Cecilia's Claim

by Raven McAllan

  Cecy walked toward the stream and knelt beside it, dipping her hands into the cool water and splashed it over her face. Her gown caught tight under her and emphasized the curve of her arse. Caleb decided chivalry was much overrated. He moved swiftly across the glade, the grass masking his footsteps.

  He leant over, his chest hard up against her back. Cecy tried to straighten, but he held her in the position she was and captured her hands in his. Her moan was not a protest, nor was the way her breathing had increased. The soft sheen on her skin was not fear or chill, and she pushed back as best she could, which increased the contact between them.

  His prick, ever ready willing and waiting, thickened and jerked under the confines of his pantaloons.

  Cecy gave a breathless laugh. "Ah my lord, your cock remembers me, such a pity his pleasure must be denied."

  Caleb kissed the nape of her neck, and relished the shiver she gave. "Must it love? Why must it? You want me, as you can tell I want you…" He kissed her neck again, sucked and soothed as he encircled her in his arms and rested his hands under her breasts, his fingers splayed across the fine material that covered them. "So?"

  She twisted her head to look up at him. "So, no thank you, my lord. Oh my body wants you, there is no doubt of that, but my mind is wary. I know what you and Philippe demanded of me, and I don't suppose your ideas have changed much in such a short while. I do not embrace pain my lord, in any shape or form. That includes in my mind as well as my body. And truly I am fearful. It seems I am not such a rebel as I had thought. I worry for you and Philippe as it is, in case you are decried in public and held to account. If we became three and that was made public I fear for our lives. So it is not just the pain, although that…well that is so alarming I feel sick just wondering in what form it would be. It is the pain of uncertainty. And knowing how easily our happiness could be destroyed."

  Cal stood up and drew her to her feet, spinning her so they were face to face. He brushed her hair from her cheek.

  "Are you sure it would be pain, love? The line between pleasure and pain is blurred, and often cannot be separated. All we want is to show you everything we can do to give you the greatest pleasure." He waited, scarce able to breathe. Her breath was ragged, and her eyes had taken on that soft sheen of passion. "Remember how you felt when I touched you here." He put his hand between them and rubbed her quim. Even through her skirts he fancied he could feel her heat. She pushed into his hand. Emboldened, Caleb moved his other hand behind her and gathered the material of her gown up to lift it so he could then slip his hand underneath to caress her arse.

  "Bastard." There was no heat in her words. "My lord, I don't want this."

  Caleb moved his hand to her quim and slipped one finger between her legs.

  "You may think not love, but your body tells a different story. You're wet for me, your body is hoping to feel my cock deep inside you."

  Cecy sighed and it was the saddest sound he thought he'd ever heard.

  "My body is not my mind, my lord, and my mind says beware. For it would not be just your cock in my channel, and I do not wish for more. I cannot. Therefore either take me home or to wherever you feel we must go."

  She put her hands on his chest, and her fingers circled his nipples, before she moved away from him. The sadness in her eyes brought a sting of regret to his heart.

  "Ah Caleb.As to anything else? I dare not. For if I had to say no to either of you once more after sampling a brief part of heaven again, I don’t think I would survive."

  Chapter Six

  Her stomach had a column of ants marching through it, just like the hundreds of insects she had seen on many occasion, oblivious to everything except their final destination. That, Cecy thought, was how she felt, when either Caleb or Philippe looked at her in that way. As if she was not just their next meal, but also their end goal.

  "To hear you say so, is perhaps the end of my salvation." Caleb smiled. It didn't reach his eyes, and she noticed a faint tremor run through him. "However, I dare say there are many who feel I'm beyond redemption, so I imagine it matters little. Come on, let's get away and plot and plan." He took her hand and began to walk across the glade, toward a thick stance of trees beyond the stream.

  All of a sudden, she needed to do the exact opposite of what she knew was in her best interest. She needed to taste Caleb once more, to feel him on her lips, in her mouth, and if possible in her channel. Not later not at some distant point in the future, but then. Who knew if the chance would arise again? She was considered to be wild and uncontrollable, to be little more than a whore, so what had she to lose? Not for the first time Cecy wondered about the edicts and diktats that ruled her world. Once a lady was married and had produced the heir, dalliance and more was the norm. However until then, it was beyond the pale.

  As Cecy had long since decided the role of a wife was not for her, she didn't see why she should follow the rules. She was tired of being judged and found wanting on little or no evidence. But she had not even thought of attempting half the things the ton considered she had tried. Maybe she should. If this were to be her only chance to embrace even one tenth of what she had been promised, then she would do so. As to the rest…her mind shied away from what the rest might be. Baby steps she reminded herself, baby steps. She stopped and jerked Caleb to a halt. He turned to look at her, enquiry in his gaze.

  "Are we safe here?" she asked him. She had to be sure. "Unlikely to be disturbed?"

  "As safe as anywhere other than the moor, why?" Now his voice was puzzled. "Cecy worry not, your wellbeing is our goal. Both Philippe and I will do our utmost to spare you harm or pain."

  She couldn't help it, Cecy giggled. "That my lord is somewhat at odds with your previous statements. Oh not the wellbeing part," she added hastily as his eyes darkened. "Or harm. But pain? That I seem to recollect is somewhat high up on your list of predilections you both wished to share with me."

  "And something you chose not to explore." Caleb said evenly. "We honored that."

  "True, and I still think pain in any guise is not on my list of exploration. I remember how it felt when Randall dislocated my shoulder, and it is not something I wish to experience again, ever. The dislocation or the pain."

  "Cecy, it is not comparable," Caleb was at haste to point out. "Nothing like that, I promise."

  "So you say. I'm not convinced. However there are some other things I think perhaps we need to discuss."

  "Here?" He waved his arm to encompass the glade.

  "Well," she said reasonably. "You told me this was as safe a place as any."

  Caleb nodded. "'Tis true, this copse is impenetrable unless you approach from the house or the way we will leave. To my knowledge only myself and Philippe are privy to those secrets."

  A tingle spread through Cecy, from her scalp through her breasts and down to her quim and beyond.

  "Perhaps I have been too hasty, in not allowing you to be privy to some of my secrets," Cecy said in a diffident tone, which she prayed masked her anxiety. "First, however." She threw her pelisse and shawl onto the ground, put her hands to the ties on her dress below her breasts and loosened them. The material of her simple day gown slipped down her shoulders as the fastenings fell apart. Her heart was in her mouth as she stepped out of her clothes and stood naked in front of him. Surely he would not reject her? The pleasure he had given her all those months ago, had been beyond her wildest imagination. Her body had shaken and throbbed with the intensity of the feelings that rolled through her as Caleb thrust his cock inside her. Each movement was but one small part of a dance so exciting Cecy had almost cried. As her climax shook her, Caleb had pulled out to spill across her breasts and his shout of completion was the most exciting thing she had ever heard. She, Cecilia Gretton, had made him feel like that. In her naiveté, Cecy hadn't thought any further about Caleb and his life. Not until she'd come across him with Philippe.

  She'd stood unobserved and watched how they touched and played with each other and her body cri
ed out for that depth of feeling to be given to her. Now, with a flash of clarity, Cecy accepted how much her flat refusal to listen to either man about their likes and loves must have hurt. They had listened to her and accepted her edicts without complaint, or trying to persuade her to behave otherwise. But had she even given them a chance to explain what they meant? Cecy was ashamed of herself. Even after her total denial of them, they had put their own lives on the line to keep her safe.

  "Caleb?" she said softly. Could she show him how she felt? Would she ever have the chance to explain to him or Philippe? Dare she ask for more? Perhaps not, but she could plead for one small thing surely? "I need you. I want to feel I'm a woman again. Can you show me?" She waited, and tried not to display her anxiety or scratch her arms, which itched with tension.

  His stare seemed to go on forever, and Cecy decided his answer was to be no. Well, she reckoned she deserved it, but oh, how she hoped his heart was big enough to forgive her.

  Caleb looked her up and down, and abruptly spun on his heel to walk away for several yards. Then he turned and stood still. He held one hand out toward her.

  Yes? He is saying yes? Before she had a chance to ask if indeed it was an agreement, Caleb spoke.

  "Come her and kneel in front of me. Bow your head and clasp your hands behind you." She must have looked as startled as she felt. His voice was demanding. Still deep, still like the chocolate she drank each morning, but now with a note of command that was new to her. Cecy hesitated, conscious that there was more to his words that a mere desire for her acquiescence. Dare she question him?

  No, for this is a test.

  Her pulse raced as if she were a child once more, pounding the lawns at Gretton Court, chasing Randall and trying to catch her breath as he danced away from her. Her skin prickled as if someone was running holly leaves over it, each sharp edge adding a shard of anticipation to her overworked imagination. She took a deep breath, walked toward him and knelt. It may not be to her taste, however, she reasoned, she may enjoy some of it.

  After all if it includes his prick in me, I will do. And surely if both of them are so certain their desires are arousing and fulfilling, then I can try them and see? I must grow up, and this is my chance to begin.

  "Like this?" By intuition, Cecy tucked her knees under her and clasped her hand at the base of her spine. She could only hope her trembling and trepidation didn’t show. What if they once more asked for more than she felt she could give? Their previous conversation came back to her, and she looked up at Caleb's expressionless face. There was no way of telling what he thought.

  "What if I can't accept what you want?"

  "You'll tell me. I'll listen, we'll discuss it." He touched her head and stroked her cheek. "I think you need much more than you realize, love. However we will do nothing that you truly can't accept. To this end, remember, if you are not sure or wish to query something, say battle. If you truly cannot go further, say Waterloo." The reference to the recently fought skirmish made her smile.

  "I'll remember those."

  "And Cecy?" Caleb tipped her chin up and stared at her. "You will use them if you feel the need. It will be uncharted territories for you; we accept that. To a certain extend for us as well, because we may know what we enjoy, but if it is not an enjoyment for you as well, all pleasure is lost. Are you sure you want to go ahead?"

  Damn the man, now I am all-fired ready, he starts to dissemble.

  "I've said so, perhaps I need a get on with it or else word?"

  Caleb laughed. "And perhaps you need to remember not to push your luck. If I ask you if you're at ease and comfortable with what's happening, just say peace."

  Cecy remembered Caleb had been a dragoon before he sold out to manage his estates and be the local magistrate. It was no wonder he chose such key words.

  "Well, 'tis peace so far."

  "So far we have done nothing." Caleb said. Humor laced his voice. "Stand up, so I can put your cloak under you."

  He waited as she scrambled to her feet, conscious that she might not be the most elegant person in the world. Cecy had been too much of a hoyden to pay attention to the deportment and etiquette lessons drummed into her by a succession of governesses and schoolteachers. She watched through her lashes as he spread her cloak across the grass, and then rolled her shawl up and placed it in the middle of the garment. The position puzzled her, but for some inexplicable reason Cecy decided not to ask. This new commanding Caleb made her juices gather, and her heartbeat speed up. How had she never seen this side of him before? Always he had been a kind and considerate lover, able to extract every last emotion from her, but never in such a compelling way. Her channel contracted at the thought that once more she was going to experience those highs.

  Caleb turned from where he had added her petticoat to the shawl.

  "This will have to do. Lie on your stomach and rest it on the pile of clothing love. Then draw your knees up and show off your luscious arse for me. Yes 'tis all new to you I know, but this is where the trust begins. I will not blindfold you or bind you," he paused. "As long as you do as I ask. Your word?"

  For a moment Cecy wasn't able to process his words, then, heart thudding, she knelt down and did her best to do as he had asked. It felt strange. It wasn't uncomfortable just different. How could she bend forward and let her nether regions be so…so…obvious?

  "Cecy, your word or we stop."

  "Oh right, er...peace."

  "Good. If you rest on your arms like so." Caleb helped her to lean forward and propped her chin on her crossed arms. "There, is that comfortable?"

  Cecy considered. "Yes, peace it is."

  A tap on her arse cheek made her jump. Not soft, not hard just…Lord, that is arousing.

  "Lift yourself off your knees now, love." She did as Caleb asked and felt his hands move her legs apart until there was a small gap between them. Due to the way she was positioned she couldn't see what he was doing, but his hands caressed her back, her arse and then, to her intense pleasure he slipped one then two fingers into her wet channel. Cecy clenched her muscles around his digits to enhance her pleasure.

  Another tap to her arse this time on the other cheek made her gasp. How could she like that? Caleb withdrew his fingers and Cecy wanted to cry. Had she spoiled everything? She was sure she remembered both Caleb and Philippe praising her for participating in their lovemaking and not being a silent and uninvolved partner.

  There was a rustle she couldn't place, and then Caleb lifted her head and placed his shirt under her cheek.

  "If you want to scream your enjoyment, I fear here is perhaps not the place to do so," Caleb said. "As safe as I believe it is, there's no point in risking it. Bite on my shirt if the need overwhelms you. Believe me those enticing moans and gasps are making my cock hard and weep. I look forward to hearing you give full rein to your emotions soon. For now however it will be a test of your determination to climax in silence."

  "Unless you fill me it will be nigh on impossible. To do either."

  "That is true." The immediate thrust of his prick inside her, and the rhythm he set near took her breath away.

  She bit on the shirt.

  Chapter Seven

  Philippe washed his hands and face with the water in the ewer, and felt marginally cleaner. He hated what he had to do at times, but even though Napoleon was defeated, Britain was not considered to be safe. His role with the Covernant Gang, as go-between and aide, was more than people realized. Only Gabriel Covernant, Caleb, and a certain Lord Gretton had any inkling of the difficult path he walked. The thought of that lord made his mouth firm. Life was not easy or likely to become so.

  He had received his contraband as well as the information he had hoped not to get, and passed the obligatory half hour with Gabriel Covernant and his seconds—and a bottle of newly smuggled brandy—before Gabriel and his men had left with casual farewells. Gabriel had passed on the expected date of the next deliveries of silks and lace, but hadn't mentioned what else would be smugg
led, and Philippe didn't ask. That wouldn't be known until he had the information in his hands. Neither he nor Gabriel had been able to find out who was the instigator of the demands for the smuggled goods, but as the Covernant Gang brought in their own haul of wine and spirits along with the goods demanded, Philippe's boss was content to let it be so for the moment. The epistles that Philippe received and passed on to his superior were important and saved many a life. Even though they needed to stop the passing of goods that could upset the economy of the realm, those letters were worth more than all the lace and silk combined.

  Philippe threw his towel onto the washstand and strode down the passageway in the same direction that Caleb and Cecilia had taken earlier. As he strode out his steps were sure in the gloom. There was no chance of an unexpected meeting in there. His visitors had used the steep path up the cliff side on the far side of the house. One unseen from the land and only visible from the sea for a few short yards, it was considered safe to use at any time. To head inland was not so easy, hence the passage.

  He stepped out of the corridor secured the door, and moved into the trees just as Cecy and Caleb had done a short while earlier. Philippe mused on the coming days. There was no doubt he was going to be busy, not only with his work for the crown, but also Cecy would need careful attention. A noise stopped his progress, and he stood just inside the tree line. What he saw dried his mouth and made daggers of arousal prick his skin as he feasted his eyes on the cock-tightening view ahead.

  Without knowing he was doing so, Philippe undid his breeches and took his prick into his hand. In a circular motion he touched the tip with one finger. Slowly, almost reverently he collected the liquid there, and coated his palm, before he stroked himself from tip to ballocks and back. In front of him, Caleb thrust into Cecy, each inward stroke pushing her down onto her arms. Philippe mimicked each action with a firm stroke of his hands.

  Something must have alerted Caleb to Philippe's presence, because he looked toward Philippe and nodded, one eyebrow raised. Even though his concentration had been disturbed, his rhythm never altered. Philippe's mouth was dry, as his body prickled with the intensity of his need for release. His boots were discarded with scant thought of their blacking, and his breeches followed suit. The ties on his shirt would not give way to his fumbling fingers, so he took hold of the neckband and pulled down until the material tore from to bottom and shrugged out of it.