by Flora Dain
Poised at my peak, I thought I should explode with pleasure, when he gave a low, animal grunt. To my fury, he slid out of the one gateway and nudged up into the other, edging in gently at first but pushing without mercy, his cock slick and oily with my essence. At my sudden gasp he slowed, his column inching forward until I breathed normally again.
“Are you settled, Saffina? Shall I go on?”
The concern in his tone almost tipped me over into bliss. I fought back more tears, startled and emotional at this new invasion. Pleasure tingled and sparked as far as my fingertips and toes. Little pinpricks of arousal flared like hot stars as he laced our union with this extra wickedness.
Almost overcome, I managed a strangled nod.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, yes. It feels…”
“It feels how? Tell me, child.”
“It feels wonderful— Oh.”
Without warning, he pressed hard on my swelling, throbbing sex. All at once my climax spilled over into an ocean of pleasure.
As my belly convulsed around him, he pounded strong and fast until he pumped into me, over and over. It seemed to last a while.
Finally I felt his straining body relax along my back as his own pleasure ebbed. He folded his arms around me in a loving embrace, sure sign of his content and an even surer seal on mine.
He buried his head in my neck as he held me close. “I’ve waited so long for someone like you. So long…”
I felt something hot and wet fall on one burning breast and trickle down, cooling as it traveled over the curve of my glowing, punished globe, hot again as it wound its way over my belly. Another followed, and another—until I felt his kiss, hot and wet, full on my shoulder.
Was it possible my stern guardian wept?
After a pause he unfastened me and laid me in bed, as tender as any maid. I lay in his arms while he stroked my hair.
“Tomorrow the marquis will suggest a visit to the maze. He’ll use it as a cover to lure you into a foursome with his doxies. On no account must you join in. One of them is diseased. When you first enter the maze, let the others go on ahead a little and try to hang back. When they are out of sight, take the turning on the right.”
“But—suppose the others turn right?”
He grinned. “For the first ten yards there is no turn to the right. But when the others have gone on ahead, for you, a turning will magically appear.”
“What, more trickery?” I smiled, excited now.
He put a finger to my lips. In the flickering light his eyes gleamed. “Hush. Wait and see. But remember—no one must see you.”
Chapter Eight
Next morning I woke to bright sunlight, a raging headache and the heavy aroma of chocolate. Madame offered me my first cup.
At the first sip, I pushed it away.
“It’s freshly made, milady. Drink. It will give you strength.”
“It tastes vile.” I glared at her. “Take it away. It even smells vile.”
What on earth was wrong with me? I loved chocolate. This matter must be playing on my nerves.
I longed to ask her about Jacquard and why he so feared a man like Henri Toulon. How could a mere government clerk without taste, wit or style possibly threaten the great Lord Endale?
“Why does Monsieur Toulon scare everyone so? Does he have magic powers?”
She put down the spurned cup with a clatter. Real tears glittered in her eyes.
“You stupid little fool, do you see nothing? Zat man is malin, and ’is lordship is in grave danger. He only stay ’ere because of you.”
She was genuinely upset. She’d said this much before, but she’d always refused to explain.
I patted the covers. “Madame? Sit. Talk to me. Please.”
Startled, she perched on the edge of the bed. She clasped her hands in her lap, her strong profile firm and calm. But her thin fingers knotted together, her knuckles white.
“Look me in the eye,” I said sternly.
Deep down, her unease puzzled me. I well knew she was loyal to Jacquard. She’d told me, near tears, how his act of kindness had once won her trust. And I knew she owed her cold manner to a tough life.
I’d suffered hardship too. I knew better than most how it much chilled the heart. But now, sitting this close, I sensed what it was about her that disturbed me so much.
She is afraid.
“Please, Madame,” I said quietly. “Tell me what ails him.”
She glanced nervously at me then away again. At last she started to speak, her voice low. “Last year his lordship meet Toulon’s cousin. She was a shy young woman, very plain. Awkward. He make friends with ’er, seek ’er out for dancing. Simply in kindness. And because he take notice of ‘er, others do also. She soon make a good match. But Toulon object. He accuse milord of corrupting ’er, attempting a seduction. It was a lie. But when milord laugh it off Toulon insist on a duel. Milord laugh again because everyone know Toulon cannot shoot. But at ze last minute, Toulon send a professional assassin in his place. Milord shoot to disarm ’im. Then he treat all as a joke. He tell ’is friends. All over Europe Toulon become a laughing stock.”
She glanced at me, troubled. “Toulon dare not take any official action or even admit to a duel. Ze scandal would finish ’is career. And after Waterloo, milord Endale is an envoy. He play a role in peace talks. He ’ave diplomatic immunity but also rank, wealth and connections. Toulon cannot touch ’im.”
She bit her lip. “But Toulon swear to kill ’im. Now ’e seek revenge.” She glared at me. “And if he cannot harm milord, maybe he try to harm someone close. Like you, milady.”
As she laced my petticoats and dressed my hair, I considered this. Jacquard’s part I could easily believe. Both his allure and his colorful past were well known. But Henri dangerous? Surely not. He was far too dull. He was a nobody compared to my guardian.
There must be more to this.
Jacquard had merely said Toulon was a creditor, while Madame thought him pure evil. My guardian had a flair for the dramatic, while gossip and servants exaggerated things. I suspected the real reason lay somewhere in between. Either my guardian hid, hoping to meet secretly with Madame Lamont and avoid offending her lover the marquis, or he was simply avoiding some jealous husband.
I shook my head with a wry smile. Both explanations seemed to me far more likely.
Madame must be imagining things.
And the threat to me? No worry there.
I could look after myself.
I’d done it before. I could do it again.
* * * *
When I finally joined the company, primped and preened to perfection by Madame and the maids, Monseigneur le Marquis was waiting out in the gardens with a large party of the guests.
From the looks on their faces, the maze was a big attraction. As I joined the group, he greeted me warmly.
“Ah, Lady Saffina, belle comme une fleur. You are positively blooming this morning. Your secret lover suits you well, I see.”
I managed a careless laugh and felt myself blush. He was close to the mark. “I cannot deny it, Monseigneur. He is most attentive.” I arched an eyebrow and darted a saucy look around the group. “As I should expect any lover to be in a setting as lush as this.”
He darted a triumphant glance at his ladies, who smirked knowingly at each other. It seemed plans for the foursome were well in hand.
“I was just telling our guests that tomorrow’s costume ball will be honored by a special guest. His grace, the mighty Duke of Wellington no less, is to call in on his way through the region en route to Bohemia.”
Henri looked smug. “A great honor indeed, Monsieur le Marquis. You will present me to him.”
The marquis looked nervous. “Ah, yes, certainement.” He coughed. “After the proper formalities, my good sir.”
Now Henri turned to me and took my arm, his grasp firmer than I liked.
I pulled my arm away. “La, sir, you are very forward this morning. Too much champagne?�
�� I tried to make light of it, but he seized me again.
When I finally shook him off, he leaned close with a tetchy whisper, “I never drink, milady. And why not get closer? Your antics last night prove you are well skilled in the arts of love.”
“And you in ill-timed moves,” I said lightly. “The morning is no time to flirt out in the open. Whatever next?”
As we entered the maze, the party straggled out into twos and threes between the tall hedges. After the first few yards, I darted back for an imaginary lost button and a new gap yawned in the greenery.
As I slipped inside, a tall wooden gate, thickly fringed on one side with yew branches, swung silently shut behind me.
I had just time to see I was in some kind of fenced-off enclosure when I was swept up into Jacquard’s arms. He spun me around, grinning. The second I gasped he clapped a hand over my mouth.
“Hush. Keep very quiet. Hedges have ears.” He silenced my mouth with his own, in a kiss so dramatic and demanding I felt weak with longing.
Out here in the sunshine the sight of my lover stopped my breath. He far outshone any of the gentlemen I’d met here. His fine, firm profile and his dark hair, glinting with traces of silver, gave his elegant figure grace and poise. His intelligent glance gave it power and an irresistible allure.
Now his eyes danced as he led me to a small summerhouse hidden from view among the high hedges. He pulled me down onto his lap. “This is a refuge for the gardeners. I bribed them to stay away. We’re safe here. Come. Tell me how much you enjoyed last night. And not in words.”
Who needed words? With birdsong all around us, and the scents of jasmine, musk rose and lavender wafting across from the gardens, I took my time.
I loosened his clothes and reached inside to feel his glorious muscled limbs. He teased my bosom out of its flimsy lace ruffles and let my rosy breasts push eagerly against the soft fabric of his waistcoat. Out here in the bright sunlight, they glowed milky pale, flushed with points of crimson where the marks from his wicked little martinet still lingered, fading to rose and cinnamon where his touch had been light.
In the open air and under the heat of his gaze, my nipples stiffened to hard, puckered little nubs. When he licked them, they tensed to numbness. A shiver ran through me, settling with a pleasurable burn deep in my groin.
The sight of my bare, sunlit bosom seemed to inflame him. He folded my globes in his hands and kissed them long and deeply, groaning as I made short work of his trouser flap and reached inside to free his hot, jutting manhood from his clothes.
Soon I was stretched out beneath him along the padded seat. I writhed on its buttoned leather as he crushed me into its soft cushions, his passion firing mine, making me bold and burning me up. He pinned me down with his mouth, impaled me with his tongue, kissing me greedily, now lightly, now deeply. His kisses left me breathless, burning for more.
He pulled up my rumpled skirts to find my thighs and stroked me as if I were a cat, questing deeper and deeper into my snowy lace as I teased and fondled his twitching cockstand, sliding my fingers over it, sensing the raw power under its soft silky skin, feeling my way over its glowing ridges and into the little dips along the top. With a tiny thrill I dipped a soft fingertip into the precious drops of fluid already pooling on his crown. I longed to reach down to taste, but his weight and his strength were too great.
He was still in command of my lips. I yielded to him all their full, ripe softness, willing him to feel the love I dare not speak aloud.
He pulled away at last, his eyes murky with desire. “You taste so good out here, child. Open for me.”
Obedient for once, I spread my legs wide under him, shuddering as he reached his hand deep between my legs to find my throbbing, pulsing little bud and slide his fingers inside me. He followed with his shaft, almost at once, with a sure, swift plunge that skewered my lust—pinning me instantly in a heavy, pounding rhythm that rocked my heartbeat into a matching dance and made me whimper with delight.
At the same moment, he caught my mouth, teasing my lips open with his tongue, laughing even as I gasped for air and for joy at the punishing, glorious drumbeat he was setting up below.
At last he pulled away to end our kiss. Now he slowed his rhythm to examine me. He explored my warm, pink-sprinkled breasts, skimming the tiny marks and dots left by the cruel martinet and following through with his lips, as tender now as he’d been harsh before.
He dropped soft little kisses over them and teased my nipples, making them bunch even harder. They grew numb once more as he slid his questing hand into the slick juices coursing past my wide, pulsing folds, stretched tight round his hot, ridged member, still moving inside me until he chose to plunge to his fill.
I kissed him back eagerly. I wound my arms tightly round his neck. He laughed softly in my ear and tormented my wide-stretched, throbbing little bud with soft touches of his fingertips then ground hard against me.
Now he sped up. His breath quickened as he surrendered to the soft undertow of my lusty belly. My cavern clenched around him, lapping up his surging, plunging heat.
“You unman me, Saffina. You’re softer than velvet. Sweeter than peach. Now ride me. Sit on top.”
With a lunge he heaved us both over on the seat. I sat astride him, laughing softly down at him. I thrilled to the cool feel of the fresh open air all around us, the hot sunlight on my back. Below me his thighs clenched, bunched rods of muscle that pounded against my burning bottom at every thrust. His energy and his power vividly recalled last night’s torment, arousing me anew.
I dipped low and nuzzled in his neck while he stroked my hair and cupped my backside with his hand. As I pounded, he forced me on with a whisper-soft laugh, pressing me in.
Now my own climax was building higher. Rapture was close, almost here…
“Easy, my lady. Take your time,” his hoarse whisper thrilled through me, making me ache. “No need to rush things. It will be a while before your companions come back. Tell me how you amuse yourself with the others. How fares our quest? Have you found yourself a lover yet?”
“Yes, my lord,” I whispered, curving low over him as I kissed and nibbled at his ear. “I’ve found myself a lover.”
“And a husband? Have you found a suitable match?”
I nibbled again. “Yes, sir, indeed. More than suitable. But it’s a secret. He knows nothing about it yet.”
He pushed me away to smile up into my face, letting my hair, long working loose from Madame’s tight, restraining hairpins, tumble out of its fashionable coiffure and fall around us in a shining, wavy curtain.
“And who is this paragon, pray? Are you going to let me in on your secret?”
I kissed his cheek. “How can you ask, my lord? I lost my heart the moment we met. And now Monsieur Toulon—”
His eyes flashed. “What? Toulon? Did I not warn you—?”
At that moment there was a sudden commotion all around us. We looked up rigid with shock as armed men appeared in our small enclosure. Beyond them the gateway in the hedge yawned open as more men spilled in.
I leaped to my feet, covering myself with one hand. I clutched my rumpled skirts with the other as Henri strode forward.
“Seize him. The rogue has defied me once too often. Don’t let him get away.”
One look at Henri’s tense, grim face warned me this was no game. Jacquard was already on his feet, hastily buttoning himself as the men seized his arms.
“At last I have you, you wretch.” Now Henri turned to me with a look of steel. “So, milady. The morning is no time to dally with an honest man, but a perfect time to fornicate with a villain?”
I glared back at him. “How did you find us, sir?”
“I’m a practical man, Lady Saffina. When I hear noises in walls, I smell a rat. And when a healthy young woman vanishes into a hedge, I look for a door, not a ghost.”
I lifted my chin, ignoring my rumpled frills. “This is monstrous, sir. We are guests here and British subjects. Free his lordsh
ip at once. We demand to drive away from here.”
“With all the roads watched? I think not. When you English chase a fox, you stop all his earths to prevent his escape and you call it sport. Here in France we do the same with criminals”—his eyes narrowed—“but we call it justice.”
His thin mouth twitched with satisfaction. “The warrant for your guardian was issued yesterday. And you, as his ward, now come under my protection.”
He signaled his guards. “Take her to her apartments and lock her in.”
Chapter Nine
As the men dragged me into the house, I kicked and shrieked but to no avail. They were too strong. Indoors I simply wasted my breath. There was no one about.
The guests were outside and the servants below stairs.
As we drew near my room, a waft of cold air made me shiver. Around me the burly guards—rough, hardened former soldiers to a man—all stopped in their tracks and stared at something ahead. Their mutters were not the courtly French I’d learned in the schoolroom, but I sensed their fear.
And then I saw it.
At the end of the passage a figure shrouded in white glided across our path and seemingly vanished. At the same moment a low moan echoed around us. It seemed to come from the very walls.
The White Lady?
The men clearly thought so. To a man, they crossed themselves and cowered back. All but one of them fled. Whey-faced, the lone straggler still gripping my arm, stared after his companions then back at me. With a grunt he pushed open my door, shoved me through and slammed it shut.
His thudding footsteps pounded away into the distance and now all became quiet.
My heart beat like a hammer. I tried the handle and the door opened—just a crack, but enough to lift my spirits, ghost or no ghost. And to my joy the key was still in the lock.
I opened wide enough to reach round for it—and froze.
Across the passage the corner of a ghostly gown showed below a fringed velvet drape. Silently I slid the key out of the lock and prepared to slam the door shut— then paused.
