CamillasConsequences
Page 17
More than ever, I am convinced Hephaestus is the man I should spend the rest of my life with. He has been ruled by revenge, but in the end his conscience prevented him from completing his scheme. Therefore, he is a good man, a kind man worthy of redemption. If he were not in France visiting Lexadora, I would take the Silverwing and fly to him, but crossing the English Channel is imprudent, for the wind currents are treacherous.
Suddenly, the communicator vibrates on the night table, the keys emitting a furious staccato. I rush toward the device, open the lid and read the words on the parchment. The message is from Devlin. Hephaestus is back.
I rush down the stairs, out the door and to the stable, shouting at Derrenger, who is oiling a bridle with a rag. “Saddle the Equine!”
“Are you certain, miss? It’s only ever been harnessed. Don’t know if a saddle—”
“Follow my instructions!”
“Yes, miss.” He drops the bridle and rushes to the nearest stall, where the Equine stands motionless.
Riding the Equine can surely not be any different than riding one of the Friesians. Derrenger leads the Equine from the stable, and I mount it sidesaddle, my skirts fanning against the beast machine’s flank. I kick the heel of my riding boot into its side and the Equine breaks into a smooth, tireless canter.
I reach Flames of Paradise, and the Equine blows smoke from its nostrils, sparking cries of amazement from the gathering crowd. Quickly, I dismount and rush into the shop. Devlin stands at the counter, polishing silver pendants and brooches.
He nods at me, then looks down at the countertop, shame-faced. “Miss Covington,” he mumbles.
I stride over to him, stroke his cheek, smile at his freckled face and take his hands in mine. Devlin is no longer a boy. He is a man, and I must treat him as such. “Please do not remain angry. Forgive me for my conduct. I care about you. I always have.”
“I oughta be askin’ you for forgiveness, miss.” As he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “When you fell off your chair, I realized what we’d done to you, what I did to you ’cause I’m the one who went back and bought the drug and…I…felt sick. Did he hurt you?” He glances up at me.
“He helped me recognize my misdeeds.”
“I wanted more than shillings and gold sovereigns. You always paid me well, but I wanted a proper job.”
“You were right to want more. If you wish, I can see to it that you attend school. Or I can try to find more suitable employment for you.”
“No. I like it here. I’m an apprentice,” he says proudly. “Hephaestus treats me well.”
“All right. I will no longer be requiring your assistance with my nefarious deeds as I did before.” It is time to stop meddling in the affairs of others. “Keep the communicator, however, in case you need to contact me.”
He nods. A sharp clang echoes in the forge. Taking a deep breath, I enter, and fiery heat overwhelms me. Shirtless, skin gleaming with perspiration, Hephaestus hammers a twisted piece of iron.
His arm stops in mid-air. “Camilla.” The red-hot iron slips from his grasp and clatters to the ground.
“Please do not send me away. We cannot part in this manner. Listen to me this time, for I have much to say.”
He falls silent, and I long to touch the hair that curls at the base of his neck. The intense heat sinks into my skin, and I take a deep breath of the smoke-tainted air. I place my bag on the work bench and open it, aware that Hephaestus’ arm is inches from my own. I pull out a sheaf of legal documents and hand them to him. Our fingers briefly touch, and my heart skips several beats.
“Here are the patents for the aetherical communicator and the Aeroglider. These inventions are rightfully yours. Also, when your father needed to settle his debts, he sold off his lands at a bargain price, one parcel at a time, and I purchased each one, including the estate. The deeds are here. If you wish, you can return to your life as Baron William McDermott, for that is truly who you are, a member of the aristocracy.”
Droplets of sweat trickle down his temples. I wipe them away with my lace handkerchief while he peruses the papers.
“I prefer to be known as Hephaestus Alighieri, metallurgist.” The forge’s flickering flames reflect in his eyes. “I have done much thinking these past few weeks. When I left you at Bleak Hills, my mind was in tumult. You represented my thirst for revenge, and I blamed you for twisting me into a blackmailer.”
“But Hephaestus, I—” He places two fingers upon my lips.
“The fault lay with me, not you. I drugged you, I threatened you, stripped you bare and defiled you.” He looks down, face contorted in disgust.
“You believe your actions consisted of defilement, but some of those actions were most arousing.” I smile, and Hephaestus seems taken aback. “You taught me that my idealized concept of love was rigid and uncompromising. Most importantly, you taught me the importance of clemency and compassion. Your methods were unconventional, yet effective.”
“Slipping the drug into your tea was unpardonable,” he says.
“Hephaestus, if you require my forgiveness, you have it.”
He appears relieved. “And you have mine, but you must also forgive yourself. When we slept together in your bed, you spoke in your sleep.”
Did I? “What did I say?”
“You spoke of Samson. You called out to him. Do you feel guilty about your actions?”
My sleep is sometimes interrupted by dreams of that day. “What I feel most guilty about is the fact I felt no guilt. I felt a sense of justice, satisfaction. He sank deeper into the bog, deeper and deeper, and he took a part of me with him. Part of me died in the swamp, the part of me that knew how to love and forgive and feel compassion for others.”
“Forgive yourself, Camilla. He would have killed you.”
“You resurrected those emotions in me, Hephaestus.” He removes my hat and strokes my hair. His touch is heaven. “Will you accept a woman who is flawed, but who wishes to embrace love again?” After all these years, I can finally move forward.
“Here is your answer. I made this hoping it would convince you to forgive my behavior.” He reaches into a small cabinet upon the wall and removes an iron brooch shaped into an intricate design. A camellia, and not just any camellia, but the scalloped edges of the Camilla’s Everlasting Love. Its beauty takes away my breath. Small rubies decorate the stem and leaves. “This flower represents desire, passion and the deep longing I have for you.”
“You transformed my pendant.”
“You no longer have a heart of iron. You must allow your heart to bloom like a flower.” He pins it to my blouse, directly over my breast.
“It’s exquisite.”
“I also melted the chain and fashioned it into a smaller piece.” He holds up an iron ring made of two interwoven parts embedded with additional rubies.
Dear sweet Lord…is it, can it be…is it what I believe? My hand flies to my throat and I cannot speak.
Hephaestus gets down on bended knee. Flames shimmer on the ring’s metal surface, and all I hear is the frantic beat of my heart. “Will you accept the love of a less-than-ideal man?”
“Oh yes, Hephaestus!” My vision blurs. A lump grows in my throat. “Oh yes!”
He places the ring on the third finger of my left hand. As though kissed by fire, the metal warms my skin. Hephaestus has barely regained his feet when I throw my arms around his neck and tilt my head, begging for a kiss. His sultry mouth comes closer to mine. Our lips meet, blazing hot, ravenous. We break the kiss, and he folds me into his arms, where I bubble over with happiness.
“I will put my Panoptoscope to rest. My career as an avenger has come to an end.”
“You had a fine career as a Panoptographer. Embrace your talent once more. The International Wildlife Society would be pleased to have you return to the fold. Make inquiries.”
What an excellent idea. “You do not want a wife who merely sits at home and plans tea parties and balls?”
He snorts and breaks into deep la
ughter. “I do not want an ordinary woman. I want Camilla Covington.”
“If I accept an assignment that sends me aboard the next dirigible to a faraway land for a few months, will you travel with me?”
“Why not? It is important to broaden one’s horizons by traveling the world.”
I rest my cheek against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. It is time to spread my wings again and become the woman I once was, the fearless Panoptographer in love with the wild.
“When we marry, where will we live?” I ask. “Bleak Hills is a mausoleum for my cabinet of curiosities. I do not wish to return there. In fact, I am considering transforming my estate into a school for orphaned boys.”
“Devlin will be pleased.” Hephaestus takes a fistful of my hair and pulls, letting it slide gently through his fingers. “Now that I know what transpired between Lexadora and my father, I would also prefer to sell his estate. My memories have been tainted.”
He traces the line of my jaw, and I take his hand in mine, pressing my lips against his palm. “We will celebrate our new beginnings with a new home.”
Hephaestus cups my chin. “You know I do not like to follow social conventions. I want to break another rule, Camilla, if you will allow me.” Fierce obsidian eyes bore into mine. “I wish to make love to you before we marry.”
“I accept, for I am in love with you,” I say without hesitation. My nubbin throbs in agreement, and I stand on my toes to kiss his rough cheek. “Do not be overly gentle. Set your passions free, for there is a carnal beast within me that has always sought to be unleashed.”
A devilish smile curls his lips. “Understood, my sweet.” He seizes my shoulders and turns me around, places both my hands against the work bench and whispers, “Do not move.”
I stand statue-still, shivers of delight dancing over my skin. He reaches in front of me, slowly kneads my breasts, holding them firmly and lovingly. Then his dexterous fingers unbutton my blouse. He removes my hands from the work bench only long enough to slip off my garment, and then he returns them to their place.
“Stay still.”
His breath warms my neck, and he begins to work on my corset. The laces make a sharp, whipping sound as he yanks them loose, and the garment, reinforced by strips of copper, drops to the floor. Now I inhale huge gulps of air instead of tiny sips, and my lungs fill like bellows. My breasts heave, and Hephaestus takes them in his hands, weighing them, comparing them, as if they are plump fruit ready to be plucked from the tree. His thumbs swirl around my nipples, teasing and flicking, and my bare back presses against his chest. The sweet teasing of my tender peaks ends in a sharp pinch that makes me gasp in bliss.
Tongues of flame snake and sputter. Firelight reaches higher, dancing on the silver-gray knight that stands by the forge. Hephaestus brushes aside my hair, and his tongue traces a delicious path along the back of my neck. He seizes the waistband of my skirt, taking hold of my undergarments at the same time, pulling them both down in one swift, gasp-inducing movement. Save for my ankle-high kid boots, I am completely nude, and it thrills me to be free of the layers of clothing society imposes on a woman. Moisture gathers in my cunny, and my pearl is swollen and eager for Hephaestus’ touch. I hear the shift of fabric behind me. What is he doing? Removing his trousers. When he presses his body against mine, he is nude as well, his skin lava-hot against my skin. He is so tall that his erect member presses insistently at my lower back.
“I want to see you,” I say, removing my hands from the work bench.
His body entrances me, especially in the firelight, and I slowly walk around him, my palms touching every surface, every crack, every cleft. Shadows leap and shift, highlighting the smooth curve of his arse, the brawny thighs, the thick cords of muscle on his arms and neck. He is mine.
The temptation is too great. I slap his buttocks and Hephaestus jumps. “If only I had my paddle.” My lips curve into a ravenous smile, and my hand lingers on his erection.
“There is no need for a paddle when I can do this.” He locks his fingers over my wrists, spins me around and slaps me hard on the buttocks.
The blow stings just enough for me to squeal in delight. “Yes, Hephaestus! More!”
The flat of his hand strikes me again, and with each squeal he slaps me slightly harder, until I am certain my skin is red. Nevertheless, I want more.
“Let me sate your carnal impulses.” He grips my waist and sweeps me off my feet, setting me down on the work bench.
Eagerly, I open my thighs and pull him close, my cunny throbbing in anticipation. Finally, after watching dozens upon dozens of couplings, I will experience the carnal act. Hephaestus covers my neck in frenzied kisses. His tongue flicks into my mouth, and I pull back in surprise before kissing him more passionately than before, parting my lips to welcome his tongue, which is so warm and unexpected.
The intensity of our kisses increases, and his lips bruise mine. My fingernails claw at his back as I attempt to pull him closer, to pull him into me. He grips my throat, his thumb and forefinger pressing hard against my neck. I am at his mercy, and I like it.
“Are you certain?” he asks.
“Yes. Take me here in your forge!” My thighs open wider. I have imagined this moment so many times in my mind it scarcely seems real. But it is. At last, it is happening, and my virginity is ripe for the picking.
Hephaestus pulls back, dips his head between my legs and laps at my pearl. I moan and moan and moan. His tongue pauses, lowers to my slit, sliding upward, stopping at my pearl, where he sucks until whimpering cries of ecstasy spill from my mouth. My back arches, my eyes close and sparks shimmer behind my eyelids. He lifts his head, his chin wet with my honey. When we embrace, he tastes faintly of my musk.
His cock, long and thick, presses into my slit. I wince, and Hephaestus pulls back, concern overwhelming his lust.
“Do not stop!” I grip his shoulders and draw him closer, my legs fiercely clamping around his waist.
Hephaestus seizes my hips and grips me tight. His member thrusts at my maidenhead once, twice. A moment of pain—the sweetest pain—and he slides into me, deep into my moist nether regions. The pain is fleeting, replaced by pleasure as he fills me with his cock. He slides in and out, his face tense and focused.
“Come deeper inside, my love,” I whisper. “Deeper. Thrust harder.”
He thrusts as hard as a bull, bearing down on me, plunging repeatedly.
“Yes, oh yes. Take me, Hephaestus. Take all of me, for I am yours!” Despite years of voyeurism, I have rarely witnessed passion such as ours. My fingernails leave red scratches on his shoulders. My breasts bob up and down in rhythm with his motion.
Hephaestus pants heavily, yet his pace never slows, and when I place my hand against his chest, I sense the galloping beat of his heart. His intense gaze meets mine, and I know his climax looms near. Mine approaches as well, for the exquisite sensation of his member sliding in and out of my cunny drives me mad with passion. When he pushes deep inside, my cunny comes alive with pleasure that radiates through my entire body. My pearl hungers for every thrust. Perspiration covers my skin, and my thighs glisten. I lose myself in Hephaestus, in the heat that surrounds us, in the fire that crackles and leaps, throwing shadows on the walls. Even though I close my eyes, I still see the fire, feel it inside me, licking at me, setting me ablaze with erotic enchantments.
Suddenly, I reach climax, and the intensity overwhelms my senses, unlike anything I have ever experienced with my own hand. The ecstasy is powerful beyond all comprehension, and I utter a long, deep moan. Hephaestus’ grip tightens, and his steady hammering ceases. He grunts and shudders and spills his seed inside my nether folds. I rock back and press against him, desperate for the feeling to last. He leans forward, kisses my neck and locks me in an embrace. We hold on to one another as tightly as the twin bands that make up my engagement ring, basking in the last remnants of our release.
“Has my betrothed enjoyed her first experience?” he whispers, shelteri
ng me in his arms.
“It was heaven.” My cheek rests against his. “I have tasted the flames of paradise.”
For the longest time, we remain tangled in each other’s arms, our heavy breathing returning to its normal rhythm, and I dream of our future together.
About Helena Harker
Helena Harker is a teacher by day, writer by night, a daydreamer who loves to escape to other worlds. Her fiction is populated by strong men, passionate women and lots of paranormal creatures. In her free time she enjoys photography and curling up with a good book. She is multi-published and also writes in other genres.
Helena welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Helena Harker
Art of Desire
Carnal Devices
Master’s Submission
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Camilla’s Consequences
ISBN 9781419946455
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Camilla’s Consequences Copyright © 2013 Helena Harker
Edited by Briana St. James
Cover design by Syneca
Cover photography by Elisanth, Tuja66/Fotolia.com, tkemot/shutterstock.com
Electronic book publication June 2013
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