His Beautiful Wench

by Nathalie Dae

She imagined him quirking a brow, a sly grin on his thick lips. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  His laugh bounced around the carriage. “We shall see. Ah!” He shifted closer to her. “Keep looking, and in a moment you will see my home.”

  Despite his obvious desire that she view his home with awe and her need to deny him that pleasure, she craned her neck. The carriage rounded a bend and a huge castle filled her vision, taking her breath away. She sensed his gaze on her face so forced a neutral expression, but Lord, was that difficult! The magnitude of his home nudged her to recognize admiration for a man who had recreated an English castle upon American soil. She remembered the stir his arrival and the building of the castle had caused. English nobility, here? Was it possible? Once, she had fantasized about residing in the castle, working as a maid, but upon realizing the owner of the home was a middle-aged braggart who quickly took over the town, she’d doused her dreams. She allowed a small smile—one he would take for delight, no doubt—at the fact that she could, indeed, live beyond those gray stone walls now. But why would she want to? Why would she want to share her bed with the man who had become her parents’ landlord and upped the rent to a staggering amount that left them hungry and poor?

  Their carriage accident… Graham had stressed that word in the saloon, hadn’t he? She closed her eyes, shutting out his extravagant building, and probed her mind for snippets of the past. A past she had hidden away because the pain of it all was too much. They hadn’t owned a carriage or a horse. A man had visited. Yes, that was right, Lock had come and told Father and Mother they were needed to run an errand for Lord Graham. Lock! I had forgotten it was him. They were to borrow Graham’s horse and carriage and travel to the next town to pick up some supplies. Father had protested—after all, he already had a job elsewhere. Mother had urged him to agree, for didn’t they need the funds?

  The version of events Lock had related to Amelia after the accident didn’t quite ring true now. Mother and Father had collected the supplies and begun the journey back home. The wheel had ridden over a rut and the carriage toppled on its side and down a steep ravine. Their bodies had been collected by Graham’s men and brought to Amelia, who laid them out in their bed and awaited the cheap coffins she’d ordered. While tending to her mother’s hair, Amelia had cried, recalling how her mother used to brush it nightly beside the living room fire.

  Lock had visited and said, “They was out on that road alone until someone came by and spotted them down that ravine. Weren’t anyone around who could’ve seen that accident.”

  How did Lock know that if he wasn’t there?

  Now Amelia opened her eyes, anger burning inside her. “Do you always order people to be killed to get what you want?” she asked Graham, keeping her attention focused on the long sweeping driveway they traveled.

  “Not always, no,” he said.

  Shock left her speechless. She hadn’t expected that answer. Tremors shook her body and anger tempted her to throttle him where he sat. She was sure she could do it. If she could just catch him by surprise…

  “Sometimes, all it takes is a little persuasion,” he said. “We’re here.”

  Amelia stifled her retort and waited for the carriage to stop. She remained seated, staring at an array of colorful flowers edging the castle front and bordering the drive, while Graham jumped down onto the driveway. She didn’t want to go inside. If she did, she may never come back out. How can I get away? If I run, someone will catch me, and if they don’t, Emmett may suffer for my actions. No, she would do as Graham asked and await Emmett’s return—and hope the lord only saw fit to use persuasion on her lover. The alternative was too difficult to entertain.

  “Do you need a hand?” Graham asked.

  “No thank you. I’m quite capable of getting out myself.” Besides, I don’t want you to touch me.

  She shuffled across the seat toward the open door and stood hunched over. Jumping onto the graveled drive, she scooted away from Graham’s proffered arm, preferring to walk alone. Amelia wandered toward the flowerbeds and admired the well-kept gardens. Hedges and trees had been sculpted by a talented hand. Huge cockerels, spirals and pretty shapes filled a manicured lawn she dared not tread upon. There was no doubt in her mind the lord was a wealthy man, living off the hard-earned rents of his tenants, ruling them with an iron fist.

  “You like the gardens?” he asked, coming to stand beside her.

  His proximity dashed away her moment of ease as she’d admired the grounds, and she stepped to the side to put more space between them. Holding her body straight and rigid, she stared at a diamond-shaped flowerbed a few feet away. Gardenias bobbed in the light breeze, their white petals luminous in the oncoming dusk. Semidarkness had arrived swiftly, almost in the blink of an eye, and she marveled at nature and how it could change so quickly—how life could change so quickly.

  “Which reminds me,” he said, unfazed by her lack of response, “I have something you might like to see.”

  At last she turned to face him, knowing she could do so now the skies had darkened, obscuring his features. She still shuddered, the knowledge that he had ordered someone to kill her parents tainting her view of him. Never again would she see him as just a distasteful human being. No, he was far worse than that.

  “And how do you know what I would like to see?” she snapped, her voice hard.

  “Let’s say I’ve hazarded a guess based on your lodgings, the fact that you say you are Emmett’s woman, and the stink coming off you that has tantalized my nose since you sat beside me in the carriage.”

  Stink? She stared at him, the words she wished to say lodged in her throat.

  “You smell of recent sex, Amelia.” He laughed and walked onto the grass between two rectangular flowerbeds. “Come.”

  She glanced at the length of driveway to the gate—too far to run before getting caught. Thoughts of Emmett sneaking aboard Bates’ ship to retrieve the jewels to secure her safety flitted through her mind. She sighed. With no other choice but to follow, she trailed the lord across the grass to the far corner of the castle’s front façade.

  He halted and turned while she approached. “You see that small cottage over there?” Graham pointed to the rear of the back gardens where a large, one-level wooden structure, bigger than many homes in the town, stood nestled in a stand of trees.

  She nodded.

  “My gardener lives there and has a habit of going inside when I leave the grounds. He has no clue I’m aware of what he does in there while I pay him to tend my gardens, and I’m not about to tell him.” His teeth shone in the darkness as his lips parted in an eerie smile. “After all, I enjoy what he does.”

  Amelia frowned and Graham began walking again, veering toward the garden edge. She followed, trepidation spiraling through her. What if this was a trick? What if he was leading her to the gardener’s house with intent to harm her? Her stomach churned but she clenched her fists and padded behind him, ready to spring away should he turn nasty. They drew closer to the wooden house and a dim light flickered inside, its glow illuminating the back wall. A muffled shriek sounded and Amelia jumped, unsure what animal could have given voice to such an ungodly noise. Her heartbeat sped up and she crossed her arms over her belly, swallowing to quell her nausea. Graham reached the corner of the house and beckoned for her to join him. He hunkered down and peered through the window. Amelia did the same and hiked in a breath, ready to squeal her shock and alarm.

  The lord’s bony hand clamped over her mouth and he whispered, “Quiet. We don’t want them to hear us, now do we?”

  The menace in his tone had her shaking her head. She pressed her lips together, drawing them inside her mouth so she didn’t taste him when he released his hand. His skin felt papery and she inwardly shivered.

  “Keep watching,” he said, his voice low, breath fanning her face. “And if you look away, just know if Emmett returns, I’ll kill him. And you’ll watch.”

  The scene before her… God, she didn’t want to look, but hi
s threat ensured she would. A lean, towheaded man rutted with a brunette woman about thirty years old. The red velvet settee they occupied groaned along with her. Naked and on top of her, he pumped with precision. Hands behind her head, she crossed her ankles, resting them at the small of his back. Her eyes were half-lidded and she squirmed beneath him, her head thrashing from side to side. He rose up, one palm on the cushion beside her, and stared down, his face contorted in his pleasure. His other hand pinched her nipple, tugging the bud until she cried out, a satisfied smile on her lips.

  Despite her repulsion at being forced to watch such an intimate act, Amelia’s body betrayed her. The man’s nipple-pulling reminded her of Emmett and her cunt throbbed at the memory of how that action felt. God, how she wished they were home in her bed, safe where no one could harm them.

  A rosy blush spread on the woman’s chest and face and she opened her eyes fully to look up at her partner. She licked her lips, body jerking with his thrusts, then wiggled her tongue. He leaned down and sucked it into his mouth, his pumping slow and long as he kissed her deeply. She took her hands from behind her head and wound them in his hair, massaging his scalp. The man pulled his head back a little and the pair kissed without their lips touching, tongues flashing between them. It looked so erotic Amelia couldn’t deny the sight of them had ignited something inside her, something she was ashamed of yet unable to ignore.

  Graham took his hand away and, light-headed, Amelia gasped for air.

  “Ah, I see you like watching them fuck just as much as I do, hmm?”

  She ignored him, damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of knowing her body’s reaction to the scene.

  “Watch them, Amelia. See how I want you to behave when I take you for the first time. I want to hear you crying out, eager for my cock inside you.”

  The man pulled out of the woman and her hands dropped to her belly.

  “I want you to pull me back inside when I pull out like that man just did. You’ll be so empty without my thick cock inside you.”

  The gardener settled his knees either side of the woman’s waist, offering his wet cock for her to suck. He glistened, her juices slick on his length.

  “Ah, how precious your mouth will feel around me, Amelia. How…hot.”

  Amelia swallowed, his words making her think of Emmett and the times he had voiced the same thing. She concentrated on the scene before her—the lesser of two evils—and tuned out Lord Graham’s horrible voice.

  Eager, the woman grasped her lover’s hips and drew him toward her open mouth. She licked her cream, tonguing him from base to tip, cleaning every bit of herself away. Moving one hand, she grasped his cock and fisted it, her lips covering his tip. Looking down at her, the man held her head then slipped inside her mouth and began a quick rhythm. She gazed up at him, love in her eyes, and once again placed her hands at his waist, pulling him closer so his cock went deeper. Amelia’s slit dampened and she blushed, the heat in her cheeks so fierce she knew Graham would see it even in the dark.

  “Do you like to do that?” Graham whispered. “Do you like to suck cock?”

  Amelia clenched her teeth to stop a scathing reply and let her gaze blur in hopes she wouldn’t see what the couple did. Their movements gave her knowledge anyway and she fought closing her eyes. She longed to cry out, to shove the lord backward onto his ass and run, get away from this depraved man, but fear for Emmett had her rooted to the spot. She’d endure anything until his return.

  Anything? No, anything but that.

  “You see those two there?” he whispered, his stuttered breaths evidence of his excitement. “You and I will do much of the same when we’re married. Oh yes. Mmmm.”

  Sickened, Amelia swallowed and stared at the back wall. The woman’s muffled moans filtered through the glass and the man grunted then loosed a guttural groan. She guessed he’d spilled his seed and chanced a quick look to check, wanting this ordeal over. The man had flipped the woman over onto her hands and knees and she waited for him to enter her. He caressed her back, fingers splayed, then drew his hands down to her ass. He reared back and studied her cleft, spreading her soft globes before sliding one hand between her legs and fondling her sex. The woman looked up at the ceiling and pushed her ass back. Amelia knew what she wanted—more pressure, for him to touch her harder—and her own cunt reacted as though he was touching her. Thoroughly ashamed, Amelia tried to look away but found she couldn’t. The couple mesmerized her, held her so spellbound she would need to pray for forgiveness when she was finally alone. The woman’s ass lifted then dipped and he removed his hand, spreading her globes again and entering her in one swift movement. As he pounded into her, he closed his eyes and gripped her waist, jerking her body back into his every time his cock pushed inside. Her breasts swayed with his thrusts and she took one breast and kneaded it, her head thrown back in ecstasy.

  Oh God… I’m…wet.

  Shame heated Amelia’s cheeks further and she focused again on the rear wall, her mind replaying what she had seen. She recalled the sheen of sweat on the man’s chest and the way his arm muscles bunched then relaxed each time he shunted his lover backward. Graham squirmed beside her, panting, and she swallowed her disgust at herself and him. She wanted to see Emmett, to explain she had been forced to watch this, that she would never have done so otherwise, yet… Her nipples grew taut and tingles spiraled from them to her core.

  I’m so sorry, Emmett. I didn’t mean for this to happen.

  Distraught, she let out a sob that melded with the woman’s cry of pleasure. The man pumped faster, the center of his ass cheek dipping with each push. Amelia clenched her fists by her sides and strived to remain upright. Her hunkered position, feelings of disloyalty and the carnal sights left her unsteady.

  “Keep watching until he’s spent,” the lord said and breathed deeply. “I smell you, Amelia…”

  She thrust her knuckles in her mouth. Eyes glazed, she judged by the stilled movement in the room and the lack of moans and groans that the couple had finished. She questioned herself, confused as to why she had been aroused when watching others couple wasn’t what she deemed proper. Was it any different from the times Emmett was at sea and she listened to the sexual sounds in the whorehouse? When missing Emmett was at its peak, many a time she had allowed the noises below her room to overtake her and envisaged herself and her man making them. Her hand frequently strayed to her folds and she stroked herself to completion, always ashamed but feeling better for it. She had confessed to Emmett that she did this and he had assured her it was natural for her body to react in that way. But would he feel the same about this scenario? When another watched with her? Surely he wouldn’t.

  Conflicting emotions brewed inside her and she let the tears fall, uncaring if Graham saw them. This man was a pig, an abomination, and she prayed that Emmett had found the sculpture without incident and was on his way to collect her now. She shivered, unable to control herself. What if Emmett got caught? What if he was being held in that wooden box at this very moment? What if he’d been killed?

  Anguished, she fell back onto her bottom, forehead to her knees.

  “Come,” Graham said. “I’ll show you to your room.”

  She looked up and sniffed. The lord held out his hand and she waved hers, indicating she would get up by herself. She scrabbled to her knees and stood with her back to the wall beside the window, a ball of emotion lodged in her throat and her heart rate soaring.

  “We must go,” he said, eyes and teeth glinting in the darkness, “before they see us.”

  He turned away from her and walked back the way they had come. Amelia followed, her heart and legs heavy. Guilt weighted her soul and she pondered what would befall her if Emmett didn’t return. Would Graham force the pastor to marry them without her consent, sentencing her to a life with a man she abhorred?

  If he keeps me imprisoned here, I’ll kill him if he tries to touch me. I’d rather be hanged than endure his touch.

  Despair brought on
more tears and she indulged in self-pity until they reached the castle doors. Swiping at her face, she set her jaw and shoulders, resolving to get through the coming hours with dignity. Graham rapped on the door and it swung open to reveal a doorman, tight black breeches molded to his legs. A black jacket with velvet lapels fitted his trim form perfectly and he regarded her with flinty eyes. His hair, oil-slicked and shiny, brought on a shudder. It seemed the owner of this castle and his employees enjoyed liberal use of the stuff. She shifted from foot to foot beneath his gaze, heat infusing her cheeks, her bodice itching to a high degree.

  “Morley,” Graham said. “Please call for Helena.”

  * * * * *

  Amelia huddled beside the front door in a foyer bigger than the ground floor of the whorehouse. Graham had sauntered through a side door and Morley had gone in search of the woman named Helena. No one would see her if she ran now… She looked around to stop herself fleeing. If she ran, she risked Emmett’s life. Wood flooring, polished to a high shine, held the reflection of a light wood sideboard on the other side of the front door. A cream taper in a silver candlestick stood in the center and a ceramic bowl held dried flower petals that gave off a pleasing scent. Ahead, a set of bare wood stairs stretched up to a railed balcony. The three closed doors up there prompted thoughts of what lay behind and she guessed that two more doors, one on either end, led to the left and right wings. Why did one man need such a huge home? Perhaps he expected to have a large family…

  She swallowed bile and took in a deep breath. A clatter from above drew her attention. The woman from the gardener’s cottage kneeled on the balcony, picking something up from the floor. She stood and sighed, glaring at the ceiling, her cheeks an angry red. Blowing out a breath, she approached the top of the stairs and smoothed the skirt of her burgundy-colored dress. Her hair looked in need of a brush and she patted it, tucking some wisps behind her ears before descending the stairs. She glanced up, caught sight of Amelia and stopped. She stared, eyes wide, mouth an O, and flushed even redder.