Kenleigh-Blakewell Family Saga Boxed Set (Books 1 & 2)

by Pamela Clare

  She kissed a path along the valley that ran down the center of his belly, then took his shaft in her hand. She’d learned a few things about pleasuring him since the first time she’d tasted him, and she was going to put them all to good use. Holding him firmly with one hand, she began to tease the head with her tongue, tracing swirling shapes over, around, and under. Then she took him into her mouth and began to move her mouth and hand together up and down his length, laving him with her tongue all the while.

  “Sweet Jesus!” His eyes were closed, his brow furrowed. His hands gripped the chains that held him fast. His hips matched her rhythm, and Cassie could tell his climax was near.

  She stopped, fondled his sac, and let his passion cool.

  “Christ!” His voice was ragged with arousal.

  Cassie found herself battling to control her own flaming desire. She’d never been in control before, and the thrill of it was like a powerful wine coursing through her blood. She wanted him inside her, but she could not, would not let herself have him—not yet. She ravished him with her mouth and tongue again and again, taking him to the brink, then stopping. His entire body was taut with unspent passion, and the sounds that came from his throat told her he was as desperate as she. Unable to bear it longer, she lifted her gown and straddled him. She saw his pupils dilate when he felt his skin touch her bare thighs and bottom.

  His gaze devoured her. “I want to touch your breasts.”

  Cassie opened her bodice more, lifted her breasts so that he could see them, and circled her nipples with her thumbs. “No.”

  His eyes held hot fury and lust. He jerked on his bonds, the muscles of his arms and chest straining, but the chains held fast. “You are cruel.”

  “But not heartless. I want your cock inside me now. That ought to please you.” Cassie rested her hands on his chest to balance her weight, then lifted her hips and carefully guided him inside her.

  They moaned almost in unison as their bodies joined. She rode him, grinding against him to pleasure herself. Though she knew it would not be enough to bring him to climax, it was everything she needed. With him thick and hard deep inside her, she quickly felt her peak near and let it wash gloriously over her as her sheath contracted around him.

  Her cries of pleasure mixed with his tortured groans, and she knew his anguish was real. She would have to end this game, or at least give him his reward for playing along so nobly.

  “Have you learned your lesson, convict?” She reached between her breasts for the key and dangled it before him.

  Then a hand clamped over her mouth, and, in a whirl of motion, she found herself facedown on the bed, one arm bent behind her back.

  “I tried to warn you, mistress.” His voice was harsh. “You should never ask a felon to lock himself up. He might not be trustworthy. Scream, and it will be the last sound you make. Do you understand?”

  She nodded gravely, her heart pounding with intense excitement.

  He removed his hand from her mouth, and she heard the clinking of chains as he dragged them toward her.

  “Don’t hurt me!” Her voice quavered with anticipation, and her plea sounded genuine.

  “No? If your body provides me with enough pleasure, perhaps I shall spare you. You are a pretty thing. It would be a shame if I had to mar your lovely skin.” He took her other arm and brought it behind her back.

  She felt the cold touch of iron. Then she heard two distinct clicks—much louder clicks than she’d heard when he’d locked himself up—and knew she was shackled. Her pulse raced. She had not planned this!

  “What have we here?”

  She felt him lift her skirts and pile them up around her waist, baring her bottom.

  “You’ve got a nice ass, mistress, round and pink.” His hands stroked her buttocks, raising goose bumps on her skin. Because she could not see him, she could only guess what he might do next. She felt wonderfully helpless. It was more titillating than she could have imagined.

  “I can smell you from here—hot, musky, ready for me.”

  She felt him move between her thighs, cried out when he forced them wide apart. His fingers found her, penetrated her. She heard herself moan, felt her ardor rise again.

  “You’re so wet. You must have enjoyed yourself.” He stroked her deeply. “Now it’s my turn.”

  Cassie began to struggle. She twisted and tried to inch away from him across the bed.

  He laughed and held her legs still beneath his. “You can’t fight me, love, though you can amuse me by trying.” He pulled her bodice down over her shoulders, then reached beneath her to fondle her breasts. “I’m really going to savor this.”

  His fingers were rough, but he didn’t actually hurt her. Instead he drove her mad. Her nipples grew hard as he rolled them between his fingers. “Oh, please!”

  “Not such a lady, after all, Mistress? Want me to take you?”

  “Oh, aye!”

  She cried out as he plunged into her. Deep and hard he drove into her again and again, his hands grasping her hips. It felt so good. Then he angled himself to strike the most sensitive part inside her, and Cassie felt the world around her shatter. Her cries mixed with his deep groans as he spilled his seed against her womb.

  Later, when her dress had been hung carefully in her wardrobe and the shackles had been hidden away, Cassie crawled into his arms and snuggled against the warmth of his chest.

  “Were you surprised?” She released the giggle she’d held back all night.

  “Aye. I must say I was.” He smiled, his face unbearably handsome. He traced the curve of her cheek with his hand. “I didn’t realize you were capable of such … fantasy. But now that I know … ” He smiled a slow, wicked smile.

  “You were never really chained, were you?”

  He chuckled. “No. But I let you think I was.”

  “Why?”

  “I wanted to see what you would do. I wasn’t disappointed.”

  Then she remembered. “You were afraid to put the shackles on, weren’t you?”

  “I have these memories. Just images really, feelings.” He stopped, his face clouded.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

  He held a finger to her lips to still her, his gaze capturing hers. “They’re only memories, love. They could in no way compete with the delight you were offering.”

  “Then you didn’t mind?”

  “You can shackle me anytime, Mistress.”

  * * *

  A dog yelped.

  Wood cracked, crashed to the floor.

  Cassie heard herself scream. She sat bolt upright, heart pounding sickeningly against her breast.

  It was a nightmare.

  “Take the boy and the pup to my carriage. And have a care.”

  It was no nightmare. This was real.

  “Alec!”

  Men—six, maybe seven—streamed through the gap where her bedroom door had been. It lay on the floor, splintered. Alec was already out of bed, on his feet, still naked. He’d knocked one man to the ground. The second fell as Alec broke Cassie’s dressing table chair across his back. But there were too many of them. Within seconds four men had fallen upon Alec with fists and cudgels, raining blow after blow, driving him to the floor. Henry, the old Scot, was among them, a smug look on his face, his gaze traveling over Cassie’s naked body.

  “Alec!”

  Heedless of her own nakedness, Cassie sprang from the bed to help him, only to feel arms grab her from behind. Twisting and kicking, she fought her attacker, but to no avail.

  “You go with me.”

  Cassie knew that voice. She froze.

  “That’s better.” One of his hands covered her mouth, while the other moved slowly over the skin of her bare belly, making her stomach lurch. “If I hadn’t seen this myself, I’d never have believed it. How could you?”

  Cassie renewed her struggle, aware of men’s eyes upon her, only to be thrown roughly onto her bed.

  Geoffrey stood above her, his gaze running over
her body, his expression a combination of lust and disgust. “Get dressed.”

  Shaking uncontrollably, Cassie fumbled for her shift, pulled it hastily over her head, and reached for her dressing gown, her only thought to reach Alec. Pray God he was not badly hurt!

  “My father will not stand for this.” Her voice shook as badly as her legs. “When he—”

  Geoffrey laughed at her. “Your father is a danger to no one save himself.”

  Cassie felt the blood rush to her head. He knew! But how?

  “You thought to fool me with your game, love? You forget how well I know you.”

  “Where is Jamie?”

  And where was Micah? Why had no one come to their aid? This could not be happening!

  “He is waiting for us in my carriage, love. I would never harm the boy.” Geoffrey turned to his men. “Get him up!”

  The men who’d attacked Alec moved apart, two of them pulling Alec to his knees, Henry lifting Alec’s head by a handful of hair. Alec was bruised and battered, barely conscious. Blood streamed from a cut on his forehead.

  “Oh, God, Alec!” Tears spilled down Cassie’s face unheeded. She would have rushed to his side had Geoffrey not pulled her tightly against his chest, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh.

  “Get him to his feet,” he said to his men. “I want him awake for what comes next.”

  Geoffrey’s henchmen laughed. Henry produced a hunting knife as the others struggled to pull Alec to his feet.

  Fear coursed through Cassie’s veins like a sickness. “Geoffrey, no! What are you doing?”

  “You shall see, my love.”

  Alec’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze sweeping the room before coming to rest softly on her. “Are you hurt?”

  “No.”

  Then Alec’s gaze locked on Geoffrey, blue hardening with hatred to steel gray. “Harm her, and I’ll watch you die.”

  Alec’s voice was strong, but Cassie could tell he was in pain.

  “You’re hardly in any position to be making threats, convict. Besides, I’ve no intention of harming Catherine. She’s to be my bride.”

  Cassie started to object, but was cut off.

  “As long as the priest is honest and requires the bride’s consent, you’ll sleep alone, Crichton.”

  One of Geoffrey’s thugs slammed a fist into Alec’s gut, forcing the air from his lungs.

  “Leave him alone!” Cassie lunged forward, only to find herself jerked painfully back against Geoffrey’s chest. She watched, helpless, as Alec struggled to regain his breath.

  He met Geoffrey’s gaze, loathing in his eyes. “Do you fear me so greatly you bring seven men to do your bidding, while you attack a woman?”

  Geoffrey’s fingers dug deeper into Cassie’s arms. “A man of my station need not sully his hands with this sort of thing. When I want to butcher a pig, I merely send for the butcher.”

  He motioned Henry forward.

  Cassie screamed and fought to pull free, lashing out at Geoffrey with teeth and nails.

  “Be still now, love. It’s not as bad as that,” Geoffrey captured her arms roughly and crushed her against him. “I’m not going to kill him. You’d pine for him forever, and I’ve no intention of competing with a ghost. No, he will live, but not as a man. Seeing him years from now, bent, broken, pathetic, you will come to loathe him and rue the day you let him share your bed.”

  Cassie watched in horror as Henry tested the knife’s weight in his hand and moved forward. “Wh-what are you going to do?”

  “Geld him.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  “God, no!” Cassie’s heart slammed so hard in her chest, she feared it would explode.

  “Do what you will, Crichton.” Alec glared at Geoffrey, his face betraying no fear. “I’ll still be more of a man than you.”

  Before she knew what she was about, Cassie had thrown all her weight against Geoffrey, butting her head into his jaw and knocking him backward onto the floor. Breaking free, she pushed past the men who surrounded Alec and fell to her knees before him, shielding his nakedness behind her.

  “No!” Low and guttural, the voice did not sound like her own. “You’ll not touch him, else I swear, Geoffrey, I shall but live to do the same to you! You will live your life in fear, I swear it!”

  Geoffrey stood slowly, rubbing his jaw. He looked at her, surprise and fury written plainly on his face. For a moment, Cassie was sure he would strike her.

  “Hurt her, Crichton, and you’re a dead man.”

  “I think not, convict. You shall live to know that I do with her whatever I please.” Geoffrey grabbed a handful of Cassie’s hair and yanked her to her feet, jerking her toward him and ignoring Alec’s curses. “Flog him.”

  “Geoffrey, no! You cannot do this!” Propelled down the stairs with one arm wrenched painfully behind her back, Cassie struggled not to trip.

  “I can. I will. It is within the bounds of the law for me to see him hanged for seducing you, but I’m afraid that would make him a martyr in your eyes.”

  “Seducing me? I assure you I lay with him most willingly!”

  Geoffrey wrenched her arm until she cried out in pain. “Say that again, and I will castrate him,” he whispered gruffly in her ear.

  “Please, Geoffrey, I beg you not to hurt him. Your men have already beaten him senseless. What can you possibly hope to gain?”

  “A measure of satisfaction.”

  The cruelty of his answer left her momentarily speechless.

  “Please, I will do anything you ask, only do not hurt him!”

  Geoffrey ignored her pleas, pulled her aside to let his men pass, and instructed them to tie Alec to the well post.

  “Alec!” Cassie kicked Geoffrey in the shins, biting the arm he held across her chest. “You bastard!”

  Something struck her temple. Pain shot through her skull. The world spun. Her legs gave way.

  “Don’t make me punish you!”

  Cassie struggled to lift her head. For the briefest second, her gaze met Alec’s. She saw only fury in his eyes.

  I love you! Her lips formed the words in silence.

  But it was too late. Geoffrey’s thugs forced him out the door and down the porch steps.

  Outside stood at least a dozen men, holding torches and brandishing firearms. Just beyond the torchlight, Cassie saw the horrified faces of the plantation’s inhabitants—Nan, Nettie, Luke, Micah, Zach, and the others—their features cast half in torchlight and half in shadow. Nan was weeping. Micah was bleeding from a cut on his forehead. Zach had fresh bruises on his face. They’d been roused from their beds—roused then subdued, Cassie realized—to witness this.

  Tears stung her eyes, and her head throbbed, but she forced her shoulders back and lifted her chin. She had done nothing of which she was ashamed. She would be strong for them. For Jamie, who was no doubt crying for her in the carriage. Most of all for Alec, who was to be tortured without even the dignity of clothing. Geoffrey pushed her to a spot along the porch railing, one arm around her waist, the other still holding her arm twisted painfully behind her back.

  “I want you to have a good view, my dear.”

  “Sir, the boy is gone!”

  Jamie! Cassie’s heart leaped. Oh, God, had he escaped? How scared he must be.

  “Gone?”

  Surely Takotah would find and hide him. Cassie drew deep breaths, relieved at least that the child would not be forced to witness this horror. Alec was his hero.

  “Aye, Sir. I turned my head for but a moment, Sir, and he vanished!”

  “Takotah,” Geoffrey mumbled. “Find the Indian witch!”

  The man hesitated, fear written on his face.

  “Find the boy, or it will be your hide that suffers the lash next!”

  The man fled.

  Just then the night was rent by a sharp crack as Geoffrey’s henchman began to warm up his arm, the whip snapping in the air. Chills of horror raced along Cassie’s spine. Alec’s arms were stretched over
his head, his wrists tied to the well’s wooden frame. Naked, the skin of his back and buttocks bare to torchlight, he looked defenseless.

  Tears streamed down Cassie’s cheeks as she offered up bits and pieces of every prayer she could remember. “Geoffrey, you must not do this! Don’t hurt him! I will go with you, do whatever you ask!”

  Geoffrey ignored her completely. “Get on with it!”

  This could not be happening! There had never been a flogging at Blakewell’s Neck.

  “No! Please, Geoffrey, I beg—”

  The first crack of the whip against Alec’s bare skin tore a scream from Cassie’s throat and made her knees buckle. “Alec!”

  Geoffrey clamped a hand painfully over her mouth and forced her head up.

  “Hush, love! No one has taken the whip to your pretty skin.”

  There came another sickening crack, another, another, and another, until Cassie’s head echoed with her own silenced screams.

  * * *

  Searing pain tore at his back. His skin was in flames.

  “Sure and this will take some of the fight out of ’im.”

  “Aye.”

  Another blow landed between his shoulders, forcing a groan from his throat, drawing cackles from his tormentors. The ground pitched and rolled under his feet. Metal pinched his wrists and ankles. His head throbbed.

  Where was he? The floor beneath him heaved. How had he come to be on a ship?

  He had been kidnapped. That was it. He remembered now.

  Another blow. Agony forced the air from his lungs, made his head spin.

  Then he heard a scream.

  “Alec!”

  It was Cassie. The bastards had her, too.

  “Touch her, Crichton, and you’re a dead man!”

  But Crichton merely laughed.

  “No, Geoffrey, please!”

  It was Cassie’s voice again. But where was she?

  Twisting his head, Alec tried to find her. He had to find her. But it was so dark. No matter how hard he tried to see, his eyes could not penetrate the blackness.