided, then and there, she hated flowers.
“But in the meantime, little one, I would like your promise.”
She tried desperately not to pout. “Promise what?” Probably not to tramp on the roses.
He tucked a curl behind her ear. “You must do as I say.”
Something in her belly lurched. That sputter of arousal flickered. Blazed. “I b-beg your pardon?”
He tipped his head to the side. His features were arranged in a charming smile, but beneath the surface she saw a tightness, an uncertainty that puzzled her. “During our outing, you must do as I say. Immediately and without hesitation. Do you agree?”
Trepidation, tangled with a thread of lust, wound through her. “But—”
“Remember, this is an instruction. I am teaching you about passion and the many ways people approach their pleasure. Do you have the courage to play along?”
“Yes.” A whisper.
“Because if you don’t have the courage, if this is not something you truly desire, we must stop.”
“No.”
He paled. “What?”
“No. I don’t want to stop.”
He stepped closer. She had the sense that every muscle in his body tightened. “You don’t want to stop?”
“No. I don’t want to stop, James. I want you to show me.” She had liked, loved, everything he’d done so far. She wanted to know more. And she wanted him to teach her.
His throat worked. He blinked several times. His mouth opened and closed. Then he sucked in a breath and said, “So you agree? To do as I say?”
“Immediately and without hesitation.”
“God.” He swept her into his embrace and kissed her. But it wasn’t a ravenous, brutal kiss, not the kiss she’d expected. It was sweet and tender. He worshipped her with slow, hot strokes. “You are perfect, aren’t you?” he said at long last.
“Not hardly.” She grinned. “Occasionally I am beset with the winds.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “I love your sense of humor.”
“And I yours.”
It was a lighthearted flirtation, a casual use of that word, but a warning tugged at her heart. She could, she realized, come to love this man.
And that would be a disaster.
Chapter Six
James escorted Eloise through his gardens, walking side by side with her, fingers twined, showing her one treasure after another. The sun was out but it was a soft, muted kiss. The early morning fog snaked around some of the plants, those nestled in the shadows.
He’d always loved these gardens. As a child, it had been the place he’d come to escape from his uncle’s wrath or his cousin’s incessant teasing. It had been a wild place then, as Uncle Cyril hadn’t cared much for anything other than drinking and wenching. When Cyril and then his son and heir Damon had passed, and James had unexpectedly inherited Darlington, the first thing he’d done was hire an army of gardeners to restore the beauty of the grounds.
He now regretted that decision. For the buggers were everywhere. And being spotted by his staff would scuttle this illicit seduction before it even began.
So when he heard them coming, heard the clink of their implements and the low rumble of their chatter, he caught Eloise around the waist and pulled her back into the shrubbery. She let out a little “eep” which he silenced with a palm.
“Hush,” he whispered. “They’re coming.”
Together, they hovered, deep in that prickly embrace as they waited for the gardeners to pass.
He shouldn’t have been naughty but she tempted him, wriggling against him as she found a comfortable spot. Her enticing bottom, the bottom he longed to spank, nested against his cock. And mischief arose.
He held her close against him in the shadows of a fragrant bush as a team of Darlington gardeners tramped by on their way to work—and slowly insinuated his hand beneath her skirts. Found a fragrant bush of his own. When she realized what he was doing, she let out a peep.
“Shh.” He found her curls, rubbed her slit. She whimpered. “Spread your knees.” A tight whisper.
She shook her head.
“You promised, remember? No hesitation.” Her breath huffed as she considered this, then she softened against him and her legs widened.
A hot, snarling rush of lust raked him at her compliance. He slipped farther into her folds and dabbed at her clitoris. Teased her with tormenting taps. With a damp, hot moan she pushed back against him.
“Hold still,” he whispered. “We don’t want to be discovered.”
And yes. They could be discovered at any second. Another group of gardeners, all young men James had hired, were just coming even with them on the path.
James rubbed harder, circled her nub. Gloried in the slickness he found just a bit lower. He longed to plunge into her cavern, longed to pluck at her nipples, but in this situation, he could not.
She was a vocal little minx, and while he loved hearing her mewl and coo, in this situation it would bring disaster.
Aside from that, in teasing her, he was also teasing himself.
A man could only take so much.
But even though he stringently disciplined himself—holding the line, just on the ragged edge of control—he did not account for her mischief.
As the tromping boots came into his line of sight, that darling tongue, her velvet, snaking tongue, lapped at his palm. His pulse surged. He stiffened. Nearly bellowed. Nearly howled. Nearly flipped up her skirt and fucked her right there.
Because, all hells, she was teasing him.
Indeed, she thrust her bottom back and dragged it in a slow, sultry caress over his cock. Her tongue traced his hand as it clutched over her mouth.
He yanked her closer and plunged his fingers into her cunt.
It was all he could do to hold in his feral growl as her channel clenched around him. He could tell from her hot, panting moans, the restless twitch of her ass, she was aroused. Probably close.
He would not give her surcease.
The wench had thought to tease him.
She would pay for that.
After the gardeners passed, she found his mouth, kissed him, kissed him with a rabid passion a woman so new to this should not possess.
He loved that she did.
“James. That was so exciting.”
“Umm. It was.” He withdrew from her steamy cove and tweaked a nipple. “You should have behaved.”
“What?” Her eyes went wide
, luminous. But he saw it there, that light. The one he craved.
“You promised to behave.”
“I did behave.”
“I was very clear. I told you to hold still. You did not hold still. You rubbed against me.”
“Only a tiny bit.”
“Regardless, you disobeyed.” He tried very hard to look stern. “You are going to have to do better.”
She dropped her gaze but a small smile played on her lips. “I’ll try.”
He bit back a grin. “See that you do. Now, shall we continue our walk?”
He helped her to her feet and guided her back to the path, taking a moment to pluck a fragrant rosebud from a bush as they passed. This, he tucked into his pocket, swallowing a chortle at the evil intent skirling through his decadent imagination.
But now. Where to take her?
Without knowing their schedule, he couldn’t avoid all the gardeners. James had only been Lord Darlington for six months or so, so there was much work underway. To be safe, he led Eloise in the direction of the potting shed, which he knew was rarely used since a new orangery and propagation facility had been constructed on the east side of the stables.
And the first time he’d seen her, she’d been hunkered in that shed.
The desire to seduce her there had lingered in his mind ever since.
But blast. As they came around the bend, he saw Uncle Andrew rapping on the door with his cane.
“Quick.” He tugged Eloise into yet another bush.
“But it’s Andrew—”
“Hush. We can’t let him see us.”
“Why not?”
James stared at Eloise. He could hardly tell her the truth.
Because he will likely call me by my title and that will ruin everything.
He opted for the truth, rolled in a lie. “He’s a chatterbox. If he sees us, he’ll want to talk and once he begins, it’s impossible to stop him.”
She accepted this with a tiny nod. Clearly even she, in her ignorance, understood that the mood he’d fomented back in the gardens would be snuffed out in a rant about the evil Fairy King.
“Halloo.” Uncle Andrew rapped on the door of the potting shed again and, when there was no answer, he opened it and peered inside. “Humph. She’s gone.” He puffed out his cheeks and surveyed the clearing, then toddled over to a fallen log and rapped it with his cane. “Hallo, girlie. Are you in there?”
“Dear me.” Eloise lurched forward as though she intended to respond to this summons. James yanked her back.
“No, you don’t,” he hissed in her ear. And then to make his point, he took possession of her breast. “He’ll leave soon enough.” She sucked in a gasp as he found and plucked her nipple. Because he couldn’t resist, he slipped his hand inside her bodice and did it again—skin to skin.
Her sigh was slightly unsteady.
“Do you like that?”
“Yes. Yes.”
“Hush now. We don’t want Uncle Andrew to hear.”
She stilled. “Uncle Andrew?”
He made a face at his faux pas. Then decided it might be best to…lie again. “Everyone calls him Uncle Andrew.”
“Oh.”
He distracted her with a nibble at her neck. And then he distracted himself. She tasted so delicious, and her shivers in reaction to his laps and nips were diverting. He kept an eye on Uncle Andrew though. He knew exactly when the old man gave up on his search for his wayward fairy and tromped off into the woods, grumbling to himself.
James released a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. His cock was hard and insistent, pressed against Eloise as it was, and he hadn’t had her yet this morning, though he had awoken with a hearty appetite. Instead, he’d corralled his passion and headed for Mrs. Miller’s kitchen to collect food for breakfast and a picnic for later.
Now, at midmorning, after watching her eat without a stitch of clothing on—at his command—and an hour or so of toying with her in the gardens, he was ravenous. He wanted her someplace private. And he wanted her naked again.
Why he hadn’t fucked her this morning, he couldn’t say, other than he had truly enjoyed the anticipation of sinking into her again.
But enough restraint was enough.
“Come along, darling.” He took her wrist and tugged her toward the potting shed. Why he crouched as he sprinted across the clearing, like a criminal on the run, he didn’t know.
He was certain, however, absolutely certain, he did not want to be seen. By anyone.
The beast in his belly had awakened and he wanted nothing more than to splay Eloise on the floor of the potting shed and fuck her like an animal.
Now.
The door closed behind them, sealing them into a dark, musty bower. There were windows but they were so smudged the sunlight could barely break through. Helena could see James looming over her but she couldn’t see his features.
“Take off your dress.”
A shudder racked her at his tone. She rushed to comply—with no hesitation. He’d kept her aroused and wanting all morning. She could not bear to wait any longer. “It’s off.” She figured she ought to tell him because he surely couldn’t see.
“Lay it on the ground.”
She did so. Carefully, spreading it out like a blanket. The smell of the old shed curled around her, the aroma of soil and rain and earth. And James. The scents wove together, became one in her mind. “Done.”
He stroked the small of her back. She wasn’t sure if he was just checking to be sure she was naked, or if he simply couldn’t resist a caress. She didn’t care.
“Now, I want you on your hands and knees on the floor.”
“James?”
He twined his fingers in her hair and gave it a gentle tug. “Now, Eloise. Please don’t give me another reason to punish you.”
Punish her? Her heart leapt. “Another r-reason?”
“Yes, my sweet.” He kissed her temple. “You tried to tease me earlier. Do not deny it.”
She put out a lip, though he couldn’t see it. “I tried?”
He chuckled. “You successfully teased me, then.” Another warm buss. “Now, darling, obey my command.”
Without hesitation, she dropped to her hands and knees. It was an odd position and hardly a natural one for a lady raised in a prim-and-proper finishing school.
In that, she liked it.
He came down beside her. His warmth enfolded her. “Do you know what I am going to do now, Eloise?” he whispered.
“N-no.”
“I’m going to tease you. And you’re going to take it. You aren’t going to move or plead or cry out. And you will not come. Do you understand?”
She did. Heavens, she did. “Y-yes.”
“Very good. Close your eyes.”
The room was pitch black, she couldn’t see a thing, but somehow closing her eyes increased her feeling of helplessness.
He made a quick pass over her body, finding where everything was located. It was swift, impersonal, but left her wanting more. He took her hair in a bunch, coiling it and setting it in a long rope over one shoulder so it hung down. “Are they closed?”
“Yes.”
And he began.
The first touch was but a whisper, a mere tracing of her spine. Hardly something lurid or illicit, but it sent a bubble of dampness easing from her nonetheless. She shifted.
“Hold still. No moving.” And then he corrected himself. “Shift your knees farther apart.”
Naturally, she complied. He skated his palm over her bottom—she could have sworn it hesitated and twitched—and then it traveled down one thigh and up the other. He found her slit, a light, tender touch. His other hand did the same at her nape, then her shoulder and then down and around, tormenting her beasts—but wait. It was velvety smooth. It didn’t feel like skin.
“What is that?”
“Hush, darling.”
“James!”
His chuckle rumbled around her. “A rose.”
She sighed as
he rubbed the silky bud around her breast again. He didn’t touch her nipple, which made her want to lurch and groan and thrust herself toward him. Whenever she moved, even the slightest bit, he would stop and a snarling ache for more would possess her.
He was ruthless, her James. He tormented her forever with that luscious bloom, until her knees shook and her arms ached and she wept with desire.
“Please.” A tiny pant, a helpless plea.
“Hush, darling. We don’t want anyone to hear.”
Which was ludicrous. The shed was enrobed in silence, everything was muted and dim. But her passion flared brightly enough to blind them both.
When he finally nudged her throbbing button with the rosebud, she nearly collapsed.
“Enough of that,” he said and tossed the flower to the side. She gusted a sigh of relief but it quickly rose to a moan when he scraped his knuckles over the same spot. “Ah.” He delved deeper. “Holy hell. You’re so wet.” His voice, his fingers, as they slid inside her, shook. She was glad this discovery discomfited him. She was in agony. She clenched around him and he yanked out. “None of that, Eloise.”
The slap to her bottom was light and playful but this time her entire body clenched. She didn’t know why she craved another. Was she was depraved for wanting it so?
She hardly cared.
She opened her mouth to beg for another just as a small scratch came at the door.
They both immediately froze.
“Don’t move,” James hissed. She heard him shuffle over to the door.
“Halloo. My fairy girl. Are you in there?”
Her heart fell—even as a manic laugh hovered in her throat. It was Uncle Andrew. And he was about to barge in on them. Heavens. What a disaster.
Indeed, just then the latch rattled.
But the door didn’t open.
A grunt and a groan and a muted profanity floated around her as some unseen battle took place at the portal.
And then the scuffle ended. With an annoyed snort, the muttering voice receded.
When Andrew was gone, James opened the door and peered out to make sure they were truly alone. As he did, sunlight flooded in.
Dark Fancy Page 5
