by Blake,Zoe
“So you are a photographer?” she asked. Her voicing sounding hollow and thin to her ears.
“Are you disappointed?” He asked the question casually as he polished a camera lens but his eyes were fixed and intent on her face.
“Quite the opposite, in fact,” Sarah responded cheerily. Turning away to caress the petals of a larkspur.
“Why is that?”
“The painters can be so tedious expecting you to hold the same pose for hours and hours. Some let you talk but others expect you to stay silent. The illustrators are better. They usually work much faster with pencil. I like the photographic cameras best. Even with the daguerreotype you only have to sit still for fifteen minutes or so.”
She was rambling. It was hard not to be nervous. It wasn’t that he was a lord. The photographic camera was a new toy for the wealthy. It was common for the girls to be sent on appointments to various nice homes around the city. It wasn’t even that he was handsome. Sarah was a pretty girl and pretty girls attracted the attention of handsome boys all time. Perhaps that was it. She was used to the attentions of handsome, devil-may-care boys. Lord Warrington was not a boy. He was a man. A handsome man with ice blue eyes. Eyes that seemed to assess and examine. As if he were looking at you with one of those lenses on the table. But the lens saw far more than the color of your eyes or the swirl of a lock of hair.
“Shall we get started?”
“How do you want me?”
Pierce raised an eyebrow and gave Sarah a long penetrating look.
The moment the words came out of her mouth, Sarah wished the earth would open and swallow her whole right to the center like in that book by Jules Verne.
“Ah…I mean…I mean…where do you want me?”
Those beautiful sardonic lips of his she first noticed during their chance encounter on the streets of London only twisted further. Dang it, she was making it worse!
Pierce watched her cheeks blush a deep dark pink to match her lips. Next to her golden skin and black hair, the effect was startling.
“There is a padded ottoman in front of the orange trees, please sit there.”
Sarah rushed to do his bidding. Grateful to move on from the awkward moment. Sitting primly on the small upholstered bench, she waited quietly while he positioned his camera and arranged the plates.
Seeking a return to a more mundane topic. She thought inquiring about his photographic equipment should be safe. “Do you prefer dry or wet plates?”
Again, Pierce turned those ice blue eyes on her, reading more in to her question than she intended. Sarah bit her lip in frustration. Pierce’s gaze moved from her eyes to her lips before answering. “I work with them all. I like the variety.”
He was baiting her. Despite considering herself a rather forward independent woman of the practically 20th century, Sarah felt out of her depth. She was still a little too innocent to play this game.
After setting the large wood framed camera with its round lens on a tripod several feet away, Pierce then focused his attention on her.
Sarah was mesmerized as he paused to simply stare at her…only there was nothing simple about it. His azure blue eyes were as deep and unfathomable as the ocean she once compared them to. They stared into her. They stared through her. He began to edge closer…slowly…deliberately without breaking the intensity of his regard.
Trapped in his gaze, Sarah was afraid to move. He prowled closer still.
The smell of his cologne drifted towards her on a balmy current of air. Bay rum. The earthy masculine scent dominated over the delicate floral fragrance of the conservatory. He had removed his frock coat, dressed only in shirtsleeves and a waistcoat. The silk waistcoat with a bold dark green striped pattern was tight-fitting emphasizing his trim waist and flat stomach. He wore it over a pair of buff trousers.
What Sarah noticed most was the soft linen of the shirt. The moisture in the conservatory air had made it almost transparent in some places. It slightly clung to his right upper arm showing a hint of well-toned muscle and possibly a tattoo. She only knew of such things after seeing the sailors on the ship during her crossing. The idea a wealthy and respected lord of the realm might have a low-man’s art form on his body deeply intrigued her.
Pierce now stood directly in front her. Sarah had to tilt her head back to see his face. Like before, the impact of having him towering over her was powerful. She felt small and vulnerable. A gentleman would have seated himself so the woman wouldn’t have to strain her neck.
Pierce remained standing.
He reached out to cup her chin, tilting her head back even farther. Sarah felt off-balance both in mind and body. Finally he spoke.
“I am fascinated by contrasts…transitions. Light to shadow. Soft to rough. Saint to sinner. Pain to pleasure. I want to capture these contrasts. Capture moments. Emotion,” his deep voice intoned. Sarah listened, enthralled…and honestly a little frightened. Pain to pleasure?
Pierce gently ran the tip of his thumb over her plump lower lip. “For today I just want to photograph these beautiful soft round lips.” He pushed down on her lip till her mouth opened. Watching her face closely for a reaction, he slowly pushed his thumb into the warm, wet opening.
Her eyes widened in alarm as she instinctively bit down.
The scrape of her teeth against the underside of this thumb combined with the hurried push of her tongue sent the blood pulsing straight to his cock. Patience, he silently warned himself. Ignoring her mewing sounds of complaint, he pushed his thumb in deeper, watching as her bright viridian eyes turned a dark green gold with her burgeoning desire.
“Swirl your tongue around the tip,” he commanded. His voice hoarse with barely suppressed lust.
Sarah was unnerved. The overt, intimate act far surpassing his earlier transgressions. She could see a thick ridge swell against the tight fabric of his buff trousers. She had been to the museum and seen the notorious Elgin marbles. She knew it was his…his…member. She raised large, tormented eyes to him. Seeing his clenched jaw and slightly narrowed eyes focused entirely on her mouth, she knew he would not relent until she obeyed. Hesitantly placing the side of her tongue along his thumb, she dutifully swished it along the rough pad of his finger. Tasting his skin.
“Good girl. Now hold it still,” he ordered. Sarah submitted.
Pierce pulled his thumb back before forcing past her lips again. Glorying in the silky feel of her tongue. Imagining it swirling around his cock as he pushed it deep into her throat.
Sarah closed her eyes. Confused by the fluttering in her stomach his harsh commands caused. The growing warmth flowing through her middle each time he pushed his thumb deeper into her mouth.
Knowing it was a matter of mere seconds before his control snapped. Pierce took an abrupt step back. Releasing her mouth. After a few calming breaths, he changed tactic.
Almost absently, he rubbed the back of his fingers along her cheek. Sarah could feel the cold metal of his signet ring against her warm skin. When he spoke again, it was a low husky murmur. “I will contrast them to these sharp, high cheek bones of yours.”
His returning to the photographic session at hand, confused Sarah even more. She felt on edge. Unsteady.
Pierce took a step away to once more stare at her in that dark enigmatic way. With the lush green setting, it made her feel like Eve and the Devil in the Garden of Eden. Would she be tempted to fall, too?
After looking through the lens of his camera, Pierce returned to Sarah, going down on his haunches. She was wrong. This was much worse. Having his face close to hers, feeling his breath against her cheek, getting a tiny intimate peek of a few dark chest hairs in the opening of his shirt. Oh my!
“Now, Sophronia or Sarah…what the devil is your actual name? I couldn’t get a straight answer when you were heeding god’s call to heaven the other day.”
“Soph…” Her voice cracked. Gently clearing it she shyly said, “Sarah, my lord, Sarah Grey.”
“Very well, Sarah.” He nodded his head in approv
al.
While disliking Sophronia, Sarah had never truly liked her own name. It always sounded a bit immature and high-pitched to her ears. She very much so liked the way he said it. Instead of emphasizing the end like everyone else, he deepened the middle. She thought to tell him so but was afraid he would once again misinterpret her words.
“Sit straight. Turn your head and stare right into the camera.” Grabbing her jaw, he tilted her head slightly. “I want to capture the slight hollow of your cheek to emphasize your cheekbone. Keep your head at that angle.”
Pierce returned to his camera. “No, love, don’t lower your eyes. I want them looking straight up. They are so sharp and defined. They add to the contrast.”
Sarah’s eye’s widened the moment she heard the endearment. She was not silly enough to think he meant it but it still made her heart flutter to hear it.
“Hold nice and still for me.”
Sarah held her pose. Training her eyes just above his head at a large blossom, trying to think of its name. Focusing on the training she learned from Mrs. Needham and not on the fascinating man who may or may not have a tattoo who was standing before her.
Several still moments went by. Then there was a crash as a gelatin dry plate crashed to the tiled floor. Sarah jumped in response.
“This isn’t working.” Pierce ran is hand through his dark brown unruly hair in frustration. Pacing away in silence. He wanted to capture the woman he saw running in the West End. Her intoxicating energy and movement. Not this buttoned up, proper miss.
Sarah was devastated. He was going to let her go. She told herself she was upset because of the pretty amount of coin she would miss out on but that wasn’t the whole truth.
Abruptly, he returned.
Circling behind Sarah, she felt his rough hands in her thick curls.
“My lord!” Sarah raised her hands to stop him as she tried to twist around to face him.
Painfully gripping both her wrists, he barked, “Put your arms down this instant.”
Sarah meekly complied. Confused as to what was happening.
Mrs. Needham had styled her hair in a loose chignon on top of her head with artfully arranged large ringlets cascading over her shoulders. They always dressed simply for sittings not wanting their ensemble to betray the artistic vision of the client. Sarah had on a Prussian blue skirt, cream lace embroidered blouse and a wide black velvet fabric belt tied in a neat bow at her back with black lace boots. She was proud of her appearance. She thought she looked proper and elegant. She wanted to show him she had grace and composure compared to the wanton, harridan vision he received of her earlier. Now he was ruining it!
Pierce grasped her hair, taking a moment to appreciate the rich silky texture before securing it with one hand behind her ears. With his free hand, he undid the black choker ribbon around her neck.
“Oh, please, my lord!” complained Sarah.
“Hush!”
Using the ribbon, he tied the thick mass of curls back off her face and neck. Swinging around to check his handiwork, he crouched on his haunches before her. “Not quite there.”
Pierce reached for the buttons of her blouse. Sarah jerked back. Her bright jade eyes wide with alarm. His eyes narrowed in an unspoken warning. Sarah closed her right hand over the base of her throat. Her heart beating fast. She barely shook her head no. A tiny mouse standing up to a lion.
A tightening across his shoulders was the only indication of his rising irritation. Leaning in closer, his left hand caressed her exposed right forearm. Allowing her to feel the roughness of his hand compared to the milky smoothness of her skin. Allowing her to feel the slight pressure, he applied, subtly showing his superior strength. Allowing her to perceive his point without him having to say the words.
He would have his way.
Sarah lowered her eyes and relented. Her free hand nervously twisted into the folds of her skirt. She couldn’t believe she was allowing him to take such liberties. It was foolish since he had already seen her in a shocking state of undress but still.
When Pierce’s long fingers enclosed her wrist, she let him guide it away from her throat without any resistance. Easily undoing the top five little pearl buttons, her skin was exposed to the collarbone. Pierce could see just the barest sheen of perspiration from the heat of the conservatory. This close to her skin. He could smell the verbena soap she used to bathe. Resisting the urge to caress the spot where he could see her trembling heartbeat he stood up.
“Sarah, look at me,” he commanded.
She raised large, uncertain eyes to him.
“Good girl.”
He placed a hand on either side of her hips, closing her in. Of their own volition, Sarah’s eyes dropped to his mouth. She had never really looked at a man’s mouth before. I mean really looked. It was so very…very…
“Sarah…”
Pierce interrupted her wandering thoughts.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he gently ordered. “I want you to lick your lips.”
Pierce watched as the small tip of her tongue peeked out to sweep over her top lip. Tamping down the primal surge that came from a beautiful woman obeying your command, Pierce went further. “Now the bottom lip.”
Without taking her eyes of his, Sarah complied. Her cherry pink lips were bright and glistening.
Pierce leaned in close. Placing his hand along her jaw, he whispered against her lips.
“Now open your mouth…just slightly…as if you’re about to be kissed by a lover.”
Sarah leaned in…lips parted…eyes closed. Waiting for his kiss.
Then…nothing.
Then…the unmistakable sound of a mechanical shutter releasing.
Opening shocked eyes, Sarah saw Pierce standing several feet away behind his photographic camera.
“Perfect! Hold that expression of shocked loss! Oh! Sarah my love! You are wonderful! You have such a talent for this.”
Pierce quickly replaced the gelatin dry plate and captured the image. Captured the moment. The emotion.
Quickly recovering, Sarah raised trembling hands to button her blouse. How humiliating! Here she was fawning over him like a schoolgirl, mistakenly assuming he was taken by her charms when all he really wanted was a photograph!
Standing abruptly, she avoided making eye contact by making quite a show of smoothing out her skirts. “Well, Lord Warrington, I believe your session is over for this afternoon.” She hoped he didn’t notice the slight tremor to her voice.
“No. Certainly not. I’ll send a messenger to Mrs. Needham saying I require you for longer.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” she retorted. Walking with stiff dignity she headed for the entrance to the conservatory.
She never even heard him move. Strong fingers wrapped around her upper arm. The heat of his skin branded her through the soft linen of her blouse. Pulling her close to his side. If she were less distracted by the appearance of the other woman, she would have recognized the feel of his hard shaft pressing against her hip and know he was far from unaffected by her presence.
Pierce growled into her ear, “I decide when you leave, Sarah, not you.”
She hazard a glance at him through the corner of her eye. His glacial blue eyes shone with anger. The mouth she so admired a moment a go was tight with displeasure. She could almost flatter herself, the great lord was angry at the thought of her leaving his presence. After the humiliation of the almost kiss, she knew that was not true. He was just angry he lost his model for the day.
“Am I interrupting?”
Both turned to see a garishly attired woman standing in the doorway. If the scandalously low-cut vivid orange dress did not brand her as a fallen woman, the French chalk and face paint on her eye and lip certainly would have.
“I told Parker not to bother announcing me. It’s not like I don’t know the way by now, right dearie.” The woman gave Lord Warrington a suggestive wink.
Parker was obviously the butler, not that he had bothered to int
roduce himself to Sarah. Apparently this woman was privy to his name and was familiar enough to be permitted to wander about the house unescorted. The fact that it was Sarah’s first time at Lord Warrington’s home and she couldn’t possibly be expected to know her way about was lost on her at the present moment.
It was obvious to her now why she had no appeal. Sarah could never compete with the overt charms of such a woman.
“I was just leaving,” announced Sarah thrusting her chin in the air as she tried to pull her arm out of Pierce’s firm grasp.
“Shame. You’re a pretty little prim one ain’t ya. We could have some, you and me.”
“That will be enough from you, Fannie,” quipped Pierce. “Go inside and get ready. I will be with you momentarily.”
With another suggestive look between the two of them and a swivel of her generous hips, Fannie sauntered into the room.
Once again, Sarah tried to pull her arm free. Taking a deep breath, she said calmly, “I can assure you, I am perfectly capable of finding my way out. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your guest.”
“She’ll wait.”
Without releasing her arm, Pierce pulled Sarah behind him as they exited the conservatory. After several turns and more than one long hallway, Sarah finally asked, “Where are you taking me?”
“To find one of those dark corners I mentioned,” ground out Pierce.
Chapter Five
“Lord Warrington, no…I…”
Pierce swung Sarah around till her back connected with the wall, cushioned only slightly by a thick tapestry. She had only a moment to glance around before his broad frame blocked her sight. They were in the library. The dark, unoccupied library.
Running his hand down her arm, Pierce closed his hand around Sarah’s delicate wrist, lifting it high over her head. Pinning it against the wall. Feeling the power of his height and strength, she was trapped. Sensing the danger she was in, Sarah watched the muscular swells of his chest beneath his thin linen shirt expand with each labored breath as he fought for control.
“Look at me,” he demanded soft and low.
