A Dom for Christmas

by Raven McAllan

  Angelina clasped her hands together. “It almost might be worth it,” she said. “But…hmm perhaps not. Not now. I look forward to seeing you come…apart.”

  He grinned, and resumed his up-and-down motion on his shaft. In truth he was so close to coming it hurt, but he was not a master at domination for nothing. The pain would morph into much more pleasure for both of them, later.

  The knock on the door made Cam swear and drop his hands once more.

  He grabbed his robe from the chair back and glanced at Angelina to check she was covered. To his relief, she’d thrust the remains of her night rail under the covers and pulled those up to her chin.

  Cam hurriedly thrust his banyan over his head and glanced ruefully at the tent his cock made in the material.

  Angelina chuckled. “No hiding that, is there?”

  “It seems not, so let’s hope it’s someone who is au fait with the state a male can get into, and ignores my pego.”

  “Good luck on that one. You’d need to be blind to ignore it.”

  “A state of affairs my staff are trained to adopt on occasion.”

  There was a louder knock, and Cam strode to the door to pull it open. Styles, his man of business, stood there with a very apologetic look on his face. He blinked when he saw his master’s state of undress, but he kept his eyes firmly fixed on Cam’s shoulder.

  “My Lord. I apologize for interrupting you, but you need to know, it worked.”

  “Excellent.” Cam clapped the man on the shoulder. It was good news, but how he wished it could have been announced ten minutes later. “Was much of a mess made?”

  Styles shook his head. “Minimal, My Lord. What we assumed would occur, given it had to look as if we’d hidden the item. I think it was our good luck he found it with relative ease.”

  Cam nodded. “I’ll be down to confer within the quarter hour. Perhaps you could ask someone to arrange refreshments for us all.”

  Styles nodded and turned on his heel.

  Cam walked back into the bedchamber and closed the door behind him.

  “As much as I’d like to say ah, now where were we, let us continue, sadly I can not. I’m needed elsewhere.”

  “What was that all about?” Angie asked him as he put his pantaloons back on much faster than he’d shed them.

  “Nothing for you to worry about. We merely set a trap for Rawcliffe and it seems it has worked.”

  “Really? What sort of trap,” Angie inquired in an interested voice. “His bollocks in a gin trap?”

  “Bloodthirsty wench. Sadly, no.”

  “Bugger, I don’t believe in stuff like that, but for him I could make an exception. So what did you do?” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood upright.

  “Never mind what did I do. What are you doing?” Cam tied a neckerchief around his neck. He had no intention of fiddling with cravats and pins.

  Angelina looked up from tying her chemise. “Coming with you, of course. If it involves that worm, it somehow involves me. I want to know what’s going on.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, and punish me later. So what did you do?”

  Resigned to being accompanied, Cam sighed. “Turn around and let me do those ribbons up. We let it be known in a roundabout way, via servants chosen especially for the task, that a certain ornament was usually left in the study where the lock was faulty. He fell for it.”

  Angie jumped, leaned forward, and fumbled under the pillow. “But it isn’t.” She held on to the angel tightly.

  “Stand still whilst I do this or I’ll be Shibari–tying you into your dress. Of course it isn’t, but a cheap copy was and it is now in his possession. There, now you are presentable. Come.” Cam took his wife’s hand and led her downstairs.

  “But he’ll find out it’s a fake, won’t he?” Angie asked as they made their way along the corridor toward Cam’s study. “And then it’ll be worse.”

  “He’ll never know. The stones are diamonds, not perfect by any means but good enough for Rawcliffe to think he’d made a killing. He’s in debt, and if his parents find out to what extent, he’ll be sent to manage their plantation, away from temptation, without anything to fall back on.”

  “Sounds ideal to me,” Angie commented. “Why not let it happen?”

  “If he doesn’t honor his debts, it won’t just be him in disgrace. And his grandmama and mine are cousins. It would nigh on kill both of them. They’re both well into their nineties, and likely to pass over before too long anyway, so I might as well ensure their last days are happy ones. His parents will cover the remainder. He’ll still go to St. Kitts.”

  “You’re too altruistic by far. He’s a snake.”

  “Oh he is, but with him so far away, he’ll be insignificant. Not even a snake, a worm.”

  Angelina laughed. It was a happy, joyful noise that gladdened his heart and made up for his still unrequited, rock hard cock. Cam swung her into his arms, thrust his leg between hers, and nibbled the nape of her neck. The hitch in her breathing was all he could ask for.

  “And as soon as we sort everything else out, we can forget all about him.” He murmured the words. “And as soon as you’re well, we have a lot of time to make up.”

  “I’m well now.” She moaned as he sucked on the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

  “And I will punish you for all the things you have done when you were specifically told not to.”

  The thought of his particular forms of punishment didn’t seem to bother her. “Oh…oh yes. Argh…”

  He bit her earlobe. She gasped and mewled. He daren’t look toward his cock to see if his pantaloons were stained. If they were not, he was damned lucky. Once again she had him ready to come.

  “Enough now. Let’s get this meeting over.” He drew back and patted her arse, none too gently.

  “Ouch.” Angelina rubbed the spot he’d hit. “I thought you didn’t spank?”

  “I’m rapidly changing my mind. Now behave.”

  She curtseyed, and it wasn’t a mockery. “Yes, Sir.”

  He nodded and opened the door to the study. The curtains were pulled across the window, shutting out the dark evening, the coals in the fire were glowing, and the lamps lit. Someone had added a swathe of greenery across the mantle, and put pinecones, apples, and nuts into a crystal bowl on a side table. It looked homey and welcoming.

  Angie looked at the additions. “I thought you don’t do Christmas decorations? These are lovely.”

  “I’m pleased you approve. But I still have no idea what you mean.”

  ****

  Angie guessed that. Cam had looked somewhat blank before he’d kissed her hand. It still tingled and she resisted the urge to rub it, or worse still, put the spot he’d touched to her mouth.

  Instead she held her arm close to her side and studied the three men siting around the library table. Only one of them seemed even vaguely familiar.

  “My younger brother Gareth on your left,” Cam said, sotto voce. “Sykes, my business manager, in the center, and Viscount Albemarle of…well, just of.”

  Although his comment was cryptic in the extreme, it made sense to Angie. Especially after the last Regency mystery she’d read. Then, she’d thought it far-fetched; now she wondered just where the author had drawn her facts.

  She curtseyed toward the men, and was amused to see each surge to his feet and bow to her. Normally that would be as likely as her winning the lottery, and she didn’t even buy a ticket for that.

  But then, who is to say what now is my normal. The thought that this might be her reality was scary, even if this Cam was as hot, good-looking, caring, and it seemed, inventive, as her other Cam. Angie liked her leggings and sheepskin boots, her short skirts and strappy tops. To say nothing of cappuccinos, pizzas, Johnny Depp, and dairy milk chocolate. In a chunky bar from the fridge, not hot and runny in a cup.

  Mind you, I’d take Johnny Depp any which way. Angie composed herself and her thoughts, and settled herself in the seat Cam had
held out for her, on the opposite side of the table of their visitors. Only once she was comfortable did the others also sit down. She rather liked that courtesy, although the closeness of Cam to her didn’t bode well for coherent thoughts.

  A sudden thought struck her. What would her other Cam be doing? Where was she to him and all her friends? Did that life even exist? Angie’s skin became clammy, and she swallowed to dispel the feelings of nausea that filled her. She couldn’t lose it now. Panicking or tossing her cookies wouldn’t help. Maybe if she cleared up this here and now, she’d be able to find her way back to her other life.

  Maybe.

  However, for the moment there was nothing else she could do, and Stuart needed to be dealt with.

  “Ready?” Cam asked her as he put a goblet in front of her. To Angie’s relief, it only contained lemonade. She needed a clear head.

  “As I’ll ever be. So, what’s going on?” She looked at the three men in front of her who avoided her gaze and instead gazed toward Cam. “Okay, I get it. You’re the three wise monkeys, and Cam’s the organ grinder. Spill the beans.”

  They seemed confused, as well they might. Angie inwardly groaned at her mixed metaphors and muddled sayings. “Tell me just what’s going on?” she suggested.

  “Ah.” Sykes tugged at his cravat.

  Gareth studied his nails, and Albemarle cleared his throat.

  “If I may, My Lord?” he asked diffidently. Angie judged diffidence was not his usual attitude.

  “Oh by all means.” Cam pushed the decanter across the table. “Duty paid,” he said.

  “But of course.” There was a twinkle in Albemarle’s eyes as he poured himself a generous tot, and passed the decanter to Sykes. Angie swore he winked briefly. “So, to recap for the Countess. Several months ago, it came to my notice that Rawcliffe had befriended some rather unsavory characters with less than sterling backgrounds. They had recognized his predilection for heavy gambling in the less than respectable hells, and encouraged him. Once they had his promissory notes, they had a hold over him he couldn’t get away from. Hence his attempt at burglary, and his attack on you. His Lordship and I have had reason to suspect Rawcliffe was in dire straits, and although we know he was to be shipped off to the Colonies, we wished to reduce the scandal as much as possible.”

  “Okay, now I’m confused.”

  Gareth tilted his chair back and swung it on two legs. Angie admired the angle he tipped to and didn’t topple over. “It’s simple, really. Rawcliffe dipped too deep. Got into trouble and decided to get out of it with a spot of burglary. Your husband got wind of his intentions, but before we were able to set our plans in motion, you were attacked. Then we were able to set a trap to thwart him, and arrange for his immediate departure from these shores. At this moment he’s on one of Cam’s ships and about to set sail on the tide for the Colonies. It will make him or break him, and I for one don’t care which.” He swung his chair legs onto the floor with a thump, and reached for the decanter.

  “Succinct and to the point,” Cam said. “But I need to explain why we used your angel.”

  She had wondered.

  “Please.”

  “I told you about our tenuous connection to Rawcliffe?”

  “Very tenuous, thankfully,” Gareth said.

  Cam frowned at him, and Gareth raised his hands. “I only speak the truth.”

  “True, but there is no need. I’ve explained the connection to Angelina.”

  “But not why he knew or wanted my angel.” She fingered the ornament in her pocket. How dare they use it as bait? “And while I think of it, I’m not impressed about this. It’s my angel. Not yours or bloody Stuart’s.” She glared at Cam, who quirked one eyebrow at her. “Well?” she asked in such a belligerent tone she was ashamed of herself.

  The three men across the table studiously avoided her gaze. Cam stretched toward her and pinched her thigh. Even through her dress and chemise it was hard enough to hurt. She glared. He smiled and nipped again.

  “Many years ago, it was a wedding gift to a very distant relative of both of us, and unfortunately a connection of Rawcliffe’s. Hence I believe this is how he knew about the diamonds. At some point, as far as I can tell, it was given to my great-grandmama, and her cousin coveted it. As you know, most of the ton can find a connection if they go back enough generations. This somewhat unwelcome connection then eventually went down your side of the family. Stuart would know of it through his family lore. I think he decided it would be easy money, and a way out of his trouble. Little does he know.” Cam smiled.

  It wasn’t pleasant and it sent shivers down Angie’s spine. She hoped she’d never be the recipient of such a facial expression. It was full of determination and promised retribution.

  “He was wrong. All he has is enough to save his parents from disgrace, no more.”

  “So, all is well now?” Angie asked. “We can move on?”

  “We can move on,” Cam agreed. “I need to confer here for a short while. Do you wish to wait or retire?”

  The fact he seemed happy with whatever she decided made up Angie’s mind. She pushed back her chair and stood up, even as she waved to the three men opposite to remain seated. “I’ll bid you farewell and goodnight, gentlemen. I...” She paused, and remembered something from her reading. “I am somewhat fatigued.” Angie curtseyed, thankful for school plays, books, and general nosiness about times gone by.

  Cam took her arm and walked to the door with her.

  “My room, my bed,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I won’t be long.”

  “Yeah, well there’s one small problem there,” Angie told him as he turned to go back into the library. “I don’t have the foggiest idea where your room is.”

  “My apologies, lady-mine. The door next to yours, along the green corridor.”

  Easy enough then, Angie thought. Except for the life of her she couldn’t remember where her door was. She found the green corridor by trial and error and looked at the doors. All dark wood, all shut, and no distinguishing features. Why on earth hadn’t she paid attention to her surroundings? Because I was paying attention to Cam, that’s why.

  Ah well. There was nothing for it but to try each one in turn and hope none were occupied. She had no idea who lived in the house, apart from Cam, and evidently herself.

  The first two rooms were uninhabited, their furniture under holland covers, and the shutters closed to prevent fading. The third room was a tiny sitting room that she fell in love with. How she’d like to appropriate that. The only other door past that led to a large cupboard full of linen.

  However, with one side of the corridor checked, it meant their rooms were on the other side of the corridor.

  Angie looked at the doors and bit her lip as she pondered her next move. If his was next to hers, which end could it be? Once more she had four rooms to choose from. She turned the handle on the first one. It didn’t budge. She bent down to see if she could look through the keyhole, but evidently the key was in it because the aperture was blocked.

  Not here, then. It was only a few strides to the next door. It opened easily when she turned the handle and Angie walked inside.

  This was easily recognizable as a man’s room. No pale colored cushions or soft furnishings here. Dark wood surrounds and skirting boards, with the bed covered in deep red silk, and the windows with the same color velvet. Next to the window, a small table held a decanter and two glasses. The chairs drawn up to it were deep and welcoming.

  However, it was the door at the end of the room that held Angie’s attention. It obviously led to the other room. The one with the locked outer door. She looked at the side table and then toward the bed. There was no contest. With a fatalistic shrug, she walked to the door, turned the handle, and pushed.

  Angie blinked and rocked back on her heels as her pussy clenched and her skin stung with awareness. Her juices coated her thighs, and her mound was damp within seconds as she stared at the contents of the room. No wonder th
e outer door was locked.

  Chapter Seven

  She’d never ever wonder just what Regency Doms used for toys anymore, that was for sure. The books she’d read didn’t know the half of it. Hanging from what looked like a stable hook was a series of intricate ropes and pulleys. Next to them was a bench on wheels, and beyond that, a waist-high bed—something similar to what her beautician used for the torture of waxing. The far wall had several parallel bars fixed to it, and a long, low cupboard top had candles and a tinderbox on its surface, along with several pots of lotions and salve.

  She noted a set of graduated whips and floggers hooked over wooden pegs and something that looked like a horse’s bit and reins.

  Shit, he really is a Dom. Angie walked farther into the room and let her curiosity overcome her. She opened the cupboard door.

  Well, they said curiosity killed the cat, and boy did it make her heart stop for a second. It held dildos. Lots of them. And butt plugs, she thought. In various sizes, shapes, and material. One particular smooth, medium-sized, mushroom-shaped object caught her attention, and she lifted it out of its nest of velvet and ran her fingers over the cool surface. Green jade, one of her favorite materials.

  “A butt plug, lady-mine. Shall I use it?”

  Angie whirled round, and the jade slipped from her hand. Cam bent and retrieved it before it hit the floor.

  “Not the best way to treat our toys, lady-mine. Did you lose your way?” He tossed the jade from one hand to the other whilst he looked at her.

  Angie quelled the urge to lower her gaze. Yes, she was in the wrong, but hadn’t he said their toys, not solely his? The thought that they’d used that, plus the other things, made her juices gush and she clenched her thighs together.

  Damn and blast, if I have to be around now, the worst thing that could happen is that I remember hot stuff like this.

  “Answer me, lady-mine.”

  Angie replayed his words. “Er, sort of.”

  He tapped the jade against his leg, but didn’t speak. Angie fidgeted under his gaze.