by HELEN HARDT
“Ally,” Sophie said, “I do wish you would reconsider. The railway is still new. Perhaps traveling by coach would be safer.”
“No,” Evan said.
“You don’t trust our coachmen?” Ally asked.
“Yes, yes, of course I trust our coachmen.”
“Then what is the problem?”
“I don’t trust you.” He pushed away his plate and stood, summoning a footman. “I’m no longer hungry. Please clear my place.”
Ally’s skin tightened. How dare he? “You don’t even know me. How can you possibly say you don’t trust me?”
Evan closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them. “Forgive me. I misspoke. I have no reason not to trust you. However, you may not go to London unaccompanied.”
“Well, I’m going,” Ally said hotly. “And you have no right to stop me.”
“Very well.” Evan sat back down, a look of defeat on his chiseled features. “Then I have no choice but to go with you.”
Confessions of Lady Prudence
by Madame O
Christophe’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, Amelia! His fiery gaze well-nigh melted my garments right off my body.
“My lady…”
“If you could help me with my gown, sir,” I said, “I would be most appreciative.”
“I’m not sure this is proper…”
“Goodness, how can you paint me nude if I don’t disrobe?” I turned around. “Since there is no maid present, and I don’t intend to summon one, I need you to unfasten me and unlace my corset.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, my lady.”
When he had unbuttoned my dress, he slipped it over my shoulders and it fell to the floor. He unlaced my corset, and I gulped in a breath of precious air as he removed it. I stood before him in my chemise and drawers. I turned and let my chemise drop to the floor atop my dress and petticoats.
“My lady…”
I held out my already throbbing breasts. “What do you think, Monsieur Bertrand? Do you like my bubbies?”
His cheeks pinked. “Ah…they’re…lovely, my lady.”
“What color do you think will do my nipples justice? Rose? Light brown?”
He shook his head. “A brownish red, perhaps.”
I fingered my nipples slowly, and then pinched them both between my thumb and forefinger. Tingling sensations arrowed to my pussy. “Now what color, sir?”
“Brick red, my lady. Lord…”
“What is it?” I asked innocently.
“You. You’re so…”
I inched forward. “Would you like to pinch my nipples, Monsieur Bertrand? I’d like it if you would.”
I placed his hands on my breasts. He sucked in a sharp breath.
“Don’t be afraid, sir.”
“I’m not afraid, but this—”
I laid my finger over his soft pink lips. “We are alone. The door is locked. My auntie sleeps during the afternoon, and no servant will dare disturb us. Now pinch my nipples, sir.”
He squeezed them lightly, and oh, Amelia, my cunny throbbed! Remember how we used to pinch each other’s nipples and suck them? I do so love to have someone play with my diddeys.
“Harder,” I whispered. “Pinch them harder.”
He briefly tugged on them and then let them both go. I whimpered at the loss of his touch. How I wanted more!
“Would you like to suck my nipples, sir?” I entwined my fingers through his silky dark hair and pulled his head forward. “Please. Kiss them. Suck them.”
He let out a shaky breath and lowered his lips to one turgid bud. Oh, how I wanted to reach into my drawers and between my legs and rub my cunny! I was already wet with cream slickening my thighs.
He kissed my nipple lightly, and then more passionately, until he finally sucked it between his lips and tugged.
“Oh, sir! That feels wonderful.”
He continued sucking whilst he found my other nipple with his fingers and pinched it hard.
“Oh!” How I longed to touch my pussy and bring about the lovely climax you taught me, Amelia.
He swirled his tongue around my nipple, licked it, kissed it, sucked it, continuing to pinch and tug at the other one. The sweet smacking of his mouth echoed against my hot skin. When I could bear it no longer, I untied my drawers, let them fall to the ground, and touched my slick pussy lips. I steered clear of the magic button. I did not want to explode yet. But the warmth of my own cream against my fingers nearly drove me mad.
When I’d had all I could take, I threaded my fingers through his soft hair and pulled him toward me. His mouth crushed to mine and we kissed, our tongues twirling, swirling, dueling, until we were both nearly void of breath.
I gasped and broke away. “My cunt,” I said. “Please, sir. Lick my cunt.”
Chapter 2
Sitting across from Evan in a coach all day wasn’t the worst to ever befall Alexandra. Gazing at his handsome face and wonderful body was certainly no hardship. His grey traveling suit accentuated his thunderous broad shoulders to the point that Ally feared the seams might rip if he flexed those amazing muscles. He was a glorious sight.
But listening to him? That she could do without. He didn’t speak much, but when he did, she tuned him out—or tried to—by hiding behind a novel. They had hours to go, for Evan had decided to take the coach all the way to London rather than go by rail.
“It looks to storm,” he’d said, “and the rail won’t be safe.”
“For goodness’ sake,” Ally had replied, “I’ve traveled during many storms and had no problems at all.”
“Not by rail, you haven’t.”
True. She couldn’t argue. She’d rarely traveled by rail. Having grown up in near poverty, she wasn’t accustomed to such. In her mind, the rail would be safer, as they weren’t dependent on horses, who could spook at any time.
Evan had refuted that concern as well. “My team is well trained and will do fine. Besides, if the weather gets too unruly, we will simply stop for the night for lodging.”
Of course. Lodging. Something else she wasn’t used to. Lodging cost money, which she’d never had in abundance. Money matters seemed to be over now that her mother had married the earl, but Ally couldn’t be a burden forever. If her current plan worked out—and she had no doubt it would—money would no longer be a worry to her. With Mr. Landon’s millions at her disposal, she could take care of herself and Sophie both. Spinsterhood was probably in her sister’s future. Ally loved Sophie dearly, but given her timidity and adherence to convention, the poor dear was likely never to marry. Ally had every intention of taking care of her older sister and making a home for her. She could be a doting auntie—the picture suited Sophie well.
Ally looked up from her book at Evan’s handsome face. The rain was pelting the roof of the carriage now, but Evan didn’t seem concerned. Good. Neither would she be concerned then. The horses were doing fine, and the coachman hadn’t said two words since they left.
Evan. Ally smiled to herself. While the idea of spending time with him hardly enamored her, her scheme couldn’t have worked out better. Evan would be the perfect person to catch her and Mr. Landon in the act. His sense of honor would work in her favor. He’d demand that Mr. Landon do right by her. He might even call him out. Evan had a temper, though he kept it well disguised most of the time. He’d come close to calling out her cousin-in-law Cameron a month previously, when Rose had chosen him over Evan.
Yes, he might be insufferable, but the more she considered her circumstances, the more she was sure everything was progressing perfectly.
When a jolt of thunder crashed through the air, Ally jerked forward and nearly fell into Evan’s lap.
He took her arm and steadied her back into her seat. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Of course. But are you sure we should be continuing? This is a bad storm.”
“John will let us know if we should be concerned, Alexandra. Trust me, I’ve driven through far worse.”
/> Ally nodded and gulped down a swallow. “You may call me Ally. Everyone does.”
Evan nodded and turned back to the newspaper he was perusing.
Well, then. That was that. Ally returned to her novel and tried reading the page she’d been on for the last half hour. When she’d finally absorbed the words, she closed her eyes and tried to drown out the whomping of the rain on the carriage roof.
Her eyes shot open as she was catapulted into Evan’s lap.
“John, John!” Evan was yelling. “What’s going on?”
The carriage was bumping along the road—or not the road—and Ally’s heart thudded right along with it. Icy fear gripped her.
“What’s happening?” she yelled, trying to gather her wits. She’d been half-asleep and now… What was going on?
“I don’t know,” Evan said. “Calm down, Alexandra.” He held her tightly.
Still, she shivered.
“It’s Thor,” came the coachman’s voice. “I think lightning struck him. And Odin—”
Ally let out a blood-curdling scream as she was jammed against the side of the carriage, blacking out.
* * *
“Alexandra, Alexandra!” Evan shook the woman gently, and then not so gently, gripping her shoulders like a vise. “Wake up! Please!”
She’d been thrown against the side of the carriage when it toppled, but she was breathing, and he thanked God for that. Poor John had been thrown much farther outside and hadn’t fared as well. A good man, John, and he deserved better in life than to have it ended because a horse got struck by lightning. What were the chances? Thor was comatose. Poor beast. Evan’s heart broke for the horse, but he could do nothing. His first priority was Alexandra.
They’d driven off the road and into the countryside. John had clearly lost control of the horses. The road was no longer visible, no doubt only because of the rain and fog. At least Evan hoped that was the case.
No sooner had Evan unharnessed Odin than he galloped away, whinnying. The poor thing was petrified. Evan hoped the horse could find shelter when he calmed down.
Evan had laid Alexandra in the shelter of the toppled coach. His head hurt, and he felt a bit woozy, but all in all he was in decent shape. Alexandra didn’t appear to be hurt. Perhaps she just had the wind knocked out of her. His father would never forgive him if something happened to either of Iris’s girls.
At least she was somewhat protected from the pelting rain. He continued to try to rouse her while watching for anyone else to come down the road to help them. Minutes ticked by and no one came. Most had more sense than to come out in this mess.
The storm had come out of nowhere. What had started as the gentle pitter-patter of rain had turned violent in what seemed like no time at all.
“Alexandra, please wake up.” He shook her again.
Even with her hair and clothes in disarray and wet from the rain, the woman was a beautiful sight. Her chestnut hair, having come loose from its bun, fell in waves against her tan traveling clothes.
“Please,” he said again, his heart pounding. “You’ve got to be all right.”
Her ruby-red lips twitched.
“Alexandra? Can you hear me?”
Her eyes fluttered open. “Wha— What happened?”
“A carriage accident. Are you all right? Do you hurt?”
She gulped. “I… I believe I’m… I don’t know.”
Confusion. Well, of course, that was inevitable. “We need to find some shelter. Can you get up? Can you walk?” He stood to help her.
When she put his hand in hers, a tingle shot through him. Odd, and definitely no time for that now. He pulled her to her feet, and she fell against his soaked clothes.
“Who? What are we doing here?”
“It’s me, Evan, and we’ve had an accident. One of the horses was struck by lightning. Come now, we need to go. Can you walk?”
“Yes, Evan. I will try.”
Her strength humbled him. She was no pampered daughter of an aristocrat, even though she was indeed born the daughter of a Scottish earl. From the little he knew, her father had been abusive to her, her sister, and her mother for most of their lives and had left them in near poverty.
She sank against him as they walked toward the road, or at least his best guess as to which way the road was. The fog was thick as night, and the rain still pelted them like stinging needles. They weren’t too far out of Wiltshire yet. Surely they could find shelter somewhere.
Alexandra grew steadier, though she still gripped his arm as she rallied forward, never once complaining. Her will fascinated him. But then, she had grown up with a tyrant. No doubt her will had come in handy.
After what seemed like several hours, an image emerged in the distance. A shed, perhaps? Or a cabin? Evan wasn’t sure. The ground under his feet was soggy, and he didn’t know whether he’d ever found the road. They could be anywhere.
His heart thudded against his sternum. He had to find safety. Alexandra was his responsibility, and he would not let his father down. If only she hadn’t insisted on going to London. Why hadn’t he put his foot down? He could have dissuaded her. His brother was in London, and Evan had control of the estate while his father was gone. The servants answered to him and no other. This trip had not had to happen.
So why had he relented and said he’d go with her? He enjoyed London, yes, but no valid reason existed for him to be there other than to accompany her.
Had he wanted to accompany her?
She probably had plans to meet up with her paramour, Mr. Nathan Landon. Landon was a good bloke but a renowned skirt chaser, never serious as far as Evan could see. What Alexandra saw in him Evan didn’t know. Surely she wasn’t expecting a proposal of marriage. Why, Landon had a girl in every port.
A stab of jealousy hit Evan hard in the gut. She was his stepsister, for God’s sake, and a bloody pain in the arse, as well. Landon could damn well have her. Though she did deserve better…
“Alexandra,” he said, “there’s a building in the distance. Do you see it?”
“Looks like a cabin,” she said, “but right now anything is better than this. Do you suppose anyone is at home?”
Though the fog was thick, daylight was still upon them, so Evan couldn’t tell if a light was on in the small dwelling. They continued to trudge, Alexandra holding her own like a champion. He was proud of her.
When they finally reached the small building, Evan knocked on the door.
“For goodness’ sake, you’ll have to knock louder than that,” Alexandra said. “No one will hear you during this downpour.”
He nodded and pounded on the door. Nothing. Gaining hope, he turned the knob and the door opened. Thank God!
It was small, just one room, and clearly it had been vacant for quite some time. It was probably an old tenant or hired hand’s home on one of the neighboring estates. But the estates were vast. They could easily be isolated.
No time to worry about that at the moment. Once the storm passed, he would figure out where they were and walk to get help. For now, they could at least dry off and rest a bit.
They walked into the small dwelling. It was sparse, of course. A bed with a worn comforter sat in the far corner, and a small table and chairs, a bureau, and a slipper tub completed the picture. A few cupboards lined the walls. Certainly far from the elegance they were used to, but they would make do.
He helped Alexandra to one of the chairs. “How are you feeling? Do you hurt anywhere?”
“Kind of a dull ache all over,” she said, “but I think I’ll be fine. It’s not the worst I’ve been through.”
Evan’s heart lurched. What might she have meant by that?
“What happened to the coachman?” she continued. “And what of the horses?”
“Old John was thrown from the carriage. I couldn’t do anything for him.”
Alexandra’s eyes widened and her lips trembled. She clutched her hands together. “No! How horrible. We must have been extremely lucky then.�
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Evan nodded. “Being in the coach saved our lives. And it’s still a miracle neither of us was hurt more than we are. I’ve a few bruises that I can already feel, but I’m all right. I’m so glad you are all right as well.”
“Yes. And the horses?”
“Thor, who got struck, was near-dead. I cut Odin loose, and he went running off.”
“The poor dears.” She sighed. “I don’t suppose there are any spare garments here. We must get out of these wet clothes before we both catch our deaths.”
Evan looked around. She was right. He found only a few sets of bed linens folded inside one of the cupboards. “These will have to do.” He handed a set to her.
“Well, I guess we can be Greek today then.”
Evan furrowed his brow. “Greek?”
“We’ll wear togas, silly, like the Greeks.” She smiled wearily, her pretty face pale. She stood, gasping softly.
“What? Do you hurt?”
“Just a touch. I’m fine, really.” She lifted her lips in a saucy grin. “You’ll have to unfasten me.”
Confessions of Lady Prudence
by Madame O
Christophe widened his brown eyes. “Your cunt, my lady?”
I smiled the most wicked smile I could summon. “My cunt, sir. Surely you’ve heard the term?”
“But from a lady of the peerage…”
I pulled him toward the gold brocade settee, sat upon it, and spread my legs wide to his view.
“My sweet cunt, Monsieur Bertrand. It’s aching for your lips and tongue. Lick it, and I promise you will be handsomely rewarded.”
“To taste your sweet nectar is reward enough, my lady.” He bent to the task. “Ah, yes, let me see that lovely quim. So beautiful.”
Amelia, as he swiped his tongue across my pussy, I tingled all over. His lips were magical, tantalizing me to new heights in sensation. Soon his finger was inside me, stroking my wet channel, as he lapped at my tight bud. He sucked it, licked it, all the while sliding his tongue around my quim.
