Moses laughed and twisted the thing, pressing it deeply into her body as Liam stroked her core. She whimpered at the mix of pleasure and agony as trickles of arousal dripped, coating her inner thighs with slippery dampness. The heat from the lash coupled with the burning from her bottom sent her spiraling into pleasure, and she shuddered as, awash in sensation, she reached her climax.
It stole her breath, that massive thing barreling down upon her. Had she not been blindfolded, she was sure it would have stolen her sight, too. Tears dampened the blindfold as she sobbed, the last twinges of pleasure and Liam's fingers sending shock waves through her body. Hands soft and gentle upon her flesh, they stroked her back and shoulders, brushing her sweat-damp hair away as they comforted her. One of them pulled the thing from her bottom and she sighed in relief at the absence. Yet she had to admit to herself that she missed the sensation.
Moses hoisted her limp body into his arms and they settled her on the couch, one on either side as they petted her. Hands untied the scarf obscuring her vision, and she sniffed as Liam used it to gently wipe her face under her mask. Moses tipped her chin up, kissing her as he dried the last of her tears.
"Do you see now, my lady? There can be much pleasure found in those games, but you must find the right partner and teach him what you like." He wrapped a soft cashmere blanket around her shoulders, tucking her in as Liam put a velvet pillow under her head.
"Rest now. No one will disturb you here."
"Moses?"
"Do you need further assistance?"
"No, thank you. But I want to thank you both for your attentions." She yawned widely, letting her head sink back to the pillow.
"It was our pleasure, I assure you. Your master will seek you out eventually, but you may rest here until he does."
She nodded and shut her eyes, wishing she dared remove the mask.
∞∞∞
Strong arms picked her up from her nest on the strange sofa, and she squirmed in alarm, her fists flying as she struggled.
She tried to scream, but a large hand covered her mouth, turning her face until she looked into her husband's blue eyes. She relaxed, the sudden rush of fear leaving her along with her strength.
"Shh, pet. I'm taking you home."
"Where is Lady Angeline?"
"She left."
"But—"
"I don't wish to talk about it right now. We'll discuss it in the morning."
She swallowed back the questions she'd been about to ask. Had they fought? Elizabeth couldn't believe it would be so easy to get rid of Angeline. Surely, the witch would return. Richard left the soft blanket wrapped around her, and hustled her into his carriage. The horses were away almost before the groom shut the door.
This time, he didn't push her between his knees. Instead, he settled her into his lap, stroking her hair as he held her protected against the jostling movement of the carriage. He said nothing, and she wanted to break the uncomfortable silence. Yet the sternly fixed expression on his face stopped her.
She dozed off, her body aching and tired, and filled with sadness she couldn't explain. It was a poignant sensation; that state of consciousness halfway between lucidity and dreaming, a place where all things possessed possibility and thought ran wild.
Witches and husbands and strange men who called themselves friends. Slaves who were more gentlemanly than men who strutted around in frock coats and ties. It was all a muddle in her head, and she closed her eyes against a slight headache lodged in her temples.
Not a moment too soon, they reached their home and Richard carried her straight to bed, stripping down to join her between the sheets. With a soft curse, he removed her mask and slippers, and stripped away the thin fabric covering her before he settled down and pulled her into his arms, cradling her body against his warm chest.
She was asleep before he started snoring.
∞∞∞
Her overly full bladder prodded her awake as someone threw open the chamber door with a resounding crash.
Angeline stood in the doorway, her hair askew, disheveled as if she'd run her fingers through it. Or someone else had. Elizabeth had no idea where the thought had come from, yet the more she examined Angeline, the surer she was about her new hypothesis.
The witch had taken a paramour last night. And it hadn't been Richard. Her skin was flushed, and there were dark smears on her burgundy gown where the fabric had gotten wet. She was missing a stocking, and the buttons of her bodice were askew. The paint she'd applied to her full lips was caked and streaked all the way down her neck as if someone had started at her lips and worked his way down. Perhaps it had been another woman, but Elizabeth was absolutely sure Angeline had made love to someone last night.
"How dare you!" She lifted a shaking finger to point at Richard, but he merely arched an eyebrow. " Your little guttersnipe wife wandered off, and then you started talking to that whore, Lady Ennis."
She stomped into the room, tossing her slippers into the corner. "And then you left me when I was with Roddy!"
Elizabeth hid under the covers. She had no desire to be dragged into this lover's spat!
"All true, I'm afraid." He sat up, unabashedly nude. "The difference is that I didn't fuck Lady Ennis in a public place." He chuckled wryly. "Or Roddy, for that matter. My proclivities do not tend toward round little toads with small cocks."
He stretched and lounged back into the bed, stroking Elizabeth's hip. "The truth is, I didn't engage in any activities last night."
"Poppycock! You sent your ill-bred whore away and yelled at me. And where did the little brat go?"
"I sent her with Denforth. You planned on exposing her face to that crowd."
Angeline went silent and Elizabeth risked a peek around the sheets. Angeline's face was pale and her mouth worked for a moment as if she tried to think of a lie to tell.
It was all quite entertaining and Elizabeth had to press her face into her pillow to help muffle her silent laughter. It would not do to let either of them see her mirth. Despite her joy at finding cracks in the relationship between her husband and his wicked mistress, she could not relax her guard for a single second until Angeline was gone.
"Go get yourself cleaned up. We'll discuss it over breakfast." He looked Angeline up and down and chuckled. "When you're more presentable."
Angeline screeched angrily and stomped from the room as Elizabeth winced. The witch could shatter glass with that voice. Richard tugged the sheet away and kissed her nose.
"Thank you for being quiet, pet. You did very well. I doubt she even noticed you."
"Thank you, my lord."
"Let's both get cleaned up for breakfast. You may have a bath if you like."
"No, I'm quite hungry. I will take my meal outside if you prefer."
"No. You will share a meal with me, if not Angeline. I wish for your company."
"Very well, my lord." She climbed from the bed and squeaked when he slapped her bottom.
"Get dressed before I take you back to bed. You're entirely too enticing with my mark on your bottom."
Chapter 14
There is nothing nobler or more admirable than when two people who see eye to eye keep house as man and wife, confounding their enemies and delighting their friends.
Homer
His words made her belly clench in a mix of nausea and anticipation as she hurried into the bathing chamber, grabbing a clean chemise on her way. She wondered if she should have gotten a dress or a suit of armor. Richard's hungry gaze had been rather feral. She hurried through her ablutions and returned to the bedroom, smoothing the chemise over her thighs.
Richard stood and tugged a dress from the wardrobe. "Wear this. I find I don't want anyone else seeing you."
She blinked in surprise but obediently slipped the yellow muslin over her head and tied the laces. He pulled trousers over his narrow hips, buttoning them haphazardly, and tossed a white shirt over his head. He didn't bother with a wash.
Tucking her hand over his arm
with a small smile, he led her down the stairs and into the morning room. She inhaled deeply of the pleasant odor of eggs, toast, spicy marmalade, and sweet porridge with cream.
There was no meat. Not even a single rasher of bacon or a scrap of ham. No sausages or chops or… Her knees went weak, and she would have collapsed if not for her hold on Richard's arm.
"Come. I want you to have a substantial breakfast today."
"I–. Thank you, my lord," she whispered as tears pricked at her eyes. How long had it been since anyone had done something so thoughtful for her? When she'd been very young, their cook once made her a special pudding for her birthday, but she couldn't remember a single instance from her adulthood.
Had he managed to rid himself of Angeline’s spell? The thought made her giddy, but she could not ask without risking her baby.
He held her chair as she sat before moving to take the place across from her. He was silent as he concentrated on filling her plate, yet he took nothing for himself.
She'd gobbled down several bites of the delicious scrambled eggs laced with sharp cheese and bits of roasted asparagus before noticing he hadn't begun to eat. "Will you join me, my lord? I'm sure there's plenty."
"No, this is all for you."
She stared in shock at the spread laid out in front of her. "This is too much for one person. Why there's enough for three!"
Chuckling, he said, "There are two of you, remember? Eat your breakfast, Lady Shepton."
Angeline's sneering voice intruded into their amicable meal, and Elizabeth hid her frown as she set her fork on her plate.
"Look at you," Angeline purred maliciously. "You're sitting at the table, dressed and eating with a fork, acting well above your station." She flounced over, shoving Elizabeth until she nearly fell from her chair.
"Where is that worthless bloody cook?" She glanced around and waved imperiously at the footman. "Make that lazy cow bring out a large plateful of bacon. I want some of those lovely blood sausages, too." She smirked at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth felt her gorge rise at the mere mention but swallowed it down and lowered her head. Richard had been kind, but that did not mean she could lower her guard for a single instant around the witch. She slid from her chair to the floor and knelt obediently, head lowered to her hands clenched in her lap.
"George, you will not bring any meat into this room. Lady Angeline can eat what's put in front of her."
"Yes, my lord." The footman returned to his post in the corner, studiously ignoring the scene.
"I liked you much better when you were unspeakably cruel to the little slave." Angeline folded her arms, sulking as she ignored the food. "You've spoiled her rotten, and now she's not even a good pet."
"That was before I saw the swelling in her belly yesterday. How long did you plan to keep it from me?"
Elizabeth peeked at him from under her lashes. He leaned back in his chair, but he looked watchful and alert.
"Stubborn man. I wrote you a letter. It isn’t my fault you don’t read your mail." She picked up a scone and tossed it to the floor in front of Elizabeth. "Eat, naughty pet. It appears I can't beat you like I want, but I can still treat you like the cur you are."
“A letter, Angeline? You trusted such information to a letter that might take days to arrive?”
Richard jerked his attention away from Angeline as a tremendous crash sounded from the foyer. It gave Angeline enough time to kick Elizabeth viciously. She cried out in pain as he rushed from the room.
Raised voices came from the direction he'd run but Elizabeth couldn't make out the words. She was too busy trying to avoid the witch's feet. She heard more shouting and thudding sounds followed by pained grunts.
Angeline huffed out a breath and grabbed Elizabeth by the hair, pulling her to her feet. "I'm sure this disturbance is your fault. Let's go see what mischief you've been up to so you can be properly disciplined."
Elizabeth winced at the tug on her hair, but held in her laughter as she heard her father's angry shouts. The witch was absolutely right. This mischief was entirely her doing.
Angeline stormed from the morning room and stopped abruptly, staring at Elizabeth's father in shocked dismay. When Sir James saw her, his whole face lit up like a sunrise, and he scrambled around a footman much faster than a man of his age and bulk should have been able to.
He caught Angeline in his arms, kissing her face. "Oh, my sweet Angela. Why did you not return? I did as you asked, and you never came back to me even after my wife died. We were to have been together, you and I." She turned her face away when he tried to kiss her mouth.
His brow wrinkled. "How is it that you haven't aged a day? It's been over twenty-five years, darling Angela!"
Elizabeth held in a gasp of surprise as Lord Denforth stepped forward. She could not understand why he would be here.
"That's a very good question—Angela. Would you like to share how that could be?"
Angeline struggled out of Elizabeth's father's arms. "Bloody hell, James! Leave off, you decrepit blighter! I have no idea what I ever saw…" Her voice trailed off as she took note of the people around her, yet the damage had already been done.
Ignoring Michael, she rushed toward Richard. "Darling, it's not what it looks like! You know I had to leave Denforth when he became unreasonably demanding. He’s simply trying to harm me! And I’ve never seen that fat old fool in my life!"
Richard held up a hand, stopping her in her tracks. "I'm not sure what it looks like. But I do know that I want you out of my house as soon as you've packed."
"A moment, Shepton," Michael murmured. "Sir James, could you tell us if you had another child, aside from Elizabeth?"
Her father paled, his skin glistening with a sheen of perspiration. Pressing his lips together, he shook his head.
Elizabeth allowed herself a small, vindictive smirk as she stared at Angeline. "His name was Gabriel. He died in infancy when my father's mistress slit his throat in front of my mother." She bared her teeth and took a step forward. “My mother described you perfectly, witch, right down to your unusual eye color, and wrote exactly how you killed my brother in her journal. You have no more power here, and I want you out of my house.”
Angeline screeched, black smoke rising from the floor to surround her, eddying and swirling around her. Her face sagged into jowls and wrinkles and black eyes stared out at them, filled with malevolence. Her mouth opened into a cavern of blackened teeth, her tongue split down the middle into a fork. She hissed, the sound sending chills down Elizabeth's body.
"Little bitch! Yes! I took your brother! And I will have that mongrel bred spawn in your belly the minute I can tear the whelp from your body!" With an angry scream, she vanished, leaving behind reeking smoke that fouled the air.
Richard and her father both fell to their knees, retching. Elizabeth knew what was coming and rushed over to grab a long stick of firewood from the hearth. "Open that damned door!" she shouted. Michael raced to obey.
Her father's geas came out first. It was a tiny, wizened thing, shriveled and dry like the husk of a viper's discarded skin. It floated up into the air, and she batted it out the door where it puffed into a tiny cloud of black mist in the sunlight.
Richard struggled, his eyes bulging as he gagged, choking against the mass pressing upon his windpipe. With a howl of pain, he expelled it. Rolling to his side, he choked out a breath and coughed, the sound tearing and rough. The awful mass hovered for a split second before swelling until it was the size of a pony, and tendrils shot out to ensnare him once more.
Utter terror froze Elizabeth for a moment. The thing was massive! How had it gotten so large when hers had been so small? When one tendril tried to snake its way into Richard's mouth, she let out a cry of rage. She would tolerate no more of the hag’s wickedness in her home!
She swung at the evil thing, but it only moved a few feet. Michael tried to help with another stick of wood, and working together, they slowly drove it toward the sunlight.
“
Elizabeth! Watch out!”
She glanced over at Richard as he struggled to rise. He coughed hoarsely and pointed, but her moment of inattention cost her.
A black tendril shot out from the evil mass, snaring her ankle. She fell back with a cry, but Richard pulled at the thing, turning his head away when it tried to capture him. Using her stick, she beat at it, screaming her fury as she and Richard forced it outside.
The foul thing expanded once more until it filled the whole front porch before exploding, the concussive force sending her flying into the stone wall beside the open door. Blinding pain lanced through her head, and she knew nothing else.
∞∞∞
The room was quite warm and her head hurt. She was also desperately thirsty and needed to visit the necessary badly. All in all, it was a bloody unpleasant way to wake up. She sat up and clutched her head, her fingers finding bandages. Her vision was blurred, but she saw the familiar furnishings and appointments of the lord's chamber.
Good. The commode would be close. She got to her feet and had to hold onto the bed for a moment while her nausea abated. Her hand pressed against her belly, finding it still round and plump with her baby and covered with a ghastly cotton nightgown with scratchy lace all the way up to her chin. The door opened as she was trying to work up the nerve to cross the floor to the bathing chamber.
"Bloody hell! Elizabeth, sit down before you fall down!"
Her husband. Now that the spell was gone from him, she could find out if he was worth keeping. "Do shut up, Richard. I have a wretched headache, and I have to use the necessary. Either help me or call a maid to clean up the mess. I also want you to send for the physician to make sure my baby is well."
Laughter sounded from the door, and she tried to focus her blurry vision. The sight of Michael and her father resolved itself, and she blinked, sure she'd been blinded by whatever had struck her head.
Wicked Deception (Wicked Magic Book 1) Page 16
