Lady Doctor Wyre: Jane Austen Space Opera, Book 1

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  She dropped her hand onto his shoulder and squeezed. “Not a one. Except perhaps…” She felt his muscles tense beneath her fingers, so she relented. “I could do without that ugly scar on my stomach.”

  He turned to her, then, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “There’s not an ugly spot on your luscious body and you know it.”

  Quirking her lips, she tugged lightly on the golden hair falling about his face. “I do regret the silk, then, that Gil so casually destroyed. That was a lovely dress, bought and paid for by the President of Americus.”

  “She stuffed my hold full of every scrap of silk she could get her hands on in payment for your services. Ladies all over Americus are bemoaning their sadly lacking wardrobes and hating you most dreadfully for stealing all their dress goods.”

  She leaned down and brushed her lips against his. “What now?”

  The tension increased in his body, although he laughed and tried to pretend as though he wasn’t worried. “Anything you wish, Your Grace.”

  “I’m not going to ask you to put Lord Regret to rest.”

  He tipped his head back, eyes narrowed as he searched her face. “Lord Regret is a killer.”

  “And a damned good one,” she replied easily. “I’m not going to change who you are, Sig. If you weren’t a killer, I wouldn’t be alive today. Just don’t accept an assignment to eliminate anyone I care about, like President Jaxson.”

  “Or a certain Sheriff Masters.”

  Now it was her turn to try and play off her nerves. She arched a brow at Sig. “Would you kill my marshal, Lord Regret?”

  Speaking of the devil, the door whooshed open. Masters hovered in the doorway, looking from Sig to her and taking note of the compromising position. Gil’s jaws worked but he didn’t say anything; he simply turned around to leave.

  “Where are you going?” She released Sig and marched toward Gil. Halting, she planted her hands on her hips and gave him a firm look. “Well?”

  Gil cleared his throat, staring down at the battered hat in his hands as he slowly twirled it. “You looked busy, Your Grace. I didn’t wish to interrupt you.”

  “You’re not interrupting, Gil.” She reached out and took his big gruff hand in hers. The feel of his calloused palm against hers made the muscles in her tummy quiver. “We were just talking about you.”

  “We were?” Sig kicked back in his chair like a negligent lord. “I don’t recall inviting any passengers on my ship.”

  “He’s my passenger and my guest.” Charlotte lifted her chin and shot a dark look at Sig. “You don’t have to make this so bloody difficult.”

  “If I’m not welcome,” Gil began.

  “You’re welcome,” she retorted, and then whirled to point a finger at Sig. “He asked me to marry him, remember? All you ever asked me to do was fly on your ship.”

  A knife suddenly gleamed in Sig’s hand, and he used the tip to clean his fingernails. “Oh, yes, I’ve been meaning to ask why an undercover marshal sent to spy on you would ask for your hand in marriage.”

  “I never spied on her.” Gil took a menacing step toward the other man without regard for the blade in his hand. “I love her. I thought I could protect her better if we were married, and I was fully prepared to sneak her off Americus myself.”

  “We’ve been over this before,” she said as calmly as possible. Gil advanced despite her hand on his chest, pushing her closer to Sig. “Gentlemen, please. Remember when I was recovering in the Capital and you both visited to swear your undying love for me?”

  “That was before he thought to stowaway on my ship.”

  Gil growled beneath his breath. “She invited me! Besides, why would she want an assassin in her bed?”

  “Why would she want a traitor?” Sig threw back, rising slowly to his feet. “Or worse, a rebel? You can’t even claim Americus as your home planet—you want to fly around the universe trying to incite all colonies and conquered species to rebellion! How safe will she be with you, hmmm?”

  “Enough!” She raised her voice, determined to keep them from coming to blows. Both men glared at each other toe-to-toe, ignoring the woman between them as though she were a speck of fluff too inconsequential to require their notice. Which infuriated her to no end. “I love you both and I will have you both, so you’ll just have to figure out how to get along without killing each other!”

  Sig smirked. “Who said anything about killing each other?”

  She punched him in the stomach. When Gil chuckled, she stomped on his foot. Neither of which earned a grunt let alone an ouch from either man. Sig took a step closer, pushing her against the big man behind her, who dropped his head and nuzzled her neck. “Is this better, Charlie?”

  “You’re intolerable.” Her voice only quivered slightly, but she did tilt her head to give Gil better access, while wrapping her arms around Sig to keep him close. “Both of you. How far were you going to go with your little ruse?”

  “I was fully prepared to cut off your gown to reveal your skin inch by inch so I could kiss it,” Sig whispered against her lips.

  Gil lifted his head and breathed heavily in her ear. “And I was fully prepared to use those strips of silk to tie him up for you.”

  She sighed dramatically. “Well, it’s just too bad that I care so very much about this gown that I can’t indulge in such an intriguing fantasy.”

  “We’ll buy you a new gown.” Laughing, Gil swept her up into his arms. “This thing can fly itself, can’t it?”

  “Of course.” Sig led the way toward his—their—bedchamber. “The finest technology in the galaxy at our lady’s fingertips.”

  He’d already equipped the room with a bed large enough for an orgy. Which is exactly what I intend to have, she decided with a wicked little laugh. Sig had even fetched her silk coverlet, her lone luxury for so many years. Teasing helped keep her sentimental tears at bay, so she used her most prudish voice to demand, “Do set me down, Sheriff Masters.”

  Always one to do as his lady asked, he obliged, even though he cast a yearning look at that bed.

  “Sit down, gentlemen. We need to resolve a few things between us.”

  Sig and Gil shared a long-suffering look of masculine terror and both sat on the edge of the bed. She looked at them, so different in temperament and looks, but with the same soul-deep look in their eyes, and it was all she could do not to pounce on the bed and push them both beneath her.

  “I want to make sure both of you are comfortable with our…arrangement.”

  Arching a brow, Sig began untying his cravat. “As long as you don’t ask us to make love to each other, then I’m fine with whatever you both want.”

  Gil blanched and shifted further away from the other man. “Absolutely. I don’t mind you loving us both, but I have no interest in the same sex.”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake! That’s not what I meant at all.” Bending down, she grabbed Gil’s ankle and began tugging on his boot. Once she got both of his removed, she turned to Sig’s. His required much unladylike grunting to get that tight, shiny leather stripped off. “What I meant to say, is that if you’d rather we take turns, that’s acceptable to me. One night I sleep with you, Sig, and the next night, I ask Gil. That might be easier to arrange.”

  “Don’t you want us at the same time, Charlie?” The raw need roughening Gil’s voice brought her attention back to him. She stripped off his stockings and then reached for his much simpler cravat. “Both of us kissing you, touching you, holding you all through the night? Every night? Because I’d rather not be parted from you for a single hour, even if I must share that hour with him.”

  In her haste, she accidentally tightened the knot in the linen, which made her bottom lip tremble with frustration. With a worried glance at the other man, Gil caught her frantic hands between his palms and just held her still.

  “We’ll do whatever you wish, my lady.”

  “Stop it,” she ground out, impatiently using her shoulder to wipe her tears away. “No formali
ty. Don’t you know what it does to me when you use his nickname?”

  Gil dropped her hands like they caught on fire. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean—”

  Charlotte launched herself at him, actually at both of them, but it was Gil she kissed first. “You stupid, stupid man. I love you. I love that you are willing to accept Sig, and him, you. When either of you call me Charlie, my tummy feels all warm and rich and sweet, like I just drank my favorite cup of tea.” She pulled back a moment and gave Sig a mock glare. “Speaking of which, you did stock golden-tipped assum, didn’t you?”

  Sig made himself useful by helping her remove her gown. “Nothing but the best for our dear Lady Wyre.”

  All pretense of intellectual discussion fled her mind as Gil kissed her and Sig worked at getting her corset off. “The strings are knotted,” he finally growled. “Let me get a knife.”

  “No! Don’t you dare.” Kneeling astride Gil, she sat back and forced her fingers to carefully untangle the strings. “Now the stockings—”

  “No,” both men retorted just as firmly.

  “Leave them on.” Panting, Gil ran his big palms up and down her legs, stroking the bare flesh of her upper thighs and the silken length of stocking down her calves. “So beautiful.”

  Sig pulled the chemise over her head and then removed the last of his clothing. He came to her, rising up on his knees so he could kiss her while Gil slid into her body. Groaning, she pushed down on his magnificent length, while he stroked those rough hands up the full length of her body, rasping against her breasts and neck only to begin the journey south again. In a matter of moments, they both cried out and he shuddered beneath her.

  “Forgive me,” he panted. “I wanted to make you come a dozen times.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she purred, grinding herself against him one last time before rising toward Sig. “We have days, weeks, months all alone on this luxury liner to fully enjoy ourselves.”

  Cupping Sig’s face in her hands, she hesitated, searching his eyes. She wasn’t sure how much of his darker need he’d care to reveal before the other man, if he’d be ashamed or embarrassed in any way. “Do you need…?”

  “Not this time.” Sig tumbled her on her back and lowered his mouth to her breasts. “After you came so close to death on Americus, I don’t think I shall ever be able to flirt with death again. However, I wouldn’t be offended if your sheriff happened to keep his shackles handy.”

  The other man left the bed momentarily, and then she heard the clank of metal. Sig lifted his head, letting her see his reaction as the other man handcuffed his wrists behind his back. His eyes were dark, his mouth soft and lush.

  “Tighter?” Gil asked, giving his arm a jerk.

  “Yes,” Sig said in a thick voice that she well recognized. The other man tightened the restraints until Sig made a small sound of pain.

  Wriggling lower on her body, he laid his cheek against the scar on her stomach. Her heartbeat quickened, her blood rushing and singing in her veins as though the assemblers he’d shared with her after her injury had suddenly zipped into high gear. Sig’s rapid breathing fanned across her skin, and the locket heated on her chest like a brand. He felt the magic too, the answering pulse of electronic signals that their human ears couldn’t recognize.

  “Does it bother you to be like me now?”

  “No.” She ran her hands through his golden hair. “Why should it? I created them. They fascinate me. I wouldn’t be alive here and now, holding and loving you both, without them.”

  Stretching out beside her, Gil nibbled on her lips and trailed soft, gentle kisses down her neck. But he had had his turn; this was about Sig and meeting his needs.

  She tangled her fingers in his hair and pushed him back on his haunches. His skin gleamed, darkened ivory gilded like his hair. Sweat glistened on his chest, his shoulders tight and straining against his bonds, while his erection curved invitingly. Leaning down, she reached back and released her hair to tumble across his groin and thighs. He shuddered and groaned at the pain in his shoulders, which she knew would only fuel his desire.

  Dragging her head back and forth, she tormented him with the silken caress of her hair and the faint brush of her mouth until he shook and groaned and cursed beneath his breath, but she didn’t make him beg. Not Lord Regret. Although they both knew she could bring him that low if she chose.

  She rose up to take him inside her. Bound with his legs bent beneath him, he couldn’t lie backward or thrust effectively, but that was fine. She rode him, taking him like he needed, claiming the pleasure from his body until he sagged in her arms and dropped his head against her shoulder.

  Gil helped her get the handcuffs off and then she gathered Sig into her arms with the other man behind her. “That was…interesting.”

  She arched her back slightly so that her backside pressed more fully into Gil’s groin. He was definitely interested in round two already, which didn’t surprise her in the least. “Would you like to be handcuffed, Sheriff?”

  “If you torment me like that…and keep those pink stockings on…sure.” He thought a moment, and then added, “Perhaps. Well, I…perhaps…”

  Sig laughed and nuzzled his face deeper into her breasts. “You’d best cuff his arms in front of him, Charlie. Take pity on him; he’s a beginner.”

  She rolled over a bit and rose up on her elbows so she could look down at her men. Her throat tightened with emotion, and her eyes burned, but she had only joy in her heart. “Happy Solstice, Lord Regret and Marshal Wesson.”

  Gil leaned up and kissed her, his big hand cupping the back of her head. “I like Masters better. I never gave you anything but my real name.”

  “Then Happy Solstice, Gilead Masters. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my husband?”

  He kissed her again, his mouth urgent, his fingers tight in her hair. “Absolutely, Lady Wyre. It would be my honor.”

  “And you, Sigmund Regret, will you marry me?”

  “Hmmm,” he drawled, letting the worry that had tightened his eyes fade away at her proposal. Her heart broke just a little all over again, because he’d been afraid that she’d tie him up, make love to him, but refuse to marry him in favor of Gil. “That depends, Lady Wyre, on where we’re going. We’ll have to find a planet that doesn’t object to polygamy.”

  “By the way,” Gil said, “where are we going?”

  “For now, our coordinates are simply the opposite direction of Britannia, with a restocking—”

  “Shopping!” Charlotte added.

  “Trip to the Bei-Jing port of Zijin. After that, wherever Lady Wyre wishes to go.”

  “Zijin certainly has no love for Britannia, but it’s still rather too close to Majel for comfort. Imperial cruisers are in and out of Bei-Jing all the time. I don’t know, Sig.”

  “They have tea,” he replied, his blue eyes twinkling.

  “And silk,” Gil added, trailing his fingers along the edge of silk above her knee. “Lots of silk. Pink silk and white and blue and…”

  “All right,” she retorted with laughter. “The Golden Dragon Kingdom it is.”

  Sig kissed her knuckles and nibbled on her fingers.

  Gil nipped her neck.

  And she’d never been happier in her entire life.

  “Happy Solstice, Lady Wyre.”

  About the Author

  Joely always has her nose buried in a book, especially one with mythology, fairy tales and romance. She, her husband and their three monsters live in Missouri. By day, she’s a computer programmer with a Masters of Science degree in Mathematics. When night falls, she bespells the monsters so she can write. Read more about her current projects on her website, http://joelysueburkhart.com. Lady Doctor Wyre is Joely’s ninth published title.

  Look for these titles by Joely Sue Burkhart

  Now Available:

  The Connaghers

  Dear Sir, I’m Yours

  Hurt Me So Good

  One sub to please the Master…in any way h
e wishes.

  Hurt Me So Good

  © 2010 Joely Sue Burkhart

  Victor Connagher is no stranger to the Dallas BDSM scene. As CEO of a risqué cable channel that caters to adventurous adults, he ensures the lifestyle is portrayed in a positive light. He even supports a local bondage club. Yet behind the cool, confident mask, Victor lives in fear.

  Once, and only once, he lost control of his inner Dom—and it cost him his fiancée. Now, no one knows how hard he works to keep his darker appetite for pain buried. No matter how much his saucy, confident associate producer makes his fingers itch to once again take up his riding crop.

  Shiloh Holmes is a sub, but she’s no doormat. She’s always suspected Victor has the skills to feed her insatiable need for pain, and now she’s found the perfect way to crack his formidable control. Develop a new reality show, America’s Next Top sub…and dare him to compete.

  Week after week, as Shiloh fearlessly challenges the real Victor to come out of hiding, he realizes his past mistake was only a blow to his pride. If he loses Shiloh, he could lose his heart.

  Warning: Explicit sex, BDSM, reality television, a very reluctant Dom, an audacious sub willing to do anything to win for him, and one very wicked riding crop.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Hurt Me So Good:

  Shiloh didn’t stop to think about what she was doing. While he was off balance—mentally and physically—she knelt and pulled his foot into her lap so she could exam his knee. He only wore a pair of black sport shorts and his hair was still wet. Shirtless, hair loose about his shoulders, and his muscular body practically bare, he didn’t seem as intimidating…just drop dead gorgeous.

  It was much easier to concentrate on the surgical scars than soak in his bare chest. Gently, she probed his knee with her fingers, noting the swelling and soreness each time he tensed. She risked a glance up at his face.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Mal, I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up and set the phone on the bench beside him.