My Liege of Dark Haven

by Cherise Sinclair

  “Do you enjoy having me under your command?” he asked.

  She laughed.

  “Do you?”

  Her hand came to rest on his lower leg like a bird ready to fly at the least movement. “I…” Her delightful mind engaged and hummed.

  “Go on.”

  “Not really. I just like seeing you comfortable.”

  “Knowing you fixed it all?” When she absently stroked circles over his skin, he realized he wasn’t completely overwhelmed by pain.

  “Sounds rather pompous, doesn’t it?”

  No, it sounded like the glow a service submissive got from helping others. When he’d seen her contentment in feeding the pups, he should have recognized the trait. He frowned. Her father’s behavior must have traumatized a child who wanted only to please. “You like helping.”

  “Of course. Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Not…quite. Think about after an orgasm. You’re closer to your partner; everything in the world feels right.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “And?”

  “Some submissives feel that way when they meet the needs of others.” He reached down to take her hand. “Is that how you feel now?”

  “Um. I suppose. I never noticed before, but yes.”

  A submissive’s satisfaction was increased when serving her Master. Only he wasn’t, shouldn’t be. Didn’t want to be. Don’t lie to yourself, Leduc.

  If he let her go now, she’d disappear from his life. He’d thought that would be the best choice for both of them. Now he was beginning to wonder. “Your relationship with Nathan is over, correct?”

  “Oh, definitely.” Perhaps realizing what his question implied, she tried to pull her hand away.

  “Little fluff, you stubbornly inserted yourself into my life, even when I was angry. What happens now that I’m not angry?”

  “I…don’t know.” Eyes the gray of the city fog met his. “I don’t want another relationship. Not for a long, long time.”

  He understood. Time must pass before the feeling of being betrayed would lessen. For both of them. And yet… “During the chess game, we’d reached an agreement.”

  “That was before.”

  Before the disaster. She wanted to be with him. But she didn’t know him well, and she’d been hurt. How brave was the little professor?

  “Besides, in a day or so you won’t need me,” she said.

  He studied her. “You believe I want you here only because I’m injured?” Nathan had really damaged her self-confidence.

  “Well…yes.” Her gaze was straight and level.

  Again he was pleased he hadn’t misread her honesty; although in order to keep the peace, she buried matters she should share. They’d work on the problem.

  “Lie down here.” He patted his chest. Her expression turned wary as she registered his shift from friendly to dominant. But she wanted this, even if she didn’t recognize it.

  “It’ll hurt your ankle.”

  His frown stopped further protests. His leg was angled to one side with his ankle safely cushioned on a pillow. He took her hand and pulled her down on top of him. As she gave in and snuggled against him, her legs between his, he wrapped his good arm around her.

  Yes, he wanted her to stay. “Let’s discuss this.” He rubbed his chin on the top of her silky hair. She was as cuddly as her puppies. “Can you share why you think I don’t want more from you than servitude?”

  “Aren’t discussions supposed to be two-sided?”

  “Yes, they are.” He grinned. Intelligent women were amazingly sexy. He laid his palm on the curve between her shoulder and neck, resting his thumb on her carotid artery. A little fast. “I’ll let you start so I can answer your concerns.”

  Her huff held exasperation and a touch of anxiety. She remained silent for a minute. “First, you don’t like me much after finding out about the research. Second, you were angry about Nathan. You thought I’d lied to you. Third, I hear the women you bring here are impeccably trained slaves. Fourth, I’m not glamorous or gorgeous enough for you. Fifth, we’re not alike at all. I’m middle-class. And a nerd.”

  She was delightful. He kept his chin on her head, not wanting her feelings hurt if she saw him smile. “Nice and orderly. First, I understand why you infiltrated my club—your fear of being laid off and to find out more about BDSM.” For someone who didn’t deserve her. “Since the end is so close, I’m inclined to let you continue…under certain conditions.”

  She jerked in surprise. “Really?”

  “If I read and approve of the paper. And if you make amends to the club members. I’d have to announce what you were doing, so those who feel uncomfortable can stay away.”

  “But you’d do that?”

  “Ah…” Yes, he should warn her. “Abby, you’ve seen submissives punished. How much does this matter to you?”

  Her soft body tensed. He heard her swallow. “What would I have to do?”

  “I won’t share that with you until the time comes.”

  Another swallow.

  “Okay,” she whispered. “I need to finish my research—and to apologize to people.”

  “Excellent. I’ll have something to look forward to.”

  Her under-the-breath, “Oh, good,” made him chuckle.

  “Second, I was angry about Nathan. But he lied. You didn’t. At this point I’m simply sorry that he hurt you.”

  She pulled in a shuddering breath and buried her head in his shoulder. Her job at risk, her lover cheating on her. Poor professor. His desire to make her world right surprised him, not in the existence, but in the intensity.

  “Third, I do invite trained slaves here, both for my enjoyment and because I need to know them to find them the best Master.”

  Her head lifted. “You help slaves without Masters because of Catherine, don’t you? Because she was so lost.”

  The ache of grief had softened, not died. “Yes. That’s why.”

  “I thought the slaves served you, not another Master.”

  “When they’re here, they do. In any way I ask.”

  “Oh.” She’d stiffened in his arms.

  “But I prefer a Dominant/submissive relationship to Master/slave, Abby.”

  She didn’t relax. A little insecurity in a submissive wasn’t a bad thing, but her doubts shouldn’t be whether the Dominant cared. Time to direct that uneasiness into a different channel. “Sit up and straddle me. Then unbutton your shirt.”

  Her eyes widened.

  No, I’m not an easy man. He waited.

  Biting her lip, she pushed up and rested her weight on his hips. Button by button she opened her flannel shirt. Such creamy skin.

  “Pretty bra, but it’s in my way. Open it.”

  Her breathing increased as she undid the front latch.

  “Very good.” With his left hand, he pushed her arms to the sides and pulled open her shirt. Her nipples had contracted into pale pink buds. “You have beautiful breasts, little fluff. I enjoy looking at them.”

  He also enjoyed the tiny shiver that ran through her. Rather than touching her as expected, he continued. “What was four again?”

  Her pale brows drew together; she’d forgotten their discussion. “Um. Glamorous.”

  “Ah. And gorgeous.” Women. At least men usually worried only if their dicks were big enough. Females worried about everything: hips, chest, hair, fingers. He’d heard one woman fret over the shape of her fingernails. “Ninety-nine percent of glamour is from the clothing and makeup.” Although he dated flashy women for social functions—mostly for the effect on other men—he rarely asked them out more than three or four times. But that number was irrelevant; the point was that Abby felt insecure. “Now, I wouldn’t call you gorgeous.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “But you are lovely.”

  “I’m what?” Surprise chased across her expression.

  “We’ll use my definitions,” he said, striving for a properly pompous professorial tone. “Gorgeous indicates a surfa
ce beauty. Loveliness is a gestalt of personality and appearance, both required.” He smiled. “One of my earliest lovers was a French woman. Older, with wrinkles. Sagging skin and breasts. Big nose. Not gorgeous. But she had confidence, kindness, and a joyful sexuality that couldn’t be resisted. Wherever she went, men followed as if on a leash. Me included.”

  Abby’s gray eyes lit as if the sun had risen behind morning clouds.

  “Now there,” he murmured. “When you smile, you have the same appeal.” He stroked his finger down her cheek. “You’re like a luminous moon fairy, and added to that is your sweetness and intelligence. You’re lovely, Abby.”

  Her face was confused. Vulnerable.

  “Didn’t Nathan ever tell you that?” Oh, bad, Leduc. Not the time to bring up former lovers.

  Color rolled into her cheeks. “I’ve been called pretty.” A hint of pain crossed her face. “My stepsister is…gorgeous…and she could take a man away from me with a snap of her fingers.”

  And obviously had. Life wasn’t always fair. “If that was her typical behavior, I daresay she lost them as quickly.”

  She gave a husky chuckle. “I guess she did.”

  “You delight me, Abby.” Xavier curled his fingers over her nape and drew her down. He kissed her gently. Her instant response never failed to please him.

  When he released her, she pushed back up to stare at him. Her fluffy hair fell over her cheeks.

  “Last concern, you think we’re not alike at all.” A kiss. “If you’re a nerd, and I’m the opposite, does that mean you believe I’m stupid?”

  She inhaled sharply, spotting the insult. He let her see the disapproval in his eyes.

  “No. Of course not. That’s not what I meant.”

  “We’re both smart, then?” he asked. She was trapped. Why men needed to hunt the forests, he’d never understood. Not when there was so much better sport at home.

  “Yes.”

  “Mmmmh.” He touched her chin. “If I told you I came from a redneck working family, would you tell me I wasn’t good enough for you? Because your family has more money?”

  “No. That isn’t it.”

  Tenderhearted little fluff. “Then I lack any understanding of your last point.”

  She glared at him. “You’re definitely not stupid.”

  He grinned and set his hand back on her neck. “Now it’s my turn, isn’t it?”

  He felt her pulse pick up. “Yes, I believe so.”

  “Hmm. One, I like you, Abigail. I like your intelligence, your laugh, your willingness to care for puppies and grumpy Doms, your wayward hair, and the way your mind works.”

  Her eyes were wide now as she drank in his words like a plant at the end of a drought.

  “Two, as a Dom I look for a certain personality in a submissive.” He ran his finger over her lower lip, feeling the tiny quiver, so quickly controlled. “You love to help, to make people—and puppies—happy. But you don’t surrender to every man walking in the door. Not even Nathan.” He smiled at her. “It seems you’ve reserved your submission for me, and I value that.

  “Three, you enjoy a fair amount of erotic pain, but you’re not a masochist. You don’t have any hard limits that would bother me, and as far as I’ve found, you don’t want something I can’t provide.”

  Her eyes kept getting wider.

  “Four, I liked having you in my home today, even though I’m not at my best. I’d like you to be here longer, so I can treat you”—he tugged her nipple firmly enough that her back arched and her eyes dilated—“a bit rougher.”

  He pulled her down for a long, wet kiss. “I can’t think of a number five. Do you have anything you want to counter with?”

  “I… No.”

  “Then we’ll simply see how it goes. Stay here with me, Abby.”

  “As a slave?”

  “No, little fluff. As a sexual submissive.” He grinned when a shiver ran through her. “Your life is your own.” He rubbed his knuckles over her smooth cheek. “I just get to rule it now and then.” He waited.

  “I’ll stay. My liege.”

  “Excellent. Go clean up. Then come back here.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not a good idea. I might bump your leg.”

  “You’ll sleep with me.” He pointed at the bathroom. “There are spare toothbrushes and such in the drawers.”

  As she slid off the bed, he studied her face. The worry was gone, leaving peace behind. She wanted his control as much as he wanted to exert it. And although terrified of altercations, she’d dared his displeasure for his own good. She was a bundle of contradictions, wasn’t she?

  She returned, face pink from scrubbing.

  “Clothes off.”

  Her fingers shook as she removed her shirt. After setting her glasses on the bedside table, she flipped the light switch to put the room in darkness before stripping the rest of the way.

  “Did you acquire something I haven’t seen before?”

  “That’s not the point. Can I sleep in one of your T-shirts?”

  “No, you may not.” No submissive wore clothes in his bed.

  With a grumbling mutter, she carefully crawled in beside him. Ignoring her attempt to keep a distance, he pulled her closer. His immobility made him want to curse—moving her would have been easier with two arms.

  Her body stayed stiff and motionless for a minute, and then she relaxed with a disgruntled sound. “Are you really all right?”

  “Sore and irritated, but tomorrow will be better.” He tightened his arm around her. “Thank you for your care, Abby.”

  She rubbed her cheek on his shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

  He thought about something and sighed. “I assume I’m getting five puppies as interim boarders?”

  Her laugh lifted his heart.

  Yes, it felt right to have her snuggled close as the quiet of the night surrounded them.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Trying not to gawk, Abby stopped at the lobby desk in the building where Xavier’s office was located.

  Phone to her ear, the receptionist smiled and held up a finger to wait.

  Not a problem. Abby turned in a circle to admire the two-story foyer. Rather than a typical ultrasleek modern design, the lobby had long planters of foliage taking advantage of the light streaming in from the all-glass front. The massive desk was a beautiful curve of dark wood that matched that of the inner balcony railing above. The fragrance of pastries and coffee came from an espresso shop to one side.

  “Can I help you?” the receptionist asked, setting down the phone.

  “I’m here to see Xavier Leduc. Could you tell me what office he’s in?”

  “Do you have an appointment?” The older woman wore a dark-red suit, her hair and makeup impeccable.

  “No. Not exactly.”

  The woman frowned at Abby’s jeans and green hoodie. “Miss, if you want to fill out a job application, then you need office one hundred, right over there.” She pointed to a glass-fronted office across the wide foyer. “Just go inside, and someone will help you.”

  “Thank you, but I’m not looking for a job. I’m picking Xavier up.”

  Short and squat, the woman reminded Abby of a bulldog. Fully as stubborn too. “Mr. Leduc doesn’t—”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t want to cause problems for you. But he is expecting me. Please just let him know that Abigail is here.”

  Her stubbornness won out. “Of course, miss. If you’ll wait over there, I’ll ring his admin.”

  As Abby took a well-cushioned chair in a beautifully appointed waiting area, she frowned. Why would the owner of a BDSM club need an admin? Or an office in this fancy building for that matter. Then again, considering his home, the club must be making some pretty good money. Or maybe he had another business as well?

  Honestly, though, he could have left word so she didn’t have to fight off territorial bulldogs.

  As she picked up a magazine, she glanced at the reception desk. The woman had summoned a
security guard. For heaven’s sake.

  “She says she’s picking up Mr. Leduc,” Ms. Bulldog said in a low tone.

  Abby looked down before the guard turned. He made a laughing sound. “She’s sure nothing like his usual lady friends.”

  “Exactly. I’m calling Mrs. Benton now. Can you show her out when his admin tells me she’s never heard of her?” Clicking sounds. “Yes, Mrs. Benton, I have an Abigail here saying she’s supposed to pick up Mr.— Excuse me? Send her up if she wouldn’t mind?” The bulldog actually sputtered.

  Abby smothered a grin. Okay, Xavier, you’re forgiven all the nasty thoughts.

  “Miss?”

  She looked up. The security guard smiled politely. Respectfully. “I’ll escort you up.”

  The guard used a locked elevator at the end of the elevator banks. When he punched the highest button, Abby’s stomach roiled like she’d chugged a soda.

  She swallowed. “Does this building have a name? I didn’t see a sign.”

  “Nah. Something smashed it in the last storm, and the new one isn’t finished yet. Leduc Industries, it’s called.”

  “The whole building?” Oh, this isn’t good. Whether it felt like stalking or not, she should have googled the man. She felt like thumping her head against the elevator door. “How many Leducs are there?”

  The door slid open silently, and the guard stepped out with her. The creamy carpet was thick enough to drown in, and the statuary looked much like what was in Xavier’s home.

  “How many?” He gave her a startled look “Just the one.”

  Abby closed her eyes and pulled in a breath. Don’t be a moron—Xavier is the same man. He hadn’t changed because she learned he had a bit more money than a club owner did. A whole lot more money. Don’t get all weird. Even as she told herself that, she wished she’d worn something nicer than jeans, running shoes, and a hooded sweatshirt.

  “You must be Dr. Bern.” The brunette woman rose from behind the desk. Her brown eyes were surprisingly welcoming. “I’m Mrs. Benton, Mr. Leduc’s administrative assistant. Let me show you the way.”

  But it wasn’t necessary. An office door opened, and Xavier wheeled himself out. Or tried to. The plush carpet wasn’t wheelchair friendly, especially when he couldn’t use both arms. He smiled a welcome, but the muscles of his face were tight, his cheekbones stark, and his color almost gray. “Abby, I’m—”