Ah, yes. She’d forgotten about those. Madame had given her strict instruction—they were to be soft, tied with a tight loop at one end and a loop something very like a noose at the other, and made in two pairs. It was not made to slip around the neck, however, but over the hands and feet, one pair for each. Madame had been rather sketchy regarding the purpose of these articles, and Sophie did not ask.
“I have no idea what Madame intends for those,” she said.
Lindley seemed perplexed. “Hmm, yes…what would they be used for?”
“Well, she told me one pair should be made to slip around the wrists while the other is for the, er, ankles.”
He studied the cords as if trying to determine what possible use Madame might have had in mind. Odd, considering Sophie had rather expected Lindley to know much more about this sort of thing than she did. Well, perhaps it was a good sign that Madame still kept some secrets from him. Perhaps that meant he had not been so very involved with activities at the brothel.
“Let’s see,” he began, seating her on the bed and taking up her hands to try the noose ends of the smaller cords to see if they fit. “Sit here, my dear. Now, perhaps if we try this…”
Gently he tightened the soft cord around her wrists. Indeed, she rather enjoyed the feel of his skin against hers, but she could not imagine what this little length of cord could possibly do regarding pleasurable intimacies.
Before she could voice her confusion, though, Lindley swooped up one free end of the cord and looped it around one of the bedposts. She cried out, startled, but he quickly grabbed up the other, reached past her, and looped that one on the other bedpost. The surprise of it all knocked her over. Next thing she knew, she was lying on the bed, her arms spread wide and held in place by the cords. As she struggled the nooses tightened on her wrists. She felt helpless.
Lindley was smiling over her.
“The others for your ankles would be used the same way, my dear,” he said. “Then I would be free to do as I saw fit, and you could do little but lie here and enjoy.”
She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that.
“And what if I don’t enjoy, sir?”
“Then clearly I am doing it wrong.”
He leaned in at that point and kissed her neck, in the soft, vulnerable spot just where he would have found her pulse beating furiously. Ah, so he had lied to her. He did know what these cords were for. And yes, she likely would enjoy whatever he decided to do to her while she was helplessly bound this way.
She supposed she did not have to let him know she enjoyed it, though. Tricking her this way was not fair play. She would not let him know he had won so easily. Yes, she could certainly give him a bit of his own. Such a skill might come in handy in her future, as a matter of fact.
“So when, exactly, am I supposed to begin enjoying?” she asked.
The kisses stopped.
“I see you intend to be difficult,” he said, tugging off his cravat. “You know what we do with difficult children.”
“Children, sir? Surely you don’t do any of this with children!”
He sat back on his heels, kneeling beside her and frowning.
“Honestly, Sophie. You wanted to know what the cords were for, so I am showing you. Won’t you play along?”
“Tied up this way I hardly have anything to play with, my lord.”
Now he smiled again. “Ah, but I do, my dear. Yes, I most certainly do.”
At that he leaned over her again and played with the edge of her shift, pushing it down low over her bosom, teasing her with his touch. Repeatedly his fingers brushed her nipples, yet they never lingered. She squirmed. It would be difficult to pretend for very long that she did not enjoy this game.
She gave what she hoped sounded like a bored sigh. “Seems such a shame that all I can do is lie here and let you do all the work.”
He didn’t even pause a moment as his kisses and teasing continued. “Lucky for me this is work I enjoy.”
Indeed, she enjoyed it very much, too. A sigh escaped her that was anything but bored. Well, if he was content to keep her passive and still, she supposed she would not argue. Not yet, anyway.
His hands glided over her, traveling down to her thighs. She felt her shift sliding up as his fingertips tickled against the sensitive places inside her legs and up over her belly. He carefully avoided any areas that would send her over the edge into sheer delight, but he certainly brought her close. She struggled to be still, not to pull against the bindings.
“Will you be still, my dear, or must I bind your feet, as well?”
“No, I’ll be still. It’s just that when you touch me there…”
“Here?”
“Yes! Yes, that’s the spot. I’m afraid I rather lose control.”
“Good.”
Now he paused his caresses long enough to pull off his shirt. Once again the man’s solid, muscular body took her breath away. Oh, but she wished she could touch it, touch him, and feel the warmth and power beneath his skin. She writhed with agonized pleasure when his hands went back to stroking her thighs.
“You aren’t being very still.”
“You aren’t making it especially easy for me to keep still.”
“Then how about if I do this?”
His hands clamped over her legs, just below her knees. Before she could ask what he was about, he spread her legs apart and brought his face in close to kiss her—down there. She would have most certainly wiggled more than she did if he had not held her so tightly, keeping her from sliding away from him as the first wave of pleasure rocked her. He was lapping at her sensitive center and she was nearly undone immediately.
She thought she might have made some sound, some groan of bliss, but she could not be certain. All she knew was that in such a very short time he had reduced her to a nearly senseless mass of jelly, helpless in his control. And there was nothing she could do for him in return.
Unless, of course, she got out of these frustrating cords.
“Please…you have to stop!” she panted.
He did.
“Undo the cords, please. Quickly!”
He did that, too.
“What is it, Sophie?” he asked, sounding dreadfully concerned.
She started rubbing her wrists as if they hurt. Then she suddenly became aware of the state of her shift. Her bosoms were hanging out at the top and it was pulled up high on her belly to reveal her bottom portions. She quickly moved to cover herself.
“No! Don’t look at me like this!”
“What is it? What is wrong?” he asked.
“Turn around; don’t look at me, my lord.”
He did as she asked, clearly confused by her sudden change in attitude. She was rather proud of herself, actually. He may have had to tie her up to control her body, but she was learning just exactly how much control she could wield over him simply by speaking a word or two.
He had his back to her, still demanding to know if she was hurt or what he could do to help her. She smiled and pulled the cords off her wrists, widening the little nooses just a bit.
“Give me your hands,” she asked, keeping just a hint of desperation in her voice.
Again, he did exactly as she commanded and reached behind him, offering her his hands. In one quick move she slipped the cords over him, tightened them, and wrapped the remaining cords around his arms, successfully binding his hands together behind his back.
“There!” she said in triumph. “This should help enormously.”
She grabbed him by the broad shoulders and pulled until he toppled back onto the bed beside her. Without pause she swung her leg over to straddle him and keep him there, bound and pinned beneath her. It was his turn to become the victim in this little game he’d taught her.
“Now, my lord, how do you like being on the other side?”
He shifted just slightly to adjust his hands beneath him and gave her a wicked grin.
“I like it very much. Now that I’m your prisoner, what wil
l you do with me, Miss D’Archaud?”
She pondered that. “I think to begin with, I shall do this.”
She leaned in and nipped first his left nipple and then his right. He drew in a short breath for each one, and she knew she was becoming more and more adept at this sort of thing. My, but she did like it!
She moved so that now her legs were straddling his thighs. His trousers were pulled tight against him; she could see that their playtime had made him hard and ready for more. She wanted more, too. She unfastened his trousers and decided to help herself.
The man was magnificent. For a long moment she sat back on her heels and just stared. Then she slowly reached to touch him. He was soft as velvet and firm as granite. What a fascinating combination.
He moaned when she wrapped her hand around the heated flesh. It was an invigorating feeling, to be holding him in such an intimate way. To think that he trusted her so! Especially as he knew she had so little experience with this. She found herself somewhat flattered by it all, but the desire surging within her did not allow much time for contemplation.
She knew what she wanted—and she was going to take it. Cautiously, she bent to kiss him on the very tip of his manhood. He growled.
“By God, you’re going to kill me, my dear.”
“It’s more difficult than one might expect to be tied up and helpless against such torture, isn’t it, my lord?”
“You may torture me this way for eternity, Sophie.”
Tempting, but she knew in fact she could not. She needed him too badly to let this go on that long. Clearly he was willing. She would have him.
Wondering if she was at all doing this correctly, she slid her body close to his. Kneeling above him, she couldn’t help but glance into his face, hoping she would see encouragement there. She did.
“You really are a prodigy,” he said with a smile that gave all the encouragement she needed.
She lowered herself slowly, feeling the fiery hot sensation of his manhood pressing against her. It was what she needed, what her body cried out for. She reveled in the slightest touch, moving and brushing herself against him, until both of them were breathing in raspy gasps. She could take it no more.
Moaning right along with him, she pressed herself down onto him. His body slid into her, warming her and filling her like nothing ever had. With a shiver of desire, she dug her fingers into the solid muscle of his shoulders, riding him as if she’d done this a hundred times before. Her body was primed and ready this time. She felt every inch of him, every wave of passion, every breath of flaming need.
At some point his arms were free, reaching for her, touching her face, her neck, her breasts, her back. She lost track of the passage of time and simply gave in to the motion, the sensation. He thrust himself up into her, deeper than she could have imagined and more wonderful than she could have wished for.
She cried out his name when the ecstasy hit her, more powerful and breathtaking than before. He pulled her to him and held her against his chest as her body rocked and writhed with the passion. She struggled to breathe and didn’t care if she did.
Before she was completely back to earth, though, he shifted. Still holding her, he rolled onto his side and then laid her on her back. She blinked up at him.
“You got free, my lord.”
He smiled. “No, my dear. I’m far from free. You tie knots no man could possibly undo.”
And then he was moving inside her again. She would not have thought it possible, but desire raged to a wildfire in her and she was, once more, sinking into the heated oblivion of wave after wave of thrilling climax. She held him as if she might float away on it.
Finally he growled out her name. She was clinging to his back, choking out her own incoherent cries of passion. He dropped down onto her, then rolled to his side, keeping her caught against him with one powerful arm. She wriggled tight against him, filling her lungs and waiting for the room to stop spinning.
“Well. So that’s what those cords are for,” she said when she could finally speak.
“Yes,” he said, tucking her close and chuckling as he kissed her hair. “And I hope you learned your lesson about keeping people bound against their will.”
Oh, she’d learned a lesson well enough. One she would gladly study again and again with him, if only fate would grant her that chance.
IT WAS MORNING. THE BIRDS WERE SINGING OUTSIDE the window, and bright sunlight streamed through the gaps in the elaborate drapes. Dust motes glittered like minuscule gems. The air was fresh and pure.
And Lindley felt like hell.
He threw his legs over the side of the bed and just sat there. Sophie still slumbered behind him, as peaceful as a child and as beautiful as an angel. He hadn’t meant to still be here with her; he’d planned to steal back to his own bed long before daylight. Somehow, it simply had not happened. He’d stayed. Surely the servants would have noticed by now.
Why? He’d left many women after nights of passion; why had he not left Sophie? Because he’d felt as if leaving her would tear out his soul, that was why. What in God’s name was wrong with him?
He wanted her. He wanted to stay with her, to make love until reality disappeared and there was nothing more to do but be happy. It was foolishness, of course. Happiness had no place between them. He knew that. He had his duty, and she had hers. His was to resume his hunt for her father; hers was to protect and defend the man.
It was a bloody shame, but this was just the way things were. It would be pointless to prolong the inevitable. He needed to leave. When she woke he would be gone and they would be enemies again.
Damn, but perhaps this truly would leave him a man with no soul. He felt hollow and cold already.
He padded softly around the room, gathering his clothing and cursing at their rumpled state. Really, he was cursing his own weakness. He should have never given in to temptation last night. He would be tired all day from the sleep he’d lost.
As if sleep was all he’d lost. The emptiness inside assured him that Sophie was not entirely alone there in that bed. A part of him remained with her. It would always remain with her. And she would never know it.
That was a blessing, he supposed. She would never know how leaving her this morning destroyed him. He could at least hold on to that little measure of pride.
He looked atrocious: his clothes were just thrown on and he hardly cared. He would find time to right himself later. For now, he needed to get away from her before she woke. Before he lost his nerve and begged her to let him stay.
For one insane moment he thought about leaving the locket for her, but force of will won out and he took it with him. Now he’d become a thief. Well, perhaps a handful of coins would ease his conscience. He took out his purse and dropped it onto her pack. He may have used her like a whore, but at least he’d paid her well. She could hate him more for it if she liked, but she’d earned that wage and should have it.
Grabbing his boots, he silently let himself out. The door squeaked on its hinges, but Sophie did not stir. He left her behind and pulled the door to behind him. It clicked shut, slicing whatever ties he’d still had to his decency. She would never know what it cost him to leave her today.
Making his way downstairs—which took him through the gauntlet of disapproving family members gazing with reproach from their portraits—Lindley found a bench and began working at his boots. He’d carried them rather than make a sound and wake Sophie. Yes, he was that much the coward.
“Will you be wanting breakfast, milord?” Wimpole asked, appearing from somewhere.
Lindley grimaced. The thought of treating himself to food only served to turn his stomach. He did not deserve the luxury of food.
“No,” he replied. “I’ll be wanting my carriage. I have business to attend this morning, Wimpole. It cannot wait.”
“You’ll be paying a call on Lord Dashford, I presume,” Wimpole said with an all-too-easily-understood grin. “I rather hoped that’s the way it was for you and the you
ng miss, milord.”
So the man had him rushing to offer for Sophie now, did he? Damn it. Of course that’s what would be expected. He’d introduced Sophie as a proper lady. The household staff was bound to know he had not treated her like one last night. Naturally they would expect him to do the right thing.
Well, he would not correct Wimpole’s assumption. Sophie deserved to be treated well during her stay here, and leaving the servants to believe she would soon be their mistress would ensure that. Lindley owed her that much, at least. He would shelter and protect her as long as he could. Haven Abbey would do until he could make further arrangements for her.
“See that Miss D’Archaud has everything she needs, Wimpole,” Lindley directed, dodging the man’s obvious but unexpressed questions. “And since we are not certain what danger still exists for her, I’d like it if you and the staff could keep her indoors. Safe. No matter what.”
He hoped that might serve to deter Sophie from running away anytime soon. He had no doubt that would be her first objective, but he could trust Wimpole to see that she was retained here. For added measure, he’d get word to Feasel that the girl was to be monitored at all times. From a distance, of course.
Wimpole was all too eager to promise they’d take good care of the girl, and before Lindley could rethink his plans he left. He spared one glance over his shoulder as he drove away. Haven Abbey was bright and beautiful on this morning. How could the place appear so peaceful when everything about it caused such chaos inside him?
He guided the carriage out onto the main road. A rustle in the brush off to the side caught his attention, and before he could even react he heard his name called out. He let out a frustrated sigh.
“Damn it, Feasel, must you always be jumping out at me like this?”
“Didn’t get enough sleep, milord?” his man replied with a smirk, jogging up to the carriage.
Lindley reined in his horses and frowned. “My sleep habits are hardly your concern.”
Feasel laughed. “I take that back, milord. Sounds more like you got a little too much sleep, if you know what I mean.”
Temptress in Training Page 27
