by Blake,Zoe
Chapter Twelve
“This is highly irregular,” complained the befuddled magistrate as he stood in his study clad only in a nightshirt and slippers. “There are rules and regulations to follow. Procedures! This is not according to procedure!”
Pierce grabbed the man by the loose fabric at his neck, “I want you to take a good strong look at me. Do I look like a man who gives one good god damn about your fucking procedures!”
Thankfully, Parker intervened, hastily pulling his lordship off the hapless magistrate.
Clearing his throat, Parker hoped to calm the situation. “Sir, as I have told you, you are addressing Lord Warrington. A member of the House of Lords and a close family friend of the Right Honorable Lord Kidgerbury, Vice-Chancellor to Her Majesty’s High Court. Your superior I believe.”
The magistrate reluctantly nodded.
Parker continued, “It is the express wish of Lord Kidgerbury that you honor Lord Warrington’s request to move up the charge of Miss Sarah Grey to this evening rather than waiting over the week’s end till Monday.”
“If she spends so much as another moment in the gaol, I swear your heirs will feel my wrath for generations,” warned Pierce with an even more ominous glare in the magistrate’s direction.
The study door opened and Sarah was ushered in.
Pierce advanced on her, effortlessly shrugging off the two constables who tried to block his path. She looked so very small and frightened. Her wrinkled dress was filthy. There was a dark smudge of dirt on her tear-stained cheek. Her beautiful hair was a dull, limp tangle down her back.
Grabbing her by the upper arms, he asked, “Have you been hurt?”
Sarah shook her head, unable to speak.
“My love, I want the truth. Has anyone laid a hand on you?” he insisted.
“No,” she managed to croak out. “Considering the circumstances, they have been courteous but oh…oh…I swear I didn’t kill Florence,” she cried as her knees buckled. Supported by his strong embrace, Sarah felt him stroke her hair and murmur assurances into her ear.
“Proceed with your procedure,” scoffed Pierce to the magistrate.
The whole terrible event was a blur to Sarah. Detective Constable Chuzzlewit read out his statement into the record. Remarking on the appearance of Florence’s contorted body. Her remarks of having a sore throat and burning stomach. All consistent with acute arsenic poisoning. The medical men were conducting both a Marsh and a Reinsch test on the decease’s stomach contents to confirm the suspicion of arsenic. He then related Victoria’s statement regarding Sarah’s supposed threat to Florence. She felt his arms tighten across her shoulder blades when the detective mentioned her flimsy alibi of walking in the park all afternoon.
Pierce swallowed another curse. If the silly minx had simply mentioned she had been with him all afternoon they might never have arrested her for fear of angering him and his powerful connections. She must have thought she was protecting him. The selfless act in the face of such adversity deeply affected him. Unfortunately, she had been arrested and he was limited on what he could do in the moment, but he knew with every fiber of his being she would not spend one night in a fetid prison if he had to spirit her away to safety himself.
Casting a nervous glance in Lord Warrington’s direction, the magistrate boldly declared, “It is the opinion of this magistrate there is sufficient cause for an indictment of murder. The accused will be committed to the gaol…”
Parker cleared his throat. Slowly shaking his head to the magistrate.
“Ah…that is…the accused is to be bound over…” corrected the magistrate who appeared to relax at Parker’s affirmative nod. “Yes…the accused will be bound over into the custody of Lord Warrington until the assizes in a fortnight. We are finished!”
Pierce swept Sarah into his arms and stormed out of the magistrate’s home. Carrying her to the carriage, he refused to release her.
“This isn’t proper,” whispered Sarah with an anxious glance in Mrs. Needham’s direction.
Pierce’s only response was an intense look as if he was still not convinced she was unharmed and a tightening of his grip.
From her perch on Pierce’s lap, Sarah tried to placate Mrs. Needham. “Please Mrs. Needham. Please say you believe me when I say I didn’t murder Florence!”
“Oh dear child! Of course I do! If you were going to murder Florence, you would have done so long ago!”
Sarah scrunched her nose. It was not exactly a ringing endorsement but at least her employer did not think she was a cold-blooded killer.
The carriage pulled up in front of his York Terrace home. After Pierce alighted with Sarah, Parker stuck his head out. “If I may, my lord, I will escort Mrs. Needham home.”
“Of course. My thanks, Mrs. Needham. You did the correct thing by informing me.”
Mrs. Needham seemed to exchange a knowing look with Pierce. “I certainly hope so, my lord. Please take care of our girl.”
“I intend to,” he responded roughly. His emotion over the peril Sarah was in evident.
~*~
Pierce was greeted by a footman who immediately opened the door at their approach.
“My lord, Mr. Parker ordered the fires lit and a bath and tray of food be sent to your rooms.”
“Thank you, John,” responded Pierce as he carried his precious handful up the main stairway, giving silent thanks to Parker’s forethought.
Closing the door with his heel, Pierce enclosed them in the somber quiet of his rooms. Looking down, he realized Sarah had fallen asleep in his arms. From their lovemaking to the trauma of being taken away by the constables, it had been an eventful and trying day. Gingerly placing her in a plush chair by the fire, Pierce lifted one slender calf, unlacing her boots.
Sarah awoke to the warmth and security of Pierce’s private rooms. Seeing him on his knees before her, she tried to sit up while pulling her leg back. Pierce’s strong grip did not relent.
“Lay back. I need to get you out of these clothes.” And burn them he silently added.
“I can do it, sir…er…my lord…ah Lord Warrington,” she fumbled.
Pierce smiled warmly at her. “Do you not think it is time you called me by my Christian name?”
Sarah blushed and could only nod.
“Good girl. Besides, I only want to hear my lord on your lips when I am punishing that pert little bottom of yours,” he added seductively.
If possible, Sarah blushed deeper.
Pierce removed her shoes and stockings. Placing a hand under her arms, he carefully lifted her up.
“I assure you I am fine. I can finish undressing myself,” she offered.
“Shhh. Don’t ruin my fun,” he said with a smirk. Reaching around her tiny waist, brushing his broad chest against her own, Pierce untied her velvet belt. He then made short work of the small pearl buttons holding the dress in place. It slipped to the floor. Placing his warm fingers inside the lace edge of her corset, Pierce slowly unhooked the metal eyelets down the front. Sarah’s breath hitched as his knuckles brushed the inside curve of her right breast. Letting the corset drop to the floor, Pierce fell to his knees. Placing soft kisses on her abdomen, he lightly traced the red marks from her corset with his tongue.
“No more corsets for you, little one,” he hummed. “It is a sin to mark such beautifully flawless skin.”
Sarah ran her fingers into his thick, wavy hair, holding him close. “Does that mean no more spankings?” she cheekily asked.
Pierce gave her bottom a quick pinch through her bloomers, thrilled to see her spirit returning. Her time in the gaol was short but from what he heard, the experience was dreadful enough to traumatize even a hardened criminal after a mere quarter hour. “Absolutely not,” he teased. “The right to punish this delectable body is one of the great pleasures of my life.”
Sarah was taken aback at the intensity of his words.
Pierce stripped away her bloomers and rose to lift her into his arms. Carrying her closer
to the fire, he slowly lowered Sarah into the large copper tub filled to the brim with steaming lavender scented water.
Suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed, Sarah picked up the bathing linen and soap. “I am fine, my…Pierce. I am sure there are more important matters for you to attend to than my bath.”
Taking the linen from her fingers, he avowed, “Her Majesty could walk through that door and I would tell her I was occupied.”
Sarah laughed, “You know that has less of an effect on an American?”
Dipping the linen between her legs, Pierce pressed his two middle fingers to her heat. “What would have an effect on my little American beauty?”
Sarah’s eyes turned a deep emerald as she squeezed her thighs together, capturing his hand.
After taunting her with a few circular rubs over her sensitive button, Pierce ran the bathing linen over her belly and breasts. Moving the soapy linen in soft wide circles over her entire body. The soothing heat of the water and the searing heat of his caress banishing all thoughts of the gaol and the charges against her.
Pierce picked up the small pitcher on the table by the tub. Scooping up some water, he carefully poured it over her tilted back head. Soaking her long, raven’s wing tresses. Uncorking the small jug, he poured the fragrant substance into his hand. Rum, honey, black tea and rosemary water. Taking up fists of her heavy tresses, he worked the fragrant elixir into her hair, washing it.
“Tilt your head back,” he ordered in a soft, soothing voice.
Sarah obeyed. Moaning as the warm water coursed through her hair and down her back. It was lovely beyond express to feel clean again. She had been kept in a holding cell for several hours away from the rest of the prison, but the stench and the filth were enough to make Sarah want to soak in a bath for days on end.
Pierce did not miss a nuance. From the glistening of her pale skin, to how the firelight brought out the gold in her bright green eyes, to her plump lips falling open on a sigh as he rinsed her hair. Fetching a heated linen from the grate by the fire, Pierce coaxed her to stand. Enveloping her in the warm linen, he gently rubbed her limbs dry. Sweeping his arm beneath her knees, Pierce lifted her into his arms. Placing her in the middle of his bed, she sunk into the downy softness.
Unbuttoning his now wet shirt, Pierce stared down at her prone form. Her skin had the most luscious tint of pink, warmed from her bath. Slipping out of the rest of his clothes, watching her watching him.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. His voice a low, husky murmur.
“No.”
Giving her a wolfish grin, he said, “Good, because I am.”
Placing his large hands on either raised knee, he slowly forced her legs open. Wedging his broad shoulders between her soft thighs, Pierce inhaled the balmy lavender scent of her skin. He stroked her soft curls with the back of his finger. Relishing in the sight of her sweet dew. Proof of her arousal.
Using his thumbs, he gently opened her nether lips, exposing the soft, sensitive bud. Keeping her eyes captured with the seductive power of his gaze, he lowered his head. Pulling her bud between his lips, he used the tip of his tongue to circle…around…and…around. Sarah’s hips rose off the bed. He placed one restraining hand on her lower belly, forcing her back down to the bed linens. And still his tongue twirled and flicked. Sarah tossed her head from side to side. It was wicked. It was wonderful. It was too much.
Pierce pushed his thumb into her tight passage. Feeling her clench and tremble. He swirled his thumb, teasing the delicate flesh right at her entrance. Sarah grabbed fistfuls of bed linen as she tried in vain to keep her hips down. Her whole body needed to move, to wriggle, to shift, to twist. It was like her whole body hummed and thrummed with energy.
Pierce pulled his thumb free. It glimmered with her dew. Moving slightly downward, he pressed the tip against her forbidden entrance. Sarah squirmed and tried to clench her bottom cheeks closed.
“No, please. Not there,” she whimpered.
“You’re not permitted to tell me no, little one. Now ask me to play with your naughty bottom hole.”
Sarah couldn’t do it.
Pierce covered the sharp edge of his teeth with his lips and tightened down on her clit. The sharp bite of pain through the haze of pleasure made Sarah cry out.
“Ask me,” he commanded. The vibrations of his dark voice sending titillating waves up the back of her thighs and middle.
“Please…please play with my…my bottom hole.”
Pierce made a low rumbling growl of displeasure deep in his throat.
“My lord! Please, my lord!” she called out.
Pierce pressed the rouged entrance to her back passage. Feeling her muscles tense, then weaken, with his relentless push. Thrusting through, her body swallowed his thumb to the first knuckle. He pushed to the hilt.
Sarah groaned. It felt strange and yet stimulating to have him force his way into such a forbidden place. Her hips shifted from side to side as he slowly thrust his thumb in and out of her dark passage.
Pierce leaned back as he pulled his thumb free. Watching as her bottom hole slightly gaped and then slowly pressed closed. Placing his index and middle finger in his mouth, he slicked them wet. Putting his free hand on her flat stomach to keep her restrained, he positioned his two fingers at her bottom entrance. Applying slow and steady pressure, her body was forced to open.
“Ow! Ow!” complained Sarah as she tried to raise her hips to move away from the pain.
“Be still.”
Pierce thrust his fingers into her unwilling backside. Opening her. Preparing her.
“I can’t it hurts! It’s not right!” she moaned. Her stomach cramped with tension. Still he thrust.
Returning to her clit, he swirled his tongue around the small bud as he vigorously worked his fingers back and forth in her bottom. The mixture of pleasure and pain, bliss and discomfort was terrible and superb all at once. Sarah could not take it. Calling out his name, she broke free of his restraining hand. Her hips rose. Her breath hitched. Her thighs clenched against his shoulders. Her bottom clutched at his intrusive fingers. Her mind went blank to all but the blissful sweet kiss of sensual agony.
Rising on his knees, Pierce placed the head of his cock at the slick entrance of her cunny. He could feel every tremor of her release along his shaft as it pushed and forced its way inside her tight passage. Pierce clenched his jaw and prayed for restraint as her wet heat closed around him. It was all he could do not to relentlessly thrust into her soft, willing flesh.
Curling the tips of his fingers buried deep inside her bottom passage, he could feel the slide of his cock as it entered and retreated from her body.
Sarah was lost. She felt the fullness of him pushing into her body. His fingers in her naughty hole adding to the increasing pressure. Her body stretched and opened as it labored to accept his.
Pulling his fingers free, Pierce gripped her hips. Ice blue eyes bored down on her. “Look at me.”
With difficulty, Sarah met his fierce gaze.
“Say it,” he ordered brusquely.
Taking in his broad, impressive chest. The sculpted arms holding her tightly. The need burning in his eyes. She breathed, “My lord.”
Pierce thrust deep, unable to stop. His hips pounded into her. Ruthlessly taking her as his own. Making her his own.
Her delicate skin burned from the friction. Her inner thighs sore from being forced wide. Her cunny stretched and bruised. Still he thrust deep. Giving her no quarter.
One final thrust. One last brush of his bollocks along the soft under curve of her round bottom. One crowning twist of his hips.
Pierce threw his head back and came with a feral howl. Pouring his seed deep in her body. Claiming her and he would be damned if he let any man, no matter their authority, take her from him.
Chapter Thirteen
“So I see you received the clothes we sent over,” said Victoria
“Yes, it was so kind of you to pack some of my things for me,” responded S
arah as she nervously played with the trim on her dress.
Then…silence. It was awkward for both of them. Instead of Mrs. Needham’s cozy, slight worn drawing room, they were sitting in Lord Warrington’s formal parlor. Earlier that morning the ever-efficient Parker had sent over for some of her things. Apparently, the dress she wore yesterday was accidentally burned instead of laundered. What Sarah couldn’t understand is why they burned her shoes as well.
“This is a beautiful room,” offered Victoria.
“This is all so very odd. I’m so sorry,” said Sarah
Victoria reached over to grasp her hand. “It’s me who should apologize. Sarah, I feel terrible about what I told that constable. I was just so upset about Florence and flustered at all their questions.”
Sarah took hold of her hand. “There is nothing to apologize for, you only repeated what I foolishly said. Please tell me, like Mrs. Needham, you don’t believe I actually killed her?”
“Of course you didn’t. I’m sure it will all be sorted out.”
“Have they found Elma yet?”
“She sent word to Mrs. Needham. She was so spooked by the whole thing she fled to the home of that female painter she has been sitting for.”
The sound of rattling china and silver interrupted their conversation. A few moments later, Pierce walked through the door carrying their afternoon tea tray. Both women immediately rose to take it from him.
“Oh my!”
“Lord Warrington, you shouldn’t!”
Pierce laughed. “I can assure you I am perfectly capable of carrying a tea tray although your concern is heartwarming.”
“It really isn’t proper for you to wait on us like this,” fussed Sarah as he placed the tray between them.
“It wasn’t my intention. The parlor maid had a bit of a fall. I’m afraid your lemon seed cake was a casualty. Shall I ring Cook to prepare another plate for you both?”
“Oh! For us! We all know seed cake is your particular favorite!” teased Victoria.
Pierce was too busy staring at Sarah to pay her comment much mind. He felt a sense of ease, seeing her sitting so prettily in his parlor, as if she belonged there. Perhaps she did? An interesting thought.
