***
He appeared to her in the darkest hours, his warm lips murmuring against her skin. “You did not come to me.”
“I couldn’t. It would not have been decent,” she whispered.
His wicked mouth trailed over her neck, her breasts. “Then will you turn me away?” His gaze was hypnotic, a flickering blue flame.
“You know I cannot,” she answered, opening her arms to him, welcoming the only cure for the ceaseless ache.
He peeled back her night rail, giving his hot tongue access to the valley between her breasts. “It was torture thinking of you in bed alone and wanting, no, needing the feel of your body beneath mine, engulfing myself in you as your sweet passage sheaths my cock. I thought I would go mad.”
Diana thought she would also if he didn’t take her into his mouth. Now. With her fingers clenched in his silky hair, she urged him to a swollen nipple. Yet the sultry heat of his mouth only stoked the flames and made her burn all the hotter. She arched into him, craving the abrasive feel of his flesh against her own. His hands found her gown. One fierce jerk rent the offending garment, freeing her bounty for his full ministration. He feasted on her lush mounds as if he were ravenous, kissing, biting, laving until she writhed beneath him in desperate need. “Kiss me, Ludovic,” she cried.
He took her mouth with slow deliberation, their hot breaths mingling, and tongues tangling, stroking, and sucking in mimicry of sex. The pungent scent of her own desire permeated her senses, feeding the hunger. She explored his body with her hands, clutching his head, his shoulders, his taut buttocks, reveling in the masculine texture, the solid feel of him. The throbbing in her belly intensified. Her passage clenched, and her damp thighs trembled as he parted her nether lips and stroked a finger through her wetness.
She reached for his erection, craving the paradoxical velvety hard feel of it. “Please, Ludovic. I want you,” she moaned.
“How?” he asked. “Tell me how you want me.”
She answered in a voice that was strangely thick. “I want you in my hands. In my mouth. In my sex.”
***
His heart slammed against his chest. She had answered his most decadent wishes aloud, and the words flooded him with a dark and delicious desire that caused his lustful fever to spike another hundred degrees. He emitted a husky laugh. “You are a greedy one. But how could I ever deny you that which I also yearn for?”
He wanted to fill her in every possible way and be overwhelmed by the sights, scents, and sounds of simultaneous pleasure. He withdrew his hand from between her thighs and stroked the same damp finger over her mouth, watching in fascination as her tongue darted out to taste her own salty essence. He licked away the rest and kissed her again, slow and deep. “The taste of your arousal is the sweetest nectar to me. It fills me with the urge to pound my cock into you and never stop.”
He skated down over her breasts, capturing a nipple, hard and pink, pulling it between his lips and then suckling. He guided her onto her side, exploring her hips and belly with his hands and mouth. He repositioned himself, as well, to face the foot of the bed feet, and moved in a worshipful caress down her body until reaching her mons. Shifting also to his side, he wrapped her thighs over his shoulders and directed her head to his straining cock. “Now,” he said, his tongue thick with excitement and expectancy. “I’m going to love you with my mouth and drink in the proof of your passion even as you swallow my own.”
Shuddering at the sublime sensation of her lips enfolding him, he dipped his head into her mound, giving a long, lascivious stroke, parting her dewy folds with his tongue, licking and lapping her juices while she teased and suckled the head of his cock. He blazed a trail with his tongue to the tight slit of her sheath, following with his fingers. He plunged them into her, and she bucked wildly against his mouth while he worked the sensitive bud of her clit.
He wished he could immerse himself in her like this forever, but their time was too bloody short. There was only one answer to what faced them on the morrow, but he forced it from his mind, refusing to think of anything beyond the mindless ecstasy of mutual gratification and the explosive release already tightening his bollocks. Her wetness, her taste, her sounds of pleasure muffled by his cock in her mouth combined with the slick friction and sultry, sucking sounds was insanely erotic and sublime. With her first racking shudders came a powerful, vibrating moan from her mouth through his shaft…and he was lost.
***
Diana heard Polly enter her bedchamber with a clatter of metal—her customary pot of chocolate on a silver tray, and Diana’s stomach roiled. She opened her eyes, momentarily disoriented to time and place. They felt bleary and heavy-lidded and her body unusually lethargic.
Laudanum. She never should have taken it.
The dreams. The things she had envisaged—so vivid. So wicked.
Polly pulled back the bed curtains and regarded her, mouth agape. “Your night rail, my lady! What happened?” She retrieved the shredded cotton gown from the floor, and Diana felt heat steal into her cheeks. It couldn’t have been real. It was only a dream. She must have torn it herself. “It must have been the laudanum,” she said. “It causes such terrifying dreams. I thought I was being strangled!” She latched onto the nearest thing to the truth.
“My poor lady,” the maid cried. “Anyone would be afeared after all what’s passed with Johnson and Lord Reggie. But mayhap it was the pearls what made you feel strangled?”
“My pearls?” Diana’s hand flew to her throat and felt the warm, smooth strands. Dear God! It wasn’t a dream! He had come to her in the night, and she had welcomed him into her bed like some wanton whore.
“You found them at last, my lady? Peculiar you should have worn them to bed.”
“I found them last night,” she lied once more. “I feared losing them again. After all, they are the only jewels I have left. Forgive me, Polly, I am much distracted and have not been myself since before yesterday.”
“’Tis no wonder! It has, indeed, been a nightmare. I only wish t’were over milady, but Sir John Gooding has need to speak wi’ ye. He asked if you was settled right enough to answer some questions.”
“Yes, Polly. Pray convey that I will speak with him.”
“Aye, my lady.”
“Now if you will only help me to dress, we can hope to bring this all to a swift conclusion. My only wish is to return ho—” The words froze in her throat when she realized she no longer knew where home was.
***
“You have my heartfelt condolences, Baroness. Such a damnable end.” Sir John shook his head and then flushed in embarrassed realization of his double entendre. He cleared his throat and continued. “Pray accept my pardon in advance for the indelicacy of this inquest, but there are a number of unanswered questions before we can confidently lay the matter to rest.” He helped himself to a glass of port. “I shall try to make this entire ordeal as easy on you as possible.”
Diana clutched her handkerchief, but her eyes were remarkably dry. Her entire being felt arid and devoid of emotion. She had expected to feel something once the initial shock wore off, but the only feeling she could summon was relief, a sentiment entirely inappropriate to the occasion. She cast her gaze about the gilded library, noting Edward and Dr. Stone. DeVere was present as well and the Duchess of Beauclerc, but she carefully avoided any eye contact with either.
Diana still didn’t know what to think or feel about DeVere after the duchess had sown her poisonous seeds last night. Deciding it her best course, Diana kept her eyes downcast and her handkerchief at the ready, a convincing prop, although the trembling hands that held it were no act at all. She was thankful for the glass of fortified wine and sympathetic hand squeeze from Annalee.
“When did you last see your husband, Lord Reginald?” Sir John asked.
“It was late yesterday morning just before the start of the first race. When his horse did not appear on the field, he went to the stables to inquire of his jockey.”
Sir
John consulted his scribbled notes. “And that would be Johnson? The man who was found with Lord Reginald?”
“Yes. That is my understanding—that they were found together.”
“And this Johnson. What do we know of him? How long was he in your husband’s employ?”
Diana licked her lips, concentrating on the fine detail of her lace handkerchief. “Since before we were wed. Jemmy was a lad of fifteen or sixteen when he came to Palmerston Hall with Reggie.” Reggie had been both generous and oddly protective of Jemmy from the start. She now realized just how naïve she had been regarding her husband’s relationship with the young groom.
“Was your groom, Johnson, fond of drink?”
“I could not say, my lord. I never saw him intoxicated.”
“Do you think it possible Johnson may have had too much to drink the morning of the race?”
“I could not say.”
“Yet the groom did not show for the race. Is it possible in your mind that Lord Reginald could have beaten his groom?”
Diana reflected a long moment. “I would not think it likely at all, Sir John. Reggie was of a cold and calculating nature, not a man prone to fits of violence.”
“Yet, he was reputed a compulsive gamester.”
“Yes. I cannot dispute his gaming habits.”
“Had he accumulated considerable debts?”
She bit her lip and finally stole a sidelong look at DeVere who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “I am unaware of the full extent of his debts,” she said.
“Yet he had placed great hopes on the horse race.”
“As had I,” she said wryly.
“Is there anything more that you know, Baroness? Anything at all that might help to explain the events surrounding your husband’s death?”
It was literally the moment of truth. Diana’s heart pounded against her breastbone in rhythm with the pendulum clock. Her gaze darted between the Duchess and DeVere. The Duchess eyed her intently, her lips parted as if to speak. Only they knew the whole of it, or as much as could be known.
The time had arrived to speak up and come clean—about the extent of their financial devastation, of the unnatural relationship between Reggie and Johnson and their plans to elope together, and the planned blackmail of DeVere. But it was all too sordid. Too much to bear. Besides, wasn’t it irrelevant now? Reggie was dead. Her shame-filled life was over. It was a chance for a new beginning. A new life, one she refused to enter under the shadow of such a scandal.
“No. I can think of nothing.” She closed her mouth with a prayer that Caroline would also maintain her peace.
Sir John scratched his head, setting his wig askew. “Then I conclude that we have an accident involving a drunken groom who was discovered by his employer, Lord Reginald, after his horse failed to appear. My lord assaulted the jockey, beating him about the head with the pistol, whereby during the struggle, the weapon went off upon himself—a simple matter of death by misadventure. Unless anyone here has information to refute this, I deem that there is nothing further to pursue.”
“Sir John,” the Duchess interjected. “Since I am sadly ignorant of legal proceedings, what would transpire should any evidence of foul play later come to light?”
“You mean should the groom recover sufficiently to identify another assailant?”
“Yes. Or anything else that might later suggest a motive for violence against the deceased. Just out of curiosity, of course.” Diana noticed the dark looks exchanged between the Duchess and DeVere.
“As there is no statute of limitations pertaining to violent crime, an investigation would, of course, be opened by the proper authorities. As Justice of the Peace, it is only within my domain to determine if additional inquiry is warranted. At this juncture, there is not.”
Diana asked, “Does this mean…”
“That these proceedings are concluded?” Sir John answered. “I only have need of your signature on a statement, my lady, and then you are free to attend to your personal affairs.”
“I’ll conduct you both to my private study,” said DeVere.
***
“A brief word with you, my lord?” Diana asked DeVere after her business was finished with Sir John.
“But of course,” he answered and rang for a footman to conduct Sir John out.
“What did you mean by coming to my room last night?” She raged after the door had closed. “It was deplorable and unscrupulous to take such advantage of me!”
DeVere lifted a bland brow. “I do not recall any complaint last night.”
“Because I was drugged by laudanum and not in my right senses!” she cried. “And what do you mean by this?” she asked, retrieving from her pocket the document, now crumpled, that he had left under her pillow. “You give me a lease to my own house?”
She appeared both incredulous and infuriated. It was precisely the reaction he had sought to achieve, but it gave him little satisfaction. Ludovic found it a struggle to maintain his impassive facade and blithe tone.
“For obvious reasons, I am unable to convey upon you the title to the estate. Yet this ninety-nine year lease ensures your future security with continued and uninterrupted residence at Palmerston Hall at the negligible sum of one pound per annum. The execution needs only your signature.” With a gesture, he indicated the quill and ink awaiting her on the blotter.
“What of the stables, the horses?” she asked.
He laughed. “I fear my largesse does not extend as far as the horseflesh, as that was what I sought to begin with.”
“It was only for the horses?”
He inclined his head. Best to let her believe that rather than the truth—that he had bought the debt rather than allow her life to be destroyed by her wastrel husband. “You may keep your mare, of course, but all the others will join my stables.”
“I don’t understand. Why do you do this?” she asked, indicating the document.
“Is it not obvious? It is customary to provide former mistresses with a parting gift. While it is usually in the form of diamonds or emeralds, I thought this gesture would be more welcome in your straightened circumstances. I have also spoken at length with Lord Derby who has agreed to dispense with half of the prize money. Thus, you shall also have a comfortable nest egg of fifteen hundred pounds.”
Diana gaped. “P-parting gift?”
He brought her hand to his lips for a lingering kiss. “It was lovely while it lasted, my dear Diana, but my attention is sadly difficult to maintain for any duration. Ennui, you understand. It is a curse, really, as I am continually compelled to seek out new diversions…new companions.”
She blinked. Her lower lip quivered. “Then that is all this was to you? A brief diversion?”
“Don’t take it to heart, pet. Passion like we’ve shared never lasts. In my experience amorous idylls are best ended before the bloom is fallen from the rose and only thorns remain.”
“I see,” said Diana stiffly.
No. She only saw what he allowed her to see.
She picked up the document. “You flatter me with your generosity, my lord. I understand even the most exclusive courtesans may be had for one hundred per night. It seems in only two nights, I have warranted over four thousand.”
If she’d wielded a rapier, it would not have cut deeper. “Don’t sully what we had, Diana,” he growled.
“It is not I, but you who have done so, my lord. By your offer, you have made me your whore, but then again, a woman in my position would be a fool to refuse. And I am no fool.”
He could see the struggle for composure in her trembling hand and the splattered drops of ink as she scrawled a hasty signature. “I shall order my bags packed immediately,” she said. “The sooner I depart the better.”
“Perhaps that’s for the best, but you need not be anxious about crossing my path again, as I leave for London within the hour. Edward and Annalee will depart soon thereafter. You will accompany them back to your home where no doubt, given time,
all will return to a state of normalcy.”
“Yes,” she said hollowly. “No doubt it will.” She turned for the door in an abrupt rustle of petticoats, but her hand paused on the knob. “There is something I must know.” Her back was still turned to him. “Did you do it? Did you kill Reggie?”
“Were you anyone else, I would not even dignify that with an answer.” His temper flared white-hot, but by holding himself in tight check, he managed to respond. “Did I have motive to kill him? Perhaps. Did I have desire to do so? Undoubtedly, on several occasions. I only needed to look upon him to feel the urge. But were I to kill a man, Diana, it would never be in a clandestine manner. I would look him in the eye as the last breath left his body, and he would know it was me who pulled the trigger or impaled him upon my sword.”
“But what of your own father?” she asked.
“My father is both alive and well cared for, and that is all you or anyone else need know,” he said, nearly gnashing his teeth.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that the duchess…”
“Caroline is a meddlesome bitch!”
“Thank you for answering,” she said. “It was impertinent on my part.” With quiet dignity, Diana departed from his study and from his life without looking back.
After the door clicked softly behind her, Ludovic smashed his fist on the desk, clearing it of all its contents, splattering ink pots and scattering papers in an enraged swipe. For two brief nights, he had known solace, the peace his soul desperately sought, and now it was gone. Gone with her. “Bloody hell! Goddamn bloody hell!”
And the sooner he too departed from this accursed place, the better. He poured a drink and downed it in one angry draught before calling for his horse.
***
Diana’s departure from Woodcote Park was much as she recalled her arrival less than a sennight ago with she and Annalee sharing the coach and Sir Edward mounted with the outriders. She once more gazed sightlessly out the windows, lost in melancholy reflection.
Seven Nights of Sin: Seven Sensuous Stories by Bestselling Historical Romance Authors Page 64