by Tia Siren
“I can’t go back down there,” she said softly, and the Duke laughed as he moved to lay next to her.
“Take a moment, they’ll never know,” he said.
“You ripped my small clothes.”
“Well, don’t make love with anyone else, and they won’t know you aren’t wearing any,” he said with a wink.
“That’s what you call that? Making love?” Annabelle asked.
“What would you call it?” Bertram asked.
“Being used,” Annabelle said with a grin to the man. “But I enjoyed it.”
“Marry me my sweet lady. Marry me, and I will use you often.”
Annabelle began to laugh. “I should return.”
“Are you going to speak with Duke Blackburn?”
Annabelle nodded. “Does that bother you?”
“No. He may speak to you. With his words or with his manhood. If anything, I am confident that my cock can speak better than any man’s.”
Annabelle smiled as she stood up. She kept her skirt hiked above her hips as she bent to retrieve her torn small clothes. She wiped his semen off of her bottom with the small clothes, and then dropped them back to the floor. Certainly some servant was in for surprise on the next morrow.
“I like your confidence, Bertram,” the young girl said.
“And I like you and your body,” the Duke said, shocking Annabelle and making her blush.
They worked in silence to make themselves presentable, and then she left first to return to the party. Bertram would wait a few moments and then follow her down.
Chapter 5
Annabelle found Duke Blackburn dancing with another young woman and so she waited in his line of view until the dance had finished. She was glad when he dismissed the other woman and approached her.
“Would you care to dance?” the man asked her.
“I would rather speak with you,” Annabelle said.
“Very well. How about a stroll through the garden, if it would not make you too cold?”
“Yes,” Anna said, nodding.
The air was chill, but the Duke gave her his jacket, and it was a nice stroll. The garden on the grounds was beautiful and secluded, and they were the only ones walking in it, except for Mrs. Clack 20 paces behind them. They found a bench near a fountain and sat. Anna expected the Duke to ask her for a kiss and she was quite dismayed when he did not.
“Why do you want to marry me?” Annabelle said as they looked at one another. “I fear you do not find me beautiful.”
Duke Blackburn laughed. “Who says I don’t find you beautiful?”
“Duke Sutherland was quite forward with his compliments.”
“I want a many great things from you,” Duke Blackburn said. “You are beautiful, and I desire you greatly, but I am slightly older than Duke Sutherland, and I must confess that I’ve learned, desire often grows with love.”
“You desire me?”
“I do.”
“I’m yours, if you’ll take me.”
“And I would. But I want you on our wedding night, and not a moment before. But I will give you something of me,” he added, and they leaned together and kissed. Where Bertram was rough and passionate, Duke Blackburn was soft and tender. There was still passion there, but the kiss was electrifying in a way the other man’s wasn’t. He felt as though he was holding back, and it made Annabelle want him even more. When he broke away she leaned forward, stealing one more kiss.
“Please,” she said after planting her lips on his but then breaking it again. “I want you to want me.”
“I do,” the Duke said in a whisper. His voice brushed her ears sensually. She could feel his desire, and she put a hand on his leg, and her fingertips could sense the bulge at his crotch.
“Take me.”
“I will. If we are married.”
“You’re saving yourself for marriage?” the young woman asked.
“I am not. I am saving you for marriage,” he said.
Annabelle had never wanted anything more in her life. She desired him, wanted him to tear her clothes off, to make love to her under the moon. She knew he would make love to her. Bertram had fucked her. Duke Blackburn would not do that. His hands would be soft, electric like his kisses.
“Take me,” Annabelle said again.
“Marry me.”
Anna began to feel frustrated. She had just had a man inside her, but here she was, her loins screaming for Duke Blackburn, and he would not give in to her. It drove her wild.
“Please,” she begged.
“Marry me,” he said again.
Anna stood up and huffed. She spun on the man. “You are pig headed!” she said, suddenly angry, unable to think clearly. She wanted the man inside her so badly.
Duke Blackburn laughed, which made her even madder, and she spun and rushed for the manor.
She went upstairs, wishing to be alone, and found another room, drawing room of sorts with a balcony. She went outside and stood in the breeze. She still had Duke Blackburn’s jacket around her shoulders, and she held it around her.
“There you are,” a voice said, and she turned to see Bertram.
“I do not wish to speak,” she said.
“Things did not go well with Duke Blackburn? Then I am the winner, am I not?”
Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “No, you are not. I enjoyed what we did, and I will never regret it, as long as I live. But to you, I am just another warm woman in a cold bed, am I not? You will never stop doing what you do, and I don’t think I wish to be a wife who sits at home alone, while another woman warms you.”
“That’s not fair,” Bertram started.
“Goodnight, Duke Sutherland,” Annabelle said shortly, and the man knew not to argue. He left, and she turned to gaze out at the grounds again.
She never heard Duke Blackburn sneak up upon her, indeed didn’t know he was there until he was wrapping his arms around her from behind. He pushed against her, and she felt his penis harden against the cheeks of her ass, the cheeks which Bertram had expelled the contents of his testicles across. Knowing that she had so freshly been penetrated, and having another man harden against it, it made her slicken once more down there, and made her knees weak.
“I want you,” Duke Blackburn said against the nape of her neck, and then he was kissing her there. It made her flesh tingle, and then his hand dipped down, and he was gathering her skirt up. When he felt her, he made no mention of the fact that she wore no smallclothes. She was wet, and his fingertip found her clitoris, tucked under a fold of skin. It sent shockwaves through her system.
“I thought you did not wish to make love to me,” she groaned.
“Then you were not listening. I do, but I will not. Still, there are other things I could do,” he said. The man used his hands to turn her around, and he held her skirt out to her. She held it up and he knelt down. He lifted one leg over his shoulder, and then his lips were against the lips between her legs.
His tongue lapped along her slit, and then pushed into her. She groaned and moaned. He flicked the tip of his tongue against her clitoris, and Anna used her free hand to grip the short hair on the back of his head.
“Oh my,” she said, and it was all she could think while the man brought her to an orgasm that was more intense than the one she had had just half an hour ago. When he was done the man stood up, and helped her smooth her skirt down.
“Marry me,” he said again, and she threw her arms around him and kissed him. She tasted herself, and it made her smile. Duke Blackburn was giving. He was kind, and gentle, and he had made her feel like no man ever had, or ever would.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I will, under one condition.”
“What is that?” he asked.
“Don’t stop doing that, even after we marry.”
Duke Blackburn laughed and kissed his young fiance on the cheek. “I will not,” he promised.
****
THE END
A Lady’s Love – A Regency Romance
&
nbsp; Sedgefield House was a magnificent English manor house, set in ninety acres of beautiful parkland. Lord Wallace, its occupant, had a seat in the House of Lords, and was the chairman of the company his father had founded over fifty years ago, Wallace Stock Brokers Ltd.
''What do you think, Emily? The roof is leaking, do you want to have it repaired now or after the winter has finished?''
His wife put down the book she was reading, and looked at him. ''Peter, I really don't know. Perhaps you could decide. Ask the builder what he thinks.''
''Alright, I'll see to it. It's just that you bought this house, and I always feel I should ask you when we need to repair something.''
''My dear, there really is no need for you to consult me. This house is yours, not mine. The law of the land clearly states that any fortune brought by a woman to a marriage automatically becomes her husband’s. It’s yours to do what you like with. When your late father and my father arranged for us to be married, it was for a sole purpose. That my wealth may help you after the financial crisis left you bereft of funds.” Emily paused. “Since our wedding three years ago, I have come to love you beyond imagination, all I have is yours and always will be.''
Peter Wallace looked at his wife. She was very beautiful and only twenty five, eight years his junior. She had blonde hair with ringlets, which dropped down the side of her head, framing her face beautifully. She was quite tall and slender, and her green eyes pierced every man's heart. When she'd bought Sedgefield House, she had spent almost a year redecorating and refurnishing it. It was now a beautiful home, and a very comfortable one.
In the evenings they often sat together in the drawing room. It was a long room with a beautiful fire place. On winter evenings, they were kept warm and cozy by enormous fires. They sat on separate sofas, each close to the fire. Their two Labradors, Milly and Flossy always fought for the warmest place, as they huddled down for the evening.
Shortly before bedtime, Joseph the butler came into the room, and asked Lord Wallace if he would like a nightcap. He usually partook of a whiskey before bed. This evening he did not.
''I'm tired, I'm going up. Will you come too?'' Emily asked him, hoping he would say yes.
''No, I want to finish this article. You go ahead. I'll be up shortly.''
Emily climbed the grand staircase, which led directly from the hallway up to the first floor. The landing was long. There were five polished mahogany doors on each side. Emily opened the third on the left, and went inside.
''Good evening, Mary,'' Emily said to the maid who was waiting for her.
''Good evening, my lady, I have prepared your bath and put out a clean night gown.''
Emily stood in the middle of the room as Mary undid her evening dress. It was a large room with a huge four poster bed, and a fireplace on the opposite wall. Mary had stoked the fire, and as Emily bathed, it crackled cozily. When Emily got out of the bath, Mary dried her and slipped her nightgown over her head.
After Mary had gone, Emily lay under the fresh bed sheets, and looked at the fire. She so wanted Peter to come up to bed. She waited as long as she could for him, but sleep overcame her and she drifted away. When Peter came to bed, it was one in the morning. Emily woke when he rolled under the covers next to her.
She moved closer to him and put her arm around him. She slowly let her hand glide down to the place she had been longing to touch all evening.
''Emily, please stop, I'm tired.''
''But Peter, we haven't made love for such a long time. I want you. Please take me.''
Peter didn't reply, he rolled onto his side, and closed his eyes. Emily played with his manhood for a while, but when she got no reaction, she rolled over, frustrated.
When the first shades of winter light began to fall through a gap in the curtains, Emily still hadn't managed to fall asleep again. When Peter woke, she watched as he got out of bed. He was a handsome man. The moment she had met him, she was attracted to him. Unlike her, he was dark and his skin was brown. When he stood naked at the foot of the bed, she noticed that he seemed to be leaner than when he'd last allowed her to look. When he slipped into his underwear, she saw how taught his buttocks were, and how strong his thighs looked. He left the room without saying anything.
When Emily came downstairs, she walked into the breakfast room. ''Good morning, Peter.'' she said, as she sat down at her end of the long table. Joseph put a pot of fresh tea in front of her, and a plate of toast. Peter always had eggs and bacon, but Emily's fine constitution wouldn't allow her to eat fat. Her day always began with toast and jam, followed by an apple.
''What have you got planned today, my dear?'' she asked Peter.
''I'm going up to London. I have a meeting. I won't be back until tomorrow. I'm dining with clients and then I'll sleep at my club.''
''You seem to be spending a lot of evenings in London these days.''
''It seems everyone is too busy to talk to their stock broker during the day. It is far easier to make appointments in the evening. After talking business all evening, I really do not feel like taking the journey home. It's very comfortable at the club.''
After Peter had gone, Emily finished her breakfast and put on her coat and walking shoes. Emily enjoyed walking the grounds of the Manor. In the frost and snow, everything looked quite spectacular. As Milly and Flossy bounded around the lawn, Emily looked at the house she had bought for them.
The front door was blue, and it had an enormous brass knocker in its middle. Emily made sure it was polished daily. Joseph was used to the phrase, ''it's the first thing visitors put their hands on.'' To each side of the door were four windows. On the left, the drawing room and on the right a small library, and Peter's study. Below the windows were flower beds, which at this time of year were empty and frozen.
''Hello,'' someone said, making Emily jump.
''Sir John, you really mustn't creep up on me like that. You could give me a heart attack.''
Sir John, Emily’s neighbor, was around Peter’s age and almost as handsome. He was a rugged type, always with his cravat loosened, his hair slightly tussled. Had Emily not been so in love with her husband, lonely at night, she could have easily fantasized about Sir John’s body that she imagined underneath his shirt.
“I was just out for a walk, and thought I would say hello.'' he said enthusiastically.
''I thought you were in the middle of having that enormous house of yours redecorated?'' Emily asked.
''I am, but the place has got sixteen bedrooms and countless other rooms. It's taking forever. It's full of workmen and if I didn't get out for at least an hour a day, I would go mad.''
''Are you sure they won't pinch any of your valuable furnishings? All they would have to do is steal one of your statues and they wouldn't have to work ever again.''
''Quite true, but Patterson is keeping an eye out.''
''How is he? He wasn't very well I heard.''
''Do you know, he's seventy five. He served my grandfather when he was a young man and he's remained faithful to the family ever since. He’s the most marvelous butler a man could wish for.''
''Well please treat him well. He is very old still to be working.''
''Where is Peter?'' John asked.
''Gone to London, to his office, and then on to his club.''
''Will he be away this evening?''
''Yes.''
''Splendid. Then you are free to come over to Eagle Lodge for dinner.''
''Thank you for you kind offer, but I have many things to do here. Please do not be offended.'' Emily was loathe to refuse because she knew how lonely Sir John was after his parents had been killed in a boating accident while on holiday in the South of France.
''Of course. Well, I'll be off.''
Emily watched him walk through the gate, and over the fields in the direction of his property.
*****
Peter looked out of his office window across Trafalgar Square. As usual there were hundreds of pigeons walking around, pecking at the gro
und. There were at least ten perched on top of Nelson's hat. He turned back to the room and sat at the enormous oak desk his father had bought, when he'd started their stock broking business, fifty years ago.
There was knock at the door and Jackson, Peter's clerk, came into the room. ''I just wanted to check on the fire, it's bitterly cold outside, and we shouldn't let it go out,'' he said, as he picked up a brass topped poker.
''When you've done that can you bring me the client list?'' Peter said. Jackson stoked up the fire, went out of the room and reemerged with a bundle of papers. He sat down opposite Peter, and handed them to him.
''Let's see,'' Peter said, as his glasses threatened to fall from the end of his nose. ''I'm especially interested in the investments we have made on behalf of Sir John Waterford.''
''At the bottom of the page sir. 'W', almost last in the alphabet,'' Jackson said, stating the obvious.
''Yes. I see. Not performing very well are they?''
''No sir, they are not. But may I remind you, we offered Sir John much advice at the time. We warned him not to invest in those stocks. Unfortunately, he didn't listen. It is of his own doing that his fortune is disappearing before his very eyes.''
''Indeed, I remember. It's very awkward, he's a neighbor and I don't want to see him go under.''
''I understand sir, perhaps you can talk to him and get him to sell, and at least retrieve some of his investment.''
''Yes, I will. Now what messages do you have for me?''
''Mr. Stopps called by, he wants to invest two thousand in the East India Rubber Company. Mr. Rawlings wants you to sell his stocks in GNER, and reinvest in some company I have never heard of, and Miss Pemberly send notice that you should meet her at five o'clock in the tea room at Claridges.''
''Thank you, Jackson. Just so you don't misunderstand, Miss Pemberly is also a neighbor of ours out in the Shires. She's in town to do some shopping and I said I would meet her to discuss her finances.''
