William’s head came up, ears pricked.
“How can I ever forgive myself for hurting her?” Lord Philip choked back a sob.
“Sahib, have I done something to displease you?” Lady Aurelia seemed uncertain for the first time.
“I used a riding crop on you,” Lord Philip answered, crying loudly now.
William frowned. Lady Aurelia had sounded more than content. What was happening in there?
“But Sahib, I begged you to punish me,” she whimpered. “What did I do wrong?”
William reached for the door just as Lord Philip stumbled out, buttoning up his trousers. To his shock, Lord Philip fell into his arms, sobbing like a baby.
“Lord Philip?”
The only answer he received was another loud wail from Lord Philip and a small sob from Lady Aurelia.
William tried again. “My lord, what of Lady Aurelia?”
Lord Philip shuddered convulsively. “Take me away,” he begged. “Take me away from this hellhole, where I disgraced myself.”
William made up his mind. He put two fingers into his mouth and whistled, the piercing call that summoned any servant within earshot. Jack, an under-gardener, arrived on the run within a minute.
“Here,” William commanded, nodding down at Lord Philip, who was now a hysterical weight on his arm. “Take him to the main house and find Lady Irene. Tell her I’ll do my best to comfort Lady Aurelia until she arrives.”
“Right.” A big man of few words at any time, Jack supported Lord Philip up the hill. William took a deep breath to compose himself and entered the pavilion.
A scene out of an Arabian fantasy met his eyes. The room was ringed with spectacular silk tapestries, while layers of silk rugs cushioned the floor. The center was occupied by an immense bed, really an enormous platform, covered by still more silks and pillows.
Lady Aurelia lay spread-eagled across this divan, held down by gilded chains which vanished into the silk. She was utterly naked, except for her gilded aureoles and pussy…which also highlighted how swollen and flushed they were. A few pale lines traced across her thighs where a riding crop had touched her. Delicate beads of her dew gleamed like diamonds on her dark thatch.
William shuddered and found it hard to breathe.
Lady Aurelia’s enormous dark eyes found him and widened. She licked her lips. “Warrior,” she whispered.
“Yes?” William rasped, all training in how to address his betters gone.
“Warrior, if I may ask you, why did Sahib leave?” Her breasts rose and fell, while her nipples hardened.
William frowned; Lady Aurelia must still be under the fantasy’s spell. He tried to answer in terms from the same imaginary world. “The Sahib was called away on important business, woman.”
“Oh,” she breathed. Her eyes flicked over his body then lingered at his crotch. William’s cock promptly tented his trousers.
“Did he send you to have your way with me, warrior? Have I been so wicked that I must serve you, too?” She licked her lips, still staring at his crotch.
William’s disbelieving eyes saw her nipples harden into stiff peaks. She must be excited by the thought of playing out this fantasy with him.
“Kadin. Pearl of the harem.” William tried to find a way to refuse, difficult when his lower parts wanted to do the thinking.
“Please, warrior, now that Sahib is gone”—her voice sharpened briefly then returned to its rich plea—“there is no master except yourself to grant me release. I beg of you, warrior, let me finish my tasks with you.”
William swallowed. Lyonsgate protocol allowed a servant to enact fantasies but only at the guest’s request.
Then he drew himself up, like a general inspecting his troops. He paced around the divan and scrutinized Lady Aurelia from every angle.
She trembled. “Warrior, what do you want of me?”
He stroked her hair and ran his fingers lightly over her face until he found the sensitive point below her ear. He stroked her neck, a caress he’d learned the maids enjoyed, and cupped her mound of Venus.
“Your musk perfumes the tent, kadin.” Without conscious volition, William’s voice had deepened.
She sighed and turned her head to kiss his hand. “Warrior,” she whispered, “I pray you, use me as you will.”
His heart stopped beating. For the first time in his life, a woman had just utterly yielded to him. He’d reward her as best he could for that.
William fondled her full breasts, teasing her until she sobbed and wriggled. He stroked her belly and chuckled when she arched to follow his touch. He traced the muscles in her thighs upward to her pussy. All the while, he watched her closely, judging her arousal.
She rocked her hips, trying to follow his light touch. “Warrior,” she moaned, “please lick my pussy.”
William fondled her nether lips again. Lady Aurelia sobbed. “Please, warrior, please taste my pussy.”
“Are you ordering me, kadin?” He managed to make his voice stern.
“Oh no, warrior, never that. But you overwhelm my senses until I can say only what my body desires,” she quavered.
He kept his gaze stern somehow, and his fingers unmoving on her pussy.
Lady Aurelia whimpered. “Your touch is a temptation, warrior. Please do with me as you will.”
William smiled. He dropped to his knees and licked her belly. She moaned again, long and low.
Her anticipation was as keen in his throat as if it were his own. He swirled his tongue lower and lower, until it delved into her thatch and circled her clit. Her body arched up, pressing her pussy against his mouth. Her hunger couldn’t have been clearer if she’d shouted it from the rooftops.
William licked her, trying a variety of strokes as he watched every expression that crossed her face. Her legs tightened on the fifth pattern, as she tried to come closer to his face. He purred silently and repeated the same stroke over and over again.
She gasped and moaned broken sentences. Her increased pulse and tension came clearly through her clit and into his mouth. He could taste her anticipation, an even finer delicacy than her musk.
“Warrior, please, put your finger into me.”
William deliberately stroked her again with his tongue, while his hands held her thighs.
Lady Aurelia groaned, shuddering under his caresses.
He slipped a single joint of his index finger into her.
Her eyes were dark and pleading, her breasts flushed. He fondled one nipple and she moaned again, her eyelids slipping down.
William slid his finger all the way into her, still licking her clit. Her sheath clamped around it eagerly. She was hot and wet, roomier than any of the serving girls under the same caress. He pumped her, slowly at first. Her sheath tightened greedily as her hips lifted toward him.
He read her reaction clearly but kept the same steady pace. She wanted more, but he’d make her ask and build her excitement while she waited.
William could feel his own self-control now, an elegant shield that her ecstasy could trust and his lust couldn’t breach. It was far more satisfying than any quick tumble with a chambermaid.
She begged for faster, then for a second finger. He gave her two fingers, using the same deliberate rhythm as with only one.
She writhed and sobbed, “Rougher, rougher, please. Oh, warrior, what must I do?”
He speeded up the tempo, enjoying how frantically she humped his hand. She was so beautiful to him as she lusted for his touch.
William considered his next move. A third finger? He’d never had more than two inside a serving girl. He shoved the third finger into her without breaking his rhythm.
“Oh yes, warrior!” she groaned and clamped down.
William smiled triumphantly. He was the one who’d brought her to this, not the weak Lord Philip. His balls were heavy and full, but not desperate for relief.
He studied Lady Aurelia again. Was she as excited as he could make her? His fingertips drummed against the sensitive spot d
eep inside her grotto.
Lady Aurelia almost came off the bed at that stroke. Her muscles clenched around his hand rhythmically and her eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling. Her gasps and groans accented the wet music of her pussy welcoming him.
William rubbed her clit hard, determined she’d reach the peak at a time of his choosing. She launched into climax, sobbing, as her channel clamped around his fingers. Her body convulsed as wave after wave rippled through her.
Finally she collapsed, gasping for breath. He caressed her hair and covered her with a silk coverlet.
“Thank you, warrior,” she whispered, and kissed his hand. “I am fortunate indeed to have served you.”
A moment later she began to snore, and William straightened up.
“Well done, Donovan.” Lady Irene’s voice was soft.
“My lady.” William bowed, startled she’d been able to approach him unawares. She handed him a towel and indicated they should leave the room.
Once outside, they stood in silence for a minute as he wiped his face and hands.
“Thank you for dealing so well with Lord Philip. He was quite complimentary about your discretion, once he recovered enough to talk sense.”
William bowed again but said nothing.
“So it seems I am once again in your debt and must ponder how best to express my thanks.”
William waited, watching her warily.
“I have been watching you closely, Donovan. You have a knack for appearing on the edge of many fantasies and also when students are being educated. How much do those activities interest you?”
His heart leapt but he kept his voice level. “A great deal, my lady.”
“Have you ever thought of entering my school here?”
William’s lips tightened. Students always began as colts or fillies, the yielding partners in a fantasy. That role held no appeal for him. “My lady,” he began.
Lady Irene laughed. “Donovan, your expression is priceless. You’ll have to manage it better if you’re to succeed. Were you thinking you’d have to become a colt?”
“Yes,” William gritted.
She chuckled. “All masters must spend at least three months as a colt or a filly, in order to better understand that side of the reins.”
William shuddered. Still, if it was the fastest way to graduate to the true curriculum, it could be worth it. He swallowed hard before answering. “Very well.”
“Are you sure?”
“Will you school me if I don’t agree to yield?”
“Certainly not.”
“Then I’ll do it.” And he’d probably puke after every lesson.
“You’re a brave man, Donovan. Educating you will be an adventure for both of us.”
Lady Irene had been quite correct: learning to be a master had taken two years of very hard work. But it had been worth every minute.
The question now was how best to use those lessons to explore Viola’s fantasies and pleasures? He had three months with her and, sweet singing Jesus, he meant to make the most of every minute.
William crossed his arms behind his head and began to plan in earnest, while his faerie maiden slept beside him in the big bed. Tomorrow he’d do his best to free up more time with her.
Morgan Evans knocked once at the office door and waited.
“Enter,” William answered, calm as always. The men now laid bets on which tune he’d whistle during an Indian fight.
Morgan obeyed, shutting the door behind him as he tossed his hat onto the rack. William nodded a welcome then returned to the column of figures he was summing up.
“Sorry about the missing clerk,” Morgan offered.
“Don’t be a fool. You couldn’t stop Crampton from breaking an arm any more than you could persuade someone else to clerk here for a few months.”
“I did find one fellow who would.”
William glanced up from the litter of paper scattered across the desk. “Then why isn’t he here?”
“Wanted miner’s wages to do so.”
William laughed. “Four dollars a day? No wonder you left him in Tucson. Have some coffee and sit down, Morgan. I’ll be with you as soon as I finish checking the munitions tally.”
Morgan poured himself a cup of coffee and added a generous dollop of milk, from one of Donovan & Sons’ local milk cows, before taking the chair across from the desk. When he’d ordered the furniture for the depot and the big compound from Missouri, he’d made sure it was large enough for either himself or William. Now he settled into the expansive upholstery with a sigh of relief. It was so much more comfortable than a wagon’s wooden seat.
He watched William unobtrusively as he sipped. Morgan had come a long way from the ragged scarecrow whom the big Irishman had hired so calmly in Memphis. But he was still learning from the man, even as he gradually built his own empire.
He followed William’s hiring practices easily now. Any man who could do the job was welcome, no matter what the color of his skin. The majority were Confederate veterans, as most teamsters in Arizona were. But there were also Union veterans, Irish, Negroes, even a pair of Cheyenne Indians working for Donovan & Sons.
Of course, doing the job meant no drinking on the trail and no starting fights, whether with Indians or other Donovan & Sons employees. There were also the other rules typical of top freighting houses: punctuality, honesty, and so on. Break any of William’s rules and he’d fire you immediately.
But if you did a good job for William, then he paid you very well indeed. Hell, William even paid your family a pension if you died while working for him. He made sure his men were fed and rested as much as possible on the trail. He was fair, generous, and better at the job than most of his employees.
Morgan considered William the brother he’d never had and the only man, other than Bedford Forrest, whom Morgan would ride through hell for.
“Did you manage to find all the chickens?” William asked.
Morgan laughed, eyes crinkling as he recalled the search. “Yes, finally. Including the ones who’d taken up housekeeping in the barn. So they’re all going to join the Army, whether they want to or not.”
William laughed with him as he finished the tally with a flourish. “Maybe they’ll like it better at the fort than in Rio Piedras.”
“Probably. William, how long before the Golconda plays out?” Morgan finally asked the question that had been burning his tongue for months. William had seen every major strike since 1855. He’d hauled freight for the fabulous Comstock Lode in Nevada when they’d first struck silver there. He’d know the answer if anyone would.
William shrugged. “Ore’s still the same quality as at the beginning. Mine’s been around over a year, so it probably struck a rich vein, not a glory hole. My guess is Lennox will have water problems before he runs out of silver ore.”
“Bad enough to shut down?”
“Maybe; there’s enough water in these rocks. Even the Comstock has been nearly closed by flooding. The big pumps which saved them can be hauled only by railroads, not wagons.”
“How long?”
“No way to tell. But last month’s cave-in could mean they’re closer to underground springs than they’d like.”
Morgan whistled. “When that happens, it’ll be time to move on to the next strike.”
William sorted the papers into neat piles, then began to file them into the appropriate cubbyholes. “For you and me and the miners, but not as easily for Lennox. There’s always money to be made, hauling supplies. The risky bet is owning a mine.”
“Big profit for the mine owner.”
“Sometimes. But nothing at all when the mine is gone.”
“Steadier money in hauling freight or selling supplies.”
“People always have to eat,” William agreed.
Morgan set down his empty cup of coffee and stretched. Now to keep William away from Lennox for a bit longer. He disliked Lennox, as did anyone who’d heard of his brutish deeds in the Shenandoah Valley. But better he
spend an hour listening to Lennox’s complaints than see William shot in the back by that murdering bastard.
“If you’d like, I’ll walk Lennox’s latest invoice up to his office now.”
“You sure? I planned to take it.”
Morgan shrugged. “I’m the one who usually discusses payment with him. I also need to talk to him about the extra dynamite he wants hauled. At a discount.”
William snorted and handed over an envelope. “Damn fool. In that case, you have my permission to talk to him. Maybe this time you’ll persuade him dynamite just can’t be treated like beans.”
Morgan rose and bowed with an exaggerated flourish, as if in his grandmother’s drawing room. “I will do my best, sir.”
William laughed again and saluted Morgan in return.
Following Lennox’s rat-faced clerk, Morgan found the mine owner poring over blueprints, apparently of a house. His office was as elegantly furnished as if it stood on Wall Street, down to the ornate glass lampshades that danced to the stamp mill’s beat.
The clerk coughed. “Mr. Evans is here to see you, sir. From Donovan & Sons,” he added, hissing the final word.
Lennox’s head came up. For a moment, his expression was as viciously cold as any rattler lurking in the rocks. Then it wiped clear, to be replaced by the appearance of warmhearted friendship.
The house shuddered and the lampshades tinkled as the stamp mill pounded rocks into dust for refining.
The hair pricked on Morgan’s neck. What the hell was going on? Lennox had never been more than grudgingly polite to him. At least the man wasn’t wearing a gun and his sword stick rested in a stand by the door.
“Evans, my dear fellow!” Lennox offered his left hand in greeting.
“Lennox.” Morgan shook it politely and retrieved his own as soon as possible. What had caused Lennox to bandage his right hand?
“Would you care to join me for a drink? Something civilized, to remind us of our families back east.” Lennox almost shouted to be heard over the stamp mill.
“Thank you,” Morgan accepted, the unexpected offer making him still more wary. Lennox providing refreshments, something he’d never done before, was like an Apache asking a cavalryman to drink from Apache Spring.
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