Her father nodded impatiently. “As long as you don’t become a glutton, daughter. But you are tardy with my afternoon tea, so attend to the task with proper diligence and do not break anything else. Haste to visit your friends is not sufficient excuse for poor effort. Unless there is something else distracting you? Something to confess, perhaps?”
Reverend Blair asked this of everyone, so it wasn’t a pointed question. Usually she could honestly reply nothing. Not today, though, when she would soon be finalizing a wicked contract with the Duke of Gilroy, and paying him the token sum of a shilling to bed her. On the carriage ride home Ruth and Martha had explained the true cost of a London lover; she now knew exactly how great a favor the duke had granted her, and the generous act made him even more attractive.
“Only the sin of coveting berries and clotted cream,” Ada replied, forcing a laugh. She hated to lie, but would tell a hundred to get to the cottage.
Ernest tilted his head and fixed his dark gaze on her, a tactic alongside the fire and brimstone that was remarkably successful in extracting information from his parishioners. Fortunately, she was immune to it after twenty-nine years, and when she merely continued to smile, he huffed out a breath.
“Clean up this mess and bring me my tea. After that you may visit with Miss Lacey and Miss Kinloch. Don’t forget to change your gown and brush your hair. You look a fright,” said Ernest over his shoulder as he marched from the kitchen.
Ada sank against the cool stone wall, gulping in air. Then she did as she was bid, her movements deliberately slow and methodical as she mopped up the spilled tea, prepared a fresh tray, and delivered it to her father’s small study. Afterward, she dashed to her bedroom, Deborah behind her to assist with the gown change.
What did a woman wear for such a momentous occasion?
Ada perused her meager collection of gowns. Reverend Blair would be extremely suspicious if she wore her rose-pink Sunday best to darn with Ruth and Martha, so she couldn’t wear that one. Gilroy had already seen her in pale blue, and the white lace-trimmed gown would be a trite and unwanted reminder of her maiden state. That left a dark brown serge more suited to the colder months, a bronze-striped calico she often wore to clean, or a primrose-yellow cotton a little faded now from frequent laundering.
“Yellow, I think,” she said.
“You always look lovely in it. Like a sunbeam,” said Deborah with a grin. “I’m sure His Grace will appreciate it.”
Ada stared in horror at the younger, red-haired woman. “Beg pardon?” she croaked.
“Oh, come now, Miss Ada. We have an actual duke nearby. Just about every unmarried woman within fifty miles is putting on a pretty gown for an outing to Cheltenham, hoping that he’ll see her from his carriage and fall madly in love.”
Relief nearly sent her to her knees. The Grand Cock Plan hadn’t been discovered. “From what I hear, His Grace is not a man to fall to Cupid’s arrow. But when he crosses my path, as fate insists he will, I’ll be sure to smile sweetly.”
Deborah giggled. “Then we must ensure you look tip-top. I shall do my best with your hair, but it does have a mind of its own.”
Once gowned in yellow, with her blond curls partially tamed, Ada hurried to Ruth and Martha’s cottage. The front door opened immediately, and Martha ushered her into the parlor.
“My dear! We’d started to think you had changed your mind.”
“It’s been one of those mornings,” said Ada ruefully. “I’ve never been so clumsy in my life. Oh, by the by, today we are darning trousers for the charity box, and you bribed me with berries and clotted cream to assist you.”
Martha smirked. “Fortunately, I have a pile I darned last night while Ruth read me the next chapter from Udolpho. It’s so thrilling. Much like your duke.”
“He’s not my duke.”
“Not yet,” said Ruth as she entered the room. “But given time, who knows? Now. As the Grand Cock Plan continues into its second day, have you given any thought to what you want included in the contract?”
Ada shook her head. “Er…no. Not beyond bedding, anyway.”
“How exactly would you like to be pleasured? Kisses? Tongue? Fingers?” asked Martha, as casually as one might inquire about the weather.
Thankfully she was past being shocked by frank talk. “Am I allowed more than one way?”
The two older ladies burst out laughing.
“Oh, hush up,” said Ada, rolling her eyes. That was the whole point of this contract. She would learn the things that no one apart from Ruth and Martha even hinted at because she was the vicar’s spinster daughter.
“Forgive us our merriment, but you have some treats ahead,” said Ruth. “Martha love, fetch a pencil and some paper so she might write our suggestions down. We don’t have much time before they meet at the cottage.”
When all three women were settled comfortably in the parlor, Ada looked expectantly at her godmothers. “So. What should I definitely ask him to do if he’s willing?”
Ruth smiled approvingly. “I’m glad you are entering negotiations with that thought. Pleasure should be pleasure for all, everyone involved willing and excited. One thing that has been imperative for Martha and me over forty years is talking to each other. Discussing our desires and learning what we each prefer. Never should a lover have to do something they dislike or find painful just to please another.”
Ada nodded and squirmed on her chair with anticipation. Soon, she would be the one making choices. Back at the vicarage, her preferences didn’t matter. At the gamekeeper’s cottage, she would first be able to discuss a variety of sexual acts with Gilroy, then agree to those she wished to try. “I shall always keep that in mind.”
“As to what you should ask for…well. Where do I begin?”
“Tell her about our treasure chest,” said Martha, with a comical wiggle of her eyebrows.
“Treasure chest?” said Ada, pencil poised.
Ruth sighed happily. “Bedsport with my darling is always splendid, but there is something special about adding accessories to heighten sensation. Over the years we’ve gathered a nice little collection. Quill feathers and lengths of silk. A blindfold, silver nipple clamps, small leather dildos for pussy or backside…”
“Gracious,” said Ada, her eyes wide with astonishment as she wrote busily.
Thank heavens she had experienced friends for guidance.
Everything in the cottage looked as well as it could.
Or did it?
Aware that Ada would arrive any minute, Jasper’s gaze swooped about the dwelling one last time. Thanks to Mrs. Eden’s potpourri, the rooms held a pleasant herbal scent; but he was proudest of the daybed—after six attempts, the fine linen sheet had settled properly and he’d been able to tuck it in as instructed, and spread a second sheet over the top. His satchel sat on the unlit hearth with the bread, butter, fruit, and pastries still inside, but he’d moved the wine and lemonade into a bucket filled with well water to keep them cool. Most importantly, the rickety wooden table was clean and set with quill, ink, and parchment so they might write and sign a comprehensive contract.
Unless Ada had changed her mind, of course. As he well knew, many a decision had been reversed after the benefit of a good night’s sleep, and an unwed vicar’s daughter choosing to discard her virginity with a stranger was a significant one. He would quite understand if she—
A knock sounded at the door, neither timid nor imperious, and Jasper crossed the room to open it, more relieved than he cared to admit.
“Do come in,” he said gruffly.
Ada smiled shyly as she entered the cottage. With her blond hair and yellow gown she looked like a ray of sunshine, and despite the darkness caused by small windows and dark paneling, the kitchen immediately felt brighter.
For God’s sake, Gilroy. Leave the poetry nonsense to Byron.
“Good afternoon,” she said, glancing about. “It smells lovely in here…gracious, have you been cleaning?”
“Why do you
ask?”
“You have dust on your cheek. That always happens to me, no matter how careful I am.”
Jasper sighed and impatiently wiped his face with his fingers. “An argument against cleaning if ever I heard one. Better?”
Ada set her reticule down on the table. “Now I’m annoyed. You do that, voila, the smudge disappears. If I attempted such an action, I’d have a gray smear from chin to ear. Must be a ducal skill.”
“Taught in the nursery,” he replied. “Perfected at Eton. ’Tis the true measure of an aristocrat, the attention paid to ancient bloodlines, estates, and titles is a cunning ruse.”
She nodded solemnly. “I learn something new each day. Oh, parchment for the contract, excellent. Wait a moment, is that…wine over there? And lemonade? You brought food as well? My goodness, I’m a terrible guest, I didn’t even think to bring a gift, and you’ve gone to so much trouble.”
Jasper cleared his throat. “No trouble. I…wanted to.”
“You did?” she asked, her cheeks turning that delightful shade of pink. “Well. I have been looking forward to this all day. You have no idea how much.”
“I think I do,” he replied softly as his fingers positively tingled to remove her clothing and taste every sweet, silken inch of her.
Ada’s blush deepened. “Are you going to lock the door?”
“I think that prudent. Not to keep you in, but to keep others out. The key will be on the table; of course, you are free to leave whenever you wish.”
“Shall we…shall we discuss terms?”
“Capital idea. Do sit down,” said Jasper as he attended to the door, then gestured to the chair on the other side of the table. “Mind you don’t bump your head though, damned Tudor cottages and their low wooden beams. Not designed for tall people like us. That’s the reason I approved the construction of a new cottage for the gamekeeper; well, that and a crumbling chimney, a roof that leaks in the rain, the haunted privy closet…”
Christ.
His voice trailed off and he sank into his seat. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? He sounded like Tristan blathering away to Tabitha. Besides, no woman wanted to hear about haunted privy closets. Especially not a woman about to discuss contract terms for an affair.
Displeased at his lapse, Jasper straightened the stack of parchment and examined the tip of the quill. “Let’s begin, shall we?”
Silence greeted his words, and he glanced up to see her staring at him. “Ada? Is something wrong?”
She smiled ruefully. “I’m sure you already think me quite mad, so this won’t sound so very strange…but now you have mentioned a ghost, I wonder if I might inspect the privy closet. I am an avid reader of Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels and find such matters fascinating. This is something else my father would strongly disapprove of, so I am rebelling in several ways today.”
In another woman he might have suspected nerves, perhaps a waning desire to proceed with the contract. But it seemed his blathering had provoked her to confide in him, to share an interesting fact few people knew. That trust, fledgling though it was, boded very well for their affair.
Jasper nodded and stood. “Come with me.”
The hallway was too narrow to walk side by side, so he went ahead and cautiously pushed open the privy closet door. When certain there were no rodents or other wildlife, he gestured for Ada to stand in the doorway and peruse the room. Personally, he couldn’t stand it; even with bright sunlight outside the room remained shadowed and icy cold. To the right was a short wooden bench with two roughly hewn circles cut out, and the faint trickle of stream water running underneath sounded downright eerie, like chains clinking in a dungeon.
“Oh my,” breathed Ada. “I swear every hair on my arms is lifting. No wonder there is room for two, no one would dare come in here alone. It’s chilly. Unnaturally so…”
He’d never been a man to offer comfort by touch, yet his hands rose to gently rub her bare arms. What was it about this woman that urged such behavior in him? He could hardly blame the damned privy closet; it had started prior to this moment. “Better?”
Ada surprised him once again when she leaned back against his chest. With her head resting on his shoulder, the light citrusy scent of her hair teasing his nose, and her rounded backside pressed firmly against his groin, his only thought was how perfectly they fit together. Like he’d been fashioned exactly for her convenience.
Jasper stifled a groan as his cock began to harden.
He wanted to fuck this woman. Needed to fuck her. Taste her honey in his mouth, feel the tight clasp of her wet cunt, hear her unbridled cries of pleasure as she came. Did she know it? Was that why her hips circled and rubbed against him, tormenting him with layers of fabric while promising her luscious curves unclothed?
“Ada…” Jasper growled. It was almost impossible to be a gentleman when every instinct urged him to brace her against the wall and take her so hard and deep that she would never move again without thinking of his cock buried inside her. “You dare to tease me?”
She shuddered. “No. I wrote a list.”
“Of what?”
“Of the things I would like you to do to me.”
“Did you indeed?” he murmured in her ear as he caressed her arms again, deliberately allowing his knuckles to brush the side of her breasts but not touch her nipples, which now jutted lewdly against the bodice of her modest yellow gown. He yearned to know their color, before and after he’d pinched and sucked and bit them.
Ada moaned, then clamped a hand over her mouth.
“No,” Jasper said sternly, hating that she’d been taught to suppress and deny desire. “You may not stifle yourself. In fact, a clause in this contract shall state that every moan, every whimper, every orgasmic scream belongs to me. I will hear your need, Ada, when you beg for ease because the ache is unbearable. And I will hear your pleasure when you come. Do you understand?”
She quivered, her breathing ragged. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Good. Let us return to the kitchen table and attend to this contract.”
Chapter Three
Gilroy had barely touched her, and she’d turned into a shameless wanton. Leaning against his broad chest. Rubbing her backside against his cock. Moaning so loudly she could scarcely believe the sound had come from her own mouth. What would happen when he undressed her and took her to bed for the first time? When he made her beg for ease?
Ada sat on the wooden chair, her trembling knees grateful for the respite. After waiting so long, the sheer anticipation coursing through her body at the wicked pleasures she would soon be experiencing was a little unnerving. Thank heavens the duke would write the contract—even holding a quill felt like a challenge right now.
He took a seat opposite her, both too close and too far away, before setting a piece of blank parchment in front of him and flipping the lid from the inkpot. But he wasn’t as cool and calm as he appeared; the way his voice had rasped in her ear and the thick bulge that strained the fabric of his perfectly tailored trousers put paid to that.
“So,” Gilroy said eventually, picking up the quill. “Tell me of your list.”
Gulping air in an attempt to soothe her racing heart, Ada reached for her reticule. First, she perched the spectacles she always wore to read small print on her nose, then she unfolded the list of suggestions that Ruth and Martha had helped her to write. Gracious. Even as bold as she’d been thus far, it was difficult to share things so personal and intimate. What if Gilroy didn’t want to do them?
“I…ah…I’m not sure where to begin.”
“Allow me to prompt you with the preamble. A contract between the Duke of Gilroy and Miss Ada Blair, commenced on August second in the year of our Lord 1814, for the purpose of an affair. The two aforementioned parties shall be lovers for one month; the affair conducted in a discreet and confidential manner, including sexual acts or preferences specified below and any others mutually agreed upon. At the end of said month, the parties shall amiably end this agree
ment with no further requirement or responsibility from either. Are you satisfied with that?”
“Yes,” Ada nodded quickly, and he wrote the words, the sound of quill scratching parchment overloud to her ears.
“Good. As I said, the first clause will be mine. Miss Blair shall not stifle herself in any way during the agreed affair. She will make her needs, desires, and pleasure plain, and is free at all times to decline or halt an act.”
She blinked back tears at the words. Even cloaked in formal language, he offered freedom. It seemed an unlikely location for something so momentous, this small, abandoned cottage with its exposed beams, narrow hallway and eerie privy closet, but finally she had the opportunity to be her true self. To make choices and decisions.
Yet as Ruth and Martha had counseled her, all involved must be willing and eager.
“As are you,” Ada blurted. “Free at all times to decline or halt an act, I mean. Pleasure should be for all, not one.”
Gilroy inclined his head, his blue gaze heating. “An accurate and excellent sentiment. Beg pardon, Miss Blair, but I must pause to inform you how fetching you look in those spectacles. Do you wear them often, or just for reading?”
A blush swept across her cheeks at the unexpected compliment. “Just for reading. The print in bibles and hymn books is so small, but I have no trouble seeing things in the distance. ’Tis the oddest thing. One would think farther away would be worse…oh dear, I’m rambling.”
“Not at all. But we must add a few more clauses to our contract, so I invite you to share that list. How can I give you what you need if I don’t know, in great detail, how you wish to be pleasured?”
At Gilroy’s low and rich tone, like a large spoonful of treacle-coated encouragement to explore her most decadent and private fantasies, she shivered. He made it sound so easy: ask and ye shall receive. But nothing had ever been easy in her life. “I should…simply say?”
Duke I’d Like to F… Page 13