London!

by Terri Pray

  She didn't want to react to the pain, or the confines of the tight clothing but both had another affect on her body. She squirmed on her heels, pressing her thighs tightly together beneath the dress. Did he know that her body thought this a lead up to something else?

  The past months of training had given her no other way to react to the mixture of bondage and pain but the one she now endured. Her inner walls rippled, the heat building along them as she forced her gaze to remain lowered to the floor.

  Did he know?

  Could he see the way her nipples now hardened and pressed against the clothing? The corset barely hid them and one bone lay directly over her tight, ripe buds. Even a small breath would cause the edge of the corset to rub over them

  God, was she damned now? Even clothing could be used against her.

  “It's hard to breath, master.”

  “You'll become used to that, my girl.”

  She nodded and tried to believe that it would become easier at the same time.

  “Most women take a little time getting used to wearing them.”

  That she could well imagine. It wasn't as though they were born with the skill. Still she had some time to practice with them, and he wasn't going to be cruel and make her wear it on the journey to London.

  “Up, strip and return to our room. We have much to attend to before we leave on the morrow and we will be leaving early. Before dawn would be best, it's a long trip ahead of us.”

  Dawn, so soon? Even though she had been aware they would leave early she had hoped for a little more in the way of rest before traveling. But a single glance up at Davien let her know that arguments would be a foolish waste of energy and at best would only add to the welts on her back.

  “Is that clear my slave?”

  “Perfectly, master.” London, balls, men and women who didn't know she was a slave. People who might look on her with envy instead of pity or hatred, places she had never seen before and a chance to forget, even for a moment, that she was his slave. Dressed in fine gowns, eating good food, drinking wine and sharing conversation she might even be able to pretend that she was something more to him.

  Something special.

  Even something loved...

  CHAPTER IV

  The day had passed in a blur and before she had even truly been aware of it she had found herself curled up in the blankets on the bottom of the familiar cage, staring at the dying coals in the fireplace. Sleep had been an elusive companion through the night but she had been able to rest enough that she would not look as if she were a member of the walking dead when her master awoke.

  Davien. How long would she be calling him master?

  Perhaps for the rest of her life? There was no way of telling and false hope was never a good idea. He could be rid of her tomorrow, but it was unlikely. In fact with the interest he had shown in her she was no doubt cursed to be his companion until the end of her days.

  Was that truly such a terrible fate?

  She twisted in the cage and looked up at the sleeping form on the bed.

  He had his good side, his decent side and he did take care of her in his own way. He didn't demand she become pregnant and bear him an heir, or whelp a dozen children the way most farmers now did. She didn't go hungry, or cold most of the time unless he was teaching her a lesson.

  When he was done playing with her he at least tended the hurts and in all honesty given the temperaments of many of the men she had grown up with, waking up bruised wasn't that uncommon for a woman. Too much whiskey or beer and fists could fly, though many of the women were capable of defending themselves and did so with a skill she now envied.

  What was she thinking.

  Davien was cruel, cold and heartless.

  He cared nothing for her own dreams, or hopes. She was a body he could use at his whim, so why did she feel something towards him?

  Sick, that's what it was, she'd become sick from being around him, yet when he touched the side of her face, or told her she had done well, her heart sang. A part of her craved those good moments, the brief times when he praised her for how well she had taken the beating, or how swiftly she had obeyed him.

  Her stomach knotted as she turned away from him in the cage and tried to focus on the glowing coals instead.

  He wasn't a man, he was a beast, a brutal creature, someone she had to find a way to escape before he decided to kill her with his sick games, or as punishment for something she had failed to do.

  “Celeste.” His voice game as a low sleep claimed moan. “Mine.”

  She pressed her eyes closed as his unseen hand of ice wrapped about her heart. He wanted her, needed her enough to call out her name in his sleep. He craved her presence in his life even if he refused to give life to the sweet words of love that she prayed would one day fall from his lips.

  No, god, no. I don't love him. I can't. He's nothing but a monster.

  Why couldn't she be in love with him? She always knew where she stood with him. There were no lies, no sweet words one minute, then hateful the next, no husband to stumble in too full of whiskey to care where the blows landed.

  She grabbed the blanket and wrapped it tightly about her now shaking form. She didn't need him or want him, yet she couldn't deny how she felt hearing her name like that? Or the way her heart had threatened to tear in two when she thought he might be killed. No matter what lies she tried to tell herself her heart knew the truth. For better or worse she loved him.

  This man, this monster, this master who had taught her the meaning of pain and pleasure combined. This beast who had stolen her from hearth and home, this devil that she wanted to run from also held the power to call her to his bed and she would have crawled there with a willing heart if it meant one moment in his arms with the knowledge she had pleased him.

  * * * *

  “Quickly now my girl.”

  “Yes, master.” Celeste murmured and pulled herself up into the carriage. After so long naked, walking in the long skirts felt awkward at best and would take some getting used to.

  “We need to be off before the sun rises.” Davien leaned back in the coach, resting against the leather covered seat. “We have many miles to travel before the end of the day.”

  How long it would take for them to reach London she couldn't be sure of but there had been a vague mention of one night at the house of a friend. The journey from the port to Davien's home when he had brought her here from Ireland had been something of a blur and with the passage of time she could recall only brief images. Those had been less than helpful as she had no idea if they had come in from London or another port.

  Celeste frowned slightly as she settled in next to her master. They couldn't have come in via London, not with the routes across from Ireland. Liverpool was a far more likely suspect but he had not seen fit to fill her in on just what had happened.

  “Something the matter?”

  “No, master. I was just thinking about the trip here.”

  “And trying to decide how long it will take to reach London?”

  She nodded slightly as she smoothed down her skirts.

  “Two days if the horses are pushed, three would be a safer bet. Perhaps as many as four depending on the weather and how late we stay at Lord Malcolm's. He is well known to be a generous host and it would be best not to insult him. So three days is a reasonably safe bet when all things have been considered.”

  Three or four days of travel? It hadn't been that long at all when they had traveled in from the port, had it? Unless he had drugged her and she truly had no clue of the realistic traveling time.

  “It's not something you need to be concerned about.” He tapped the inside of the coach with the cane. “Time we were off.” He called out to the men at the reigns.

  “At once M'lord.”

  * * * *

  Another jolt jerked her awake from the half doze she had fallen into. Potholes and fallen trees had combined with a persistent rain to slow them down to a near crawl at times. Davien ha
dn't spoke for much of the trip and like Celeste had tried to rest where he could. But now the potholes had simply become too much for her.

  She stared out into the darkness, blinking at the soft drizzle that filtered past the curtains. No glass in the coach, not unusual, too easy to break on the long hauls. Still the heavy curtains normally kept the rain and wind out. The only reason she felt the rain against her face now was because she had pulled them back a little in order to stare into the night.

  Had they really been traveling this long already?

  There had been a brief stop for a meal at an Inn. That had been odd. She'd been treated as an equal by Davien during that stop, but there had been the warning before they had pulled in for her not to do anything that would shame him. A warning accompanied by a tight grip on the back of neck and a nod towards the two men who took turns in driving the coach.

  In the Inn she had been waited on shamelessly and had, much to her own discomfort now she looked back on it, enjoyed it. The mask of ice Davien wanted her to learn to use had settled over her features with effortless grace.

  What had they thought of her?

  That she was some Lord's rich spoiled bitch? An Irish whore raised above her station?

  She needed to learn how to hide her accent a little better but she knew it would take time. At least with the length of the trip she had the chance to practice that. It wouldn't be perfect by the time they arrived in London but she'd at least be able to show him that she was trying to obey him, to please him and that was sometimes all it took to keep him from being upset with her.

  Upset, that was a mild way of putting it.

  A slight smile tugged at her full lips. Her entire viewpoint on life had been changed by the man she now traveled with. Upset and punishment almost meant the same thing now. Punishment normally meant pain, often humiliation and seldom gave her a chance to wriggle free from it.

  “Rest. We still have many miles to travel.”

  “Yes, master.” She tugged the curtains closed and leaned back in the seat. With her traveling coat wrapped about her body she tried to pillow her head on her arms as she closed her eyes once more.

  * * * *

  Warmth, the comfort of an arm about her shoulder as she was drawn against the body of another human being. The familiar scent of leather and soap filled her nostrils and she knew, somewhere still in the back of her sleepy mind she still knew that the man who held her was Davien Blood.

  Why would he hold her like this?

  He was asleep as well, not thinking about how she might react to this moment of kindness and she wasn't about to wake him up or draw attention to the situation.

  Her heart sang as she cuddled up to him in the back of the coach, she drew in his smell, the feel of his body against hers, the touch of his arm in the darkness as his hand reached down to cup her covered breast.

  He growled softly against her ear, his grasp harsh for a moment, enough to force a low gasp of pain into life, then he relaxed and simply pulled her closer.

  She bit back a sob, the need to know that this was more than a passing moment threatened to grow out of control.

  No questions. No spoiling the moment. It would end soon enough and for now she could simply enjoy it and forget that this wasn't the Davien she would normally see.

  With tears spilling down her cheeks she nestled against him and let the combination of his heartbeat and the shared warmth pull her back into the darkness of sleep.

  CHAPTER V

  “Davien, dear boy it's been an age since you came this way. Come in, come in and find yourself some warmth at the fire.” With silvered hair and a pair of merry hazel eyes the slightly rotund man beckoned them both within. “You will of course stay over night, say you will old man. I've a decent meal ready for you and your good lady.”

  “We will Malcolm but she's not my wife.” Davien nodded curtly towards Celeste as she hurried in after him. Two days in the coach and her bones protested every breath now. Even without the welts that ached with each breath she took she'd have felt the battering that traveling in the coach had provided.

  “Well now, there's a bit of good news. So you won't mind if I steal the gal away from you. Maybe find myself a sweet piece for my silver years?”

  “You know me better than that.” Davien smiled, his tone far more friendly than Celeste had hear from him before. “Celeste, strip and kneel.”

  “Ah and here I was hoping you'd found yourself a proper gal instead of another toy. Still she seems to be a sweet young thing.” Lord Malcolm took a step back, his gaze narrowing the tiny lines around his now sharp eyes crinkled as he focused his attention on Celeste.

  Her jaw tightened slightly but she caught the reaction in time and forced the discomfort from her face. Without a sound she stripped off her gloves and boots first then reached for the buttons on her traveling coat. He'd almost fooled her into believing that the man was a good sort, the type she would enjoy visiting with, but she should have known better.

  “How long has she been with you now?” the older man inquired, though his gaze never left Celeste.

  “A little under six months.”

  Had it been that long already? She tried to go over the weeks since she had been dragged away from Ireland but one blurred into the next as she set her coat down on the nearby chair.

  “And she is already this well trained? My hats off to you Davien, your father would have been... ”

  “We won't discuss my father,” Davien snapped.

  “Indeed, my apologies old chap. Another time perhaps. Well now lets go get that dinner.”

  “Celeste, you may remain dressed.”

  She pulled back from the buttons she had already begun to open. Not undressing did not give her the right to redress, oh she wasn't foolish enough to fall for that one. Instead she let her hands rest at her sides as she lowered her gaze demurely.

  “Yes, very well trained indeed. Maybe I'll find a reason to follow you into London so I can see what else the gal is able to do. Knowing you she's learned well how to please a man on her knees.”

  Celeste focused on the floor. Blushing would have given them both just too much credit. They weren't there, they didn't exist beyond the orders she could be given. If she used this as a chance to focus on the ice he had reminded her existed in her being then it would serve her in good stead for the rest of the trip.

  “I see no reason why you would need to wait until London. Perhaps after dinner?”

  “Now that I might well take you up on. Can't fool around with the local gals, just too much trouble. I can pull it off when I'm visiting other areas but what is it your grandfather said, never piss in your own river.”

  “He had the right idea.” Davien gestured for her to follow as he turned and walked with the older man towards a set of double doors. “If you have the locals up in arms then you're only making trouble for yourself in the long term. Once or twice is workable, more than that and it's a fast way of ending up with a bullet in your back.”

  “Pity some of the younger ones haven't learned that lesson.”

  “Some of those families would do us all a favor by dying off, the sooner the better.”

  “Perhaps this unpleasant little business in France will help there.”

  She frowned and hurried after them, eager to learn what had been going on outside of the boundaries of Davien's estate.

  “Napoleon?”

  “Indeed, the call to arms has already gone out. Won't be long before we're sending troops out. Well some have already found their way out there. Minor skirmishes right now but it could become nasty. And we're not dealing with the Maharajahs here, old boy. These are civilized men, ones that understand warfare. Not tribes answering to some local king. The French have decent supply lines.”

  “How bad is it?” Davien settled down into a chair by the side of the fire and gestured to a large pillow that had been thrown down close by. Without a word she knelt on the pillow, arranging her skirts about her legs.

&n
bsp; “Not too bad yet, but you know how quickly things can blow up. They say he's already looking at Spain with hungry eyes and if that happens, well we can't let him do that can we?”

  “No.”

  “Will you go?”

  “To war? I doubt it, I never did like answering to other people's orders.”

  “Not the guts and glory type eh?”

  “There's no glory in dying from a bullet in the gut from a Frenchman. Or a spear in some distant land. I've no interest in it. You know me, I'd never obey some stuffed shirt who managed to buy his commission ahead of me. Not how it works.”

  Malcolm settled down into the other chair. “Well not many of your age have that level of sense. It's all gold, glory and they never think about the death that goes with it. You would have thought some might have learned from the tales that came back from India but we breed a stubborn and often pig headed lot over here.”

  “And that's exactly the type that the army want. Not my game.”

  “So just what is taking you to London?”

  “Some business mainly. Also it does the fops good to see me there every now and then. Allows them to see that there are other types of human beings on the planet. Besides it amuses me to see their women cling to them one minute then all but throw themselves at me the next.”

  “You do offer them a challenge. Lord Davien Blood, the King of Ice and broken hearts. One might think you do it to taunt them.”

  “I do. They're weak willed for the most part and could never handle the type of pleasures I enjoy. Yet they flirt and play the game, then at the first hint of darkness they run back to their gentlemen.”

  “Forever dreaming of that one moment with you?”

  “I would not be so conceited to suggest that.”

  She glanced up at him and shuddered. The smile on his face said it all. Women were toys to him, always would be. It didn't matter if they were free, married, single, a widow with young children, they were all nothing more than toys for his pleasure. He did more than enjoy the game with them, he relished it.