Sought By The Lion_Lionhaeme

by Tara Gill

  A burst of feminine laughter broke through her concentration and blinking, she forced herself to alertness and rose, leaning on the back of the small wooden chair. The musky smell became stronger, but try as she would, she could not discover anyone even in the darkest corners of the library.

  “Are you all right, Miss? You look a bit flushed.” The shop assistant, an earnest-looking young girl in a drab brown gown, stopped by her side.

  “I…it is hot in here. I need some air. Please excuse me.” Mia managed to stagger outside and stood breathing fast, a hand to her throat. The fresh air immediately had an effect and her head cleared.

  Fanny joined her from where she’d been purchasing sketching supplies. “I’ve bought enough drawing paper for the trip—are you well, Mia?! What has happened?” she asked in alarm.

  Mia unobtrusively pulled on the ivory bodice of her dress trying to loosen her corset. “It is nothing of concern. A heat-spell came upon me, and now that I have some fresh air, I am much better. Shall we set for home?”

  Fanny glanced at Mia’s empty arms. “What about your books?”

  “Never mind about them. I want to lay down for a bit.” Mia adjusted her bonnet, avoiding alarming Fanny with the truth, and not wanting to think of the musky fragrance that had such an odd effect on her.

  “Of course!” Fanny agreed immediately. She’d been worried about Mia’s erratic moods ever since the trip to the Lionhaeme estate had been announced and had been urging her to rest more.

  They strolled through the streets of London, exchanging nods and greetings with acquaintances. When they reached home, Mama was in the sitting room, writing on the desk. The servants were abustle: rearranging furniture, going out on errands, carrying in messages. The household had been busy this week, making ready the arrangements for the trip to Lionhaeme and then to South America.

  Seeing Mia, Mama placed her pen down and waved her to come closer. “Ah child, it is good you are home. We have heard from Lord Barghurr and the familia with whom we are to stay in South America. It appears that the best time for carnivorous flower specimen collection will be over in a few months. Your Papa is raring to be on his way so that he can be on hand to monitor the process and study the specimens in their natural environs. Furthermore, the funds and other aid promised by Lord Barghurr, including shipping and porters have been made available sooner than anticipated. Mr. Gray has agreed that we will leave for Peru within a week. Therefore, Fanny will act as chaperone for your visit up north, and you will travel together in his Lordship’s carriage which will be on hand to pick you up in a week.”

  “You are leaving Mia to meet Lord Barghurr’s family alone?” asked Fanny shocked.

  Mama’s arched brows met, a sign of her displeasure at being questioned by a servant. “There is nothing to be surprised about in that. Mr. Gray has already spent far too much time away from the field to help ensure that Mia has a good Season. Now that he has completed his familial duties, he must continue with his studies if he is to stay ahead of his peers and keep faith with his patrons. Mia, I shall write to you and expect to hear that you are engaged to Lord Barghurr and that the betrothal notice had been sent to the papers within the month.”

  Mia’s emotions were too turbulent for her to argue with her parents; besides, she didn’t know what to fight for. For them to care about her happiness? That seemed an exercise in futility. Aware what her mother wanted to hear, she said wearily, “It will be done as you wish, Mama. I am tired, please excuse me,” and swept upstairs.

  Throwing her bonnet down in her cool room, Mia noticed a missive on her small desk. It held no identifying marks except her name ‘Miss. Mia Gray’ in a bold script. She went out to the passage and spotted a footman herding a couple of maids who had packed up the carpets and were carrying them down to be beaten.

  “Joe, do you know when this arrived?” She held the letter out.

  Glancing at it, the footman shook his head “I do not know. Should I ask Mister Wilkins?”

  On a suspicion, Mia lifted it to her nose. It held the spicy scent that had plagued her all week. “No,” she said abruptly. “Don’t mention it to Wilkins or my mother.”

  Joe’s face became expressionless, and he nodded, “As you wish, Miss. Mia.”

  Mia entered her room, bolted the door and examined the missive. The paper was unusually fine. Inside the letter was a strip of leather long enough to be worn at the neck with a rough, black, unremarkable stone pendant. The note with it said in large bold letters: Wear it and think of me. There was no name below the message. But it was not difficult for Mia to conclude that the sender was Barghurr.

  She fingered the crude necklace, frowning. How odd. As far as she knew Barghurr was in London, but he’d made no attempt to visit her. Her parents had received messages from him, but she’d had no word.

  But his unique perfume followed her everywhere. If she didn’t know better, she would think that it was he who followed her.

  Mia shook her head.

  Obviously, she was over imagining things. Barghurr would approach her if he met her in a public space, not stalk her sight unseen. Besides no one had ever considered her important enough to pay much attention to, beyond appreciating her looks, so to assume that such an important nobleman as he might leave all his duties to follow her about town was preposterous.

  That night, after her daily bath, Mia settled down to sleep.

  She had decided that she would talk to Lord Barghurr. After that she would determine what to do about the marriage. Running away was still an option but something—most probably her unceasing attraction to the man—argued that he deserved a chance.

  After tossing and turning for an hour, she gave up and walked to her dressing table. With a tentative finger, she touched the stone pendant that lay there. There was no magic or indeed any special quality that was evident in the roughly worked ornament, to her slight disappointment. She was also curious: other men would send diamonds or rubies to the women they were wooing. What was so special about this unpolished pebble that Barghurr would ask her to wear it? Not only wear it, but think of him while doing so?

  Making up her mind quickly, Mia slipped it on around her neck. After all, thinking of Barghurr was not hard. In fact, it took Mia a great deal of effort not to think of him. So, she would wear his odd necklace while letting loose any restraint on her imagination. For someone who had not exchanged more than a few sentences with her, he had certainly made an impact.

  Settling back in the bed, her thoughts wandered. Dreamily she recalled Barghurr: his visceral presence, the breadth of his shoulders, how his deep voice had seemed to resonate through her body. How right his touch felt. His heady smell and how it had permeated her senses, making her yearn for something elusive. She sighed and turned on her side. Maybe she was odd for obsessing so much about a man who seemed half-lion.

  No one else had observed that odd chimera overlaying his face.

  Mia was finding that not many people in her social circles had met Barghurr in person, but the few that had would have surely mentioned if there was anything odd about his appearance? The pinpricks on her arm, the name of his estate—Lionhaeme—and the way Barghurr appeared to her all hinted at a leonine side to his nature. Thinking of the expression on his face when he had left her—carnal, ravenous, wild—she shivered and promptly fell asleep.

  When Mia woke again, she was in a vast canopied bed at the centre of a chamber furnished with gleaming ebony tiles and walls and black silk hangings. The edges of the chamber blurred into darkness as did the roof. She wore a scandalous nightgown —white, lacy and transparent.

  Confused, she sat up. Out of the shadows, a large figure loomed and slowly emerged into visibility.

  “Who—Oh!”

  Barghurr strode toward her, wearing dark silk pyjama pants. Small golden hairs peppered his bare chest and his scorching golden eyes scalded her. His presence seemed to crackle with vital energy and increased her awareness of her own body: the passage of cool ai
r through the room against her skin, the hush stillness against her ears, the beat of the pulse in her neck.

  As heady musk encased her, her breathing quickened. She felt most unlike herself—bold and adventurous instead of cautious and unassuming. Feeling sensuous and free, Mia arched and ran her hands through her free red-gold tresses. “I sense you everywhere, and now you’re here in my dreams. Am I going mad?” she asked, heavy eyes on him. She sounded throaty and playful—quite unlike herself.

  A flame lit up in his eyes as they rested on her breasts pushing against the see-through fabric. Hunger carved his face into cruel lines. The lion face overlaying his visage looked desperate to reach her.

  “If you are, then you’re not the only one.” His voice was a rumble as he stilled a couple of feet away from her. “You came. I wasn’t sure if you would.”

  For a few moments, they stared at each other. Mia drank his presence down, his aura seemed so much more palpable here in this dream world. It pulled at her, and suddenly the physical distance between them seemed like an adversary to be destroyed.

  She held her arms out to him shamelessly. “Barghurr, you seem so different from how I remembered you…more real somehow…won’t you hold me?” The dream seemed to have got rid of all her inhibitions, and she was so hungry to be touched. It had been years since anyone had touched her.

  His hands clenched, but he stayed where he was. “Mia mine, this is no dream. The necklace you wear allows you to travel to my Plane in your sleep. You have full use of your senses. Do you still wish me to hold you?” His voice was guttural.

  She blinked and tried to think with a clear head. “I wondered about the necklace,” she said softly and inhaled. “Yes… I think I’d still like you to hold me…I’ve dreamed of sleeping in your arms every day since you visited,” she admitted in a barely audible voice, looking down so that her tresses hid her blushing face.

  With a bound he was on the bed, and the surface seemed to sink down an inch. “Take off the gown for me.”

  She hesitated a moment, her natural shyness fighting against the heat that built in her belly, which screamed for touch, closeness and something nebulous. Was this right? Many affianced Society couples including the nobility explored intimacy prior to marriage, she knew. There was no question she was attracted to him. But was she safe with him?

  Barghurr seemed to sense her qualms and said reassuringly, “You can trust me. We are to be wedded. I will only bring you pleasure and will stop the moment you feel any distress.”

  She examined his eyes–both pairs. His deep-set eyes burned over every exposed inch of her possessively. The lion’s eyes however, were adoring and studied her every expression—they seemed to ask her to believe in him. Somehow that settled her mind. “Very well. Since we are to be affianced.” With a prayer for bravery, Mia pulled off her gown and tossed it aside, and stood there trying not to wring her hands or cover herself.

  Barghurr’s eyes flared but stayed on hers. “So courageous, Mia mine.” His voice was hoarse. “Lie down, love.”

  Mia lay down resting her head on the pillow and examining him, eyes at half-mast. Everywhere her senses were seduced by the lion–his addictive fragrance, his ensnaring gaze, his rough but sincere words. Something cool touched her wrists and pulled them up and apart. “What in tarnation—"

  She tried to look up, but he caught her chin. “Will you trust me, Mia? What I may do to you in this bed may shock you, but I will never hurt you.”

  His voice vibrated over her skin, and she shuddered.

  What manner of things was he speaking of? Mia found herself both alarmed and curious, especially with the ties now holding her limbs apart. A blush invaded her body even as Barghurr kept his eyes on hers and not on her exposed body.

  “Are you talking about the kind of intimacy gentlemen share with their mistresses?” She asked hesitantly. Victorian men married for children, the betterment of their lineage and their family coffers–everyone knew that. They saved their passion for their mistresses.

  His eyes gleamed with amusement. “In my Plane, marriage doesn’t exist. People mate for life, and all their passion is saved for their mate. The bond is magically enhanced and so entwined that if a person dies, then their mate also succumbs. Living without a mate would be torture, so they actually welcome it.”

  Mia’s eyes widened. “Then why the mention of betrothal? Why did you approach me sight unseen?”

  Barghurr shrugged powerful shoulders. “My proposal was more to allay your parent’s concerns and your Society’s conventions.” A warm hand curled around her leg and stroked her calf. Mia stifled a tremor, but her body heated up. The ache in her belly started again, more intense this time, and she grew damp.

  He continued speaking, “Our Seer, Mistress Philomena saw you in a shop in London that you and your companion visited. Immediately she knew we were fated to be together. In Lionhaeme the kings always mate with women of other Planes, not the lionesses of Lionhaeme and so I have been alone for a long time. Once I learned you might be my mate, I approached your father. I was worried that someone from such a culturally mismatched Plane would not be the best fit for Lionhaeme, but I think you will be a wonderful fit. Intelligent, curious, open-minded, you’re exactly the right Queen for Lionhaeme.” He looked very satisfied.

  Lionesses? Queen? Mating not marriage? Seers? Mia’s head spun, and she recalled the small woman with the cheery glint in her eye who had predicted her future. Maybe her prophesy had meant that Barghurr would be the man to sweep her away?

  “Thank you. I hope I will be a good wife and q…queen to your people, if we do marry, erm, mate. Lionhaeme sounds fascinating,” she stammered, her breath quickening as his hand stroked her upper thigh. His skin was rough, and the texture did something to her as he kept rubbing, stroking, kneading. His hand moved up and lay over her breast, just an inch away from her skin. His eyebrows crooked at her inquiringly, asking for her permission to touch, and she gave a tremulous nod.

  He exhaled. “Thank you, love. You will never regret this, I promise.”

  Holding himself away with his hands, Barghurr came down on top of her. Mia moved her arms trying to touch the lion chimera, but the satin ropes stopped her.

  He rubbed his leonine face against her palm. The texture of fur felt soft against the skin. “He wants to meet you too. But all in good time,” he murmured. “You always smell so fresh, of lemons.”

  “It is the lemon soap,” she managed.

  “Mmhm.” He now lifted her breasts to sniff at the underside. Mia’s body jolted at the intimate touch, but he stroked her upper arms and soothed her. He nuzzled her neck. The lion’s face nuzzled her too. He seemed to be almost marking her, and Mia now smelled of the same aromatic fragrance that emanated from him. Wherever he rubbed, her skin became flushed and hyper-sensitive.

  While she bit back a whimper of arousal, he rolled her over so that she lay on her front and rubbed his face against her back. Even as Mia worried what he thought of her nude body, his touch tickled her, and an involuntary giggle broke out of her.

  He turned her over onto her back. “That is a lovely sound. Laughing at me, Mia mine?” His eyes gleamed at her, and his mouth tugged up in amusement. Barghurr did not seem a man who smiled often. In fact, his demeanour gave the impression of a rather serious and stern man. But he had a naughty glint in his eye as he nuzzled her again, between her breasts, where it tickled.

  She snorted out loud in spite of herself. “Let me go!” Mia managed through laughter. She tried to pull away, but found her limbs held by black satin ties which suddenly looked more ominous now that she was able to see them.

  Anxious, Mia turned to him. “Please, why am I tied?”

  “Shh,” he crooned. “Trust me. It is just a way to enhance your pleasure and a form of love-play. I will remove them soon enough.”

  He ran his hands down her sides to soothe her and nuzzled her some more. His heady perfume wafted through the room and heightened her senses. Flushed, she m
oved restlessly and rubbed her thighs together. “I-I feel strange.”

  “I know,” he growled. Kneeling at her side, he bent her legs at the knees, till she was folded upon herself. Then he pulled them apart, until she was spread open, her knees now near her ears.

  His eyes focused on the exposed core of her and his pupils dilated. The lion roared loudly in exultation. The roar echoed through the chamber, even through her body, and Mia jerked in shock.

  “Barghurr,” she whispered, a plea for reassurance. Her position left Mia exquisitely mortified. She wasn’t sure if lovers normally exchanged such intimacies especially in the light. She swallowed, feeling self-conscious and out of her depth, even though she was not without some experience.

  His gaze met hers and she gasped. A storm of turbulent passion churned there. The lion’s fangs were out, and he was constantly growling. The leonine visage was clearer to her sight. She reached out to touch, but her movement was restricted by the ties. The lion was drawn towards her, slowly making his way closer.

  Barghurr closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He seemed to be trying to calm himself down. “It’s all right Mia. I won’t do anything you don’t like. I only want to look at you, mark you as mine.”

  Kneeling between her spread thighs, he breathed her in and groaned, as if tempted beyond measure. There were pinpricks at her thighs, from the sharp-edged claws that tipped his fingers. Barghurr sniffed all around her open mons and licked her inner thighs which were now damp.

  She was embarrassed. Was it normal to be so wet there?