When Love Comes Calling: Two Short Stories

by Samantha Kane

  “Yes.” Dom got up from where he’d been leaning against the desk and walked over to sit next to Ben. He threw an arm companionably around the other man’s shoulder. “I’m no good at descriptions, Ben, you know that. The sky is blue, the grass is green, music is loud, and sugar is sweet. But when you see her, you’ll understand. She’s no ordinary debutante. I want her, Ben. And I want you to want her too.”

  Ben just looked at him dubiously.

  A week after the Merwell’s ball, Clarissa Welliston sat down next to her mother with an inward sigh. She knew she wouldn’t be allowed to sit here long. Either her mother or her best friend Minda would make her get up and parade around, as if one of the so-called gentlemen here would suddenly see the light and decide she was more interesting than her money or her breasts. She hadn’t had a conversation with a man who looked higher than her chest in over three weeks. The whole affair wearied her. Just last week at the Earl and Countess of Merwell’s she’d stepped outside for a breath of fresh air and overheard several young gentlemen discussing her in less than favorable terms. A piglet stuffed with money they’d called her, the little dandified jackanapes. She’d had to bite her fist in her hiding place to keep from storming up to them and telling them in no uncertain terms that they would never have a chance at either her money or her person.

  Not that Clari didn’t want a man. She was desperate for a man. Experimenting by herself was all well and good, but she wanted a fine, strong cock between her legs, the real thing. Too bad marriage had to come with it. Glancing around the ballroom, Clari wasn’t even sure there was a fine, strong cock here this evening. At least at Merwell’s there had been several gentlemen present who were pleasant to look at and who appeared to have the necessary parts and knew what to do with them. Tonight at the Smythe musicale there was a definite lack of male pulchritude.

  Lost in her thoughts, it took Clari a moment to realize she was looking down at a pair of highly polished men’s shoes planted directly in front of her. They were attached to a long pair of legs, and Clari’s eyes traveled up every inch of their heavily muscled length, stopping for only one forbidden moment on the promising bulge in the front of his trousers. Her gaze passed over slim hips and broad shoulders until she finally looked into the extremely handsome face of the man standing expectantly before her. He was extraordinary. He looked a little foreign with his olive skin and dark brown eyes, and his black hair was left a little long to sweep over his broad forehead. His nose was long and strong, quite Roman actually, like some of the pieces in the museum. His lips were thin but finely sculpted, with a deep dimple at the bow. She could see a shadow of a beard on his face though it was early in the evening. His overt masculinity made a shiver chase up Clari’s spine. At the subtle movement, his mouth quirked knowingly and Clari’s eyes snapped to his in mortification. The gleam there confirmed her fears—he knew she was attracted to him, and he found it amusing.

  A sharp female voice spoke, and Clari started with surprise. She hadn’t even noticed their hostess beside him.

  “My dear Miss Welliston, Viscount Lethbridge has requested an introduction. How thrilling for you, I’m sure!” Mrs. Smythe trilled. Clari gritted her teeth. It didn’t take an exceptionally sharp intellect to intuit what Mrs. Smythe wasn’t saying—that Clari should be grateful any man was interested in her enough to ask for an introduction, much less this man. Clari had heard the other girls speak of him, of his looks and his wealth and his eligibility. They had also whispered about his shocking sexual excesses.

  “Miss Welliston,” Viscount Lethbridge said, his deep voice causing things low in Clari’s stomach to tighten in excitement.

  “My lord,” she responded politely, holding out her hand. He took it, and even through her glove and his she could feel the heat of the embrace. Her hand shook slightly, but he didn’t release it. He slowly bent over and kissed her wrist—kissed it, not just a polite bow, but an actual pressing of his lips against her. The tremors deep within her intensified. As he rose from his bow his eyes caught hers and the look simmered with hunger. Clari was shocked, titillated and bemused. What on earth? Surely he wasn’t interested in her?

  “Miss Welliston, would you care to take a turn about the room with me?” the viscount asked, his demeanor pleasant while at the same time quite determined. He looked deferentially at Clari’s mother beside her.

  “Oh yes, Clari dear, do go on with the viscount,” her mother quickly urged, a hand on her arm shoving her up. The avaricious delight on her face made Clari inwardly cringe.

  “Of course, my lord,” Clari said more forcefully than necessary as she yanked her arm from her mother’s grip, “I’d be delighted.” She glared at her mother before turning a composed countenance to the viscount, who raised a single brow, not even trying to hide his amusement. He took Clari’s hand and placed it on his arm and she nearly groaned out loud. Good God, he was firm and sleek with muscle under his evening clothes. At the thought, Clari could feel the first drop of slick cream slip out of her sex and rub along the suddenly swollen and sensitive lips there. It gave a turn about the room a new, erotic thrill it had never had before.

  Viscount Lethbridge kept one hand over hers on his arm. His thumb ran seductively along the length of her fingers as they strolled to the edge of the crowd, nodding here and there to acquaintances. They didn’t speak to one another until they were walking sedately around the room’s perimeter, as far from the crowd as possible. It lent their stroll a false sense of privacy—all eyes could see them, but few ears could hear them. Clari knew their path was a deliberate one and wondered what the viscount could have to say that required this level of privacy.

  “I have been searching for you, Miss Welliston, for this week past,” he began quietly, his thumb stroking, stroking over her fingers and the back of her hand until she thought she’d go mad. Instead she smiled benignly at Minda in the crowd, who was staring and gesturing wildly, clearing wanting to know what was going on.

  “Have you, my lord? I can’t imagine why. I am not difficult to find.” Her heart was racing. A week. What had happened a week ago to bring her to his attention? She’d never met him before tonight, she was sure of it.

  She sensed his amusement and was unable to resist the urge to glance at him. She did so out of the corner of her eye and caught him doing the same. She quickly looked away, but not before noting the approval in his gaze.

  “No questions as to why?” he asked. The path of his thumb shifted so that he was outlining her fingers, spreading them apart on his arm so that he could ravish the tender, sensitive skin between them with the heat and press of his thumb. Even through the lace of her glove it was overwhelmingly sensual. Clari’s breath caught in her chest.

  “Why?” she managed to ask, though her voice sounded breathless.

  “I saw you at Merwell’s, there in the trees.” His statement left a great deal out, but Clari’s memory filled in the blanks. If he’d seen her he must have been close, and that meant he’d heard what the young men were saying. She felt her face flame with embarrassment.

  “And you wished to find out for yourself what a piglet stuffed with money would look like?” She was proud of her even tone.

  “Hardly,” he drawled. “I have no desire to lay with pork, and I am stuffed with pounds enough of my own.”

  At his response Clari lost her composure. Her eyes flew to his in startled shock. “Lay with…” she gasped.

  His grin was feral and frighteningly arousing. “Oh, yes, Miss Welliston. When I saw your generous form, your dark hair gleaming in the moonlight, I imagined you in my bed, that hair spread across my pillows as I ruthlessly made you mine.”

  Chapter 2

  “…as I ruthlessly made you mine.”

  Lethbridge’s words ran through Clari’s mind yet again as she waited impatiently next to Minda several weeks later. She’d seen him often since then, at dinner parties, balls and other entertainments. Once at a rout that was terribly crowded he’d somehow managed to get h
er lost from her mother and he’d dragged her into a small linen closet and kissed her.

  He kissed as ruthlessly as he pursued her, as ruthlessly as he promised to possess her. He hadn’t bothered with tenderness in spite of her innocence. He’d ravished her mouth with lips and teeth and tongue. His bites had left her lips swollen and red, just short of bleeding, and his tongue learned every corner of her mouth until she had no secrets left. Then he’d stolen her breath, her very thoughts, as his tongue thrust with an insistent rhythm that even inexperienced as she was, she recognized. One hand had gripped her hip while the other found her breast, shaping it firmly and rubbing his thumb over the hard, aching point of her nipple through the thin muslin of her dress. She had moaned in desperation and nearly cried with unfulfilled passion when he’d pulled away roughly and dragged her out of the closet without a word, bringing her back to her mother and departing with a bow.

  He had called on her after the rout. He’d been cool and charming, introducing her to his friend Mr. Benford. Mr. Benford was another male work of art, and the two were like gorgeous bookends on the settee, one dark and dangerous, and one light and, well, dangerous. The air around them had shivered with sexual energy. Clari had done a little shivering as well, remembering Lethbridge’s kiss, longing for more, and still befuddled by the attentions of men such as they. Several times after that Lethbridge had called with Mr. Benford, or Mr. Benford had accompanied the viscount to balls or parties.

  Lethbridge sent her flowers every day. Her mother was in raptures. Suddenly wherever Clari went she was in demand. The gentlemen, young and old, flocked to her side, intent on discovering just what Lethbridge saw in her. Several had made extremely inappropriate advances. When Clari rebuffed them they’d made it clear that most of the ton assumed Lethbridge had already taken her innocence. There had even been veiled references to Mr. Benford, which had taken Clari by surprise. She hardly knew the man, and he had not been pursuing her as Lethbridge had.

  The viscount had sent a note that afternoon indicating he would be at the Duke of Tremont’s ball this evening. He knew she planned to attend. So now she stood here doing what she’d once sworn she’d never do—pine for the presence of a particular man. But what a man. Surely no one could fault her for her fascination. He was witty, charming, sophisticated and handsome. And the fact that he seemed equally fascinated with her made her weak in the knees, another first for her. They liked the same books, he actually listened to her opinions on politics, and she frequently caught him looking at her like a delectable dessert.

  Clari’s foot began to tap impatiently as she paid no heed whatsoever to the conversation of the gentlemen surrounding her and Minda. Where could he be?

  Dom entered the ballroom with a sense of excitement and expectation, which was unusual for him. For the first time in his life he looked forward to spending time with a woman out of bed. She made him laugh, and he admired her practicality and even her reformer Whig political opinions. He planned to spirit Clari away from prying eyes tonight and explain exactly what his interest in her was. With Ben’s help he was going to see if this infatuation and desire he had for her could possibly be more. But first he had to make sure she was aware of his sexual appetites. It would be unfair to enter into an arrangement that would disappoint them both.

  Ben entered the ballroom at his side, and it felt right. It was only natural that Ben was here with him as he fulfilled his fantasies about the delectable Miss Welliston. His friendship was the most important thing in Dom’s life, and had been for some time. He knew that his relationship with Clari, should she accept a more intimate one with him, would supersede his and Ben’s. But he also knew that Ben would always be an integral part of any relationship he chose to pursue.

  He saw her through the crowd, her presence calling to him as it had since that first night. His cock ached at the sight of her, at the knowledge of what he had planned. Dom walked toward her, making a circle around the room. Suddenly he felt a hand on his arm, slowing him down. When he turned he was surprised to see it was Ben.

  “Dom, a moment,” he murmured, and looking around he steered Dom towards an empty corner, behind some potted palms. The light was dim in the ballroom, and few would see or hear them there.

  After pulling Dom behind a palm Ben let go of his arm and looked away, obviously gathering his thoughts. Dom felt his chest tighten in anxiety. Was Ben going to try to talk him out of this? He’d had nothing but praise for Clari after meeting her, both for her wit and intelligence and for her beauty. Like Dom, Ben was attracted to her uniqueness.

  “What is it, Ben?” Dom’s voice was grave, and Ben looked up quickly.

  “Oh, no, Dom, it’s nothing like that, nothing bad.” Dom breathed a sigh of relief. Ben smiled lopsidedly, a little abashed. “It’s just that I’m not sure how to say what I have to say.” He took a deep breath. “We’ve known each other a very long time, Dom. You are my best friend. You know me as no one else ever has, and I feel I can say the same of you.” He let out a shaky sigh and looked at the floor. When his eyes met Dom’s they were bright with emotion. “What I’m trying to say, and not doing a very good job of it, is thank you.”

  Dom looked at Ben in surprise. Ben laughed self-consciously.

  “I know what tonight means to you, Dom. The fact that you want me to be there…” He sighed again, and Dom knew he was fighting his emotions. “It means a great deal to me. I’ve seen the way you look at her, Dom. You really are in love. Part of me is jealous of you, but the bigger part is overjoyed that you have found your match.”

  Dom stepped closer. “Ben, I never said anything about love. I desire her, but that is all.”

  Ben looked at him askance. “If I truly believed that, I wouldn’t be here with you, Dom. I’ve never seen you react to a woman this way before.”

  Dom felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach, the truth hit him so hard. He was in love with Clari. He reflected on his thoughts when he’d entered the ballroom. He enjoyed her conversation, he’d seen her be kind when she could have been cruel, and he’d seen how she chafed under society’s strictures. He longed to wile away his days talking with her, arguing politics and freeing her from the chains that bound her to propriety. He loved her, and his desire for her now was greater than when he’d only admired her unique beauty.

  Even as he thought it, his heart knew it to be true. And of course Ben had seen it before he had. “Ben, you’ll grow to love her, too—”

  Ben cut him off, shaking his head. “No, Dom, no I won’t. I do like her, and in time I’m sure I shall care for her very much, but I will never love her as you do, nor will she love me as she does you.”

  Dom started to argue, but stopped as Ben shook his head again. “It’s all right, Dom. I think we both knew this day would come. If she won’t accept me in your bed, don’t make that a stipulation of the marriage. She may come ‘round later, but I know you. You’ll find satisfaction with her, with or without my help.” He smiled wolfishly. “I would very much like to help, because as you know I enjoy fucking a woman with you, and the idea of fucking your wife is incredibly arousing.” Ben shrugged. “But even if I never do, we shall always be the best of friends, Dom, and I shan’t hold it against her. You shouldn’t either. Not many well-born women would accept such an arrangement, and for a virgin…” Ben shrugged again. “So try to be gentle when you tell her, and try to be understanding if her answer is no.”

  Dom didn’t answer as Ben gently pushed him toward the room. They resumed walking through the crowd as Dom tried to assimilate what Ben had said. He felt like a fool. He’d always assumed that when he fell in love Ben would too. But it wasn’t as if he and Ben were lovers. They were friends who frequently shared sexual experiences, but it was the friendship and not the sex that was important to them. He wanted Ben with him and Clari as a friend. He wanted Clari as his lover. He could see the distinction now, as Ben must have. He felt that their friendship was changing, but the change was a good one, and would suit the
other changes soon to occur in his life.

  By the time they reached Clari, he’d come to terms with what Ben had told him, and the revelation that he loved her. The fact that he accepted it so readily told him more than anything that Ben was right. This was right. When Clari looked up into his eyes, her face open and adoring, her eyes hot with a hunger he wasn’t sure she even understood, any doubts Dom may have harbored were washed away.

  Ben obviously approved of Clari’s looks tonight as well. “She’s marvelous, Dom,” he said and looked back at Clari, who was giving him a rather arch look.

  “Thank you, Mr. Benford,” Clari said pertly, “but Viscount Lethbridge had very little to do with it.”

  Ben laughed. “I’m sure you are correct, Miss Welliston,” he said with a bow. “My apologies for not directing the compliment to the proper source.”

  Clari smiled charmingly, the slight dimple in her cheek peeking out. “Thank you again, Mr. Benford,” she said.

  Ben reached out and tapped her nose. Not only was it slightly crooked, but there was a faint scar across it. “How did this happen?” he asked, flirting. “I’ve been meaning to ask.” Dom was surprised to feel a little jealousy. He’d never been jealous of Ben before.

  Clari shrugged. “A riding accident when I was twelve,” she told him with a touch of chagrin. “The doctor did his best,” she waved a hand in front of her face, “but, well, this is his best.” She grinned ruefully. “You should have seen it right after it happened. Mama was in bed for a month.”

  They all laughed and Dom was relieved to see that Clari was neither self-conscious nor apologetic about her broken nose. Personally he loved it. It made her Clari.

  “Miss Welliston, would you care for some fresh air?” Dom asked politely, wanting her so much he couldn’t wait any longer.

  Clari looked taken aback, but readily agreed. Dom exchanged a glance with Ben, who nodded, and then held out his arm and Clari placed her hand there. He felt his muscles tighten under the warm pressure of her hand, and he imagined her soft touch on his cock.