Jo Beverley - [Malloren 01]

by My Lady Notorious

  In London, Chastity had heard sly speculation as to whether Letty’s hair grew the same flaming red all over. Now the world knew. Instead of triumphant, Chastity felt sad. It would be impossible to use any names gathered here without causing great hurt.

  Moreover, she envied the revelers. Their behavior might be lewd and wrong, but for this brief moment they were happy. She could hardly remember what happiness was.

  A man grabbed her and swung her into a merry dance. With horror, she realized it was Fort.

  “Hey, my pretty, don’t look so shocked. Tell me your name.”

  He really was quite handsome with his blue eyes, curly brown hair, and even teeth. He smiled beguilingly. How long was it since he’d smiled that way at her? Not so long ago, though it seemed a lifetime.

  “Are you incognito?” he asked. “Give me a false name, pretty one. I’ll not care.”

  “Chloe,” she said, thinking of a starchy aunt, her father’s eldest sister.

  He laughed. “Not my favorite name but never mind.” He dragged her close and kissed her.

  Chastity froze. This was a terrible sin, wasn’t it?

  He pushed her away angrily. “What’s the matter, doxy? Am I not to your taste?”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she gasped, in a breathy, twittery voice. “I . . . I don’t feel well. I need a place to throw up!”

  “ ’Struth,” he said with a laugh, and steered her over to the door. “Go down that corridor and you’ll be outside. Good luck to you.”

  With that he returned to the dancing. Chastity smiled sadly. That was the careless kindness she remembered from the past. Fort was a hard man and easily angered, but not unkind. She considered everything from his point of view. He’d been one of the ones to catch Vernham in her bed, but he hadn’t been really angry until she’d refused to marry. Only then had he joined with her father in berating her.

  Chastity hovered in the corridor, watching her brother. Was he here just for the party, or as part of the hunt? He must be concerned about Verity, but it would be typical of him to enjoy himself too when occasion presented. He found another partner, and after a while left the room with her. Chastity gathered her courage and returned to the dancing, seeking yet more evidence.

  Heatherington passed through the room, applauding his guests, his paramour by his side. Chastity worked her way closer. It was surely Nerissa. That teetering walk, and a habit she had of stroking her neck as if checking for wrinkles . . .

  A man moved in front of Chastity, blocking her way. “Alone? Surely not. Not anymore, at least.” He held out his hand in an invitation to the dance. It was the large Captain Gresham. He hadn’t changed from his uniform and it was disarranged, his white waistcoat hanging open, his cravat gone, and his shirt open at the neck. He’d lost his wig too, and revealed dark hair shorn to a stubble.

  Chastity went to him. Alone, she would be constantly accosted, and why shouldn’t she have a moment of pleasure too?

  For a while they danced moderately, but then he picked her up to twirl her in the air. Chastity squealed, fearing she was showing her all, and that her wig would fly off. She was also terrified by his size and strength which made her like a child in his arms. She realized she’d never before been out in the world unprotected by father, brother, or Cyn, but here she had no one to save her from this giant.

  He lowered her slowly against his body. She sighed with relief to have her feet on the ground again, until she realized his maneuver had rucked up her petticoat at the front so a good part of her legs was bare.

  He gave a mock growl and kissed her.

  Chastity was totally helpless. One mighty arm clamped her in place. His other hand held her head, and her skull seemed to fit that hand as neatly as an orange would fit her own. His hot mouth assaulted her and when she resisted, his thumb slid forward to force open her mouth. His heavy tongue invaded. This had never happened to her before.

  She felt swamped, engulfed and overpowered, but her senses were swimming, and she knew her mouth had softened under his skillful pressure. That frightened her more than anything.

  He drew back, slowly. “That’s better, my pretty. What’s the matter? You have someone else here?”

  Grasping the escape, Chastity said, “Yes.”

  “Too bad.” His hand moved up to press and circle over her breast.

  Too hard. It hurt. The trace of pleasure had gone, replaced by terror. She was going to be ravished, here in this room. She’d never been pawed like this, even by Henry Vernham.

  She strained back against Gresham’s rock-hard arm, desperately seeking an escape, but he took the opportunity to bite her neck. “Too bad, indeed,” she gasped. “But I slipped away from him because he wouldn’t feed me. Truly, sir, I’m famished. I . . . er . . . can’t give my mind to other matters until my stomach stops aching.”

  He laughed and nibbled at the upper curve of her breast. “In truth, I’m starved myself now you mention it, and I don’t suppose I should really eat you, delicious though you are.” Eating, thought Chastity hysterically. This is what they meant! “Heather must have food here somewhere,” he said, “and we’ll both need to keep our strength up, won’t we?”

  Dizzy with relief, Chastity smiled at him. “Especially me, sir,” she said coyly. “You being so big.”

  “You won’t believe it, my pretty, I promise you.” He grabbed her hand and clutched it to his bulging penis.

  Chastity froze in disbelief. It would tear a woman apart!

  He chuckled. “Are you sure you want to stop for belly-food? You can eat me all you want, and I promise to fill you up.”

  At his words, Chastity’s stomach almost did rebel. “Oh, yes,” she said quickly. “More sure than ever!” All she wanted was to be free of him, and then she’d be off to her room and safety. She had a few names and her nerve had utterly gone.

  He steered her into another room, his arm protection from the crowd, but also imprisonment. It would be almost impossible to break free, and if she did, he’d catch her in a moment. Would a scream for help achieve anything? If it did, it would probably expose her identity.

  She felt almost faint with horror at that thought.

  She’d rather be ravished.

  She would have to convince him she was as eager as he and hope he’d leave her side for a moment, perhaps to serve her with food.

  She wasn’t paying much attention to her surroundings except to note that the room was crowded, until those around let out a roar. She jumped. “What is it?” she gasped.

  “Haven’t you seen the theater yet, sweetheart?” Gresham asked. As if she were a child, he hoisted her on his shoulder.

  Chastity realized they were in Heatherington’s ‘theater.’ A plinth had been built at one end of the room and chairs set out for the audience. The entertainment was so popular that the chairs were all full and people were standing all around the room. Presumably this was where the singing had taken place earlier, but now the performance was not music but copulation.

  The couple were both naked except for full-face masks. They grunted and contorted in a most extraordinary position that Chastity would not have believed to be physically possible.

  She fought her way down.

  “Not to your liking?” Gresham asked in surprise.

  “Er . . . too stimulating!” Chastity gasped. “I really must control myself until I eat.”

  He chuckled and moved his back against the wall. He pulled her to him. “Hot, are you?” he asked. “Pity to waste it . . .” He pulled up her skirt at the back and fondled her thighs.

  Chastity wriggled desperately, but this only seemed to encourage him. Someone bumped into her from behind, knocking the breath out of her, but also knocking Gresham’s hand away.

  “Beg pardon,” the person murmured. Chastity stiffened as she recognized Cyn’s voice. Part of her wanted to hide; part of her wanted to scream for help.

  “Gresham,” he said casually. “I see you’ve found yourself a pleasant armful.”

>   “Indeed,” said Gresham, and turned Chastity in his arms. “Meet Lord Cyn, my pretty.” He placed his hands possessively over her breasts.

  Chastity prayed for the earth to swallow her. Cyn looked remarkably untussled for someone who’d been in this mayhem for over an hour. He clearly had no suspicion as to her identity. He smiled at her with careless good humor and gave a slight bow. “Charmed, my dear.”

  Chastity didn’t want him to recognize her, but nor did she want him to leave her here in the clutch of this giant. If necessary she’d reveal all. “The same, I’m sure,” she said in her false voice. “I’m not averse to entertaining two, handsome.”

  Gresham’s hands tightened. “Hey, none of that.”

  Cyn smiled. “I’m afraid that isn’t my game either, pretty one. If you want to seek me out privately later . . .”

  And how many assignations is that you’ve made? thought Chastity. And how many have you kept?

  Gresham chuckled. “She’ll be worn to a frazzle by later, my friend. I’d seek another partner if I were you.”

  Chastity forced a smile. “Oh, very well, but can’t we at least get to the food?”

  “All right, all right,” said Gresham, “we’ll find it.” As an aside he said to Cyn, “A wench of truly ferocious appetites.”

  “She’ll need to be,” said Cyn. “As it happens, I know where the food is. Come on, and I’ll show you.”

  The next room after the theater was almost empty and the people there appeared to be simply talking. Unfortunately one of the people present was Rothgar, offering snuff to no less a person than the Earl of Bute, confidant and mentor of the young king, supposed lover of the king’s mother! Was this place, then, the true face of Society? Could the king himself be present?

  Chastity glanced at Cyn, but he didn’t seem to have noticed his brother, and Rothgar had his back to them. Where, Chastity wondered, was the luscious Sable?

  Then they entered the next room where two tables were laden with food and drink. Unusually, there were no small tables, and so people had to eat standing up. A dozen or so guests were doing so, with strange hilarity.

  Strange until Chastity and her escort arrived at the tables. Even food, apparently, was not beyond the lewd ingenuity of Lord Heatherington.

  Down the center of each table, food had been formed into the shape of a body—a woman’s on one, a man’s on the other. Most of the interest centered on the female figure. Parsley nestled at the juncture of her blancmange thighs, and glacé cherries formed the nipples on the half-melons of her breasts. The men were leaning over to nibble off those cherries, which they then replaced from a bowl by the side.

  Chastity looked to the other table, where the cherry was predictably on the end of a cucumber. She grabbed some innocuous bread and cheese, thinking she’d never be able to eat cucumber again. Gresham moved over to take a turn at the cherries. This was her chance, but Cyn had stayed with her.

  She wondered what he would do if she slipped away—it was none of his business after all. On the other hand, this would be the only moment to warn him of his brother’s presence.

  She hesitated. She had to escape, but she could warn him first. He turned to the table to pick up a chicken leg and she plucked the note out of her bosom. She leaned over beside him, pressing against him as she reached across for some grapes. She slipped the note into his pocket.

  He turned quickly, frowning at her.

  “Why, what is it, my lord?” she asked, nervously.

  “Nothing,” he said, but with an intent look, as if he was seeing her for the first time.

  Chastity glanced at Gresham, who grinned at her and leaned down to seize a cherry in his teeth. He’d be back in a moment. “I must go,” she said. “I need to relieve myself!”

  He too glanced at Gresham, then grasped her wrist. “Come, then. I’ll show you where.”

  He dragged her from the room. Gresham let out an enraged bellow. Cyn pulled her down a short corridor and out into the chilly night.

  “What are you doing?” cried Chastity, gasping from the cold wind.

  “Finding you a place to piss, my lovely. That is what you want, isn’t it? Or was Gresham more than you could swallow?” He wasn’t like Cyn at all. He sounded hard and angry.

  “But it’s so cold!”

  He whipped off his coat and wrapped it around her. It formed a prison and he used it to drag her close.

  “My lord . . . !”

  His lips silenced her. They were hard and allowed no refusal, but Chastity melted. She’d hungered for this for so long. Did it matter that he didn’t know who she was? She’d take this moment and treasure it.

  Once she surrendered, she was lost. Her arms slid around his body. She molded herself to every inch of him. She took his tongue inside her, sweet and spicy . . .

  He suddenly broke free and dragged her further along the building behind some bushes, hushing her. He seemed breathless. Chastity was in a daze.

  Then she heard Gresham. “Where the devil is he? Ho! Malloren, you rogue! Come out and return my wench!”

  After a few more curses he went back into the house and slammed the door.

  Cyn rose and pulled her with him. “Do you want to rejoin him?”

  Chastity shook her head. She wanted to stay here with Cyn forever, safe and warm in his coat, and let the world go hang.

  He raised her chin with his knuckles. “What then do you want?” Still there was that hardness, but one thing was clear. This moment came from heaven. It was a chance to love Cyn without endangering him.

  “I want you,” she whispered.

  He caught his breath. “I wonder why . . .”

  There was no answer to that and so Chastity waited. He let his hand travel down her neck and shoulder and slid his fingers behind the stiff stomacher to touch her nipple. This evening had been too much for her, and her senses were disordered. She collapsed back against the rough brick wall and let him do as he willed.

  He rolled her nipple gently, and Chastity shivered in response. He pressed his hips against her, and she couldn’t help but thrust back at him.

  “You do want me, don’t you?” he said softly. “Well, my sweet little wanton, so too do I want you.” He pulled his fingers free and led her further along the house.

  “Where are we going?” asked Chastity, feeling raw in the cold night.

  “Via the kitchens. I don’t really want to have to duel my friend over you. You’re hardly worth that, are you?”

  Again that hardness gave Chastity a frisson of unease. She reminded herself that he didn’t know who she was; he thought her a whore, or a lady of very easy virtue. Did she really want to be treated as one?

  But, imperfect as it was, this would be their only chance. She went with him.

  Chapter 11

  They entered the kitchen and Chastity staggered at the heat and noise, amazed the house wasn’t on fire. The servants were roaring drunk, but trying to manage the spits and keep food and drink moving above stairs. Some had given up. A leg of mutton smoldered, and one drunken woman snored, slack-lipped, in a corner.

  No one noticed as Cyn appropriated a basket and put in some sliced meat, fruit pies, and a pot of whipped cream before leading Chastity onward. She looked back and saw a cook turn around and search blearily for his cream.

  They passed the butler’s pantry which conveniently had a half-dozen bottles of wine open. One bottle and a couple of glasses went into the basket. Chastity ventured a protest.

  Cyn glanced at her. “You did complain of hunger, sweeting. I intend to satisfy you in all respects.”

  He was smiling and yet still she sensed a chill behind it. In a way she welcomed the coolness. She didn’t want him to feel warmly toward this chance-met doxy.

  Yet again, she acknowledged, they were living a lie.

  He led the way to a set of narrow servants’ stairs. There were candles standing in a row, and a lamp to light them by. Cyn lit one and gave it to Chastity to carry as they climbed the
stairs.

  Cyn would have been hard put to express what he felt at this development. She was a wanton, after all. He’d left her safe in her room then found her, painted in her true colors, playing the whore. She had no reason to join this company except to seek a man.

  He could have wept.

  On the other hand, he was going to have her. If she thought to trick him as she’d tricked Gresham, she’d catch cold at it. She’d expressed willingness; she had come without protest; soon he’d be able to assuage the lust that had been tormenting him for days. That kiss alone had been enough to set his body throbbing.

  And by God, he’d make sure she remembered him. Perhaps she had rolled in bed with half the men in England, but she wouldn’t forget Cyn Malloren.

  He led the way up two flights of stairs and opened the baize-covered door into a quiet, dusty passageway. “I thought so. Nursery wing. And long unused.”

  In this quiet corner the orgy below might as well not exist. It was cold, though, and even within his coat, Chastity shivered. He checked the four rooms, then indicated one. This had probably been the nurse’s room, for it had a narrow bed with a blanket and quilt still on it.

  He placed the basket on the floor and checked the fireplace. “There’s kindling still here and a few coals in the scuttle. Perhaps we can have a fire.”

  Chastity put the candle on the floor, its light meager even in the small room. She hugged herself in his coat, drowning in the faint aroma that was Cyn, but beginning to have doubts. What was Lady Chastity Ware doing in this dusty room with this man? How had her life led to this moment?

  There were some mouse-nibbled books on a shelf, and he tore them up to start the blaze, then applied the candle. Flames leaped up, then the dry twigs crackled. Chastity moved instinctively closer to the fire.

  He looked up. “I think it will catch, and the chimney seems clear. It will be a while, though, before it gives much warmth.”

  “At least there’s light.” The room already seemed cozier for the fire.