by Various
He had still not relaxed his hold. ‘So, Madame, what brings you to my door?’
‘Forgive me, sir, I thought everyone was downstairs. I simply wanted to –’
He folded both his arms round her waist, leant down and fastened his lips on her neck. She stood very still, her heart racing as flames sprang from his touch, sending shivers all over her skin.
His hair was faintly scented. Some light, elusive blend of citrus was mingled with something else, something male. It acted on her senses like wine.
‘Simply wanted to – what? Torment me?’ Slowly he turned her round to face him and he descended again, this time fastening his mouth on her throat. She felt helpless in his arms, overcome with a wave of longing so acute she felt a throb deep between her legs.
How did he do this? She leaned back, arching her neck with a contented sigh. His hands explored her body, gentle but relentless as he traced the curve of her hips, the narrow inlet of her waist, the swell of her breasts.
‘Deuce, Madame, the sight of you thrills the soul. I had begun to despair of this evening. Come, some champagne. Then you can dance for me some more.’
*
On a small gilded table an open bottle of champagne was waiting, cradled in a bucket of ice. He poured two glasses and passed one to her, eyeing her over the rim as they sipped. ‘So why do you parade at my door in peekaboo lace?’
She eyed him from under her lashes. Two could play at this. ‘How else would an Angel of the Night lure her prey, sir?’
What had she said?
His smile vanished. Quietly he set both their glasses down on the table and pulled her into his arms. His mouth descended on hers with a finality that robbed her of breath, his tongue surging along her own in an invasion of heat and spice that dissolved her will.
It had been so long …
She responded eagerly, pressing herself against him, winding her fingers up into his short hair, revelling in the feel of his jutting erection hard against her belly. He explored her, his hands moulding and teasing her breasts, sliding between her thighs. Flames spurted into life everywhere he touched, making her skin a riot of fire and sparks.
As he pulled away he gazed down at her with an expression so intense she felt her legs weaken.
‘Deuce, Madame, your powers are too dark for an angel. A devil, rather.’
He pushed her hard against the wall, his mouth descending on her throat, his lips hot and fierce as he dropped kisses down its length to the swell of her breasts, and then took a mouthful of breast and lace and sucked hard.
She cried out at the pleasure of it as he teased her nipple first with his tongue and then with his teeth, one hand pinning her to the wall by her wrists, the other searching deep between her thighs, cupping her with strong, warm fingers, pressing, squeezing, sending waves of heat coursing through her.
He released her and fastened on the other breast, his laughter muffled as she cried out again in mock protest.
‘Hold still, Madame. Do you want the whole house to hear? It’s lucky my valet’s below stairs chasing maids or we’d have an audience.’
‘Truly, sir, you are mistaken. I’d no idea you were here. And you should ask permission.’
Startled, he jerked up his head, eyes blazing. ‘What’s this? You’d display your full glory in black lace and then deny me? You were hoping to meet someone else?’
Her eyes widened. ‘No, sir, truly. I wanted only to see the effect. I thought everyone was in the ballroom.’
His slow smile masked a meaningful gleam. ‘And now you have seen the effect are you satisfied?’
She arched her neck as a fresh wave of desire coursed through her. ‘Satisfied, sir? Hardly. But we make a promising start.’ She smiled at him serenely.
His jaw tensed. Holding her gaze he gently dipped his finger in the wine and held it over her face. ‘And you came here for what? Another taste, Angel?’
She eyed him steadily, sensing his power, and then slowly extended her tongue and licked the end of his finger.
His dark eyes narrowed. ‘Ah. I see we understand one another.’
He trailed his other hand gently down her throat and along the curve of her breast. She held her breath, expecting a kiss, but instead he swept her up in his arms, carried her to the bed and dropped her onto the heavy silk cover.
He seized the soft cord holding back the drapes at the bed head and wrenched it off the fitting. In seconds he had tied her wrists to the posts, stretching her arms across the soft pillows and fastening each side securely.
She stared up at him in shock. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘You’ll see.’
His smile had faded. It was replaced with a look of intense concentration. She gasped as he hauled at her feet, splayed them wide and tugged at the other cord. It came away in his hands with a snap, the heavy gold tassels brushing her navel as he tested its length and wound it round first one ankle and then the other until she was securely spread-eagled across the quilt.
‘Now, Madame, we shall have you satisfied.’
She watched mesmerised as he unfastened his shirt and tugged it over his head, loosened his trousers and kicked off his boots. As his body emerged from the snowy linen, bronzed and gleaming, she bit her lip and then tugged at her bonds in an automatic move to lean across and touch him.
He leaned over her as his erection sprang free and she gasped as its hard, silky heat brushed against her belly.
‘You struggle so soon? We’ve hardly started.’
With infinite patience he leaned down and touched his lips to her navel, teasing her with the tip of his tongue. She stilled as he dropped kisses all across her belly, and then moved down her left thigh and laid another trail of soft, delicate kisses along the inside curve, kneeling over her with his legs either side of her shoulders.
She gazed at his erection looming above her, impossibly large. She could feel the heat from it on her face. He worked his way upwards with his tongue and his lips, following with long sweeps of his fingers, inflaming her, soothing her, then teasing her again until she writhed with distress.
All the while his erection loomed above her, a cruel reminder that pleasure was still out of reach, beyond her touch or taste but biding its time until he should unleash it. Soon he had reached her core, and she cried out as his mouth fastened greedily at the apex of her thighs and his tongue found her sweetest spot and pressed home.
As her pleasure began to build she pleaded for release but he silenced her by leaning up and transferring his kiss to her lips.
‘Hush, be patient, or you will peak too soon. We have a whole night ahead of us. You come when I say so.’ He kneeled up over her and held his shaft high over her face, smiling as she extended her tongue to lick the base.
Its taste was exciting, salty and rough. She teased him with the tip of her tongue, daring him to give her more.
He watched her with a calm smile, his arrogance sparking her arousal, and then shifted a little so she could just reach the head. ‘You would satisfy me too? Your blessings overpower me, Angel.’
Quietly he directed her to please him, leaning back to massage and fondle her throbbing centre, laughing as she writhed, soothing when she groaned. As he teased and probed her with his fingers she strained against him, aching for release, but he pulled away at the last moment and loomed once more over her face. ‘Now let me see it fill your mouth.’
Denied her rapture yet again and still burning for him, her body now tense as a bowstring, she leaned up eagerly to suck him, feeling her desire mount with every lick. Slowly he eased into her, shifting so she could reach, easing back so she could savour the salty taste of his skin, letting his flavour fill her mouth and fuel her desire.
‘Deuce, Madame, you’re good.’
As he quivered in her mouth she sensed a change in his erection but with a groan he pulled away and stood upright. For a second she wondered if she had displeased him. He left the room for a moment and came back with the champagne.
She watched entranced at the sight of his perfect body moving across the room, lithe as a cat, rippling with finely toned muscle. He was breathtaking – very big, very erect and distinctly aroused. Her very own classical statue, but alive, prowling with lust, and intent on just one thing – possession.
Deep between her legs heat flared again.
She must wear lace more often.
As he drew near he took a swig from the bottle and then knelt between her legs and fastened his mouth on her sex. The tiny bubbles sparkled and fizzed on her swollen, lustful folds like a shower of sparks. His tongue followed, hot, urgent and probing. As its tip found her target her climax exploded like a volcano.
She writhed as waves of pleasure crashed over her. He held her tight while the spasms rocked through her, stifling her moans with a long, lingering kiss that swelled her pleasure with honey.
As her upheavals faded he pulled away, laughing softly, took another swig of champagne and this time kissed it gently into her mouth and then buried his face in her hair. ‘Satisfied now, my Lady?’
She let out a contented sigh. ‘Only when you are, my Lord.’
Her soft whisper seemed to surprise him. With a startled smile and a swift kiss he rapidly unfastened her limbs. ‘Your concern for my pleasure earns you your freedom, my Angel. And now to the business.’ He flipped her over, hauled her up by the hips, and thrust deep inside her, filling her belly with glorious heat.
His long rapid thrusts invaded her, compelling her to tense around him, her own climax building again as he braced her with one hand deep between her legs. She flexed to his stroke, hauling him deep, thrilling to the weight and heat of his body covering her back. Soon, helpless in his grasp, she came with a joyful shriek.
Her orgasm seemed to go on and on, but as her spasms clutched at him she made a conquest of her own. With a mighty shout he paused, quivered and then bucked his fluid into her until she thought she would faint from pleasure.
*
After the brilliance of the ball, the morning was gloomy. In the spacious entrance hall rain drummed ceaselessly on the windows, watched in silence by heavy-eyed footmen.
Few guests were about. No one paid much attention to the slim figure draped in a cloak and seated next to a small valise.
Lucilla sighed. Her stay had been cut short. She would have to make other plans.
At that moment two figures came slowly downstairs. The lady of the house was regaling a gentleman guest with the delights planned for the rest of his stay.
He was stifling a yawn.
‘… And when the rain stops we shall take tea in the gardens. My daughter will dance in the summer house by the lake …’
At the foot of the stairs he paused. ‘Who is that?’
Lucilla froze as her lover from the night before swept her with a glacial stare.
His hostess looked taken aback. ‘Her? No one, your Grace. I’ve turned her out of the house.’
He frowned. ‘She is a servant here?’
‘Merely a visitor helping the lawyer with some papers. Now, here is the morning room –’
His tone became icy. ‘So you turned her out?’
The Countess drew a sharp breath. ‘Stand up, girl, when the Duke of Arven approaches you. There was a minor fracas this morning over a missing … garment. It was seen in her room by one of the maids.’
Lucilla reddened. The lace. She’d slipped away in the early light meaning to return it but she’d fallen asleep …
She kept her eyes resolutely ahead.
‘And she is still here?’
With an effort Lady Constance reigned in her temper. ‘She awaits a wagon to take her to the main road. Now, if you will step this way –’
The Duke arched an eyebrow. ‘A wagon? Let her walk, Madame. She can reflect on her errors.’
Flustered, the Countess hailed a footman. ‘Cancel the wagon.’
Lucilla gasped. ‘But Lady Constance, my valise –’ She broke off in dismay.
How could he? It must be a good twenty miles to the nearest coaching point.
He turned away with another yawn. ‘The young woman can leave her bag here. My man will drop it at the first inn we pass for her to collect.’
The Countess looked alarmed. ‘But – surely you’re not leaving, your Grace?’
He bowed. ‘Sadly, yes. I have pressing business in town. Convey my apologies to your charming daughter.’
As they moved away Lucilla ground her teeth. What had Shakespeare said?
Put not your faith in princes – or in lovers.
Especially dukes.
She snatched at her hood, gripped the cloak tightly under her chin and headed towards the main door.
*
An hour later she was soaked through, her boots heavy with mud. At this rate her journey would take hours. But the exercise might help her forget.
After such a night, to sink to this …
What must he think?
It was hard not to feel bitter. Did a favour to a friend have to cost so much?
From the lane behind her came the rattle of harness and the thud of pounding hooves. She shrank into the hedgerow as the great coach clattered past, splattering her with mud.
A little way ahead it slowed to a halt. Steam rose off the backs of the horses as the door swung open, bright with the colours of the Arven crest.
It must be him. She stumbled towards it, clambered up the step and sank gratefully into the soft padding of the upholstery.
The Duke was sprawled on the opposite seat. He regarded her coldly as she recovered her breath.
‘Was that your first accusation of theft?’
She coloured and bit her lip.
‘You slipped away early. Our business was unfinished.’
She lowered her eyes. ‘I thought it finished very successfully, sir.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘For you, perhaps. Strip.’
She stared. ‘What?’
A muscle moved in his jaw. ‘You heard, Madame.’ He rapped on the roof with his cane. ‘Drive on.’
As the coach jolted into movement Lucilla glared at him. ‘You’d take your pleasure again, sir? This is an outrage –’
He leaned forward, eyes blazing. ‘Strip. Or I’ll do it for you. You’re wet and you’re shivering. You might catch cold, then a fever. I’ll not have a corpse on my hands.’
He leaned back with a slow smile. ‘Besides, I’ll enjoy the view.’
She pressed her lips together. He was a wonderful lover. Such passion, such energy – and only a few short hours ago.
How quickly things changed.
She undressed slowly. He watched, impassive, his eyes lingering on her skin, drinking in every detail. As she peeled off her second stocking he leaned forward.
‘Kneel.’
‘Now?’ She darted an involuntary glance at his trouser flap and then looked away. ‘You would have me –’
He laughed softly. ‘Relax, that was not my intention.’
With a swift movement he shook out a tasselled rug folded on the seat next to him and draped it around her shoulders. ‘But the idea has distinct appeal. Later, perhaps. Now come here.’
In a swift movement he gathered her into his lap, holding her close with one arm. With his other hand he pushed a stray tendril of wet hair away from her face. ‘A governess at Chatsworth, a lady-in-waiting at Windsor. Where next – Newgate? Dammit, Lucilla, when can I make you my duchess? We fuck in every bed in England except mine. Why do you hide from me? Do you doubt my love for you? I’ve no reason to doubt yours – I taste it whenever we meet.’
She buried her face in his neck and drank in the glorious scent of his skin. ‘It’s for your own good, sir. How can I marry you? I’m not your equal.’
He touched his lips to her forehead, his tenderness sending a tremor through her. ‘You’re intelligent, cultured. You’ve a brain the equal of any man’s.’
Tears stung behind her eyes. ‘I meant your social equal. I’m a widow with
nothing to offer. The Earl’s gaming debts –’
‘We’ve been through this. Your husband’s debts are a trifle. I’ve offered time and again to settle.’
‘But people would say you’d married a gold-digger.’
With an impatient sigh he pushed her upright. ‘You’d have me marry a thief? You’re everything I need. And I want you in my own bed, not in other people’s.’
With an impatient thrust he pushed her off his lap and rapped again on the roof of the coach. Once more it juddered to a halt.
‘This ends now. I should make you pleasure me on your knees, or take you over mine and give you a sound spanking – or possibly both. You owe me the one and you certainly deserve the other.’
With a violent thrust of his boot he kicked open the door. It yawned open, revealing a patch of sticky, muddy track and a thick, dripping thorn bush.
She shrank back.
‘Will you marry me, Lucilla? Yes or no? If you refuse you can get out now and damned well walk.’ His eyes glittered. ‘And I keep the rug.’
Her stomach clenched. She’d never seen him so angry.
Had she gone too far? It tore her heart to do this; she loved him so. He’d pursued her for months, and he felt so good …
Briefly she closed her eyes. ‘Yes, then. But on one condition.’
His face darkened. ‘Name it.’
She crept back onto his lap, wound her arms around his neck and whispered softly into his ear.
His arms stole around her as a slow smile spread over his face. ‘The spanking first? Done.’
He captured her mouth, and for a long time held her locked in an embrace that filled her with heat, with longing and finally with relief.
*
As the sun came out, the coachman shrugged off his oilskins and grinned. From the slaps and squeals below he guessed the Duke and his lady were enjoying themselves. For once his spell out here in the rain might earn him a nice fat tip.
He jiggled the harness to spur on the team. The inn beckoned and so did its ale.
As the greys picked up their pace the giggles slowly died away and were followed by a pause. It ended with a loud male groan and a long, contented silence.
