Taffeta & Hotspur

by Claudy Conn

  “Ah,” she uttered breathlessly, “Now Tarrant…”

  “Say my name,” he whispered as he continued to tease her with his pulsating cock.

  “Tarrant…”

  “No! My name. Say it.”

  “Thurston…” she growled at him and then suddenly pulled away from him and got onto her knees. She looked first into his hungry startled eyes and said, so that he could not mistake her meaning, “I want this, Thurston—I want you.” She bent to stroke his shaft with her delicate fingers, dropped a kiss on its head, licked its length, and stroked it lovingly.

  He uttered a primal sound and grabbed her hair as she kissed and stroked his hard throbbing dick. Then he lowered her onto her back once more, spread her legs, and asked her roughly, “Want it? Want it now inside of you?”

  “Want it now!” she answered, and she looked into his dark eyes as he tenderly started his journey.

  She groaned with the ecstasy flooding through her, and as his cock lapped and teased and found her pleasure point, and she moaned his name. He built her desire to a frenzy, and she had a moment when she thought she might have to scream.

  His finger joined his cock at the moisture filled cleft and vibrated her pleasure point until she climaxed and shuddered uncontrollably once again. She grabbed for his hands, wanting to touch him in her aftermath of pleasure, a pleasure she had not believed existed, and holding with the tips of her fingers, lay back once again and watched him as he positioned himself.

  She was ready; oh, she knew she was ready.

  His voice held a note of astonishment as he pushed his cock in deeper and then suddenly stopped. “Taffeta…” he said as he drew up short.

  “What? Why do you stop?” She squirmed under him and knew the answer to her question. She could see it on his face. He was momentarily taken aback, and Taffeta was no fool. He hadn’t expected her to be a virgin. She smiled to herself and was not at all insulted. She had not behaved like one.

  “I… I had thought…”

  “You didn’t know I was a virgin.” she told him playfully.

  “I… Oh, precious girl … this will hurt at first.”

  She wiggled toward him, trying to drive him in deeper, and said on a low note, “Then get it over with quickly, my lord.” It was too late now for regrets, and Taffy did not believe in regrets. This was the man of her choice, and she had made her decision—so be it.

  He smiled. “There is no other like you—there never will be.” He dove through her virginity and whispered, “Ah, sweet girl … a first for both of us…”

  And she realized he had never taken a virgin before. Score one for me, she thought with great pleasure. That had to mean something, because she rather thought she knew the Hotspur, and he would not have taken her had he not cared…

  And then there was no time for thought as sensation took over, and he rocked her body, and she matched his movements with her instincts guiding her.

  She pushed against him as he pumped into her. She ground into him as he rammed her. He took his cock out and played at her opening, and she begged him to put it back in, and he did, and she gave herself to his ministrations with wild abandon.

  She bumped and pumped and climaxed again as he rocked inside of her, and then all at once he stopped himself, picked her up, and turned her over to set her on her hands and knees—grinning all the while as he whispered, “Quick intro lesson, love…” and rammed into her from behind, holding her breasts, flicking her nipples, and all she knew was she never wanted him to stop.

  When he went off, he grabbed her breasts and held her as he pulsated inside of her, and she realized the amount of control he used to keep himself from shouting out.

  Rolling with her tightly in his arms, he whispered, “You are a fit for me…” He nibbled at her ear. “Taffeta, precious little woman, I don’t want to let you go…” He kissed her tenderly at her neck and whispered her name over and over, and then suddenly he was all quick efficiency. “Hurry love … you must get dressed. Too much time has gone by. I don’t want anyone to know how long I have been here alone with you…”

  “Doesn’t the Hotspur want another notch for his belt?” she asked on a half tease.

  He frowned darkly. “What do you think of me?”

  She was already pulling her clothes on, watching him throw on his, “I don’t know … what do you think of me?”

  He grabbed her then and kissed her long and hard, and with his clothes still a bit askew, threw on his greatcoat, buttoned it up tightly and said, “Make a bit of a fuss with your butler after I have left. Ask him if he knows when I left. Taffy, I won’t have you gossiped about, understand?”

  She peeped at him. “Aye, aye, my lord.”

  “Taffy!”

  “Yes, yes … right then, be comfortable about it.”

  She watched him leave as she finished patting her hair in place and went into the hall and ran to the small window overlooking the street, saw him walk down the avenue and hail a cab before she rang for Jarvis.

  Her butler appeared and she asked, “Jarvis, did his lordship say when he would be back?”

  “Oh no, my lady. He said he would show himself in … and I am sorry, I never heard him leave.”

  “Oh, very well then, thank you.” She smiled to herself as she hurried upstairs to wash and change and think of the rakehell Hotspur in the privacy of her bedroom.

  Chapter Ten

  Lord Tarrant returned home only to find a note from Sidmouth that required his immediate attention.

  His services were needed, and there was no time to loose. He hurriedly jotted down a note for Taffeta.

  Dearest little love,

  Business has called me away for a few days, but know this. I shall miss you with all my heart and await the moment I can be with you again.

  Miss me.

  Yours,

  Thurston.

  He put the sealed note into a lackey’s hand and sent it off, comfortable in the belief she would smile when she read it, comfortable he would return and officially make her his own.

  In the meantime, he scarcely had time to throw water on himself, change his clothes, throw some clothing in a portmanteau, and call for his coach. Documents in his possession now had to be delivered as planned.

  As he left the city, his thoughts were not on Wellington, Napoleon, or the fate of his beloved Albion, but of his wild, unprincipled, unruly, completely mischievous, and precious love, Taffeta. He adored her with every beat of his heart and wanted her just as she was.

  He had not been certain she was a virgin, because she was so unreserved, so passionate, so willing… But egad, when he found she was, his heart swelled with absurd pride, and a sudden desire to scoop her up, take her home, and declare to the world she was his woman—his. It had nearly overtaken his good sense.

  Well, that was something he was going to do very shortly, and as soon as he got back. And he didn’t want a long engagement either. He wanted her in his bed, in his house—running his life with her smiles and her laughter and her wildness… Damn, but he loved her.

  He had not told her yet—wait, she had not told him.

  She must love him. He couldn’t bear it if she didn’t love him. She did … she must. She could not have given herself with such abandon had she not—could she?

  Hell and damnation! He could not get back to her soon enough.

  ~*~

  Lord Bruton was met at the door by Jarvis and told Lady Taffeta was above stairs.

  “I’ll wait.” he said.

  “She asked not to be interrupted…” said Jarvis with a frown.

  “And still, I will wait. Perhaps you can slip my card under her door and tell her I am here to take her for a ride through the park if she would like.”

  Jarvis sighed and started for the stairs. Bruton looked at the silver salver on the center round table and saw there Lord Tarrant’s seal. It was a note addressed to Lady Taffeta.

  He waited for Jarvis to get just out of view and hurriedly sna
tched it up and immediately slipped it into his pocket. At his back and just at that moment, the door opened to admit both Nigel and the lady’s brother.

  They saw him and stopped short. He couldn’t know if they had seen him take the note from the salver. He assumed not for they were just the types to challenge him for it.

  The young duke said curtly, “Bruton … my aunt is away, and my sister is not receiving male visitors in her absence.”

  Bruton nodded and said aloofly, “Of course, I merely thought to take Lady Taffeta out for a ride in Hyde Park.”

  “She can’t go. She is promised to us for the day.”

  He inclined his head and left them at his back, much irritated with the manner in which they received him. Who the devil did they think they were?

  This was going to be difficult if her brother did not approve the match, although he rather thought Lady Taffeta had a mind of her own.

  He was hardly able to wait until he was safely within his coach before he opened the sealed note to read Tarrant’s note and smirk to himself. Well, well… So the Hotspur had received his coup de gras. How very amusing it would be to steal the lady out from under his grasp.

  ~*~

  “Come on,” said her brother as he dragged her down the stairs, “We are taking you to lunch. We have something of a problem and don’t want the servants hearing bits and pieces.”

  “What—won’t the waiters hear us?”

  “Not at Wilkes Coffee House; we’ll take a private booth. You’ll like it, and it will get you out. You’ll like that too.”

  Taffy sighed. She had been happily lying on her bed, dreaming of Tarrant and looking forward to the little soiree that evening where she was sure she would see him again. However, her brother and uncle seemed very anxious for her company, and so she went along willingly enough.

  Nigel looked at her as he helped her into the waiting hackney and remarked, “You are looking very well, Taffy.”

  “Thank you, Nigel. I feel … very well,” she answered with an impish smile and settled on her seat, spreading the skirt of her blue velvet cloak about herself.

  “Taffy, have you had … any premonitions lately?” Her brother got right to the point.

  She blushed as she thought of the one that had just been fulfilled and answered hesitantly, “Nooo…”

  “Well, we need to talk, because something ugly has occurred.”

  And then without warning, it happened, and it was so different than her other visions. This time, it was as though a strong giant hand had reached over and scooped her up. She sat in the giant’s palm and watched totally detached from the scene unfolding before her eyes. It was in the dark of night, and she saw herself being dragged from her carriage. Why was she alone in a carriage? Ah, she wasn’t alone; Catherine was with her. Two men were holding guns to the driver, and Catherine was clutching her hand.

  They were clothed in gowns—going somewhere—but unescorted, why? Why were they unescorted? That was all wrong.

  The men were in black low hoods and masks, and the tall one yanked her away from Catherine and pulled her toward his horse. There was something familiar about him, about his scent.

  His voice was low and raspy, and he snapped at her, “Don’t worry, I mean to make it right, and by morning, you will be my wife…”

  And she realized. “Bruton…” she whispered. It all made sense now.

  And just as suddenly as the vision had arrived, it was gone.

  “No, Seth … it can’t… I won’t let it happen…”

  “What, Taffy… What did you see? And do let go of my arm, you are pinching me to death.”

  “Oh, sorry,” she said as she released him and took a long drag of air. “I saw someone dressed like…” She lowered her voice. “…the way we dress when we are the three … pretending to be the Rogues Three, and he said he was going to marry me, against my will, and I tell you, Seth, I won’t let it happen.”

  “Don’t you worry, Sis. We won’t let it happen. Where were you? We will take care not to let you travel that road.”

  “I was alone with Catherine. We were in a carriage … going somewhere together … just on the outskirts of London, and Seth—it was Bruton.”

  Seth released a long low whistle and turned to eye Nigel. “Damned impudent scoundrel.”

  “Well, we have his measure, and we won’t let this happen, Taff … mark me,” said her uncle with some determination.

  “I wonder…” said Seth.

  “You wonder about what?” Taffy asked.

  “Whether Bruton … dressed like he was in your vision has anything to do with what we have just discovered.”

  “What have you just discovered?”

  Their hack had arrived outside the entrance to the coffee house so conversation was suspended until they had left it behind and were seated in a quiet corner of the busy establishment.

  With their heads together, Nigel said with a frown, “I shall get right to the point, three blackguards have been disguising themselves as the Rogues Three and stealing secrets from the crown … delivering them to the frogs…” he said under his breath.

  “I know about the imposters. Tarrant told me,” said Taffy. “It was supposed to be a secret.”

  “And you didn’t tell us?” Seth was shocked to ask.

  “I was going to … just haven’t had a chance … but go on, go on,” she urged. “It makes no sense why they should ape the Rogues Three, however, perhaps it amuses them to also work against the Luddite movement—put the blame at their door, make everyone think they are traitors as well as thieves.” Seth visibly seethed.

  “This is awful. We must do something,” cried Taffeta.

  “Yes, but what?” Seth brightened. “Do you think you could conjure up a vision … see who it is?”

  “It doesn’t work that way, you know that.” Taffy sighed.

  “Work on it, and it might.”

  Taffy glared at him and took a long sip of her coffee and then a bite of her cake and then stared across the room. Her mouth opened and closed as she watched the fashionable man making his way toward them. Bruton.

  He was a devil. How now could she bring him low without putting herself in the line of fire? She couldn’t. She was the line of fire.

  Her vision had put a new take on just how much of a blackguard he was, and she was going to have to devise a new plan.

  Bruton arrived at their table, bent low over her fingers, ignored her brother and uncle in his usual aloof fashion, and looked only at her. Taffy managed a smile and wondered if he was already planning to abduct her, or would it enter his head at some later date. If only her vision had given her a clue as to timing.

  He took up a nearby chair and lifted it to set it in place at their table before he made a flourish of sitting beside Taffeta.

  Nigel objected, “I say … we are having a private…”

  “I shan’t stay long.” Bruton turned to her. “Shall I see you at Lady White’s soiree tonight?”

  “Oh, why yes…” All at once, she wished she wasn’t attending.

  “And will you wear my posy?”

  “Your posy? I have not received your posy,” she answered truthfully.

  “You shall, later this afternoon,” he answered.

  “Oh… I am sorry, I have already accepted to carry another’s posy,” she answered brightly.

  “Really? Who holds that honor?”

  “I do,” said a strong hard voice at Bruton’s back.

  Taffeta looked up with adoration and relief in her eyes, and found gray eyes looking back soothingly into hers. He spoke to her with those dark sensual eyes, and she felt her heart beat faster.

  It was as though his voice whispered in her ear, telling her he would always be there for her, would always protect her, and she felt a swelling of feeling that nearly made her want to cry with happiness.

  Bruton stood up at once, nodded to Tarrant, bowed to Lady Taffeta and said quietly, anger lining his words, “It appears I was behind in
my attention. I shall not be again.” He turned on his heel and left them.

  “Good show, Tarrant!” said Taffy’s brother, standing to slap the Hotspur on his shoulder, “Do sit…”

  Tarrant took up Bruton’s vacated chair and got right to the point, “I was on my way out of town, made a stop at the Home Office, and plans were changed. When I stopped by your aunt’s, Jarvis told me that you were all here.”

  Taffeta felt the caress as his gaze traveled over her, and he asked her softy, “Did you get my note?”

  “Note … no?”

  “Aha!” said Seth, “Devil! I thought I saw him slipping something into his pocket.” He shook his head, “Looks like Bruton got hold of it. Devil—the very idea, stealing people’s private missives!”

  Tarrant didn’t answer this directly, but he said on a hard low note, “I will have to cut out his heart and feed it to him in pieces.”

  “Yes, you must…” And then her pretty features softened once more as she asked Tarrant, “You sent me a note?” Before he could answer, she turned on her brother “Faith … Bruton was at the house? You didn’t tell me Seth, and he stole a note meant for me? This is outrageous.” She turned back to Tarrant, “Yes, do cut out his heart … if you can find it.”

  A moment’s silence fell over them as each considered the meaning of Bruton’s behavior, and Seth cleared his throat and said, “Better tell Tarrant now, sis… He is a right ‘un, and he should know…”

  She wasn’t about to disclose the fact she had visions. She just wasn’t ready, so she glared at her brother and said, “Seth babbles like a woman. It is nothing. I have very strong instincts, and Bruton worries me, that is all.”

  The Hotspur considered her for a moment but obviously didn’t mean to grill her about it as he said, “Then let us get to the point. Rogues Three must never ride again in Nottingham.”

  “Right,” said Nigel.

  “And their cloaks, masks… I can’t help but wonder where the three rascals hid them,” mused Tarrant looking meaningfully at them.