by L. M. Pruitt
He sank his fangs in to my throat, the minute pain fading away. I bit my lip to stifle my moan, my eyes fluttering shut as he began to drink, slow and steady. Lifting one hand, I threaded my fingers through his hair, holding him tighter to me.
A low heat began to spread through me, fanning from where his lips nuzzled against my skin. Sighing, my head falling back to rest on his shoulder, I gave myself over to the waves of pleasure. When he withdrew his fangs, licking over the pin-prick holes to seal them, I whispered, “You should drink more.”
“Later.” Surging to his feet, he pulled me with him, undoing the long line of buttons decorating my back with preternatural speed. Sliding his hands between my corset and the loosened gown, he pushed the satin down until it lay in a puddle at my feet. Pressing a kiss to the still throbbing wound, he said, “I have other needs which must be attended to.”
Opening my eyes, I turned in his embrace, rising until I was able to brush my lips over his. “And what of my needs, Your Grace?”
“Have no fear, my little daisy.” His returned kiss was harsher, bruising, and I trembled, my own desires darkening. “Both your needs and mine will be well met before the first rays of the sun should brighten your window.”
Spinning me toward the mirror, he applied pressure to my back, bending me until I placed my palms on the glossy wooden surface of the vanity. Our breaths echoed through the room as one as he unlaced my corset, tossing the whalebone stays to one side before divesting me of my chemise. Skimming his hands up my torso, he cupped my breasts, rubbing his thumbs over my already hard nipples.
I moaned unashamedly, watching in the mirror as he played his hands over every inch of my body. My skin flushed a delicate pink, a color only a half shade darker than the roses now blooming in Grégoire’s cheeks. When he suddenly stepped away, cold air rushing in to fill the space where his body had been, I whimpered.
“Shh, shh, I am not going far.” Matching actions to words, he moved forward and opened my jewelry box, removing a long, single strand of snow white pearls. He chuckled when I sucked in a shallow breath. “Ah, yes. You remember these well.”
“I thought you said you had not the patience for delays this evening.”
“Delays to our pleasure, darling.” He rolled the pearls down my spine with one hand, his tongue following, raising goose bumps. “We both know how much you enjoy this.” He sighed, fisting the necklace before pressing it to the moist flesh between my thighs. “And how much I do as well.”
My head tipped forward, my eyes closing, at the first delicate play of his tongue over my skin. He licked upward, slowly, before swirling his tongue around my own hardened pearl. The warm suppleness of his mouth was replaced by the firmness of the small spheres, eliciting a shudder from me.
Over and over the exchange played, pushing me closer and closer to the precipice. When at long last he sucked the small bundle of nerves between his lips, biting down gently, I toppled over the cliff in to release gladly, all but weeping from the pleasure. My knees buckled and I would have fallen if he had not caught me, wrapping an arm around my waist.
“Look at me, Marguerite.”
I opened my eyes, watching through heavy lids as he straightened, stripping his own clothes with far less care than he’d shown mine. He clasped the necklace around my throat, the pearls slick with the moisture from my release as they rolled over my breasts, rubbing against my nipples. Unpinning my hair, he raked his hands through the curls before letting them fall around my shoulders.
When he nudged his hips forward, the hardened length of his shaft slipping deep inside, we both sighed.
“Ah, my little daisy.” Running his hands down my sides, he gripped my hips, his fingers flexing before tightening. Pressing a kiss to my shoulder, he whispered, “How you undo me.”
Shifting my weight to one hand, I wrapped the necklace around the other before sliding it between my thighs. The pearls rubbed against us both with each thrust, increasing the pleasure to the point of exquisite pain. When my arm began to tremble, I leaned further forward, dropping my weight to my elbow. The change in angle allowed Grégoire to fill me even more, his hips grinding against mine with every forward movement.
“Grégoire.” I wet my lips, swallowing past the knot of desire. “I need….”
“What?” He pressed his lips to my neck, his breathing nearly as harsh as mine. “Tell me, Marguerite. Tell me what you need.”
“Feed.” I gasped out the single word, the need for release almost stronger than the need for air. “Now, Grégoire, feed--.”
He sank fangs in my throat.
I cried out as the world exploded in silver and gold tinged blackness, the orgasm taking away what little breath I had. My hand fell away, the necklace unwinding as I sagged against the unyielding edge of the vanity. Some part of my mind was aware of Grégoire’s frantic thrusts, his own shout of release muffled against my neck as he continued to feed, finally collapsing on top of me.
After long minutes, he retracted his fangs, once again licking the wound closed. Straightening, he helped me to stand, turning me in his embrace. A single drop of blood clung to his lower lip and I raised my hand, smearing it over his mouth. When his tongue flicked out, cleaning my thumb, I trembled.
He smiled, lifting me in his arms and carrying me to the bed. “The night is still so very young, darling. So very young.”
The next morning, I rolled over, snuggling against Grégoire. Pressing my lips to his bare chest, I whispered, “We forgot to close the drapes.”
“Hmm.” Skimming his fingers down my spine, tracing each vertebrae with exquisite precision, he kissed the top of my head. “Is the sun bothering you?”
“I should be asking you that.” I scraped my nails over his torso lightly, chuckling when he stirred restlessly. “Is something amiss, Your Grace?”
“Nothing which can’t be set to rights with a little work.” Rolling atop me, he grabbed my wrists, pinning them to the pillow above my head. Leaning down, he licked my lower lip, laughing when I shivered. “And you know I am a man who enjoys my work.”
The bedroom door burst open, a tornado of blonde curls whirling across the wooden floor toward the bed. Before either of us could warn her to slow down, Sophie smacked directly in to the lower bedpost.
“Oh, ma cocette.” I wiggled out of the Duke’s grasp, snagging my robe and tugging it on as I hurried to our daughter. She hadn’t started to cry yet but I knew it was only a matter of time. The Duke and I had long ago determined her ego was more fragile than her body. Scooping her up, I cuddled her to me, stroking her hair. “We have told you time and again to be careful.”
She sniffled once before bursting in to tears.
“I am at an utter loss as to where she acquired such a talent for dramatics.” The Duke flopped on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling and sighing. “If she should shun the idea of being a wife and mother, she can always pursue a career on the stage.”
“Is there any reason she cannot do both?” Turning to face him, I continued to rock Sophie, patting her back while she cried. A quick examination had shown no blood and the minute bruise would heal before the tears dried. While she did not heal as fast as her father, she came fairly close. Lifting my brows, I said, “The last I had heard, the members of the theatre and opera companies were held in an esteem almost as high as the King’s courtiers.”
“Almost is stretching it somewhat, dearest.” Sitting up, he mounded the pillows behind him before patting the bed. “Bring her here, let me see if we should send for the physician or for the undertaker.”
I swallowed down my laughter as Sophie’s crying increased in volume and fervency. “Grégoire.”
“Daughter, I am only jesting.” Rolling his eyes, he patted the bed again. “Marguerite, please, before the entire room is awash with her sorrow.”
Sighing, I crawled up on the bed next to him, Sophie clinging to me like a limpet. When he attempted to pry her away, she only gripped me tighter. Huffing out a brea
th, I said, “Sophie, do not be ridiculous. Your father is not going to send for the undertaker.”
She mumbled, the words muffled against my neck. The Duke pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sophie Amelia Therese Barthélemy, if you have something you wish to say, cease your wailing and hiding.”
Sophie sniffled once before pulling back, using one tiny fist to knuckle away the tears continuing to streak down her cheeks. “I do not want Papa to send for the ‘sican, either. He is mean and it hurts when he pokes me.” She sniffled again, although no fresh tears appeared. “And he smells.”
The Duke burst in to a fit of laughter, bending double and pressing a fist to his stomach. I scowled at him before addressing Sophie. “We do not say people smell. It is impolite.”
“But he does!” Her voice rose on a wail, her lower lip pushing out in a trembling pout. “He smells like… nasty blood.”
I sighed when the Duke only continued to laugh. “Be that as it may, we do not say people smell.” Glancing at the Duke, I said, “You are not helping the situation, Your Grace.”
“I am sorry, Marguerite, truly, but our daughter is correct—Silas does carry a distinct odor, a highly unpleasant one.” Straightening, he wiped away a single bloody tear before taking Sophie from me, snuggling her between us. Tapping her nose, he said, “Still, your mama is correct. You would not want anyone to think you are not a little lady, would you?”
She sniffled and shook her head. “No, Papa.”
“I did not think so. Now, since you say we are not to send for the physician or for the undertaker, let me examine you and see what damage has been done.” Grasping her chin, he narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, ignoring her watery giggle as he squinted at her. “Hmm. I do not believe you have given yourself any permanent injury.”
“So we can still go to the zoo?” She rubbed her hands over her face, smearing away the last few tears. “And see the stripy cats?”
“Yes, you bratty little baggage, we shall go see the stripy cats.” Releasing her chin, he reached down and tickled her toes, both of them laughing. Kissing her nose, he said, “First, however, you must have your breakfast and your lessons.” When she started to pout, he clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Breakfast and lessons, daughter, or we shall spend the afternoon not at the zoo but at church with Father Beniamin.”
“Yes, Papa.” She planted a smacking kiss on his cheek before bestowing the same adulation on me. Squirming off the bed, she hurried toward the door, her blue cotton nightdress grazing the floor. Turning at the threshold, she said, “Are you coming with us, Mama?”
“I wish I could but I have a meeting this afternoon.” Tightening the belt of my robe, I stood, crossing the room and kneeling in front of her. Tucking a curl behind her ear, I stroked my thumb down her cheek. “You and Papa will have a wonderful time and then you will tell me all about it at dinner tonight.”
She smiled and kissed me again. “Yes, Mama.”
“And I will look forward to it. Now….” Standing, I trailed off, stepping out in to the hall and frowning. “Where is Emily?”
“Knowing our daughter’s nursemaid, she is probably still abed herself.” The Duke snorted, somehow managing to turn the offensive noise in to something delicate. “Although considering how much energy Sophie has, I daresay the poor woman needs her rest.”
“Be that as it may, I do not care to have Sophie wandering about without supervision.” Scooping her up, I glanced over my shoulder at the Duke and smiled. “And so another day begins.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Good morning, Madame.”
“Good morning, students.” I walked to the front of the classroom, clasping my hands at my waist and studying the assembled group. As I’d expected, my newest pupil had situated herself as close to the far back corner as possible. They all did, their first few days, until they were convinced they wouldn’t be raped and ravished or worse—sold.
Just because someone made the choice to enter the demimonde did not mean they were fully informed when doing so.
“As I’m sure you’re all aware of by now, we have a new student.” Lifting my brows and tilting my head, I nodded at Harriet. “I am also sure you will all go out of your way to make her feel welcome while she adjusts to her new surroundings.”
“Yes, Madame.” The chorus this time was somewhat subdued and more than one face started to shift in to petulant lines.
“I would be most disconcerted if I were to hear that any of you had behaved in such a way as to shame either myself or the school.” I waited until the cries of protest died away before smiling. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your understanding.”
As expected, my term of address settled the room. A dozen young women and a half dozen young men sat at their desks, quiet and attentive, writing instruments at the ready. The one exception was Harriet, but again, that was to be expected.
I doubted she’d seen a fountain pen in the human district. Or an entire house lit without the need for candles or heated and cooled without multiple fires and fans.
There was more than one reason why the overwhelming majority of the people who entered the demimonde had no regrets about not being welcomed back in the human district.
“This morning we will be focusing on musical appreciation, more specifically, the opera.” I laughed when everyone groaned, one or two of the students slumping in their seats and wincing. “Believe me, I understand your disappointment. However, I cannot begin to tell you how important a working knowledge of the more commonly performed productions is, especially for those of you who will be involved with members of the nobility.”
“I didn’t think companions….” Harriet trailed off, swallowing hard when everyone turned to look at her. I refrained from smiling when she squared her shoulders and stiffened her spine. “I didn’t think companions were allowed out of the house.”
One of the older students, a lovely blonde girl who was already contracted to an alderman in a neighboring parish, attempted to stifle a giggle. I frowned at her and shook my head. “Alma—you held very similar beliefs when you first arrived. Or do you not remember how you wept for days after your mother, may she rest in peace, deposited you on my doorstep?”
“No, Madame.” Alma shook her head, all her attention on her desk. “I’m sorry.”
“As to your question, Harriet, I have yet to meet an individual who forced their companion to stay indoors.” Easing down, I perched on the edge of my chair, making sure to keep my posture absolutely perfect. I had long ago discovered the key to enforcing certain lessons—for instance, posture and carriage—was to provide a constant example. “Indeed, most of the ladies and gentlemen seek a companion so they might have someone to share their interests with, from opera to theatre to traveling.”
Another girl, a statuesque redhead who would be graduating within the month, raised her hand slowly. When I nodded, she turned to Harriet, her wispy voice still managing to project to all corners of the room. “My friend has said he is looking forward to having me accompany him as he completes his judicial circuit.”
One by one, the others chimed in with similar comments from their own friends. Those who did not yet have a particular friend, all of them relatively new themselves, listened with rapt attention. I simply sat, waiting until they had once again lapsed in to silence.
This, too, was something I’d learned in the ten years I had been educating young men and women. Sometimes the best teachers were the students themselves.
“So you can see, it is important you are well versed in a number of areas of culture.” Shifting until I was able to reach the phonograph, I lifted the arm and paused. “Note I do not say you have to enjoy each area.”
The quick spate of giggles died away as I lowered the arm and the opening strains of The Magic Flute began to play. Clasping my hands in my lap, I closed my eyes and sighed.
I truly did despise the opera.
“Are you not hungry, dear?” I studied Harriet, still staring at
her meal after a solid fifteen minutes. When she continued to keep her gaze on the plate, I cleared my throat. “Harriet, you will learn that when I ask a question, I expect an answer, even if you do not wish to give one.”
She mumbled something, her response so quick and so low I doubted ever Grégoire with his extraordinary hearing would have been able to decipher it. Laying my silver on my plate, I laced my fingers together, steepling them under my chin. “Harriet, I do not wish to embarrass you with unwanted attention but you are leaving me little choice.”
“There’s too much stuff!” She didn’t quite yell—I suspected she was still too unsure of her future in the house to show any real temper—but it was without a doubt the loudest she had spoken in any of my encounters with her. She swallowed, blinking back tears. “I don’t know which of these things I’m supposed to use.”
“Then ask, dear.” I nodded at the tiny brunette sitting next to her. “Isabella, would you please answer any questions Harriet might have?”
“Of course, Madame.” Isabella inclined her head gracefully, her curls bobbing gently. After a year of tutoring, there was virtually no trace of the half wild creature Oscar, the Earl of St. Bernard, had deposited on my doorstep with the instruction to make her a lady in every sense but name. I had the sneaking suspicion the Earl would take care of that last part himself. Turning to Harriet, she said, “I remember how confused I was when I first arrived. It can be very frightening.”
Certain Harriet was in good hands, I made to return to my own meal. Before I picked up my utensils, the dining room door opened and Adelaide bustled in, her face shiny with sweat. I sighed and shook my head. “You’ve been in the laundry again, haven’t you?”
“Only to make sure that new machine the Duke is so fascinated with doesn’t ruin your mother’s best linens.”
Only dear, sweet, old-fashioned Adelaide would be so suspicious of an invention which had reduced the amount of time and energy spent in cleaning clothes. Forcing back a smile, I said, “We’ve yet to have an incident in the two years since the Duke convinced Monsieur Morgan to allow us to have one of the first sets of his new washing and drying machines.”