Sacrifice (Fashionably Impure Book 3)

by Natasha Blackthorne

  Sacrifice

  ©Copyright Natasha Blackthorne 2016

  Edited by Emily Heill

  Kindle Edition

  Cover Art and photo by The Killion Group, Inc. 2016

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form, including email or IM, without prior written permission from the author, Natasha Blackthorne, at n.blackthorne@yahoo.com.

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction, sharing, or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This e-book contains explicit erotic scenes and graphic sexual language. Some readers may consider such content offensive. It is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country and/or state where this e-book was purchased. Please store your files where minors cannot access them.

  DISCLAIMER: Natasha Blackthorne writes romantic fiction for entertainment purposes only. Please do not attempt to use this book as a “how-to” book for any topic. Her works are not meant to be guides or representations of modern BDSM practices or lifestyles. Please seek the guidance of an experienced practitioner and/or your personal physician before trying any new sexual practice. The author, Natasha Blackthorne, will not be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of her titles.

  Sacrifice

  By

  Natasha Blackthorne

  The Fashionably Impure Series, Book Three

  Chapter One

  The knocking seemed to sound within Adrian’s head. Instantly aware of the warm, lush body against his, he tightened his arm around the curvy waist.

  Miranda.

  He pressed his half-erect cock against the softness of her buttocks. The heaviness of fatigue in his limbs pulled him back into slumber…

  The knocking sounded again. Louder this time.

  Groggily, he opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the spill of dark red hair over the white pillow.

  The ivory curve of her neck.

  He couldn’t help but bend and put his lips to her nape.

  “The servants,” she said, in a voice hoarse with sleepiness. “Have they gone mad?”

  “I’ll go see…” But he found himself taking hold of her hips and pressing his fast growing erection to her rounded bottom.

  His beloved mistress.

  Soon to be his wife.

  He had proposed to her in between their lovemaking last night.

  Lovemaking. Was that an adequate term for it? He had been mad for her and she had indulged him, met him passion for passion.

  God, but he couldn’t get enough of her. He gripped her hips more firmly as he rocked his pelvis, enjoying the slight friction, enjoying the steady hardening of his shaft.

  She turned, her eyes hooded. “Adrian…”

  Her voice was full of affection.

  Her mouth, deep red and swollen from too many kisses, fascinated him.

  Would one more kiss make that much difference? He put his lips to hers and took her mouth hungrily. He reached around and cupped her mons. Warm wetness slicked his fingers as he sought and found her nub, already sweetly firm. He deepened the kiss, his tongue caressing hers in strong strokes even as he stimulated her below with a feathery touch.

  She moaned—the sound muffled.

  The knock sounded again. “Miss Jones.”

  Miranda’s housekeeper called, with a note of urgency.

  On a groan, Adrian tore his mouth from Miranda’s and he removed his hand from her warm, wet, throbbing flesh.

  She made to arise. He touched her shoulders. “Stay, I’ll go,” he said, rolling from the bed before the hunger pulsing in his body overwhelmed him. He turned back and ran a hand over her buttocks. “Sleep.”

  “Miss Jones,” the housekeeper called again.

  With resignation strengthening his resolve, Adrian donned his banyan and strode over to answer the door.

  The housekeeper’s face was taut with her concern. “My lord, Baron Drake is here to see you.”

  All traces of sleep and the pleasurable ache of unrequited lust were wiped from him. He stood there sober faced and with a curl of dread winding its way about his innards.

  He jerked the knot on his belt tighter and rushed out to the railing to look down at the vestibule.

  Sure enough, he saw Drake’s dark head.

  Adrian’s gut twisted with even greater foreboding and he rubbed his chin.

  Damn, how dare the baron visit Miranda’s house like this. Uninvited and without warning. What if Adrian had not been here?

  Davey.

  His son was here, sleeping.

  There’s something unholy about Drake.

  I will not tolerate him anywhere near my countess or my children.

  Adrian’s cousin, the Earl of Ruel’s words echoed in his mind.

  A soft touch on his back made him go rigid. He turned to see Miranda, standing there in her wrapper.

  With that viper in the vestibule.

  “Baron Drake?” she whispered, her voice still husky with lingering arousal.” What manner of man would call at this hour?

  “It’s all right, he’s here for me. I shall—” he began.

  A blur of white in the corner of his eye, she darted to the rail for look.

  At that moment, Drake raised his eyes to the stairwell, seeing Miranda in her French-style lace trimmed wrapper with her still hooded eyes and bee-stung mouth. The picture of a well-fucked woman.

  Raw, primal protectiveness ignited within Adrian.

  He grasped Miranda by the shoulders and jerked her back from the railing. With uncharacteristic roughness, he propelled her towards her bedchamber. “I shall deal with this visitor. Do not leave your chamber until I send for you.”

  Her eyes flashed fire. “See here, just wait a—”

  “Not now, love,” he said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. Once she was safely across the threshold of her chamber, he enfolded her gently into his arms.

  She froze, her eyes holding his, full of confusion. “But—”

  He pressed a hard, quick kiss on her mouth to quiet her. “Hush.”

  “See to Davey. Don’t allow him to come downstairs until I call for you. I’ll have your breakfast sent up here.”

  “Heavens, Adrian, who is that man that you would behave this way?”

  “I’ll explain later.”

  Maybe. Probably not. But he had to quiet her now. He disentangled her arms from his shoulders then dashed down the stairs.

  ****

  “Did you explain the need for haste to Miss Jones?” Drake asked as they sat in the withdrawing chamber.

  With uneasiness crackling through him, Adrian rubbed the back of his neck. “I let her believe that I’d had a sudden romantic revelation.”

  And he had had such a revelation.

  “The ladies always like that.”

  “I think I managed to convince her that it is a completely happy revelation.” Miranda deserved happiness, all the happy moments that Adrian could give her.

  “You don’t think she deserves to know the danger facing her?”

  Adrian’s level of uneasiness increased with a vague awareness of sudden nausea. He had also wanted to enjoy a day or two of happiness with her before facing the seriousness of the matter.

  Surely, th
ey had a few days?

  He glanced at Drake’s grim expression.

  Apparently not.

  “It’s your business how you handle your countess and your marriage but I would like to say that I have learned, through bitter and quite personal experience, that it is never wise to be deceptive to those we love most, even with the best of motives.”

  Drake reached into his pocket and retrieved a folded paper. He unfurled it and pushed it at Adrian. “It’s best for Miss Jones that you get this marriage official as soon as possible.”

  Adrian stared at the document then he glanced up at Drake. “This looks like a Special License.”

  Drake nodded. “It is.”

  “It is legal?”

  “Of course.”

  “But I was going to the Doctors’ Commons today.” He pushed the paper back at Drake. “This cannot be real. No one, not even an earl or a duke could procure a license to wed so quickly.”

  “Not an earl or a duke, that’s true.”

  Adrian chuckled coldly, incredulous. “But a baron can?”

  Drake pushed the paper back towards him. “My lord, you worry over unimportant matters while your lady’s safety is at stake.”

  “It cannot be real.” Ire rose within Adrian. “I cannot foist a false marriage on her.”

  “Are you trying to justify your own cold feet, my lord?”

  “Send for your cousins, the Earl of Ruel and Mr. Charlie Sutherland. Ruel will give the ceremony validity…” Drake smiled, slightly.” And Charlie Sutherland will gossip.”

  “Why keep the wedding secret then invite someone you think will gossip?”

  “Firstly, because it will give people a measure of gratification to think they know something that you did not wish them to know. This will give them the smug pleasure of feeling clever. They will forever more associate the scandal of your wedding with this pleasure. But it will also add spice and fuel to scandal. It will assure that it spreads far and wide.” Drake’s look turned grim. “Winterton will hear of it.”

  “Then he will know that his daughter is the wife of a peer, my countess.”

  Drake nodded. “He will also become angry and destabilized. It will make him easier prey.”

  Drake’s dark eyes seemed to peer into Adrian’s very soul. Adrian steeled his expression.

  “I hear he is residing in New York at present.”

  “Ah, my lord, you cannot pretend that you don’t intend to seek him out,” Drake said.

  Hot impatience swept through Adrian’s blood, the tide was so sudden; it took him unawares.

  Every additional day that the duke breathed was one day too long. Adrian felt that he must act now.

  Now.

  Resolve pounded with each heart beat.

  Yet, he had squelched this sensation the night before. He had done so for Miranda. Every woman deserved a honeymoon, a time of closeness and tenderness from her intended. Miranda needed it.

  He found himself torn between the need to cherish and please her, to give her everything that she needed— and the rising, increasing, imperative need to put an end to her ducal father’s life. To put an end to any possibility of danger to her from that man’s mad drive to hurt her and to make her suffer.

  Winterton had intended to kill Adrian.

  Such information had turned his blood to ice, not with fear but with anger that the duke would dare do anything to place Miranda all alone and vulnerable in the world.

  Miranda needed Adrian. She needed the protection, his name and title but also the tangible shield of his strength and his ability to use his mind, his body, his worldly goods, everything he was and had to keep her safe.

  Aware that the baron was still watching him intently and that he could no longer fully hide his emotions, Adrian said nothing.

  “I would do the same,” Drake said, his eyes cold as December.

  Adrian remained silent, keeping his expression hard, so hard that his jaw drew rigid and he could feel a muscle trying to twitch in protest.

  “I can help you, my lord.” With those words, Drake suddenly became not a dark, potentially threatening presence in Miranda’s house but an ally.

  Adrian’s sense of impatience surged again. His ears burnt with it.

  “But before I commit my aid, I want to be sure of a couple of things.” Drake said. “Winterton is not the most endearing man. However, he is very wealthy, very powerful. Politically situated. He has many loyal friends.”

  “So, he does,” Adrian said.

  “Then you realize the risk you’re taking.”

  “I would die to protect her.” The words were ripped from Adrian.

  “This may require a deeper, more lasting sacrifice. May I speak plainly, my lord?”

  Adrian nodded, curtly.

  “Your father was a seducer, an adulterer, stalking his prey amid the daughters and wives of Mayfair. He was also a known cheat at cards, a lair, a swindler, a gentleman who failed to show for several duels, something for which a gentleman will never be forgiven.”

  “Yes, he was all that. Probably more,” Adrian admitted with, tersely.

  “Your father’s personality and actions have created many difficulties for you, socially, with your peers.”

  Adrian nodded, another quick, curt motion. What good did it do to deny this truth?

  “He also left you in relative desperate financial straits for a man of your rank.”

  “That he did.”

  “You’ve worked hard to rebuild your reputation and wealth.”

  Adrian did not bother to voice the obvious.

  “This action you are contemplating could very well undo everything you’ve worked so hard to rebuild. Are you prepared for that?”

  “Of course I am. I will do anything for her.”

  Miranda paused with her hand on the withdrawing chamber door. Her heart had stopped and her blood went cold.

  This action you are contemplating could very well undo everything you’ve worked so hard to rebuild. Are you prepared for that?

  Faintness swept over her. She’d heard enough of this conversation to know that Baron Drake was trying to talk Adrian out of marrying her. Or at least making sure that he understood the graveness of his action.

  She had not been aware that Adrian had any close friends aside from his cousins, the Earl of Ruel and Mr. Charlie Sutherland. But obviously, the baron was an intimate and did care deeply about Adrian’s welfare.

  Her heart beat sped at the gravity of the matter that Drake addressed. She had been so giddy, so happy, so insanely in love with Adrian.

  She had been consumed with visions of the best aspects of their union, their future happiness.

  She had been so relieved that she had managed to pull him off his trajectory of self-destruction and to place his focus on a married life with his sons again. Overjoyed that he was no longer in the vitality draining clutches of the likes of Dorothy Sutherland even though she could take no joy in that lady’s tragic, downward spiral into insanity.

  But she had spared little thought of what marrying beneath him would do to Adrian’s reputation and relations with his peers. And he was not wealthy. He could not so easily flout society’s standards.

  She believed that Adrian needed her.

  But was she so sure that she wasn’t being incredibly selfish in accepting his proposal?

  A slip of white caught her eye, a stark contrast against the gleaming polished floor. The bill from the delivery boy. It must have dropped from her hand and drifted to the floor when she had overheard Drake’s warning.

  Oh yes. She had been coming to her study to retrieve some money. She paid immediately whenever she could. It put one in good with tradesmen and helped them to overlook providing services to a less than respectable residence.

  She had lived that kind of scorn and worry her whole life.

  Adrian had known the taint of his father’s disgraceful behavior and the shame of his genteel poverty.

  Yet, now he managed to pull himself ou
t of such disrepute.

  How would he feel about being plunged back into it upon their marriage?

  “I would do anything for her.” Adrian’s voice came through firm, determined. “Anything.”

  Her legs went weak.

  Oh God.

  She leaned against the door. He was resolved to wed her. She knew that. Adrian.

  He needed her.

  And God knew that she needed him.

  She loved him so dearly, so completely that she couldn’t imagine living without him.

  They would just have to face the fire together.

  ****

  “What’s Drake doing here?”

  The Earl of Ruel’s aggrieved tone barely registered in Adrian’s mind as he kept his gaze focused on his reflection as he slowly, automatically tied his cravat into a complex enough knot to convey the respect due his own wedding day.

  “Are you even listening to me?” Jon asked, sounding more aggrieved.

  “He’s a friend.” Adrian frowned and began undoing his neck wear.

  “A friend!”

  “He’s helping me with some things.”

  “The man is dangerous.”

  “Aye, I think he is.” Adrian’s mind was still a whirl. Just when the conversation had become most interesting, Miranda had knocked, needing to enter and retrieve her purse to pay some tradesman.

  Adrian had been so consumed by the conversation that he had not even felt the least annoyed that she had disobeyed his earlier command. When she had left, he and Drake had discussed the grittier aspects of tracking down a gentleman. A duke.

  Adrian had never done such a thing before. The whole aspect would be quite daunting without the older man’s advice. He was grateful.

  Ruel was still frowning at him.

  Jon would have an apoplexy if he knew that Adrian intended to use his trip to America as a cover for hunting down Winterton and forcing him into a duel.

  Well, Jon didn’t understand.

  Drake did.

  But he couldn’t tell his cousin this. Not yet.

  Jon’s sigh of exasperation startled him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see the older man’s mouth twisting into a disgusted expression. He motioned to Adrian’s neck. “You’re making a complete muss of that.” His disgust became more pronounced. “Where’s your valet?”