The Promise

by V J Dunraven

  Richard darted his eyes at Gordon, who shrugged and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, quietly closing the door behind him.

  “Er—is anything the matter?” Richard wondered at the sudden change in Desiree’s behavior from the last time he saw her. She had always been aloof, like most exalted ladies of her class—not the sort to profess feelings in public, much less show physical affection in front of other people—even the servants.

  “Nothing’s the matter,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I missed you, that’s all.” She pulled him close for another, more ardent kiss.

  Richard could not quite believe he was kissing the same woman. This blond goddess in his arms brimmed with passion and sensuality, the two most important things that could stir the excitement in a man’s blood—or a man’s cock, for that matter.

  “Desiree—” he said breathlessly against her mouth as their lips parted.

  “Come.” She tugged on his arm. “Let’s sit over there and cuddle.”

  “Cuddle?” he repeated, perplexed with her brazenness. From the moment she walked through the door, she seemed to be a different person—free spirited and filled with the promise of pleasure—that he was having a hell of a hard time believing she was the straight-laced, insipid woman to whom he was betrothed.

  “Yes—cuddle,” she chuckled and led him towards the sitting area in front of the fireplace.

  He sat on the loveseat, facing the fire and to his surprise, Desiree elected to perch herself on his lap instead of sitting next to him. She shifted sideways, grinding her delicious bottom against his rapidly awakening cock, and positioning her generous bosom directly in line with his vision.

  Richard willed himself to focus on her face to quell the rising panic in his groin. Something odd was going on. Some kind of miracle definitely happened during their period apart to transform his cold-blooded betrothed into a sultry seductress.

  “I’m so glad to be here.” She cupped his face in her hands and showered him with tiny kisses.

  “You are?” His befuddlement reached new heights. Desiree hated the country. In her own words—Cornwall was unbearably bucolic and lacking in relevant entertainment. He even remembered her saying, she would never consent to live at Grandstone Park—which fueled his growing resentment and ignited his regret in making a hasty decision in asking for her hand.

  “Yes. I just realized how wonderful the air is, and how beautiful and peaceful the countryside is.” She looked into his eyes. “I think Grandstone Park will make a suitable home for us once we marry.”

  Richard would have fallen out of the chair if she hadn’t been sitting on his lap. “You actually want to live here?” he blurted, unable to keep his jaw from dropping. For obvious reasons, he could not quite picture the stylish and worldly Lady Desiree stashed away in the country, living a domesticated, non-sophisticated life.

  “Of course.” She gave him a tender kiss on the nose. “I’ll be happy here as long as you’re with me.”

  “Eh?” Richard raised a suspicious eyebrow, though he could not help the gladness that seeped into his heart. He desired Desiree from the time they first met and wanted her for years, which was the reason he did not hesitate to ask for her hand in marriage. However, her indifference to the things he treasured and disdain for the home he loved, quickly doused his passion, replacing it with disappointment and an utter sense of failure in not finding the kind love his parents had.

  “Are you certain?” he angled for some inconsistency in her response, in case he was missing something. Perhaps she was ill, or foxed, or had been taking some opiated drug, but her lucid disposition proved her clear-headedness.

  “Yes,” she sighed dreamily and circled her arms around his neck once more, bringing her delightful breasts against his chin.

  Richard’s thoughts careened to a more carnal nature. He felt quite a bit hot and dizzy. Her breasts pressed so dangerously close that just one flick of a clever finger on her neckline and he could flick his tongue on the pink nub straining against the satin. Just one sweep of his hand underneath her voluminous skirts and he could insert a probing finger into the cleft of her woman’s flesh. Just one—

  She shifted on his lap and pushed her bottom more firmly against the tautness of his now raging erection. Richard broke into a cold sweat. Desiree’s long, tawny lashes fluttered, seemingly well aware of his predicament. She gave him a steamy, syrupy, heavy-lidded gaze—that oddly reminded him of someone whom his scattered brain could not pinpoint at the moment. The corners of her mouth lifted in a slow, heart-stopping, cock-titillating smile. He had seen that smile somewhere—but now was not the time for him to ponder.

  Richard swallowed the flare of heat that originated from his balls, traveled to his cock and eventually ended in his throat. The minx was most definitely seducing him—in every stimulating way—and she knew all the right moves. Where in hell did she learn how to enrapture a man with the promise of erotic delights to come?

  His cock seemed to have heard the trend of his thoughts because it stood at attention, straining against his riding breeches, demanding its freedom from the rapidly tightening confines of his drawers.

  She moved just a little, enough to rub its aching, swollen head with her delectable derriere.

  “Desiree—” he began to protest, for in spite of the fact that they were betrothed, it simply was not the thing to force himself on her before she had the protection of his name.

  She silenced him with a fervid kiss.

  Richard’s brain sank like jelly down to his loins, dragging with it the respectable principles of a gentleman of fine upbringing.

  He slid his hands from her narrow waist to the perfectly shaped mountains on her chest, circling her rigid nipples with his thumbs through the fabric of her gown.

  She gasped, pushing herself away from him with startled cornflower-blue eyes. Then, as if realizing she had done a misstep, she quickly rebounded from shock by closing those arrestingly beautiful eyes and crushing her breasts firmly into his hands.

  Richard needed no further provocation. He deftly peeled down the satin guarding her ripened berries, drawing a pink nipple in his mouth. She smelled of roses and tasted like warm honey, a delicious combination that fired his lust. He feasted on her breasts; generous, supple and full, spilling over his palms, just the way he liked them. His mouth explored every inch of ivory skin, soft and yielding to his touch. But hell—it wasn’t enough—he needed more, he wanted more—he’d been celibate for too long. If he had not known she was a virgin, he would have bent her forward on the solid mahogany table, tossed her skirts up and entered her from behind.

  Richard immediately shook his head, catching a deep breath to rid himself of his salacious fantasies. This was Desiree, his betrothed—not some wench at Madame Le Moreau’s brothel. She was a lady and deserved to be treated as such. He must pleasure her in gentler, less radical ways.

  He slipped his hand underneath her gown and traced the length of her shapely leg, going up and up, until he reached the triangular junction between her thighs.

  Desiree suddenly stilled and caught his hand. “Not now, sweetheart,” she whispered, and he wondered why she used a different endearment. He preferred darling, truth be told.

  “There’ll be plenty of time for you and me.” She ran her fingers along his jaw. “I’ll be staying for a fortnight.”

  “You are?” Richard felt his erection die a slow death at the thought of spending two weeks with Desiree, sitting around and doing absolutely nothing. She may have become an expert seductress, but that did not mean she had changed her other ways. She would never ride to the beach with him or visit the tenants, much less explore the beautiful countryside for fear of getting freckles from the sun.

  “Yes.” She wiggled her bottom one last time, aggravating the ache in his balls bursting from the lack of ejaculati
on, before she stood up and smoothed her skirts. ”Oh—by the way—I’ve come across Lord Waterford on my way here and invited him and Miss Carlyle to join us for dinner, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not,” Richard sighed as he watched her tuck the heavy globes of her breasts back into her dress. Desiree surely was acting strangely. She actually invited Jeremy and Cassie? Desiree may like Jeremy—all women did—but she never liked Cassie! And as for her sudden amorous advances—he began to wonder who taught her the skills. Perhaps a widowed friend? An experienced governess? A paid courtesan? He mentally rejected the last choice.

  Well—perhaps they wouldn’t end up doing nothing, after all. They certainly started on the right footing—or rather the right fondling—and it was still early in the morning.

  Chapter 29

  Revenge of the Rake and

  The Goat Lady (Part Three)

  Cassandra stood hand in hand with Jeremy as they waited in the drawing room of Grandstone Park for their hosts. She did not particularly want to attend the dinner tonight, but she did not wish to quarrel with Jeremy either. The only reason he started speaking to her again was because of the goat lady’s invitation. And if that was what it took for her to mend fences with him, then that was what she must endure.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” she whispered in Jeremy’s ear. “Are you sure the goat lady is not cross with me anymore?”

  “I suppose not.” He glanced sideways at her. “She expressly mentioned that you come with me. By the by, will you please stop calling her goat lady? It’s very impolite.”

  Cassandra raised one fine brow. Since when did Jeremy become concerned with what was polite or not?

  She stole a fleeting look at him. Dressed impeccably in a dark blue superfine coat, matching trousers, dove-gray waistcoat and an immaculate white shirt, he looked too well put together, dignified even—a far cry from the raw, rakish image he always projected. Thankfully, he left his medium-length dark hair unbound, falling to his shoulders in neat layers—otherwise, she would not have recognized him.

  Cassandra frowned. If she was none the wiser, she would have thought he was taking after Richard’s example—the picture of a perfect gentleman. She immediately squashed the thought. Now why would Jeremy want to do that? He looked fine just the way he was—which she personally preferred over this formal style that didn’t flatter his personality at all.

  “What are you scowling at, brat?” He flicked long-lashed dark eyes at her.

  “You look strange,” she said, appraising him from head to toe.

  His brows snapped together. “I look strange—what the hell do you mean?”

  She crinkled her nose. “You’re dressed like Richard.”

  “Well—isn’t that good?” He smoothed his jacket. “You do like the way he dresses, don’t you?”

  “Well yes—but not on you.” She shrugged. “I like the way you usually dress, better.”

  Jeremy muttered a curse under his breath. He had taken the time to dress like a damned solicitor, ordered Percy to give him a good shave and had him tame his normally windblown-styled hair—only to have the little brat fret that he looked strange.

  Gah! What he needed to do to please this woman—he had absolutely no clue! She claimed to be enamored with Richard—and he tried to be like him—at least in the manner of dressing—and what did the little twit say? You look strange.

  Then to drive the nail into the coffin, she said she liked his way of dressing better. May the Lord forgive his addled brains for the confusion—but wasn’t she supposed to go all moon-eyed over him for becoming respectable-looking like Richard?

  Devil be damned, but he would never understand women—he glared at the top of her head—especially this particular woman!

  “There you are!” Lady Desiree walked in on Richard’s arm into the drawing room, a vision of elegance in ivory and gold. “I am delighted you joined us,” she acknowledged Jeremy’s bow. “The Duke is indisposed, I’m afraid, so it will be just us for dinner.” She took Cassie’s hands in hers and said with a wide smile, “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

  Cassie looked taken aback by Lady Desiree’s unexpected cordiality. She cast a bewildered glance at Jeremy, but he merely shrugged and turned to greet Richard accordingly.

  “Dinner is served,” Gordon announced into the room.

  Lady Desiree placed her hand on Richard’s arm and they led Jeremy and Cassie into the formal dining room.

  The room was opulent, as was the rest of Grandstone House. Portraits of landscapes hung along the exquisitely papered walls and an intricately carved sideboard stood along the far end by the windows. The dinner table was wide and long, fit for a large gathering. Lady Desiree sat on Richard’s right instead of taking the opposite end of the table as was customary. The footman pulled out a chair for Cassie next to Lady Desiree while Jeremy sat across the table on Richard’s left.

  Conversation progressed easily over dinner. To Richard’s surprise, Lady Desiree proved to be an excellent hostess. He had thought her obtuse before, for that was the persona she projected, but then in the few days they spent together after their betrothal, he never really did take the time to get to know her well.

  He apparently was mistaken for assuming her witless, for tonight proved she was quite articulate in several subjects. She diligently filled the awkward lulls with clever comments and directed the discussion on art and horseflesh—topics that everyone around the table evidently enjoyed.

  Richard watched in fascination as Desiree put their guests at ease. Though he was a bit mystified at her sudden congeniality towards Cassie, he nonetheless credited her for moving past the unpleasantness of their first meeting.

  She made sure Cassie participated in the conversation by asking her many interesting questions about Rose Hill, her family and other things Cassie enjoyed. It almost seemed like she had done her research, for after a few awkward intervals, Cassie began to open up about the things she loved about Cornwall.

  Richard sat back in his chair. Nothing could have pleased him more than seeing Desiree and Cassie address each other with civility. This truly was a good start. He began to feel a measure of appreciation for Desiree.

  “Lady Desiree is an outstanding hostess,” Jeremy said next to him as the footmen cleared the table and served the desserts.

  “Yes, she is,” he replied with a measure of pride.

  “The food is superb.” Jeremy picked up a chocolate covered mallow.

  “Yes,” Richard concurred. Desiree’s impeccable taste in fine dining contributed to the dinner’s success. He noticed that chocolate bonbons were thoughtfully included in the dessert menu and wondered if Cook advised her they were Cassie’s favorite sweets.

  “You’re a lucky fellow,” Jeremy said as he reached for a bonbon. “You’d be a fool to give Lady Desiree up.”

  Richard’s gaze settled on the beautiful countenance of his betrothed—the same woman he tried to avoid for the past four years. She was laughing at something that Cassie had said and her eyes shone with a zest for life—something he had never noticed before. Her disposition seemed livelier and lighter, lacking the haughtiness, stiff decorum and coldness she meticulously maintained the last time he saw her.

  Richard nodded, definitely starting to think Desiree would make a splendid Duchess.

  “I hope you’re doing the right thing and your other lady-love is worth it,” Jeremy said between bites of chocolate. “Because if you decide to cry off the engagement, it will not take long for Lady Desiree to find another suitable prospect.”

  “What are you talking about?” Richard snapped out of his cogitation.

  Jeremy reached for another chocolate in the shape of a heart. “You said you met someone else. I remember you mentioning it to me and Allayne at the Templeton Soire.” he stuffed the bonbon in h
is mouth and licked his fingers. “I hope she’s worthy enough for you to give up Lady Desiree.”

  Richard inhaled sharply and his eyes darted to Cassie who was engaged in a conversation with Desiree. She looked lovely in her blue-green gown and he could not believe how grown-up she had become. Had he really been gone that long?

  Long enough not to recognize her, a voice at the back of his head said. He was so smitten by her that he’d agreed to a tryst at that damned fountain. Luckily, he’d lost his way, otherwise—Good God! He inwardly cringed at what could have happened next. If he’d only known who she was then—there was no way in hell he’d even touched a hair on her head!

  Richard shuffled his feet under the table. He remembered how shocked he was when he found out that his mystery princess was none other than Cassie—his little Piglet! That discovery certainly doused his desire in cold water—and though his attraction to her lingered, it nevertheless sobered his pursuit of her.

  Cassie glanced at him and smiled, before her eyes shifted onto Jeremy who was devouring all the chocolate bonbons at an alarming rate.

  “Leave some for me!” She slapped his hand as he reached for another one. Laughing, both of them tugged at the silver platter playfully back and forth.

  Richard could not help but chuckle. The scene was a familiar occurrence throughout their childhood. While Jeremy teased Cassie to no end—sometimes to the brink of tears, he spent most of his time cheering her up and fending off Jeremy’s torments. Could it be that nothing has changed?

  Richard straightened in his seat. Could he have misjudged his true feelings for Cassie? Could his possessiveness over her been influenced by her betrothal to Jeremy? He could not deny that the announcement of their betrothal had left him feeling powerless to protect her, if things between her and Jeremy did not go well. And he certainly was very protective of her.