House of Sin

by Lacy Danes

  She had craved his touch this morning and wanted more than what this position could offer her. She had thought he had wanted her, but then his behavior at breakfast made her doubt that. Her heart pinched. He didn’t want her. He couldn’t even look at her after the doctor had kissed her. But if he did come, everything would be well. He would untie her. That truth fluttered deep in her gut. He had always protected her. He would not allow anything of consequence to happen to her. Footsteps came in the hall. Emily stiffened and concentrated on the voices. Let it be Adam. Please let Sibila have gotten him.

  “This way,” Sibila said.

  “I am so glad you came to me, Sibila. I-I had begun to think you serious about having nothing to do with me.”

  “You will see.”

  The footsteps entered the room. There was a moment of silence. “What is this?”

  Emily turned her head to see Christon standing beside Sibila. She closed her eyes.

  Christon. She was giving her to Christon. A cold sweat stuck to her neck. Was Sibila in love with Christon?

  Christon was to wed Miss Button. Though he certainly would still have a diddle with the servants. He would certainly do the act with Sibila again.

  Sibila had said she did this because she needed to leave, but could not do so without offering Christon something?

  Her!

  My God, she offered her as if she was something that belonged to her. She belonged to no one. She would shortly belong to the streets and be fighting to survive. Christon walked to the bed and stared at Emily tied. He turned toward Sibila. “I-I thought you wanted me, Sibila. What is this?”

  “A gift.”

  “A gift? I want you, Sibila. I want you tied like that before me. Don’t you understand?”

  “You are marrying, Christon. There will be a new mistress of Portage Place. You and I cannot be.” Her voice cracked.

  Oh no. She was crying.

  “And what is this servant supposed to do for me? Take your place?”

  “She—she will take care of you. She will show you—you can achieve what we share with another maid.”

  “No.” He shook his head and blew out a breath. “We have more than pleasure between us. Yes, we both find pleasure in others. But—but damn it. I need to know you are always with me. Mine.”

  Oh my, in his own way Christon loved Sibila too. Emily watched in awe as he fisted his hands and paced back and forth before the bed, agitated.

  “I can’t, Christon. I won’t. Watching you spend your life and have children with another is more than I can bear. I-I am leaving today.” Sibila stuck up her chin. “She is your new pleasure.” She pointed to the bed. “Take her.”

  Emily swallowed. They loved each other. He didn’t want to dally with her. He wanted Sibila, and only with Sibila would he do as he did. Emily’s mind spun. Sibila was naïve to think that anyone could replace another. Love was not interchangeable. If it was, well, it wouldn’t be love. Love grabbed hold and would not let go. Love was what made relationships last. Love was what made people do and think crazy things.

  Christon stepped toward Sibila and ran his both his hands through his ink-black hair. “I will not wed her.” He stepped closer, and refisted his hands at his sides. “I have told Father. The only woman I will wed is you. Miss Button’s money be damned. Let Albert wed her.” He caged her against the wall, the curtain billowing up behind them.

  “Don’t,” Sibila’s voice choked out.

  Through the sheers, he grabbed Sibila by her nape and pulled her body up to his, the thin fabric clinging between them. “You make me crazy.” He leaned in and kissed her.

  Adam stood outside the door that led on to the master’s hall. He would tell Emily he was falling in love. No… That would not do. He was in love with her. His heart pounded. He had seen that same love in her every act toward him. He would leave here today with her. They would plan a life. Find work. Live and love together. His uncle had said he always had a place for him at the mill. He would tell her about him.

  He would tell her all about his brother, about his promise to his mother, and that no matter what, he wanted her to leave with him today.

  Together they would find a way to survive. The doctor had said love was powerful. He wanted to believe that. What he did know was that love, unlike lust, was not denied, and Emily had touched him in a place he had not known… Her hands had led to his heart. Tears and soft caresses. His heart beat faster when she was in the room.

  He stepped into the hall and strode with purpose down toward the bedchamber. He turned into the doorway. Christon pushed Sibila up against the wall and passionately kissed her.

  Adam glanced at the large, four-post bed and his mouth dropped open. Emily laid spread wide, gagged and tied. “What is going on here?”

  Christon pulled his head back from Sibila’s lips. “Be a good lad and take that chit there on the bed, Adam. She is ready for a good fucking, and I have other interests.” He yanked on Sibila’s skirt and the fabric tore. “Sibila, you are a foolish woman. Strong, smart and foolish.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into a hug. “Don’t ever leave me.”

  Adam walked to the foot of the bed. “Are you well, Emily?” His stomach knotted. What had they done to her?

  She nodded, and a tear ran from the corner of her eye and down her face.

  He reached with shaking hands for the gag and untied it. “Are you sure you are well?”

  “Quite.” She worked her mouth and swallowed. “I was frightened when Sibila attacked me and tied me.” She wet her lips “When I realized he did not want me, well, I was relieved.” A smile curved her lips. “All I kept thinking of was wanting you to come in and save me.”

  Who couldn’t desire her? “I want you, Emily.” He gently traced the lace at the top of her shift and swallowed the lump in his throat. Tell her, Adam. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I am in love with you.” He leaned back and stared down at her, then smiled. It was the first time since arriving at Portage Place that he had smiled so broadly. Damn, it felt good.

  “What?” Happiness, excitement and a bit of disbelief danced in the depths of her eyes.

  He still couldn’t believe it himself. “I am afraid so.” He nodded and smiled more widely. He was happy. “Never expected it, but I have so much to tell you.” He reached her shoulders and gently lifted, sliding his hands down her arm to the binding on her wrists. He gently undid the lace, freeing her hands. He pulled first the left, then the right from beneath her. He slowly rubbed her wrists, her palms and her fingers.

  She groaned. “They sting.”

  “Wiggle them, they will feel better soon.” He released her hands.

  She wiggled her fingers and laid her palms face down on her corseted stomach. “Adam. I thought you were mad at me. This morning…”

  “I was a milksop. I could not admit to my… Honestly, I didn’t recognize what was happening until I hit the doctor.” He cringed.

  She pushed up onto her elbows. His eyes lingered on her outstretched, still-tied legs. “Shall I continue to untie you? Or?” He raised his eyebrows in question.

  A pretty pink burned her cheeks. She was adorable and womanly. And his. He didn’t want anyone else to have her.

  “You are lovely all stretched out for me.” He touched his fingertips to her inner thigh.

  “Then take me.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. Christon and Sibila were gone. “Not like this on the master’s bed. But I shall, just like this, when we have privacy, you naughty cat.” His heart had lifted his spirits. He was giddy.

  “Yes.”

  He reached down and untied her ankles, then picked her up in his arms. Emily giggled and rubbed the side of her face against his shoulder. He squeezed her soft curves to his torso and inhaled the scent of roses. A warm contentedness pulsed through him. This was right. She belonged with him. He turned and walked her from the room. When he reached the stairs, he carried her down to the main floor and out onto the lawn
and into the carriage house. He strode past the black-and-brown lacquered coach and into his room, shutting the door with his boot heel. He gently laid her on the unmade bed and sat next to her. She was so beautiful. Her brown-red hair and her lily complexion called to him in a way no other had. The life and happiness that defined her shone in her eyes and lifted his soul.

  “Adam. You want me? I want you. Only you.” She slid her legs together and glided her fingers about his waist.

  His hand splayed across her belly. “Then so be it. We will make our life’s work. I will take you away from here and we will make our dreams come true.”

  “I want that.” She pushed up her bottom, arching her body toward him. “Please.”

  He smiled at her. “Sinful, Emily.” He dipped down through her hairs and into her core. Slick, warm lips parted open for him. He fluttered his hand on her mound, watching her intake of breath, and then slid his body over her. The air steamed between them. Parting her legs with his knee, he kneeled between. Her tongue darted out, and she wet her lips. He wanted to join with her. This moment was what they desired. In joining, they would express their lust. In caressing, they would express their love.

  He quickly undid the buttons on his breeches. Grabbing his cock in his hand, he leaned in and gently placed the head to her opening. She bit her lip and closed her eyes. “Put your arms, wrists crossed, above your head.”

  She did so. Her breasts thrust up. Her body extended beneath him. Every curve that was Emily extended for his view. The curve of her neck, the round swell of her breast, to the concave of her waist. He ran his hand down to her corseted hip and slowly slid the tip of his cock into her. Her oiled sheath stretched and popped over his ridge, encasing his head. “Mmmm.”

  “Oh!” She bit her lip.

  “All well, Emily?”

  “Quite.” Her lips curved up and she arched her hips, sliding farther down his shaft.

  He reached up and wrapped her wrists in his hand, then pinned her to the bed. “I have so much to show you. I have lost my heart to you and I want us to achieve your dream. Lust and love and marriage.” He pulled his cock to the tip.

  “We already have two.” She breathed and then arched her hips, sliding back down his length.

  “Oh?” He smiled at her. She needed to answer, and he needed to hear she loved him too.

  “Quite.”

  He ground his hips against her, forcing his groin to rub her clit.

  Her body trembled and her eyelids fluttered. “Oh! Lust. We definitely have lust.”

  He pulled out, and her sheath gripped him, sending sparks to his bollocks. “Ah. Quite so. We do indeed have lust.” What a lust it was. He would futter her for hours.

  She squirmed and wiggled, but he refused to move. Her body shook against him.

  “And the second?”

  Her eyes focused straight on his.

  His stomach fluttered as he waited for the answer.

  “Love. We have love, Adam.”

  His heartbeat controlled his breath. Indeed they did. He didn’t think he could smile any more, yet he seemed to. “Indeed. Lust and love, the two I thought never to mix. They do. And from the start of our relationship, you have had me over the moon for you.” He pushed his manhood back into her wet, swollen sheath and groaned.

  “Oh?” Emily winked at him. “I have that effect?”

  “Well, I can’t get enough, I fear.” He trailed his fingers down her arm to her hair and curled a loose lock about his fingers. “I am going to love you hard…” he ground his pelvis against her blissful spot, “…and slow.” He pulled back at a snail’s pace. Her body jerked, and she tossed her head to the side and bit her lip. “And make you scream out your pleasure for the world to hear, but…” he stopped with the ridge of his head spreading her opening wide, “…before I do, I need to know. Will you?” He grinned down at her. She quivered. Oh this was fun.

  “Will I?” she whispered, and her eyelids fluttered shut.

  “Quite so, Emily. Will you make all our dreams come true? Will you marry me?”

  “Adam.” Her eyes widened, and she smiled brightly at him. “All three?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh Adam, yes I will.” She pushed up and pressed her lips hungrily to his. “I love you.” A tear ran down her cheek.

  “You’d better, because I love you too, Emily.”

  About the Author

  Lacy Danes made a New Year's resolution to write a hot, historical romance. A year and a half later, she achieved her goal. She lives in Seattle, Washington, where besides writing she enjoys horseback riding, gardening and savoring a great martini while watching the world go by. Visit Lacy at her web site. www.LacyDanes.com.

  A passionate education leads to dangerous love…

  Breaking Free

  © 2010 Anya Richards

  For Claire Montjoye, widowhood is no release from scandal. Used as sexual currency by her notoriously libertine husband, she longs for a life of quiet respectability. But the ton’s disapproval ensures she will never be truly accepted—and any man openly seeking her company will be tainted.

  When Xavier Westbourne pulls her away from peril, his touch fills her with yearning for unattainable dreams. Accepting his invitation to the opera is not only unwise for him, it’s dangerous to her lonely heart. Perhaps taking him as a lover will be enough.

  Scion of one of Society’s most upright families, Xavier knows propriety as a cold, brutal master. Having endured one loveless marriage, he refuses to repeat the mistake, even for his motherless son. Yet Claire easily breaks through his wall of reserve, and her offer of private instruction in the sexual arts is irresistible.

  Consumed by passion, overwhelmed by ecstasy, they discover something neither thought existed—the freedom to open their hearts. Yet not all the horrors of the past are content to remain hidden by the mists of time. And suddenly their very survival depends on trusting that love really can conquer all.

  Warning: A Regency hero who can’t keep his hands to himself and a heroine who encourages him in the most shocking, explicit manner. If conflicted heroes, heroines with a past, velvet, mirrors, self-love or the occasional extra pair of feminine legs in the bed offend, this book is not for you.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Breaking Free:

  “What is this room Claire?”

  He did not know why it was important for him to ask, but suddenly it was. He recognized his transience in her life, realized the gift she offered him, yet felt a strange reluctance to share her with the ghosts of her past.

  Claire’s chin rose at an almost combative angle, her eyes shuttered against his intrusion, and he thought she would refuse to answer, or ask him to leave. Then her face softened and one shoulder shrugged in a self-conscious motion.

  “It is a play room, a place where fantasies can come to life. It was here I began to truly understand myself, to learn what I was, and what I could be when necessary.”

  She looked around, as if seeing it for the first time, and smiled.

  “There is nothing to fear here, for it is a different world from that which exists outside the doors. Once it was my world, and now…” she turned in a circle, arms flung wide, “…I give it to you.”

  There was a forced note to her explanation, which did little to soothe the final misgivings he harboured. But somehow they faded when she spoke again, an odd mixture of confidence and hesitancy in her voice.

  “I promise, if you decide to return after tonight, this room will be completely ready for you. I will see to it tomorrow, but tonight…” she shrugged and smiled, “…tonight the bed cannot be slept in and I am not in the mood to wait. There is something I long to do, something perhaps selfish, although I hope it will be pleasurable for you. Will you indulge me, Xavier?”

  Her low voice, flushed cheeks and gleaming eyes begged for his trust. Wordless, rooted to the spot, he found the strength to nod, once, and her smile lit up the room.

  Time fractured, stretched and contracted
in turns, each movement of her approach taking a year, but each touch of her fingers far too fleeting.

  Caresses flowed from her naturally. The soft stroke of his cheek with the back of her hand, his lower lip with the pad of her thumb, were as inevitable as sunlight, or rain. The passage of her hands down his neck to his chest left a river of heat in their wake. Sensitized to the lightest contact, even her easing of the evening coat and waistcoat off his shoulders and releasing his suspenders caused spasms of desire. When she found his nipples through the thin lawn shirt, made a sound of pleasure at the back of her throat as they hardened beneath her fingers, it was as intimate as a kiss.

  Pushing him back against the wall, her fingers cupped the length of his erection. The heat of her palm penetrated through the fabric. Arching into her hand, desperate for more, he moaned.

  Claire laughed then. A sultry, siren’s laugh, filled with joy, captivating. He reached for her, wanting to touch her as intimately as she touched him, but she grasped his hands, raising them to place a soft kiss on each before tugging them down to his sides.

  “Tonight, just let me touch you, Xavier.”

  The muscles in his legs quivered, threatening to give way, forcing him to brace against the wall, fingers convulsively curled for purchase.

  She pulled his shirt free and pushed it up, bending to place a swirling, open-mouthed kiss on the shuddering skin of his stomach. Sublime sensation, almost painful in its intensity, had him arcing away from her lips. The motion served only to draw her closer. Holding his shirt above her head, she plunged the wet heat of her tongue into his navel, trailed down to outline the top of his breeches. And her hand, oh God, her hand, measured and pressed and squeezed his prick, taking him to the edge of sanity.

  He wanted her hands on his naked flesh, the craving for it pulsing through every vein. Pushing away from the wall, he pulled off both his cravat and shirt, tearing the latter’s cuff in his haste.