by Owner
tears that were not of the crocodile variety! "Oh, please Dorian, I do not
wish to hurt you.”
The heaving torso suddenly stilled and his mouth relinquished its fierce bite
on her shoulder. She felt him readjust and his weight was redistributed to
his arms as he looked down at her.
What emotion was deep in his eyes she did not know, but he licked his lips,
then bobbed his head and licked hers.
"It is a good pain,” he replied with a voice that was deep and gruff.
“You promise?” she asked, biting her lip.
He nodded. Somberly. “A very good pain. Desist,” he commanded as she
continued to nibble at the flesh of her mouth. “It’s my lip to bite.”
She smiled faintly at him and as their eyes met, his hips rocked. Tension
ripped through her again. Her neck arched and her back tautened as she
reacted to the move. Pain fluttered over her face like a death mask and he
grunted at the sight. She stifled a shriek as he grabbed her shoulders to him
and spun them around so that he now lay on the floor and Lily atop him.
Her body readjusted to this new position and her eyes widened at the bare
torso that she was looking at. With wondering fingers, she traced her hands
along the curved muscles and the hardened flesh. She had never seen a
torso like it. It was . . . quite, quite beautiful. Almost as though it had been
carved by Michelangelo! As she traced her fingers along the muscled flesh,
she sat up and this movement had her closing her eyes for a moment. It
seemed . . . his hardness, well, it seemed almost deeper inside her!
How she wished she were free to ask him questions! If she were married to
him, then she would do naught but quench her curiosity. But she wasn't his
wife and the thought flashed pain once more along her features.
His hands came up to cup her breasts and they pinched at the taut tips. She
laughed and wriggled her hips at the sensation that flooded through her, but
then he ceased and dropped his hands to her hips. "Ride me like you would
your horse,” he commanded.
She jolted at the suggestion but did as he bade, as his hands instructed. Her
own fingers spread out against the breadth of his chest as she began to ride
him as he had suggested. Lily bit her lip. As she did so, a frown creased her
brow as the sensations that tore through her threatened to rip her asunder.
Shallow breaths escaped her mouth as she felt him rub tortuously against
every part of her insides and then, she cried out. For his hand had returned
to its earlier playing ground and that hillock, that strange little hillock, was
once more being caressed. Almost as though that fed her body, she began
to move faster. Faster and faster until her flesh glistened in the firelight from
the sweat that her exertion bore, until her breathing was labored and her
face stiffened as she sought that earlier tension that had been the harbinger
of such pleasure the likes of which she had never even known existed.
When it came, she cried out. Her own cries in tune with his as he grunted
and groaned, as they shared that blasting bolt of power that sizzled through
her body as though it were a lightning bolt. Their bodies tense and taut as
they strained against the other, she clung to him and he to her and then she
sank. Down and down until she collapsed against his chest and rested.
Moments later, his body relaxed and she sank deeper into him. His breathing
grew smoother, more regulated, and more even as he drifted into sleep.
But he still managed to tear her pride asunder.
"Camille."
That was his last word before he completely succumbed to slumber.
****
A slight shiver racked her frame as she awoke, minutes perhaps hours later.
The latter had her panicking, but her body was far too languorous to move
swiftly. As she wriggled her hips a little, she realized that they were no
longer joined and felt grief at the thought, for she had enjoyed their
'joining’, far more than was right or decent and more than she had ever
imagined possible.
Slowly, she lifted herself away from him and managed to roll from his body
without overly disturbing him. He rolled on to his side and faced the now-
dying fire and as he did, she realized that was the source of her cold. The
embers glowed a merry red, but they did not emit much heat.
Biting her lip, she stood on shaky legs and almost dropped to the floor as
pain ripped through her from inside out. Her mouth turned into a moue of
discomfort as she hobbled to her feet and sought out her chemise and cloak.
Her legs ached from the cramped position, but the soreness in between her
thighs was the direct source of her discomfort. She winced as she bent down
and touched that area, patting it tenderly as though that would sooth it, but
it did naught.
Flinching as she moved, Lily reached for her chemise and tugged it on over
her head. For a moment, she seated herself on the chair he had earlier used
and spread her legs. In the light of the candles, she noticed that there was
blood on her thighs, and, at the unwelcome reminder, all that she had
earlier blocked out upon entering this room returned and she bowed her
head against it.
How she wished that she had the freedom to touch him once more. To let
her hands curl in his hair and to stroke the sinews of his back . . . but this
was more than likely the last time she would be able to touch or even see
him so intimately. Feeling unbearably sad at the thought, she attempted to
secrete everything that had happened that night, so she could tuck it away
in a box in her memory. From the pleasure to the pain, it could not be
forgotten.
She recalled his savagery, his roughness as he touched her, then she
recalled the delicacy of his fingers against her skin and the gentleness as he
guided her into moving atop him . . . . The contrast made her close her
eyes. It had been almost as though he cared for her, loved her, as though
she were the only woman on this Earth.
Her eyes sought him out once more and they softened as they took in his
sleeping form. Like a child, he was curled into the position a babe took, his
body loose and lax as he slept the sleep of the innocent.
If only she were so innocent.
Wincing at the thought, she realized that now, her good name and honor
was truly gone. With him here, it did not feel as gargantuan as it was, but
she knew it would hit her as soon as she left this house. With Dorian, it
mattered not for this evening had merely doubled her opinion that this was
the man to whom she was supposed to belong, yet the Fates had seen
otherwise and ruined it for her.
For with her loose behavior, regardless of her virgin state, he would never
want her as his wife. And almost as though she were not suffering enough,
she recalled the last word on his mouth before he fell into slumber . . .
Camille. And Lily recalled who Camille was . . . his dead wife.
Oh, the agony. Had he thought Lily to be his dead wife?
Shame coiled through her, followed closely by pain and anguish. She
realized, as her heart broke, that the deep emotions s
he had placed into this
act were felt solely by her about him. He was obviously still in love with his
dead wife.
Her eyes filled with hurt, she looked at him with unseen reproach.
Had he thought her a dream? A vision of his Camille?
Shaking like an old woman, she stood and bent down for her cloak.
Wrapping herself in the expanse of material, she stalked from the fireplace
and the set of armchairs and towards the door and then froze.
Her mouth opened and closed for a moment as she looked at the portrait
that could almost have been herself.
The dress was now out of fashion, the hair was a different color, but the face
. . . . It was almost like looking at herself.
She felt sick.
No wonder he had mistaken her for Camille, not when the resemblance was
so unbelievably uncanny.
How long she stood there, examining the painting, she did not know and
only when she heard Dorian toss on the floor a little, was Lily once more
brought to re-awareness. She had to escape this nightmare. Escape before
he awoke. The thought of him awakening before she departed filled her with
unbridled horror.
Clutching her cloak about her, she swept out of the door and quietly stepped
into the hallway. Opening the front door with the key she had used earlier,
she relocked it and then stepped down the stairs and returned to the
pathway. She turned to look at the house and as she did, Lily was filled with
a poignancy that had her almost weeping. How she wished that she would
never have to see him again . . . but her heart, her foolish, foolish heart, felt
almost like weeping at the loss.
Lily shook her head to clear it and then looked about her. Not much time
had passed, as she had earlier feared upon reawakening. Yes, the sky had
begun to lighten but not terribly so. It was still dark.
Only a few hours, if that, had passed, yet it felt almost as though it were a
lifetime.
She shook her head again and spying the carriage, Lily rushed to it and into
it. Once inside, she sucked in a breath of relief to be out of that house, but it
was short lived.
“You have done as asked?”
The words came out of the dark and had her almost squealing with fright.
Not having known that she was sharing the carriage with anyone, she felt
almost like expiring from the shock.
Realizing it was her blackmailer, she attempted to squint into the darkness
but the candle had now been extinguished and she could see nothing. How
she wished she could see his face and know who was behind this awful deed!
“Did you?” he repeated impatiently, his voice angry now, even though only a
few seconds had passed.
“Yes,” she whispered shakily, swallowing convulsively as she waited for his
response.
Hearing the sounds of movements, she launched against the cushions and
tried to take herself into the corner of the carriage, but to no avail. He
reached for her, she felt his fingers dig into her skin, then grasped her by
the knee and spread her legs.
She cried out, wondering what he was doing and her arms began to hit at
him. Was he about to attack her?
“Hush!” he spat and his fingers trailed clinically along the length of her thigh,
obviously in search of more physical evidence than her word. "Good,” he
murmured, and he realized that he must have felt the blood that she had
seen there earlier.
“You beast! You devil,” she spat. “I have indeed ruined myself for you!
Although to what ill, I'm not sure!”
“It is not for you to question, merely to do!”
She hissed under her breath. “It may do you no good at all,” she whispered,
her voice tinged with both pain and glee. “I am quite certain he thought it
was his wife and not I at all.”
“That is all to the good. Be sure to remember that when I require your . . .
services . . . I shall send you a missive.”
She tensed. He wanted her to go through with that again?
Her mouth opened to protest, but she shut it soon after. What was the
point? He would merely threaten her mama, and, were he to do so tonight,
after this most emotional of nights, she thought she would burst into tears!
Could she go through with that again?
Would it not rip her heart in two?
And the more often she did it, would she not risk being caught?
How she longed to argue with the blackmailer, to tell him to go to the dogs
and be damned, but he would more than likely hurt her by slapping her and
that would do no one any good.
She ducked her head and sat in silence, trying fiercely to accept what was
and ready herself for another time and another place, when she would have
to meet Dorian and seduce him yet again.
The carriage came to a halt and from the blackmailer's rustling, she knew he
was about to take his leave. The door opened and he jumped out. "Be ready
and waiting. Do not disobey me.”
She felt terror course through her at the prospect of their next meeting.
Closing her eyes, she sank back into the carriage seat. The horses' started
up once again and she shook her head against what that man had forced her
into doing.
Shame rained down upon her like an April shower, and, with it, bitterness
and sadness were intermingled. Never had she felt so low, so down and
when the horses once more came to a halt and she realized that she was to
depart, Lily knew that only a dose of laudanum would help her to sleep this
night.
She had forever lost the right to a night of innocent slumber and felt that
loss as keenly as she felt the loss of her father.
Chapter Six
With a slight grin on her face, Lily walked through her aunt and uncle's front
door before turning to Janie excitedly. "I can't believe how good a find that
was, Janie. Marvelous. I've been seeking something of that nature for the
duration of the Season! It will go perfectly with the shot-silver satin I’ve
been planning on wearing to attend the Duchess of Hamptons' ball. Such
good fortune.”
Her eyes look heavenward at Janie's sour look and as they did, she noticed
the bluer than blue sky and a happy smile lit her face. Nature was so
beautiful. It was difficult to remember how wonderful it could be in London.
At the estate, it was as easy as sin.
Wherever one looked, one could see the miracle that was nature. From the
snowy peaked mountains, and the babbling brooks that were clearer than
the prettiest diamond, to the sounds of animals on the home farms and the
scents of clean and pure air . . . Heavenly.
Not for the first time since her arrival in the capital, she wondered how on
earth year-round residents of the city could stand the filthy air. A simple
stroll around the shopping arcades had one feeling as though one were in
dire need of a bath, so bad was it! She wondered if the majority of people
did not notice it and that perhaps, she was just difficult . . . . That sounded
quite correct and she had to hide a smile at the thought.
Moving her gaze away from the beautiful, clear as a mountain spring sky,
she focused on Janie's scowling face.
“Aye, good fortune is the right word, miss. Sixty pounds! Sixty pounds on a
necklace.” The maid shook her head and Lily hid a smile as Aunt Millie's
elderly and set-in-his-ways butler glared at the older woman, obviously
disapproving of her tone.
It wasn't done to chide the mistress, after all, at least not in this household.
In her own home, Janie ruled the roost for the most part and had done since
her days as the nursery maid. Lily was therefore used to being chided and
chivied along. Indeed, she was quite sure she would miss her maid's
reprimands were she to cease being such a bossy boots!
Lily caught Rodgers' eye and shook her head, the motion so tiny that Janie
didn't see it. A man of Rodgers' possession was trained to catch such a slight
move and so, the message was received in silence. He flushed with
discomfort but lowered his head in understanding.
Janie's brash outspokenness was one of the major reasons why Lily loved
her. Yes, loved her.
“It isn't done,” the maid said, completely unaware of the disapproval in the
air. “Your mother or brother should be buying your jewelry, Miss Lily. You
can't just walk into Hemingtons and spend sixty pounds on a necklace! And
all those gentleman there, smirking at us as they made their own purchases.
Why, I've never been so embarrassed in all my life! Why you had to choose
that jeweler is beyond me! I swear you do it to have me flush with
discomfort, Miss Lily! You always were a naughty girl! I should have spanked
you more. I knew it at the time that I was making a rod for my own back,
but you'd start to whimper and cry and I'd roll over like a naughty puppy!
And now, the Good Lord is avenging my laxness. I knew the day would come
. . . I'd just hoped that it wouldn't be so soon!”
Lily chuckled and hid another smile as Rodgers jerked with yet more
disapproval. She stepped into the front hall and allowed Janie to remove her
pelisse before pulling the finger of each glove away from her hand. "I could
not help that that particular set of jewelry was in that jeweler's now could I,
Janie? I also could not help that it caught my eye! I've been seeking
something of that nature for far too long to simply walk away from it
because it was an establishment for gentlemen.
