Seduced in the Dungeon (Dark Kingdom Book 1)

by Claire Conrad

  Confident Henry would be well and happy upon my return, I hurried to the entrance and slipped inside.

  The servant’s masquerade had just begun, a handful of dominants in black and submissives in gold circling the room. None yet touched, kissed. Fucked.

  I thanked the creator for small favors and searched for a man certain to be here, the giant soldier, the captain of the woodland guard. He’d taken control of the woman who’d laid her hand on Dorian at the last masquerade. He may be as close to a royal as I could get without Dorian.

  I gazed around the room and looked for my lover. I hoped it would be so simple. Enter the masquerade and find him at once.

  It would hurt to find him here, readying himself to take another woman, but I needed to stay strong.

  My heart clutched when I did not see him, and not because my task would be more difficult. Some small, naïve part of my heart danced with joy, hoping he stayed well away from this place. I dreamed that he could not yet bear the thought of touching another, that he desired only me.

  I did not see Dorian. And so I looked again, inspecting each well-muscled warrior, plump serving girl, and beautiful maiden who might later enjoy his sharp hand on her bottom, his kiss, his huge cock filling them.

  The women tempted the men, ready to play, but it was early yet, the stoic men refused to respond to their teasing.

  There!

  Leaning against the rock wall stood the captain, just the man I sought.

  I looked straight at him and walked, calm but deliberate, to stand before him. His gaze drifted over me from head to toe and I realized he believed I approached to offer myself to him.

  “Captain, I need your help. It’s urgent.”

  The bemused expression and interest I saw in his gaze sharpened to one of annoyance. “Don’t call me Captain. Not in here.”

  Desperate, I shook my head and reached for his arm, but curled my fingers and dropped my hand to my side when I saw his frown. “I’m sorry. I realize this is not a good time, but I need your help. Can we speak in private? Please.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  I turned my head from side to side and counted several curious stares following every move I made. Too many people were listening. I returned my gaze to his and tried to place every bit of stubborn determination into my eyes. “Not here. It’s too dangerous.”

  That earned me a raised brow, but he nodded and walked to the far end of the dungeon, to the corner where Dorian had first made me his. He stopped and I stood before him, facing away from the others.

  “Well?”

  With a quick look over my shoulder, I made sure nobody followed us or lingered close enough to eavesdrop. Turning to the captain, I took a deep breath and marshalled my courage. “I need you to find the Prince’s valet for me. I must speak with him, but I can’t enter the castle.” As I paused, a chanced a glance at my disheveled appearance. I wore riding clothes covered with chicken feathers and hay, mud-caked riding boots, and had filthy hands smudged with saddle oil and horse, and realized that was why everyone stared. What a terrible display, but I refused to turn away. “Please. It’s urgent.”

  He crossed his arms and looked me over, making his own assessment. “I don’t think so, miss. I saw you with him at the last two masquerades. If he wanted a third tryst, he would be here himself.”

  With a sigh, I shook my head. “No. He’s not expecting me. We agreed never to see each other again. But I have to warn him.”

  “Warn him?”

  My heart raced and I placed my hand on his arm and begged. “Please. I can’t tell you, but I must speak with him.”

  “About what? I can’t go waltzing through the castle to tell him some pretty lady in filthy dress and no mask is demanding to see him.”

  Frustrated to the point of tears, I tried to calm my breathing. “Please. Trust me. Or an innocent man will be murdered tonight.”

  He watched me for long minutes, the silence between us heavy, as though a horse sat on my chest. But I refused to relent. I needed his help.

  True to the other dominants I’d met, he watched me with a focused concentration that would have made me squirm with desire if I were here for another reason.

  And not already in love with Dorian.

  “Please, Captain. Please.”

  “Wait here.” With a nod, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the tunnels that led back to the castle.

  I waited. I paced, my boots loud in my ears. The dungeon masquerade resumed as if I had never interrupted their play. Soft feminine cries of pleasure filled my ears. Dark promises and demands echoed off the hard, stone walls. The clink of iron chains sliding over wood and stone, of wet, carnal fucking, filled the chamber until I thought I might choke on it.

  And yet, I remained calm, not tempted by a quickening of desire, no interest in my sensual surrounds. My singular thought was to see my Dorian one last time, and warn him of the plot to kill the prince.

  I would warn him, kiss him one last time, and run.

  I needed to get home, to leave this place before my evil stepmother returned home from the masquerade ball.

  Time stopped moving, as if I paced in place for hours. Yet only minutes had passed when the captain returned.

  The thick thud of his boots alerted me to his return moments before he rounded the corner and emerged from the tunnels. Behind him followed a man I recognized well, his broad shoulders and black mask all too familiar.

  As if released from paralysis, I ran for Dorian and threw myself in his arms.

  He caught me and his arms wrapped around me, offering safety and comfort. The fragile hold I maintained over my emotions unraveled. He smelled different tonight, his usual rich, spicy scent more rugged, like woodlands and coffee, but I didn’t care. He held me, and he would help.

  “Thank you! I was afraid you wouldn’t come.” My words were more blubbered than intelligent speech. He lowered me to my feet.

  “You asked for me, my lady?”

  His question registered and I froze in place, then pushed away. The voice. What was wrong with his voice? When I had enough room to look up at his mask, I didn’t see his face, had never seen his face. But his eyes. Heaven help me, his eyes.

  Not blue-gray, just blue. Nearly the same, except the dark flecks were missing. As was the cool band of dark gray around the edges.

  I’d stared into Dorian’s eyes as he fucked me, as I came with him deep inside me. I would recognize those eyes anywhere. And this man was not my Dorian.

  CHAPTER 10

  ELLA

  “M y lady?” he repeated as I continued to stare.

  He was beautiful and tall. His face almost identical, the lips not as thick, the lines of his jaw close, but not right. I’d traced Dorian’s jaw with my kisses, nibbled on his lips until I nearly died with pleasure.

  This man was not my Dorian.

  Oh, the clothes were the same. Well did I recognize the soft black fabric, the black feathered mask. But before me stood an imposter, not my lover, not the man I trusted.

  And he did not appear to recognize me at all.

  “You’re not the prince’s valet.”

  He smirked at the captain, who grunted and shrugged his shoulders as if to distance himself from my insanity. “I most certainly am. How can I help you?”

  I shook my head and put my hand out to keep him at bay as I backed away. “No. I was looking for Dorian. I’m sorry. Where’s Dorian?”

  “I know Dorian well. Perhaps I can help, if you’ll tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I can’t.” I would not trust such a volatile secret to this stranger. The Grand Duke, powerful and well connected in the kingdom, may be allied with the Captain or this mysterious valet. Court intrigue exhausted me and I never desired to explore its deceitful depths, but if my stepmother would plot to kill a royal, the servant's venom may well be just as potent in this viper’s pit.

  If even the servants lied, did my Dorian lie as well?

  I turned on
my heel and ran. Hard. Fast. Until I reached the outside air and vaulted onto Henry’s back.

  They gave chase, but I kicked Henry in the flank and watched them both come to a halt just outside the dungeon door. The captain looked to the valet, who shook his head.

  They let me go, but I was not free. Not yet.

  If Dorian had lied about his identity, then who was he? Where was he? My thoughts made my stomach churn as I raced home, unwilling to believe he had faked his passion, deceived me. But why would he lie, sneak me into the palace and worship my body for hours?

  I had slept in his bed, wrapped in his arms, lying in sheets softer than rose petals.

  He must be a servant in the castle, perhaps not the prince’s valet but maybe a tutor in language or mathematics. The royal tailor? Or perhaps something less prestigious, like the prince’s personal shiner of shoes? Surely the smug royals employed a personal shoe shiner.

  There could be a hundred different reasons Dorian had failed to reveal the truth, but none of them mattered now.

  Without Dorian to help, I would have to warn the Prince myself.

  DORIAN

  “Well, son, quite the bounty laid out for us this evening.” My father nudged me with his elbow and chuckled over the crescendo of clinking wine and ale glasses. The din of giggling women mixed with the cadence of a string quartet playing a waltz.

  I’d not asked a single masked maiden to dance, nor did I plan to.

  Without Ella, I would settle for the princess Bellamira, as my father insisted. An illicit orgy of kissing and fucking welled from the shadowed recesses of the ballroom, yet I remained unaffected, my cock lying flaccid in my trousers. None of these women interested me, or my cock. My only desire was for Ella.

  “I believe I shall save myself for my bride, father.” I lifted my glass of wine in mock salute and leaned my back against the marble pillar nearest his right hand. He sat, as usual, upon his throne. At twice my height and made of solid marble inlaid with gold, the monstrosity guaranteed any reasonable man’s ass would hurt after about ten minutes. My father rested his royal ass atop at least a half dozen, bright red pillows.

  “Ah, yes. The lovely princess Bellamira. She should have arrived by now.” A hint of worry crept into his tone as his gaze drifted over the lords and ladies in the giant ballroom. I guessed that least two hundred attended, each lady’s gown lovelier than the last, each mask more elaborate or daring, each pair of lips a darker shade of rose.

  All wasted effort. I longed for golden hair, soft, pink lips untouched by stain, and blue eyes shining not with guile or calculation, but desire. Trust. Longing.

  “Perhaps the princess changed her mind.” The thought cheered me somewhat, until I realized my Ella would marry another and leave me in exile with the devious, scheming mothers in this room, all eager to make their daughter the next queen.

  “Oh, no. I think not. Her father’s acceptance of my terms arrived by special messenger this morning.”

  “Then where is the princess?”

  “I don’t know, son. If she doesn’t arrive tonight, our best scouts will leave at dawn. They will scour the woods until they find her and her escort. Her father’s note stated that she travels with twenty guards.”

  “Twenty is not enough. Not to travel through the northern wood.”

  My father agreed. “Well, the cranky bastard didn’t consult me.”

  “She’s probably dead already. There was a full moon two nights past.” I sipped on my wine. “If the werewolves didn’t kill them, the others likely did.” Her father must be a stupid man. If I sent a daughter of mine through those woods, no less than fifty skilled knights would escort her. And never under a full moon.

  The king stood and a buzz of excited feminine voices skittered around the room. “Let’s hope not, son. Or you’ll be marrying one of these lovely ladies.” He patted me on the shoulder and held out his empty glass. A servant scrambled to take it from his hand and disappeared behind a large potted plant.

  I watched him enter the fray, the ladies swarming to him like bees to honey. He would have his choice of willing partners tonight, probably taking more than one.

  In the past, I had joined him, young and full of arrogance, eager to put my newly discovered sexual prowess to use. I’d not yet met a teenage boy who was not impatient to sink his cock into a warm, wet female.

  But after being with Ella, I saw the spectacle before me with new eyes. Wealthy, noble families doing nothing but fucking and scheming, every thrust of a dominant man’s hips, every soft cry of submission from a woman meant to either entice or manipulate.

  Honest emotion did not exist in this room, and I had grown weary of games.

  Perhaps the princess would change that.

  No, Ella already had.

  Resigned to long hours of warding off eager females, I walked into the crowd and entered the fray. I would smile and shake hands, dance and listen to both old men’s schemes and females’ enticements, but I would not betray my Ella with another woman, not tonight. Tonight, my heart still ached, her trusting eyes were too vivid a memory. The memory of her wet heat, her gentle submission as her pussy wrapped around my cock, was too precious and perfect to surrender.

  ELLA

  I entered the yard atop Henry at a full gallop and pulled hard on the reins. He stopped with hard hooves mere inches from Gregory’s booted feet.

  “Mistress, what are you doing back so soon? Were you able to warn the prince’s valet?”

  “No.” I hopped to the ground and paced in agitation as Gregory led Henry around in circles, cooling him down.

  “Why not?”

  I struggled to fight back tears and turned away so Gregory would not see the telltale glistening as they slid like fire down my cheeks. “He wasn’t there.”

  Gregory’s sigh sounded a hundred years old, and as heavy as my heart. “Well, what are you going to do? Henry should rest before you ride for the coast. I think you can wait an hour or two. Your stepmother won’t notice you’re gone until she wakes without breakfast.”

  I wiped the tears from my cheeks and faced him, an idea forming in my mind. “Which won’t be until well into the afternoon.”

  Gregory grunted in agreement.

  “I have to go back. I can’t let them kill the prince.”

  “You tried, Ella. You tried. Now, get the hell out of here and let these scheming bastards fend for themselves.”

  Oh, how I wished I could, but my heart wouldn’t allow it. “I won’t be able to live with myself, Gregory. I have to try.”

  “Damn soft women. You’re just like your mother.”

  Heat spread in my chest at his words and I smiled. “Thank you. I know you loved her and my father.”

  “Gave my word I’d look after you, and I have.” He patted Henry on the neck and led him to water. “You’re the only reason I’m still working for that vile creature who calls herself your mother.”

  “I know that.” I stepped forward and wrapped my arm through his, leaning my head on his shoulder. “Thank you. But after tonight, you’ll be free to leave. Why don’t you come with me?”

  He shook his head, his crinkled old eyes looking down on me with a love I’d recognized for years. Because I lost my father at such a young age, Henry had acted as a father figure for longer than my own. “Not yet. I have plans, child. And I won’t leave Persephone behind.”

  I nodded in understanding. Persephone, our upstairs maid, had served the family as long as Gregory, and loved him dearly. “I understand. She needs you.” I lifted my head and stepped back. “And the prince needs me.”

  “What’s your plan?”

  I looked up at the darkened windows of the house, cataloguing every one of my stepsisters’ gowns in my mind. “I will change into one of Tabitha’s gowns, put on a white mask, and go to the royal masquerade.”

  “You’re insane, child. They’ll catch you.”

  A fire burned within me and I straightened my shoulders. As of tonight, I was no longe
r my stepmother’s slave. From this moment on, I was free to make my own choices, including saving an innocent man’s life. “No, they won’t. I’ll find the prince, deliver my message, and disappear.”

  “You make it sound so simple.”

  I wrapped my arms around myself as my torso chilled, and lied, so we would both believe. “It is simple.”

  Gregory’s silence was long, but he, too, would be incapable of allowing an innocent to die. “All right, girl. But if you go, you’re not going in your stepsister’s rags.”

  “I have nothing else to wear.”

  “Yes, you do.” He motioned for me to follow him to the barn, which I did. Several lamps lighted the interior, and there, next to the bags I’d packed earlier, sat a small trunk I’d never seen before. Gregory knelt before it and lifted the lid with slow, steady hands, as if its contents were fragile. “These belonged to your mother, child. I hid them when she passed, kept them safe all these years.”

  I reached into the trunk and pulled a long, elegant gown from its resting place. A gown the palest of blues, as if lit with a thousand sparkling diamonds no larger than a grain of sand. It sparkled and glowed in the light of the lamps.

  Trembling, I lifted a hand to touch the glittering cloth but stopped when I saw the dirt beneath my fingernails, the smear of horsehair on my forearm. “I can’t wear that.”

  “You can, and you will.” He set it aside and reached into the bottom of the trunk to pull forth a pair of shoes that looked made of spun glass. “Your mother got married in this dress. Her eyes were the same color as yours, a blue so pure and true, it was like staring into sapphires. Your mother loved you, and she wanted you to have it.”

  I stared, rooted to the spot until someone cleared their throat behind me. I turned to find the cook, the downstairs maid and Persephone lined up and waiting behind me, their dark silhouettes outlined in the open barn door. Persephone smiled, her lined face warmer than the sun on my cheeks. “Can we help with anything, Gregory?”