9781618859594HerDeviantLordPimentel

by Layna Pimentel

  In the last few days, he had come to discover that the lands in which the estate is located is rich by agricultural means. He supposed that once they were established, and he had the opportunity to meet with the tenants, they could work together in turning a healthy profit. Which would, in turn, provide for future generations of their growing family.

  Nevertheless, the first order of business was to get married and get settled. Once things finally smoothed over, he would attempt to convince her to have another son. Ah, to have a brood full of sons. Brawling, handsome, mischievous little buggers. Cordelia might oppose having an entire brood of little boys, but he would leave their fate in the hands of destiny.

  Happening upon Cordelia in their quarters, he swept into the room with a charming grace. Her brows perked up, speculating his every move. When he reached the edge of the bed, Bastian slowly removed his cravat, gave it twirl, and tucked it into his pocket. “So my love, where is our darling son at this moment?”

  Her lashes fluttered, and she licked her lips. “In the nursery with his maid,” she purred seductively.

  “Hmm…all this time alone. I think we need to find something productive and conducive to our health, no?”

  She nodded and chewed on her bottom lip. “What did you have in mind, my lord?”

  What did he have in mind? They could not behave as if there was no one else in the manor, so he had to get creative. And he did not have the implement he preferred to use on hand. “Well, for one thing, you are wearing an impossible amount of layers. Begin divesting yourself. I shall sit here and watch.”

  There were times in their previous occasions together when she would undress, teasing him until his cock stirred uncomfortably in his breeches. Tonight though, he wanted to savor every moment and take away the memory her horrid experience from earlier.

  Bastian worshipped this woman in every regard, and he would remind her as so very shortly. When his teeth would graze over nipples, his tongue sliding over the contours of her belly and his fingers sliding in and out of her. She would not be denied tonight. Her mouth would swallow his cock, and her arse would revel in its entirety when he penetrated her there. The pain would eventually give her pleasure. How he missed her perfectly round bottom.

  He pulled out his cock and stroked it as she teased him. Her creamy white shoulders and her full breasts made him ache to bite them and mark her as his. When her garments fell to the floor, and she stood before him nude, he crooked his finger for her to come forth.

  She sank to her knees between his legs and took his length into her mouth.

  “That’s a good girl. How I have missed those perfect lips of yours, my dear. Suck me good and hard, love. I want you to show me how much of a good lass you are.”

  And a good girl she was. He loved her lips around him, and to think, they would have many nights like this ahead of them. He would do well to remind himself throughout the night, and for the rest of their days, to show her how much he loved her.

  Chapter Ten

  Cordelia sighed at the vanity while brushing her dark hair. In the looking glass, the candle light flickered, creating an ambience that rivaled any other. The black silk and lace chemise felt exquisite when she slid it over her contours. Pity that the poor thing will be tattered in a matter of moments, once Bastian lays eyes on it.

  She waited for her husband to return from the gaming room, and with any luck, he would not be too foxed for some loving. After all these years, the heart ache, and foibles, she was the luckiest woman alive. She had married the man that she loved and could not think of anything more blissful, other than giving birth to Matthew.

  The fire burned with fervor, making her too hot. Perhaps it was her nerves, but something did not feel right. A noise outside—much like crates tumbling down—somewhere below her window, piqued her curiosity. Cordelia looked out but saw nothing out of order. But then again, it was dark.

  What could have made that noise?

  Somewhere in the manor, doors were opening and closing. A sound that was most welcoming. Her husband would join her shortly, and they could begin making a life with each other. Wedded bliss the second time around.

  The bedroom door opened and closed, and then her husband was leaning against the door, grinning like a cat who had caught the prize rat.

  “Look at who decided to join me. How do I look, my lord?”

  Bastian tried to hide his amusement from her, but she could tell he was quite pleased.

  “Ravishing, my dear. The chemise is a work of art, however, if you do not remove it yourself, it will end up torn.”

  Just as I thought. The scoundrel would tear off her gown without a second glance. About to slide it off, she heard the same noise again. “Bastian, I think someone is out there.”

  “Who on earth would be out here, touring the grounds, at this time of night?”

  “How am I supposed to know? I have really have a terrible feeling something is amiss, Bastian.”

  He came up behind her at the window, wrapping his arms around her. His chin rested on top of her head, and he whispered, “Love, I know not what has you so worried. The marquess’ grounds are well-kept, and his house is soundly locked down for the evening. I can promise you absolutely no one will intrude upon us. Beatrice is with Matthew, and the rest of the manor has retired for the evening. Nathaniel went to accommodating lengths to ensure we would have this wing to ourselves for the night.”

  “I know all of that, dear, but what if that crazy woman is here. Watching the house, and waiting for…”

  “My dear, enough of this nonsense.” He turned her around so that they now faced each other. “Sweetling, what can I do to prove to you that we are alone?”

  All Cordelia could do was shrug. Her imagination was running rampant with a non-existent intrigue. That woman would never dare break into the marquess’ home. Or would she?

  “There you go, thinking again. My love, come to bed, and I will tell you my plans for tomorrow, and then I will ravish you proper.”

  Removing her gown, she climbed under the sheets next Bastian, who disrobed as if he had less clothing on than she. He pulled her into his embrace and squeezed her tight. Everything felt so right in his arms that nothing could elude the moment or make it devoid of love. Their passion is what Byron wrote about and Shakespeare envied.

  “My love, tomorrow after breakfast, I will personally escort you and our son home. From there, you will stay put until I return from checking on your family’s estate. I have it on good authority that the grounds have been maintained, and the house is still sound. After I have confirmed its condition and have arranged to have the staff clean it in its entirety, we will relocate there.

  “It is my hope that once we are able to call it home, you will organize a dinner party. You are, after all, my countess, and what better way to re-establish your previous credibility than to make peace with society.”

  The mere fact that her husband was going to such lengths assured her that they were perfect for each other. He made her feel special, a sentiment she had never experienced with Richard. But that was a chapter in her life that she would never gaze upon again. “While that sounds wonderful, my love, right now, I would prefer that we make the most of our wedding night. After all, it could be days before I see you again.”

  “Very well, dear… Now, where did I leave my cravat? I think we shall tie you to the bed tonight.”

  Ah! Now, there is the Bastian I remember.

  * * * *

  Bastian rode hard for the first few hours, but he knew he would never make it to the house in Leicester in time for sunset. Instead, he turned on the road that would take him to Northampton. Hopefully, he would find a staging inn not filled to capacity for the evening.

  When he changed paths, he noticed another rider following from afar. Bastian goaded his black horse into galloping until he disappeared into a thick treeline. For whatever reason, his instinct warned him not to trust the rider.

  But why would anyone follow me
? This does not add up. It had been years since he had kept up with ill company. He did not owe any debts from when he last visited White’s or through some other private affairs he had with the few gents.

  Besides, ever since Cordelia and Matthew had returned to his life, he had not been out much. Save for only a few drinks with the Marquess of Stoughton and the Earl of Avonlea.

  Bastian calmed his mount and watched the rider come to a halt and climb down from his horse. The stout man with brown, scraggly hair grumbled and uttered oaths. He certainly did not appear familiar. Which means someone hired him, but who?

  The curious earl hid behind a tree and waited for the man to pass him before tackling him to the ground. He pinned the man face-down in the dirt and fallen leaves. “Why are you following me? Who hired you?”

  The stranger struggled but conceded to the weight pressing down on him. “That bit o’ muslin wanted me to keep you busy, is all. She had matters to take care of, and did not want your interference, guvnor.”

  “What is your meaning?” Bastian growled, trying to figure out what the man was saying. “What woman are you talking about?”

  “She said her name was Mary,” he choked out.

  “Did she make any mention as to plan?”

  “No, sir, only that she was going to take exception with a certain lady and make sure she was permanently removed from the situation.”

  Bastian could only see red. His chest tightened with fear. Mary Elizabeth intended to harm his countess. Good heavens…Matthew! He had to get back to the house promptly. The estate in Leicester would have to wait, or he could send his servants to clean and properly stock the wares if needed.

  Home. He needed to get home and swiftly. He would kill the bloody woman if he had to, but there was no chance that she would walk away from this without getting her comeuppance.

  He climbed back on his steed and rode hard, not stopping until he reached the outskirts of town where the marquess and his family lived in peace. Bastian pounded on the door until a servant answered, sleepy eyed. “How can I help you, my lord? The family is asleep—”

  “What in damnation is all that noise about, Duncan?” Nathaniel came into sight and scowled when he saw the earl standing there. “There had better be a demmed good reason for this visit, Wycliffe.”

  “The blasted chit has gone and done it now. I fear for Cordelia and Matthew’s safety. She hired a criminal to track me and keep me distracted while she eliminated a problem.”

  The marquess groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Will this madness ever end? Duncan, have my horse readied. I shall see what my connections on Bow Street can do for you, Bastian, but I cannot promise you anything.”

  “Your help is more than I expected, Nathaniel. I must be off. I have to make sure they are safe.”

  Nathaniel nodded, and his butler closed the door behind him.

  Riding home had never felt so agonizing. Words could not begin to express what he would do if a hair on either of them was harmed. How anyone could take their vengeance on an innocent person and child was beyond him.

  As he approached, he heard the fire brigade’s bells ringing furiously and saw flames reaching into the sky. Upon closer inspection, he found his townhouse ablaze. Neighbors, servants, and spectators crowded into the street.

  Cordelia! Matthew!

  His heart sank and crushed under the weight of excruciating fear until he saw his butler and housekeeper in the street shivering.

  “My lord, we do not know what happened.”

  “Where are my wife and son?”

  “We do not know. Beatrice has taken Matthew to her family’s home, but the countess we have not seen since supper.”

  Somewhere behind him, he heard his name being called. When he turned, there was Nathaniel and a runner.

  “We are so glad we found you. We ran into a few lads who say they saw someone who looked like the countess accompanied by another woman headed down the street to a waiting hackney. Is Matthew…”

  Bastian shook his head and blinked furiously at how surreal this situation had become. “Matthew was taken to our nursemaid’s home for safekeeping. As soon as Cordelia has been recovered, I will collect him.”

  “Allow me to take them into my protection, Bastian. Your servants too. They will need a warm place to stay.”

  How could he refuse the generous offer? “Certainly. I will be along as soon as I can. I cannot rest until I have found her.”

  His butler and housekeeper approached. “My lord, I am certain the countess is fine. I know it deep in my heart.”

  Let us hope so. As I am in no mood for games.

  * * * *

  Cordelia shook her head. Groggy, sore, and in disbelief, pain riddled her from head to toe. The gag made her mouth dry, and she would kill or beg for mercy if it meant she could have a drop of water.

  The last thing she remembered was that dreadful woman sneaking up behind her in the bedroom. Mary Elizabeth had attempted to choke her. When the countess had slapped the mad woman away, she had taken a lit candle and set the bed and curtains ablaze. After starting a fire in the kitchen, the witch had managed to sneak up the stairs undetected.

  Cordelia glared at her surroundings, trying to determine where she was. Nothing looked familiar, nor did the view from outside the window. She could hear the morning hustle and bustle below in the street, which meant she could not have gone too far from home and that she was near enough to the market.

  The only question occupying her thoughts was Matthew’s safety, followed quickly by Bastians’. Good heavens…if Bastian had returned last night to find the home afire, he would be having an apoplectic fit. He would be guilt-ridden for having left us alone. She could not bear the thought of having a life that did not include either one of them.

  She was convinced that this was her punishment for her affair with Bastian. It had to be. What else could this purgatory mean?

  While deep in a flurry of thoughts about her husband and son, Mary Elizabeth joined her, setting a pistol down next to her on the sideboard. Then, she stalked toward Cordelia and ripped the gag from her mouth before occupying a chair across from the countess.

  “What is it that you want from me?” Cordelia screamed, struggling against her restraints.

  The woman merely laughed. “The truth is that I do not want anything from you. What I want is for you to die. It appears to be the only way I will be rid of you, once and for all. The earl is mine. We were perfectly matched, until you decided to return to town. With you out of the picture, I will be able to pick up the pieces from where we left off.”

  “You are mad!”

  “Maybe a touch, but after this, you will never see him again.”

  “If you love him so much, why would you seek to hurt him so? Why would steal his wife from him and kill his son?”

  Her captor winced at her words. “You lie!” she shrieked. “Bastian has no children. At least not yet. Once we are together, married, and happily situated away from London, we shall have all the children he wants.”

  Clearly the woman was beyond delusional. Cordelia shook her head, and tsked at her assailant. “You shall never have him. If you think by killing me, you will gain favor with the earl, you are mistaken. When you are caught, and I am certain you will be, they will whisk you away to Newgate. Perhaps, they will even ship you abroad to whatever that place is called…Botany Bay…and you will have to take up your previous profession of lifting your skirts.”

  “You wretched woman!” Mary Elizabeth howled. The woman rushed over to her, slapping her across the face.

  Suddenly, the sounds of men shouting and footsteps running through the hallway outside caught both their attention.

  Cordelia heard the rattling of other doors before they stopped outside of the room. The pounding on the wood shook the floorboards beneath them. “Open the door this instant, Mary Elizabeth!”

  Bastian! He had found her. Tears welled up, and relief washed over her.

  But then
, the door burst open, Mary Elizabeth ran to where she had placed the pistol and pointed it straight at the countess.

  Bastian, the marquess, and two other men barrelled into the room.

  “Apprehend her this instant!” the shorter, unfamiliar man shouted.

  The moment that Bastian stepped forward, the gun fired. Mary Elizabeth looked horrified before moving back toward the window and throwing herself out.

  In the next minutes, Cordelia struggled to understand what was happening around her. All the shouting had faded into somewhere in the distance, and her belly burned. She dared not look at what was causing the discomfort, only realizing that Bastian had fallen to his knees before her and was holding a cloth at her wound.

  She tried to speak, but words would not form.

  “Shh…conserve your energy my love. We shall get a surgeon to look at you immediately.”

  This was the last thing she heard before closing her eyes and drifting into unconsciousness.

  * * * *

  Bastian paced at her bedside frantically. Cordelia had been asleep on and off for a whole day, and their son was restless. He needed his mama, and the earl desperately needed his wife.

  The Marquess of Stoughton had offered them to stay on at Stoughton Hall until his servants had cleaned up their new home in Leicester. Every so often, the marchioness would pop in and check on Cordelia, but she remained asleep. The surgeon had cautioned them that the laudanum would prolong the sleep. Provided that they did not give her anymore until she awoke, Cordelia would recover in no time.

  The tissue damage was repairable and would not affect her in anyway, should they choose to have more children. There was, however, the distinct possibility that a scar would remain in place of the entry wound.

  Truth be told, he cared not if her skin was blemished. As long as he had her in his arms until the end of his days, ’twas all he could ask for.