Taffeta & Hotspur

by Claudy Conn

  The Rogues Three had to be flushed out, Miles thought and then something caught his attention. A quick glance out the side window told him there were darkly clad riders emerging from an alley, and he had no doubt what they would do next.

  Miles Frome heard the sound of horses’ shoes on cobblestone and knew they were getting closer. He saw they had passed an arched opening to an alleyway near the wharf overlooking the Thames. He had told his driver to take a dimly lit shortcut, something he normally would not have done. And then, just as he had expected, he felt the coach lurch.

  He heard one of the men on horseback growl, “This time, there will be no sport in it. I want that understood.”

  Sidmouth frowned. Somehow, even disguised, that voice sounded familiar. Evidently he was the leader, and still giving last minute instructions?

  “Aye Flash, we knows whot ye want,” said the another man.

  Sir Miles waited as they came to the door of his coach waving their horse pistols and threatening his driver with ‘Stand and Deliver!’

  ~*~

  Lady Taffeta poured out the hot water from her silver ewer into her washbasin, sighed, and continued to jibber jabber at her friend as she washed her face. She had dismissed her maid, telling her to get some rest, that she and Miss Frome would see to themselves.

  Catherine laughed and cried out, “Enough … stop hounding me, you miserable wretch who must know all.”

  She had already washed and changed into one of Taffy’s pretty white nightdresses and was curled up on the settee with a shawl wrapped around her.

  “Well, you can save yourself a great deal of trouble by just telling me what the devil Bruton did to make you so … uncomfortable in his presence.”

  “First, you tell me what is toward with you and the gentleman you called a ‘beast’,” replied Cathy knowingly.

  “Whatever are you talking about?”

  “Odious thing, you are forever in my business—like tonight when you pushed me into Lord Fenmore so that he must ask me to waltz…” Cathy sighed. “And we both know it is you he wants…”

  “Idiot. Complete and total idiot … me? Nonsense—stupid girl. Anyone with eyes in their head can see he is mad about you.”

  “But, he is always talking to you…”

  “Yes, to ask me how he should go about catching your interest,” Taffy said and burst out laughing. “My dearest friend is a moron.”

  Catherine flung a nearby pillow at her friend’s head, “I won’t have you matchmaking for me…”

  “Stuff and nonsense. I did very well by you in Southwell when we were at school, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but that was different … that was just fun and games and growing up…”

  “So tell me about Bruton,” demanded Taffeta, getting serious and coming to sit near her on the settee.

  “Naught to tell,” replied Miss Frome quietly.

  “Rumor has it he is a complete and utter devil with young ladies…” Taffy really would not give up.

  “Is he?”

  “Yes, although I think he is so much fun.” Taffy tried a new tactic.

  Catherine grabbed her hand. “No … do not let him bamboozle you, Taffy.” She sighed heavily and lowered her head. “Did you never wonder why I was sent home from my first season in such disgrace?”

  “Disgrace? I never heard anything about disgrace… I just thought you went home because of something to do with your aunt,” Taffy said in shocked accents. “In fact, I remember now, your letter said your aunt was tired of playing hostess.”

  “It was a lie, and I thought a feeble one at the time, but it seems Papa did such a good job of scotching the gossip, it was not as bad as I thought it would be.”

  “Gossip? You?” Taffy shook her head. “I don’t believe my quiet, serious minded, good girl Cathy could give anyone fodder for gossip.”

  “You see I… Bruton…” Catherine stumbled on the words.

  “Oh no, never say you fell in love with the devil and thought yourself lovesick and went into a decline?”

  “You are a wretch for putting it that way, but I suppose, yes, to some extent that is what happened … and I let him kiss me, and Taffy… I let him … touch me…”

  “Bed you? Did he bed you?” said Taffy standing up. “I will run him through myself if he bed you and hurt you!”

  She pulled on Taffy’s hand and made her sit again, “No, not quite but nearly. I was so very infatuated and thought, stupidly, he wanted to marry me, but all he really wanted was to add another virgin to his collection.”

  “I shall run him through—he is a criminal,” said Taffy, temper flaring, eyes narrowing.

  “Papa caught us—that day when I nearly lost myself to him. Oh Taff… He walked in on us, and Bruton told him he had no intention of marrying such a girl as I. Can you imagine my mortification? And there was poor dear Papa, and he threw a punch at Bruton, and it was awful … and then Bruton started the gossip. We don’t know for sure it was him who started it, but he was the only one who could have known anything about the incident. I can’t bear to look at him, and when I do, I am reminded what a complete fool I was.”

  “Never you mind. You were not a fool, he was a cad. Do not blame yourself for his unprincipled behavior. There is an old saying that what goes around … comes around, and it has great meaning.” She went very thoughtful for a moment and then with determination in her voice said, “Your dowry would never do for him, but you see … mine would. He is very interested in my dowry.”

  “Taffeta, what are you planning in that mad mind of yours?”

  “Bruton thinks naught of seducing virgins and leaving them to fend for themselves. Well, it is time I made good on that old saying and bring things around neatly and dump them in his lap. I have heard talk about his debts. He must be desperate for immediate funds. I mean to open his eyes to the money that would be at his disposal if I were to accept to marry him.”

  “Taffy… Oh no, Taffy. Just stay away from him.”

  “No, I mean to bring the blackguard low. I mean for him to center his efforts on one, just one … me, and then I mean to blow his chances sky high!” Taffeta hugged her friend fiercely. “He is a bad man … to the heart, bad, and deserves what I have planned for his future.”

  ~*~

  Sir Miles made something of a show as he flung the brown wrapped packet behind him on the coach seat, and stepped out of his conveyance to glare defiantly at the three darkly clad high toby riders.

  His steely colored brows drew together. Their voices were muffled, and although he couldn’t quite recognize any, one seemed to stand out…

  “What did you throw back in the carriage? Never mind … get it and hand it over,” said the tall toby whose voice sounded somehow refined in spite of the low hoarse tone he used.

  “It was naught,” he answered evasively.

  “Get it now!” The tall one who appeared to be in charge rasped at him threateningly as he waved a gun at him.

  He did as he was ordered but attempted to delay and argued, “Take whatever belongings I have … but not this packet.” He held it to his heart hoping he was not being too dramatic.

  The tall toby rider grabbed it from him and put it in his saddle’s satchel.

  “But for your country’s sake … leave me the packet,” pleaded Sir Miles. There was just enough information in the packet to make it look authentic and to trap the villains at a later date.

  “Country, is it?” asked the smallest of the highwaymen. He turned to the man in charge and said, “Whot is this? We don’t need to be taking…”

  “Shut your stupid mouth and get on your horse,” growled the man in charge in a voice that once more made Frome hear something familiar in it.

  A few moments later, he watched them ride off into the darkness and answered his driver’s harangue of questions simply, “No we will not set up a call for the Watch. Let’s head for Lord Sidmouth’s establishment immediately.”

  Chapter Nine

  Two
days later

  Tarrant sat up in bed and held his head against the morning’s light. Damnation, but what had he done to himself last evening? After the Rathborn ball, he had sworn to himself he would steer clear of Lady Taffeta. However, he wasn’t able to stop himself, and off he went last evening to yet another ball where she was bound to be attending. All he knew was he had a physical need to see her, a heart wrenching desire to touch her, and bloody hell … there she was right before his very eyes and what the bloody hell was she doing? Flirting outrageously with Bruton—that’s what he found, and it drove him to the brink of madness.

  The pair had made a great show of liking one another. They laughed and teased, and she batted her thick lashes at Bruton, and he didn’t know who he wanted to rant at more. Hell and brimstone, why hadn’t her brother, her uncle, her aunt… Why hadn’t any of them stopped her from her audacious display?

  Bruton had actually taken her on the floor to waltz three times! Even he would not do such a thing. Everyone had remarked upon it. He had watched them from his corner, and his ominous mood had brought him to the brink of losing control. When he noticed his friend Fenmore leaning into Miss Frome, he stormed to their side, if nothing more than to discover what the little Taffeta’s game was.

  “What is she doing, Catherine?” Fenmore frowned as he watched Lady Taffeta making eyes at Bruton.

  “Do not worry about my Taffy. She knows full well what she is doing. There is only one person who will get hurt in her little show, and it won’t be her.”

  “Really?” Tarrant remarked as he overheard this. “And why is that?”

  Catherine Frome blushed and quietly answered, “Because she knows what she is doing. Always does.”

  “Not this time…” Fenmore retorted. “She will have all the gossip mongers chattering about her if she doesn’t bring it down a notch.

  “No, I don’t think so. She is sister to the Duke of Grantham and wealthy enough to gain her a great deal of leeway.” Tarrant answered. “But what is her game?”

  “Oh… I am hungry, James…?” Catherine said obviously trying to change the subject.

  He jumped to offer his arm. “Shall I take you to the dining room, then?”

  She smiled sweetly at him. “I would be so very grateful.”

  James Fenmore turned to Tarrant. “Do you join us?”

  Tarrant laughed. “No, I wouldn’t dream of it.” It was obvious his friend had received his coup de gras, and that the lady returned his ‘feelings’. He was happy for him but miserable for himself. He couldn’t come to grips with what he was feeling for Lady Taffeta—didn’t want to face it, and damn well didn’t like seeing her with Bruton for many reasons, but one reason headed the list. Down right possessive jealousy! Him—jealous? He had thought he would never feel that way about a woman ever again.

  The feel of Taffeta’s sweet lips pressed against his as he parted them, jarred his mind, and the memory was vivid. He could almost taste her once more as his tongue had lapped against hers. Certes, what a perfect, delicious, promise of passion she was! What a contradiction of everything he believed was so. What a desirable, quixotic beauty. What wonderful laughing eyes.

  She had his head spinning, seemingly attracted to him one moment and then flirting with Bruton the next. Just what was she doing? He had left the soiree early and had gone to a favorite tavern where he had met some of his cronies and drank more than he usually did. Now he had an aching head, and if he admitted it to himself, a heart that did not feel much better.

  The next thing he knew, he was on the street hailing a hackney and directing it to Lady Marble’s townhouse where he was sure to find Taffy at home at such an early hour.

  He was met by Jarvis at the door, but was told Lady Marble had gone off for the entire day with friends. He frowned and then asked, “Perhaps Lady Taffeta is at home?” He shouldn’t be calling on her when she was unchaperoned, but damn, the thought of getting her alone excited him!

  As Jarvis began to lead him forward, he called him off, “I know the way and shall show myself in…” He ignored the mild objection Jarvis tried to stop him with and hurried to the morning room.

  He opened the door and stood transfixed a moment as he contemplated Lady Taffeta’s profile in the sunlight. Ravishing! From the top of the blue confection of ribbons threaded through her yellow hair to the toe of her blue slipper, just peeping out under her gown.

  She turned halfway, and he found her gray eyes filled with laughter as she held Valiant out to him and declared, “Here Valiant, your hero, here to see what progress you have made.” So saying she shoved the black and white puppy into his hands.

  He was indeed pleased to see the puppy was thriving and petted him a moment before putting him down and watching him make his way back to Taffy. She bent, picked him up, and took him to a cushion where she placed him lovingly, and then turned to Tarrant and said brightly, “Well and good morning to you, my lord.”

  He went forward, took her hands, and said softly, “Sunbeam … you slay me with your beauty, and with the cold shoulder you gave me last night. You had eyes only for Bruton…”

  She laughed. “Did you think so? Then I have played my part well.”

  He frowned. “What game are you at now?”

  “Ah, you must wait and see.”

  “No, I must not. I know you think me a scoundrel, but he truly is.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt of that … and you? I am not sure what you are yet. I wish you were perhaps more of a scoundrel…” She glided up to him, and it was more than he could take. He had her in his arms, and as he kissed her, they seemed to move in unison, in a flurry of emotion that leapt from him to her and back to him again. He couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop.

  ~*~

  He is the one. Her heart had been telling her this for some time. She had known beyond any doubt for some days. When she turned a few moments ago and saw him standing there, she knew she couldn’t let him leave without making a push to show him how she felt. He had to feel it too. She sensed it, wanted—hoped it was so.

  He took her into his arms, and she knew, absolutely, they had to bring this to its completion. This morning would do as her aunt was gone for the day, and her brother and uncle were in Parliament. She was free to explore what she was feeling, and what she was feeling was savage desire.

  His ardent kisses took her to another world. His touch made her forget all else. His voice in her ear thrilled her senses. She realized she wanted him with a stormy desire that took hold of her and made her travel through must not into must!

  Letting her go, he threw off his coat. He went to the door and after locking it, returned to her. Taking her hand to his lips, he said, “You are driving me mad, Taffy.” Then he showed her just what that meant. He was feral, his eyes dark with hunger as he tore at her clothes, whispering words of need and how he reveled at the silky softness of her skin, and oh, she wanted him.

  She couldn’t speak, she only reacted, and she wasn’t sure just how her clothes ended up in a pile around her naked body.

  What was she doing? She was in her aunt’s house and oh, but it felt so right. She was breaking the rules; she was always breaking all the rules … and this broken rule, this one might end in breaking her heart.

  But, she didn’t want to stop. She wanted the feeling to go on … and … his mouth was on hers again, as he lowered her to his greatcoat spread out on the Oriental rug along with her discarded gown. How had he thought to do that? Had he done this before? Of course he had done this before … she was the only fool in the room…

  His hands manipulated her breasts, and his head bent, and the next thing she knew, his tongue licked at her nipples as he pulled her hands over her head and took control. She squirmed with the intensity of the sensations he aroused in her, and she gasped with pleasure as his fingers found and manipulated the crease between her legs.

  He took one nipple between his forefinger and thumb, bent to lick it, and then teased it with friction. He licked his
palm and rubbed it over her pink pertness till she arched her back with need. She knew she wanted something more, and she threw her head back, and said, “Tarrant…”

  “Yes, love … ah, you are wet, so wet and ready…” he whispered as his fingers traveled into her canal and pleasured her to the point of distraction.

  “Deeper … push your finger deeper…”

  “Yes, love…” He did, even as a feral sound came from his throat, and he explored her with skill and deftness.

  She opened her eyes and watched as he released his rock hard cock and watched it dance. It occurred to her he was stallion sized, and she gasped with a sudden fear, “Oh … no…”

  He chuckled, but his voice was hoarse with hunger, “Oh yes, sweetness, you are so ready for this…”

  She stared and realized she wanted to touch. She reached for his shaft, ran her hand along its length, closed her fingers around it, and whispered, “I… Oh my…”

  “We’ll make it fit, steady now … not yet…” He bent and pushed her back down as he lifted her butt and got into position to lap the sweet moisture from her canal.

  She began to pump and grind against his tongue, moving instinctively as her body seemed to know what to do, and when he nibbled at the nub just inside, she arched up toward him and released a short wild sound just before she climaxed. She shuddered with pleasure, was still trembling with the aftermath as he rubbed his cock against her clit and then positioned it at the wet opening.

  “There, woman … want that … want more…?” His voice was hard and rough with the intensity of his desire.

  “Yes, yes…” she answered. She would make this big beautiful man hers … and take everything he had to give, and return the prize in full. And she knew something else. She loved him with all her heart, and she hoped if he didn’t love her yet, he would very soon.