“Isn’t it a little unsavoury to seduce someone while they’re drunk?”
A hearty chuckle rumbled in Vaughan’s throat. “He near as dammit begged me for it. He held my head.” He laced his fingers through her hair to demonstrate. “Shoved me down to his loins and God…the noises he made. It wasn’t just once either. He’d been holding onto that need for a long time, and it all came pouring out.” He licked his lips.
“Urgh!” Bella grimaced. “Yuck.”
“I don’t mind the taste myself, and nor do you given you always swallow, so cease your face pulling.”
“Spitting never occurred to me. Go on, what happened afterwards?”
“Oh, he woke the next day, panicked and ran all the way back to England.”
“What about the hair?” Bella asked. She opened the locket to look at the blond curl trapped behind the oval of glass. “Is it from his head or his thatch?”
“Wouldn’t you just love to know.” He tapped her nose.
“Yes. That’s why I asked.”
“Get me a drink, and maybe I’ll drop you a hint.”
She crossed to where the port was kept and claimed the bottle along with two glasses. Vaughan shook his head when she attempted to hand him one, and claimed the bottle instead. He removed the cork with his teeth and spat it towards the fire, then took a long draft of the contents, before pouring some for her.
“Head,” he confirmed after a moment. “He trims what’s below too short.”
“I ought to have known that.”
He shrugged.
Bella settled back upon his lap. “So, that was the first time you sucked him.”
His brow wrinkled, and he lifted one brow. “Did I say that?”
“You sort of did.”
“I don’t think I did. I said he let his guard down enough to want it to happen. That’s not at all the same thing. In any case, it wasn’t the first time. There was another occasion, but if you ask Lucerne he’d swear otherwise. He’d say it was a woman, a whore who roused his passions that night.”
“I think he can tell the difference between you and a whore.”
A slow smile spread across Vaughan’s lips, tweaking up the corners. “Why thank you for that. As a matter of fact, I agree. I think Lucerne knew perfectly well who was sucking him. It was just easier to believe the alternative. In his defence, he was blindfolded.”
“Then it’s hardly a surprise he didn’t know it was you. That’s a cruel trick.”
“He knew.”
She widened her eyes and gave him a hard stare.
“He had his hands in my hair, and all over my face. I didn’t attempt to disguise myself in any way.”
“Your hair is long enough it could easily be mistaken as a woman’s.”
Vaughan sighed, and wound a lose strand of her hair around his finger. “Perhaps, but the same isn’t true of my stubble. And there’s scent to take into consideration. Think about it, Bella. If I deprived you of your sight.” He covered her eyes with his hands. “Then I lined up with six other people, are you saying you couldn’t pick me out of the group just from my scent and what I could do with my tongue?”
“I could recognise you among thousands.”
“Then why presume Lucerne couldn’t. I assure you, he knew exactly who was kissing his cock. It’s why he kept his eyes closed even after the blindfold came off. That way he didn’t have to admit another man had just made him come, and he’d enjoyed every second of it. It meant he could still look me in the eye without turning puce. Lucerne doesn’t like conflict, remember. Not with other people, and not within himself. I make him question everything. I turn his wants on their heads.”
She considered, with head tilted to one side. “You make everyone topsy-turvy. I bet Lucerne thinks of it sometimes, though. When he’s alone and it’s quiet, and he’s seeking solace.”
Vaughan formed his fist around her index finger and made a lewd up and down motion. “This sort of solace?”
“Maybe.”
He grinned, but the smile faded fast. “That’s assuming he thinks about either of us. He’s at Lauwine with Wakefield. I imagine the good captain does his utmost best to persuade Lucerne neither of us exist.”
It saddened her to think that was the case. Much as life was simpler when she wasn’t one point of a triangle, she was still sorry it had all ended, and sorrier still that Lucerne had ended up alone. She could not imagine Wakefield being glad company at present, not so soon after burying Louisa. Also, Wakefield had a baby to care for. It was unlikely his skills as a soldier had prepared him for that, and she knew from past experience how reluctant he was to get his sisters involved in his day to day life. The crystal clear image that formed in her mind of Lucerne and Wakefield somehow juggling little Louisa between them and folding kite-shaped napkins made her laugh out loud. She covered her mouth with her fingers, but couldn’t contain the giggle, prompting her to bow her head and hide against Vaughan’s shoulder.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have any more port,” Vaughan suggested, taking the glass from her fingers and lowering it to the floor. For himself, he took another long draft from the bottle.
Her giggles subsided soon after. “How did you know loving men was a thing,” she asked, quite soberly. “Something must have put you on to the idea. I’d never imagined such a thing until the first time I saw you and Lucerne kiss. It was quite the revelation, not to mention one of the most delicious things I’d ever seen.”
“First of all, I contest the word love. Love isn’t what you’re asking me about. It’s perfectly possible to love anybody. What you actually want to know is how I knew men fucked one another.”
She bowed her head to concede the point.
“The answer is perfectly apparent if you simply look around the castle and pay attention to the many carvings. There are cocks aplenty on display. Also, my grandfather had an especial penchant for Greek pottery. If you wish to explore the delights of that, you will find it in the sideboard over there.” He waved his hand in the direction of a dark wood bureau standing against the western wall. “There’s one particular piece amongst it that inspired many wild fantasies.”
“What does it depict?”
He rolled his eyes. “As if it’s necessary to ask. Go and look at it, if you need more insight.”
“Actually, I prefer to stay here on your lap. It’s comfortable, warm and you’re being surprisingly amiable.”
He glowered as though she’d just spooned him a mouthful of wintergreen linctus. “It must be all that seasonal good will affecting me.”
“It’s more likely the effects of that freezing cold swim you took that has addled you. In any case, I still haven’t been kissed beneath the mistletoe. Do you think you could oblige before you revert to your normal spiteful self. I still have a sprig of it somewhere hereabouts.”
She located the cutting down the side of the armchair, looking rather bedraggled. Most of the berries were squashed.
“I think we can find ourselves a better kissing bough than that,” Vaughan remarked. He pushed her off his lap and rose to cast her sprig into the fire. The remaining berry exploded with a whistling pop. “Now to bed.” He banked the coals, and set the guard before the hearth, minus his still wringing wet clothes. Those he left in a heap for someone else to find and deal with.
“Do you mean we should retire and sleep, or are you inviting me to yours?” Bella asked. Her chamber was still located at the opposite end of the castle to his. Only he and Niamh, when she was at home, occupied the South Tower. Bella’s room was situated at the north end of the great hall, almost among the rafters.
“I thought you wanted kissing. If I’m to do that properly, it’ll take a little while.”
She skipped past him in her haste to reach his room. Even after living here together for nearly two months, he still rarely invited her to his bed, or even his room. It was still very much his private domain. And as he’d proved on numerous occasions, it wasn’t necessary for them to h
ave a mattress beneath them to fuck.
If there was anything she truly missed Lucerne for, it was the fact he was always eager to share his bed and snuggle together like spoons.
Bella reached the master bedroom a little ahead of Vaughan. The fire was lit, as were several candles. Vaughan’s man slipped away quietly the moment she entered, whereupon she sashayed straight over to his massive blackened oak bed. In addition to the thick brocade curtains, the posts had been wound and draped with holly and mistletoe, which leant a very pagan air to the room. There were also bundles of rosemary, and loops of ivy and bright red ribbons. His room was more festive than most of the castle, which had been rather frugally decorated as no guests were expected. Normally this time of year was parties and gatherings from St Nicholas’s Day until Twelfth Night, but Vaughan was still determinedly avoiding society. His one concession was an agreement to attend the Church Service tomorrow. Since the church was literally over the bailey wall, it could hardly be avoided. When in residence, the Marquis was expected to turn out, do his duty and set an example to the commoners, even if said Marquis was a notorious rakehell.
Vaughan entered the room behind her.
“That’s a lot of berries to get through,” she observed. She’d counted a dozen before she’d even finished one bed post.
“Then there’ll be a lot of kissing,” Vaughan remarked. Tradition dictated that a berry be plucked for every kiss, and that when all the berries were gone, the kissing stopped.
“We may still be here on Twelfth Night.”
“Not likely, Bella. I’ll be leading the wassailing in the orchard.”
She snorted in disgust. “It’s a waste of good cider to go throwing it around, not to mention the horrendous noise you’ll make blowing horns and firing pistols.”
He caught hold of her around the waist and squeezed her tight. “You’re only jealous because you’re not allowed to be involved.”
She twisted in his embrace. “Then make me not care.”
“How…shall…I…ever…do…that?” he said, filling the space between each word with a kiss—to her knuckles, and her palms, then her cheeks and finally her lips.
Bella sighed as their tongues brushed, and an excitement tingled in her throat and rolled down into her chest. She held tight to his body, refusing to let him go. “More,” she pleaded. She was fool and she knew it, but she couldn’t help herself. She craved his affection—hell, just his attention—like an addict craved his opium pipe. It didn’t matter how much or how little he gave of himself, she would always, always want more.
Bella loosened the belt of his robe, and then got down on her knees. The shirt she had brought him had been of the ordinary, day time variety, because though she’d opened several drawers, she hadn’t located an actual nightshirt. He was only half-hard despite their intimate waltz their tongues had performed. Bella circled his shaft with her palm, then took the rest into her mouth. Normally when she pleasured him thus, he grew hard within moments, but though she sucked and teased him with her tongue, she couldn’t seem to bring his staff to life. Evidently his renewed craving for Lucerne was counteracting any feelings of desire he felt for her.
“You’re not interested in me,” she huffed, sitting back on her haunches and looked upon him. They’d squabbled and fought, thrown things at one another and turned the air blue with their name calling. They’d shared quieter genuinely passionate moments and took comfort in one another’s bodies when their woes had simply been too great to process in any other way. They’d thrown food and crockery, coupled over tables, on the floor and on the stairs, but never had she failed to get a rise out of him.
“I’m plenty interested in you.”
“Your cock seems to think otherwise. She gave him a little squeeze, and then sighed when it failed to produce the desired response.”
“Come here, you silly fool.” Vaughan pulled her onto her feet again. “I just need to piss, Bella. It’s a simple function of mechanics, that’s all. It not about hating you or not wanting you, or craving Lucerne’s company more. I just have a full bladder. I did just drink most of a bottle of wine.”
“Oh,” she sighed. “Should I fetch the chamber pot?”
He chuckled and brushed the curls she’d arranged delicately around her face behind her ear. “Only if you’re desperate to watch. Otherwise, I’m perfectly capable of taking myself to the privy.”
She was half tempted to follow when he turned around and headed to that chamber. She’d never seen a man urinate before. She’d heard plenty, because there was often a chamber pot on hand at dinner gatherings, located behind a discrete screen of course. Men, particularly aristocratic ones, seemed particularly lazy in that regard. They’d carry on their conversations at the same time as they relieved themselves. Actually, maybe nosiness was the cause, rather than indolence. Heaven forbid they miss some piece of tattle, or worse still gave the other diners an opportunity to talk about them.
Vaughan returned promptly enough. He’d discarded the shirt he’d been wearing and now only had on the belted robe. “You’re still dressed, Miss Rushdale.”
“You’re still soft.”
Vaughan responded with a low chuckle. He wrapped his hand round his shaft and within a few strokes his ramrod was jutting straight towards her. Bella hurriedly shed her outer garments.
“The chemise too,” he insisted.
She loosened the various drawstring fastenings and let the garment fall at her feet. There were only her stockings covering her legs now, every other inch of her was displayed to his view. Coquettishly, she clutched one of the bed posts, bent forward at the waist and wiggled her derriere at him. She’d determined early on in their relationship, that he found that part of her anatomy most appealing. Leastways, it was inevitably the part that received the most attention from him. Vaughan rarely fucked her in a fashion that could be considered normal. Most often he came in her mouth, over her breasts or in her bottom. In the past, he’d always claimed that was because she belonged to Lucerne, but as that was definitely no longer true, she could only conclude that he preferred things this way.
Vaughan’s hands landed on her arse, and squeezed. He cosied up close and teasingly rubbed his cock between her plump cheeks. “Are you wet for me, Bella?” His hands closed over her breasts, supporting their weight as he kneaded them, and twisted her nipples into rigid points. “You’re always so willing, but then a whore’s life always suited you, didn’t it? You’ve always been happiest when there was a man around willing to repeatedly prick you.”
“I like it when you prick me. You do it best of all.”
“That—” he said, pausing to suck deeply at the pulse point in her neck, “—is because I know what goes on in here.” He tapped the side of her head. “I have a toy hereabouts that I think you might like.”
“A toy? You mean like a doll or a carved animal? Or do you mean an instrument?”
“It is carved, and it’s an instrument. An instrument of pleasure, that is.”
“What is it? Show me.”
“Soon, Bella. Soon.” He found her clit and stroked it with the pad of his thumb, filling her with excitement.
“Turn around. Sit on the edge of the bed.”
She did so, parting her legs wide, and looking up at his intense expression. Vaughan had always been a particularly beautiful man, with his dark hair and those piercing violet eyes, but it was also a cruel and beastly sort of beauty. He was refined, yes, but a little wild too, and most assuredly wicked. One could never be entirely sure what he was going to do.
“Shall I show you? I think you’ll like it.” He revealed a wand, some twelve to fifteen inches in length, made as far as she was able to tell from jade or some similar semi-precious stone. The shaft was carved with a pattern of lilies, and one end smoothed and rounded so as to resemble a man’s private parts. As she watched he covered it with a layer of lotion. There was no question as to what he intended.
“I thought you meant to…” She began. She had
intended to say swive me yourself, but he chose that moment to push the head of the shaft inside her, and the rest of her sentence lost out to a groan as her sheath stretched to accommodate the jade shaft.
“Bella…always so eager to have a cock stuffed in your puss.”
“I was looking for something warmer, and more supple.” Her gaze fastened on his now impressively erect cock. It was hugging his belly and twitching in delight over the sight of her being violated with the wand. Trust his cock to stand over the idea of frustrating her. He liked nothing better than to torment her. And she unfortunately encouraged him, by always coming back for more no matter how horrid he was.
“Oh, don’t scowl so, Bella. Don’t pretend you don’t like the feel of it filling you up. I know it’s not so.” He continued to fuck her with swift and decisive motions that had her rocking to meet his every thrust.
Bella didn’t consider it a matter of like or dislike. It was more that she was irritated with herself for supposing he’d actually couple with her as any other man would.
“Vaughan I want you, not this cold thing.” It was no longer particularly cold as the heat of her body had quickly warmed it, but it would never be as vital as actual flesh and blood.
“Heavens, vixen. Must you always be in such a rush? You’ll have me soon enough.”
“I want you now.” She reached up to him hoping to clasp her hands around his neck and draw him down on top of her, but Vaughan stayed out of reach.
“Take hold of the staff,” he insisted, guiding her hands onto its base. “Keep working it now, Bella.”
“So you can sit back and watch, I suppose.”
“No.” He caught hold of her legs, and lifted them so that her knees were as high as his ears. Then hooked her legs over his shoulders. Bella squealed as she found her weight supported on her shoulder blades. Her hand stilled, though the jade wand remained inside her.
“What are you doing?”
Vaughan forwent the use of words in favour of a demonstration. His lips brushed across her inner thigh, tickled the cheeks of her arse and found the tight whorl of muscle that was so clearly his target. Bella trembled as he lavished attention on her anus. She squirmed, unable to stop herself liking it. It was wrong. She still believed that, even after he’d taken her there so many, many times. But, oh…oh, how it felt good.
The Ghosts of Christmas Past Page 6