Marissa Day

by The Seduction of Miranda Prosper

  Miranda had always adored books. Her father had taught her to cherish reading and knowledge. But he’d never been able to afford more than a small collection of his own. Such a room in a private home ... It was beyond anything she’d ever imagined. One could spend hours in such a room. A lifetime even.

  “Do you like it?” inquired Corwin as Miranda spun around, craning her neck to try to see the upper level.

  Miranda opened her mouth and closed it again.

  “Good Lord, Corwin, you’ve rendered her speechless.” Darius selected two glasses from the sideboard and poured a measure of brandy into one and filled the other with sherry. “Sit down before you make yourself giddy, woman.”

  With a gentle push, Corwin sat her on the nearest leather-covered sofa. Darius handed the sherry to Corwin, who handed it to Miranda, who took it without thinking, or glancing at it.

  “You said you were wealthy,” she stammered. “But I never imagined ...”

  Corwin chuckled. “Well, perhaps I overextended myself on this room a little.” His eyes wandered the polished shelves. “But to me there are few things in this world more precious than good books.” Although she could hear the pride he took in his collection, Miranda did not miss the way his gaze traveled to Darius, and to herself.

  “Before you start enumerating your worldly possessions, we need to report to the captain.” Darius poured a second brandy and set it on the table beside Corwin before dropping into a chair beside the fire and stretching out his long legs.

  “Yes, yes. Forgive us a moment, Miranda.” Corwin sat across from Darius. Darius pulled a small notebook with a silver pencil attached to it from his coat pocket and handed it over to Corwin.

  Miranda nodded and sipped the sherry, which was excellent and a much-needed restorative. Corwin bent over the book, scribbling furiously. Miranda discreetly turned her attention back to the magnificent room around her.

  If this is the library, what must the rest of the house be like?

  Just as she had never stopped to consider how Corwin had come by his living, she had not stopped to think what his home would be like. She had gotten so used to the strange and the ... well ... magical aspects of these men, it felt jarring to see them doing such ordinary things as sitting in front of a fire, sipping brandy, and writing.

  After several minutes, Corwin tore a set of pages out of the notebook, folded them into a square and cast them into the fire, and Miranda felt, absurdly, that what she had come to think of as normalcy around these two was restored.

  “And now we wait.” Corwin snapped the book shut and returned it to Darius. He raised the glass of brandy to them both in silent salute and then downed a healthy measure.

  Miranda rallied herself. It would not do to sink any further into the warmth and comfort of the room. “As lovely as it is, I cannot stay here. I’ve already been gone from the house for hours without explanation.”

  “Surely that doesn’t matter,” said Darius.

  Visions of the ledger’s red ink rose in Miranda’s mind. “It does if my mother chooses to turn me out of the house.”

  Corwin actually looked shocked. “Do you believe I would abandon you, Miranda?”

  “That’s not the point. My public reputation is in enough jeopardy that Mother may be driven to drastic measures.”

  Darius lifted his brows to Corwin and set his snifter aside. “Miranda, none of that matters,” he said. “You’re with us now.”

  “And what exactly does that mean?” Miranda slammed the sherry glass down on the table so hard its contents sloshed across the brightly polished wood. “What am I to you? Your Catalyst, yes, but what else? Will you make me your mistress? Are we to formalize a contract for my ... services? Or is one of you going to marry me?” They were both staring at her as if she’d suddenly grown a second head, but now that she had begun to speak so forcefully she couldn’t seem to stop. “There’s nothing left—do you understand? Nothing! I have to get married now and Lady Thayer’s nephew is my only suitor, but he might be the enemy and I can’t ... I can’t ...” To her shame, Miranda burst into tears.

  All at once Corwin was beside her, wrapping her in his strong arms and pulling her close. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “It’s all right.”

  She felt Darius sit on the other side of her. A handkerchief was pressed into her hand, and Miranda wiped at her streaming eyes. When she was finished, Corwin folded her fingers around the sherry glass, replenished now, and urged her to drink. She gulped the wine, welcoming the clarifying heat that spread through her.

  “Better?” asked Corwin.

  Miranda nodded, although she felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “Fear and heartache.” Corwin reached out and gently tucked one of her tumbled locks behind her ear. “That’s enough for anyone.” He took her sherry glass from her fingers and set it down, then took her hand in his. “Now, Miranda, I want you to listen very carefully to what I am about to say. I will protect you, Miranda. No matter what happens. I will take care of you.”

  “We will,” said Darius firmly. “We will, Miranda.”

  She looked up at Darius. His eyes were hard, but at the same time utterly open and honest. “Darius?” she whispered.

  “You saved my life today. You saved Corwin. You showed a strength and courage ... I admit I doubted you. I doubted this.” He gestured to indicate all of them. “But no more.” He looked deep into her eyes. “You belong with us, Miranda. As a Catalyst, as a woman, as yourself.”

  “We are your protectors,” said Corwin, and she felt the force of a sacred oath in his words. “Now and forever.”

  “I want to believe you,” whispered Miranda, looking into his dark eyes. “I do, but ...”

  “It doesn’t matter what you believe, I’m afraid,” said Corwin with a small smile. “It is the truth, and it will not change.”

  “There is one other consideration,” said Darius. “If it were known Miranda’s mother had turned her out, Lady Thayer may have a more difficult time inviting her to that house party.”

  Corwin rubbed his chin. “That is a point.”

  “But, Lady Thayer ... She had you kidnapped, Corwin. Didn’t she?”

  “The fact that I was knocked on the head while following her from the opera strongly suggests it, yes. All the more reason we are going to need the covert entry to their country estate which your invitation will provide.”

  Miranda swallowed. They were talking openly of sending her into danger a moment after swearing to be her protectors. It was dizzying.

  I suppose I should be flattered that they believe I am able to take care of myself. Although, admittedly, they do not seem to be giving me much choice. She frowned.

  “None of us has much choice when it comes to our battles,” said Corwin. “Miranda, do you have someone in the city with whom you could plausibly be staying?”

  Miranda considered. She had few relations, and even fewer close friends. The few she’d had as a young girl had drifted away into their own lives once they had married. “Adele Rivers,” she said at last. “We were close as girls, and she’s always told me I can come to her anytime.” The fact that Adele had been a hellion and that Miranda had covered for her more than once wouldn’t hurt either.

  “Very good.” Corwin crossed to a beautifully painted writing desk. “Using the excuse of your row, if you will please to write to your mother explaining you have gone to stay with your friend.”

  “I should write my maid Louise as well. We’ll need her help.”

  Corwin nodded. “She’s a good girl from what I’ve seen, and devoted to you. I would welcome her assistance.”

  As Miranda applied pen to paper, the door opened and the butler Jacobs entered and bowed. “Your breakfast is ready, sir.”

  “Very good. We’ll have it in here.”

  The man bowed again and gestured. In response, a liveried footman entered, pushing a cart laden with covered dishes. The aromas
that accompanied them went straight to Miranda’s painfully empty stomach.

  Jacobs and the footman moved about expertly, clearing one of the square tables and covering it with a white cloth, then laying out plates and cutlery. It was extremely difficult to concentrate on finishing the letters with the appetizing scents filling the air. But she managed, and at last sealed them both.

  “Jacobs, see that these letters are delivered at once.” Darius handed the missives to the butler. “And you may go now. We’ll serve ourselves.”

  “Very good, sir.” The butler handed the letters to the footman, bowed and closed the doors behind them both.

  “Now, allow me to escort you to breakfast, Miss Prosper.” Corwin held out his arm.

  “And me.” Darius did likewise.

  It was absurd. It was improper. It was wonderful. Miranda took both their arms and permitted them to steer her toward the table. The scents coming from the covered dishes were enough to drive Miranda frantic. Clearly, Corwin employed an excellent cook. There were poached eggs and spiced chops and a fillet of sole in a lovely butter sauce. There was cold ham, which Corwin, as host, carved in thick slices. All was accompanied by toast and marmalade, and a selection of gloriously sweet, buttery, French-style pastries.

  Miranda tried to control herself, and take only ladylike helpings, but she was hungrier than she ever had been in her life, and soon found her manners vanishing. Besides, Corwin and Darius kept passing the plates toward her, helping her to this and that. It was almost as if they were enjoying the sight of her stuffing herself.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact,” said Darius, putting a third pastry on her plate. “It’s an unexpectedly intriguing sight.”

  “I don’t know what’s so unexpected about it,” remarked Corwin as he poured a little more champagne into her glass. “When has it ever been anything but a delight to be with Miranda when she’s enjoying herself?”

  “An excellent point.” Darius raised his own glass to Corwin. Miranda found herself blushing violently.

  “You shall have to teach me how to guard against your eavesdropping,” she murmured toward her pastry.

  “Eventually,” said Corwin. “Finish your food. There’s a good girl.”

  Miranda found herself seized by a sudden urge to throw a slice of toast at him. Darius reached out and removed the rack to the other end of the table.

  A laugh bubbled up in her. She tried to suppress it, but only for a moment. There was no reason to be quiet. She laughed out loud, and Corwin chuckled, and Darius grinned. It felt wonderful. Had she ever been this at ease? In this beautiful place, with excellent food, a fire and these men. Midnight Corwin. Golden Darius. Both complex, difficult, confusing, overwhelming.

  Both magnificent, loyal, courageous, handsome as heroes of Greek legend.

  Her protectors. Her lovers.

  They both watched her now, and she could feel her heat rising beneath their gazes. Images surfaced in her mind, sensations both remembered and anticipated; of hands on her skin, hot and ready mouths, the cool air as her clothing was removed. A delicious tingle swept through her as she looked from one man to the other.

  “Miranda, come here,” said Corwin.

  Her heart pounding softly, Miranda stood and walked toward him, aware with each motion that Darius watched her. His gaze seared as strong as a passionate caress. It somehow slowed her movements and added a new sway to her hips as she approached Corwin.

  Corwin wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her onto his lap. Without a word he kissed her and she gave herself to it completely. She ran her tongue along his lips. He tasted of salt and brandy and sweet desire. His hands circled her waist, cupped her hips and settled her close. Miranda wrapped her arms around his shoulders, savoring the breadth and strength of them.

  At last, needing air, she broke the kiss. “We shouldn’t,” she murmured. “Your man will be back soon to clear away the dishes.”

  Corwin sighed and put on a perturbed expression.

  “You forget, Miranda,” he chided. “This is my house, and these are my servants. Each one of them voluntarily bound themselves to silence about what happens within these walls, both by inclination and by bespelled oath. I could take you on the floor, right here, and not one of them would say a word.”

  A teasing contrariness brightened inside Miranda, and she stood. “Do you know, you have this terrible habit of threatening me with a public fucking.” She could barely believe she’d used the word, let alone in such a haughty tone, but at the same time, she relished the sense of mischief that had come over her. “I’m beginning to find it rude. And presumptuous.”

  “Are you, b’gad?” Corwin’s eyes narrowed. “Or perhaps you simply want it too much.”

  “I don’t believe I want anything to do with you right now.” Miranda flounced over to the sofa and sat. To emphasize her point, she drew in her skirts, and crossed her ankles.

  “Really?” Corwin’s shoulders slumped. “Heigh-ho. My bad luck.” He stuck his hands in his coat pockets, and let his gaze roam to the other end of the table. “Perhaps Darius?”

  “Me?” said Darius, sounding so affronted that for a heartbeat Miranda was afraid he was really angry. “Is this how it’s to go on, then? You come to me when she won’t have you?”

  “Darius, Darius, don’t be so cold.” Corwin rounded the table and sank to his knees in front of Darius’s chair. “I’m in need.”

  Darius reached out and knotted his fingers in Corwin’s dark hair, tipping the other man’s face up. “Perhaps you should be left in need a little longer,” he whispered. “To remind you not to take me for granted.”

  But a heartbeat later Darius leaned forward, and they kissed.

  And Miranda stared.

  They kissed easily, openly, comfortably. They both closed their eyes, savoring. Corwin slid his hand into Darius’s golden hair as he stood, drawing Darius up with him. They wrapped their arms around each other, pressing their hard bodies together. Corwin sighed. Darius murmured his name.

  Miranda stared.

  Corwin ran his hands down Darius’s beautifully muscled arms and across the sculpted planes of his chest. In turn, Darius, with expert fingers, undid Corwin’s cravat and ran his hand across Corwin’s throat, pushing the neck of his shirt open and loosening the collar. Corwin tugged off Darius’s coat and tossed it aside. Then he ran greedy palms up Darius’s strong thighs, to his ass, and around his hips to his swelling cock. Darius sighed and shifted, leaning himself into Corwin’s confident hand.

  A riot of feeling surged through Miranda. She was shocked. She shouldn’t have been, but she was. But at the same time, the play between the two of them was beautiful, tender and unabashedly erotic. As she watched Corwin run palms and fingers over the outline of Darius’s cock, her skin heated, her lips and breasts seemed to grow heavier and she could feel the sweet sensation of desire rising up from the center of her.

  Darius captured Corwin’s mouth for another open kiss and his fingers worked the buttons on Corwin’s fly, opening the dark-haired Sorcerer’s breeches so he could reach inside with both hands. Corwin’s shirttail prevented Miranda from seeing his cock, but she could see Darius’s hands move beneath the linen, up and down, up and down.

  “Mmm ...” Corwin sighed and gripped Darius’s ass, squeezing, and giving it one hard spank. A tiny whimper escaped Miranda.

  The men broke off their kiss, and turned their heads to look at her, but neither moved his hands away from the other. Miranda blushed hot, confused to realize her desire could be so swiftly, so hotly, aroused by the sight of these two men pleasuring each other.

  “Why, Corwin,” said Darius archly. “I believe Miss Prosper has changed her mind.” He gestured, and Miranda felt the prickle of magic. In the next heartbeat the two of them were naked in each other’s arms, and Miranda could clearly see Darius’s hand on Corwin’s gorgeously erect cock. Darius ran his fingers almost thoughtfully over the hard length of it. Miranda watched, fascinated. Her mouth was wate
ring again, and her pussy was drenched.

  “You may be right.” Corwin stroked the curve of Darius’s ass appreciatively, almost contemplatively. “Do you know, I promised her a most particular lesson earlier. I think now is the time to make good.”

  Corwin took Darius’s tight balls in his hand, stroking and fondling. Miranda swallowed hard and, without any thought at all, raised one hand to her breast and stroked. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to help it. She had to do something to ease the passion burning inside her.

  Corwin smiled, and let his gaze linger on her breast and her restless hand. Darius was looking too. The weight of their gazes only stoked the flames inside her and urged her to gather her hardened nipple and roll it between her fingers. She realized sharply she enjoyed them watching her, knowing the sight of her made them want to touch each other.

  “Now, pay close attention, Miranda,” Corwin purred. “This is how it’s done.”

  Corwin went down on his knees. Darius ran his fingers through Corwin’s dark hair. Corwin took the shaft of Darius’s cock in his hand and bent close. He breathed on it and kissed it, as tenderly, as passionately, as he had kissed Darius’s mouth. Darius moaned and Miranda brought her other hand up, squeezing both her breasts. Corwin smiled and took Darius fully into his mouth.

  The effect on Darius was immediate. He groaned and bucked forward, thrusting himself into Corwin’s mouth. Corwin wrapped his lips tight around Darius’s shaft, taking the thrusts, letting Darius fuck his mouth. Miranda wondered if Corwin was licking him, running his tongue along that velvet-soft skin. He was fondling Darius’s balls and Darius was caressing Corwin, his neck and his shoulders. Miranda shoved one hand between her thighs and pressed her fingers into her drenched slit as if she thought that would somehow stop the throbbing and burning there, but it only inflamed her more. It was maddening, it was wonderful, touching herself while watching Corwin suck so passionately on Darius. Corwin’s cock jutted up hard and proud from between his thighs. Her pussy, her mouth, wanted a cock inside, wanted it beyond words, and all she had was her own hands. Darius groaned and arched his hips, his fingers knotting tightly in Corwin’s hair.