by Debra Glass
“But—”
He pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. “Not now. Not right now.”
His eyes darkened. Sophia recognized the look. Desire. Her stomach fluttered and her channel tightened in anticipation.
His fingers skimmed lightly down her arm, over her hip and around her bottom, where he cupped her toward him possessively. “I haven’t yet been inside that fetching little lovebud of yours.”
Sophia sputtered a laugh. “Lovebud?”
He smiled. “Lovebud.” One eyebrow arched wickedly.
“I don’t think I’m quite ready for that,” she protested although her heart leapt at the thought of him invading her there. The little plaything he’d pushed up that hole earlier had felt far better than she ever imagined.
Jack’s eyes narrowed devilishly. “After all the spankings I’ve met out to you, I can’t believe you would dare deny me. I’m keeping count of your refusals, you naughty minx.”
He scooted out of the bed and Sophia’s mouth went dry as he headed for the chest of drawers. Her pulse seemed to beat in her throat as he returned to the bed with the leather strap and the jar of cream he’d used to lubricate her bottom before.
“Get on your knees,” he said.
She shook her head but her traitorous cunny contracted wildly.
“Twice,” he said and smirked. “That’s twice now.”
Her eyes fell to his erection. “I can’t possibly take you inside me…there.”
“Oh, three times.” He put the jar on the little table beside the bed and snapped the leather strap against his thigh. “Three, my sweet. Are you ready to get on your knees or will you protest a fourth time?”
Heat circled her rim. Deciding she could not take more than three swats with the strap, she twisted onto her knees.
“Head down,” Jack said.
Sophia dropped her head and shoulders to the mattress, knowing she was fully exposed to him. Dear Lord, what kind of woman welcomed this sort of thing?
She nearly swooned when his warm palm fondled her bum but just as she relaxed into the delectable sensation, the leather smacked her ass. She cried out as the sting coursed through her like wildfire and then abated into a slow, smoldering throb. “One,” she heard herself say, her voice muffled by the bed linen. Her toes curled as she awaited the next fall of the strap.
She did not have to wait long. Smack! “Two,” she sighed the word and gripped handfuls of the sheets. She’d never dreamed being punished could feel so wonderful. The bite of the strap made her feel alive. In some odd way, it prepared her for the pleasure to come.
Her nipples swelled and she took her breasts in her hands, pinching the tight little buds as the third blow burned through her backside. “Oh yes,” she mewled, releasing one nipple so she could reach between her legs to massage her yearning clitoris.
Jack’s fingers slathered cool goo around her rosebud and she tensed. “No, love,” he coaxed. “Relax. This will give you pleasure. I promise you.”
Panic swamped her. “But—”
“Remember your word,” he told her, pushing a finger inside her.
The finger felt…good. Oh, so good. She relaxed as he explored her and when he finally removed his hand and climbed onto the bed behind her, she was ready for him.
Or so she thought.
The head of his cock nudged her nether hole and she ached to feel him inside her but when he breached her rim, she bit her bottom lip to keep from begging him to stop. White-hot pain shot around the opening.
“Relax, sweet,” he cooed.
“I can’t.”
“Relax. Let me inside you,” he said. “God, you’re tight.”
Her breaths came in short pants. “Jack…”
His fingers squeezed the soft flesh of her ass. “Put your fingers in your cunny,” he rasped. “I want you to know where my cock is.”
She slid a finger into her wet channel as he trespassed farther. “Oh!” she cried but he was all the way inside. The pain subsided and in its wake was pure bliss.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes, yes,” she moaned. “Fuck me, Jack. Fuck my ass.”
His fingers trembled as he gripped her and began to piston her hole. Sophia spiraled as she worked her hungry clitoris. Her thighs trembled and just when she thought she would cry “stop” ecstasy consumed her. Her body clamped down around him until he stopped moving and somewhere in the sweet solace of passion she realized his cries mingled with hers.
* * * * *
“You can’t very well call him out,” Elinor told Lord Wisbech. “He’s a sure shot and would most likely kill you.”
“Blast it! Don’t you think I’ve considered that?” He paced.
Elinor watched him. Lord Wisbech was as fair as Jack was dark and where Jack boasted an almost coarse build, Lord Wisbech was fashionably elegant. Attired in a bright lemon frockcoat and bone breeches, he was the epitome of an English gentleman. He wore his flaxen hair swept back and tied with a narrow black ribbon. Brass buckles gleamed on his pumps and the lace at his cuffs floated exquisitely over his well-shaped hands and jeweled fingers. Another flourish of lace jutted from his collar. Elinor had never seen a better dressed man.
He certainly hid the fact that his funds were seriously depleted very well. Elinor knew better than to suggest he file a breach of promise suit. He might entertain the notion of having her retain his legal representation for her part in bringing the two lovers together.
“Maybe irony will play a part and a highwayman will do him in,” Lord Wisbech mused.
Elinor stared as a wicked idea played in her thoughts. “What if that highwayman were you?”
Lord Wisbech’s gaze collided with Elinor’s and her lips drew into a smile. She continued. “No one would question a highwayman murdering a gentleman. Outlaws are rife along the roads to and from London.”
“Are you suggesting I masquerade as a highwayman and kill Lord Stafford?” Lord Wisbech asked.
Elinor shifted on the settee and stroked her snoring pug’s head. Wisbech was enraged enough to kill Jack and Elinor was surprised that she felt no qualms about persuading the duke to go through with it. This was like a game—a game she was determined to win.
Although she had not been publicly humiliated as Lord Wisbech had been, Jack’s rebuke and blatant interest in his little virginal lover had been an insult that Elinor could not ignore.
When she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she saw an aging woman. Not even heavy powder could conceal her wrinkles. When she removed her wig, she noticed increasingly thinning hair. Her once-renowned beauty faded day by day and Elinor knew it.
She did not relish a future as an aging dowager who sang the praises of glory days long past and Jack’s disinterest was only one more step toward the inevitable. A cold chill crawled up her spine as she lifted her gaze from the sleeping dog. “Yes. I am suggesting you kill Lord Stafford. Do what you like with his whore but after what she’s done to you, I should think you’d like to see her dead and buried as well.”
Lord Wisbech pursed his lips and began pacing once more. Elinor held her breath as she waited for the gleam to appear in the duke’s eyes—the confirmation he would go through with it and put an end to Jack and his doxy.
“I don’t know…” he mused.
“If I were you,” Elinor prodded, “I would want to sample what Lord Stafford stole from me.”
Wisbech stopped pacing. Turning, he stared.
Elinor leaned slightly forward. “I would want her to know what she so carelessly tossed away.”
A smile curled his thin lips. Triumph surged as Elinor watched the sparks flash in Wisbech’s eyes.
* * * * *
“I don’t want to leave either,” Jack said and pressed a kiss to Sophia’s forehead.
Although every muscle in her body ached and she was completely raw between the legs, Sophia could not bear the thought of leaving the hunting lodge. Panic welled every time she thought about putting that h
orrid wedding gown back on. But since it was the only garment she had to wear, she had no choice. Partly, she feared where they would go. To Jack’s house?
How could she go there and pretend to be his wife when she was merely a mistress? Knowing Lady Hilda would be moving in and taking her place as Lady Stafford caused a knot to well in Sophia’s throat. She’d thought she resigned herself to the fact that he was promised to another—but accepting a situation and liking a situation were two different things.
“We’ve no food,” Jack said as he slipped his shirt over his head. Standing in his bare feet and wearing nothing but his breeches and voluminous white shirt, Sophia found him more handsome than ever.
“I…I can’t wear that,” she said pointing to the heap of fabric that was her wedding gown.
Jack looked at the pile of rainwater stained cloth and then back at her. “What if I give you two more days?”
Heedless of her own nudity, she bolted upright in the bed. “Would you?”
He crossed the short distance to her and reached out to caress one of her breasts. “I can go and gather a few provisions and something for you to wear. Would that please you?”
She climbed onto her knees and embraced him. “Yes! Oh yes!”
His mouth sought hers and his hands roamed over her back and down over her buttocks. Sophia melted in his embrace, opening her lips to his intruding tongue. She moaned into his mouth. Joy filled her. Two more days! She could scarcely believe it. No one had ever treated her so well.
He tore his mouth from hers. “I ought to tie you up and fill your bum up with that cattail while I’m gone.”
She clenched at the thought of it. “How long will you be gone?”
“No more than a couple of hours,” he told her.
“I have a better idea,” she told him. “I will bathe while you are gone and await your return. Then you can bend me over your knee and punish me thoroughly.”
His hand covered hers and he pushed it over his burgeoning arousal. “Look what you’ve done. I won’t survive two more days here with you.”
She gave him a squeeze before guiding his hand between her own legs where she knew she’d grown wet for him. “Look what you’ve done to me,” she said coquettishly.
He hooked one hand under her leg and pulled her down on her back before he undid the fall of his breeches. Sophia sighed happily as he dragged her to the edge of the bed and plunged into her.
He was not gentle. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips, holding her thighs open wide for his frenzied assault. The muscles in his jaw clenched. Perspiration beaded on his upper lip. His gaze fixed on the place where they were connected. He pummeled her, hard and fast, his thrusts forcing the air from her lungs.
Taking charge of her own pleasure, Sophia found her clitoris and she rubbed furiously until the spasms racked her body and she heard herself crying his name. Still wresting the last shard of pleasure from her pearl, she watched through hooded lids as he withdrew and jacked his cock, spewing a shimmering ribbon of semen onto her belly.
Breathing heavily, he leaned on the bed. “Damn, woman!” he gasped. “I love watching you touch yourself.” He blew out a breath and grinned.
Sophia pushed herself back in the bed and then crawled under the covers. If he was going to be away for two hours, a nap would make the time go by far faster.
Jack eyed her as he did up his breeches. “You’ll be the death of me,” he teased and then his face grew serious. “Do you know how to fire a pistol?”
“Me?” she asked. “No.”
He lifted the flintlock pistol he’d placed on a shelf. “This is loaded and packed. You have only to aim and pull back the trigger,” he said as he put it on the table beside the bed.
Sophia gaped. “Surely I won’t be needing it.”
“I don’t expect anyone to trespass on Stafford lands but a stray hunter or two pass through on occasion. While they would not tangle with me, I don’t know what they’d do upon finding an alluring and naked woman all alone.” His expression softened as if he realized he’d frightened her. “Not to worry, love. This lodge is well hidden. You will be safe here.”
She nodded.
“Are you certain you don’t want to accompany me back to the manor? I can send someone to London to procure an apartment for you straightaway,” he said.
“No!” she said, clamoring for the two days more he’d promised her.
He brushed his palm over her hair. “Very well, my pet. I will return as quickly as possible. After he tucked his shirt into his breeches, he leaned over her and pressed a kiss to her forehead before he finished dressing. He bade her a quick farewell and then galloped away.
The tiny lodge seemed desolate without him. Already, Sophia’s heart ached. Dismally, she realized this is how she would feel every time he left her company. Even though she knew he would return shortly, she felt empty. And yet, possessing at least a tiny part of Jack was far better than being Duchess of Wisbech.
Maybe it didn’t matter that she would never be his wife. She would never have to perform the duties expected of a wife or worry about society any longer. Since her coming out, she’d never cared much for society, not having grasped the nuances and intricacies needed to shine. She’s much preferred the company of a good book to a gossiping girlfriend.
She closed her eyes and wiggled her toes under the covers, wondering what her future would hold. Everything had been carefully planned for her and she’d thrown it all away when she’d taken Jack’s hand and climbed into the saddle with him.
Now her destiny was uncertain but she welcomed whatever lay in store for her. As long as she was with Jack nothing else much mattered.
* * * * *
Laden with serviceable clothing for Sophia and provisions enough to last them two more days, Jack whistled to himself as his horse sauntered back down the road toward the hunting lodge. Even his manservant, dour old Hobbes, had remarked on Jack’s light mood.
He’d never felt this way before. Carefree. Smitten with the idea of stripping off his clothing and crawling back into that bed with Sophia. Darkly, he wondered what cruel twist of fate had crossed their stars. If only he’d met her before his arrangement with Lady Hilda and before Sophia’s contract with Lord Wisbech…
Impatient, he urged the horse on faster. Already his brain was scheming up ways to persuade Lady Hilda to cry off.
“What the devil are you thinking?” he asked himself aloud when he realized what he was doing. His horse snorted as if in response. Jack patted the animal on the neck. He was actually entertaining thoughts of marrying Sophia—imagining her as mistress of Amberley and the mother of his children! He shook his head as if he could dispel his wild imagination. Circumstances made a marriage to Sophia impossible. He had a responsibility to his estate, to his title. Sophia was…well, she was…
A winsome smile played on his lips. Sophia was beautiful. She was daring. She was amorous. I love you…
A shudder tore up his spine at the memory of her unguarded confession. At that moment, he’d vowed to himself to stop toying with her. After all, he was the libertine—the one experienced in such matters. He knew better than to entertain notions of love.
He exhaled roughly. He’d been surprised there hadn’t been a hailstorm of gossip regarding Sophia’s disappearance on her wedding day. And Hobbes, professional that he was, did not even flinch when Jack had assigned him the task of finding a lavish apartment in London. Surely the old man knew what Jack was up to.
Doubtless, Lady Huntingdon had spread talk of the scandal all over the countryside. It only stood to reason that she would muddy both their names, especially since she obviously felt slighted.
But why hadn’t the news reached Amberley? Jack’s gaze lingered on the Armageddon’s mane. Something was amiss. Terribly amiss.
“Stand and deliver!” a taunting exclamation arrested Jack’s attention.
His gaze shot to the source of the voice—and to where two pistols were trained on hi
m. Surprised, but not shocked, Jack stared at Lord Wisbech.
Jack tugged Armageddon’s reins and the horse nickered as he halted. “Shall we settle this like gentlemen?” Jack asked.
Wisbech burst into mirthless laughter. “Gentlemen? Gentlemen?”
Immediately, Jack began scanning the desolate road. Woods lined either side. There were no sounds of any approaching carriages or riders. Wisbech was angry. Justifiably so. Jack dragged in a deep breath. He hadn’t really thought Wisbech had anything of this nature in him. He’d assumed that the duke would quietly set his sights on another bride with a handsome dowry. Evidently, that wasn’t the case.
“Was it gentlemanly of you to abscond with my bride right under my nose?” Lord Wisbech sneered.
“That was an unfortunate mistake, Your Grace,” Jack said, still grasping to assess his predicament.
“Perhaps,” Lord Wisbech agreed. “But what about the second time? I’ve heard all about how you plotted to disgrace me on my very wedding day.”
“Plotted?” Jack asked, realizing Lady Huntingdon had indeed been scheming. At this point, there was nothing he could say to placate the duke.
“Yes. Lady Huntingdon overheard you. Again, very ungentlemanly of you, Stafford.”
“There was no plot,” Jack said, eyeing the pistols warily.
Wisbech snorted. His white stallion took a menacing step closer. “You expect me to believe you abducted her against her will?”
“No,” Jack said, becoming angry. “It’s very simple to understand. She preferred a life as my mistress rather than spending one day as your wife.”
Wisbech’s pale face blanched and time seemed to move at half speed as he aimed one of the pistols and fired. The explosion of gunpowder shattered the summer birdsong. Armageddon reared and shrieked as the bullet tore into his shoulder.
At once, Jack dismounted the injured animal and started toward Wisbech intent on beating him bloody beyond recognition but Wisbech leveled his second pistol on Jack and fired.
Chapter Ten
Sophia had no idea how long Jack had been gone but her nerves knotted in anticipation of his return. She climbed out of the creek and twisted her hair to ring the water out of it. Two more days. She smiled when she thought about it.
