by Flora Dain
* * * *
At luncheon I found it hard to chatter, harder to keep still. This newer, larger invader rammed up inside me caused me endless irritation, as did Jacquard’s dark, amused glances. I made a poor stab at playing hostess.
Hard to stay cheerful for guests with my ass so lewdly filled, instead I wanted to scream and shout, throw things at him.
Worse, I could see he enjoyed it.
At last came the evening and Madame’s final preparation. This time I submitted to her skillful fingers with new patience. Now that I knew something of her history, I understood much—and forgave much.
I entered Jacquard’s apartments eager, excited—and randy as a cat.
“Welcome to the Amber Room, my sweet.” He stepped forward to greet me robed in golden embroidered satin. The Amber Room was richly draped in honey-colored silks. At first I thought it held only the splendid, tawny-draped bed. But as Jacquard stepped aside, I saw it held something else.
On a lone pedestal stood an ornament, an even larger amber carving. This was a true sculpture, even more rare, and large enough to be very valuable, I felt sure. It formed a large half-moon shape with rounded ends.
Once more, it felt warm to the touch.
Once more, Jacquard’s gaze betrayed pleasure as I caressed it.
He greeted me with a long, all-consuming kiss, holding me so close I arched back when he buried his head in my breasts. As he allowed his tongue to take control, he pushed away my loose, flowing robe and ran his hands over my quivering flanks and deep into my soft, swollen folds.
When he pulled away, I felt weak with excitement, already aching from my day-long torment
“Please,” I whispered, tears close. “I can bear this no longer, sir. What comes next?”
“You recall the rule of pleasure? First you fast, as you have all day.” He slipped a blindfold over my face and swiftly roped me to the bedposts. “Then you feast.”
I felt his head between my thighs. Before I could cry out, he thrust his hot, hungry tongue deep into my greedy slit in a long, luscious sweep. He licked and teased, slicked and swirled, all the while avoiding my hot little bud until I thought I should scream.
“Finish me, sir. I beg you,” I whimpered.
“Patience. We’ve hardly started.”
What followed was terrifying—and exquisite—torture. He tormented me with every soft cruelty he could devise. Bound and sightless as I was, I felt feathers, silk, ice, even hot wax ripple across my skin. Soon I jerked and twitched at every touch—soft, sharp, cold or hot.
At last, when I was close to sobbing, he unfastened me and sat me gently on the bed. Now he sat opposite and lifted off the blindfold. As I blinked into the soft golden candlelight, he made me lean back and he removed the plug.
But now I saw he’d taken the ornament from the pedestal and placed it on the bed beside us. Holding me firmly, he folded his legs around me and edged one end of it slowly up into my gaping rear end. While I was still rigid with shock, he fastened his mouth on mine then gave a grunt.
A tremor in my backside warned me he was doing the same.
“What’s happening, sir? You take it up there too?” I stared at him, startled.
“Why should I miss out?” His mouth gave a cynical twitch. “We’ll double our fun.” His jaw clenched as he shifted closer to slide the other end all the way up. All at once he gave a deep, juddering sigh.
“Fun? You double the wickedness.” I giggled, heady with pleasure.
But the best was still to come. As he inched closer to settle the thing fully into place in his own ass, I felt his cock surge gloriously up inside me.
With a gasp I clung to him, my heart beating wildly. I hardly dared believe my own senses.
“You like?” His low growl thrilled through me.
The warm amber curve filled me. He did as well, with his hot, burning shaft, doubling my fun for sure. And in the sultry gleam of his eyes and the powerful grip of his arms, our wickedness doubled, trebled and more as we began to flex and shift in a long, slow dance of seated, exquisite pleasure.
With barely any movement we clung together, flexing gently, conjoined as one both below and—when his mouth found mine in long, languorous kisses—above.
I came again and again. It seemed to last for hours.
The Amber Room gave me all he’d promised—and more.
Learning about Madame had solved one mystery. But I’d stumbled on an entirely new one about her master.
Jacquard had once been in love.
Was he still? And if so, where was she now?
Chapter Twelve
Soon the ball was upon us. For all my tough start in life, I gave myself up to silly, girlish excitement.
My real girlhood had been brief and harsh. I’d lost it forever—and willingly—in Jacquard’s passionate embrace. But this was officially the last week of it—and unofficially the closest I’d ever get.
I tripped about the house humming gaily, sniffing flowers, tasting the trifles and generally getting in everyone’s way.
But if I seemed happy, Jacquard grew dour. He locked himself away to write letters, rode round the estate or sat long hours with his steward.
At last, on the morning of the ball, I risked a timid knock on his door. He looked up as I walked in, his face gaunt.
Had he not slept at all? I masked my dismay with a playful grin. “You’re very busy, sir. I’ve missed you. Does a ball make so much work?”
Chillingly, he continued writing. “Madame Junot has it all in hand. I must make sure the estate will run smoothly after I leave.”
And we’ll be saying goodbye… I drew close and kept my tone light. “What about me, sir? Am I to stay here?” My lip trembled a little as I drew close to his chair.
When he stole his arm absently round my waist, I ran my fingers lightly over his springy hair.
He was such a big part of my life. Whatever beau I’d find by the end of the evening, he’d surely never take Jacquard’s place.
“You’ll stay here as long as you wish, Saffina. But why so down? Surely with all your wiles, you’ll secure a dazzling match before the evening’s out. Now leave me. I’ve still much to do.”
He sounded gruff. Was I dreaming? Could he truly dismiss me from his life so easily?
I turned away, biting my lip. Maybe, after all, I’d misjudged him.
* * * *
I saw no more of him till evening. Madame was supervising the final preparations for the guests who were planning to stay. Jacquard disappeared into the billiard room with some early arrivals.
At last the staff had lit the chandeliers, carriages were arriving and the musicians had begun. When I was nearly ready, a flustered maid arrived with a message.
She dropped me an awkward curtsey. “If you please, ma’am, his lordship would like to see you in the library.”
I took one last look at the fabulous princess gazing back at me from my looking glass, preening in white satin and long gloves, then tripped down to the library.
Jacquard was leaning against the desk, arms folded, elegant as ever. As I walked in, his sweeping look sent flames through me, but in him I sensed a chill.
To hide my dismay, I dropped him a deep, formal curtsey. I promptly spoiled the effect with a happy pirouette to show off my gown. “Am I fine enough for a ball, do you think?”
“Fine indeed. You look ravishing. You’ll get many offers. I feel sure.” His smile twisted a little, then faded.
He snapped open a case sitting on the desk beside him. “Here, Saffina. You come in to part of your inheritance tonight. I went to town partly to fetch your grandmother’s diamonds. Now they’re yours.”
He stood behind me to fasten the heavy gems at my neck. I shivered as I felt this hot breath on my shoulder. I stood very still as he touched his lips to the side of my neck in a feather light kiss, his hands moving gently on my bare skin.
“And your suitor better be a better man than I am, or I’ll have his ass at cards.
”
I swiveled in his arms, surprised at the intensity in his look as my gaze again met his. Eagerly I sought his mouth, yielding my lips to his with cheerful abandon.
When he released me, I kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Then their money’s safe, sir. With a man of your reputation as host, they’re all better men than you, Jacquard, even me.”
* * * *
The dancing was delightful. Endale Hall blazed with light. The food and wines were sumptuous. Nobles, gentry and local dignitaries crowded into the reception rooms and the great ballroom, eager to see if the Earl of Endale, their notorious host, was as wicked as his reputation.
It’s possible some of them even came to see me.
I had a wonderful time. I flirted, teased my partners, lost my dance cards, tore up others and generally behaved disgracefully.
My guardian looked on fondly for a while, spurning all my pleas to dance. “We dance best alone. Tonight I’ll let you loose on the locals. And I’m willing to bet they’ll find you more than they bargained for.”
Just then a footman murmured at his ear that Sir Nigel Somers was out in the gardens and asking to see me.
“No. Out of the question. He’s not to be admitted.” Jacquard’s instant rage made the footman flinch.
“Wait. I’ll see him.” I glanced at Jacquard with a roguish smile. “Tonight I make my own decisions.” Flushed with success, I ignored his scowl. I gave him a careless wave, threaded a path through the ballroom and went out onto the balcony.
Nigel was standing out on the lawn, looking up with a pained expression. “Dash it, Saffina, I chase down to Bath to make Lady Susan an offer and return to find us all out on the street. What are you about, ma’am? We only meant to help you.”
With an effort, I reined in my temper. I’d been cured of Nigel the moment he set off for Bath and left me to the tender mercies of his aunts. But I still had a score to settle. I took a deep breath. “I’m sure you did, sir,” I said graciously. “I wish you and Lady Susan all happiness.”
Even as I said it, I saw in a flash the life that awaited her—all aunts, sermons and occasional childbirth. Indeed, it was the kind of life awaiting most of us, even heiresses. Respectability meant little fun and no wickedness.
Ever.
It was a revelation. Was this what Jacquard had been trying so hard to tell me?
Nigel made a stiff little bow. “Phew. So we can move back in? And we’re friends once more?”
“No,” I said sweetly, “and no. And if I ever see you or your aunts on my lands again, I’ll have you horsewhipped.” I turned away and signaled to the footmen to have him removed.
Now I must find Jacquard. I had to tell him I was finally cured…of Nigel. Perhaps it would lighten his mood. Also, I wanted him to dance. I wanted to feel his hands on me, his eyes burning into mine.
But most of all, I wanted to tell him I loved him. Would it please him? Disgust him? I cared not. He had to know. And if he was leaving, this could be my last chance.
But where was he?
I looked everywhere. At last I rejoined the dancing, expecting any minute to see him. He’d be canoodling with some beauty, perhaps. Or closeted with the card sharps of St. James’ in some back room, chancing his all at hazard or bezique.
After more partners than I could count and far more champagne than was good for me, I finally went in search of him, tipsy now.
I’d make him dance if it killed me. Surely he’d give me one dance at my very own ball?
But he was nowhere to be found. He’d not been seen for hours. The card players had missed him since before midnight. None of the guests of his rank knew where he was.
At last I sent for his valet. Word came back that chilled my heart.
“Lord Endale has gone, milady. He left just before midnight.”
“Gone? Where?”
The footman looked uneasy when I seized his arm but he stuck to his story. Finally I summoned the butler. He informed me in low tones that his lordship had left for the continent. He was not expected to return.
He’d taken his valet and his secretary with him. Madame Junot had already left.
Dumbfounded, I stood in the middle of the dance floor. I ignored the merrymakers and their eager invitations to join them.
I hardly heard them.
My mind raced.
Jacquard must be headed south. He’d have baggage, other servants. He’d travel slowly. If he planned to sail, he’d have to catch the tide, so he’d likely stop at an inn.
With luck and a decent mount, I should catch him up.
I raced out to the stables, once more after Isaac, but this time not for his cock. I wanted something even more outrageous.
And this time I knew he’d be truly shocked.
He was. But I got what I wanted—breeches, jacket and a cap belonging to the smallest stable lad and the fastest horse in the mews. I hid my jewels and finery as best I could under the rough serge and set off at a gallop.
Isaac’s anxious shouts rang in my ears. “No more than twenty mile at a time, m’lady. Change your mount at an inn and leave his lordship’s name. But in boy’s garb? Cover your hair at least, for gawd’s sake. If this gets out, I’m done for…”
I closed my ears. Soon his anxious calls were lost in the steady drum of my horse’s hooves, their pounding beats echoing over the empty, moonlit fields.
* * * *
My search was mercifully short. Jacquard had not thought I’d follow.
His coach was pulled up in the yard of the third inn I reached. A creaking wooden sign proclaimed it to be the Lamb and Flag.
Pulling my cap well down, I pushed into the taproom and peered round. At this hour the bar was quiet. It was late for drinking, even on the road to the coast. No lords in here, just a few weary farmhands and caped travelers, supping their last pints before turning in for the night.
“Message for Lord Endale,” I snapped, as a bulky barmaid looked up from wiping a table.
She looked me up and down. ‘’’Is lordship and all ‘is retinoo is quartered on the first floor. I doubt ’e’ll want visitors at this hour. Too ‘igh an’ mighty, if you arst me. But go on up, lad. Top o’ the stairs.”
I knocked at his door. When it opened I pushed past the startled valet who tried to bar my way.
Jacquard was in shirtsleeves, slumped at a bottle-strewn table. He took one look at my face and dismissed his fussing valet and two footmen.
When we were quite alone, I pulled off my cap and glared at him. “Where are you going? Why did you leave me?”
A flicker of pain crossed his face. “Why do you think? My work here is done. I return to the continent. Perhaps after all, I’m a bad influence. That’s what everyone thinks.” He let out a weary sigh. “Let me be, Saffina. It’s for the best.”
“But I wanted to tell you—”
“About Somers? No need. I saw you on the balcony. A touching scene.” With a violent sweep of his arm, he flung his glass across the room. It shattered, spraying port like a bloodstain all down the wall. “Why do you torture me like this, damn it? He proposed and you accepted. Now leave me in peace.”
I stared. Could it be…he was jealous?
Joy spiraled through me. “You torture yourself for no reason, my lord. He’s marrying Lady Susan. I gave him a piece of my mind and had him thrown out.”
Jacquard raised his eyes to mine, his expression part wonder, part heat. At last he glanced down at my breeches with a sardonic gleam. “Boy’s clothing? And riding astride? Willful as ever, ma’am?”
I held his gaze, my heart thumping so loud I feared he’d hear it. “I ride how I please. Any girl’s willful when she wants something badly enough.”
He lowered his voice. “And what could you possibly want, milady, with the world at your feet?”
I clambered onto his lap and laid my forehead against his. “You know what I want.” I parted his shirt where the column of his bronzed neck emerged from the snowy linen to reveal the tips o
f the dark, curling hairs further down his chest. Leaning forward, I kissed the dip at the base of his throat and then moved downward, touching my lips first to one small, sharp nipple, then to the other. “I want you.”
“Me?” His lip curled. “You should aim higher than a disgraced earl. And what if I was unavailable?”
I bared my teeth and nipped his earlobe. “Then tell me her name and I’ll kill her.”
He laughed softly. “Relax, my sweet. I’ve no countess in my sights at present. Unless…”
I touched my lips to his in a whisper-soft kiss. “Unless me, my lord?”
He wound his arms round my waist, pulling me close. “Brazen as ever? While you’re under my protection, I dictate the terms, not you. I must be sure you’re happy with your choice. I propose to travel for a while. Come with me. If you find no better beau in Europe or over the next London season, then we’ll wed. Agreed?”
I agreed.
When he’d finally stopped kissing me, he smiled. “And how shall we celebrate our reunion, milady? You decide.”
I put my head on one side and considered. “I shall take off all your clothes and lick you all over,” I said solemnly.
His eyes gleamed. “And after that?”
“After that…you can take off all mine and lick me all over.”
His voice dropped to a purr. “And after that?”
I leaned my forehead to his and smiled into his eyes. “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
We did.
And over the next two days the innkeeper had a hard time of it ferrying food, wines and fresh linen to our rooms while footmen scurried to and from the Hall to fetch my gowns, maids and luggage.
I doubt the Lamb and Flag had seen a reunion like it—the first step on a journey of a lifetime.
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
Love Beat
Flora Dain
Excerpt
Chapter One
“You want this?” His voice purrs close to my ear, part thrill and part threat.