by Lavinia Kent
Why now of all moments in time did she feel like a lost lamb? Why did she wish to pull on her cloak and flee before Stephan could appear? What held her trapped?
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
She tried to think, tried to understand this sudden fear.
She never felt afraid, was so eager to enjoy life, to not miss a moment or a single experience.
So why did she now wish to hide under the covers and never come out?
Another breath.
This mattered. That was the heart of the issue.
It was hard to admit it, so much easier to hide from it, but this coming moment could mean everything. If she let Stephan in now, she was letting him in forever.
And if she let him in she could be hurt, hurt in ways she was not sure she could survive.
If he ever left her…
Oh God, she really did want to run. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t.
Rising to her feet, she paced for a moment, her hands pleating the fine linen. Her father would let her come home. He would understand. He knew what it was like to be inconsistent, to change his mind at a moment’s notice. He understood what it was to be unreliable.
And Swanston? Swanston was unsure of her marriage; he would support her fleeing from it.
Or would he? Swanston always stood by the commitments that he made.
And so did she. That was one thing she had always stood by. She might be flighty and inconsistent, but she always stood by her word. She had stood in St. George’s this morning and given her word and now she would stand by it.
She clenched her fingers tight. The effort of being the woman she wanted to be was almost too much for her in this moment; tension built behind her eyes.
And then it did not matter. The door opened and there he stood. Stephan Andrew James Perth, Earl of Duldon. He wore a robe of emerald green brocade, his legs and feet bare beneath it.
Their eyes met and held, and she felt like every secret she’d ever had was open for his viewing.
“Come here.” His voice was cold and commanding, but his eyes were filled with heat.
Her inner muscles clenched and she could feel dampness between her thighs. “Why?” Without realizing it she crossed her arms across her chest, protecting her heart.
“Come here.” There was a bit more iron in his voice this time.
She wanted this. She should not, but she did. She took a step forward, and then another. Stopped. The wanting only increased the knots of fear that wrapped her belly.
“Closer.”
She knew she was testing him, pushing him, but she could not help it. She inched forward.
“Do not make me ask you again, Bliss.”
Tingles ran down her spine as she took the final step.
“Good girl.”
“Don’t talk to me like I am a hound.” She had not meant to snap.
He laughed. “Then don’t act like a puppy needing to be trained.”
Her bristles rose, but so did the heat deep in her belly. Even her nerves could not stop her awareness of every inch of her body, of the cool boards beneath her bare toes, of the brush of fabric across her stomach, of how her pebbled nipples pushed tight against the lace edging of her bodice, and of the blush in her cheeks beneath his gaze. “Then don’t order me about like one.”
“But you like my orders.”
She wanted to argue, oh, how she wanted to argue. Her eyes dropped and she stared down at her pink toes peeking out beneath the white of her shift.
He laughed again softly, sweetly. “You were made for me, Bliss. I’ve known it for years, but every second it becomes more true.”
His words should have brought reassurance, but instead she felt the fear in her belly grow. She’d tried to move past her fears, but every wonderful word he said only made her more aware that someday he might leave her. Her hands clenched tighter until she felt her nails bite into the tender flesh of her palms. “Why do you do this to me?”
“Why do I do what?” There was a brief second of true confusion in his voice.
“Why do you make me want things I should not? Why do you make me need things I have never needed? Why can you not let me just be carefree, pursuing fun and laughter?”
He stiffened for a moment. Even without looking at his face, she could feel the consideration in his gaze. “Take off your chemise, Bliss.” He spoke with absolute authority and command.
It was not the answer she had expected, but somehow it calmed her as nothing else would. This she could do. This small order she could obey. No thought was required. Her hands rose to the ribbon, which ran through the lace at the top of the bodice. With one sharp pull, it came free. Her fingers stayed there, poised at the neckline of her chemise, her gaze still focused down.
With the slightest of shrugs, she moved her shoulders until the straps slipped down. Her hands still held the fabric just above her breasts. She had never been so aware of her body and of the thin layer cloaking it, if not hiding it completely.
It was hard to say why she did not let the chemise drop further. Stephan had seen her naked before. She even understood the power a woman had in her own nakedness. If anything she had far more control when she stood unclothed than when the thin layer of cloth shielded her. Naked she was a creature of desire, clothed she was still held by the conventions of society. If only she let the covering fall then she could be herself, needing no mask to hide all that she was.
And yet she hesitated.
“Look at me, Bliss. Do not hide yourself.” His voice called her and yet she was not sure.
She should answer. She should say something—or else look up at him—and yet she stayed quiet.
“Are you seeking another punishment, Bliss? Is that what you want?”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Punishment? Did she wish that? Is that what she was seeking? It was hard to admit even to herself that she might wish such a thing. How could any woman of self-respect allow a man such power over her, and yet…It got to her. It would be impossible to pretend that it didn’t. The thought of his hand smacking down upon her ass tied her innards in knots that were not at all unpleasant—and the sense of freedom that came after, that was incredible. When she gave herself to him, gave herself completely to him, then she could release all worry, all fear, and simply be. She pressed her thighs together tighter. “I do not know what I want.” She spoke the words so softly that they were hardly more than a whisper.
“Haven’t you realized yet, Bliss, that that is an answer by itself? Perhaps in not knowing you are waiting for someone else to make the decision for you.”
Was that it? She was still working to understand her own thoughts. “I wish that I were clearer. I understand the truth in what you say, and yet it is not so simple. I cannot deny, no matter how much I might like to, that there is an attraction in what you say—and yet, I do need choice.”
“I think that is what you are slow to realize, my love. Your submission is a choice. I cannot force you to give in to me…well, perhaps I could, but then it would be force and not a gift.”
His words made so much sense and yet the edge of fear remained. If she gave in to him, gave him her all, then what would she be left with when he was gone? Tears welled behind her eyes. This was the heart of the matter, the heart of everything.
Her mind circled back.
If she allowed herself to love him he would leave. They always did.
Her mother—in death. Her father—in grief and lack of responsibility. Her brother—in too much responsibility and then in Louisa. Nobody that she needed stayed and cared for her, stayed and loved her. Even Stephan had left her once before, when he went to Clarissa, believing that Bliss was still too young. She might now understand, but the pain had not vanished.
The first of the tears leaked from her eyes, and she could not hold it back, and yet refused to acknowledge it.
“What did I say, Bliss?” His voice rang with concern.
“You ask too much.”
Was that true? Did he offer as much as he asked? She focused on his face, taking in the tight lips, pinched brow and the eyes that sought pieces of her soul. “I want to believe you. I do. But it is such a risk to take. How can I be sure?”
He stepped away from her and went to sit on the edge of the great bed. He patted the spot beside him. “Come. Sit.”
The command in his voice spoke to her and she found herself moving without thought. She settled herself on the bed beside him, her chemise held tight against her chest. The heat of his body called to her and she inched closer until their thighs touched.
After a moment his arm moved behind her and he pulled her close until she was cradled against his body. “There are few guarantees in life. I wish I could give them to you. I wish I could tell you that the world will be filled with spring lilacs and moonlight dances, but troubles do come and I cannot stop them. What I can do is promise to be there to share them with you.”
“But that is exactly what I am not sure I believe in. I don’t believe that people stay, and certainly not that they stay the same. How can I be sure that you will not leave me?” Her voice was trembling.
His arm crushed her closer. “What do you want me to say, Bliss? I cannot promise not to die like your mother. If I could, I would. But no man can make that promise. What I can promise is that nothing short of death will take me from you. I have known you were mine for years; do you really think I will change my mind now? When have you ever known me to change my mind?”
“You didn’t stay with me when I was seventeen and needed you.”
He released a long sigh. “I did fail you then, but it was not that I had changed my mind. I think you do understand that. I want you. I have always wanted you. I will not give up.”
Could it be true? Stephan was amazingly stubborn. He never gave up on something once he made up his mind. “No, but it’s not like I can tie you to me.”
“Don’t you realize that you already have? You have me bound as surely as if chains trapped us.”
“I do?” Was that hope that sounded in her voice? She rather thought it was.
“Yes, you do. I am yours as surely as you are mine.” He spoke with absolute confidence and she began to find herself believing him.
“How do you know that I am yours?” She forced a hint of humor into her voice, but there was no mistaking the seriousness of the question.
“Do you need me to prove it to you? To bind you so that you know no escape?” His voice darkened as he spoke and there was no mistaking the sudden shift in mood. “You did seem to like the scarves when I wrapped them about your wrists.” The arm that held her reached down and his hand took hers, his fingers reaching down to fully circle her wrist like a cuff.
A shiver ran down her spine at his control. She let her eyes drift shut, concentrated on the feel of his fingers holding her tight, giving her no options. It was a fantasy she knew. If she pulled back, he would let her go. Stephan would never force her to do anything—not unless she wanted him to. And she did want this. She was rational enough to understand that. She might feel fear, but it was not truly of Stephan and certainly not of what would happen between them in this chamber. It was up to her what happened next. It was her choice. “Do you really think that will hold me? Surely you can do better than that.” She pulled against his wrist, but only lightly, making it clear she had no true wish to escape.
She felt the deep breath that left him at her playful response. “I can hold you however I choose. Do I need to demonstrate?”
“I rather think you do.” She spoke far more boldly than she felt, her emotions rising and falling as quickly as an ocean wave in the midst of a tempest.
He slid off the bed, her wrist still wrapped in his long fingers, and turned to face her, his knees settling against hers. “Let the shift drop.”
There was no room for question. She forced her free hand away from her chest, letting the covering drop from her breasts. It instantly fell to settle about her waist, pooling in her lap. Her gaze followed the chemise down, dropping from his. Her breasts rose pale and firm; the pink marks of the wax had faded and only a single scratch marked her. Temple’s mark.
Stephan reached out with his free hand and traced the line. Her eyes darted up to his face, his lips had tensed, but he said nothing. With the hand locked about her wrist he pulled her from the bed so that she stood before him. The chemise completed its journey and dropped to the floor. Her gaze dropped back down, sudden shyness filling her.
He had seen her naked before, but she had been caught up in passion at the time, swept away by the fire in his gaze. Now she was returned to shyness and modesty.
“Look at me, Bliss.” Again he spoke with absolute command and authority.
Her gaze lifted slowly, up his bare legs, past the hem of his green robe, across broad chest and wide shoulders, along the column of his neck, the rugged chin, faintly marked with stubble, over the pressed lips, until finally she met his flashing blue eyes. They shone with heat despite his cold demeanor. “Yes, my lord.”
His lips twitched. He’d clearly heard the satire that marked her tone.
“Keep looking straight ahead. Step forward.”
She did as directed, desire coiling deep in her belly, her bare feet padding on the cool wood floor. The embarrassment was still there, but want and need began to overcome it—and power. With each glance of his heated gaze she could feel herself grow, feel herself become more.
“Another step.”
Again her feet moved. She relaxed, letting herself sink into his direction.
“Where are your pearls, Bliss?” His voice wafted about her, soft, seductive, but his words caused her to freeze.
Her emotions landed like a rock. “Why do you want them?”
“I would like to play with them. Do I need to say more?”
Her desire to please warred with the memories the pearls always awoke within her. “I do not like the pearls.”
“Where are they, Bliss?”
“On the top of my dresser, by the mirror. They are put away in a purple silk bag,” she answered, but did not try to contain the displeasure in her voice.
Stephan didn’t say anything as he walked to the dresser and lifted the large, heavy bag and brought it to the bed. In a single motion he upended it and endless feet of pearls spilled out upon the coverlet. He slipped one finger under the long strand and lifted it. The pearls shimmered in the candlelight, pieces of the moon shining softly. He pulled the strand and it slithered over the coverlet before falling free. He had to lift his arm so that they would not trail on the floor. He walked toward her, holding the strand out. “Why do you dislike them so? They are almost as exquisite as you.”
Her eyes dropped. He had demanded honesty and she could give him no less. “They were my mother’s.”
“Tell me more,” his voice commanded.
“Every time I look at them I remember her and I do not want to remember. Every time I wear them I feel like she is with me.”
“And that is not a good thing? You’ve said that you loved your mother and she loved you. I would think you would like the reminder.” He moved his hands, letting the pearls play between his fingers.
She turned her cheek away. “But she is not with me. That is what I always come back to. My mother died and left me. I want her, not some silly piece of frippery.” The tears of earlier threatened again.
“I know you do. That is why you have been angry all these years.”
“Nobody ever understands that. Do you know how many times I have been told I am lucky to have such a treasure? That I should be grateful to own such a wonder? I don’t want them. I never wanted them. I only wanted her.”
“Shhh, I do understand. And I am sure that she wanted to be there for you.”
“Then why did she leave me?” The words came out a plaintive cry and Bliss wished she could pull them back into her.
Stephan was silent. He lifte
d the pearls and placed them against her cheek. She braced herself; they were always cold and heavy when she put them on, but now they brushed against her, warm from his skin.
He rolled them back and forth. “I am sure she did not want to leave you, that she would have done anything in her power to stay. Can you not think of them as a gift from her?”
“That is not enough.” She knew she sounded ungrateful, and frankly ridiculous, standing here naked, being rubbed by pearls and complaining that her mother had left her all those years ago.
“I know it is not enough, Bliss. But you must let go of the anger. It is keeping you from living as you are meant to live.” He rolled the pearls one more time, but this time it was his fingers that caressed her, that ran down her cheek, her neck, her arm.
“You mean living as a Danser, full of fun and life.” There was bitterness in her voice.
“No, Bliss. I mean living as yourself, no pretense. Just let it all go and be yourself, be the woman I see, the woman fighting to be free. Give her the choice, do not keep her trapped with your anger and despair. Give her hope.”
“I don’t know if I can.” The words were so quiet it was hard even for her to hear them.
Stephan looped the pearls about her wrist. “Then you admit that she is there?”
“Yes.” Again the word was almost soundless.
“And do you admit that she is mine, that you are mine?”
Her whole body began to tremble. “I cannot deny it.”
“And do you admit that you dared me to hold you, to bind you to me—that you dared me to hold you however I chose?” He pulled her arm back with the pearls until it hung behind her, resting against the upper curves of her buttocks.
“I did say the words,” she answered quietly, trying to understand his actions.
Stephan’s other hand caught her other wrist, bringing it back to rest against the first. The pearls loosened and then looped about them both, drawing tight. Another loop. And then another.