by Anna Edwards
“I want to see you in jeans,” I blurt out, and he smiles. “Are you liking what you see, Victoria?”
“Maybe,” I tease.
“Well, how about this?” He undoes his belt and then the zipper of his trousers, which he then lowers. Between my thighs starts to throb just at the sight of him in tight boxers. He kicks off his shoes and removes his trousers and socks. Next thing I know, he’s back on top of me, kissing down my body.
“Isn’t the underwear coming off?” I ask.
“Soon. If I take them off right now, I won’t be able to take this slowly. I’m not going to risk hurting you anymore.” The ‘anymore’ is said with poignant emotion. I need to reassure him that I’m not going to fall apart.
“I’m not broken. You’ve made me stronger, if anything.”
“I’m still not prepared to risk that fact when it comes to carnal activities. Now shush and let me be the master here. I want to make you feel good.”
I lay back and shut my eyes as Nicholas puts his head between my thighs. Before long, I’m coming on his face in a much-needed release. I know I’m mourning the loss of my friend, but she’s been the catalyst to bring about change. No more women will be harmed as a result of the sacrifices that she's made in her life.
Nicholas slides up my body and kisses my lips. He tastes of me, and it’s decadent and totally wicked. I forget, for a second, who I am and why I’m here.
“Last chance to say no.” His eyes flicker with fear, a concern that he’ll hurt me or worse.
“I’m beginning to think you don’t want me as much as you say,” I taunt.
He raises a playful eyebrow while grabbing the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down his legs. Holy fuck! My eyes almost bug out of my head at the sight of him naked. It’s like one of the Greek gods in the paintings that adorn the walls of Oakfield Hall, except he’s so much better endowed. His cock struts out from his torso, covered in clear liquid at the tip. He’s ready for me already.
“I’m going to hurt you, at first. It’s unavoidable. I was blessed with girth.”
I chuckle at his formal use of words.
“It’s a pretty big dick.”
He shakes his head and positions himself at my entrance.
I lay back and allow my hands to entwine in the sheets when he pushes in. He wasn’t joking when he said he had girth. I breathe through the discomfort until the pleasure takes over again, and I relax around his intrusion.
“Move, please,” I pant, and he obeys. In a slow, tantalizing movement, he withdraws from me and pushes straight back in.
“Move.” I shut my eyes and allow my head to fall back. I’m no longer a virgin. I’ve broken the rules: joined with the man I was given to, and I don’t care. All I want is for him to move faster. To fuck me. I rotate my hips to encourage him, and he grunts out a strained response.
“Victoria, don’t tempt me. I’m struggling to be gentle.”
“Haven’t you learned, yet. I don’t break easily. Fuck me.”
He moans deeper, and his pupils dilate to the pitch of the darkest night. The devil is released, and I’m pleased. He pulls his hips back and slams into me. The force sends me up the bed and an explosion rocks through my body. I’m coming again, already. Nicholas continues his thrusts as I reach my precipice and fall over. I’m flying in his arms as he fucks me like a wild animal. I’m raw and loving every moment. My lover buries himself, deeply, inside me and stills. He comes with a loud raspy call of my name. I feel the jets of seed flood my womb. Fuck, he’s bare. No condom. He must see the moment that I worry, for he bends and kisses my lips.
“I’m clean, and you're protected. You have my word on this.”
I relax again. Nicholas withdraws from me, and we entwine our limbs on the daybed. He pulls a blanket over us.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
“I feel different,” I respond.
“Is that a good or bad different?” He looks worried and sits up a bit.
“Good. I made a decision for myself. It’s probably the first time ever.”
His face softens, again, and he lays back down. “Do you want to make another one? I asked you a question before.”
“You did.”
“Will you help me end this for good? Will you be my wife?”
“Yes,” I answer — confident that I’m doing the right thing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
NICHOLAS
I watch Victoria sleeping — she looks peaceful. It’s nice to watch her in person and not via a monitor. She opens her mouth and mumbles something about an oat and raisin cookie and then wiggles her perfect nose. I smile because I’m relaxed and happy. I’ve never enjoyed watching a woman this way before. It’s been sex and goodbye, but with Victoria, it’s different. After we made love twice more, we laid in each other’s arms and talked about our childhood for a few hours. She fell asleep, but I wasn’t tired. I’ve got far too much on my mind and none of it good. No matter what Victoria says, I’m responsible for Amelia’s death. All this has been for my succession. I could have said no and walked away, but I didn’t because of William and my fears for myself. I was selfish but no more. Together, Victoria and I will finish this. I slide from the bed and fumble around for my boxers. I eventually find them slung over a vase of fake roses. The flowers are everywhere. It’s as if my mother knew that the girl I would fall for would pick them as her favorite. Tiptoeing quietly, I grab the rest of my clothes and go outside. I need some air to think about what happens next. I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Reggie’s number. He may be my butler, but he’s also a confidant.
“My Lord, where are you?” he answers after the first ring.
“My mother’s summer house.”
I can hear him exhale a sigh of relief.
“You didn’t leave. What about Victoria?”
“She’s with me.”
“You have spent time together?”
“If you’re asking if we’ve slept together, then yes. I’ve made my decision — I’m going to marry her. It may not have a been a traditional courtship, but she’s everything that I want in a wife. Together, we’ll disband the society and see that no more girls are hurt by its rules.”
He goes silent on the other end of the phone.
“Reggie.”
“I’ll help you in any way I can. It won’t be easy. Your father is already putting things in place. He’ll check Miss Victoria, the moment you return, to confirm that her virginity is still intact. You and I are both aware of the consequences when he finds out that it isn’t.”
“He won’t touch her.”
“You have to think carefully, My Lord.”
“Is he at home?”
“No. He left after Miss Amelia’s body was removed to her father.” I wince at the mention of Victoria’s dead friend.
“Did he take it?”
“No, she’s caused shame on her family, and he refused her back. Your father has had her placed in the cellar until something can be done.”
“I want you to make arrangements for her to be buried in the local church. They'll not ask any questions. They’re used to random bodies suddenly appearing.”
“I’ll sort it at once, My Lord.”
“Thank you, Reggie. Where’s my father?”
“He went to his flat.” I don’t need to ask what my butler means by his flat. It’s the place where he goes when he wants time to fuck in peace, away from Oakfield, even if it's still on the grounds.
“I need to go check on Victoria. I don’t want to leave her for long. Can you send some food and clean clothing down here for her? I’m going to go and see my father. I want a guard as well, make that two. One for William and one for her. I know you have contacts.”
“I do, Sir. I’ll sort it at once.”
“Thank you.”
I hang up, and the summer house door opens. Victoria stands there, rubbing her eyes. She has the sheet wrapped around her body.
“I wondered where you�
�d gone?”
“I was just talking to my butler. My father has left Oakfield, but that doesn’t mean you're safe. I don’t know his next move, but I do know that the second he gets hold of you he’ll have you before his doctor, again. That’s not happening. I need to go and speak to him. Tell him I’ve made my decision. I want you to stay here. My butler has contacts. He’s going to get someone to guard you and someone for William, also.”
“Nicholas.” She places her hand on my chest. “I’ve been thinking. We should run away — go to Scotland and marry. He can’t do anything about it once we’re man and wife. You'll be married, and he’ll need to step aside. Then, we can start changing the rules.”
“I wish it were that easy.” I pull her closely to me and press a kiss to her sex tangled hair.
“Your father and the rules.”
“The last task.”
“What is it?”
“The one that’s essential to the society’s business. It’s the one that defines us.”
“I don’t understand?”
I take a deep breath and lead Victoria back into the summer house. We take a seat on the daybed.
“You know you asked me about the Van Gogh picture in the main hall.” I run a hand through my hair with the nerves I feel.
“Yes. The obvious fake.”
“It’s not a fake. It’s the real one.”
“But that can’t be possible. It was stolen eight years ago.” She screws her nose up in confusion.
“I know. I was the one who stole it.”
“What?” She pulls back from me like I’ve just told her that her favorite puppy has died, or something. She’s in shock and confused. “You stole it? The real ‘Poppies’, you have the real painting in your hall.”
“Yes.” I nod guiltily.
“How?” she exclaims.
“I’ve been trained as a thief since almost the day I was born. Most of the members of the society are. Nobody suspects us because of who we are. We have a lot more pictures in our collection than are on show. Most of the stolen Nazi pictures are hidden in special storage under Oakfield Hall. We’re worth billions in collectable art.”
Victoria slides from the bed and puts distance between us.
“And that’s why the society was set up. To collect art. We needed money to maintain our positions. It was the one-way way to do it that the founders all agreed on. Over the years, to keep us going, we’ve allowed others who possess the appropriate skills to join. The majority of work is still the acquisition of paintings, but we also collect sculptures, architecture when we can steal it, and famous photographs and videos.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
“Are you angry?”
“I’m confused. You steal paintings and think it gives you the right to treat women the way you do?” She looks at me, eyes narrowed, and the expression on her face is harsh.
“When the society was set up, my ancestors were the highest ranked. They took on the most risk. In those days, losing their head would’ve been the least of their problems if they were caught. My four times great grandfather demanded something in exchange. He wanted a choice of brides for his son. The rules and trials were documented and have been in place ever since. My great, great grandfather tried to repeal them during the Victorian times, but the industry was exploding, and the artworks collected were being used for expanding the society’s interests during the Industrial Revolution. New rules were put in place stating that should we try to stop the legacy of our succession, we’d forfeit everything, including our lives. The Dukedom of Oakfield would become extinct because all heirs would be executed. That’s why I’ve fought so hard against this. Not only would I die but also William. He’s an innocent in this. His only crime is having the father that he does.”
Victoria squeezes me a little harder when I finish my mini-speech.
“The decisions of our ancestors have put us in the position we’re in. We'll work together to try and put a stop to it. I’ll trust your decisions. But, when we succeed, we must give the artwork back. It’s not ours to keep.” She sits down on the bed again. Her legs seeming too heavy to support her weary frame.
“Even ‘The Poppies’? I’m quite fond of that one. I nearly got caught taking it.”
She frowns.
“Even ‘The Poppies’. When this is over, you can tell me about how you took it. I’m actually intrigued.
I bend down, kiss her and let go to search out the rest of my clothes.
I have to go and find my father. I need to tell him we’re marrying.”
“Is he going to make me do the last task?” she questions.
“I don’t know, but if he does, I’ll do all I can to help you. Trust your instincts.”
“What is it?”
I nervously lick my lips.
“You’ll have to steal a painting.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
NICHOLAS
It doesn’t take me long to get to my father’s other residence. It’s on the other side of the estate. It’s the place he takes the whores, and judging by the noise coming from his bedroom, he’s already at it with one. I swallow down the bile that comes from hearing the screams.
“Tell him I want to speak to him, now,” I growl toward a guard who’s conflicted about what he should do. It’s a case of deciding which devil is worse between my father and me, at the moment. The fact that my fist is inches from breaking his nose forces his hand, and he scuttles up the stairs to interrupt my father’s pleasures. I settle myself into a chair and wait impatiently
“Nicholas.” My father saunters down the stairs in what I suspect is nothing more than a housecoat. “I was in the middle of something rather important. What’s it you want? And what have you done with the girl?”
He walks straight past me and pours himself a glass of red wine from a decanter on the table.
“She's somewhere safe.”
“You’ll have her back at Oakfield Hall by dusk, and I’ll have Doctor Fallen confirm that you’ve treated her honorably. I know your reputation.”
“It’s no different to yours,” I snap back and jump to my feet.
“I think my satisfaction rates are much higher than yours.”
“No, your hospitalization rates are more widely known than mine. There's a difference. Does the whore upstairs know what she’s letting herself in for?”
He smirks.
“Oh, she’s fully aware and looking forward to it.”
“She’s insane.”
He laughs.
“Just say what you’ve come here to say and leave. I’m a busy man.”
“I’ve made my decision. You can end the trials and start making arrangements for the wedding. I’ll be marrying Victoria Hamilton.”
At first, my father doesn’t say anything. He just continues drinking his wine in a cold and calculating way.
“Do you know what I did last night after that stupid girl decided to decorate my hall with her brains? I went out and organized the final task. I want this over, and it won’t be until the tasks are done. Elizabeth Sandford undertook hers a few hours ago and succeeded. We have a nice, new Picasso to hang up on the wall. A stupid private collector was insufficient with his security. She was good. I’ll have to show you the video at some point.” He places his glass down. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck start to rise. I don’t like this one bit. There’s something not right.
“At the time, I couldn’t find Miss Hamilton, no doubt, because she was sitting on your dick somewhere.”
“She’s pure,” I lie through my teeth. I won’t have him disregard her and seek to destroy her this way.
“Yes, about as pure Charles II favorite, Nell Gwynn, was.” He waves his hand toward a stolen painting of the famed courtesan on the wall. “Anyway, it was fortunate that you chose to phone your butler this morning. I’ve had a trace on your phone since the day you got it.”
The blood must drain from my face because my head starts to spi
n.
“What’ve you done?”
“At this very moment, I suspect that Miss Hamilton is being taken from your mother’s summer house — it’s a good place to go, by the way, and proves you’re as weak as she was. Miss Hamilton will be put in location to steal her painting within the hour.”
I don’t wait to hear anything else from him. I’m out of the room, out of the house, and running across the grounds as fast as I can to the summer house. I leap over the formal gardens, filled with summer blooms and edged with boxed dark green yew. A water fountain has me skidding in a different direction, but, eventually, I burst in through the doors of the summer house.
“Victoria?” I call, but the only answer I get is Reggie, falling to the ground in front of me. “Reggie.” I leap forward and pull him into my arms. He’s holding a wound to his chest.
“I tried.,” he splutters, and blood drips from his mouth. “I’m sorry they took her.”
“Shush,” I urge him and press my hand against what looks like a knife wound in his chest. “I need to get you a doctor.”
“No,” he gurgles. “Too late.”
“It can’t be.” I’m shaking my head. Reggie has been the father I’ve never had. He’s looked after me for as long as I can remember. "Let me try?” I’m pleading with him. I can’t lose him.
“I’m old. She’s young. Help her.” He coughs again, and his eyes roll back in his head.
“Reggie.” I shake him, but there’s nothing to be done. The room goes silent as he passes away. I lay him down on the floor. I can’t breathe. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to go to my father and be marrying Victoria. Victoria, she’s got to steal. I need to think. We have a list of works that we want. Which one would it be? Oh god, the ultimate prize. Would my father send her after that? The Mona Lisa. I have to hope that he has some sort of heart amongst the ego that dominates his body. I spin around, ready to finish this, but my father stands in the door, a tablet in hand, and a microphone headset on.
“One less expense on my budget, then.” He looks over my shoulder to where my butler lays dead.