She cried out when he suckled her again and the explosion of her orgasm was intense and enormous. Her hips rocked out of control, her sheath twitched and shuddered.
He stood up even as she continued to arch and sway with relief and shucked his trousers down. She opened for him even as she continued to cry out and took him when he thrust into her in one stroke.
“Keep coming, angel,” he whispered into her shoulder as he retreated and moved forward again. She sobbed with pleasure, her nails digging into his shoulders through his jacket. Her legs tightened around him and her hips ground as the orgasm he had started with his lips continued on.
He took her. There was no doubt that was what he was doing. His strokes were hard and harsh. But she didn’t resist. She met each one with enthusiasm, abandoning herself to him utterly and completely. Her surrender was so sweet that it drove him to the edge of orgasm within a few thrusts. He could feel her body’s pleasure fading, her limbs relaxing after such intense release. He wanted to feel her come with him. He wanted to take her even further along the road to being under his sexual sway.
“Did I tel you to stop?” he asked, his voice low against her ear.
She tensed, leaning back to look at him with an unreadable expression. “I—”
“I want you to come again,” he murmured, grinding his hips against hers in a slow circle.
Her lids fluttered shut and she moaned. “I can’t do it again.”
“You can,” he said, repeating the slow circle as he cupped her backside with one hand and lifted her into a better position.
He slipped his other hand between their bodies, squeezing one breast gently before he snaked his way down between her legs. He thrust forward as he fingered her sensitive clit.
“More to the point, you will come, Beatrice.”
Her breath came in pants now as she rested her head back against the glass behind her. She whimpered as he thrust again.
“It’s too much,” she moaned.
He chuckled and stimulated her clit once more.
“There is no such thing. Come for me. Now.”
With a cry, she did exactly what he had ordered. Her hips arched in a wild rhythm against his and her cries fil ed the air as her body squeezed his cock in steady, wild pulses.
His wire-thin control snapped as her fingers dug into his lower arms and he growled out his own pleasure before he pul ed out of her and let his seed pulse between them as his arms came around her.
She had done as he asked and he had reveled in every moment of it. If he had been skeptical of their arrangement before, now he was beginning to wonder if he had been wrong. Perhaps he had found the if he had been wrong. Perhaps he had found the woman who could accept his proclivities, his life. Perhaps he had found his bride after al .
Chapter Nine
B eatrice lifted her face to the sunny sky and drew in a deep breath. After days hiding away in Gareth’s estate, the feel of the breeze in her hair and the sun on her skin was heavenly. She continued walking down the rol ing hil away from the house.
It wasn’t that she was complaining about what she had been doing since her arrival here. On the contrary, locking herself away and giving her body to Gareth was most definitely her pleasure. In the four days she had been here, his touch had brought her to completion so many times and in so many ways that she had almost lost count. And yet, she stil waited for him to bring her back to that secret room she had seen on her first night here.
She stil waited for him to take his control of her body beyond just the control of her orgasms, which he had perfected to near art. Now just the sound of his gravel y voice murmuring, “Now,” could make her quiver. If he so much as added his touch, she was lost. But she was wel aware that he had more for her to bear and she found herself tightly wound with tension
…and titil ation…at the idea that he would soon require more and more from her body…from her soul.
Stil , she welcomed this respite from the intensity of her time in Gareth’s bed. He had been obliged to take care of some business and she had decided to walk through the rol ing hil s and get to know the land better. She breathed in the softly scented air and looked around her. Gareth’s estate was the most beautiful place she had ever seen. Her own childhood estate had been in terrible disarray her entire life. In the end, their furniture had been shabby and il kept, her father had sold many of their finer things. It was humiliating. London was better. The townhome Beatrice shared with her mother and sister was very nice. Of course it would be. It had been provided by the shared funds of her two very rich brothers-in-law, and they spared no expense to make it appear that they gave a damn. But as fine a home as it was, it was so close and tight to its neighbors that there was no freedom to be found there. As for her married sisters’ estates, no one could deny that the Earl of Rothschild and the Duke of Kilgrath had magnificent homes, but she never felt quite right at either of them. From the moment she stepped within their wal s, she knew her hosts were counting the moments until she was gone. No amount of false friendliness or beauty could camouflage that fact.
Here it was different. Here she could breathe. There was no mother standing over her shoulder giving her twenty-five directions on what she should do differently. Here she did not have eyes on her, constantly judging and hating her for things she had done and said. She felt free as she walked along the pretty lawn that seemed to go on forever.
Even in the house, she belonged. Aside from the one footman who seemed to personal y despise her ever since that morning when she berated him, the servants did not treat her badly or openly judge her. The house was available to her and her desires, whether that was a quiet hour reading in Gareth’s library or a hot, passionate tryst with him against the door in his tidy office.
She shivered as she shook off that particular memory. Yes, she did feel comfortable here. At home. Perhaps, if she passed al of Gareth’s tests and they married as they had agreed to do at the beginning of their bargain, she could even be happy. Which was a concept she had al but given up on over the past few years.
years.
She sighed as she entered a little copse of trees at the base of a hil . One had been fel ed by a storm what looked like years ago and she sank down on the fal en trunk to relax for a moment before she returned to the house and a planned meeting with Gareth after he concluded his business.
She had just taken her place and arranged her skirts around her when there was a rustling in the woods off to her right. She tensed as she looked through the shadowy branches.
“H–hel o?” she cal ed out into the quiet, feeling foolish since she realized the sound was likely only some smal animal hunting in the brush. Stil , she sensed a presence here. A person.
There was no reply of course, and she shook her head at her own foolish imagination’s wild creation. Obviously, she had been cooped up in the house too long. Perhaps she would suggest to Gareth that they take a walk each day, although she wasn’t certain she wanted so much time with Gareth when he could interrogate her about the past she wanted to keep secret. He wanted to know too much, to see—
Before she could finish her thought, the rustling came again, this time louder, and she was certain it came from something much larger than a field mouse came from something much larger than a field mouse or rabbit nosing through the brush. She got to her feet and faced the sound.
“Who is there?” she snapped, retreating once again to sharpness when fear mobbed her. She knew better than to show any weakness to an enemy. “I know someone is out there. Show your face to me immediately.”
“With pleasure.”
Beatrice yelped as a man stepped out of the shadows toward her. He was tal and thin, rangy, almost like he hadn’t been eating wel for quite some time. His clothing was in il repair, as wel . He held a bottle in one hand, but even before she recognized it as whiskey, she smel ed the brew on him and recoiled.
“And just who are you, trespassing on the Marquis of Highcroft’s estate?” she asked
, backing up as she tried to maintain a haughty, angry tone in the face of this marauding stranger who was staring at her with such focused intent.
He laughed, though the sound held no pleasure. “He said Highcroft had a whore here with him, but here you are, a fine lady.”
Beatrice flinched at his tone, fil ed with bitterness and hatred. His pointed, insulting words hung between them, making her stomach turn and her hands shake. This person apparently despised her, though she was certain she had never met him before he popped out of the woods behind her.
Worse, the stranger before her said “he” had told him something about her. “He,” another person
…someone spreading the word about her residence here. If that were true, if someone had seen her arrive here, if Gareth’s servants were spreading tales in the township, that meant those stories could get back to the ton at large and there would be no going back then. Her life would be utterly and completely over.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she snapped, as she took several steps away from the drunken invader. She had to control whatever damage had been done by what he heard and then get away from this person as quickly as possible. “I am Lord Highcroft’s fiancée and I’m here with a large party of guests. You, sir, are not one of them and I suggest you leave immediately.”
The man had stopped advancing on her and the bottle in his hand hit the ground at his feet as he stared at her. High emotion fil ed his cloudy stare, but this time it wasn’t hatred but shock and perhaps a tinge of heartache.
“Fiancée, are you?” His voice cracked slightly.
“She’s dead in the ground and he replaces her with some tart.”
Beatrice folded her arms, stung and ever more frightened by this person’s words and his obviously emotional state. “If you do not go at once, I shal scream and it wil bring our party running. They are only just over the hil .”
The man shook off his thoughts and smiled at her.
“There isn’t anyone close by, miss. I know that for a fact. Just as I know there isn’t a party here at al . It’s just you and him and whatever dirty little game he wants you to play.”
Beatrice opened and shut her mouth hopelessly. This was worse than she thought. This man had more than a passing rumor, he had details about why she was here. Someone with intimate knowledge had apparently told him about her. That idea sickened and frightened her.
She had to get away. To return to Gareth. He would know what to do.
She lifted her chin with al the haughtiness she had ever used to push others away. “I have heard enough of your insults. I’m returning to the house, sir. I once again advise you to leave!”
She turned, but he bounded forward and caught her arm. Instinct immediately took over and Beatrice began to fight, pushing at her captor’s hand, yanking her arm to free it until it hurt, but he held fast al the time.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he cried as she struggled. “You and I aren’t finished. I won’t let him get away with this. With anything.”
“Stop it,” Beatrice screamed as the vagrant spun her around to face him. The whiskey smel was stronger now and she leaned away from it. “Release me this instant.”
He didn’t, instead he stepped back and began dragging her deeper into the wooded darkness and God only knew what kind of torment. She screamed as loudly as she could, but had no il usion her cries would bring aid. She had refused the company of the servant Gareth provided her, so she had not been fol owed. No one would even notice she was missing until she was late for her meeting with Gareth in almost an hour. By that time she could very wel be dead.
So she did the only thing she could think of. Pivoting slightly, she kneed her attacker right between the legs as hard as she could.
He let her go as he let out a guttural groan of pure pain. “You bitch!”
“Beatrice!” came a voice from the distance.
She turned and ran toward it, recognizing Gareth’s voice instantly. “I’m here! Help me!” she cried as she saw him come over the hil toward her. When he heard her cal out, he began to run to meet her.
“What is it?” he asked as she launched herself into his arms and held tight, her body trembling even as she wil ed it to stop. “Why were you screaming?”
“He appeared out of nowhere,” she said, pointing toward the man who was just now rising to his feet and weaving toward them. “He attacked me!”
Gareth set her aside gently and crashed toward the unknown assailant like an angry beast freed from his cage. “What the hel —”
He did not finish. To Beatrice’s surprise, when the other man lifted his head and looked at Gareth, it stopped Gareth in his tracks. He stared and the two men locked eyes. From the look they exchanged, it was evident they knew each other.
“What are you doing here?” Gareth breathed.
The other man shook his head. “It won’t happen, Highcroft. I swear to the heavens, I’l do to her what you did to mine. I swear to it.”
Then he turned and ran off through the woods. Wel , limped off, since he was stil clutching his crotch. It gave Beatrice some smal satisfaction to know that she had damaged him. But it was very smal since his final threat was obviously meant for her.
Gareth seemed to consider making chase, but then he turned back. They stared at each other for a long moment, but then he ran for her and caught her into an embrace again. This time it was far tighter. Far more intense and intimate.
“Are you al right?” he breathed into her hair. “Did he harm you in any way?”
She clung to him, taking comfort in his touch even though she knew she should push away. Flee this emotional connection she so feared making.
“He didn’t hurt me.” She smiled as she pul ed back, but it was shaky at best. “I did hurt him.”
He returned the shaky smile with one of his own.
“You were so brave, Beatrice.”
Then his mouth was on her with a desperate fear she could almost taste. She recognized in that moment just how threatened she had been and it frightened her. But with Gareth’s arms around her she was safe. Protected. She surrendered to that feeling as they dropped to the ground on their knees at the same time. She reached for his jacket, shoving at the heavy fabric with both hands, desperate to feel his bare skin on hers. He drew back with surprise lighting his stare.
“Are you certain?”
Instead of words, she responded by cupping his cheeks and lifting herself to kiss him. She poured al of herself into the passion of that kiss and she felt him accept it, felt it merge with his own high emotions. Then he was unbuttoning her gown, she was tearing violently at his shirt. Clothing fel around them, creating a makeshift bed that he lay across, with her splayed across his chest.
His fingers threaded through her hair and the blond length of it fel down around her shoulders and back. She ignored the tickle and instead pressed a warm kiss against Gareth’s chest. He growled with pleasure, but to her surprise he didn’t control what she did next. He simply pressed one hand into the smal of her back to lazily stroke patterns into her skin with his fingers. The other hand he rested behind his head as a pil ow. And al he did was watch her.
She wrinkled her brow. He had never al owed her to control their lovemaking. She wasn’t even sure what to do, although her body had some very specific ideas.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he whispered as he stroked that little hol ow in her lower back gently and stoked the fire between her legs without even trying.
“Because you’re not…not…”
“Dominating you?” he asked with a smile.
She nodded.
“If I am to master you, what it truly means is that I take responsibility not just for your pleasure when we make love, but your needs. And I think after your ordeal, what you need is to take a little of your power back. So take it, Beatrice. I offer it to you freely.”
She blinked. She had never imagined that he considered part of his duty to be the caretaker of her wel -
being. That implied that he would care for her. Truly consider her needs. The last man who had promised to do that was her father, and he had failed in his charge miserably, leaving Beatrice to vow never to let herself ful y depend upon anyone else again. But Gareth was promising she could. With her body. With more than that. The idea was too intense and she shifted to pul away, but he increased the pressure on her skin and easily kept her splayed atop him.
“Don’t run, Beatrice.” He held her gaze. “You can over-think this later. You can give me al your reasons for why I am wrong and you are right. For now, take what I’m offering. You need it.”
She hesitated as she stared down at him. She did want what he offered so desperately. She wanted to be comforted and protected by his touch. She wanted the pleasure she would surely find. And she was tempted by the prospect that the power was shifting in her direction and she could lead where this encounter would take them.
Tentative, she bent her head and pressed her lips to his. She waited for him to overpower with his kiss, but true to his word, he let her lead. He parted his lips, but did not crush or take or claim. She tasted him, resistance melting from her very bones as she surrendered into the kiss and al the pleasure it gave her.
Clearly, it gave him pleasure, too, for she felt his erection press between their bodies, hardening against her outer thigh. She shivered as she slipped a hand down his chest, between their bodies to cup his cock. She stroked him from base to head a few times, loving the velvety hardness of his flesh. He let out a strangled groan at the touch and she reveled in the fact that he got harder for her. Because of her. He tensed at her touch, the vein in his neck pulsing as he let out a guttural moan of pure pleasure. Power surged within her and she shifted over him to straddle his hips. His cock rubbed her bel y, but she didn’t take him inside of her. Not yet. She kept him in hand, tormenting him with her fingers as she kept her gaze ful y locked on him.
He didn’t flinch away. If anything, his focus on her grew clearer every time she touched him, like he was giving her more and more of himself, freely and without hesitation. She was in awe of that ability to surrender. In awe and a little frightened. She did not want this connection she felt to him in that moment. She didn’t want the warmth in her body that had nothing to do with sex or pleasure, but with emotion.
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