by Juniper Bell
“Come here.” He reached for Candy’s bridle and urged her closer. She obeyed. Did all females yield to the master’s touch? “Closer. Come now.”
He maneuvered my horse so the two of us were next to each other, as close as we could get without squeezing my legs in their sidesaddle. With both bridles held in one hand, he leaned over and cradled my cheek with his other hand. Strong and warm, with a slight roughness on the palm, that hand tilted my face toward him. His intent black gaze studied every inch of my countenance.
“Beautiful Miranda,” he murmured. I flushed warm. I knew well how unbeautiful I was.
“You don’t believe me? I’ve been bewitched by you since the first moments I noticed you, despite your brown garb and deliberate attempts to remain invisible. I admit it worked for a short while. It took me longer than usual to notice you. At least a day.”
One corner of my mouth quirked up. I searched his face but saw nothing but desire and concentration on that dark visage. “And my scar?”
“What of it?”
“Is it beautiful too?” I challenged him.
“As it is part of you, I declare it to be just as beautiful as the rest of you.” And with that, he firmly brought his lips onto mine, still moist and swollen from their efforts.
Chapter Nine
Miranda tasted even more wonderful than the Marquis had dreamed. Those full, erotically curved lips held the flavor of wild blackberries, the softness of feather down, the unruliness of an untamed horse. Her response was utterly satisfactory. Surprise at the sudden intrusion of his mouth, then an eager welcome that nearly made him come off his horse. A shooting flame of desire had him plunging his tongue into her mouth, savoring the slick inner walls, the slight roughness of her tongue. Even though it had been so recently sucked dry, his cock strained against his breeches. His blood roared in his ears. God, he could take her right here.
He tore away, glancing around to make sure no stray farmers or shepherds were in the vicinity. “Come,” he said. “I’ll take you to one of my favorite places.”
She nodded and put her hand to her mouth in a trembling gesture that made his heart jump. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No one else has ever kissed me like that,” she said frankly.
“So you’ve been kissed before?” His quick stab of disappointment surprised him. He’d been with hundreds of women. What cared he about a mere kiss?
“Years ago,” she said dismissively. “By a boy.”
“If it was years ago, you must have been a mere girl.” He clucked to his stallion and both horses began moving. He set a slow pace so he could get a grip on his lust.
“Fifteen.”
He raised an eyebrow. If she was a Hampton, of good family, and kissing boys at fifteen, his curiosity was even more aroused. “Your parents allowed it?”
“My parents died when I was twelve. And I only kissed him once, because I wanted to make sure he was the right boy for me to marry.”
“Marry?” He didn’t like hearing that part. It seemed he had strong feelings about her marrying. She ought to marry someone who understood her true nature, not someone she’d kissed only once.
“We intended to marry as soon as we could obtain consent. But that never happened.” She pressed her lips together as if to contain any further confidences. The sight of her lush lips held to a straight line made him want to tumble her off the horse and kiss her until she forgot all her worries.
“Just as well,” he said jauntily. “I’d hate to have to lure you away from a jealous husband.”
She shot him a startled glance, as if debating whether to take offense, then burst out into a joyful peal of laughter. “Do you hold nothing sacred?”
“Indeed I do,” he answered promptly. “I hold sacred the obligation to bring untold pleasure to anyone brave enough to bed me.” He winked. “I hold sacred the right to do whatever I choose with my person so long as no one is harmed.”
“Harmed? Don’t you mean hurt?”
“Not precisely, no. Some things might hurt but do no harm.”
“Like…what sort of things?”
He looked over at her in surprise. Wide-eyed and fascinated, she met his gaze. Well, well, well. And he’d thought teaching her to suckle his cock was enough for one day. She was proving to be an eager pupil.
“I’m afraid such things are better demonstrated than described.”
If possible, her eyes went even wider. “But—”
“But nothing. If you persist in questioning me, I’ll have to consider the appropriate consequence.” He gave her a burning sidelong look, utterly satisfied by the way she flushed and her breathing came fast.
He led the way along the stream that flowed through the property. Sweetbriar’s grounds were extensive, and the woods stretched for acres in all directions. Sunshine bathed them in gentle warmth, the whisper of a breeze fluttering the aspen leaves.
Finally the murmur of the water increased to a roar. The streambed turned more rocky and they spotted small trout wending their way through the boulders. As they rounded the final curve to their destination, the Marquis heard a gasp behind him. Miranda’s mouth fell open as a spectacular vista appeared before them.
A waterfall tumbled over mossy stones into a deep pool shaded by willows. Sunlight dappled a grassy bank dotted with white clover. The air smelled of earth and freshness, as if the elements had combined in perfect harmony to form this one particular spot.
The look on Miranda’s face made the Marquis want to dance a jig, something so out of character the London gossips would have fainted at the sight. He swung off his horse and led it to the pool, then turned to help Miranda. But she was already on the ground, her arms wide, her face lifted to the sun, turning in a small circle. “This must be the most beautiful place in creation!” she exclaimed.
He smiled broadly. “You’re easy to please.”
“But who wouldn’t feel the same way?” She bent down to pick a star flower. “Look, they sparkle as if the fairies have been here.”
“How rude of them. Perhaps they should clean up after themselves.”
“You won’t spoil my mood, my lord. This is too lovely for crabbiness.”
“I would never want to spoil your mood.”
She looked up with a shy smile. “That’s very kind of you.”
“Kind.” The word revolted him. “The last thing I am is kind.”
“Is that right?” She stood, her hands full of dainty white flowers, and stepped to his side. Carefully, she propped a delicate stem into his cravat. “I beg to differ, my lord. Even a servant has a right to her opinion, does she not?”
“An informed opinion, perhaps.”
“I am informed. Haven’t I been watching you for over a year? Haven’t I seen you visiting your wife despite her viciousness? Haven’t you gone out of your way to take care of me? I wouldn’t dream of…”
“Of what?”
She shook her head and turned away. “I’m talking too much. I’m not accustomed to talking, see, but when I’m with you it’s different. You don’t mind if I talk. Most people want the servants to be invisible, or close to it.”
He grabbed her arm. “You’re not a servant. I don’t want you thinking of yourself that way.”
“Pardon?”
“You’re more than a servant.” He back stepped quickly, lest he reveal that he knew her true name. “You’re a healer. You choose to work for the Countess, but you aren’t a servant.”
A strange look stole over her face, as if he’d gifted her with a puppy or something equally sentimental. Though he abhorred cheap sentiment, he adored the way her face softened and laughter quivered at the corners of her mouth. She tilted her head up to his, baring her long neck.
“And are we to talk of servants and masters all afternoon? Surely that would be a waste of a beautiful day and all this,” she gestured around the lovely glade, “privacy.”
A smile spread across his face. He knew what the little minx wante
d. Lord knew she’d earned it. Well, as her master he had responsibilities, after all. “It’s time for you to earn your keep. I want you naked, by the count of three. One…”
Her mouth parted in the most delicious way. Even more pleasing was the way she scrambled to obey. Her hands flew to the buttons on her riding habit. In a matter of moments she was down to her shift.
“Two…”
There went the shift, flying through the air to land on a tussock of sweet grass. Under that, she wore plain brown knitted stockings that came to just over her knees, along with half boots. On her they were the most erotic underthings he’d ever witnessed. He sucked in his breath at his first look at the fully nude, sunlit Miranda. Her firm and curvaceous form would have entranced Botticelli, as would the way her hair had come loose during the ride and now shrouded her upper body.
“You may leave your stockings and boots where they are. Hold your hair away from your face.”
With both hands, she piled her dyed brown hair on top of her head. Her nipples were still distended from his earlier teasing. Glancing down, he saw that her clitoris peeked through her curls, red, swollen and begging. His mouth watered.
“Part your legs.”
As if used to that command by now, she quickly spread her stocking-clad legs apart. Moisture marred the smooth surface of her inner thighs. She must be in a ferment of desire. Just the way he wanted her.
But he wanted something else even more, he discovered. “You desire release, my sweet.”
Though it wasn’t a question, she answered, her face flushing in the most endearing way. “If it pleases you, my lord.”
“It pleases me, though I will demand something else from you afterward.”
“Anything, my lord. Your wish is my command.” The fervent note in her voice made him smile.
“As it should be. Kneel down on the grass, on your elbows and knees, with your rear pointing in my direction.”
Hot color flooded her face. Her eyes clung to his, as if asking if that could possibly be right. He kept his face in firm, commanding lines, giving her no room for doubt. He saw the exact moment she surrendered—perhaps the sweetest of his life. She released her hair, which flowed over her back as she lowered herself to her knees. Shifting so her back was toward him, she leaned forward to rest her elbows on the grass. Her bottom reared into the sunlit air, no inch of its surface in shadow. He ran his hand across her smooth skin, down the crease, along the rim of her bottom hole.
“Someday I will breach this hole,” he told her, probing it gently with his thumb. “I will open it, slowly but surely, until it can accept me as easily as did your mouth.”
He moved her hair to the side so it hung down over her shoulder, leaving her back bare. The line of her spine was absolutely exquisite.
“Do you have any objection to that?” He spanked her lightly.
“No, milord,” came her shaky answer. “I am yours to command.”
“Good. But since we have no oils or ointments to ease my passage, we’ll have to content ourselves with this part of your anatomy.” He tweaked the hot clit that protruded from her curls. She jerked forward and gave a cry that echoed through the glade. God, she was hot. Tight and hot and all his. He bent over her, an animal claiming his mate, and took command of her clit, rubbing and teasing until shudders ripped through her body. But he knew exactly where the edge was, and he kept her dancing on it until her bottom swung back and forth and she begged him most piteously for release.
“I am the master here. You come when I tell you, not a moment before.”
“Yes but—”
“One more word and I won’t allow you to achieve your peak.”
She snapped her mouth shut so only whimpers and moans escaped.
He unbuttoned his fall, remembering with intense pleasure how it had felt to have her tend to him with her mouth. His cock, which had never entirely subsided from their last joining, sprang eagerly into his hand. Before breaching her, he delivered another light spanking, watching the pink rise to the surface, feeling the slick heat of her quim with his other hand. That hand, the one planted between her legs, delved deeper, parting tissues and folds, opening the way for his cock.
In one strong thrust, he plunged into her body, even as he increased the pressure on her clit. She bucked forward, her head dropping to her hands.
“Oh my lord, that feels so marvelous.” The words seemed to emerge from the deepest part of her being. “Fuck me, my lord. Fuck me, I beg of you.”
He felt her quiver in his arms, felt her clench around his cock, fighting to hold back her orgasm. He remembered how sweetly she’d sunk to her knees, how easily she’d tossed aside her clothes. A rush of sweetness traveled throughout his body.
“You may come now.”
As he said it, he used his palm against her clit and ground his cock into her, hardness beneath, hardness behind. She broke apart in his arms with a long, grateful, keening cry. It went on and on, convulsions racking her body, her inner walls clutching his cock. He drew the climax from her body with all the skill and patience he’d spent his life developing.
Then he too came, and in the rush of sweet, soaring bliss, he knew all those years were for her. For them, and everything they’d explore together.
After, she stretched out on the grass, letting the sun warm her body. As soon as his breathing had slowed and he’d tucked away his cock—she gave a comical pout to see it go—he spoke briskly.
“Now for your promise to give me what I wish.”
“You have me naked before you, willing to offer you anything.” She trailed one hand down her torso, looking like a thoroughly satisfied siren rather than a drab nursemaid.
“And a charming sight you are. But my wishes are in another direction. I desire…a secret. Any secret will do.”
She frowned. “This is a secret, as far as I’m concerned. I certainly don’t intend to tell anyone about it.”
“No, no, my dear. One of your private secrets. Those that lurk in those big brown eyes and weigh down your lovely shoulders. I wish for one of those.”
She shivered as if a cloud had passed over the sun, and sat up, wrapping her arms around her bent knees. “Such as?”
“For instance, why did your guardian wish to render you unmarriageable? Or perhaps, how did you escape him? How did you make your way to the Marquise’s deathbed? I want to know everything, but I’ve sworn not to ask questions. But surely you can spare one secret out of so many.”
She worried at her bottom lip. He hated to cause her distress, but she needed to release her secrets. The momentary discomfort would be replaced by relief.
“I’ll make it easier for you. Answer the first question. Why did your guardian not wish you to marry?”
“Very well. My guardian didn’t want me to marry because no benefit would come to him if I found a rich husband. He intended to sell me instead. One night at a time, to his friends.”
Black rage swamped the Marquis. His hands shook. His vision hazed. “Who is this blackguard? I must know him. I know all the dissolute rakes in England.”
“You might know him, but it’s not likely. He doesn’t travel to London. He maintains a respectable reputation by keeping his vices hidden in the northern country.”
“Northern country…” The Marquis mentally sorted through the Hamptons he could think of, but none of them dwelled in the north.
“Please don’t attempt to guess.” Miranda rose to her knees and rested her hands on her thighs. The flush on her lovely face gave him a sense of deep satisfaction. He’d been the first to touch her silky quim, the first to make her shudder with pleasure.
Now all he could think about was hunting down the evil man who would have prostituted his girl.
His girl?
The thought made him uncomfortable. He didn’t become attached. That’s why his arrangement with the Countess, the Duke and the Earl was so perfect for him. But he couldn’t deny the strange new feelings Miranda brought out in him.
“How did you know that’s what your guardian intended?”
“My maid told me. Servants know everything, as I can now attest.” One corner of her delectable mouth quirked upward, causing her scar to slide up her face. He realized, with a start, that he’d forgotten about the scar until that slight movement. Now it was part of the landscape of her face.
He decided to push his luck. “Did she help you escape?”
“Yes. She took me to her mother, a healer in a nearby village. Her sweetheart hid me under the straw in his cart. I was…still bleeding.”
That intense rage passed through him again. “Sixteen?” he said in a choked voice.
“It was my sixteenth birthday.”
“Miranda…”
For a moment she didn’t answer, and he wondered if she had a different given name. Perhaps she’d changed everything when she left home. But her gaze immediately swung to meet his, and in those big, tea-colored eyes he saw no hint of hesitation or prevarication.
“Did you know you have the right to change guardians?” he asked gently.
Her eyes widened. “But my parents named him as guardian until I’m twenty-one. That’s two more years.”
“Yes, but any minor over the age of thirteen can petition the Chancery Court for a new guardian. Do you have any other close relatives or friends of the family?”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I don’t believe so. Surely my parents would have selected someone else if anyone were available. Lord— That is to say, my guardian was first cousin to my father.”
Lord. She’d said lord. A Hampton. The North. If he could find a Debrett’s, perhaps he could solve the puzzle.
* * * * *
Sweetbriar library—that night
“My darling Marquis, you’ve become utterly obsessed.”
“Don’t exaggerate, chérie.”
The Marquis bent over the thick text of Debrett’s Guide to the British Peerage. He ran his hand up and down the entries. “The Hamptons claim a good twenty pages of this thing. My family barely rates a mention.”