A jealous expression formed briefly on the countess’s face. “Beauty? Harumph! She’s as dull as dishwater—a drab. Always has been to my mind. But remember, Spencer, you only have two weeks to accomplish your task. Abscond with my funds without finishing the job, and I will see you end up in a debtor’s cell—or worse. Take my word on it.”
Griff ignored her acidic threat and asked blandly, “Will you be going out this evening, Countess?”
“I accepted a dinner invitation to the Bruttons’, and afterwards, we’ll be attending the Matterlys’ ball. I’m sure it will be a total crush and will last until the wee hours.”
“Then, don’t fear, Auntie, I shall attend to what needs to be done while you are out.”
“See that you do,” she replied with an evil glint in her blue eyes.
* * * *
Before she left the house for the evening, Agina insisted the three share an aperitif. The footman had already poured the wine and a full glass was left on the tray for Dulcie when she appeared.
She attempted to refuse the drink, but her stepmother said, “My dear, when are you going to do what you are told? A small amount of wine will loosen your inhibitions. You must learn to be more vivacious. You never were, you recall, hiding yourself away when we first met, rusticating like a clod at Bonne Vista. It is time you know how to behave out in Society.”
I kept myself away from you, because I didn’t like you then, Mother. Nor do I like you any better now.
Dulcie was reminded of the earlier years when the countess had hurt the feelings of an impressionable, lonely girl just coming into womanhood. You did nothing but put me down. About my speech, my appearance, my habits. I lost confidence in myself. Not until you left Surrey to live in London with my father did it begin to grow back. I was comfortable then and glad to be away from your nitpicking.
Dulcie tuned back into what the countess was saying.
“As soon as the balance of your new wardrobe is delivered, you may make morning calls with me and my nephew. And attend parties when he accompanies us.”
“Yes, I should like that, Mother,” Dulcie replied amicably. She wrapped her fingers dutifully around the stem of the crystal goblet, sipping at the wine while the countess chattered on about where she was going and what she was doing for the rest of the evening.
Griff said nothing about his plans.
The wine consumed, the countess rang for Bender to bring her outerwear. A carriage, its driver, and two liveried footmen waited at the front steps to transport Agina to the evening’s activities. As soon as she left, Griff escorted Dulcie into the small breakfast room where they would sup, rather than in the elegant, formal dining room.
Supper was concluded more quickly than usual. There was little conversation between the diners, but Griff managed a few more anecdotes about his youth, leaving out any references to his libertine behavior. When Dulcie rose to excuse herself, Griff pleaded with her to keep him company a while longer.
She nodded and acquiesced. They strolled together to the small downstairs parlor. Dulcie drank second glass of wine at supper simply because her throat felt raw and dry. She yearned for a saucer of tea to quench her thirst.
There was a cozy fire warming the spring night in the parlor. A few lamps glowed on tables sitting around the room. The light was relatively dim and formed an aura of comfort and warmth on the dark-colored, silk-covered walls.
“You’re staying in tonight, Mr. Spencer? Why?” Dulcie blurted rather abruptly.
“Because I want to get to know you better, and this is a good time.” He stood within an arm’s distance, facing her. “Don’t you think so?”
“I suppose so. But why would you want to, really?” she asked curiously. Her question sounded too blunt even as she asked it.
“Because I like you, that’s why.” The edge of his top teeth gleamed between his lips when he grinned. “I believe I told you that soon after we met.” His smile was charm personified. “I find you rather unusual and quite amusing.”
“You must think me odd, then, Mr. Spencer. My stepmother certainly thinks so.”
“Perhaps, but you interest me. And please, call me Griff. An evening spent with you seems rather opportune.” He focused on her face where they paused near the open doorway to the parlor. “Didn’t you notice something pulling between us?” he asked with one brow lifted in rakish inquiry. “I did.”
His out-of-the-blue query flustered Dulcie, and she felt a blush warm her cheeks. Her thoughts were in a bit of a muddle. What was wrong with her? It seemed she had experienced something like this before. Or was it in a dream? She blinked away the notion and asked, “Well, er, sir, is there some reason for me to pursue the mystery?”
“What better reason then to find out?” he asked, answering her with a question. “We’re alone,” he added softly, “so now we can explore it.”
“Explore what?” Her brain had gone numb. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Suppose I said…explore the idea of matrimony?”
“Marriage?” Dulcie’s surprised look snapped upward at Griff, nailing him with a glance from behind her clear lenses. “Mr. Spencer, I believe you have been bamboozled senseless by my dear stepmother.”
Dulcie’s dislike of the countess was clearly undisguised by her sardonic retort.
“What if I wasn’t, Dulcie?” Griff continued. “Bamboozled by her, I mean? What if I can convince you, all by myself, that I am quite serious?”
“Hah! I’d laugh in your face. You are both foolish and absurd. Just because my stepmother says I must find a husband, it doesn’t mean I shall follow her wishes.” Dulcie cocked a quizzical eyebrow at him. “And I certainly don’t mean you must either. She must have struck you in the brain-box with something quite powerful, Mr. Spencer, otherwise…”
He interrupted. “I asked you to call me Griff. Please do so when we are alone, will you?”
“Oh… sorry, Griff. I forgot. What I said…what I meant…” She found she was having difficulty hanging onto her own thoughts. “What I meant to say, was that you spout nonsense.” Another wave of heat washed over her goose-bumped skin. “I think…” She had to catch her breath and swallow while she paused in the midst of her diatribe. “I seem to recall telling you that I don’t want or need a husband, that I am not here to marry anyone.”
She couldn’t remember exactly what she said, because she seemed to be drawing blanks. Good heavens! Has my brain gone soft?
She knew she had been rude, so she blinked her eyes once or twice to regain her composure. Her gaze suddenly fixed on the erotic cleft in his chin, daring her to reach out and place a finger in it. Once again, she was drawn by an irresistible force she couldn’t understand. Her hand twitched, jerked, as if forcing her to caress the delicious indentation.
Omigod! What am I doing? I need to stop this insanity now.
Dulcie quickly spun away from Griff and almost ran across the room. “Er, I think I’d like some t-tea now,” she said over her shoulder, giving the bell pull a yank. “Would you like some?” Her tongue seemed coated by cat fur. It was difficult for her to speak clearly and enunciate precisely.
“No,” he replied. “I’ll take a brandy instead.”
Bender answered Dulcie’s summons almost immediately, and she stumbled through ordering a tea tray and a dish of sweet cakes. She said nothing about Simon being brought down, because she knew a footman had already taken the dog outside to relieve himself.
Experiencing a sudden weakness, discombobulated, and plagued by the unreasonable thickness in her speech, Dulcie made it to one of the loveseats facing the fireplace. Her legs might have collapsed under her otherwise. Pulling herself together, she inhaled deeply and attempted to relax. Within seconds, fiery bursts of fever ran rampant across her skin, compounded by a slightly breathlessness that dampened her brow with perspiration. Was she catching a new ague? A childhood pox? A debilitating fever that would lay her low? She rarely fell ill, but its presence coming on so quickly was very
frightening.
She searched her brain. Could it be something she ate, or, perhaps she was sitting too close to the fire? Could fumes from the coal have affected her equilibrium? Or was the magnetic personality of Griffith Spencer what caused the problem?
Tiny drops of sweat formed on Dulcie’s brow. She hadn’t brought a fan with her, but she pulled out a small handkerchief and surreptitiously wiped at her damp forehead. Probably she should have moved away from the heat. Unfortunately, just then Griff joined her and lounged beside her.
With a sharp rap on the parlor door, Bender arrived with the tea tray. Dulcie jumped up unexpectedly; her balance wavering until she braced her calves against the couch. “Do you suppose we might open a window?” she asked the butler. “I find the air in here rather stuffy.”
The butler put the tray down on a table next to the settee. Glancing at her strangely, he did as she asked. “I shall lock up later, Lady Dulcina, when you have left the room.”
“Thank you, Bender.” Dulcie waved the handkerchief in front of her face. “I need a cool breath of air.”
When the butler left, Griff motioned to her. “We needn’t shout, do we, Dulcie? Please sit down next to me.”
“As you wish.” A bit woozy, she acquiesced, definitely needing to sit.
“Did I tell you that you look quite lovely tonight? Your gown suits you.” Griff leaned closer, swiveling on the cushions until their faces were less than a foot apart.
When she met his gaze, it was like charged lightning. Dulcie paused, again feeling that wild urge to touch his smooth, chiseled cheek, his inviting, dimpled chin. What in the world had put totally improper notions leaping into her head?
“Oh! How nice of you to n-notice. I mean…” Her speech stuttered again. “I never th-thought much…” She licked her dry lips. “…of how I dressed. Not until my-my stepmother ordered me to London.” She dropped her gaze to her lap. “Besides, she told me already…I mean, I confess…well, she said I wasn’t pretty enough to attract men.
S-so you needn’t gammon me, Mr. Spencer.”
* * * *
Griff’s glance deftly roved Dulcie’s countenance, realizing she wasn’t nearly as plain as he had earlier thought. He liked the faint golden glow of her skin and the roses in her cheek when she blushed. He had liked the way she looked this morning and this afternoon, haloed by sunlight in the Square. He also liked the unusual candor and untutored naïveté he encountered whenever they spoke. There was much he could teach her. It wouldn’t be a hardship to debauch or even wed the countess’s stepdaughter, he realized.
Reaching toward her, Griff said, “The countess was wrong, Dulcie.” He raised her chin up with a single finger so she could look into his eyes. “And, please do not address me as Mr. Spencer again. You irk me when you do that. I told you my good friends call me Griff, and I mean to be your friend.”
She nodded briefly.
Lady Dulcina had first interested Griff because of her inherited wealth, but he now noticed her forehead and delicately shaped brows arched above the gold-rimmed spectacles perching on her small nose. When he peered through the lenses, he noted again that her eyes were her best feature. They tilted up at the corners, fringed with thick, dark lashes. Her jaws converged at a pointed chin that could, possibly, be obstinate if given a chance. He remembered the swift reply, the adamant tone she took when she defended her pet from her stepmother.
His wandering gaze lowered to the generously rounded contours of her bosom, wondering what she wore beneath the fashionable gown. The breasts he appraised were high, youthful, and deliciously enticing. They would be warm and full, like ripe pomegranates, filling his palms when he got around to exposing them. The sudden idea of tasting and suckling those rosy nipples tightened his groin muscles. He experienced a powerful, sudden stab of lust where he felt his need growing. His cock took note, lengthened under his breeches, his balls sending out rabid sex signals. It had been a while since such a tasty, feminine morsel had looked so…inviting, so touchable.
And touch her he would, later, Griff swore silently. Bloody hell! The temptation grew stronger by the moment. She was more than tempting, he decided—more than pretty. Besides, she was going to be very rich…and, he knew, too, she was readily available for seduction.
Firelight burnished shades of red and gold amidst her abundant tresses. Highlights flickered in brown eyes that looked almost coy, when she lowered her lashes, fluttering like butterfly wings behind the gold-rimmed lenses.
Abruptly, Griff reached out and gently removed her spectacles, folding the earpieces, and placing the frame on a nearby table.
Dulcie blinked several times when he took them off her nose. She hurried to retrieve them. “Wh—What are you doing? Give my spectacles back this minute.”
“Later. I wish to see the real you behind them.” He grabbed her hand and held it, saying, “You needn’t be frightened. I won’t hurt you.”
He spoke reassuringly, but even he wondered if he told the truth. Already his forceful desire was growing. He was anxious, even nervous, in a hurry to fulfill his debt to the countess. He looked down at Dulcie’s hand lying in his with its short fingernails and round, snowy edges—a hand so smooth and small in comparison. He rubbed lightly across the fragile knuckles, enjoying the feel of her skin. Whispering low, he remarked, “Your skin is as soft as silk.” His eyes met hers again. “And I didn’t realize how lovely you really are without those damn spectacles.”
She colored quickly after his words and burning glance.
“Do you always blush when a man touches you?” he asked, continuing to caress her hand while changing the subject.
“W-What?” she asked, showing signs of maidenly distress.
“I asked, Dulcie, if a man has ever touched you, intimately.”
“Oh! No, of course not. Never.”
It’s true, then. She doesn’t remember what occurred between us last night. She is acting very strange, however. Her speech is…slurred, and she’s hesitating. It’s not like her.
An idea crossed his mind. Could the witch have dosed her with something, slipped it into her wine when neither she nor I noticed? I have no reason to think so, but after the way she behaved with me last night, maybe…
Griff leaned closer. “I’m touching you now, Dulcie. Do you mind? Do you like what I’m doing?”
“No, er, yes,” she answered, sounding confused.
He saw Dulcie’s forehead was perspiring. He also felt the cushions of the settee under their backsides quivering as if she were reaching out to him in desperation.
“Dulcie? Are you all right?”
“No,” she choked, swallowing. “No, I’m not feeling well at all. Perhaps I should…”
He drew her toward him, to help her stand. “Come, I’ll help you above stairs…”
Before he could act, Dulcie threw herself into Griff’s arms, clinging to his neck so tightly, so resolutely, that her grip bordered on panic.
Automatically, he wrapped his arms around her. If she had been given a potion to aid in her wantonness, he suddenly realized he was having identical reactions, though not nearly as intense. Heat and desire had infused him with desire, a growing, fervent hunger to plunge into a woman, and take his release inside her.
At this moment, Dulcie was available and, it seemed, quite willing.
Griff fought the unruly want burgeoning like a bonfire in his loins, watching confusion and fear growing on Dulcie’s face, saw her struggling against what an aphrodisiac was doing to her, quite unable to understand it. She had no way of knowing what only he could do—to give her release from agonizing, sexual need, metamorphosed into waves of delicious, carnal ecstasy.
His jaws clenched, aware Dulcie’s pleasure would also assuage his own. Would that be so wrong?
Dulcie begged silently for help, purring in supplication as she rubbed herself against him like a feline in heat, asking him to soothe her crimping nerve endings. Her first awkward kiss pressed tightly against his mouth. It wa
s so passionate and needy that Griff sucked in air before kissing her back
Her arms clung to him, her lips crushed insistently against his.
A deep craving reared its powerful head. Griff found himself growing more amorous, searching for release. His cock swelled, bringing his half-fogged wits back to rest against Dulcie’s nubile body. He kissed the lips that were temptingly soft and ripe. He saw she was doing her naïve best to seduce him—innocence personified. She must be on fire, too, passion igniting fiery tongues of desire raging through her nervous system. Trying to control what was happening to himself, sweat dampened Griff’s callused palms. The sex potion hadn’t turned him into a ravening beast, but it would force him to finish what the countess wanted. Could he tame his oversized cock so he wouldn’t plunge into Dulcie so deep and hard the first time that he might really hurt her?
Griff slanted his wet mouth over Dulcie’s, holding her closer. “I know what you need, Dulcie. Let me give it to you,” he whispered, his breath hot and heavy against her lips. “Relax, dear heart. I promise I’ll make you feel better if you let me.”
Dulcie had crawled onto his lap, nuzzling his neck, sucking his skin like a young infant searching for a milky teat.
Quite suddenly, she slumped, resting against his chest. Only her bosom pumped as she panted heavily against the collar of his jacket.
“’Twill be all right, and…”
From out of the blue, she ranted at him. “Blast! Hurry, it up, Griff!” Dulcie grabbed his lapels. “Can you see I’m burning up? Can’t you do something!” She choked the words out as if it were difficult for her to breathe. She bit him hard on the neck, pinching his skin with her front teeth until he bled. Next, she pulled back and plunged her tongue wildly into his open mouth, sucking hard on his.
He almost came in his breeches.
He’d been ordered to ravish Lady Dulcie, and he would, not simply because he wanted her, but because his rabid lust took precedence over anything else. Dulcie was voracious under the influence of this love potion. She had him so hot he couldn’t think straight. The compound must have increased his sexual neediness as well. Should he feel a twinge of conscience about what he was doing, it would be because he fucked Dulcie for both their sakes, penetrated her wet cavity, seeking release and pleasurable gratification. His hands slid stealthily upward, reaching the soft undersides of Dulcie’s breasts.
Carnal Pleasures Page 12
