Lust

by Charlotte Featherstone

  “Yes, yes,” her father muttered, “I daren’t say otherwise.”

  “Papa, what do you mean?” Chastity asked. She was alarmed by her father’s nervous behavior.

  “Nothing,” he grumbled. Suddenly he smoothed his hand down his brocade waistcoat, his long fingers lingering over the pocket. “I have a meeting tonight, m’dear. Business, I’m afraid. We will discuss this matter later. When my head is clear.”

  Rising from her chair, their mother nodded. “Of course. Come along, girls. Your father wishes to be alone, I think.”

  Lennox watched his family saunter out of the salon before he allowed himself to collapse onto a chair. Christ above. What had he done? Making deals with both faery courts? Had he truly believed that he would get away with it?

  Damn it, what was to be done? The Seelie wanted his daughters, and now it seemed so, too, did the Dark Fey.

  Palming the pocket of his vest, Lennox felt the folded missive. He was to meet with the Dark Fey that evening at, of all damn places, the Nymph and the Satyr. It was time to pay the tithe, the summons said. But he couldn’t. That particular prize had already been given to the Seelie.

  But who posed the greatest threat? he wondered. The Dark Fey or the Seelie? That answer, he would find out tonight. And God help his daughters, he thought, if they were to become the concubines of the Unseelie Court.

  Rising from the chair, he strolled to the window and watched as the two Seelie Fey rode their elegant mounts out of the courtyard. The air seemed to still crackle with the remnants of their magical presence. He had felt that energy before, when the queen had come upon him that fateful night in the nursery.

  Damn it, what was he to do? He was to meet with the queen in the morning. He knew what she would say. What she would want from him. And he knew the consequences of denying her. His clandestine transaction with her had miraculously been kept a secret. Robert’s slow recovery from his deformity had been met with scientific marvel, not skepticism or suspicion. His wife had been so overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude that she had not asked how such a miracle came to be. No one knew. Only he and the faery queen.

  But if his secret was found out, it would be bloody disastrous. He would lose everything. His position in society, his fortune, his friends. And possibly even his wife. Not to mention his son, whose handsome face and fine body would be reduced to a withered cripple. And his daughters…he wasn’t man enough at the moment to think of them. He’d been selfish in his desires and now his girls would pay the price.

  Contemplating all he had to lose, Lennox knew instinctively who the greatest threat was. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled the missive free and tore it up.

  He would ignore it, he decided. Let the Unseelie come to him if they wanted their tithe so badly.

  The Unseelie were here. Crom had smelled them, the spicy notes of male Unseelie flesh. It had covered Chastity’s wrist. As he looked into her eyes, he’d seen nothing but wariness. She didn’t know of the Dark Fey, or realize that she had come into contact with one—close contact, he reminded himself.

  “You are thinking?” Arawn said as he reached for the reins of his mount. “Your frown tells me that you don’t like something.”

  Crom swiftly mounted his stallion. “Did you sense something in the house?”

  “No, why?”

  “I smelled the Dark Fey.”

  “Impossible, you warded the house yourself. There is no possible way that our enemies could have broken through your protection spells.”

  “Nevertheless, I sensed their presence. Ensure you keep your eyes open,” he commanded the footman, who was a Seelie from his court. “And keep His Grace’s daughters in your sight. I don’t like this. The Unseelie are more powerful than we thought. Our magic might very well be an even match.”

  “If that is the case, then we must move swiftly.”

  “Indeed.” Nudging his horse forward, Crom cantered down the drive. “I will not have my plans to rule the Seelie Court thwarted by my twin and his cursed brethren.”

  The warm water trickled over her back. With a sigh, Chastity lowered her head to her bent knees and allowed her maid to gently scrub her back.

  “How was your day of shopping, miss?” Annie asked.

  Chastity moaned as Annie washed along her spine. She was particularly sensitive there. “Too hard?” her maid asked.

  “No, it feels so delightful.”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Annie nod, then reach for the soap. Lathering up the cloth, Annie proceeded to wash her back once more.

  “Tell me of your day, miss. You’ve not been out of Glastonbury. How our little town must pale when compared to London. What sights you must have come across.”

  “Next time I shall take you with me,” Chastity murmured. “I daresay you will find it most amusing. I never dreamed there were so many stores in London.”

  “Lady Mary certainly seemed to enjoy herself. The footmen were stumbling up the stairs while trying to carrying her boxes.”

  “Hmm, restraint has never been my sister’s forte,” Chastity said wryly, while thinking of the numerous boxes Mary had packed into their carriage. Of course, Prue had allowed herself one indulgence. A book. A novel, of all things. Prue was nothing if not practical, and the new fashion for novels with romance and passion in them was the furthest thing from sensible.

  No wonder her sister had tried to hide it from them. But Mary had pulled it out of Prue’s reticule, and had teased her mercilessly about it after they had left their father in the salon.

  “That lovely perfume bottle was your only purchase, miss?”

  Chastity raised her head and glanced at the dressing table. The atomizer looked stunning on the mirrored tray that held her other perfumes. But nothing she owned was as beautiful and ornate as the bottle she had been given that very morning.

  “Yes,” she whispered, watching as the glow from the hearth flickered along the delicate crystal, making it radiant in the softly shadowed room.

  Since placing it on her dressing table, she had not been able to keep her gaze from straying to it. It was so beautiful, how could one not stare at it? But Chastity had a feeling that it was not only the gems that encrusted it that caught her fancy, but that it had been given to her by a man. It was her little secret, and she clutched the fact to her breast.

  She knew she would think of the man who had gifted her with it as she daubed the perfume onto her skin. He’d vowed to leave her in peace, to cease his attentions, and thus put a halt to her inappropriate dreams. She had felt relief then, but now she felt bereft, morose at the thought of not seeing him again, or speaking with him.

  For a paragon of chasteness, she certainly was acting the part of the wanton.

  “Now then, shall we wash your hair tonight, miss?”

  Annie’s voice pulled her thoughts to the present. “Thank you, no. I am tired tonight. I’d like to retire early, I think.”

  “Very good, my lady.”

  Unwrapping a long bathing sheet, Annie held it out to her. Rising from the water, Chastity stepped from the copper tub and wrapped the sheeting around her. Instantly, the soft linen molded to her damp body. She saw in the full-length looking glass the outline of her breasts and belly as the linen absorbed the bathwater. Her breasts were full and heavy, the nipples pebbled. But not from the cold, but rather the thought of appearing like this before Thane.

  Would he approve of her form? Chastity had always thought her body possessed a vulgar display of sensual curves. Her breasts were far too large, and her hips too full and rounded. Hers was a body belonging to a harlot, not a virtue.

  A faint flush covered her throat and neck as she studied her reflection in the looking glass. If she had any sort of decency and modesty, she would cease staring at her almost-naked form. Yet she could not look away. She had never truly gazed upon her nakedness. Had always been too ashamed of the voluptuousness of it, of how it seemed to beckon men and their leers. She had never taken pleasure in her shape.


  With a flush, Chastity glanced away from the image she saw. A true paragon would not have studied herself. A true innocent would not have wondered what it would be like to stand naked before this very mirror and imagine what it would be like to watch a man’s hand caressing her body, discovering her, as she had never allowed herself to do.

  “Miss?”

  Shaking away the fantasy, Chastity turned away from the mirror. “That will be all for tonight. Thank you, Annie.”

  With a polite bob, Annie cleared out the bath things. “I shall send the footmen up in half an hour to remove the tub, miss.”

  “That will be fine,” she answered as she made her way to the bed, where Annie had laid out her new night rail and wrapper. Mama had purchased it for her, and Chastity found herself eager to get into it. Never had she seen so many layers of satin and lace ruffles. The gown resembled the illustrations in books about faery tales. She was going to be the faery princess in this gown.

  The thought struck her odd, and she smiled as she dropped the sheeting to the floor and slipped into the night rail. Not a faery-tale princess, but a fey princess, she thought, amazed how natural it sounded. Almost as if it were an everyday occurrence to believe in faeries. Instinctively, she had always known that her future lay with the fey. She did not understand how she could realize such a fact, let alone accept it. But she did.

  And that had been the reason she had told Thane that she was promised to another. In her heart, she knew she was. Her path lay with the fey.

  Most women her age would be horrified by the prospect of believing that the fey existed, but Chastity had been raised knowing that the faeries had come to her father. It was a secret that she and her sisters had kept with him. They were not to tell Mama. Why he had told them, Chastity could never understand, but he had trusted them with his secret. Perhaps he thought that if they believed in the faeries, if they knew that at some point in their lives the fey might come for them, they would be less shocked, less frightened.

  And perhaps he was right. Because Chastity had known the minute that Crom and Arawn had entered their salon that they were not mere mortal men. They were fey. Beautiful, golden faeries.

  That was the reason for Papa’s restlessness, his barely concealed anxiousness. Mama had sensed it, but she had interpreted it as a natural inclination for a man to protect his daughters from men who would court them. But she and Prue knew differently.

  “May I come in?”

  Chastity was slipping into her robe when Prudence peeked around her chamber door. “Yes. I’m finished with my bath.”

  Prudence flew into the room, wearing a similar gown and wrapper. They smiled when they saw each other.

  “Well, Mama did always enjoy dressing the four of us alike.”

  “Yes, well, I thought that stopped when we turned sixteen,” Chastity said with a laugh.

  “I suppose she thinks this is her last opportunity.”

  Chastity saw the twinkling in Prue’s eye swiftly fade. “What is it, Prue?”

  “I’m afraid, Chastity. Father has not said anything, but you and I both know that Crom and Arawn are not mere gentlemen.”

  Nodding, Chastity motioned to the bed, where they sat down upon the sage cream-silk counterpane. “My feelings have not changed from this afternoon when we spoke. I still believe that they are fey.”

  “And we’re to…marry them?” Prudence asked with a gulp.

  “I truly have no idea. But why would they call and ask to take us driving if not to court us?”

  “What do you think they truly want with us? I mean, aren’t there faery women to marry?”

  Shrugging, Chastity picked at the crème satin ribbon that ran through the lace cuff of her sleeve. “I do not know. All I know is that we must speak to Father. We must learn more about what they want with us.”

  Prudence made a scoffing noise. “He won’t talk of it. I’m certain. I attempted to this evening, after supper, but he flatly ignored me and shut himself in his study. I don’t like this, Chastity. Something feels wrong.”

  “Are you only just beginning to realize that?” she asked, shocked by her sister’s naiveté. “I have always thought our lives rather strange. Think on it, Prue. Four girls conceived simultaneously? A visit from the faery queen who foretells of four daughters who will possess virtues? For what purpose are we paragons? Humanity? Or fey?”

  Prudence glanced away. “I’ve tried not to think of such things, to be truthful. I tried to believe that Papa only told us stories about the queen’s visit to make us smile. I pretended that he liked to think of us as special, so he told us fantastical tales about our importance—and the faeries.”

  “I wish I could have consoled myself with those thoughts, but I have only come to dread the truth of what our future holds. I believe, Prudence, that the faery queen will come and take us. That we are, in essence, her creation.”

  “How can that be?” Prue cried. “It’s not possible.”

  “What is impossible where the fey are concerned?”

  A sense of defeat stole over her sister, and Chastity watched as Prue’s shoulders sagged. “I’m afraid, Chastity, because I fear that I rather liked Arawn. I am afraid that my attraction still stands if he be man or faery.”

  Chastity clutched Prue’s cold, trembling fingers in her hands. “You don’t have to apologize for your feelings.”

  Prue shook her head and smiled sadly. “The first time I feel attraction, and the slightest bit of liberty with a man, and he turns out to be a fantastical, magical creature.”

  “It does sound rather odd, doesn’t it?” Chastity laughed.

  “But have we not always been considered odd?”

  “Indeed we have.”

  “And you?” Prue asked. “How did you feel about the one named Crom? Mary has not ceased prattling about him. Even Mercy became a bit short with her this evening for carrying on in such a way. You can only remark upon a man’s beauty for so long before it becomes tedious.”

  Glancing down at their entwined fingers, Chastity strove to find the right answer. Yes, Crom was hand some and refined. He was very gentlemanlike. But he did not make her blood quicken in the same way it had that morning, when Thane had looked at her, or when she remembered the stranger in the maze. Those memories made her blood boil and the space between her thighs hot and sticky.

  “He is very handsome,” she began, “but…I do not know…”

  “I understand,” Prudence murmured, now consoling her. “It is very difficult to let go of what we are in order to be courted. It goes against everything we are. Who we are.”

  Yes. Except it had been all too easy to forget who and what she was when she had been with Thane.

  Why, dear God, did every thought and feeling come back to him?

  Because you’re mine.

  She heard the words in a whisper and glanced to the perfume bottle. Its beauty enthralled her and its contents lured her as if it contained a magic enchantment. There was no denying that she could not resist peeking at the bottle that sat atop her dressing table.

  “Perhaps all will seem much clearer in the morning,” Prue suggested as she rose from the bed. “Sleep tight, and pleasant dreams.”

  “Prue,” she called after her sister. “What if…that is to say, what if we don’t have a choice about who we are to wed?”

  Prudence tilted her head and studied her. “Papa won’t force us to marry someone we do not want to.”

  “What if he has no choice,” she whispered, giving voice to her fears. “That is the way of the fey. Gifts come with conditions, and sometimes, faery gifts can be more curse than reward.”

  “What are you saying?”

  She didn’t know, really. She just knew that inside she was confused. All her life she had lived as a paragon. Not only was she chaste and completely innocent, she was obedient, she never questioned, never rebelled. But now a seed of discontent was growing inside her. She hadn’t been able to put Thane out of her mind, nor had she gi
ven a proper thought to Crom, other than to wish him away.

  In her heart, she could not be happy with Crom. Her body, she knew, had already given itself away to the touch of another man.

  “Chastity,” Prudence asked quietly, “do you fear the marriage bed, is that it?”

  “Yes,” she admitted, but more important, she feared what it would make of her. She knew no other form of herself beyond her chasteness. Who would she be when she was no longer virginal?

  “One can still be pure and innocent, sister,” Prue murmured, “even after one has lain with one’s husband.”

  Nodding, Chastity knew her sister was right. But could one still be innocent after experiencing the pleasures of the flesh that were more…ribald? Would she still be chaste if she were a willing participant in such pleasures? She didn’t believe so. To remain a paragon—the only thing she had ever known—was to bear the attentions of her future husband. To allow him to copulate with her. She would provide no hysterics. No crying or pleading. She would lay beneath him and tolerate his attentions. It was for the begetting of children. It was not sinful then. It was only sinful when the actions between two people were wild and wanton. For pleasure instead of purpose.

  Duty. It would be her responsibility to procreate, and to raise chaste, virtuous daughters and strong, noble sons.

  “You’re thinking too much,” Prue admonished. “You’re frowning and you’ll get terrible lines around your mouth and eyes if you continue this way.”

  Smiling weakly, Chastity chased her thoughts away. “Thank you for the talk, Prue.”

  “I’ll see you on the morrow. Sleep well.”

  Now, alone in her room, Chastity made her way to her dressing table. She needed comfort. The only thing that truly did soothe her. Reaching for the bottle, she pulled the stopper free and inhaled the seductive perfume. This was her forbidden desire. The only indulgence she allowed herself.

  Slowly, she trailed the crystal tip from down her neck, savoring the cool glide of the perfumed droplet.

  Yes, put me all over you.