by Sahara Kelly
Portia perched on the arm of his chair and continued to stare at him. “What on earth is a Chomper? Or should I say who?”
“It’s a what.” He grinned. “A rather large and impressive what, actually. A machine specifically designed to remove layers of dirt, sift them, and separate the things that are larger than a certain size, sliding them into a basket sort of affair while it discards the unwanted residue through a piece of copper duct piping.” He blinked. “Or something like that.”
“How the devil did Mrs. Howell acquire such a thing?”
“Again, pretty much my exact words to her.” He stood and walked to the fire, giving it a poke and stirring the embers to a cheery flame. “She got it as a bribe, she said.”
Portia laughed. “I believe it. She’d take a bribe if it interested her, but she’d never do anything unscrupulous.”
“Agreed. She told me the man who was trying to bribe her wanted her to write another paper on something obscure and let him put his name on it. Apparently he was all but illiterate, yet possessed of a goodly fortune and an aptitude for mechanical wizardry. He wanted to buy himself a scholarly reputation to go along with it.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
“So she told him it was a stupid idea,” continued Burke. “She also told him he was an idiot for not presenting his mechanical ideas to the public, since they were every bit as scholarly and brilliant as a boring old archeology book would be. Even more, if they were useful.”
Portia nodded. “Yes, indeed.”
“So to finish the story, she told me he followed her advice and the result was so successful he told her to keep the machine with his gratitude. Why she named it Mr. Chomper…well, you’ll have to see it to understand. It…chomps.”
Portia huffed out a snort of laughter. “I shall look forward to it.” Her expression sobered. “What did you tell her, James?”
“Not enough.” He ran a hand through his hair, a sense of discomfort tickling at his neck. “She’ll need to know more, Portia. Possibly all of it. We’re asking a lot, and although she immediately understood what I was asking—and agreed—I don’t feel right not filling her in on the details. And another thing…” He looked at her sternly. “She’s not an old lady, by any means. She has met you. She knows you. We can’t hide you away, at all. It won’t work.”
In a move that wasn’t in the least bit graceful, Portia slid from the arm of the chair into the seat with a grunt. “Damn.”
“Quite.”
“I can’t give up working at Harbury, James. You know that. If I do, this whole exercise is pointless.”
“I understand that as well.”
“So where does that leave us? And most importantly, where does that leave Devon?”
She lifted her face to him, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “I can’t let him rot in that damned hell, James. I just can’t.”
In an unusually tender move, Burke knelt before Portia and covered her hand with his. “And we won’t, my dear. I am as committed to freeing him as you are. If you will agree, if you trust me, I believe we should bring Mrs. Howell in on exactly what’s happening.”
“You do? You would share all this with someone we don’t know that well? What if she goes to the Harburys?”
“Why should she? She’s bright, intelligent, good-natured and, from my brief observation of her character, more likely to break the law to right a wrong than follow the law and let villainy go unpunished.”
She sighed. “I trust you. And although my memories of her are a bit vague, I suppose it would be fair to say I liked her. I seldom like people who are untrustworthy. Mama always told me I had a sixth sense at work.” She gave a rueful chuckle. “She had no idea.”
“Very well.” James stood. “Let us see if we can entice Mrs. Howell here for dinner, perhaps tomorrow evening. And then you can make your own decision after spending some time with her.”
“I will probably be working until late. So no dinner for me. It’s Saturday and you know that staff work that little extra to give themselves a Sunday break.”
“All right. She and I will dine and you will arrive when you’re done. How does that sound?”
Portia tilted her head to one side. “You like her, James, don’t you?”
“Honestly? Yes. I found her intelligence charming and her sense of humor slightly off-kilter but appealing, nonetheless.”
“James.” Portia’s lips curved in the beginnings of a smile. “You do like her. Keep this up and I should venture to say that you’re smitten.”
“Smitten? Me? Nonsense, child.” He snorted.
“Hmm.” Portia rose and yawned. “Time will tell, Inspector dear. Time will tell.”
“Go to bed, brat.”
“Yes, sir.”
James had to laugh at the impudent curtsey. What he’d done to end up acting in loco parentis to Portia, he wasn’t quite sure. But he couldn’t have stopped for all the tea in China.
*~~*~~*
Alwynne Harbury enjoyed the pomp and circumstance that accompanied her title and her position as mistress of a grand estate.
But even more, she enjoyed dining in her private parlor, either alone or with one or two select companions.
Tonight, she had invited Stephen Waring to join her. He’d done so more than a few times in the past, and his position with her husband in no way mitigated the social standing bestowed on him by virtue of his connection to the Brandeleighs. He was the son of a Brandeleigh niece, which—although did nothing to put him in line for any part of the massive holdings owned by the family—did elevate his status above that of servant.
Thus barely any comment arose over his dining occasionally with the Lady of the house, especially given the health of the Lord and Stephen’s continuing attention to his care.
The fact that these meals often ended with brandy and fiercely savage sexual congress on the elegant backless couch was nobody’s concern. Besides, who would dare criticize Lady Alwynne?
On this particular evening, the two of them enjoyed a simple meal before the fire. Alwynne had changed into her sapphire blue wrapper and Stephen had shed his jacket and cravat.
They both had snifters of brandy next to their plates at the small table and the atmosphere was warm and relaxed.
The conversation, however, was anything but.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Stephen looked serious as he stared at Alwynne.
She met his gaze, enjoying the handsome lines of his strong face. “Yes, Stephen. I’m sure. You and I both know he’s getting worse. I’m at my wits’ end. I see no other alternative, do you?”
“No.” He sighed. “But I have to confess my discomfort with this solution, my lady.”
She smiled and reached for his hand, turning it and placing hers in it, palm to palm. “Just Alwynne for tonight, Stephen. I’ve told you before. In here, we are just a man and a woman.”
His fingers tightened around hers. “As if I could forget.”
“Then trust me, darling. My two brilliant alchemists will come up with something that subdues him, and with any luck will keep him lethargic most of the day.”
“It’s risky, Alwynne. Lord Harbury’s mind isn’t predictable. His moods vary from moment to moment. He can be calm and cooperative and the next minute he can be violently furious. There’s no pattern that I can discern. It would be easier if there were.”
She sighed. “I know. Believe me, I know. There’s a wild streak in the Harbury family and I believe his accident either accelerated it or turned it into some sort of madness. Certainly his recent actions are enough to qualify him for Bedlam, should I choose to reveal them.”
“But you can’t.”
“I can’t,” she agreed. “Not without doing terrible damage to the Harbury estate and legacy.”
“Way beyond what you need to tell me, Alwynne. You understand that I do have some deep concerns here. My Lord is close to a lunatic sometimes. His actions are inhuman. He shows no remorse. I’m not
a physician, but I have observed and listened to many of them, and my judgment is that your husband is bordering on insanity and showing a decreasing concern for life when put next to his immediate whims. He’s a killer, and we both know it.”
She rose, sighing, and crossed to the fireplace, staring into the flames. “Yes, we do. And if I were to be bluntly honest, I wish him dead. Every time he does something appalling, I wish him dead.”
The flames mesmerized her as her thoughts cascaded from one thing to another, her mind a rat caught in an endless maze of dead ends and impossibilities.
Then she felt warmth on her skin and her spine. Strong arms encircled her and bold hands slipped around the softness of her robe to delve within and find her breasts.
Stephen knew her well—better than she’d realized.
She leaned back against him, relishing the comfort of his heat and the gentle caresses teasing her flesh, sending shivers through her as he caught her sensitive nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.
She closed her eyes as he toyed with her, welcoming the rush of sensation flowering in her body, loving the dampness forming between her thighs as her body responded to his deliberate arousal.
She loved this, the prelude to sex, the knowledge of what pleasures were to come at the hands of a skilled lover. Stephen was unquestionably skilled. The most skilled man she’d had in her bed in years.
“It’s not really going to change much.” She arched her back, pressing her breasts into his hands.
“I don’t want to change anything.” He nipped her neck, the exact spot that made her shiver. “I don’t want anything from you, Alwynne. I’ve told you that. I don’t want your money, your estate or—forgive me—you as my wife. All I want, all I need…is you beneath me. You touching me. You welcoming me inside you. What we have is more than enough for me.”
She closed her eyes as one of his hands drifted over her belly, stroking her, petting the softly rounded flesh. “Some would say you lack ambition.”
“They are quite wrong. I have lots of ambitions. Right now I have one very driving ambition.”
The hard pressure against her buttocks punctuated his statement. “Really.” She smiled.
“Oh yes. Really. I want to fuck you. And you’d better agree because within a few minutes I’m going to throw you down on that couch and do precisely what I want with you, with or without your approval.”
His fingers found her, delving between the lips of her sex, fondling her and bringing hot wetness from her body to moisten his hand and her thighs.
“You won’t get an argument from me, Stephen. But one suggestion…bed. My suite. Let me take care of a couple of things here…” She turned in his arms and reached down to grasp the solid length of his cock. “And then we can explore exactly what it is you want to do with me.” She squeezed. “And perhaps what I want to do to you.”
She felt the throb as he raised an arm, grasped her hair at the back of her scalp and tugged her head backward.
“Don’t make me wait…I hunger for you.”
“The feeling is mutual, I assure you.” Regretfully she let him go. “Give me a few moments. I promise only a few.”
“Very well.” He kissed her then, hard, passionately, thrusting his tongue against hers and taking her sigh as she moaned into his mouth. “There’s more where that came from. Hurry.”
“I will.”
He released her and walked away, looking back only when he reached the door. “I mean it. I want you now.”
“Go. I’ll be there within a few moments.” She screened the fire as she spoke, even though the servants would clear the remnants of her meal and tidy the room. There were some things people did on instinct, and for Alwynne it was to make sure Harbury never burned down. At least not by her carelessness.
As the door closed, she gave the screen a last nudge into place and then quickly walked to her bookshelves. A light touch to two well-worn volumes and a secret compartment clicked open.
There, inside, was a small coil of tubing tipped with an end that looked more like a part of a pipe. In fact it was, and Alwynne put it to her lips as she opened a small valve and took a couple of coils of tubing off the hook.
Then she breathed in her special regeneration vapors and once more closed her eyes as the warm rush of heat flooded her from toes to eyebrows. Her body shivered with pleasure, heat ignited between her legs and her inner muscles clenched against a spasm of need.
God, she needed Stephen inside her, stretching her, fucking her until she was exhausted.
This sexual greed seemed stronger these days, even though her youthful looks were still maintained to perfection by this magic gas. She had noticed her desire growing, her need to climax reaching almost savage proportions on occasion.
But then again, she’d never known a lover quite like Stephen. Strong, handsome and endlessly inventive, he had introduced her to a kind of raw lovemaking that had shocked and enthralled her.
Of course she wanted him more and more. What rational woman wouldn’t?
Sometimes, though, she caught herself thinking strangely erotic thoughts. Of late, she’d desired more and more sex, in bolder and more creative ways. And Stephen had obliged.
As she closed up her secret cabinet and turned down the lamps, she wondered what he had in store for her this night.
Later, as her naked body was pressed against the icy cold glass of her bedroom window while Stephen fucked her from behind, lifting her quite off her feet with his fierce thrusts, she knew.
There were colors dancing in front of her eyes as she screamed and let go yet again, falling into a release that shattered her body into a million diamond shards.
It was almost painful, this exquisite ecstasy racking her with mighty spasms. And yet, within moments of catching her breath, she craved even more…
*~~*~~*
Mary O’Malley couldn’t know that her thoughts ran along lines similar to an aristocrat of the first rank, not two miles from where she stood. As far as she was concerned, the woods were dark and cold and empty but for her and Eldon.
It was as he had predicted. They’d sent the girls off to bed with bellies full of hearty food and two small glasses of ale. It was enough to set them yawning and dismissing them for the night had been accomplished with ease.
There was nothing easy about the two of them now, thought Mary. Her skirt was high on her waist, her breasts loosened from their tight bodice. Eldon took her fiercely, just the way she liked it, hard, fast and with great enthusiasm. His cock thrust again and again, forcing her back against the trunk of the tree against which he’d pushed her a short while before.
The clearing was almost pitch black, which added to her heightened excitement. He was relentless, fucking her with the power of a finely tuned steam engine, near to bruising her as he clutched her soft thigh and pushed it wide and further upward on his hip.
She was splayed for him, her pussy heated from within and cooled instantly as the chill of the night refused to surrender to their private inferno.
His cock went so deep it was almost painful and yet she could not get enough. One hand clung to him as her back arched toward his body and the other dug into the skin of his back as she dug her hands beneath his rumpled shirt to find his warmth.
Her breasts took a pounding, his clothing abrading the hard and violently sensitive nipples and layering arousal on top of excitement on top of lust. She moved with him now, taking her own rhythm and meshing it with his to take them both deeper into the maelstrom surrounding them.
“Fuck me, woman…” Eldon panted, grunting as his body pummeled Mary’s. “Fuck you’re good. Let go. Come for me. Get that cunt shuddering. Fuck me, bitch…”
Meaningless words, lacking anything resembling coherent conversation. But they were just what Mary needed. She growled, leaned close and bit him, hard, in the meaty flesh of his now-bare chest. Then she let the trunk behind her take her weight as she clung to him and swung both legs up around his hips, clampin
g his groin to hers, locking his cock deep within her—and let her world explode.
Someone was crying out…it must be her. Or maybe it was him, since she could feel his seed pumping now, hot as lava, filling her as he shuddered and held her prisoner against the rough wood.
Over and over again, more thrusts, and another explosion. She moved a tiny bit and it was enough to send her lower body into a second paroxysm. Her gasp caught at the scream of surprise in her throat and she almost choked.
“Fuck, Eldon…oh fuuuuck…”
He held her through the final shattering moments, still buried within her, then—finally—they peeled themselves apart.
“You’re still the best, Mary.” Eldon refastened his breeches and began to button his shirt once more.
“And your cock is still bigger than the rest of ‘em, Granville.” Mary ruthlessly ripped a small piece of fabric from her underskirt and cleaned herself with it.
“Something a man always loves to hear.”
“And we always tell them, but this time I mean it.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Honest.”
“Thank you.” He finished tidying himself, fiddling with his cravat, then sighing and letting it tumble into a loose knot. “So what are you doing here? We have some conversation pending, I think, now that we’re alone.”
She nodded and took the arm he offered, ready for a relaxing stroll now that the itch was off her loins. “A bit of a holiday first. With the girls. Sharing their room helps with expenses.”
“That makes sense,” approved Granville.
“Then I plan to look around for a small place of my own. Which explains why I’m conserving my coin at the moment.”
There was silence for a minute or two as they walked back toward the lights of the village. Around them the wind picked up and sighed its way through bare branches, a reminder of the winter not far away.
“I might be able to help with that.”
Granville’s voice, his tone, surprised her. He was serious. This wasn’t the wicked bachelor searching for a woman to enjoy for the night. This was another side of him she’d not seen.