Claimed by the Marquis

by Carole Mortimer

  No, Sally had not expected Nicholas to fuss and fawn over her—indeed, the idea was laughable when thought of in connection with Nicholas Sefton, the haughty and arrogant Marquis of Oxbridge—but neither had she expected he would abandon her within minutes of their arrival.

  He had introduced her to his staff as a family friend, but offered no other explanation for her presence, before leaving Sally to her own devices.

  Her years of managing her own household meant she was not shy or retiring in making her needs known, but she would have preferred it if Nicholas could have delayed going out at least long enough for her to have found her feet within his household, without ruffling too many feathers. As it was, until he returned, she didn’t feel inclined to venture beyond the suite of rooms that Mrs. Jackson had told her would be hers for the duration of her visit.

  There was no denying it was a beautiful suite, comprised of this large bedchamber decorated in pale green and cream, and which had a seating area to one end overlooking the manicured gardens at the side of the house. There was also an adjoining dressing room, where Rose had already unpacked and put away or hung up her clothes and gowns.

  Rose had been with her for the past eight years, first at her parents’ home, and then she had moved to Duke Street with Sally four years ago. Her maid was also an avid listener rather than a gossip and would no doubt be able to shed some light on the intricacies of this household when she brought up the tea. Not that Sally made a habit of gossiping with her maid, but she was willing to make an exception in regard to Nicholas’s home and household.

  “I wouldn’t take it personally, my lady,” Rose assured her some time later as she gathered up the undergarments Sally had discarded before climbing into the hip bath. It had been carried into the dressing room some minutes ago by two footmen, several maids trailing behind with the hot water. “Mrs. Jackson seems to think it’s her duty in life to disapprove of everything and everyone.”

  “Why?” Sally eyed her maid curiously from where she lay back in the hot scented water.

  “Crossed in love, maybe? I very much doubt she’s a missus anything.” Rose gave a sniff.

  Sally nodded distractedly. It was the usual practice for a housekeeper to be addressed as missus, whether she had ever been married or not. “She’s a handsome-looking woman—”

  “What on earth have you been doing in this gown, my lady?” Rose exclaimed as she held up Sally’s creased traveling dress. “Looks as if you’ve rolled around in the— Ah.” The maid gave an uncomfortable wince as she saw Sally’s raised eyebrows. “His Lordship is very handsome,” she added evenly.

  “He is, yes,” Sally agreed noncommittally.

  “He sends shivers of delight down my spine just looking at him.”

  “Yes.”

  “Those wide shoulders…”

  “Yes.”

  “Muscular chest.”

  “Yes.”

  “Lean and powerful—”

  “I think if you two ladies are going to continue to extol the virtues of my body—or otherwise—that I should be allowed to do likewise in regard to yourselves, don’t you agree?”

  Rose gave an undignified shriek and clutched Sally’s already creased gown to her chest as she turned to look at Oxbridge with wide and guilty eyes.

  Sally was just as startled by Nicholas’s sudden appearance in her dressing room, not least because her nakedness was barely covered by the bathwater. But she had no intention of allowing Nicholas to see her discomfort, especially when she was still annoyed with him for abandoning her in that way. “Listeners never hear any good about themselves,” she drawled.

  “On the contrary, in this case.” Nicholas stood with a shoulder leaning against the doorframe as he drank in the sight of Sally reclining in the hip bath. What little he could see. Her golden hair was secured loosely on top of her head with a yellow ribbon, the bareness of her shoulders a creamy white. “‘Lean and powerful’…?” He looked enquiringly at the blushing maid.

  “Feet,” Sally answered him dryly. “You may go, Rose. I’ll ring for you when I wish to dress for dinner.”

  Nicholas stepped aside as the young maid sidled past him into the adjoining bedchamber and placed Sally’s discarded gown over the back of a chair before hurrying from the room. “Feet…?” He turned back to Sally.

  “I have never known Rose to be disconcerted, but I think you may have succeeded in doing so.” Golden eyes brimmed with amusement.

  “But not you?”

  The amusement faded. “No.”

  Nicholas strolled farther into the room to stand beside the bath and looked down at her. “I see you have made yourself at home?” His voice had deepened huskily as he took in the sight of Sally’s naked breasts bobbing temptingly just below the surface of the water, her nipples cherry red.

  She arched one pale eyebrow. “No thanks to you.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Those creamy shoulders shrugged. “I would have appreciated some warning before being left alone with your… With Mrs. Jackson.”

  His frown deepened. “Warning?”

  “Yes.” Sally avoided meeting his gaze as she searched for, and found, the cloth and soap in the water and began to wash her arms.

  Nicholas was not in a good mood. His mother had not woken during the rest of his visit, and so he’d had to endure the fussy company of Cousin Maud as he drank the tea she insisted on pouring for him.

  Nor was he any happier after talking to his mother’s doctor in regard to her health. The other man could offer no reason as to why Nicholas should think his mother’s health was deteriorating, claiming she was merely suffering with her nerves, as usual.

  Nicholas had insisted the doctor visit the dowager marchioness later this evening and report back to Nicholas in the morning, despite the other man’s assurances the dowager was in no worse health now than she had been a year or six months ago. Nicholas had returned home dissatisfied and still ill at ease.

  His spirits had lifted slightly when he’d entered Sally’s bedchamber a few minutes ago and realized she was bathing in the adjoining dressing room, her conversation with her maid having proved most interesting.

  Her remarks about his housekeeper were another matter, however. “Has Mrs. Jackson said something to upset you?”

  “Certainly not.” Sally continued with her washing. “She has been the height of…discretion.”

  “In regard to what?”

  “Oh please, Nicholas, do not take me for a fool.” Those golden eyes flashed as she glanced up at him. “Where did you disappear to for the past two hours? Off to visit another one of your…female acquaintances in the area, no doubt. I am only surprised you felt it necessary to bring me here with you when you already have so many women already sharing your bed—Nicholas!” The last was a protest as he bent down and scooped her out of the water, uncaring that he soaked the sleeves and front of his jacket and waistcoat as he carried her naked body through to the adjoining bedchamber.

  Sally’s accusation, coming so soon on the heels of his mother’s revelations regarding his father, was untenable. Unacceptable. Bloody insulting.

  Nicholas was furious. More furious than he had been for some time.

  Chapter 12

  “What are you doing?” Naked and squirming, Sally could only cling to Nicholas’s shoulders as he carried her through to her bedchamber. Those squirms became ones of desperation to get away as he first turned the key in the lock of the door before sitting down on the side of the bed to turn her over and land a resounding smack to one cheek of her bared bottom. “Nicholas!” Sally had never been struck in her life before, under any circumstances, and for Oxbridge to do so now was—

  He landed another resounding smack on the other cheek.

  It was—

  And another.

  And then another.

  Oh God…

  The smacks themselves were only hard enough to cause a painful sting, but the heat that followed went straigh
t to Sally’s core. Humiliatingly so, as the perfume of her arousal began to permeate the room each time Nicholas landed another stinging slap to her bared flesh.

  Flesh that was becoming more and more sensitized by the second.

  Her bottom burned, her nipples ached, the nubbin between her thighs throbbed, and the cream of her arousal was so copious, it was dampening her curls, as well as slicking her channel.

  “Nicholas, please…” Sally was unsure if her plea was for him to stop or continue. Surely it was wrong, even perverse, to enjoy having her bottom spanked?

  Nicholas’s initial anger at being so unfairly misjudged so soon after learning of his father’s adultery began to abate as he now gazed down hotly at the bare globes of Sally’s bottom, both red and glowing from his ministrations.

  His hand landed on her bottom again, just for the pleasure of watching the tremor of that flesh and the jolt of her body rubbing against his fully aroused cock.

  He wasn’t spanking Sally hard enough to really hurt her, but no doubt the slaps landing on the same piece of flesh had succeeded in magnifying the effect of those blows. In arousing her?

  Oh yes.

  He could smell the perfume of her arousal now. Feel it as he no longer spanked her but instead kneaded and squeezed that glowing flesh. His fingers moved lower, stroking between her legs, allowing him to feel how swollen the lips and nubbin were, and both of them drenched with her juices.

  Sally was most assuredly aroused, that now-familiar perfume of her arousal invading and saturating his senses.

  His fingers became very wet as he continued to stroke her, his other hand moving to cup beneath one of her dangling breasts, the nipple as plump as a berry between his fingers and thumb.

  He ceased his squeezing as she gave a hiss of discomfort. “Did I hurt you?”

  “They are still a little sore. From—from our time together the other evening.”

  Ah. Nicholas instantly caressed rather than squeezed the nipple. He had been angry earlier because of her accusations, but he had no wish to cause her real pain. He would much rather give her pleasure, whatever form that pleasure might take. Which did not mean he did not intend her to suffer a little first.

  Sally’s embarrassment deepened. Nicholas could not help but be aware of her responses to being spanked. An embarrassment that became unimportant, as Nicholas now began to stimulate her pussy and breasts at the same time.

  Closing her eyes only intensified the pleasure, and she gave a soft gasp as the moistness of Nicholas’s fingers passed lightly over the rosette between the cheeks of her bottom before moving down again to stroke her pussy and the erect nubbin above. He repeated that same caress over and over again. But always, always denying her the release building higher and higher inside her.

  “Please, Nicholas.” Her plea was a sob, her body on fire with the need for that release. “I am sorry. Whatever I have done to anger you, I am sorry!”

  He gentled those caresses to a torturous degree. “How did you come by the fantastical idea that I am fucking my own housekeeper? Answer me,” he ordered as she groaned and squirmed beneath his ministrations.

  “I—Mrs. Jackson is still a young and—and attractive woman. And she seems…disapproving of me. What else was I to assume?”

  “A word of caution, sweet Sally.” The hardness of his tone nullified the endearment. “Do not ever again make assumptions where I am concerned.” He punctuated his words with several more, harder, slaps to her bottom. “Not unless you wish to have your bottom spanked again. Which we both know you do,” he added with satisfaction.

  How could Sally deny it when he had the evidence on his fingers and the perfume of her arousal saturated the air about them? Just as she could feel the hard length of Nicholas’s arousal against her belly. “No more than you enjoy spanking me,” she came back rebelliously.

  “Oh, never mistake it, Sally, I love spanking you. The cheeks of your ass are so beautiful and red, and your tits jiggle enticingly with each slap.” He flipped her over so suddenly on his thighs that Sally gasped again, the material of his pantaloons feeling rough against the tenderness of her abused flesh. “I have not, and will not, bed any of my housekeepers,” he bit out, eyes glittering darkly. “Nor do I believe in soiling my own backyard by an entanglement of any nature, with any of the ladies living in the area.”

  Sally forgot her nakedness and her arousal as she stared up at him, slightly bewildered by the depth of his anger. She had been wrong to make such assumptions, yes, but surely Nicholas’s response was out of proportion to her crime?

  “I have apologized—”

  “I do not want your apology, only your promise that you will never make those accusations again.”

  Her throat moved as she swallowed. “I promise I will not.”

  His smile lacked humor. “Your word was too quickly given.”

  “But sincere.” Obviously, she had inadvertently touched upon a subject Nicholas found offensive. “Mrs. Jackson—”

  “Mrs. Jackson is a lady of piety and completely undeserving of your wild and unfounded accusations.” He gazed at her sternly. “Her husband was my sergeant in the army. He died saving my life at the Battle of Waterloo. They had no children or other close family with whom she might live, and no means of earning a living herself. Offering her employment and a home on one of my estates was the least I could do.”

  Sally felt ashamed of her suspicions. Just as she now recognized the reason for them as being jealousy.

  In but a few short days, she had become fond of Nicholas. Perhaps more than fond of him. So much so, the thought of him with any other woman filled her with a jealousy that rendered her thoughts and emotions illogical.

  She made another promise, to herself this time, to behave more warmly toward Mrs. Jackson in future. Without her husband’s intervention, Nicholas would not be here at all. “I really am sorry for my mistake, Nicholas.”

  “Do you believe me?”

  “If you say it is so, then it is so.” She nodded.

  He gave a hard smile. “And your suspicions regarding the reason for my having disappeared for two hours after our arrival here?”

  Her gaze dropped to his chest. “I am sure you had good reason for it.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.” Her brow creased with irritation at having her word doubted in this way. Which was no doubt how Nicholas felt at having her doubt his word.

  His jaw was tight. “My reason for going out was to first pay a call on my estate manager, followed by a duty visit to my mother at the Dower House.”

  She should have thought of that, of course. Nicholas had been in London for the whole of the Season and would not have spoken with his estate manager or seen his mother for those same months. Of course he would have wished to make those visits immediately upon his arrival.

  “I owe you no explanations, you understand?” he rasped.

  She felt irritated by his tone. “In the same way I owe you none for any of my own actions.”

  His mouth tilted wryly at her defiance. “Do not push me, Sally.”

  Her chin rose. “It cannot be one rule for you and another for me.”

  “No?”

  “No!”

  “Why do you enjoy challenging me?”

  “I don’t.” She gave a shake of her head. “I am merely stating the truth. If we are to…continue, then we have to meet as equals. I can accept no less.”

  He raised his brow. “I just spanked you until your ass glowed red.”

  Sally nodded. “And I let you. I let you, Nicholas,” she repeated as she reached up to touch the hardness of his darkened jaw, a fresh flush of arousal suffusing her body as she recalled how that stubble had added to her pleasure earlier, when Nicholas’s mouth licked and claimed her pussy.

  Sally’s gentle caress acted like a balm to Nicholas’s tumultuous emotions, the last of his anger leaving him as he realized he had been taking out his anger on her, when in reality it was directed toward his deceas
ed father.

  His mother was beautiful, she had always been beautiful, and she claimed to have loved his father once. Nicholas had never doubted his father’s love for his mother. What had gone so terribly wrong between the two of them they had lived virtually separate lives for so many years?

  And what am I doing thinking of such things when I have a naked and aroused Sally lying across my thighs?

  He gave a self-disgusted shake of his head as he put his troubled thoughts to one side, to be dealt with later, and concentrated all his attention on Sally.

  Her hair had fallen loose from its ribbon, its long length now cascading onto the floor beneath her. Her breasts were pert, her nipples engorged and once again red from his caresses. Her torso and abdomen were sleek and soft down to the golden curls at the apex of her thighs, legs long and supple.

  His gaze returned to her face. Her eyes were a deep gold, cheeks flushed, and her lips ruby red and slightly parted.

  And there was still two hours before they need think about dressing for dinner.

  For now, he would rather turn his thoughts to undressing. “I should get out of these damp clothes.”

  Her eyes widened. “You are leaving?”

  “Only if you have some objection to my undressing here?”

  She shook her head. “I believe I should enjoy it.”

  “As would I.” He helped Sally to sit up on his thighs, frowning as he saw her pained wince. “Does your bottom hurt?”

  The color deepened in her cheeks. “Yes.”

  “Badly?”

  She nodded. “But in a good way,” she acknowledged huskily.

  Nicholas slid his arms beneath her knees and shoulders before standing to place her carefully on top of the bedclothes. He placed a hand either side of her as he bent over her. “Only give me a minute to undress, and I promise to do what I can to ease your…discomfort.”

  Sally was under no illusions as to what form easing her discomfort would take, uncaring of her own nakedness as she lay back on the pillows to watch Nicholas remove his damp clothes.