by Mia Gabriel
“No—ah, whatever pleases you, Master,” I said. I was pleased, too; I couldn’t deny it. “What of Mr. Henery?”
“He is of no consequence,” he said, clearly believing exactly that. “It’s Blackledge that wants you, and I won’t put you in that danger again.”
I smiled with tremulous relief. “Thank you, Master.”
“You needn’t thank me, Eve,” he said. “I’ve told you before that as your Protector, I am responsible for your welfare as well as your education.”
I nodded, and linked my fingers into his, grateful even if he wouldn’t let me say it aloud. He slipped in and out of the Game so seamlessly that it was often difficult for me to tell when he was playing and when he wasn’t, and whether it was the master’s cock that was fucking me or Savage’s.
“Did Lady Carleigh say anything else, Master?” I asked.
He sighed with resignation. “No questions, Eve, no questions. But no, she said nothing to me. Our exchange this evening was entirely written.”
“You—you didn’t go to her rooms?”
“No,” he said, a single, glorious word to my ears. “My first concern was you, and after what occurred in the dining room, I would never leave you alone, not even here. I was in the front room while you slept.”
Once again I was perilously close to tears.
I couldn’t stay away.…
My first concern was you.…
I would never leave you alone.…
“What is this?” he said, gently turning my shoulder toward the moonlight. Lightly he touched his fingertips to the place where he’d bitten me in passion, leaving my pale skin bruised and swollen.
“It’s nothing,” I said quickly, even as I winced at his touch.
“I’ve marked you,” he said evenly, an observation without any apology or sympathy. “Does it hurt?”
“Only a little,” I lied. I bruised easily, and though I was sure in the morning the mark would be quite noticeable, I didn’t care. It excited me to remember the circumstances of the bruise’s origin, and I’d gladly suffer another like it if it came with the same pleasure.
He bent and kissed the bruise. “Don’t leave me, Eve. That’s all I ask. Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t, Master,” I whispered, twisting around to kiss him. “Never.”
NINE
The voices were what woke me.
I opened my eyes, listening. It was morning, and the sun was already bright over the trees. Savage lay beside me, still soundly asleep, his large, glorious body sprawled beneath the sheets, exactly as it should be. For the last two days and nights, we hadn’t left his rooms, and had scarcely left this bed, exactly as it should be, too.
But there—there it was again, coming from the lawn outside the window. A man’s voice, curt, even angry, shouting at a woman who was pleading with him. Although their words weren’t distinct, the tone of them was, and it was chilling. At so early an hour, the voices most likely belonged to servants engaged in some unhappy lovers’ quarrel—such things were often overheard in great houses with large staffs—but the woman’s distress still unsettled me.
Taking care not to disturb Savage, I slipped from the bed and wrapped the extra coverlet around myself. Swiftly I padded across the room to the open window to see if I could spy the pair.
I didn’t have to look far.
There on the front lawn before the house were the man and woman. They weren’t servants but guests: Mrs. Anson in her Innocent’s costume with her long, dark hair trailing over her shoulders, and Lord Standage as her master dressed in ordinary clothing, a white shirt and light-colored trousers without a coat.
As I watched, he embraced her, kissing her hard, while she tried to break away. At last she did, and began to run from him, gathering the hem of her trailing costume in her hands to free her legs. Angrily Lord Standage shouted at her to stop, and still Mrs. Anson fled like some wild wood nymph with her hair flying behind her.
But the grass was wet with morning dew, and her bare feet slipped and slid, making it easy for Lord Standage to grab her by her hair and pull her back. Mrs. Anson wailed and struggled against him, while he held her fast with one hand and opened the buttons on his trousers with the other. Brutishly he shoved her down to the grass on her hands and knees, and tossed her costume back over hips, exposing her bottom and quim.
She begged with him to let her go, her voice shrill and filled with panic. He pulled out his cock and gave it a few quick shakes of his hand up and down the shaft to make it hard before he dropped to his knees behind her.
But once again she wriggled free and escaped, running from him with desperate, stumbling speed as he shouted after her to stop. That desperation, plus the panic in her begging, were finally too much for me.
I ran back to the bed and shook Savage by the shoulder.
“You must wake up, Savage, I beg you!” I exclaimed anxiously. “Lord Standage is attacking Mrs. Anson, and we must stop him!”
He rolled over, blinking and grouchy, his jaw shadowed with a night’s worth of beard and his hair rough and unruly. “What in blazes are you talking about?”
“I told you,” I said breathlessly. “Mrs. Anson is being attacked by Lord Standage, and she needs our help!”
I hurried back to the window, leaning forward to rest my elbows on the sill. Nothing had changed: the lady was still eluding her pursuer, but only barely. From the way she was panting, I judged it was only a matter of time before he’d finally catch her.
Savage joined me at the window, yawning as he came to stand behind me.
“Now what’s all this great bother?” he asked, leaning over my shoulder.
“Down there,” I said, pointing. “It’s Mrs. Anson and Lord Standage. I know she’s his Innocent, but he’s being very rough with her, and it’s clear she doesn’t wish to be caught and—and raped. Oh, we must stop him, Savage!”
He watched for a leisurely moment, more interested in running his hand along my back than in what was happening outside.
“Oh, those two,” he said, yawning again. “There’s nothing new there. She leaves her husband behind in Northumberland, and meets Standage here, and in London as well. It’s the way they choose to play the Game.”
“That’s part of the Game?” I asked uncertainly. It was hard for me to believe that Mrs. Anson would choose this, from the way she was trying so hard to escape. From a distance, her panic and fear seemed thoroughly genuine. “She wants him to chase her like that?”
“She’s working rather hard at it, isn’t she?” He slid his hand beneath the coverlet wrapped around me, and gently began rubbing and squeezing my upturned bottom as I leaned on the windowsill. “All that shrieking and running about is merely her way of catching his attention and rousing a cockstand out of the old fellow.”
This, I thought, was clearly not a problem with Savage. Already I could feel the hot, steely length of his cock pressing against my bottom, ready to ease into me with the slightest encouragement. I was still swollen from last night’s encounters, still half aroused as well. Having a man like Savage standing naked while he gently kneaded my hip would have that effect on most women.
“I’d wager she’s been leading him around for a good hour or so,” Savage continued. “Look at the grass stains on his knees! Likely she’s let him almost catch her a half-dozen times or more. If she’s not careful, he’ll— Ah, he’s caught her fairly this time.”
“She’s—she’s giving up,” I said, chagrined at having believed the pantomime was real. “She’s surrendered.”
Mrs. Anson had done exactly that. This time when Lord Standage had pulled her down to the grass, she’d stayed there on her knees. She’d stopped wailing and protesting, too, and had in fact spread her knees farther apart to welcome her master, wiggling a bit to entice him further.
“One can never judge another’s tastes when it comes to sex,” Savage said philosophically, as if his hand had moved to cover my quim completely of its own volition. “Personally I w
ouldn’t care for so much hysteria, culminating in a public rutting on the front lawn, but those two are entirely welcome to do whatever pleases them. You’re wet, Eve.”
“I—I cannot help it, Master,” I said. I let the coverlet slip to the floor, shamelessly arching my back to push against his hand. Yet, it wasn’t entirely because of how he was caressing me. Watching the pair on the lawn was arousing, too.
Lord Standage’s cock was a short, thick affair, and even with Mrs. Anson positioned to accommodate him, he still needed several forceful thrusts to bury himself. Grimacing, he held her tightly by her full hips, while she bent forward, pillowing her head on her folded arms to improve his penetration and pushing upward to meet his thrusts. With each thrust, she gave out joyful little yips of pleasure that echoed across the lawn.
There was now no doubt that Mrs. Anson was a willing participant, and no doubt, either, that the earlier game of elusive pursuit that Mrs. Anson had played with Lord Standage had served to increase their ardor.
Now, too, I understood what Savage had said about not judging others’ pleasures. Before I’d left New York, I certainly wouldn’t have believed I would find my current position so exciting. I never would have expected to enjoy leaning naked in front of the open window of a peer’s country house while my quim was being fingered open by an equally naked gentleman, both of us watching another couple fuck on the lawn.
“I like how you can’t help it,” Savage said, lowering his voice to the special, slightly gruff but seductive level that made me shiver. “It means that you’re already willing, already aroused, the way that a proper Innocent should be.”
“I—I am a proper Innocent, Master,” I stammered, just as he slipped one of his thick fingers inside me. He rotated his finger, pressing inside my channel’s walls, and I gasped with the pleasure of it. “Oh, Master!”
“Stand steady, Eve,” he warned, sliding his finger in and out. “Keep your eyes open. I don’t want you to miss the excellent performance that Mrs. Anson and Standage are giving for you.”
“Nooo, Master,” I whispered, clinging tightly to the windowsill. I was slippery around his finger, inflamed by his maddening strokes. I needed the support of the sill, for my knees were shaking beneath me.
“I doubt we’re the only ones watching, either,” Savage continued. “That’s what they wanted, you know, an audience, or else they would have kept to their own room. I expect these windows on the west front of the house must resemble the boxes at Covent Garden at present. Don’t you agree, Eve?”
“Yesss, Master,” I somehow managed to answer. He’d added a second finger to the first, the growing pressure delicious, and yet not even close to how his cock would feel inside me. And of course I’d soon feel his cock. It was only a matter of when Savage would do it.
“You’re so wet around my fingers, Eve,” he said. “I can’t begin to tell you how beautiful you are like this, rosy and open and dripping for my cock. I like seeing you so inspired. But then, you’ve always liked watching from above, haven’t you?”
I knew exactly what he was going to say next, how he’d remind me of that first night in London. I knew it, and I was right.
“That was when I first saw you,” he continued, stroking me still. “You were leaning over that balustrade to watch me. Your face was rapt, your lips parted, and I knew you were as wet as you are now. Having you watch me fuck another woman was the best part of that night, knowing you wanted me as much as I wanted you. As much as you want me now.”
I was breathing hard, close to coming—but not so close that I hadn’t heard what he’d said. I was flattered and touched that he’d called me the best part of that first night we met, and I loved learning that he’d instantly desired me as much as I had him.
But I only wished he hadn’t thought of it now when he had me in much the same position as Lady Cynthia Telford had been. Lady Telford had been bent over a garden bench for him, while I was now bent over the windowsill, which wasn’t much of a difference.
I longed for Savage to have better associations with me, memories that were separate from the forgotten Lady Telford or any other woman. I didn’t want to be predictable. I’d surprised him by watching him that night in the garden, and I was determined to surprise him again.
Swiftly, before I lost my nerve and before he could react, I twisted free of his hand and his deliciously teasing fingers. I darted across the room and clambered up to stand on the bed.
“Catch me, Master,” I said breathlessly, bouncing slightly on the mattress with my arms outstretched to keep my balance. His face was so astonished as he stared up at me that I nearly laughed aloud. “Catch me if you can!”
“Oh, I’ll catch you,” he said, his eyes gleaming. “And when I do, you’ll wish you hadn’t done this, you naughty Innocent.”
Despite his warning, he was grinning, a wicked grin that showed me he liked the challenge.
“You’ll have to catch me first, Master.” Defiantly I smiled back as I shoved my hair back over my shoulders, my breath coming in quick gulps of excitement. He was staring at my breasts, at how they must be trembling as I stood unsteadily on the bed. I bounced a bit more to tease him. My body was still so sexually on edge that I felt wild and reckless and daring. “I’ll be faster than Mrs. Anson, too.”
“But I’m infinitely faster than his lordship,” he said. “You don’t stand a chance with me.”
He grabbed his paisley robe from the chair and shrugged it on, his gaze never leaving me. I wondered why he’d bothered with the robe, then realized that he thought he’d be chasing me not only in this room but through the house and perhaps farther, as the other couple had done.
I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I was naked, without even the dubious covering of my Innocent’s costume, and I’d a fleeting image of myself in that state racing down the long halls of Wrenton with him in hot pursuit.
I should have been shocked by this prospect. Instead, I found it wildly exciting, even exhilarating. I’d no real sense of how fast I could run. In my ordinary life, I was customarily weighed down by so many layers of clothing, corsetry, and propriety that it was nearly twenty years since I’d last run at all. I suspected he was faster, exactly as he’d claimed, but I was eager for the chance to try to outrun him—nearly as much as I was eager to be caught.
“Are you going to bounce on that bed all day, Eve?” he asked, slowly circling the bed. He was moving like a prowling tiger, every lean muscle with a purpose, and making me feel like his prey. “You know I can come get you there, too.”
“I will, Master,” I promised, “when the time is right.”
He chuckled, and shook his hair back from his forehead and narrowed his eyes. His silk robe slipped open, displaying the dark whorls of hair on his chest.
I wondered if beneath that flowing, patterned silk he still had a cockstand. From the way he was looking at me, I guessed that he did.
“What a willful little Innocent you are!” he said, almost proudly. “You’ll regret speeches like that, you know. I fear there must be a suitable punishment after this.”
So he was enjoying this every bit as much as I was, a certainty that served only to spur me on. He had worked his way to the far side of the bed, near one of the bedside tables. If I jumped down now from the bedstead, I’d have a moment or two as a head start to reach the door.
“I’m not afraid of your punishments, Master,” I said bravely. “You asked me to trust you, and I do.”
He tipped his head to one side, considering me. “You trust me to do what is best for your education?”
“I do, Master,” I said. “I must.”
“An excellent answer, Eve,” he said. “I shall take it into consideration as I decide your punishment for willfulness.”
I wrinkled my nose; not exactly defiant, but not exactly believing that there’d be any serious punishment, either. Thus far he’d shown me only kindness with a heady mix of passion, and I suspected his “punishment” would simply be another f
acet of the Game.
“Don’t make faces at me, Eve,” he warned. “I do not like impudence in my Innocents.”
Without looking away from me, he opened the table’s drawer, reached inside, and took something out. I thought at first it was a pair of bracelets, the brightly polished silver glinting in the sun. A gift of jewelry, I thought pleasurably. I did love jewelry, and it would be very nice of him to give me a piece or two, as a memento of this week. What manner of punishment could that be?
Then I noticed the thick chain linking the two wide cuffs together, and with a chill I realized that what Savage was holding were not bracelets but a pair of manacles, similar to the ones I’d once seen on prisoners being led off by policemen in New York. Except these manacles weren’t made for large male prisoners. They were small, almost dainty, designed to fit a lady’s wrists.
Like mine.
“What is the meaning of—of those, Master?” I said, my earlier playfulness gone in an instant. “When you spoke of punishment, I didn’t think—that is, I didn’t know—”
“You must trust me, Eve,” he said firmly. “You were the one who was willful and impudent, and now you must trust me to know best how to punish you.”
His voice was deep and low, resonant with seduction. Every other time, his voice alone had been enough to make me melt. But I had never considered silver manacles part of seduction. In truth, I’d never once in my life considered silver manacles in any fashion at all.
Panicking, I thought of Lord Blackledge, and how roughly he’d appeared to use his Innocent, trussing her and binding her and stopping her words with a gag. Could Savage intend to do those things to me, too?
I folded my arms over my breasts. “I’m sorry, Savage, but I don’t believe that being chained up like a dog would be—”
“I would never think of you like a dog, Eve,” he said, a little wounded, slipping the offending manacles into the pocket of his robe and out of my sight. “It won’t be like that at all. It’s only an amusement, a petite plaisir. Part of the Game. You’ll see. You haven’t found anything else we’ve done disagreeable, have you?”