Cecilia's Claim

by Raven McAllan

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2013 Raven McAllan

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-415-3

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: JS Cook

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To Paul, my dust-bunny accepting husband, Doris my friend and 'reditor' and all at Evernight Publishing, especially my lovely editor JoAnne.

  CECILIA'S CLAIM

  Behind Closed Doors, 2

  Raven McAllan

  Copyright © 2013

  Prologue

  The rumblings and grumblings of his offspring were growing louder and Gerard knew he couldn't put this moment off any longer.

  Glancing over at his secretary, Martin Nelson, he asked, "Are they all here?" The man tilted his head to the side as though assessing the sounds outside the locked study door. Cecilia's pert voice was easily discernible as she bantered with her brothers.

  "Miss Cecilia is there, and if she's giggling it's a certainty that Mr. Randall is teasing her. I saw Mr. Harold with his nose buried in a book in the library, so he's present. Peregrine wouldn't miss a scheduled meeting if the Regent himself tried to hold him up, and as for that youngest lad of yours, those are his dogs and where he goes, they go. I'd say they're all present."

  Steepling his hands together, Gerard eyed the papers on his desk. Was he doing the right thing? "You will stay on and assist Peregrine? Make sure the others have all they need?"

  "I am in your employee My Lord, until such time as you terminate my employment, I will do my utmost to follow your instructions."

  Nodding, Gerard sighed. It was time. "I did my duty. I married, I had children." Nelson's chuckle interrupted him. He quirked an inquiring brow in his secretary's direction. "You find my plight amusing?"

  "No, not at all. It's your children, you say it so prosaically, as though they were not... Well, you know your children as well as I do!"

  Gerard regarded the fond smile on his longtime friend and employee's face. Martin Nelson had been with him since before his marriage to Penelope, since his father's death when he'd realized just how disastrous the old man's spendthrift habits had been to the family fortunes. Side by side they had worked to rebuild the Brigstock family coffers, to pay off debts and to rebuild the family position in society. "We've worked hard, we deserve our reward. When I have found him, when you decide Perry can handle the situation on his own—"

  "You mean when he's learned not to act like such a lordly prick toward his brothers and sister?"

  Gerard nodded again, hiding his smile at his oldest friend's assessment of his eldest son's character. "Even as you say. When it's all sorted out, you'll hire your successor and come join us?'

  Nelson rose from behind his smaller desk. "If things work out, I may join you. If...your friend's situation is as it was when last you met him."

  Gerard understood Nelson's meaning clearly. The secretary had spent years putting his best effort into furthering Gerard's causes, but he had his own interests to pursue as well. At this point, neither of them could tell if their courses would continue in the same traces. "Well, let them in then, we'll neither of us discover our futures until its all set in play."

  Nelson didn't hesitate. The children's voices rose as he pulled the heavy door open, then fell into silence. Nelson slipped out as the tide of Gretton children trooped into the room, five handsome children with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, aristocratic noses, and the characteristic Gretton ear lobes. Gerard sighed. He'd done his best to establish each of his progeny on a path that suited his temperament, but the thought of leaving them to their own devices for the indefinite future didn't quite rest easily. "Please, be seated." He held up a hand to forestall the explosion of sound. "I have a matter of grave importance to discuss with you. I regret summoning you all in such a pompous manner, but it seemed prudent to speak to you all at once." He paused to look around the circle of chairs.

  Perry sat stiffly, lips compressed in a thin line. Next to him sat Randall, perfectly at his ease in his scarlet uniform, knees crossed, tasseled Hessians gleaming, eyes twinkling. Harold sat next to his brother, and from the dreamy expression in his eyes, he was either contemplating some scholarly inanity, or dreaming up some bit of mischief. Cecilia was perched on the very edge of her chair, toe tapping impatiently as she twisted a handkerchief to shreds in her lap. Cecilia. He had somehow failed in his duty with her. Girls her age should have been long since married and providing heirs for their husbands, but Cecilia hadn't taken, as it were, and though she was quite popular, had inexplicably not received any acceptable proposals.

  You did your best, he reminded himself. Seven seasons, a tour of the continent, visits to Brighton and Bath and house parties innumerable. In another year the girl would be twenty-five and she could take up residence in the house her mother had left her in Tunbridge Wells. He'd provided the same allowance for Cecilia as he had his sons in order to cover just such an eventuality.

  His attention was drawn from his musings about Cecilia's fate as a spinster when a minor scuffle ensued between his youngest son, Nash and Cecilia that apparently involved some kicking and flying elbows. "Children!" He scolded. Nash was such a scamp, always getting into mischief of one kind or another. "This is serious business. Save your bickering for later."

  "Perhaps, Father, if you would..." Perry paused meaningfully.

  "Yes. Of course. I'm leaving." He announced baldly and waited for responses. They exchanged bewildered glances. Again, it was Peregrine who broke the silence.

  "Would you like us to accompany you to the country, father? It isn't exactly convenient right now."

  Gerard waved him impatiently to silence. "No. I'm leaving the country. I've some old friends I want to look up, and many places I've never been. I sent each of you on a Grand Tour, but when I was of the age for it, my family hadn't the funds to send me. Now, everything here is in order, and you all, well. You don't need me. Each of you is independent, and none of you wants me interfering in your lives. So, I'm going to travel, look for my friend, and enjoy myself." He cast a glance over each stunned face in turn. "Cat got your tongues, eh? I've done my duty by this family since I was nineteen. I'm turning fifty soon, and I think it's my turn to enjoy life. Perry, I'm leaving you power of attorney to run the estates."

  He forestalled Perry's moment of triumph by continuing. "Under the direction of Nelson. He has my authority to naysay anything too outrageous. The rest of you, I've set up your allowances to be paid quarterly. If there is a problem, you may direct correspondence to me through Nelson, but I advise you to do your best to live within your means, because neither he nor Perry will be able to bail you out if you take a swim in River Tick. That's all. You may go now." He held his breath as they rose, and pretended to study the papers on his desk. It was too much to hope that the lot of them would just troop on out and let him get on with finding Jonathon."

  When?"

  "Pardon?" He glanced up at Nash, his youngest child, the jack-a-napes who courted scandal assiduously in the tradition of younger sons everywhere.

  "When are you going?"

  Was that regret or sorrow in the boy's eyes? "In the morning." Good boy, that Nash. High spirited as hell, but a heart of gold.

  "And when will you return?" Harold
piped in, focusing his gaze on his father for the first time since entering the room. Gerard hadn't been at all certain that his dreamer son had even understood that he was leaving.

  "I’m not certain. It depends on whether I find my friend, and once I find him, whether I can convince him to return with me." He caught Randall's startled look of cognition. "Yes." He knew Randall understood the significance of his words. "Yes, exactly, Randall. I had no choice you understand, as I had no brothers to take my place. You're fortunate in that Perry and Nash are so eager to propagate the family name."

  "I wish you every success on your journey then, father." Randall bowed deeply and followed his younger brother from the room. Cecilia crossed the room and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He patted her head briefly. "Now then, my girl. No need for you to be concerned. I've set things up for you. You'll have your pin money as always, and the use of any of the houses. Perry will look after you. I don't suppose you've found a husband yet?" He teased his only daughter.

  "I’m afraid I'm not actually looking. You know, I'm quite old enough to look after myself." The apple of his eye cast a disparaging glance at her elder sibling. "Perry needn't trouble himself."

  "It's done. There's no need to argue the point, puss. Perry will look out for you until you turn twenty-five, and then you'll have all the joy of looking out for yourself you could wish. A year isn't so long to wait. And Perry," He frowned sternly at his eldest boy. "Will not be a trial to you, will you my boy?" Perry grunted noncommittally and Gerard sighed again. "Go on. I've a lot of packing to do. And you...Yes, it is necessary to leave Nelson to help you. You've a damned supercilious attitude and frankly, I'm rather concerned that you'd run roughshod over your siblings if I left it entirely up to you. Oh, I know you wouldn't abuse them, but they aren't a stack of blank canvasses to be repainted in your image, either."

  "But..."

  "But nothing, Peregrine. They are high spirited and lively, and that's the way we love them. Help them, support them, and if they are in true danger, rescue them, but otherwise let them live their lives. I intend to at last live mine, and you, my serious son, I highly suggest you live yours."

  ****

  March 1815. London, England.

  Cecilia hummed to herself as she let herself in through the narrow door at the back of the elegant town house. Caleb Jefferies, Lord Haytor wasn't expecting her, but this route was their way of seeing each other without the eyes of the ton on them. She closed the door behind her and hung her cloak on a convenient hook. As she smoothed her silks over her hips, a tremor of excitement ran through her, sending a gush of liquid to coat her thighs. Every time she thought of Caleb, of his hard male body next to her, and his cock erect and ready to fill her, the hairs on her arms stood on end. The sensations she felt as he fucked her were like nothing else, and she knew she would never get enough of them.

  Except… A thought of another hot male body flickered through her mind, to be firmly quashed. That particular memory had no place in her present.

  Her body was so hot, it was as if an inferno washed over her, and Cecy fanned herself with her hands. She could only pray he would be at home. It wasn't as if she could walk up to the front door and ask.

  She ran up the stairs and opened the door at the top. With hindsight the noises she heard from within should have warned her.

  The sighs and moans made her quim contract. The sight made her moan and take a step back. Surely she wasn't excited? Her body told her otherwise. Her heart beat so fast and loud it was a wonder the two men she regarded didn't hear it. However the fact each had their cock thrust in the others mouth and their eyes closed probably rendered her invisible and unheard.

  Her lover was busy as his hands touched and caressed the body of the man he fucked. The other man, whose face she couldn't see, grabbed Caleb's arse and his finger circled Caleb's anus and pushed inside. That simple act had her lifting her skirt to touch her quim, to put one finger inside herself and feel her heat and wetness.

  Cecy leaned against the walls, unable to take her eyes of the erotic scene in front of her. Her skin was clammy, and her fingers tingled as she mimicked the actions of the men she watched. It was obvious their climaxes were approaching as their mouths moved ever faster. Caleb pinched the hard tight nipples of his partner, and the action sent a sharp shard of desire through Cecy. It ran from her own nipples to her cunt and her body sang. She shut her eyes, not to close out the sight of the men but to envisage how it would feel if it was her they pleasured.

  As her climax built, pictures filled her mind. Of the soft pink bloom on the skin of the men, of the rosy arse cheeks of Caleb's companion, of how it would feel to have her arse touched and filled. Of perhaps both men pleasuring her. That was enough. Where had that idea come from? More to the point why, when it scared her and was taboo, did it excite her so? With no care to her surroundings Cecy came with a sob and shook with the intensity of her climax. She trembled as she slid down the wall, her fingers still inside her channel, and leaned forward over her legs. Her hand slipped out of her and rested on her thigh and her juice coated digits traced wet circles on her flesh. Cecy's breath was uneven and there was a ringing in her ears.

  Two pairs of male hands took hold of her and moved her, until she felt a soft mattress cushion her body. The one she thought hazily the men had so recently occupied. The one she thought wryly she usually occupied.

  "Drink this." Her head was lifted and cool glass touched her lips. Cecy sipped the water, and opened her eyes. Two men, both she realized whom she knew, in more than a casual way were looking at her with concern. Not so concerned she noticed that cocks so recently sated were once more growing hard. Cecy averted her eyes; it was not the time to grow dry mouthed at such an arousing sight.

  "Ah." What could she say? "I had no idea you knew each other."

  "In every way possible." Caleb confirmed, his gaze fixed firmly on her face. "And you are excited by us, by what we are, and what we do." It was not a question.

  Cecy looked from her present lover to her past one, and wondered…did Caleb know her history with Philippe, Le Compte De Caen? She had no chance to ask, before the men sat beside her, one on each side. They were she noticed, still naked. Unselfconscious in their nudity, aroused, and beautiful. She ached to touch.

  Cecy ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips and her throat contracted. She didn't trust herself to talk without her voice cracking.

  "Drink it all." Since when had Caleb sounded so dictatorial? Always he had been the gentleman, never demanding, always asking, and soothing her fears. She did as she was bidden and handed the empty glass to him.

  "Thank you." Her voice was husky.

  Caleb put the glass onto a side table.

  "So did we shock you? Scare you? Excite you and make you wish to participate, to feel us both fucking you as well as each other?"

  Am I to be honest? She nodded.

  "All of it?" Caleb persisted. "Will you let us fill you? You have over the years enjoyed both of us, and us you."

  So he does know of my couplings with Philippe, and it seems it does not faze him. That is a relief. Perhaps I can decide if I am able to go further.

  Before she had a chance to voice her thoughts, Caleb spoke. "Now can we become three? What do you know of ménages Cecy? Is it now time for you to discover all there is to know about such beautiful acts?"

  Those few words conjured up such images that once more her juices gathered, and her quim quivered, asking for attention. With a ruthlessness she didn't know she possessed, Cecy ignored the sensations bombarding her and turned her attention back to the men who sat next to her. They were so close that their heat mixed with hers, and she felt like the center of a volcano ready to erupt.

  Cecy cleared her throat.

  "Maybe it is time, I have not decided. It is a big decision. For all I care little for the ton, what you ask frightens me. For your safety as a couple and for all our lives if we become a ménage. I could not bear to lose you once we became lovers tog
ether, and in our world if we were discovered, I couldn't comprehend the outcome." She swallowed. Her mouth was dry and stabs of fear hit her body like hailstones on the hard earth. Why did something so unnatural appeal to her so? "You said there was more. What is the more?" Why was her heart thudding like a gong on a bell, and pins and needles attacking her skin?

  The men glanced at each other, and Philippe spoke for the first time.

  "I need to see the pleasure you will get from pain."

  ***

  September 1815. London, England.

  After her disastrous evening at Almacks, Lady Cecilia Gretton was desperate for an evening of uncomplicated fun without the censure of the ton and the eyes of the tabbies on her.

  It wasn't Cecy thought, that the Earl of Beverstoke hadn't deserved the response she had given to his outrageous suggestion. However she knew it was the way she had delivered it. To slap someone as influential as him was unheard of. To do so at Almacks was social suicide. Only because Princess Esterhazy, one of the patrons of the club had witnessed the whole thing had it been glossed over to a certain extent. If the good lady in question had arrived even a few seconds later a completely different slant could have been put up on the scene, and Cecy's sullied reputation would never recover.

  Nevertheless, her elder brother Peregrine had been censorious in the extreme, and his pontifications had been more than any young lady could bear. Sometimes Cecy thought he believed he was the guardian of all their morals.

  When Augusta—Gussie—Lady Gravesend—nee Brodcastle—a long held friend, with whom she had shared a room, and scrapes at Miss Jackson's School for young ladies had told her of the masquerade she and her husband were holding, Cecy knew she would attend. An evening of anonymous gaiety would be a perfect antidote to the frowns and disapproving stares she had seen so much of lately. To that end, she'd arranged for Betsy, her maid to purchase her a golden domino and an elaborate mask to wear.