by Blake,Zoe
“Where is she?”
His question was directed at the footman he found guarding the back staircase. He had no time for pleasantries or affirmations of a job well done. It had taken an hour for the second footman to return to Warrington House with the details on the women’s location. One whole hour. An excruciating hour with all sorts of dire imaginings. The constables could grab her for attempting to flee. Whoever was out to murder her could capture her and finally succeed. Not to mention all the brigands and criminals she would encounter in the seedier part of London.
Pierce had no idea why she fled and quite frankly, he didn’t care at the moment. All he cared about was getting his hands on her, ensuring she was safe and then tanning her precious hide with a leather shaving strap.
The footman gestured above him. “Up there in a private room, my lord.”
Pierce nodded with his head. “Go wait with the carriage.” The footman fled his imposing presence without another word.
Pierce took the stairs one at a time. Trying to rein in his temper with each step.
~*~
There was no warning.
The decrepit door flung open so violently it fell off its hinges.
Sarah and Elma rose with a shriek.
Outlined against the faint light of the hallway was a tall figure garbed in black riding boots, tight fitting dove gray trousers and a heavy black frock coat over a simple white linen shirt with no waistcoat or jacket, as if he had dressed in haste. His bowed head slowly rose. Under the brim of his top hat, Sarah saw a pair of ice blue eyes.
“Pierce!”
Pierce took a step into the shabby room. His anger ratcheted up yet another notch when he saw Sarah back away, putting her friend protectively behind her.
What sounded distinctly like an animal growl slipped past his clenched jaw. Pierce prowled farther into the room.
Sarah held out a small hand defensively. “I’m leaving! I’m leaving! Please, you don’t have to kill me!” she cried out.
Her words brought him up short.
“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” he ground out.
“I know. I know how you sent those arsenic chocolates and how you tried again with the tea. I know you tried to kill me because you are worried I would trap you into marriage. I promise I never had any such intentions! Please, just let me go!”
There was that phrase again…let her go. Never.
“Sarah?” squeaked a frightened Elma from behind her back.
Pierce walked to the front of the room and threw open the window sash. Both girls gasped. Oh god, he was going to throw them out the window! Pierce threw them both an acerbic look before calling down to his footman. Moments later, the lad appeared at the door.
Pierce advanced on the women, ignoring their shrieks of terror. Pierce pulled Elma out from behind Sarah by her upper arm.
“Accompany her back to Mrs. Needham’s.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Elma kicked the footman in the shins and ran back to Sarah. “No! No! I won’t let you hurt her.”
Grabbing Elma by the arm once again, Pierce dragged her away. “Trust me the only pain I intend to inflict on your friend is not the kind she would wish you to witness,” he rasped into her ear. Without another word, he shoved Elma into the footman’s waiting arms with a gesture for them to leave.
Keeping his back turned, he took several deep breaths to calm his growing anger. He turned around just in time to catch Sarah, creeping towards him with an empty chamber pot raised over her head. Effortlessly pushing the pot out of her hands, he wrapped his arm around her small waist, pulling her close. Sarah started to struggle, pounding his broad chest with her fists.
“Enough,” he roared. Sarah stilled.
“On all that is holy, why would you think I am the one trying to kill you?”
“I have proof,” she offered tremulously.
Pierce raised his brow, curious to see what this proof could be.
“In my pocket, I have your note.”
It was incredibly foolish to tell him about the note but Sarah was already beginning to doubt his guilt. Seeing him standing there looking angry but also hurt at her accusations she realized now she had been wrong.
Pierce reached into the deep pocket of her dress. Sarah closed her eyes stifling a moan when the knuckles of his strong hand brushed her thigh. Even through the fabric of the dress and petticoat, she could still feel the warmth of his skin.
Taking a moment to read the note, he looked back at Sarah. “I didn’t write this,” he stated flatly.
“What? No. It has to be you. I recognize the writing. It was left with a box of poisoned chocolates for me. Florence took them out of spite and now she is dead.”
“My love, I will allow the hand is similar, an exceptional copy of my writing, but I can tell you emphatically, this note is not from me.”
Seeing her lingering doubt and confusion, he decided to explain further, her punishment could wait…but not for long.
Picking her up in his arms, he carried her to one of the wooden chairs by the cold fire. Placing her on his lap, he gave a strong look of warning when she tried to leap off. With a sigh, Sarah stayed where she was put.
Holding up the note for her inspection, he said, “While the writing may be a true copy, the card stock is not. If you will recall my original note to you was on heavy cream card stock with the Warrington shield embossed on the front.”
Sarah took the note from his hand. She now noticed what she should have immediately before. The note was on thin cheap paper. Of course a titled gentleman would have his own paper stock.
Still not completely convinced, she offered, “What if you were trying to evade detection? You wouldn’t use your own private paper.”
“If I was trying to evade detection, I would not have signed it “P” which even the simplest of detectives would quickly discern stood for Pierce given our previous acquaintance. Furthermore, when I give you a gift, trust it will not be some humble chocolates. It will be something far more intimate. Something that I could see flash and sparkle against your creamy skin,” he murmured along the slim column of her neck.
Sarah blushed at the inference…and his touch.
“I don’t understand. I have no enemies. It is clear someone killed Florence trying to get to me and they wanted me to think it was you!”
“Do you trust Elma?” he offered.
Sarah thought of Elma’s morbid fascination with murder and crime. She was forever reading those gruesome broadsheets and regaling Sarah with tales of mayhem. It was Elma who brought her the note and convinced her to flee. She also suspiciously disappeared for days after the murder. Sarah shook her head. No. She would not fall prey to these thoughts a second time. “I do. Elma is my friend. We have never quarreled. I cannot imagine even the slightest reason she would have to harm me.”
“Very well then. What about the rest of Mrs. Needham’s household? I believe we can assume it was not Mrs. Needham since a scandal of this nature would only do her business harm.”
“And she is the one who told you I was taken away!”
Sarah’s heart warmed at the reminder. He looked so powerful and strong standing there fighting with the magistrate on her behalf. She could not imagine a safer place than within his protective embrace at that moment. Why had she been so quick to forget?
“True. How about the little parlor maid?”
“Mary? No. Mary might hide away and shirk her duties but Mary is a sweet little thing. It can’t be her. The other servants never took a shine to me because of Florence but I had so little interaction with them I cannot see it would lead to anything this severe.”
Pierce rubbed soft circles on her back. He knew this must be distressing for her. If possible, it was worse for him. There was an unknown threat against the woman he loved. Yes, loved. He realized it now with perfect clarify. His spirited American beauty had completely taken him in…had become almost an obsession. He needed to be near her, to hold her, to protect
her. He could not imagine the rest of his life without her charming presence by his side. Now someone was threatening to steal that happiness from him. He had to figure this out before that unknown shadowy figure succeeded.
Something teased the back of Pierce’s mind. A transient memory.
“What about Victoria?”
“Victoria! No, it couldn’t be.”
Still Pierce could not shake the lingering thought.
“Have you ever discussed me with Victoria?”
Sarah thought of Victoria’s warning against Pierce. Now that he had calmed down, she was reluctant to make him angry again by mentioning the secret society. With a deep, fortifying breath, Sarah hesitantly admitted, “She told me about the Linked Rings Brotherhood.”
Pierce looked at her with surprise. “And just what did she say?”
“She said they were a debauched secret society who liked to take the maidenheads of innocents.”
Sarah braced herself for his wrath and was unprepared for his…laughter?
Pierce threw his head back on a bark of laughter. At Sarah’s affronted look, he offered, “Now is not the time to discuss this. One day soon you will meet the fellows from my club and can judge for yourself their level of debasement.”
Considering the matter settled, Pierce continued with his questions regarding Victoria. “So you had no quarrels with the lass?”
Sarah shook her head. Still, the more Pierce thought about it the more it fit. Victoria was home the day Florence was murdered. It was her statement that caused Sarah to be arrested. Shortly after her visit, Sarah fell ill from an attempted poisoning. But why?
Pierce thought back to the day he met Sarah. Mrs. Needham introduced all her girls, but Victoria was absent. Yet…that elusive memory came to the fore. When Pierce was searching for Sarah the first time, Victoria greeted him with his Christian name, as if they were acquainted. Later, she commented on his fondness for seed cake. Pierce could not imagine how she would have come across such an intimate detail when even Sarah was not aware it. Not wishing to alarm Sarah, Pierce resolved to look further into the matter.
Rising with Sarah still in his arms, he made his way to the door.
“Where are we going?”
“Home.”
“But my things…my ticket to America!”
Pierce’s intense gaze scanned her face. “Leave all of it. You are not going anywhere.”
Piqued at his handling of her, Sarah retorted, “You don’t have the right to tell me where I am or am not going!”
“A situation I intend to rectify as soon as possible.”
Pulling on the lapel of his frock coat, Sarah whispered the true reason why she was fighting returning to his home. “Are you going to punish me for running away?”
With a dark look of promise, Pierce simply said, “Yes.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sarah whimpered from fear and cold. She had been kneeling in the nude on the upholstered bench in his photography studio for a quarter of an hour. When they returned home, Pierce gave her strict instructions to proceed to the third floor. She was to take off all her clothes and wait for him on the bench. Rather, the punishment bench as he called it. If she failed in any of his instructions, the punishment would be far more severe. Sarah believed him. She fled to do his bidding. And now she waited.
After another quarter of an hour, she heard movement on the other side of the door. Pierce entered.
Sarah let out another whimper.
Placing the objects he carried on the nearby table, Pierce slowly walked towards her. Dressed only in black trousers with a bare chest and feet. Without the trappings of civilization, he looked even more powerful and ominous. Primal. Untamed.
Placing a finger under her chin, he raised her head to meet his gaze. Taking in her beautiful green eyes bright with unshed tears, he asked, “Why do you cry?”
“I don’t want to be spanked,” sniffed Sarah. “It hurts.”
“I’m not going to spank you.”
“You’re not?” she asked with a ray of hope.
“No, I have a much more special punishment for you this time.”
“Please, no,” she whined.
“You put yourself in danger. You doubted my care for you. You must be severely punished so you never do either again,” he stated with emotion.
Sarah lowered her head, knowing there was nothing she could say to deter him. It would probably only serve to make her punishment worse.
Pierce looked down at his prostrate little one, bare to his scrutiny. A shining onyx curtain of hair, gently provided some modesty. Falling over her shoulders and covering her breasts. He could just make out the small, pink tips of her nipples poking through. Her slender thighs hid all but the barest hint of the soft curls at their apex. Her full lips trembled as she struggled to appear poised.
Pierce reached behind him for the brownie camera. Taking the small black box in hand, he captured the image. The perfect contrast of wanton innocence. Of fearful anticipation.
Anticipation. Through her fear, he knew there was anticipation. He could smell the heated musk of her arousal in the close room. She may not enjoy the punishment but she loved being punished by him, of that he was certain.
Sarah shivered as she watched him cross to the large wooden cabinet. He returned with a long purple silk sash in his hand…but no riding crop. Her shoulders sagged in relief.
Pierce stood before her. Reaching out, he grasped one thick curl. Pulling the lustrous length across his palm, he looked down into her upturned face. “You are mine. Do you understand that?”
Sarah nodded.
Pierce gave her hair a fierce tug bringing tears to her eyes from the sting.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Yes?”
“Yes, my lord,” she breathed.
Pierce circled around her kneeling form, gathering her dark tresses up into one hand, he twisted…and twisted again. Fisting her hair, he yanked her head back and whispered roughly into her ear, “I’m going to make sure you never forget.”
Sarah’s back arched as his purple silk covered knuckles ran down its center. Stopping at the top curve of her bottom.
“Put your hands behind your back,” he ordered gruffly.
After a moment’s hesitation, Sarah obeyed. She felt the cool silk sash envelope her slim wrists, giving a small gasp when he pulled it tight.
Following Pierce with wide anxious eyes, she watched as he moved across the room to the table by the door. Picking up a delicate porcelain bowl, he returned to her side. Placing the bowl on the bench, Sarah could see it was filled with whipped butter.
“Eyes on me,” he instructed.
Once she complied, Pierce placed his hands on his hips. Slowly, watching every nuance of her reaction, he moved to unbutton his trousers. The fabric slid down his muscled thighs. His rigid shaft mere inches from Sarah’s mouth. She stared. Fascinating by its almost sinister appearance. It was so long and thick. The bulbous head adding to the girth. The shaft widened at the base, ending in a tuft of black hair. She watched as his strong hand wrapped around the staff, slowly moving up and down its length. A small drop of cream formed at the head. Without thought, Sarah licked her lips.
Picking up the bowl, he scooped some of its creamy contents onto the tips of his fingers.
“Open your mouth.”
Her lips fell open, slightly.
“Open. Your. Mouth.”
Sarah opened her mouth, wide.
Pierce pushed his fingers into her mouth. Coating her tongue with the butter. He scooped up more and repeated the gesture.
“This is sweet cream butter,” he explained.
Sarah could taste the honeyed cream as it melted on her tongue.
“You are going to use your mouth to coat my cock with the cream.” Then leaning in close to her mouth he taunted, “Do a good job, little one. It is the only balm you will get before I force my cock deep into your bottom.”<
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Sarah moaned afraid to speak. She tried shaking her head, pleading with her eyes.
Pierce gripped her jaw, pushing her mouth open with one hand before placing a final dollop of sweet butter cream on her tongue with the other. A small drop of melted butter slid down her bottom lip. Pierce caught it with the tip of his finger, bringing it to his own mouth. “Sweet,” he murmured with a wink. “Time to start your punishment.”
Keeping his hand on her jaw, Pierce placed the head of his cock between her lips. Feeling the cooling cream caress the sensitive tip, he pushed further in. “Swirl your tongue around the shaft,” he commanded. His voice hoarse with desire.
Sarah struggled to accept his cock. It filled her whole mouth. Her tongue swished under the shaft as she struggled to breathe through her nose. The heavy head pressed further in, hitting the back of her throat, causing her to jerk forward on a gag, her teeth scraping against his shaft. Pierce only groaned and thrust his hips forward. Sarah could feel the melted butter slide down her throat as the head of his cock followed, choking her.
She pulled on her binds in a desperate attempt to free her hands so she could push him away. She arched her back, moving her head away. Pierce fisted her hair and forced her head forward. Sarah’s scream was muffled as his shaft slid past her unwilling lips, pushing, thrusting, pushing until it thrust deep. Her nose touched his abdomen. He relented, pulling free. One frantic gasp of air, and his cock was back in her mouth. His hand at the back of her head, pushing her forward. Her tongue swirled and swished, trying to push him out to no avail. Once again, he pulled free.
Scooping the last of the butter, he placed it in her gaping mouth, “Last chance to coat my cock,” he warned. Sarah desperately tried to obey, pushing the dollop of butter around in her mouth, over and under his shaft. “Good girl.”
Pierce gently pulled free. Using the hand fisted in her hair, he pushed her head all the way down to the upholstered bench. The movement caused her to teeter forward on her knees.
“Put your bottom in the air. Arch your back,” he ordered harshly with a quick warning smack on her exposed bottom cheek.
With her mouth free, Sarah began to cry and plead. “Please, I’m begging you don’t do this! I promise I will never run away again!”