by Shirl Anders
The story of events Gabriella told was considerably short for all the wealth of sordidness it contained, Drummond thought sometime later as he lay on the bed. Gabriella had simply cried herself to sleep, tightly embraced in his arms. It seemed that no amount of assurances on his part could completely wipe away the guilt that she wrongly harbored. All over events that had taken place twenty-five years before . . . nearly to this day.
Did Gabriella remember that, Drummond wondered gazing down at her, sprawled comfortably across his chest? Of course she did, he admonished himself angrily. What woman could neglect to remember being raped . . . no matter how long ago it had been? Still, he could barely fathom it. Gabriella had been raped these many years ago by her only other suitor at the time, Reginald. She had been ravished in her own bedchamber in the dead of night. She had screamed, but no one had come. Of course not! Reginald had, had the key.
Gabriella had not revealed that piece of information to him, he had heard Reginald say it. Then there was Gabriella’s father— that sick, sly, old bastard. Had he hated Drummond’s suit of his daughter that much? It appeared so. At the time Drummond had only been the second son to a duke, not as fine a prospect as Reginald, who was the first son of an earl.
Greed? Could it all have been for greed, Drummond wondered? Greed of power and of position. He did not know yet, but he would. He would know every detail before he was finished and perhaps then allow this crime to rest. Possibly and nearly certainly he would find things even Gabriella did not know about because he now shared the guilt completely, even though he had not known of it for twenty-five years.
However, that was the point, wasn’t it! How could he not have questioned Gabriella’s sudden changing of affections those many years ago? How could he not have been more positive of their love and fought harder as a man convinced of that love? Nay, Gabriella had nothing to feel guilty for!
Chapter Nineteen
Gabriella sighed happily. It had been nearly two weeks since she had confessed about the rape to Drummond and she need not have worried so, because these two weeks had become the happiest weeks of her life. At first she had been a bit surprised by Drummond’s reaction, because he had not again mentioned the betrayal, nor had he mentioned it in all the two weeks past. Which was glorious with her, for she was living completely in the moment with no uncomfortable past or uncertain future.
Oh heavens, and what glorious now’s they had been. She was discovering, much to her secret and unrepentant delight that she was utterly brazen. She could flirt and tease, demand intimacies passionately and seduce! Oh, and the places that Drummond insisted on carrying on their intimate liaisons. Why once in the kitchen, then the stables, another time in the gaming salon and once outside under an oak tree in the wide open . . . and last night! She grew flushed just remembering. She had been so bold, so hedonistic perhaps, and with Drummond’s encouragement, she had gotten down on her knees and suckled Drummond’s beautifully aroused cock. All in the carriage as they were returning from a trip to the local village!
The heady part was that she had been able to drive Drummond wild. It was one of the few times that she had been in complete control of Drummond’s passion. She adored it so much that she was already planning the next place to take him unaware. Mm, Gabriella mused, lost in thought as she strolled toward Drummond’s study. It would have to be anyplace but the bedroom. That was a must! Perhaps that oak tree-.
“What seductive mechanisms are you about, madame . . . hm?”
Ohno. Gabriella refocused her gaze to find herself standing by Drummond’s desk as he rose from behind it and walked toward her. She must have been lost in her daydreaming, Gabriella thought as she gazed up at Drummond and immediately read his intent.
“But the servants,” she protested. Someone had to be the least bit reasonable.
“Would never dare enter the room without knocking,” Drummond stated firmly. Then, he oddly stepped behind her when she was expecting him to face her and take her into his arms. He was right however, the servants would not enter even though it was only midmorning, but she did think to mention.
“The Archangels?” They had been coming and going from the manor at the oddest hours for the past two weeks.
“Shall not be present again until this weekend,” Drummond replied from behind her with a decidedly husky quality to his voice as Gabriella felt his hands grip her waist firmly. “Now if there are no further questions of propriety, my love.” Drummond’s warm breath fanned the nape of her neck from where she had piled her hair high on top of her head. “I believe that I owe you for your enthusiastic generosity last evening in the carriage.” Drummond’s tongue suddenly lapped the curve of her neck hotly, making her shiver in anticipation of the unknown.
“Bend over my desk, kitten, I want to lick,” he finished in a low purring murmur.
Ohmygod. “Drummond, what will you do?” Gabriella asked, already breathless and quivering as she bent over the end of Drummond’s desk, laying her cheek to the smooth wooden surface. Immediately, Gabriella felt Drummond raising her skirts, baring her bottom to his view because he allowed her to wear no linen drawers.
“Simply returning a gift, my love,” Drummond murmured, and Gabriella could hear him shifting behind her. “Spread your legs apart for me, Gabriella.”
“Oh, Drummond.”
“Wider.”
Gabriella did, feeling the cooler air caress her moist loins.
“That’s it, kitten.”
Gabriella nearly jumped out of her skin in anticipation when she felt Drummond’s hands clasp each of her thighs beneath the curve of her bottom. It was maddening, yet completely arousing to not be able to see what he was going to do next.
“Amour,” Gabriella squealed in surprise, coming up on her toes as Drummond’s warm tongue licked right through the cleft of her pussy from behind. Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Drummond held her firmly, lifting her thighs upward and out as he buried his head deeper!
Gabriella wiggled up on her toes as she clutched her fingers around the edge of the desk, flushing hot and feverish with passion, while Drummond bathed her bare clit with rapid flicks of his tongue. “Oh — oh, more,” Gabriella mewled ardently as Drummond bent his neck and nibbled the flushed lips of her pussy with his teeth. “Ah-ah.” Gabriella could not speak, she could not breathe. Drummond’s tongue pierced her swollen channel with a stiff thrust! “Oh, Drummo–nd!”
Two of Drummond’s finger pads circled her shuddering clit as he mated her with hot pokes of his tongue. Making her rock on her toes with sexy sounds gushing from her throat with each passionate jab. Then, he slowed, making her tremble and breathe harder, while she gyrated her bottom, back and forth in begging motions. “More, Drummond, more,” she begged him shamelessly.
“My god! Excuse me!” It was a man’s tenor exclamation behind them!
Gabriella squealed in shock and Drummond answered with a growling sound of anger.
“I never-never would have entered!” The man’s voice exclaimed.
“Samuel!” Drummond expelled in an exclamation of pure surprise and not a little bit of irritation.
“Ohmygod-mygod,” Gabriella cried, trying unsuccessfully to right herself from the desk. “It’s your son!” she finished with a feminine squeal of mortification.
Drummond finally shook free of his shock and thought to help Gabriella from her more than ignoble position as he rose swiftly, tugging her skirts down.
“I’m leaving,” Samuel choked, still from behind them.
“No!” Gabriella cried, clutching her hands to her face. “Oh God no!” she sobbed running past Samuel and out the doorway in a flurry of skirts and choked sobs.
“My God, father, I never ...” Samuel blurted, with his tanned face red with embarrassment as he looked at Drummond.
“You realize that I shall never seduce her into that position again, in another twenty-five years after this?” Drummond asked, wiping his mouth without a shred of remorse over the action or situation. Children an
d women, Drummond thought with aggravation as he strode over to shut the door, and then toward a hefty brandy.
“Aren’t you going to go after her?” Samuel asked.
Drummond waved his hand negatively as he poured his brandy. “Not until she is done crying, son.”
“Oh,” Samuel mumbled, shifting uncomfortably.
Mm, Drummond thought, Samuel never mumbles nor looks quite so vulnerable. Samuel was a strong and determined young man with a face and shape to match. Not many things disconcerted his son. Except perhaps, realizing in such a visual fashion that his father enjoyed sex . . . lavishly, Drummond mused, allowing his irritation over the situation to relax.
“Would you care for a brandy, son, before you explain your unexpected visit?”
Samuel finally unglued himself from his pose of appearing about ready to quit the room at any moment and rolled his broad shoulders walking toward the sideboard. “It is quite early, sir, but I believe this is one of those moments of undeniable need.” Samuel appeared, if anything grim as he accepted the brandy and downed the two fingers poured in one swallow, before he set the glass back on the sideboard, saying solemnly, “And, it seems that I have my first question answered.”
“Perhaps your second also,” Drummond mused as he walked behind his desk to sit. Now that he had a moment to contemplate, Drummond thought that he had a pretty fair idea of why Samuel might be here. It should prove interesting, to say the least, Drummond decided, settling back as Samuel took a seat in front of the desk.
“I imagine that I deserve this unfair advantage which I have cornered myself into,” Samuel said tightly, looking for all the world like he was the reproving patriarch, instead of sitting in front of said patriarch. “But really, your grace, now that I discovered all of these sordid rumors I have been hearing are true. I just cannot believe ...”
Samuel paused, leaning forward from his chair to pin Drummond with and intense look. Here it comes, Drummond thought, stiffening and not a little disappointed. “What on earth has taken you so long? Good god, father, you’ve lived like a monk these past twelve years since mother’s death. Unless the stories you’ve related to me about your spying ventures were not complete and I missed something?”
Drummond tilted his head to one side, rubbing his bottom lip with two fingers . . . really to hide his surprise. “No-no,” Drummond managed to say, while trying to recover beneath the enigmatic facade of his features. “I was most detailed to you in everything.”
Samuel, still looking quite serious, leaned over the edge of the desk, resting his elbows there. “I applaud you, sir, and back you one hundred percent. It is just that I realized, I could better negotiate the scandal brewing, if I, um – had more information. That and I thought I should tell you that Tabitha sends her love and support also. In fact, sir, she has suggested a ball.”
“You’re both so certain that I have been honorable in all of this?” Drummond asked quietly.
Samuel smiled then, an immoral grin, with his dark eyes a bit sardonic. “Honorable, of course, sir, however I believe I shall neglect to tell Tabby how, um– honorably you have been addressing the situation.”
“Scoundrel,” Drummond reproached as he took a sip of his brandy. “However, in light of your unfailing support, Samuel, and I must say here, how much your good wishes mean to me.” Drummond paused and leaned forward a bit, before he continued, “That I fully intend to marry Lady St. John when circumstances right themselves to allow me to do so.”
“Then, it is just as I told Tabby,” Samuel replied. “You have a plan.”
“I am in the midst of creating one, you can be sure,” Drummond replied sublimely.
Samuel chuckled. “Of course, father. Tabby and I always knew that Napoleon never stood a chance. And, I should tell you, up until now I have answered the rumors with a monumental amount of throwing your impeccable duke’s title about.”
“Mm,” Drummond murmured. “From this point forward I would ask that you rave, to anyone who will listen, the complete truth.” Drummond paused. “Such as we see it, of course.”
“Of course, father,” Samuel said expectantly.
“And our truth you will receive from Radford,” Drummond said.
“So you are treating this as a venture then?” Samuel asked.
“Exactly,” Drummond replied.
“I certainly would not wish to be this St. John then,” Samuel said. “The man does not stand a chance.”
“Nor should he,” Drummond replied ruthlessly, then he collected himself. “Nevertheless, tell Tabby that I believe a ball should be just the thing and tell her we shall hold it in London at Kittridge house.”
“It shall be done, father,” Samuel answered, then said a bit hesitantly for him. “Ah, do you think I should try and apologize to Lady St. John now or at some later date?”
“Later,” Drummond replied. Much-much later, he thought, wondering how he would right this situation. Ah, well he supposed he would just have to fall back on being imperious.
Chapter Twenty
Gabriella clutched her arms around herself, standing in the middle of Drummond’s bedchamber. She was utterly mortified. Tears, scalded her cheeks as she moved her head from side to side in denial. His son-his son kept pounding in her thoughts just as the words, mistress . . . tramp . . . unworthy kept slamming through her with each distraught breath.
“They were right!” she cried, running to the armoire with no more thought than to escape as she grabbed her mink cloak. Not thinking of anything else in her emotional state except that she could not be Drummond’s mistress, nor ever face his son again!
A long time later, while she sat shuddering in one of Drummond’s coaches, on the road halfway to London, she wondered how she had accomplished so much. How had she managed to escape undetected from Drummond’s manor? But, it was all a blur, the last hour or more. She had been so emotional, too emotional, but the pain of believing that she would not be allowed to spend her life loving Drummond, was akin to a mortal wound. It had unnerved her completely, made her hysterical and unthinking about anything but achieving her goal and that goal had been to escape.
So she had ordered a coach brought around saying that she wished to travel to the village and she had made certain that the hood of her mink wrap was pulled low to cover her tear-stained face. However, once at the village, she had imperiously ordered the driver to take her onto London. What could the driver do? He had to obey a lady of the realm. A guest of Drummond’s.
Lord Kittridge’s whore— Gabriella sniffled, wondering how she could have any tears left, then just as easily, she broke down crying again. When next she woke, having cried herself into literal exhaustion, it was near dark and the driver told her they were close to London, and then he asked where she wished to go.
“Take me to Lyndfall House on Mayfair,” Gabriella told the driver, then she settled back on the carriage seat clutching her mink cloak around her. She could not seem to stop shivering. What was she doing?
Gabriella leaned forward again and tapped the roof of the coach, until the driver opened the small trap top. “I have changed my mind driver, please take me to, um – Lord Kittridge’s residence here in London.” She paused, “Y-Yes– that is where I will go.”
Gabriella sat back after the driver closed the door, and she exclaimed, “Oh, what am I doing?” She clutched her hands over her cheeks and shook her head. She could not go to Lyndfall House, Reginald could be there and she could not go to Drummond’s because it was not proper and what if some of his family resided there. That thought horrified her as she imagined herself saying, “Oh yes, you must allow me to stay, I am simply Lord Kittridge’s mistress and he would wish it.”
But, where could she go, Gabriella wondered miserably and now that she was calmer, after being so emotionally hysterical for most of the day, she wondered if she really should have left Drummond in the first place?
“That is just your heart speaking,” she exclaimed, but of course it was, because
she loved him with all her heart. Perhaps she should try a hotel? Except it would be truly unspeakable for a lady alone and unchaperoned to do such a thing. Only that meant that she had no place at all to go, for it was too dangerous for a woman alone to try to return to Drummond’s estate at night. Oh why had she not stopped and thought! Why had she left Drummond at all?
Gabriella was so near to tears again that she had to mentally reproof herself. Tears and overly panicked emotions had gotten her into this mess to begin with. Being in love was just so emotional! Nay, having the only son of the man you love catch you ‘en flagrant delicto was-was. Oh, what Samuel must have seen-!
“No,” Gabriella exclaimed. “I will not proceed there again. I cannot bear it!” With determination, Gabriella brought herself around to her predicament and with shaky resolve she tapped the roof of the coach and said, “The Carlton Hotel, driver, take me to the Carlton Hotel.”
Gabriella sat back reasoning that her reputation was long past existence, so it no longer mattered where or with whom she resided and tomorrow she decided, she would send a messenger to Drummond. Drummond would then help her, even if she could no longer stay with him, she was certain that he would. Drummond was the only person who truly would help her if only she had realized this earlier.
It really was not as terrible as she envisioned, to acquire a room at the Carlton. She simply had Drummond’s driver procure it for her. He had been most kind, even concerned, saying that there was no way on God’s green earth he was leaving her and he would be ready with the carriage in the morning to take her wherever she wished to go. His name was Bebington and he did gently suggest that she ought to return to Lord Kittridge’s estate in the morning, where he proclaimed she would be much safer.
Bebington escorted her to her room, then he asked that she promise not to go anywhere without him. Gabriella did this faithfully before shutting the door to the room and locking it just as Bebington had shown her how to do. Once inside the room, Gabriella turned to explore because she had never been in a hotel room before. The fact was in twenty-five years of marriage, she had never been to anyplace but the townhouse in London on occasion, very few occasions, and the country estate at Lyndfall.