Caine's Curse

by Josie Dennis

  “Caine.” She swallowed, her eyes on his rock-hard body. “You’re, um, in discomfort?”

  Caine let out a rough laugh. “Discomfort? Iris, love, I’m so aroused the slightest breeze makes me even harder.”

  Peter shifted now, pushing himself to a seated position. “You need release, Caine.”

  Caine nodded and came closer to the bed. “I do.”

  Iris bit her lip, unsure. “Never say you want me, too?”

  “I want you, love. I want to fuck you hard and fast.”

  Her surprise must have shown on her face, for he held up a hand. “I won’t, though. Not at present.”

  She felt a mix of relief and disappointment. “Of course.”

  Peter grasped her chin. “You would scarcely be able to walk were he to take you now.”

  She couldn’t help but shiver. “I can see that.”

  Peter chuckled, ease in his voice and in his demeanor. “Are you saying he’s larger than myself?”

  “I am no judge, Peter. But by the way you felt inside of me? I daresay you’re at least as large.”

  “He is,” Caine said, settling on the edge of the wide bed. “Although he looks quite pleased with himself at the moment.”

  Iris studied Caine, from the intensity of his gaze to his obvious arousal and back again. “Do you wish for me to ease you?”

  His brows shot upward. “I will admit, you are very surprising.”

  She shrugged, lifting her chin. “I am soiled now, aren’t I? Why not let the two of you do what you will?”

  Chapter Six

  Peter’s heart wrenched, and he reached out for Iris. “Sweetheart, you aren’t soiled. Not in the least.”

  “I’m no longer pure,” she countered.

  “There is no argument there,” Caine said. “But it doesn’t follow that you are anything less than what you were before Peter’s incredible taking of you.”

  She appeared thoughtful, and Peter took that as a good sign.

  “I tell you what,” he began, tickling her a little until he won a smile out of her. “Let me ease Caine and you can merely observe.”

  Her violet eyes lit with acute interest at the prospect, so Peter took that as a positive sign.

  “Caine,” he said. “Do you want me to suck you?”

  Iris gasped, but Caine nodded. “More than just about anything at this moment.”

  “You’ll kiss him there, Peter?” Iris asked. “As he did me?”

  “Precisely.” Peter came to his knees, his body still wonderfully relaxed after the most exquisite release he’d ever experienced. “Caine, you’re ready.”

  “More than, I’m afraid.” He closed his eyes and let his head fall back. “Make me come. Please.”

  Peter skirted around Iris, who was seated now with the linens held up over her incredible breasts. Her eyes were large and inquisitive as Peter came toward Caine’s erection.

  It was a beautiful thing, Caine’s cock. Peter had never loved a man before this particular one, yet he would say that Caine was nearly as beautiful as Iris. Closing his mouth around the broad tip of Caine’s cock, he began to suckle.

  Caine moaned, a sound of intense pleasure. His taste was already in Peter’s mouth, already stamped on him like Iris’s sweet scent, and he licked and sucked up and down his thick shaft.

  “Oh, Peter.” Iris’s voice was soft. Needy. “That’s lovely.”

  Caine groaned again, arching as Peter settled his hands on Caine’s taut ass. When he began to buck, very close to his release, Peter took as much as he could into his mouth and hummed.

  “Ah!” Caine bucked and shuddered. “Peter!”

  He came then, in hot spurts down Peter’s throat. Peter took all of it, tasting more of his spice and feeling his climax as if it were his own. Caine’s head was still thrown back, and his throat worked as he gave over to the pleasure Peter had given him.

  Peter kissed his way up Caine’s ridged abdomen and broad chest to nuzzle his throat. “I know it’s not Iris’s tight, wet pussy, but I trust you’re pleased?”

  Caine’s body shook with his shout of laughter. “This is most singular,” he observed.

  Peter grinned and turned to find Iris still watching. Her expression was soft and beautiful, and he wrapped his arms around her. “Did that scandalize you, sweetheart?”

  She gave a slow shake of her head. “No. Astonish me, however? Oh, it most assuredly did.”

  Caine was visibly more relaxed when he joined them on the bed. “There are many ways to love, Iris. Today was just the beginning. That is, if you truly wish to continue this?”

  Peter might have only known Caine for a few days, but he’d never before heard such uncertainty in his voice. He himself was also aware that all of this could end with one command from Iris. Caine and he would continue on, he supposed. He was coming to crave this man as much as he’d ever craved Iris. But something elemental would be missing were that to transpire.

  “I do,” Iris whispered.

  “Pardon?” Peter asked, afraid he’d heard her incorrectly.

  She bit that luscious bottom lip again and nodded. “I do wish this to continue.”

  Caine and Peter let out a collective sigh of relief and hugged her to them.

  The clock on the mantel chimed, and Peter let out a groan. “I must serve at table this evening.”

  Iris made a sound of agreement, cuddling closer to Caine as Peter stood beside the bed.

  Caine’s face wore a stamp of his ease and a touch of amusement. “I believe I’ll need your assistance in rousing our goddess.”

  “Goddess.” Peter nodded. “Fitting.”

  “Hmm.” Iris stirred again, and then sat bolt upright. “I must go ready for the countess!”

  Peter took her hand in his kiss and dropped a kiss on her palm. “I’ll make certain there is no one about, sweetheart. Then you can hurry up to your room and make yourself presentable.”

  “And you’ll make me so,” Caine said, stretching with a lusty yawn.

  The linens were down around his narrow waist, and his magnificent chest drew Peter’s gaze. He saw that Iris took appreciative note of Caine’s physique, as well, and he wished for a moment that this connection among the three of them could last beyond Caine’s visit.

  His mood soured a bit at that impossible wish. He took Iris in hand and helped her dress with some speed before seeing her safely out of Caine’s guest room. After donning his slightly rumpled uniform, he waited while Caine washed up a bit.

  “That was beyond anything, Peter.” Caine rejoined him.

  Peter could only nod. What he’d felt when he’d been as close to Iris as a man could get was only just now penetrating his mind.

  “Are you all right, Peter?” Caine stood as Peter helped into a clean shirt and trousers. “I hope I didn’t overstep after you and Iris were together.”

  “You didn’t, Caine.” Peter arranged the items on top of the dressing table.

  “You don’t wish to speak of it.”

  Peter turned to him. “What?”

  “Fiddling with those things, Peter. It is your favorite stalling tactic.”

  Peter blinked. “How could you know so much about me?”

  Caine looked surprised, as well. “I’m connected to you.”

  “Is it always this way with your lovers?”

  Caine laughed lightly. “Lovers? I have never had a one.”

  Peter arched a brow. “Truly.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I’ve had sexual conquests, Peter. Partners. Never lovers. Not until you. And Iris.”

  “She’s your lover?”

  Caine shrugged. “She will be. Is that not what you wish to hear at this moment?”

  “Not at all.” Peter stilled and faced Caine fully. “This cannot be solely for the length of your visit, Caine. I’m not speaking of you and me. But of Iris.”

  Caine was quiet as Peter finished his dress. “I’m confused.”

  “What I felt when I was inside of her? It was b
eyond the physical.”

  “You love her.”

  “I’m not certain, but I have to somehow keep her close. No matter what she might think after all of this, I cannot let her go.”

  Caine appeared thoughtful, then he nodded. “If you don’t want me to take her, I won’t.”

  “That’s not it.” Peter brushed his hair back into some semblance of order. “The thought of you taking her? That is something I must see.”

  “I don’t understand the issue then.”

  Peter couldn’t tell Caine about his responsibilities. Of his family who depend on his regular packets of pay. Orphans all, and all his to support. Caine was a Hawk. He was wealthy, nearly as wealthy as the earl himself, and surely could never imagine such a blessing and a burden.

  “Never mind.” Peter smiled. “My brain must be addled by too much pleasure.”

  Caine apparently took Peter at his word. He clapped him on the shoulder. “Surely there will be more to come.”

  Peter finished smoothing Caine’s jacket and stepped back. “I’ll see you at dinner, then.”

  As he reached the door, Caine called out to him. Peter turned to find him wearing a determined expression.

  “We will speak of this again, Peter. Count on it.”

  Peter inclined his head and left the chamber. Upon reaching the attics, he was almost relieved that the men’s and women’s section of the servants’ room were divided. Otherwise he would be tempted to go to Iris and make certain she was all right. What could he say to her? That their lives would be fine after this was over? That he would make her his forever? He was in no position to make either assertion.

  Tamping down the melancholy these realizations caused, he readied to serve Caine and the rest of the Hawk family.

  * * * *

  The next morning Iris rose early. The countess may keep her days short now, but that didn’t stop her from rising with the sun and ringing for Iris. She groaned softly as she came to her feet. Her body was sore in places she’d scarcely imagined, and with every twinge, with every swipe of the washing cloth, she recalled with vivid clarity the events of yesterday. She would more than likely see Peter in the servants’ hall at some point during the day. How she would face him without blushing, she had no real notion.

  After securing her hair in a sedate bun and topping her head with a lace cap, she left her room. Hurrying down the back stairs, she headed for the common rooms and a bracing cup of tea. Mrs. Padmont made the strongest tea Iris had ever encountered and, as she couldn’t quite stomach the coffee many of the others preferred, it was just what she needed.

  The hall was empty, and she took a moment to slowly breathe in and out. What was she thinking, embarking on this liaison with Peter and Caine? She knew what she was now, despite both gentlemen’s assertions. Nevertheless, she would continue on in service at Hawksfell Manor. On that, she had complete faith. Caine was a Hawk, after all. If anyone could secure her future, it was surely a relative of the earl himself. No, it was her heart that was in peril.

  “Iris, how are you this morning?” Mrs. Padmont asked.

  Iris smiled at the esteemed Hawksfell cook. “Well, Mrs. Padmont.”

  The cook, a stout woman whose face was nearly always wreathed with a smile, clicked her tongue. “You look a bit tired, Iris. Is the countess growing more demanding as her time nears?”

  “Oh no, Mrs. Padmont. Quite the opposite.”

  The cook gave a sharp nod. “Then sit and I’ll brew you a pot of the strongest tea I have in the cupboard.”

  Iris grinned. “You are truly a godsend.”

  Mrs. Padmont waved a hand, her cheeks pink and her eyes sparkling. “You sound like the newest Hawk.”

  Iris stilled. “Pardon?”

  “Lord Burnley was down here just a few moments ago. Said that Hawksfell must be urging him to keep country hours.”

  “I wouldn’t believe him to be an early riser.” Iris felt her cheeks flame. “That is I’ve never known the Quality, aside from the countess, who preferred to rise with the sun.”

  Mrs. Padmont clicked her tongue. “There have been a few of the earl’s relatives who weren’t quite so high in the instep, Iris. Still, a man like Lord Burnley seems much more of a libertine.”

  Iris sucked in a breath. “A libertine?”

  The cook waved both her hands now. “Never mind! Oh, should Mrs. Holmes find out I’m trading in such talk, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Iris inclined her head, more than happy to see the subject dropped. By the time she neared the bottom of her tea cup, she felt more settled. Her mind wouldn’t cease its turning, however. Caine was a libertine? More so than every other Hawk gentleman?

  The other servants soon sat all around the table in anticipation of breakfast. The kitchen maids served them all, and when Mr. Carstairs entered, each and every servant stood until he took his seat.

  “Good morning,” the butler said, tucking into his meal of eggs and ham.

  Similar greetings sounded around the table. Peter rushed in, taking up the empty place across from her. Their eyes met for a moment, and Iris managed to hold her expression. He looked far more composed than she felt. That was certain. Even his hair, that shock of glossy auburn that was always slightly mussed, was smoothed in place.

  “Good morning,” Peter rushed out, lifting his cup of coffee.

  “Peter,” Mr. Carstairs began. “I trust all is going well with Lord Burnley?”

  Iris was certain that only she caught the slight hesitation before Peter answered with his usual smile.

  “Indeed, Mr. Carstairs. The earl’s newest relative has been no trouble at all.”

  “He is pleased, then?” the butler asked.

  Peter slid his gaze to Iris before speaking. “I believe he is most pleased, yes.”

  Mr. Carstairs nodded and resumed eating. Iris could scarcely consume her meal, although Peter appeared to have no such inconvenience. The first bell to ring was Lady Hawksfell’s, and Iris was relieved to have a reason to leave the servants’ hall.

  “I’m off,” she said, keeping her gaze from Peter’s.

  “Have a good day, Iris,” Mrs. Holmes said.

  Iris smiled at the housekeeper and took measured steps toward the back stairs. Upon entering the earl’s chamber, she found the countess pouting into the glass above her dressing vanity.

  “Iris, thank goodness you’re here.”

  Iris looked around the chamber and saw that the earl was not present. That was a good thing, in her opinion. One glance into his dark eyes would immediately bring Caine to her mind, and she would be hard-pressed to keep a blush from her cheeks then.

  “What do you need, my lady?”

  “I’m growing bored, Iris. Can you give me a new hairstyle, perhaps? Or suggest a different dress?” She clicked her tongue. “Or convince this child to make its appearance?”

  Iris smiled. “I can help you on those first two requests, but I’m afraid the third is beyond my capabilities.”

  The countess sighed. “I’ve just grown so tired of waiting to see its sweet face. I can’t help but wonder if it will favor the earl or…my family.”

  Iris caught something in her tone but wouldn’t think on it. Michael Crowley was obviously as close to the countess as the earl, but did that extend to the bed? Iris inwardly scolded herself. It was none of her concern, especially in light of what Iris had done with two men just last evening.

  “Oh, ignore my histrionics, Iris,” the countess said.

  Iris just smiled. The countess might be vivacious, but no one would ever accuse her of being anything less than levelheaded.

  “Mr. Crowley is to take Lord Burnley into the village today for luncheon,” Lady Hawksfell said. “I daresay they’ll get up to some sort of mischief.”

  Iris swallowed. “Do you believe so?”

  “Not too much, Iris. Michael loves to jest, though I suspect our most recent guest is much like the earl.”

  Was that true? The earl was a very intim
idating man, although Iris had seen glimpses of a different side of him when he was with his beloved wife. He was much warmer than she reasoned most people believed. Perhaps his personal valet knew more of the earl, as well, but Iris didn’t speak much with that man.

  After Iris styled Lady Hawksfell’s hair in a fashion to her liking, the countess let out a sigh and folded her hands over her rounded belly. “This looks very nice. Thank you, Iris. I suppose I am simply bored.”

  Iris assisted her with her jewelry and handed the lady her gloves. The countess held up one hand. “It is August. True, it can get chilly here on the moors. Not that I’ll be allowed to roam over them.”

  “Do you wish to roam, my lady?”

  Lady Hawksfell laughed lightly. “Not in the least. Not without the earl or Mr. Crowley, that is.”

  Iris smiled. “Do you require anything else?”

  The countess blew out a breath. “No.” She tilted her head to one side. “You won’t leave me, will you?”

  Iris blinked. “Why would you believe I would?”

  “Because they all leave. The earl’s magnetic relatives come to roost, and our staff swiftly dwindles.”

  Iris said nothing to that. She dropped a curtsy and left the lady’s chamber. Surely the woman wasn’t aware of what Iris had done, or nearly done, with Caine Hawk.

  Or of what Iris would likely most eagerly do this coming evening.

  Chapter Seven

  Caine nodded at something Michael Crowley said as the man piloted the Daimler back toward Hawksfell Manor. The Inn at Helmsley was a pleasant space and their luncheon had been a simple yet hearty meal of meats and cheeses, but Caine hadn’t for one moment believed Michael’s tale of Matthew Hawk’s first meeting his wife, Posy, there. Michael had a great many stories in a similar vein, observations of any number of Hawks and the manner in which they met their wives. All seemed quite unbelievable to Caine, yet who was he to contradict such a close friend of the earl and countess?

  “Alas, I remain decidedly unattached,” he finished.

  Caine turned his head to face Michael. A smile played around his mouth, as one often did. Lady Hawksfell’s third cousin was a jovial gentleman who seemed to greatly enjoy his position as a favored friend and resident to the earl.