Clockwork Countess

by Delphine

  She shook her head, "But–"

  "No," he insisted. "You say you think we could be friends, but you know there is more than that between us. The truth is, I've loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you, Rowan. I, who understand so brilliantly the working of scientific theory, will never understand how upon looking into the dear face of a woman I'd never met before, somehow found the companion of my soul. In the spark of a moment! No laboratory can measure it or prove it. No science quantify how it can be. And yet, it's more real to me than all the facts and theories I have ever learned. I love you, but because I do, I can never allow you to stay."

  Tears were running unchecked down her flushed cheeks as she grasped at his hand. "But if we love each other surely we can find a way!"

  "Don't you understand?" he asked bitterly. "I have already destroyed one person I love. I cannot do it again."

  It was like someone had sucked all the air out of her, to know that he loved her, that they loved each other, and yet she must leave.

  The sound of a coach clattering to a stop before the manor house made them pause and turn their gaze to the tower window.

  Through the haze of her pain, Rowan wondered who could be coming to Heartwycke at this late hour?

  Below, Edmund threw open the carriage door and stumbled out onto the driveway, not drunk this time but so hurried it made him clumsy. Even from their vantage point up in the tower it was clear something was dreadfully wrong.

  “Damn him, what has he gotten into now?” cursed Rockerick before quickly tuning back to Rowan. “You had better return to your chamber.”

  But instead she followed Roderick as he flew down the twisting stairs.

  When they reached the landing of the great hall, Edmund rushed forward, grasping Roderick by the lapels of his dressing gown, a wild fierce look in his pale eyes. "They're after me! You've got to help!"

  Roderick gripped Edmund's wrists hard, forcing his brother to release him. "You've more gambling debts, is that it? Now they've called in their markers?"

  Edmond pressed his white lips together and nodded. "You've got to help me! I'm the earl, damn it––all this is mine by right!"

  "Not yet, Edmund," came a cold clear voice from the top of the landing.

  Everyone looked up to see the countess calmly descending the stairs. Though clad only in her chemise, her black hair falling in lose waves down her back, she still maintained her elegant hauteur. Rowan shivered as she took in the gleam of the steel corset beneath the countess's fine linen.

  "Mother!" Edmund rushed up the stairs to meet her halfway. "You once loved me. For God's sake, if you've anything human left in you, help me! One word from you and I'm saved!"

  The countess arched a brow. "Did you not understand your brother when he told you your gambling debts would no longer be covered?"

  "But...but I'll die...." he stammered. "This time they mean it!" He fell to her knees groveling as tears of fright streaked his livid cheeks. "Don't let them kill me, Mother! I beg you!"

  Rowan turned to Roderick. She could see the anger all mixed-up with pity and loathing in his face. He met her gaze and gave her a tight jerk of a nod. He would not let his brother die.

  Roderick took a step forward to call Edmund back, but before he could, the countess knelt and lifted her first born son's chin, so that he looked straight into those cold steel gray eyes. "You are not worthy to be the heir to Heartwycke Park. Your death will assist in the better running of the place and you shall not be missed." She rose and shook off her skirts where her son's touch had rumpled them.

  Edmund stared up at his mother with wide unblinking eyes for a moment, then he lunged for her throat, his hands closing round her flawless white skin in murderous rage.

  "Edmund!" Roderick leaped forward, and with a sharp wrench, grasped his brother by the shoulders and threw him to the side of the stairs, away from the countess.

  For a moment Edmond just lay there stunned, panting, but then he growled. "You think you have me, do you? That you can protect this monstrous clockwork doll of yours? Well, I know more than you think!"

  And before anyone could stop him, Edmund raced down the stairs to the fireplace. Grasping the heavy iron coal shovel in his shaking fists, he turned to the great clock and struck with all his force.

  Shattering glass flew, and Edmund attacked again, this time harder with all the madness of his fury, splintering the carved ebony.

  "Edmund stop! You'll kill her!" roared Roderick, preparing to leap forward to restrain his brother. But a grip like iron circled his wrist. He looked up confused to see the countess, her steady hand locked around his arm. He stared into her eyes but her face was as unreadable in its perfection as a porcelain figurine's.

  With one last burst of mad rage, Edmund bashed the clock again, finally cracking the massive swaying pendulum in half. The brass clanged to the floor, the broken top swayed drunkenly as the filigreed hands twitched and went still.

  Edmund collapsed against the frame of the destroyed clock, but the frame could no longer hold the heavy carved marble owl that crowned the instrument, and before he could jump aside, the statue lurched forward, like a night bird swooping down on its prey.

  Edmund screeched and fell back on the slick marble floor as the heavy owl landed.

  Rowan gasped and turned away, as feeling suddenly lightheaded she held the railing tightly for support.

  The countess released her grip on Roderick's wrist and he rushed down to his brother's side. But it was too late. The heavy marble statue had crushed Edmund's chest in.

  Roderick looked up at Rowan and shook his head, tears brightening his dark eyes.

  But Rowan jerked her head back as the whisper of fine linen shifting on the stairs behind her sent the hairs on the back of her neck on end.

  The countess lay still and unearthly beautiful, her white linen gown and black hair trailing across the marble stairs.

  Roderick followed Rowan's gaze and his lips went white. Slowly, like a man walking through a nightmare, he ascended the stairs and knelt at his mother's side.

  He pressed his ear to her heart, listening.

  Rowan held her breath as he raised his head from the countess's silent breast. "My mother's gone," he whispered.

  He pressed his forehead to the countess's limp hand in grief.

  Rowan gently caressed the bowed lines of his shoulders. "This is not your mother, Roderick. Your mother's spirit has been with God for all this time."

  He nodded and allowed the countess's hand to slip gently from his fingers to rest on the marble stairs.

  For the first time since Rowan had arrived at Heartwycke Park, the house was silent, the nerve grinding tick, tick, tick of the clocks at last suspended. She reached out for Roderick, to hold and comfort him.

  His strong arms folded around her as he burrowed his head in her neck and pulled her close.

  As the muddle of grief and horror began to dim a bit in their warm embrace, the silence of the house deepened. Outside the falling snow blanketed the manor in a soft mantle of white and Heartwycke Park was at peace.

  EPILOGUE

  Rowan put down the ivory brush she used to untangle the sea-blown waves of her copper curls as Roderick entered the luxuriously appointed stateroom of their steamship. She reclined against the pillows, taking in the pleasing sight of her striking new husband approaching in his dressing gown, a mischievous smile lighting up his face.

  "What is it?" she asked, a tinge nervously, pulling her knees up to tuck her feet under the snowy linen of her night robe.

  His smile spread into a boyish grin as he took her hand in his, carefully keeping the other concealed behind his back. "A wedding night surprise for my thoroughly ravishing wife."

  He lifted her hand to kiss it and Rowan was happily aware of the heavy golden band on her finger, even as the warmth of his mouth on her skin made her almost purr like a contented kitten, and she stretched her legs across the bed, basking in the glow of having him near.

  Ro
derick's eyes darkened with desire as he looked down at her bare calves and the outline of her plump thighs beneath the sheer linen nightdress. "So beautiful," he whispered, as he caressed the turn of her ankle and ran his fingers tenderly along her smooth skin, carefully lifting her gown to expose her knees, allowing the fabric to fall back around the tops of her milky thighs.

  Rowan sucked in her breath as he more boldly ran his palm along her delicate skin, tantalizingly close to her awakening sex. "You said, a surprise?" she reminded him breathlessly.

  He leaned down to lightly kiss the soft flesh of her inner thigh, sending a wave of heat racing through her. "Patience darling."

  He smiled wickedly as he moved his mouth higher up, so achingly close to the place where her linen gown was bunched up between her legs, her toes curled in pleasure against the silken sheets. She no longer cared what tricks or surprises he had in store for her, if only he would keep kissing her there, if only....

  Unconsciously, she spread her legs open, lying back against the pillows as his hot mouth and velvet tongue kissed her inner thighs. Her eyes closed as he began nuzzling her sex, only the fine linen separating him from the throbbing tender bud of her flesh.

  But to her dismay, Roderick pulled back, and propping his head on his elbow, lay down next to her so she could see straight into those dark gypsy prince eyes.

  "The first time can be difficult for a woman," he drawled," toying with the ribbon that held her nightgown in place. He slowly pulled the lacing open, and with one hand still hidden behind his back, slid Rowan's gown down one shoulder and then the other, so that the rosy tips of her nipples were just exposed. "But science may come to our aid!"

  She felt wanton and complete desirable under his hot gaze, and arched her back so her half-bared breasts strained against her gown, willing him to trail his fingers along the top of her décolletage.

  In response to her silent call, Roderick reached for her, his thumbs making maddening soft erotic swirls around the tips of her aching nipples.

  "I thought you'd given up science," she teased, provocatively arching her back even more so her whisper thin gown fell lightly around her waist.

  Passion flared in his eyes as Roderick took in the sight of his half clad bride. "Well, in light of our coming honeymoon adventure at the Chicago World's Fair, I felt a burst of inspiration," he admitted, cupping the fullness of her breast in his hand, his voice coming rougher now as his fingers pinched at her taut buds.

  "Ah, something to rival Mr. Tesla's electric show," she moaned, as Roderick bent his mouth over her breasts, sucking at her in a way that made her womb clench up in mounting tension, "or the giant wheel under construction by Mr. Ferris?" she panted.

  Roderick pulled away from her tempting curves and looked down at her flushed face. "You shall have to wait until we reach the fair to determine that, but it is my hope you will be shocked and amazed beyond all reason by my little invention."

  "Indeed?" she arched a brow. "Show me."

  He smiled devilishly. "At your command, countess."

  He leaned back and a soft buzzing sound filled the room.

  Rowan's eyes darted to his in surprise. "Roderick, what is that?"

  His voice grew low with desire. "Show yourself to me Rowan and you shall find out."

  Rowan blushed to the roots of her copper curls as she took in his meaning, but a thrill of excitement surged through her too at the idea of showing off her body to him, to heighten his lust, and in doing so, her own.

  Gathering her courage, Rowan parted her thighs and pulled the damp linen gown away from her sex to expose herself completely to her husband's admiring gaze.

  "Christ, you're perfect," he moaned as he ran his palm once more up her inner thigh, squeezing it as his fingers came so achingly close to the place she longed to be touched.

  "Close your eyes," he whispered.

  Rowan obeyed, feeling the anticipation of her tense heated body waiting for whatever pleasures Roderick had in store for her.

  She gasped at the feel of the tip of his tongue tracing the outline of her flesh, the warmth, the heat was beyond delicious! She writhed under the touch of his tongue. The mounting wave of tension in her womb was becoming almost too much to bear. Then the buzzing sound grew louder.

  Rowan's eyes popped open and she jolted back, stunned by the almost violent intensity of the sensation against her sensitive skin. She looked down and Roderick held a small vibrating device in his hand, so tantalizingly close to her sex.

  He took her hand and pressed the mechanical device into her palm. "You do it, Rowan. Let me watch you."

  "You created this?" she asked, staring at the little shivering machine in wonder.

  "As a wedding gift for my lady's pleasure," he took her hand with the vibrating toy in it and gently ran it along her inner thigh, "let me see you, " he whispered, his voice ragged with reined in passion.

  Leaning back again, Rowan tentatively placed the device against her sex. A wave of pleasure rocked through her entire body, spreading heat up into her breasts and flushed cheeks. She gasped and shivered under the vibration against her damp skin, and now Roderick was up against her, pushing his fingers inside her virgin flesh, fulfilling a need she didn’t even know she had. The pulsing of the device and the rhythm of Roderick’s fingers plunging in and out of her was more than she could stand.

  An explosion of starlight splintered behind her closed eyes as her body spasmed in a rush of pleasure around Roderick’s slick fingers, sweeping her away into oblivion, as her body contracted in one pulsing release after another until she lay spent on the silken sheets.

  Yet she wanted more.

  With her body still pounding and wet with desire, Rowan pulled at Roderick's dressing gown, revealing his beautiful masculine body and the thrust of his hard cock pressing insistently upwards. She took his velvet shaft into her hands. "I want you," she panted.

  Tossing the vibrating device to the side, Roderick positioned himself on top of her. "I think you're ready now," he whispered, cupping her face in his hands as she felt the tip of him probe her entrance, stretching her virginity.

  But her hot, wet flesh was willing, and he slowly began to move in and out of her, setting off a new storm of pulsing, blinding sensation as her orgasm reignited even more powerfully than the first time and she cried out in pleasure as his body joined more deeply with hers. She bucked and moaned under him as, at last, with one hard thrust, he pierced the barrier of her virginity, the pain almost pleasurable amidst the waves of her shuddering, rushing gratification.

  He called out too, and his tempo increased as he released his seed into her, just as she opened her eyes, her body relaxing enough to be present and take in the beauty of his flushed face for his final moment of ecstasy.

  He collapsed on her breast and they just lay there, warm skin on skin, breathing as they came back to themselves again.

  Rowan drew her fingers lightly along his back, reveling in the feel of her husband's skin under her touch. He looked up at her and pressed a kiss in the hollow between her breasts.

  She smiled. "I am pleased to see you've turned your mind back to scientific pursuits, my lord."

  Roderick grinned sleepily up at her. "We shall see what new creations I can dream up to please you."

  Rowan shivered in anticipated pleasure as she snuggled deeper into her husband's arms. She closed her eyes and allowed the soft hiss of the steamer boat and the gentle rocking of the sea lull her to sleep, content at last with her true love's heart beating against her own.

  EXCERPT FROM:

  CLEOPATRA'S SECRET:

  THE KEEPERS OF THE LIGHT

  by

  Lydia Storm

  "The difference between history and mythology is that mythology is true. History gets rewritten by every generation."

  –– Guru Singh

  INSCRIPTION ON THE TOMB OF CLEOPATRA VII, THEA PHILOPATER

  I am the daughter of Isis, Mistress of Magic. I hold the power of worlds between my
jeweled fingers. I am keeper of the Mysteries of Egypt. I call up the ocean tempests and calm the shining sea. I am Beauty. I stir agonies of rapture in the night between women and men. No man can resist the rose-petal softness of my dusky skin, the lure of my honey-toned call, or the seduction of delights to be found behind the veil of incense in my dark chamber. I am sister and wife of Osiris. Mother of immortal Horus. I am the Lady of Dreams. I pass like moonbeams through men’s souls revealing the divine light within. I am Lady of Fate. Even the Gods bend to my will. My secrets, like pearls in deep ocean vaults, lie hidden beneath lapping waves––safe from the uninitiated. I am Isis, I am Mother, I am Cleopatra, last Pharaoh of Egypt. The wisdom I hold in my watery tomb shall be revealed again, when Fate will have it so.

  PROLOGUE

  Unnatural, this quiet.

  Cleopatra’s jade eyes glittered in the moonlight, her long copper limbs twisted uncomfortably in the fine linen sheets and a faint glow of perspiration covered her softly curved body. She glanced at her infant son, Caesarion, snuggled at her side. His fluttery breath tickled her neck, his chubby hand resting on her collarbone. Her attendants, Iris and Charmion, lay at the foot of her bed peacefully dreaming on silken pallets carried from Alexandria along with the perfumes and incense Cleopatra had brought with her as tokens of her cherished Egypt.

  Although this was the most spacious chamber in the villa Caesar had provided for her stay in Rome, it was cramped and crude compared with the fabulous palace she left behind. But then, she expected no more from the Romans, who dedicated their skill and expertise more to the art of destruction than to the fashioning of beautiful homes.

  Tonight, however, she had little thought for Roman artistry––or lack of it. With the intense focus of a priestess of Isis, she concentrated on the strange moon which spilled its sickly light across the floor. Only the last quarter remained. Soon the nights would be dark and Black Isis would have her reign.