by Juniper Bell
“Will you now?” He’d snatched something from his desk, I couldn’t even see what, and stalked toward me. I was so caught up in my passionate rantings that I barely noticed when he drew back his hand. “What if no man will have you?” And then came a dark blur, a sharp rush of wind, a terrible burn and shocking, shocking pain sweeping me into blackness.
Chapter Five
Sweetbriar—The Countess’s Bedchamber—a few nights later
The Duke and the Marquis stretched next to the Countess, one on each side of her. Her wrists were tied above her head, the ribbon fastened to one of the four posters. They all sprawled diagonally across the bed in a tangle of perspiration and bare flesh. Flickering candlelight filled the room. A wisp of smoke drifted through the air; one candle had been snuffed out by a rush of wind generated by their thrashing.
The Marquis knew his way around both his lovers’ bodies so well. He knew what that flush across the Countess’ bosom meant. He tightened his teeth around her nipple.
“Lord, Gerard,” she gasped.
“I have a gift for you.”
“Do you?” At the juncture of her thighs, the Duke raked his fingernails up her inner thigh. She pushed frantic hips toward him. “My love, you torment me.”
“And you adore it,” murmured the Duke from between her thighs. With a diabolical look in his green eyes, he swiped his tongue across her clit, a long lick that made even the Marquis shudder.
Alicia mewled and bucked as the Duke took her clit between his lips.
The Marquis continued, “You’ve been pleading my case well. I’m grateful.”
He reached toward the small table next to the bed and retrieved a velvet box. When he opened it, two small jewels winked from a bed of sapphire velvet.
“Put that away,” said Alicia, suddenly stiff with outrage. “I’m not your procuress.” She tugged her hands against the ribbon that secured them. “How dare you?”
The Marquis assumed his most domineering voice, the one he knew made Alicia melt in his arms. “I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter. These are yours. They suit no one else in the world and when I saw them I thought of you.”
“They’re earrings that any woman could wear. I don’t want them. I’ll toss them away or give them to my maid.”
“Later, you can do whatever you want with them. But for now, they go onto your body. Hold still.”
She twisted her upper body back and forth, the motion making her breasts bounce most delightfully.
The Duke lifted his head and asked a silent question of the Marquis, who gave him a secret wink. A game, just a game. One they all knew and enjoyed.
“Are you ready to accept your gift like a proper young lady, Countess?”
“Keep those things away from me.”
“Must I restrain you even further?”
The suggestion made her panting increase and brought a deeper flush to her cheeks.
The Marquis reached to the floor, where his dressing gown had slid off his body. He found the silk belt and wrapped most of it around his wrist. “But first, you must be chastised for your inappropriate display.” He snapped the end of the belt against one breast, noticing how lovely the garnet silk looked against her snowy skin. Her nipple swelled as blood rushed to the surface. She moaned and muttered something he couldn’t hear.
He swatted the other nipple until it too reared proudly on her heaving chest, swollen and erect and ready for his mouth. What would Miranda’s nipples look like? Would they be small, tender, pink things, little maidenly buttons? Or would they be dark and erotic, maybe the same garnet hue of this silk belt? Every time he saw her, he fought the urge to swing her up against the nearest wall and pull down the bodice of that new pink gown she’d taken to wearing. Oh if he had Miranda under his body, the things he’d do to her…
He willed all thoughts of her away.
He applied his tongue to one of Alicia’s straining nipples and surrounded the other with the silk belt, soothing and teasing. So hard, so responsive, so juicy. So ready.
“Now for your gift.”
Alicia gave one last spasm of protest, but she was too far gone to be more than vaguely aware of what he was doing. He took the two jewels from the box and cupped them in his hand.
“A small token of my obsession, my dear.” He never spoke the word love, at least, not in English. Carefully, he fastened one clip to her right nipple. It was a small bronze ring that surrounded the nipple and gently squeezed it, leaving the very peak of the nipple available for his touch. As he clicked the fastening closed, Alicia let out a long, ragged cry.
“It’s too much, Gerard, oh I can’t bear it, please…”
But she didn’t use the one word they’d all agreed on. She didn’t say “plaisir”, the manor house where they’d formed their precious bond.
So he attached the second ring and brushed his fingers against the soft tips of flesh that peeked through the metal. They really were lovely objects, with a wave pattern worked into the bronze. He’d found them in a curio shop and had instantly pictured Miranda… No, Alicia, he told himself. He should not be thinking of the innocent Miranda in such a way.
The Duke pushed him aside and poised his massive cock between Alicia’s spread thighs. “Your mind wandering, Gerard?” he muttered.
The Marquis rolled off the bed and watched the Duke bury his pulsing rod into his true love’s body. Alicia arched to meet him, the colossal orgasm shaking her body. He smiled, satisfied with the culmination of the desire he’d stoked. And, oddly, for the first time he was aware of—lonely. No matter what else came before, no matter what the three, and occasionally four of them did together in bed, in the end it was always the Duke of Warrington and Lady Alicia Dorchester, wife of his heir, mother of his child.
His rod, still fully aroused, bobbed before him, but he knew it would get no satisfaction tonight. He had no appetite for bedsport unless it involved Miranda, naked and wicked. She’d come to him in the night, draw him into her embrace, offer him her breasts, kneel at his feet, lick his cock, open her throat for him… Give herself to him in every possible way. And he’d take everything she offered and more. He put his hand to his cock, eyes closing to better conjure the image.
Just then a frantic pounding at the door startled them all. The Duke barely had time to pull the bedcovers over Alicia before the door burst open. Miranda, wearing a plain white nightrail, stood in the doorway, pale, her hair a brown tumble down her back. Her gaze skittered from one to the other of them, landing on the Marquis’ pulsing rod. For a moment he thought she might faint. Then she visibly composed herself.
“Milady, you must come. The baby has red spots all over her, and I cannot wake Graham. Someone must summon a doctor.”
With utmost dignity, Alicia said, “We’ll take care of it, my dear. We’ve encountered this before, it’s no doubt a harmless rash. Give us a moment, please.”
Miranda whirled around and fled down the dark hallway. Without thought, the Marquis grabbed a towel from the nightstand and ran after her.
I’m sure you can imagine my shock. But can you imagine the heady, tingling arousal that accompanied it? Images of the sensual tableau I’d witnessed in milady’s bedchamber chased me down the hallway along with hurried footsteps and muffled curses. I increased my pace, but by this time I recognized those steps.
When I reached the staircase, I ran past it to the cozy sitting room tucked next to the marble staircase. Perhaps the Marquis would continue up the stairs or out the front door. I cared not. I curled up on a chintz-covered loveseat, ducking down so no one would notice me from the doorway. Through the doors that led to the terrace, shafts of moonlight cast silvery shapes upon the polished floor. Surely I’d be safe here.
But, as I should have predicted, he was not so easily deterred.
“Miranda,” his roughened voice barked from the doorway. “Of all things, I know you to be no coward.”
I bit my lip. I wouldn’t let him goad me into revealing myself, though
the words stung.
“Very well.” With an impatient oath, he stalked after me. Perhaps he followed a scent, like a hunting dog. In a moment he was upon me, bracing his hands on the back of the loveseat and looming over me, still naked but for a cloth tucked around his waist. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
I turned my face away. His nearness was almost unbearable. The moonlight picked out dips and ridges in the muscles of his bare chest. Sinewy and powerful, he could have been a vision from a maiden’s fever dream. The scent of lust and lavender clung to his skin. Lavender from milady’s sachets? The thought bolstered my courage. “You’re wicked.”
“We were all there of our own choice.”
“You’re dissolute!”
“I enjoy my pleasures.”
“You’re a rake!”
“Not for years.”
“You’re… You’re…repulsive.” I winced. No matter his actions, he was a nobleman far above a lowly nursemaid.
“And you’re a liar.”
The firm declaration made me swing my head to face him. “How dare you?”
“Look me in the eye and tell me you were repulsed by what you saw,” he commanded.
I gazed at those dark, compelling eyes and opened my mouth. Nothing came forth. Tingles spread through me, bringing my nipples to hard peaks. “I…I…”
“You were aroused. Excited. I see it still on your face. The centers of your eyes are dark. Your cheeks are flushed. Your pulse is quickening, right there, on your lovely throat.”
His gaze drifted to my neck. I tried to swallow, but there seemed to be some sort of constriction in my throat. I coughed to clear it.
“No,” I said weakly. “You’re the devil.”
“Oh I’m very much human. If you dared to look at me for more than a second at a time, you’d see just how human.”
A dare. How did he know I could never resist a dare? The word brought me back to the happy days of my childhood, when the village children and I would dare each other to climb a tree, dip in the creek or race across a field of poppies. I sat upright, startling him, and boldly looked him up and down, taking care to linger on the prominent lump under his makeshift loincloth. Was it my imagination or did the protrusion increase under my gaze? I remembered what it had looked like, proudly rearing into the air.
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t fool me, Miranda. You’re a minx. What color is your hair?” He touched it, sending a tiny earthquake of tremors through me.
“Brown, as you know very well.”
“What I know is that it’s anything but brown.” He curled his hand around my cheek. I couldn’t move for trembling. “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s strawberry blonde. Carefree gold mingled with wildcat red. And you hide with dutiful brown.”
I said nothing. He’d hit the mark fairly close; unsettlingly so.
“Why do you hide your true nature, lovely girl? I’m not referring to your identity. I know very well you aren’t Miranda Brown. You seek refuge in brown at every turn.”
I had to stop him, head him off. “Why do you care about my hair color? Maybe brown suits me best.”
“It does not. What would suit you would be to cast off this pretense of the dull and dutiful. Release your true desires. Your true needs.”
I surged from the chair and pushed past him. I couldn’t think straight when he was so close. “And turn into you? Indulging myself at every turn? Incapable of resisting temptation?”
He gave a dark laugh. “If I weren’t capable of resisting temptation, you’d be in my bed right now, your skirts over your head and my cock so deep in your quim you’d think you were split in two.”
The shock of his words rooted me to the spot.
“I won’t ever apologize for my desires or for how I slake them with my consenting lovers. I offer pleasure and I take what’s offered to me. The Duke and the Countess and I bring each other joy, comfort and sensual satisfaction most can only dream about. Are you so wedded to your chosen lot in life that you cannot allow yourself the same?”
“P-pardon?”
“Should you decide otherwise, know that I want you, Miss Miranda Anything-but-Brown. I burn for you. If you permit me—if you permit yourself—I’ll show you your true sensual nature, the part you can’t hide from such as me.”
He studied me so long and hard, I thought I might burst into flames. Then he turned away with a jerky movement, releasing me from his spell. “But I will never, ever force you as a more ‘dissolute’ man might. And certainly no one will force you to stay in this house if you’re uncomfortable here. I can help you find another position, one where you’ll be treated properly, with every consideration for your scruples.”
He stalked from the room, leaving me limp and utterly breathless.
* * * * *
Breakfast room—the next day
The Countess accepted a cup of coffee from a footman. She added three teaspoons of sugar and stirred until he’d left. The Duke busied himself at the sideboard, piling kippers and buttered toast onto a plate. She watched him, feasting her eyes on his powerful form and fine hands, seductive whether they were caressing her body or maneuvering small fish onto a plate.
When they were alone in the room, he seated himself next to her, put down his plate and took hold of her chin.
“Don’t you dare worry about this,” he told her firmly, fixing his deep-green eyes on her. “One way or another, we’ll be fine.”
She gave him a shaky smile. “It’s not us I’m worried about. It’s our dear Marquis. I fear his heart is quite taken over by the girl. If she leaves, he’ll be brokenhearted.”
“Surely it’s not gone that far.”
“I do believe it has. You saw the way he bolted out of the bedchamber last night. I’ve never seen him hurry in such a way for anyone else. Even for us.”
“He did seem quite thrown over by the incident.” The Duke released her and tackled his breakfast. “Poor sap.”
She scoffed. “You were just as much of a sap not so very long ago.”
“Guilty as charged.” He winked. “And not a single regret. Except, perhaps, that I was not wise enough to marry you first.”
She smiled wistfully over the rim of her teacup. “We’re very fortunate, let us never forget.”
A long moment of quiet, then he asked, “Have you visited the nursery yet this morning?”
“I stopped in earlier, but Rose was still asleep. The spots are nearly entirely gone. I do believe Graham is right, and we must be more careful with the laundering. I saw no sign of Miranda, but no sign she’d left.”
“She won’t leave,” declared the Marquis from the doorway.
“Why, you look positively disreputable!” Alicia exclaimed. “Did you not sleep at all?”
“Must I fire my valet? I told him to make me look like peaches and cream or his position would be forfeit.”
“Beau Brummel himself couldn’t make silk out of that sow’s ear,” said the Duke, gesturing at his friend.
The Marquis ambled in. Dark stubble studded his jaw and deep grooves marked his cheeks. “She won’t leave,” he repeated. “She can’t.”
“Of course she can. We’re not going to hold her hostage. She’s free to go. I’ll personally make sure she has enough coin to travel and find a new position.” Alicia set down her cup with a clink. “Did you chase her down only to quarrel with her?”
“Better. I tempted her.” He strolled to the sideboard and began lifting the covers of the various dishes. “If there isn’t a rebellious streak inside that girl, I don’t know the female gender. And you will both acknowledge that’s impossible.”
The Duke tilted his head. “Perhaps you don’t know this particular member of the female gender as well as you think you do.”
“I admit to some gaps in my knowledge, which I’m attempting to fill.” The Marquis gave him a sharp glance over his shoulder. “Have you discovered something?”
“You don’t think I’d let someone take care of my child
without thoroughly investigating her, do you?”
The Marquis abandoned the tongs mid-sausage selection and hurried to the table. “What did you learn?”
“Hold on. I respect her privacy. Why should I tell you her secrets?”
“Because I’ll jump across this table and throttle you if you don’t.”
Alicia gasped, but the Duke only gave her a rueful glance. “You had it right, my dear. He is indeed head over heels for her.”
The Marquis set his hands on the table and leaned over it with a snarl on his dark face. “I’m not in a mood to be toyed with.”
“Left…er, hanging last night, were you?”
Alicia put her hand on the Duke’s arm. “Don’t torment the poor man, dearest. If you know something you can reveal, please do so before he has an apoplexy.”
“Very well. I unearthed her family name. Her real family name.”
“And…” A vein throbbed in the Marquis’ forehead.
“You must promise to keep this information private, and not to use it to coerce her to stay or anything along those lines. If our ways are too outlandish for her, she’s free to go.”
“Yes, yes.”
“I have your solemn promise?”
“Warrington, I swear I will—”
“Hampton. Her family name is Hampton.”
“Hampton. But that’s one of England’s oldest names. There must be dozens of branches. Which one? Northumberland? Sussex? Is she any relation to the current Duke?”
“I’ve told you all I know. I swear it.”
The Marquis abandoned his breakfast and stalked to the French door that opened onto the terrace. He seemed blind to the climbing pink roses that tumbled over the terrace walls like curls over a maiden’s forehead. “I’ve never been so bedeviled by a girl in this manner. And I seem to have no hope of winning her trust. Alicia, what does she say of me? Merde, I sound like a schoolboy pining after a local beauty. And she’s scarred!”
