Charmer. He was all that and more, Nia thought. Somehow, she needed to regain her footing. If only his mere masculine aura were not swamping her so deeply. What would an authentic lady do in a situation like this, she wondered, then she nearly laughed outright? A truly proper English lady would never find herself in a situation such as this. Blimey, they would swoon if even too much of one of their ankles might be revealed to a gentleman.
Nia worried her front teeth over her fuller bottom lip. What she was doing was so blatant, and she knew that Radford had to be wondering about the same thing. She wondered at the sanity of Lord Benny for instructing this amorous adventure at the same time he directed her to portray herself a lady of the realm. Yet suddenly, she thought that perhaps acting like a helpless and befuddled lady might be the key to holding her disguised roll intact. She was grasping at straws, however she certainly felt befuddled and at the same time embarrassingly aroused.
"Y-You have me at a disadvantage, your grace." Nia forced a catch of demureness into her voice, trying to ignore the stimulated and achy tips of her nipples, where her hands clutched their fullness.
"Radford," his voice insisted lowly. "Now you will play the shrinking demoiselle, captured by the noble male, forcing you thrillingly perhaps against your will? You are on the first sense an intriguing variety of contrasts, none of which promises honest revelation."
"Or just the breath of your nearness, noble swine, consumes my reasoned senses. The thrill of unknown chances lay bare upon my breasts, caressing mindless rapture of wet confusions," she whispered. She startled at the feel of Radford's cheek brushing a soft-whiskered rasp against her cheek.
"A poetess?" his voice murmured a base tone of surprise. "And a bawdy one of course."
"It is not bawdy, yet erotic!"
Nia realized too late that she defended herself too quick, too openly, and too vocally. Her unchecked vehemence brought her stubborn chin aloft and suddenly her lips were sealed beneath Radford's mouth. That first sparkling and astonishing touch, ignited instantly between them. Radford's with a gruff sound in his throat that vibrated heat over her lips, while she whimpered an instant aroused response. Wildly, their mouths hummed against each other delving and exploring, and then Radford's hand was pressed to the back of her head bearing her kissing lips deeper beneath his mouth.
Chapter Five
The first rule of a fille de joie: never let them kiss you. A woman's heart was in her lips. Overcome, Nia flowed into Radford's body with the tips of her sensitive nipples scraping against his linen shirt. She gasped rawly into his mouth, feeling the twin bites of rapture, before her breasts were braced fully upon the unbending sinew of his chest. His lips and the heat of his mouth coursing over her mouth were irresistible. The texture and the firmness of his lips, coupled with the sensually exacting movements of his mouth, spun passion into her senses.
Then, he churned a deep and driving male sound in his chest that if put into words would say, "Now more. Now more until I consume you." His tongue lashed into the recesses of her mouth. Her eager moan answered his tongue, slipping along the surface of her tongue, and she was lost. She was wholly lost with only a passionate kissing of their tongues.
Vixen! Minx! Passion! Radford understood that it was only by the smallest of degrees that he held his igniting arousal in check, when all that his hard and throbbing prick wanted was wet pussy. Vanilla cream. Vanilla cunt lips. Judas, all he could smell were vapors of aroused vanilla woman.
He had never intended to advance so far. Only one kiss to set the Lady Minx back on her delicate heels as a warning that he was not a man to be trifled with. Who was Nia? What was Nia? Nothing connected in his mind except the shivery gossamer throbs of her tongue as he suckled it with ever slower motions deeper into his mouth. Tenaciously, he slowed their urgent and wild pace with a sensuality that he had forever deeply craved, yet not until this moment had he found an allure worthy of bringing it to the surface. He had never found passions fiery and uninhibited enough to tantalize and quicken him this way.
He could feel the willowy ripeness of Nia's body pressed eagerly against him. The ardent minx undulated her belly over the bulge of his stiff and responding cock. Her manner was not that of a shallow and innocent virgin, but more the full-bodied answer of known pleasure and where those sexual pleasures came from.
Suddenly, he had to know, and it was a catalyst of illogic in his cunningly forced and logical world. He should step away, yet even as he thought this, his free hand stroked down Nia's satin fleshed hip. He still held his riding gloves in that hand and some devilment in his mind assured him that it was a more acceptable way of keeping his entire hand from touching. But not so his fingertips, which were tracing flowing feminine curves in the dark, like a blind man admiring the lush lines of a sculpture. Because what he was being urged beyond reason to attempt was forbidden, without class, and strictly speaking, it was dishonorable.
Not that he was ever particularly honorable in the rituals of seducing women. More aloof. He bedded whores quickly, strictly making certain they were pleased, yet he was always gone within an hour. He could flirt, however he rarely did, and he never tried to seduce or bed noblewomen. Not out of honor, but out of apathy. No women of his acquaintance, thus far, had stirred to life the sensuality within him that lay waiting.
"Oh mm, no. You should not," Nia gasped against his lips, just as his glove and fingertips found the electrifying bareness at the top of her perfect mound.
He was staggered in lust at the discovery of the complete bareness of her ripe pussy, as even his cock bucked beneath his riding britches. "Run, if you will." His voice was a restrained growl. He held the lady by nothing but his lips hovering over her lips and his fingertip just barely dipping into the top crease of her heated pussy. Her answering whimper of desire at his intimate petting immediately brought his lips crashing down over her mouth once more.
Bared, tender, sweet, and wet. He could not stop now if he chose to and the lust of his mind conjured ill-gained, wicked, and lusty reasons not to. Yet, logic was beyond him as smoothly bared cunt lips quivered and coated his stroking fingers with dewy arousal that could not be denied. A distant part of his mind consoled himself with the fact that his Lady Minx was as consumed by the desires flaming between them as he was.
So slowly . . . slowly, he fingered the budding of his lady's clitoris. A lush eager love bud thrusting outward in swollen advance. Nia's returning moan into his mouth was the sound of a tempest sea crashing onto the cliffs. Elemental and unstoppable. The sound of her surrender thrashed through his tall frame as he bore her writhing feminine curves up against the wall.
That what he was doing was illicit seemed to spur him on rather than deter him. Added to Nia's ardent response and he was conquered within the moment. Good sense fled beneath the caress of his finger over Nia's swollen and throbbing budding. Each faster paced twirl of his finger won him a palpitating throb and a torrid whimper from his lady. Her body moved like desire and her mouth tasted of passion fires as she suckled on the thickness of his tongue that he fed her. Her breasts buoyed deeply into his chest with her taunt nipples piercing him as he stroked her honey cunt and she drizzled her answering arousal over his fingertips and glove.
Nia moaned vividly around Radford's tongue as her body undulated against the wall within a tempest of its own. The curling and torrid rise of pleasure enslaved her. What would she do for it to continue? What would she become to reach the explosive climax, so close within reach? Her senses were drowning on her pleasure center, drowning on the fingers of a master seducing her, controlling her, twisting her arousal to the peaks of torrid perfection. Overcome and wildly abandoned, she tore her mouth from Radford's to helplessly pant her desire, in vibrating mewls of pleasure.
"Lady of fire," Radford rasped hoarsely against her ear as she whimpered the driving force of her need against his whiskered chin.
"Please! Please," she begged, dragging her nails into his chest. "Lord, more. Faster. Ohh hh yes, yes!" Her hips sa
ng the song of passion, undulating wildly.
"For my name, my lady. For my name upon your lips." Radford's fingers shifted, placing his smudging thumb onto her clitoris as another finger settled deeper.
"Oh hh, Radford!" Nia cried, begging him without words, but pleading with her body's sexual movements.
"This?" he rasped as she cried out when his lowered finger entered her with a deep and carnal upward thrust.
Nia's head fell back in ecstasy as her breasts surged upward against Radford's chest and her inner sheath clutched frantically against the thickness of his finger. Just then, he rotated his thumb in a new side to side motion over her clitty that lifted her up onto her toes senselessly mewling his name. But, her lord, her seducing master, was not finished with his expertise as he suddenly began to circle his finger inside her sheath . . . ever wider.
She gulped back her shrill scream with her body shuddering uncontrollably.
"And now, I shall give you what your naked splendor begs for, Lady Fire."
Still circling, Radford withdrew his finger, then he plunged it inside her again. Nia choked on a scream, thrashing her head from side to side as he repeated his delving thrusts. Over and over. She cried out passionately as a climax, brilliant and veracious, shuddered without control through her body. The force of it undulated through her soft curves as she clutched Radford and hotly rode his finger.
"Fuck me! Yes!"
Nia choked a stifled scream when the sound of her own impassioned and senseless words broke through her mindless abandonment. She was stunned, then she was completely mortified. No lady would say such a thing! The fear of discovery quaked through her body still riding high on the soaring emotions of her climax and she shoved on Radford's chest, crying, "Let me go!"
She realized instantly that her unexpected shoving motion had thrown Radford off balance and she found herself free. She turned, groping her hands forward in the darkness to flee, as she stumbled a few times, yet she managed in her sudden panic to find the hidden entryway and escape with tripping steps.
"Go, Lady Fire. Fly. Fly on the wings of your gossamer desire. This is not the ending, cherie, only the first note."
Radford set his temple to the wall as a mocking tremor further tensed his body. He grimaced and forced his breathing into deeper valleys that lifted his chest in tandem with the insidious, yet slowing throb in his hardened prick. Slowly, ever so slowly, he brought his hand upward until his fingers hovered beneath his nostrils, and then he inhaled deeply, savoring the lush intimate scent.
"Firebrand, you smell of burning embers." Radford lowered his fingers to his lips and he licked the tips languidly. "You taste of peppery challenge and erotic desires."
Inch by inch, Radford slipped his finger into his mouth tasting every essence of Nia's fiery passion, stroking his finger along his tongue, remembering her delicate tongue fluttering there. He did not know what she looked like. He knew not a single feature of her face. "Yet, I would know her anywhere."
He turned then, slowly adjusting himself to the black surroundings so that he might find the door. "I leave you to your escape now, Lady Fire," he murmured. However, he fully intended to find out all he could about Lady Nia O'Shea, and his sources were thorough and beyond the pale.
Nia flung herself into her boudoir and with her hand still on the door handle she pushed the door shut with a slam. Then, she collapsed back against the door, breathing erratically with one hand clutched over her still throbbing sex, between her quaking thighs.
"Lord," she gasped turning her shaking body to press her cheek against the cool polished surface of the door. Then, she pressed her ear as she stilled suddenly, listening intently. Yet it was not until she heard voices murmuring from the front entryway of the townhouse, and then the front door opening and closing that she fell laxly against the polished mahogany surface.
"He is gone."
She was thankful with relief, because she believed that Radford might follow her. However, at the same time she was bereft, confused, and worried. She was anguished for the loss of further lovemaking and she was thoroughly confused, while at the same time she worried that the well informed Lord Benny might discover the mess she'd made of his strict instructions.
"Benny cannot know Radford that well or he would never be so foolish as to think I had any bloody hope of escaping him without being touched." She could still feel her sex pulsing on her fingertips from the climax that Radford has so urgently and sensually caressed out of her. She had been so stunned, so overwhelmed that she had run through the townhouse naked to flee him.
"Nay, from myself. I fled from myself." She could feel the liquid of her lusty response to Radford still coating her fingers. It was strange, nearly alien, the bounty of wetness dribbling over her fingertips. In times past with the several gentlemen that she'd had intimate relations with, she had used a cream Madam Vivian had provided to ease the way.
"Radford felt this! He felt how much I-," Nia sighed with nearly a moan. She traced her pussy lips so tender and full, while pressing to the door more closely as the bottom curving of her buttocks quivered. She was to have affected Radford, staying aloof as only a good whore should manage to do. However, she had the dismaying feeling that she was the one more truly affected in their encounter.
"Benny, I hope you free me on the next rendezvous! Yes, once I have tupped Duke Sutherlin properly this ungodly attraction will mellow. It is only the anticipation. Not unlike craving an éclair, but once you have eaten the bloody thing, you're full!" She sighed, turning back toward the room as she slowly lifted her fingers from her sex with the evidence to the contrary drying there. "Mind over matter," she muttered. It was something her Da used to say. "Onto the next adventure!"
Nia straightened her shoulders and stiffened up her wobbly legs, before marching to the bed and nightstand beside it, where the letter of instructions from Benny lay. She would find out what was to happen next, then bathe and sleep, putting the encounter aside.
"Aye." She nodded firmly, picking up the second page of the letter Benny had given her. Her gaze scanned the words slowly. In truth, she was nearly praying silently for any words that meant a wild tupping could ensue between her and Radford. Yet as she read, her heart sank on that matter, while her incredulousness grew and her sense of adventure became somewhat excited.
"Aye well, it is a bloody good thing I ride as well as I do, Benny dear, for what you are asking here. And, pistols? Lord, Benny darling, you have a vivid imagination!"
Chapter Six
"Come to the whorehouse with me. Take your mind off your unsuccessful inquiries. Besides, Rad, it will be much to your advantage to arrive at your planned marriage market soirée this weekend with a sated cock in your britches."
Radford stopped brushing his stallion's flanks momentarily. He and Saxonhurst stood inside the stalls of his London estate after a brisk morning ride. "There has to be a history on Lady Nia O'Shea or she is an imposter. There simply cannot be nothing about her anywhere, Saxon. And since when, my solemn friend, do you visit whorehouses?"
Radford watched Saxonhurst over the steaming flanks of his stallion as Saxon ran a curry brush smoothly down his bay high-stepper. Saxonhurst's nearly waist-length hair was loose once again this morning. It had been flying all about during their morning race through the park. It had been much too early for any noble ladies or gentlemen to promenade. However, the staff and servants of goodly establishments had been passing through the park on the way to their employ. This included a number of women of varying ages, and Radford had seen numerous of their gazes agog at the masculine display Saxonhurst provided, added with his long flowing brown hair.
"Since today, Radford. An adventure to liven the soul!"
"You miss spying as much as the rest of us." Radford smirked, then he resumed brushing his stallion.
"I thought that I didn't for a long time, Rad. But once the shock of losing my hand wore off, I believe that close brush with death has changed me."
"To whor
es?" Radford quipped.
Saxonhurst's deep mahogany colored eyes glanced at him. "A man should be well rounded or at least try. It never seemed to harm you or Brynmore, or Wyndham, for that matter."
"Men make a guise of it, Saxon. Not much there of true substance."
"She has gotten to you." Saxon nodded.
"Aye she has . . . perhaps. Maybe she will be at the soiree, Saxon."
"Without a doubt, my friend."
"You should come to the ball. The prediction is that the ladies bodies will be malleable."
"For you," Saxon laughed. "Which should be interesting with your inclinations already tangled in one, Lady Nia O'Shea. I will certainly attend the theme ball you have titled 'Midsummer's Night Dream.' The ensuing laughing at your situation and exploits should abound."
"You are ever the friend, Saxon," Radford quipped snidely.
"Oh I believe, your grace, that viewing your circumstances will bring merriment tenfold into my life."
Radford shook his head. "I do not know what to think of you anymore, Saxon, but I must say I am enjoying the improvement."
"Thank you, Rad, I believe I am also."
Radford set down his curry brush, and then he walked around his stallion toward Saxon. "I cannot believe that I cannot find any history on her, Saxon. No going to any whorehouse now. Now, I am going to Drummond."
"If he cannot find out anything about Lady Nia O'Shea, well then, she does not exist." Saxon proclaimed in agreement with him.
An hour later found them in the grand ballroom of the Duke of Kittridge's London home. The snapping of fencing swords whipping against each other was a staccato echo in the room. Radford stood beside Saxonhurst as they watched Drummond fencing with an unknown opponent. The fencing masks prevented recognition, yet Radford knew that he, as well as Saxon, would recognize Drummond's carriage and parrying style anywhere.
Radford knew of no better fencer than Drummond, except for himself. Used to be, his mind played games with him. Used to be many things, before he lost his eye in the Archangels last and most devastating spying mission before the end of the war. Generally speaking, he was able to keep most of his diminished capabilities a secret. The balance and dimension it now took to ride a horse had nearly been overcome, but fencing would forever be beyond him now. He regretted that because it was a taxing and cunning skill that admirably fulfilled his personality.
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