by Tia Wylder
"I have something to tell you," she blurted in excitement, and he grinned a friendly smile, taking a step away from her.
"Yes, well. First, I have something to ask you," he replied casually. He reached into his pocket, rummaging around for a moment before withdrawing a small velvet box. Kira's eyes widened, and her mouth fell agape as Hercules popped the box open. Within was held perhaps the largest diamond she had ever seen in her life. She gasped as the man dropped to one knee, holding the ring out to her. "Kira, I've loved you from the moment we met a year ago. You gave me life in a way no one else could have… quite literally," he paused, and the two shared a laugh. "It would make me the happiest man in the world if you would do me the honor of being my wife," he murmured. Tears spilled down Kira's cheek, and she fumbled with the bathroom counter, knocking over her cup of urine and fumbling to grab the test. "What on earth--," he began, smiling in confusion as the woman whirled around to press the stick into his hand. He looked down at it for a moment, eyes narrowing in further confusion. However, when it struck him just what the three letter word meant, he shouted out in joy. Kira leaped into his arms, pressing rapid and tender kisses against his lips as he struggled to place the ring on her finger. When it slipped into place, he gave a victorious whoop, stumbling backward out of the bathroom.
He collapsed back onto the single piece of furniture remaining in the living room, pulling her on top of him. Her round belly rested on his waist, and he leaned up to capture her lips with his own.
“This is the happiest day of my life,” she blurted. “And I can think of only one way to make it better. Let’s say goodbye to this shoddy apartment in the best way I can think of,” she murmured, pulling her shirt off over her head. She tossed it to the side, stretching out on top of him much like a pleased feline. He wrapped an arm around her waist, leaning back as she fidgeted with the button on his jeans.
“There are a lot of memories on this couch,” he murmured, breathing a sigh as his length was set free. She settled on top of him, intent upon enjoying the last moments they would be able to make love before the baby came along.
"And we'll be making dozens more, together. A lifetime more," she murmured. The two moved together in a smooth rhythm, and Hercules breathed a content sigh before speaking.
“A lifetime for you. Two lifetimes for me, technically,” he said teasingly. She smiled, nudging his shoulder gently.
“I couldn’t have asked for a better ghost to haunt my bedroom,” she said warmly. He paused for a moment, pressing up into her before speaking in a strangled voice to correct her.
“Former ghost.”
Loved By The Rake
Chapter One
Sinner! Whore! Wretch! Fallen woman!
But it's not my fault! He took me in the night while I slept, even as I begged him to stop!
Did you hear? Charlie Monroe's daughter bore a child out of wedlock! Can you believe! It's that new money, the middle class can't handle the rise in status, it overheats their brains. Didn't Charlie die a few years back? Poor girl lost her way without her father around to guide her. What a pity, she's so lovely, could have made a good wife for someone someday.
A poorhouse is no place for a baby, young missy. There's charity homes you might take 'er to, churches and the like.
I'm so hungry, I'm not producing enough milk for Rosie, she cries for hours from hunger, she is weak, her strength is fading, she's stopped crying, my child is dying, I must surrender her to save her.
I'm a failure as a mother.
Rumor has it that Lord Blackwood has his eye on you, girly, he's seen you in town, he knew your father.
Write him. Tell him I accept. I'll leave straight away.
Rosie, I'm coming!
***
Lily Monroe's heart was pounding as her carriage came to a halt outside the palatial Blackwood Hall. Situated on the outskirts of London, the estate boasted lavish gardens on all sides, bordered by high, spiked, wrought-iron fences. The facade was fashionable, with ornately carved moulding and stonework, but much of it was painted black or left its natural gray. The somber house seemed at odds with the garden outside, which was well-tended and tidy. She could just picture little Rosie running and shrieking about in the yard, chasing a ball or a hoop, and she would be well-fed, and warmly dressed, and Lily would know forever that her child was cared for. This thought made Lily smile as the coachman opened the door for her and helped her out. As it was now, she could only wonder whether Rosie was happy, and hope and pray that the charity home was taking good care of her.
Marry Blackwood, get Rosie back, were Lily's sole aims in life. Blackwood was such a repugnant man with such a horrendous reputation that after his second wife (rumored to be just as ugly and only half as agreeable as Lord Blackwood) died, there were no eligible women yet left in polite society who would consent to marry him.
Except for Lillian Monroe.
Her straits were dire indeed to ignore the warnings her uncle had given her as she readied to leave his home, but for years the guilt of abandoning her baby on the steps of the church had plagued her, and for years her heart had ached to see Rosie again. But the destitute orphan of impoverished aristocrats had not a cent to her name, and no means to care for her child. Lily could barely even care for herself, and she was now half-starved and sometimes sickly, forcing her into her uncle's care.
The only blessing to arise from her terrible circumstances was a fashionably tiny, seventeen-inch waist. Lily was laced so tight she could hardly breathe, the bones of the corset bruising the bones of her ribs, and as the manservant led her up the stairs, she surreptitiously pinched her cheeks to make her complexion more lively. Her heart was in her throat now as the front door of Blackwood Hall swung open, revealing a spacious, lavish interior that belied the family's long-standing wealth. Lily had to remind herself not to gape, for she was supposed to be a girl of breeding, even if destitute, and she knew it was rude to stare, but from the shining mahogany floors to the high, carved ceilings with colorful frescoes painted at the top of the walls, she had never seen anything so magnificent.
“Lovely, I know,” said a gruff voice from behind, heralding the arrival of a cloud of tobacco smoke and a certain other... odor. So, the rumors were true. Lily steeled herself and thought of Rosie, as she always did when faced with difficulty, and found the strength to plaster on a honeyed simper and turn around to meet, for the first time, her fiance.
He was of a height with Lily, which was remarkable, since Lily was not a tall girl, and he was thrice as wide as she. He bore his teeth at her in what she supposed was meant to be a smile but it was not very merry, nor could she focus on it very well for she was distracted by the appalling state of Lord Blackwood's teeth. Several were missing, and the others were brown and yellow from years of excessive smoking. He reeked of tobacco, was smoking tobacco (making Lily's eyes water and forcing her to suppress her coughs), and when he moved, a smell wafted from his person that made Lily think he had not bathed since the New Year. He was also more than twice her age, with wiry gray hair growing in unruly tufts from the sides of his head, but the dome of his scalp was bald and reflecting the light from the sconces on the wall. He had an unkempt mustache to match his hair. After trying to smile at Lily, Lord Blackwood put his pipe back in his mouth and furrowed his brow at her in appraisal.
Lily was twenty (to Blackwood's fifty), with soft, wavy blonde hair and gray-blue eyes. Her hair was pulled back and pinned in rosettes at the back of her head with just a few curls framing her face. The years of hardship had given her a delicate, angelic aspect, with wide eyes, pale skin, and a fragile frame. Her last pound had gone to purchasing the frock she wore, which was secondhand and at least two seasons out of fashion, but a pale blue color that enhanced her pallor, and of a cut which flattered her already pleasing figure. She widened her smile and curtsied at Blackwood.
“So thin,” he grumbled, “you look like a bloody scullery maid, but eh, you'll do.” Blackwood waved a hand in a circ
le, indicating she should turn around. “Hideous frock. My God. You'll change out of that at once. Minnie will help you. Go on change, or you'll spoil my appetite. Then join us for supper.”
Lord Blackwood lumbered off in a cloud of smoke, and a maid of an age with Lily took Lily's hand and led her down the hall to the stairwell. Lily bit back a retort that perhaps Lord Blackwood's appetite could use spoiling on occasion, judging by his size, but she needed Blackwood to like her so she kept it to herself.
As she followed Minnie up the stairs, Lily locked eyes with the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, whose face was so devastating and his body so slender and strong that her knees felt weak and she had to lean on the banister for a second. He was tall and very sharply dressed, with arresting blue eyes and tidy auburn hair.
It was easy to recover her wits, however, when the gorgeous man scowled at her in open disgust at her waifish appearance, then turned to Minnie and graced her with a devilish grin and a squeeze on the bustle, before sauntering off down the stairs and to the dining room.
“The young Mr. Blackwood, I assume,” Lily grumbled.
“Yes, ma'am,” Minnie said, blushing and breathless.
Chapter Two
“Lovely,” said Lily. “So the whole family is as charming as Lord Blackwood?” She cringed a little as she realized what she'd said. The stress must have been getting to her, because she was usually very polite, but Lily could hardly remember her last full meal or her last good night's rest, and now all this, no wonder she was feeling irritable.
Minnie only giggled as she laced Lily's corset. “The young Mister Blackwood do 'ave his, er... charms,” she drawled in a thick Northern accent.
Lily blushed bright red because she thought she knew exactly what Minnie meant. Still, she was curious, so she prodded, “... like what?”
“Oh, mistress,” Minnie cooed, not at all embarrassed by this line of query and merely acting the part of the squeamish lady, “I shouldn't say, but... he do know how to hold a woman, if you get me.”
Lily coughed politely and said nothing because she didn't exactly know. She knew that Minnie meant fornication, but the idea of such being pleasurable was lost on Lily. The only time Lily had ever been with a man was forcibly by one of her suitors in what felt like another lifetime, when Rosie was conceived. It had been a frightening and painful experience, and she could not imagine deriving pleasure from such a thing. But Minnie spoke about it with a delight that Lily found terribly intriguing, especially when she thought of Will Blackwood's broad but slender shoulders and his brooding blue eyes.
Laced into the tightest corset she'd ever donned and nestled in laciest frock she'd ever seen, with a bit of make-up applied artfully to her face by Minnie, Lillian descended the stairs to dinner, thinking that if she kept lacing this tightly she should never be able to eat enough to be healthy again.
The dining room was large and the table long enough to comfortably seat twenty. Lord Blackwood sat at the head, puffing on his pipe, filling the air with a fine, smoky haze. Lily steeled herself against the smoke, thinking that she would just have to get used to it, and she coughed into her hand as she sat down across from Will.
Will was leaning back in his chair, had his feet on the arm of the chair beside him, and was puffing on a cigarette, which he thought much more stylish than his father's stodgy old pipe.
“Good evening, my lords,” Lily greeted them, her voice restricted to a gentle coo by the tightness of her corset. She smiled at Lord Blackwood and fluttered her lashes at him. Blackwood grunted and sipped his sherry.
“As I was saying, about the gold standard,” Blackwood continued, neither man so much as bothering to say a word to Lily, although Lily noticed young Master Blackwood's eyes drifting back to her irresistibly, as her new dress boasted a much lower neckline and bare shoulders. Lily blushed under the young man's gaze, feeling a strange ticklish warmth between her legs at the way his lips curled into a knowing smile behind his whiskey.
“The gold standard is obsolete, the pound has the strength to stand on its own,” young Blackwood said to his father, waving a hand at him dismissively. He dropped his feet to the floor and straightened up in his chair, cocking his head and leaning toward Lily. “Father, are you not going to introduce me to my new mother?” He grinned crookedly at her, and Lily's heart skipped.
“Oh, er, of course,” Lord Blackwood waved at Lily, “Miss Lillian Monroe, this is my son, William. Will, Miss Blackwood.”
“It's a pleasure,” Lily said, and although Will was as much of a boor as his father, she really meant it. It was a pleasure. Will made her feel strange. She didn't like him, personally, but she liked being around him, if that made sense.
“Charmed, I'm sure,” Will drawled, sitting back in his chair, ashing his cigarette on the floor. Another young maid came by to sweep up the ashes and Will thumped her on the bottom with a laugh. She squealed and scurried from the room, glancing back at him with a grin.
“For God's sake,” Lord Blackwood muttered, “contain yourself, child.”
“I'm not a child, I'm twenty-five,” Will scoffed, “and I'll do as I please.”
“Do as you please and run our family's name into the ground!” Lord Blackwood blustered, rising to his feet, his face beet red, and Lily guessed he was probably at least four sherries deep. “What I'd do if your mother was alive--”
“But she's not, is she?” Will sprang to his feet too and drained his whiskey. “Mother's dead, and you've already run our family's name into the ground. You're a laughingstock, old man, it doesn't matter how rich we are if you can't keep le bon ton, for Christ sakes--”
“Watch your tongue!” Lord Blackwood cried incongruously, for he cursed as much as his son, but it was now almost entirely the sherry talking. Will set his glass down loudly.
“I regretfully must inform you that this affair has grown terribly dull,” he said blandly. “I must go amuse myself otherwise or risk dying of boredom before moonrise.” With that, Will stalked out of the room, leaving Lily and Lord Blackwood in uncomfortable silence.
Lord Blackwood sat back down, grumbling, and the servants brought in dinner. Lily ate as much as she could, but the corset was relentlessly tight, and Lord Blackwood's personal odor spoiled what little appetite remained, so she mostly pushed the food about on her plate and tried to talk to Lord Blackwood. But every time she tried to speak, Blackwood snapped at her and stunned her into silence. Once he had finished eating and was lighting up his pipe again, Lily felt nauseated for lack of air.
“I must retire now, Lord Blackwood--”
“Roger, call me Roger, stupid girl.”
“... of course, Roger.” Lily gritted her teeth. “It has been a long day indeed. I bid you good-night.”
“Eh, not so fast, girly,” Blackwood grunted into his sherry, “go upstairs if you want, but don't go to sleep yet. I'll be along when it please me.”
Lily very much did not like the sound of that, but she had to please Blackwood to get Rosie back, so she said, “Of course, m'lord,” then curtsied and went upstairs to change into something less suffocating. Do what she might with her clothes, however, Lily knew that feeling suffocated had little to do with garments.
Chapter Three
Lily had bruises on her arms, shoulders, and stomach by the time Lord Blackwood was finished with her. She was far too small and he was far too rough. He took her selfishly gave not a whit for her pleasure or even for her safety. Of course, that was all Lily knew of the male sex, so she was not surprised, but Lord Blackwood was even worse than the former suitor who had taken her by force. At least he had been quick, Blackwood took his precious time, and the more clothes he took off, the worse his unbathed odor became. He also kept the light on, the better to see Lillian's beautiful face and delicate curves, but that also meant that Lily had to look at him, and see every awful, drunken expression he made.
She lay there for a time, aching and recovering her wits, suppressing the urge to weep hysterically, but, i
n spite of her profound exhaustion, Lily was not sleepy. She got out of bed and put on her dressing gown and padded out to the balcony in bare feet. Her chambers overlooked the Blackwood Hall courtyard. The evening was a bit chill, but pleasant enough, and the fresh air helped chase away the memory of Blackwood and his personal stench, and quelled her tears. Lily played her fingers along some ivy growing on the railing, thinking, Wouldn't Rosie like this? Rosie. Always Rosie. Lily drew upon the memory of her little daughter to give her strength, she could practically hear Rosie giggling already... except... that didn't sound like Rosie's voice, did it? It sounded like a grown woman!
Lily craned her neck and her jaw dropped as she saw the beautiful Will Blackwood saunter out into the courtyard, dragging Minnie with one hand and the scullery maid with the other. He was visibly drunk, red-cheeked and staggering a little, and he led the two giggling girls (who Lily suspected were also at least tipsy) into a secluded corner of the courtyard behind an ivy-covered wall. Lily suspected that hers was the only balcony on the estate, indeed, the only place in London, from which one could observe the goings-on in that particular corner of the courtyard. She watched as Will pulled Minnie in for an embrace and she became confused as Will kissed the girl on her neck, unbuttoning her frock so that he could kiss her decolletage, making Minnie gasp and lean her head back for more. The scullery maid, meanwhile, had one arm around Will's shoulders, while the other hand delved into his trousers.
Lily thought that Minnie must be Will's favorite, as he paid more attention to her, settling her on a low stone bench while he fiddled with her dress and undergarments. It was a strange, giddy sensation Lily felt when Minnie's breasts were finally bared and the young maid leaned against the ivy-covered wall as Will kissed her chest. Curiously, he also suckled Minnie's breasts like an overgrown infant, which made Lily uncomfortable at first, but as Minnie panted and moaned, Lily became excited in a way she'd never felt before. The scullery maid sat beside Minnie and started kissing her and fondling her breasts while Will disappeared beneath Minnie's skirts. Lily wondered what Will was doing down there, because she saw Minnie's legs slide apart and start squirming, and the noises she made intensified in pitch and volume. Lily felt that ticklish warmth between her legs, and it mounted with every passing second that she secretly watched the tryst. She saw Minnie's hand disappear beneath the scullery maid's skirts, and soon both girls were moaning in unison, kissing and squirming and arching their backs. Lily could only imagine what it felt like, but she thought that it must have something to do with this ticklish, tingling feeling between her legs. Curiously, Lily rolled up the hem of her dressing gown, and slowly let her fingers wander along her inner thigh, until they reached the silky warmth of her labia. She was a bit surprised to find that between her labia, she was quite wet and slick. The more of herself she touched, the harder her heart pounded, and she began to think she understood why Minnie was making those noises.