by Flora Dain
The chatter on the way down to the cellars was shrill to deafening. The ladies were wildly excited.
“My maid told me of it the minute we arrived. Une phantôme? Quel horreur.”
“Mine’s terrified.”
“Mine too. I made her sleep on a pallet in my cabinet. The little bitch snored all night.”
“What’s that noise? I swear I heard something.”
When we finally reached it, after many pauses to hoist our skirts clear of imaginary rats—though the winding, brick-lined corridors looked neat and clean enough to me—we found a real dungeon, with leg irons, chains and ghastly implements of torture slung on hooks along the dank stone walls.
But what made me gasp—as it did every other female here—was the striking figure standing in the middle of the chamber awaiting us.
He was tall, half naked, oiled and hooded. His biceps alone could have launched a ship. Around me I felt a collective sigh as over a dozen females, well versed in the arts of pleasure and familiar with all forms of male beauty, surveyed him and yearned.
He was standing between two stout posts festooned with chains.
He was holding a whip. And as we all looked on in horrified fascination, he slowly raised it and pointed at me.
Chapter Five
Burning with excitement, I stepped forward, eager for a closer look at this stunning individual. Was this one of the guests? A Sadiste? I had heard of such creatures but never thought to meet one.
Now certain aspects of Madame’s regime and most of my encounters with Jacquard took on a new and disturbing light.
Was this all pre-arranged?
I saw a glint in the eyes burning down at me through the stern, unyielding leather that hid the figure’s face. Below it, his jaw jutted invitingly, his mouth long and firm.
I yelped as he looped my wrists to the chains. Before I could yelp again, he wrenched my laced, gaping neckline down past my shoulders, baring me to the waist.
My scattered thoughts fused at once.
No fancy unlacing here. He’d simply ripped my gown apart. My arms jolted painfully on the hard jangling metal on my wrists. It hurt.
The gleam in his eyes warned me he knew it—and he was enjoying it.
For a staged tableau, this was shockingly real.
The women in the party screamed aloud. I glanced over my shoulder. Their faces were transfixed in pleasurable horror. Some even had hands clapped over their mouths.
But all had glee in their eyes, and no one came to my aid.
I heard a collective intake of breath as my captor prowled around me, preparing me for my doom. The marquis could hardly contain himself. Eyes bulging, he reached out to feel my quivering nipple.
Instantly the whip snapped on his wrist, making him yelp. He snatched his hand away, his eyes blazing.
There was a ripple of excitement from the onlookers. And all at once I had a double shock. As the cruel lashes landed on my bare back, my tormentor grunted with effort. And I knew instantly we’d met before.
This was my night visitor.
I was so excited that I barely processed the sting of the blows. In any case, they landed with great éclat but little impact. This was more for show than torment.
Reassured now, I began to play to the crowd.
“Monsieur? Lâchez—moi, je vous en prie. Loose me, sir. I beg you.” With piteous wails, I writhed and bucked in my bonds. The women shrieked in horror.
One swore she felt faint. I fancied I even heard someone throw up.
All at once a dour snarl cut through the din. “This disgraceful exhibition passes for entertainment with the aristos, Monsieur le Marquis? Small wonder the regime collapsed.” Henri Toulon stood scowling at the back, arms folded.
I felt a sudden frisson of impatience. Surely even a clerk could see this was all for show? He didn’t have to come. The other gentlemen, with no interest in ghosts, had simply yawned and happily sloped off to play billiards.
And Henri made no move to help, I noticed.
At last the marquis led the party away to continue their tour.
I was left alone with my tormentor. He walked slowly around to face me, the whip still dangling from his arm. He raised my face up to his.
But now I got the greatest shock of all.
“I told you we’d perform for the guests. But I’ll wager we enjoyed it more than they did.” His voice was thrillingly low, the gleam in his eyes thrillingly hot. But as he tilted my chin and fastened his lips on mine, surging his tongue into my mouth with all the hot satisfaction of an eager and fully aroused lover, his kiss was the most thrilling of my life.
Thrilling—and thrillingly familiar.
Jacquard.
As he pulled away, he placed his hand firmly over my mouth. “Silence. No one must know I’m here. I’m simply avoiding one of the guests.” He smiled grimly at my horrified expression. “Merely a creditor, but a nuisance.”
He kept his voice low, barely a whisper. As he took his hand away, I gazed up at him, eyes wide. “And you could not tell me, my lord? Am I so untrustworthy?”
To my horror I felt hot tears burn. What on earth was wrong with me? I hardly ever cried. Since coming here, I’d wept all the time.
It must be all the whipping. Pleasure does strange things when it comes as fiercely and hot as this.
“Hush, child. I thought it safer not to tell you. I have enemies here.”
He gazed down at me, his expression solemn. I rubbed sensuously against his oiled, naked chest, my nipples stiffening under the rasp of springy hair that grazed them. It raised them to sharp points.
I arched an eyebrow. “It sounds to me like you have gaming debts and scandal here, just as you do in England. Do all your past acquaintances send you into hiding, sir? We’ll have no fun at all if you’re forever on the run.” I spoke in jest, but for some reason his gaze remained steady, his eyes liquid heat.
“You prefer me standing still?” His cruel mouth held the hint of a smile. All at once I was in his arms, relishing the feel of his warm hands on my breasts, my waist and my belly as he swept my eager body with his tingling, delicate touch.
“Your gown is ruined. Push it down farther. I want to see more of you.”
His husky whisper made me throb as he freed my hands.
I pushed my bodice down farther and plumped out my breasts, thrusting them upward so he could fondle their ripe fullness. As he stooped to plunder each in turn with his mouth, I arched my neck in rapture. He forced my thighs apart with his knee and drove his hand deep into my aching slit..
He growled low in his throat at the moist heat he found there. “I swear you’re a living de Milo, Saffina. You torment me beyond bearing. Open your legs. Wider.”
I struggled to obey, panting for him, desperate for the hot bulge growing in his trousers to do its worst—or its best. Stirred past bearing by the fake display we’d just performed, I longed in earnest for him to ravish me there and then. But already I heard voices from the cellars beyond. Their tour must have ended.
“They’re coming back, sir. They’ll be here any minute. We’ll be discovered.”
The thought made me shudder. At the same moment, arousal burned hotter. Fear of discovery? Or added excitement?
He seemed to sense my turmoil. “Are you afraid someone will see? All the better. Let them. Now let me taste you…” He bent me back over his arm and stooped low to fasten his mouth on my pulsing mound, his tongue slipping eagerly into the moist, swelling secrets he found there. I quivered with need, desperate to maintain position. I threaded my fingers into his hair and clutched tight.
I champed down hard on my lip so as not to cry out at this monstrous invasion, this hot, shaft of twitching, teasing pleasure, plunging into all the places I loved him to fill. My climax was climbing, unstoppable now. Any minute I would come while only feet away our party—and perhaps even the mysterious enemy Jacquard was taking so much trouble to avoid—were chattering and laughing.
Any minute
now they’d find me in all my shame, in the throes of an orgasm so intense I’d be thrashing like a landed fish.
Arrogant as ever, Jacquard ignored our danger. He dropped soft kisses all the way up my belly and pulled me gently upright, slipping his hand deeply where his tongue had just been and making me writhe as he smeared my rich juices along my pulsing, swelling places. Moisture pooled deep between my legs where I longed for release.
His eyes glittered in the guttering light from the candles as he pushed gently at my shoulders. I saw his jaw stiffen.
“Now me.”
Now? Trembling with fear, on fire with arousal and keenly aware that shame and discovery were barely seconds away, I sank to my knees on the hard stone floor and took his huge, throbbing erection into my mouth. It leaped and twitched, impossibly large, impossibly hot, and at first I doubted I’d manage him.
“All the way. Make me come before they get here.” The glint in his eyes was a challenge.
Foolishly I accepted. With their voices ringing in my ears, closer and closer, I worked him in earnest. My lips ached with the effort, my mouth full to bursting, my throat stretched and guzzling. I took his shaft in my hand down near the root and moved in time with my mouth to help speed him to completion.
With an angry snarl, he pulled my hand away. “Hands behind your back. Mouth only. All in one. And keep your eyes on mine. I want to see you strain.”
Scared now, I did as I’d been told. My forced submission made me throb all the harder down below as my aching, pulsing cunny drummed out a persistent beat, reminding me my own satisfaction was still a long way off and I was barely seconds away from social ruin.
Suppose they see?
The threat of scandal speeded my thrust and with an almighty effort, I finally reached his root and let my gag reflex, stifling though it was, squeeze him, choking back my own urges to bring him to fruition.
And just as I thought I would faint from the effort, I felt him pulse in my mouth. For long seconds he held my head in an iron grip. With my pleading, tear-filled eyes locked on the cold steel of his, I gave out a long, juddering sigh as he pumped at last and his thick, creamy emission flooded my tongue and trickled into my aching throat.
Barely in time. Light from their torches was already dancing on the far wall of the cellar, glinting off the iron rings embedded deep in the walls. He raised me to my feet, kissing the sore places on my wrists with such sensual tenderness that I felt tears sting again.
“When shall I see you again? Where are you hidden?” My anxious, whispered questions echoed around the walls but I was too late. There was no time for answers.
He was leaving and I’d still not told him my news—that I’d found my own steward.
In silence he placed a finger on his lips and pointed to a cloak draped over a wooden barrel in a corner of the cellar. Then he was gone.
Seconds later the party crowded back into the dungeon, the ladies all concerned, the men smirking at my plight.
I was demurely garbed in a cloak. Great tears of emotion were spilling convincingly down my cheeks.
I was hustled upstairs for a restorative glass of ratafia and pumped for information.
Who was my tormentor? What else had he done? What was it like?
I gave them such a lurid account that the marquis was roundly scolded for making them miss it.
* * * *
At dinner that evening I was the toast of the day, but I felt Jacquard’s absence keenly. His dour presence had kept me safe and unmolested. Now I sensed from the low whispers and the shared glances around the table that I was fair game for all the males, from the slobbering marquis right down to the leering footmen.
The thought of Jacquard hiding somewhere just out of reach infuriated me. And dancing all evening with the marquis’s podgy paws all over me was a truly horrible prospect.
Luckily Henri stayed close to my side, quietly attentive. His reassuring presence calmed me a little. But just as the dancing started, he was called away on business.
Now I was left to the mercy of the marquis, clearly the worse for champagne. As he led me in triumph into the ballroom, I thought fast. “Before we start the dancing,” I said brightly, “let’s all play Dick-Tease. It’s all the rage among the London ton.”
I was talking utter nonsense. I knew as much about the London ton as I did of the moon.
I hurried on before anyone could butt in. “One of the ladies is the Dick-Tease. The others all give her five minutes to hide then they seek her. The gentleman who finds her shouts to the others and demands a forfeit—perhaps that she remove a garment or give him a kiss. They may all come to watch. Then she chooses a new lady to be Dick-Tease. And so it goes on until just one lady is left who’s not yet paid a forfeit. She can then choose a gentleman and demand any forfeit of him that she likes—but he must perform it before you all.”
This cheerful twaddle was greeted with whoops of delight.
I made for the stairs. “I’ll be first Dick-Tease. Give me five minutes to hide.”
Chapter Six
I headed straight for my room. With the door locked, I could hunt in peace. And with any luck, it was the last place the others would come.
And if they did and found the door locked, why should they suppose me inside? And even if they guessed, why should I not hide in my very own room?
In any case, it was my last chance to search before bedtime.
When Madame came, I’d be tied up…
Jacquard had appeared in my room last night. He might have hidden there beforehand. But there was another intriguing possibility—a secret passage. Many old houses—and even new ones—had back stairs for servants.
But in the dim corridor outside my room, I shivered. Could this place really be haunted? The thought of that white figure made my spine tingle. I shook myself. It was probably some servant using those very back stairs.
With the door safely locked, I started to search in earnest. I pushed and pulled at every possible knob and panel. Nothing happened. I turned all the pictures then peeked behind the mirror, even checked under the bed.
A careful hunt behind all the drapes and tapestries yielded nothing but cobwebs and dust. At last I stared at the wardrobe in the corner of the room. In there, maybe?
After a careful but fruitless search and a terrifying standoff with a spider, the mystery was still unsolved.
Finally I leaned against the paneling, trying to ignore the pounding footsteps racing past as the guests came looking for me. Now one voice sounded out over the others—curt, strident.
Clearly irritated.
Henri.
All at once there was a loud banging on the door. “Lady Saffina? Are you in there?” Stepping back quickly in case he burst in, I jolted against a table then heard a creak—and a gap appeared in the paneling.
I’d found it. But when I peered into the passage, it was very dark. After snatching up a candle, I surveyed it with a sinking heart. It looked dirty and sinister.
Henri pounded again. Now he was talking in a low voice to some servant. “I’m sure she’s in there. She may be ill. Quickly, fetch me the key.”
Drat the man. Why could he not play games like everyone else?
I fought down irritation. After all, finding him was my one success here. I stepped inside, pulled the panel to behind me and left a tiny gap to stop it clicking back into place. I poked a bunched stocking into the hinge. I’d read enough lurid novels to know what awful perils faced young damsels when secret panels swung shut.
Sincerely hoping I was right about ghosts not being real, I made my way slowly forward. Just as I thought I’d have to drop the candle, with the melting wax so close to my fingers, I felt a cool draft of air. Another passage?
That minute the candle blew out.
Now I was in darkness thick as a blanket. But slowly my eyes adjusted. Surely there was a faint glow some way ahead? Cautiously I headed toward the light, feeling the walls as I went, so as not to trip. Now the pavement underfoot
felt smoother.
With a surge of excitement I speeded up. All at once something large, hot and heavy thumped into me from behind. I fell headlong.
“What in blazes?”
My assailant was clearly a man and seemed to weigh a ton. I was pinned beneath him, spread-eagled along the rough stone floor, all the breath knocked out of me.
Unable to breathe or speak, I was too terrified to move, but my mind raced.
I know that voice…
He turned me over with his warm hands. Slowly the glow grew brighter as my eyes adjusted. I saw his features faintly outlined, even as my breath returned. My heart leaped.
“Saffina? What the deuce?”
Jacquard.
He helped me up and steadied me as I stumbled against him. With a warning look to stay silent, he took firm hold of my hand. He frowned as he led me toward the light. It came from a candle-lit chamber at the far end of the passage.
As we approached, I sensed the coolness of darker openings along our way. These must be where passages split off to other rooms, maybe all over the château.
“We are in some kind of rabbit warren, sir?” Or maybe a catacomb? I shivered.
I’d kept my voice to a whisper but he turned to me as we emerged into the light, his face gaunt and his look stern.
“I told you I’d find you later. Why do you constantly defy me? When will you learn to do as you’re told?”
I glared back at him. “When you learn to trust me, my lord. You go to all this trouble to avoid a debt? I refuse to believe it. You’re the richest man I know. And you’re no coward. I’m sure of that. Anyway, you’re a guest here. Why skulk in passageways? There must be some other reason. Tell me.”
He drew me to him, his eyes burning into mine. “The less you know, the safer for you. And promise me you’ll keep my presence here a secret. Swear it, Saffina.”
Something about his manner was so intense I leaned up and kissed him on the jaw. “I swear—on my life. Now tell me what this is about, for pity’s sake.”
