“Naturally, Your Grace,” Leo said, bowing slightly as the man stood. “I wouldn’t dream of wasting your time.”
“And yet, you are,” Wyden grumbled. Scowling, he took a few cautious steps, then turned sharply to face Leo directly. “Well?”
“I came to inform you of my progress,” Leo said. “And to ask a favor.”
“It’s curious how often those two seem to go hand-in-hand.”
Leo watched as Wyden continued walking. He’d never seen the man stand, except when leaning on the shoulder of another, and was surprised by the aged count’s height. Upright, Wyden bested him by nearly half a head.
“Cirilla Orczy has been dealt with,” Leo said. “She has agreed to lend her support against Terras. Together, we’ve already forced Olden to withdraw from the election. The count himself struck the final blow and we plan to spread word of his contribution tomorrow.”
“Clever,” Wyden said. Tottering to a table laden with various alcohols, he poured himself a small glass. He did not offer one to Leo. “But you raise more questions than you answer. This plan of yours will hurt Count Terras, certainly, but it will not be enough to settle the matter. I assume you have more to share?”
“Only my request,” Leo replied. “Nicolo, Olden’s replacement as alderman, will be holding a victory celebration of sorts. If you could somehow arrange Terras to be present, I believe we can deal with him once and for all.”
Wyden froze, mid-sip, and slowly placed his glass back down on the table. He turned slightly toward Leo but did not face him.
“I trust you remember our previous conversation?” he asked. “Ansiri cannot afford rioting, much less a riot that slays one of its counts.”
“I’m not planning anything of the sort,” Leo said quickly. “Ter—the count and I recently exchanged words. Heated ones. If he attends, I expect things to proceed. It will be a duel, not a riot.”
“Less clever,” Wyden noted sourly. “Count Terras is many things, but he is not a fool. If I ask him to attend this party of yours, he will be on guard against such schemes. He will not take your bait.”
“Leave that to me, Your Grace.”
This time, Wyden did look at him. The elderly count cut a far more imposing figure when he stood, so much so that Leo could almost forget the man’s missing leg. He could just imagine the way Wyden must have looked in his prime. And, for the first time, Leo understood precisely how the man had managed to become the Second Count of Ansiri.
“I don’t appreciate being kept in the dark, Leo,” the man said. “I appreciate your ambition and the lengths to which you are willing to go to achieve it. But I will not risk the survival of this city so you can prove yourself a deft tactician.”
Leo swallowed and bowed slightly.
“It’s not that, Your Grace,” he said. “If I share the details of my plan, you become party to them. If I fail, then I will suffer the consequences alone. To inform you is to involve you.”
“Hardly. Pressuring Count Terras to attend is evidence enough,” Wyden pointed out. “Besides, do you think a man in my position isn’t already being observed by half of Ansiri’s nobility? Your decision to come here without summons will have been noted. I could hardly be more involved if I wielded the blade myself.”
Sighing, Leo glanced at the parlor’s closed door and sidled away from it.
“Very well, Your Grace,” he said softly. “But please indulge my silence where you can.”
“I will be the judge of that.”
“Terras and I fought, bodily, during our last conversation. Truthfully, I could probably have killed him, though I chose not to for obvious reasons. I did, however, make certain threats. I warned him that the next time I saw him, I would serve his head to the Duke on a platter.”
“ Leo ,” Wyden groaned. Wincing, the man gazed helplessly up at the ceiling. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“Ambition,” Leo admitted, somewhat evasively. “The point is, Terras will be expecting me to lash out at him. If he comes, he’ll do so armed. I’m certain I can provoke him into striking first.”
“Well, you’ve hardly left him a choice!” Wyden grumbled. “And if he kills you?”
“He won’t,” Leo insisted. “I’m faster and stronger than him. And, if it came to it, I have slaves and servants who would gladly take a blade for me.”
“That’s your plan? Start a duel with the Third Count in the middle of the street? You might as well have killed him when you had the chance, then. At least there would have been fewer witnesses.”
“I’m not going to kill him,” Leo said. He was more than a little gratified to see a note of surprise creep into Wyden’s face at the revelation. “Only make him think I plan to.”
“What good will that do?”
“Your Grace,” he murmured, unable to keep the pleasure from his voice. “Think about it. Terras will draw his sword and attempt to kill me—along with any other unfortunate who happens to get in his way. And all this will happen in the midst of a public rally, led by a charismatic speaker who’s made a name for himself denouncing the violence of men like Terras. The crowd itself will drive him from the city.”
Wyden eyed him thoughtfully for a moment, then retrieved his glass and sipped it. “That sounds suspiciously like a riot,” he said.
“It won’t be,” Leo promised him. “I’ve already spoken to Nicolo. He understands the need for… restraint. He’ll keep their anger focused on Terras alone, not the Duke or the nobility at large.”
“That’s easier said than done,” Wyden grumbled. For an instant, he seemed about to say more. Then, with a sigh, he downed the last of his drink. “Very well, Leo. I’ll speak to Terras and convince him to make a brief appearance.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“But, let me be very clear about one thing,” Wyden continued, rounding on him. “The unrest your alderman has caused will not be repeated. If things get out of hand, I am holding you responsible. You, and you alone. Am I clear?”
Leo bowed, doing his best to look far more confident than he felt.
“Perfectly clear, Your Grace,” he said.
Leo turned to leave, but before he’d even reached the door, Wyden cleared his throat. Looking back, he found the old man smiling.
“You forgot to mention something,” Wyden said. “Baroness Orczy—how did you convince her to join your cause?”
Leo chuckled. “Actually, it was her idea. She… approached me with a proposal. Several proposals, in fact.”
“Ah,” Wyden said. From his tone, it was clear the man had already known the answer—or at least, suspected it. Refilling his glass, he lifted it in toast. “Well then, my best wishes to the both of you. And good luck.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The following morning found Leo so tense and excited he could hardly sit still. He woke early, throwing back the sheets and climbing out of bed before he even realized it was still dark outside. The estate was quiet, the morning shift of servants having only risen a few minutes before him. They were surprised to find him pacing in a corner of the kitchen, already dressed and with a hand on his rapier, but began their work in hurried silence.
He was still there, wandering endlessly, when Brigit appeared. She was dressed in her nightgown, but still managed to look the part of a strict governess as she took his arm and practically dragged him out of the kitchen.
“Master, what are you doing?” she demanded in a hushed tone.
Leo glanced at her, his feet slowing.
“What do you mean ‘what am I doing?’” he asked, slightly indignant. “I’m not doing anything. Just thinking.”
“You’re hovering,” Brigit countered. “And you’re distracting the girls from their work. They’re already on edge enough after what you did with Bailee.”
“Bailee?” he said. “How do you know wha—”
“Everyone knows,” Brigit grumbled, glaring. “She came to me and asked for maidenwort. Now, every time one of them sees
you, they think you’re going to drag them away for a tumble in some closet.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Leo said. He risked a lopsided grin. “I don’t have that much stamina.”
Growling, Brigit swatted his shoulder. “I’m serious,” she said. “These girls have enough to worry about without you harassing them. Give them time to adjust. If you need a distraction, you come find me, or Karran, or your drakonid. Understood?”
Leo knew he ought to be angry. In any other noble household, a servant speaking to her lord in such a manner would have been unthinkable. And yet, it had been so long since Brigit had given him a proper scolding that he couldn’t keep his grin from widening.
“Yes, ma’am,” he teased. Then, more seriously, he added, “I am sorry, Bri. I didn’t mean to cause problems for you.”
“You haven’t, Master,” she said dismissively. “Or, at least, nothing I didn’t expect. I just wish you’d warned me first.”
“It won’t happen again,” he promised.
“Yes, it will,” Brigit replied without hesitation. Eying him, she offered a reluctant grin. “But not today. Your party isn’t until this evening, correct?”
“That’s right,” Leo said. He could already sense the reason for Brigit’s inquiry and felt his body begin to respond accordingly.
“Well then,” Brigit murmured. She stepped close and guided the hilt of his sword aside so she could press the soft curves of her nightgown-clad body against him. “It seems to me that you need some way to pass the time. If you’re interested, I might have a few ideas.”
Chuckling, Leo wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. Having only just risen to chastise him, Brigit’s body was still warm from sleep. He could feel the difference between them, even through the layers of his clothing.
“I’d love to hear them,” he said.
***
Brigit yelped as Leo shoved her toward the bed and she stumbled. She started to turn, her brow already creased with a scowl, but lost her chance as Leo reached her. He embraced her from behind, kissing her neck and nipping at her ear when she squirmed.
“Master!” she protested, her voice hovering between laughter and indignation. “What are you doing?”
“Whatever I want,” he growled back. Holding her pinned between his body and the bed, he began to grind gently against her backside.
“That’s… fine,” Brigit replied. “But you haven’t even heard my ideas.”
“I bet I can guess.” Reaching down, Leo hiked the hem of the woman’s nightgown and slid his fingers teasingly up her bare thigh. “Did it involve something like this?”
Brigit spun suddenly in his arms. Grabbing his wrist, she guided it to her rear and then leaned back against the bed, trapping it there. Staring up at him, she adopted an exaggerated pout.
“Eventually,” she said. “But not yet. If you just take what you want, time won’t pass at all. Wouldn’t you prefer to savor it?”
“That depends,” Leo murmured. Leaning in, he kissed her neck, just below the lobe of her ear. “How exactly am I going to savor it?”
Brigit shuddered once, shying away from his ticklish attentions. In the process, her own lips came to rest barely an inch away from Leo’s ear.
“Discipline,” she whispered, breathlessly. As Leo pulled back, she gazed up at him with a mischievous smirk. “I’ve been quite disobedient, don’t you think, Master?”
“Oh? Have you?”
“Of course, I have,” Brigit said. “I scolded you and told you how to run your house. And since you’re my lord, it’s your duty to remind me of my place.”
“And what is your place?” he asked.
Chewing her lip in obvious anticipation, Brigit slowly turned the two of them around. She pushed Leo onto the bed. Then, when he made to remain seated on the edge, she shook her head and shooed him further onto it. Grasping his ankles, she arranged him into the proper sitting position. Then, donning the most sweetly submissive expression imaginable, she climbed forward and stretched herself face down over his lap.
“My place is here,” she said. And then, ever so slowly, she lifted the base of her nightgown to expose her pale, defenseless backside.
Leo chuckled and ran a hand gently over the curve of Brigit’s ass. They’d fooled around with such things before, of course, though never in such a deliberate fashion. In hindsight, it was an omission that surprised him. Brigit responded quite positively to the occasional smack when making love; how could it be that they’d never tried making it a centerpiece of a night’s activities?
“You’re sure about this?” he asked. It didn’t hurt to be certain.
Brigit could have shifted to look at him, but did not. Instead, she merely nodded against the sheets and gathered up preparatory handfuls of the cloth.
“I’m sure, Master,” she said.
It was all the confirmation he needed. Leo spanked her, hard and without warning. He expected Brigit’s moan, but not the shudder that ran through her immediately after. She squirmed against him, the muscles in her lower half flexing briefly before relaxing. No sooner had she done so than he repeated the measure, watching the skin of her cheek redden.
“More,” Brigit exhaled. She was practically trembling with excitement, her toes curling. “Show me who’s in charge, Master.”
He did just that. Leo unleashed a series of smacks, so varied in speed and harshness that he quickly lost count. There were dozens, however, and by the time he stopped to rest, Brigit was panting audibly. Her ass was a bright, angry red that was matched only by the part of her brow that he could see. A thin veneer of sweat glistened on the exposed portion of her lower back, the rest clinging damply to the fabric of her nightgown.
The momentary pause led to another discovery, however. While Leo was only too aware of Brigit’s writhing, he soon noticed that her movements were not limited to his discipline. Brigit’s hips continued to move even after the spanking had stopped, grinding her clit against his thigh, just above the knee.
“Stop that,” he growled. Pressing his spare hand to her tailbone, Leo held her firmly in place. At the sudden tremor that ran through Brigit’s body, he worried briefly that he’d pushed too hard. But no—with a lusty whimper, Brigit’s fingers began kneading the sheets.
“Master,” she whispered, almost pleading. “Please. Give me more orders!”
He spanked her once—just once—much harder than before.
“You don’t get to decide that,” he reminded her. “I want you to hold still. Keep your hips pressed down like that. And don’t move.”
Brigit whimpered again but obeyed. Then, as he began a new series of precise, almost delicate spanks, her moaning resumed in earnest. Another tremor ran through her, threatening disobedience as her toes twitched with the effort of remaining still beneath his hand.
Then, without warning, he switched tack. He lifted his hand as if to spank Brigit again, then waited for her almost imperceptible tensing and trailed his fingers up her inner thigh, instead. Brigit inhaled sharply and turned to look at him.
“None of that,” Leo growled. Seizing a fistful of her hair, he guided her face back to the sheets. “Facedown. And lift your hips up—you’ve lost that privilege.”
Brigit obeyed immediately, albeit with a throaty whine. She was forced to spread her knees slightly as she raised her hips, which served Leo’s purposes perfectly.
For several long minutes, he did nothing but tease her. His fingers explored Brigit’s thighs in slow, looping circles. Each time he neared her folds, he felt her begin to tense. And each time, he guided his fingers away to the sounds of Brigit’s disappointment.
Then, ever so softly, he touched her. Slowly, delicately, he brushed the length of Brigit’s sex with the edge of a solitary fingernail. She cried out at once, the sound disproportionately enthusiastic given the lightness of his touch. Before she could prepare herself, however, he bore down with a single finger. Brigit tensed again, no doubt expecting him to enter her. Instead, he simp
ly traced the outer edges of her folds, spreading the slickness he found there.
“Master,” Brigit begged. “ Please !”
“Hush,” he chided, punctuating the order with a light spank. The corresponding shudder flicked the woman’s clit against his finger and he was forced to wait for her gasping to subside before continuing. “You’re going to stay, just like that, until I decide otherwise.”
“Yes, Master,” Brigit groaned.
Turning his face slightly to hide his reaction, Leo grinned. It was painfully obvious how close Brigit was getting and he was half tempted to wait, just to add to her desperation. But, however appealing the prospect might be, he couldn’t bring himself to be quite that cruel. Brigit had taken it upon herself to distract him, after all.
And she had earned it.
“Hands behind your back,” he instructed.
Though he expected Brigit to struggle to obey, Leo was pleasantly surprised when she immediately abandoned her grip on the sheets and folded her hands neatly against her spine. He grasped her wrists with one hand. Then, with the other, he went to work.
Brigit groaned as Leo began to stroke her. As before, he used only a single finger, but that proved all the stimulation she required. He teased her clit carelessly, swinging back and forth like a pendulum. At times, he missed it entirely. At others, he feigned as if to brush it, then abruptly altered course.
And, at yet others, he gave her precisely what she craved.
“M-master!” Brigit yelped. “Don’t stop! I’m almost—I’m go—”
He thought about denying her, if only because of how she’d asked, but immediately discarded the notion. Brigit deserved more—far, far more—than a disappointing climax. Instead, he moved higher, burying his finger deep inside her and pressing down against her clit with his thumb. And, at the same moment, he took one of Brigit’s hands still pinned against her back and intertwined his fingers with hers.
It worked like a charm.
Brigit shuddered violently, her hips grinding furiously against Leo’s fingers as she came. And, since he was uncharacteristically not on the brink of his own climax, he was afforded the unusual experience of witnessing hers with clear eyes and a clearer mind. Her fingers clutched at his, even harder than the tight, clenching grip of her insides. And in reply, he did his best to ensure she enjoyed every second of her orgasm. He teased her clit with his thumb, shifting it about in cooperation with the writhing of her hips.
Baron of Hearts (Master of Monsters Book 2) Page 19
