by Laura Clarke
“It’s a possibility,” he said.
“Have you met the King?” Her nerves were back, her hands shook as she ran her fingers through her hair.
“Yes, I have,” he said. “This is how it would go. He would be sitting in his chair and you would drop him a curtsey and he would ask how you caught the eye of one of England’s most eligible bachelors. What would you say?”
“Well, I would say I used the words, ‘Can you really do that?’.”
He laughed, and then he immediately schooled his features and said, “And when he asks for further information?”
“I would tell him about Andrew putting his cock in Clara’s bottom, and I wanted to know if it was really possible.”
“I’ll visit you in prison,” he said. “Maybe they’ll give you a private cell so I can put my dick in your bottom so you know it is possible.”
“Can we do it tonight?” The idea excited her. “Does it hurt?”
“No, and yes, the first time,” he said.
“Like when you fucked me?”
“I do like it when you use naughty words.”
Penelope glanced down. His dick, once soft, was hard again. Before he could stop her, she reached down and grasped him. “I love the way it feels. Can I do more than lick it this time?”
“Are you still pretending I’m the King?” he asked. “Because if you are, you’re not doing a very good job at it.”
“Does that mean I’m the King’s mistress?” She put her hands on her hips and in what she thought was her best lower-class accent she said, “Blimey, I never thought I’d suck a royal cock.”
She loved that he was having trouble holding back his laughter.
“Will it taste different?”
“Get on your knees and find out,” he ordered.
Penelope dropped to her knees. She grasped his cock once more as she opened her mouth and prepared to take him inside. He grasped a handful of her hair and held her in place.
“I do believe you should ask for permission.”
“But you said—I’m confused.”
“You should always obey your sovereign.” He wiggled his finger at her. “Now, suck, but be gentle. You don’t want to cause injury.”
She opened her mouth but, as before, she just used her tongue, licking him up and down. He tasted salty, but his skin was satiny smooth.
“Just taste the tip at first,” he said.
She did as he asked, and when he groaned she knew she was doing it right. Under his instructions she next put her hand on the part of the shaft that didn’t fit in her mouth. She squeezed it tightly and moved her hand back and forth as she sucked him.
“You taste good,” she murmured between licks and sucks. But then she suddenly released him. “But what happens when you climax?”
“Not tonight,” he said. He stroked her hair. “Your monarch is a good and generous man. We’ll work up to that.”
She glanced up at him. The look he gave her made her want to repeat the word he’d said to her. Love. But did she love him? She wasn’t sure if she knew what it felt like to love someone, so she couldn’t really say the words.
Instead she said, “Are you going to fuck again?”
“No, you need time to recover,” he said. “I don’t want you so sore that you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
Penelope thought to when he’d tied her to the bed and punished her by stroking himself to completion. “Are you going to do it again, you know, what you did before?”
“You’re going to do it, while I return the favor.” He took her hands and lifted her up from her knees. “Sit on the bed, like before.”
“Are you going to bind me to the posts?” She couldn’t help but be excited at the thought. She would like to do it again, only this time she’d like him to use his fingers on her instead of tormenting her like he had before.
She hurried into position, stretching her arms out between the bedposts.
“You’re going to need those hands,” he said as he sat down next to her. “Scoot over and give me some room.”
When he was seated next to her he put his hand on her thigh. “I want to be inside you, but I don’t want to hurt you. Which means we’ll just play. I want you to spread your legs, putting one over mine.”
Their hips touched as she followed his instructions. Desire surged through her. “Are you sure we shouldn’t—fuck?”
“There are other things to do.” He placed his hand on her mound. “Put your hand on me and tug, stroke and play.”
His hard cock felt perfect in her palm, and then his fingers started to play with her quim. When his fingers found her clit, it was hard to concentrate on what she was doing. She stroked as he did, and the pleasure built and built. She wondered if she were squeezing too hard, but he didn’t seem to mind.
Their movements became almost frantic as they both neared completion. Penelope was the first to climax, and she grasped him tighter than she had as her nerve endings seemed to burst into flames.
She closed her eyes and pumped him harder. When he grunted louder she opened her eyes to see ropes of his semen shooting out of his cock.
When it was all over she leaned into him. “Can we spend the rest of our lives in bed?”
His laugh was almost wicked. “A wonderful idea, but I’m afraid it’s not possible. But we can spend as much time here as possible, I promise you that.”
This time it was she who got up and retrieved a wet cloth to clean up his emissions. When it was over they got back into bed and snuggled together.
Once again, before she fell asleep, she wondered how she’d had such luck in finding a man whom she’d first hated and was now someone for whom she was experiencing feelings of love?
She woke to an empty bed. Sunlight was seeping, in through the curtains, but the house seemed quiet, and almost scarily empty.
“Emmett?” There was no answer to her call. “Where are you?”
She wished she could remember the name of the maid he had selected for her. He had sent the staff away last evening, so they could be alone, but surely, they were here now, waiting to serve their master and future mistress.
Penelope pulled on the bell and waited. She wasn’t used to doing things like this. When Clara had served as her maid, Penelope had always gotten up on her own. But now, she felt something was—off. That was the only word she could use.
She waited for the maid to appear. A glance at the clock showed it was almost eleven in the morning. Her stomach growled, but she wasn’t really interested in food. Tea would be nice, but not food.
When no one appeared after ten minutes, Penelope reached for the rope and pulled it again. Footsteps sounded in the corridor and her unease settled a bit. The door opened and in walked Mary.
“What are you doing here?” Penelope asked.
She knew there were things she and Emmett needed to talk about, like what would happen to Mary, and to Clara and Andrew, but she hadn’t really had the time, or the desire, to bring it up last night.
“Well, I guess you truly are a whore now,” Mary said. “It’s a shame, really, that Andrew didn’t force himself on you when this all started. You would be forced to marry him, and he would get his hands on your money.”
“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?” Penelope clutched the blanket close to her chest.
“Of course,” Mary said. “Do you think I spent all those years married to Chester to end up with only a house and a stipend? I knew he loved you like a daughter and would leave you more than he had his real children. I had no idea it would be so much, though, and when the barrister came to help with his will I sort of lingered near the doorway, so I could hear.”
Mary’s expression turned dark. “Do you know he left you more money than he did me? He said I had plenty, and that I would probably find a new husband to care for me, and he worried that you would be all alone. I guess he didn’t consider that you would trap the future duke by spreading your legs for him.”
Penelope didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to rise to the bait Mary was dangling in front of her.
“Here is what’s going to happen,” Mary said. “You will go to the house in London and take the silver for me. I know that damn representative of the king took the books, but I want the silver, I want the jewelry that is hidden in Chester’s room, and I want the painting, the one done by that Dutch fellow.”
Laughter erupted from Penelope. “What makes you think Emmett will allow any of this?”
“Emmett? Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Now Mary was laughing. “The man who bought the books from me came and accosted me. He accused me of selling him stolen property and demanded his money back. I had to give it to him, of course, or else he would have sent for the constables. Of course, now I hear, from Emmett, that he was paid twice.”
Penelope stared at her, refusing to ask questions or push things any further.
“That means I’m without the money I had depended upon,” Mary said. “I hired three thugs, three of them, to overpower Emmett in the kitchen. They are taking him to London now. You will go to London, and you will bring me what I ask for, or I will kill him, and make it look as if you did it when he refused to marry you.”
Once again, Penelope stayed quiet. Obviously, Mary did not know that Emmett had already posted the banns for their marriage. That gave Penelope an advantage, but she didn’t want to use it right now.
“I’ll give you until tomorrow at midnight,” Mary said. “That way you’ll see it as an adventure, much like those horrid novels you like so much. Good day, Penelope. You’d better get up and going, before you miss your deadline.”
When she was gone, Penelope sprang from the bed. She had her hand on the knob before it occurred to her that she was naked. In her haste, she almost grabbed the quilt from the bed to cover herself while she went in search of Emmett.
But that would never do. She took the time to put on a dress without any of her underclothing. Then she took a deep breath. She didn’t want to alert anyone else that something was wrong. The hallway was empty, as were the stairs. When she got to the kitchen she found the cook and several of the maids working.
“Did you not hear my bell?” she asked.
“The lady said she was going up,” the maid said, her voice low. “I’m sorry, miss.”
“Would you like breakfast?” the cook asked.
“No, I want to clean up and then I’ll be leaving for London,” Penelope said. She had less than a day and a half to find Emmett and make sure Mary did not get her way. But how would she do it? Neither of his brothers were in London, and his parents were in Paris, or so she thought he’d said. There was only one person she thought she could trust, and that was the man, Horace, who had taken possession of the books.
“Find a messenger, one you can trust,” she said. “I want something delivered to London as soon as possible.”
But where would they take it? The only thing she knew about the man was that he worked for the royal family. She would have the missive delivered to the palace, with his name on it. Hopefully someone would find him, and they would come up with a solution to the situation she now faced.
If something happened to Emmett she would never forgive herself.
In was in that moment she realized that she did love him. With all her heart.
“Greedy little thing, isn’t she?” Horace accepted the cup of tea Penelope offered him. It was late, and she was tired from her rapid trip between Bath and London. The staff told her they had not seen Lord Emmett or Lady Mary. She’d been home two hours before Horace knocked on the door and charged past the butler without waiting for any sort of announcement.
“I don’t know where she’s at,” Penelope said.
“Don’t worry, I’ve had scouts out looking for her since I received your message,” he said. “They’ll find her, and we’ll figure out how to take her into custody. She’s kidnapped a member of the realm. That is an offense punishable by imprisonment.”
“If something happens to Emmett…” Penelope’s voice trailed off. It was all she could think about on the trip back—what she would do if he came to harm. “I feel as if I would kill her.”
“Let’s not take things that far,” he said before he drank from his cup. “She’s not going to harm him before she has what she wants.”
“So, you say,” Penelope said. “What if you’re wrong?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he said. “Can you think of anywhere she might be, anywhere besides this Andrew Bixby? Or your maid, Clara?”
Penelope shook her head, but then she frowned.
“You’ve remembered something,” Horace said. “Tell me.”
“The lending library,” she said. “We went there all the time, and I recall Emmett saying that on the first day Mary disappeared with the lending librarian, Clark Weston. But I haven’t seen him since the last time I went there. I didn’t even think about him until now.”
“If she was seen with him, but he hasn’t been a big part of her scheme, it’s possible she’s trying to keep you from focusing on him. I’ll send men over there to make a few discreet enquiries.”
“Bash him over the head if you have to,” she said. “I want Emmett found.”
“Such a head for violence,” Horace said. “Emmett might have a hard time keeping you in hand.”
“I think he’ll do just fine at it,” she said.
“You’re an even match,” Horace said. “I’ve heard about your escapades at places like the Avondale party. Can we expect the same things after you’re wed?”
“Don’t you have better things to do?” she asked. “Like finding Emmett?”
He chuckled and set down his cup and saucer. “You will hear from me tonight. Until then I expect you to stay here. If something happens to you I’m not sure Sway would not kill me for leaving you in danger.”
He strode out of the room and Penelope couldn’t help but think he was an arrogant sod and she would like to smack him upside the head.
When he was gone she stood and started to pace. She hated that she was sitting here waiting, as if things had to be done for her instead of her doing them herself. After she’d felt as if she’d worn out the carpet in the library she moved to the hallway. When dinner was announced she ignored the maid’s pleas that she should eat.
All she could think about was Clark Weston, and how he had been the one who had been with Mary when she disappeared, and how angry he’d been when she’d questioned him.
Horace had been gone for hours, and there hadn’t been a word. For the first time she wondered if he would keep her in the dark until the whole thing was settled. That thought made her angry, much angrier than she’d been when he was here.
“Damn him to the devil,” she said. She stormed toward the front door. After she’d grabbed her cloak from its hook she reached to open the door.
“Miss?” It was Albert the butler. “May I ask where you’re going at this hour, alone?”
“I’m going to look for Emmett,” she said, “I mean, Lord Emmett.”
“Miss, I can’t let you leave,” he said. “I promised his Lordship that I would watch over you if he wasn’t here.”
She looked Albert up and down. He was close to fifty, but he was in good shape, and seemed very able.
“Then come with me, and try to keep up,” she said. “I won’t sit on my hands any longer.” There was a pause before she said, “Are you coming or not?”
His eyes narrowed, and it looked as if he was going to make a grab for her. Penelope jerked open the door and ran down the stairs.
“Miss Penelope!” Albert yelled after her, “Please wait for me!’
Penelope’s cloak flowed around her as she ran toward the lending library. She had no idea if Albert would catch up with her, but she didn’t plan to slow down to give him the chance. Her feet moved as fast as they could. Hansom cabs and private carriages made noise as they clopped down the street. One pulled up next to her and the door opened.
Horace stuck his head out the door. “I knew you were going to be trouble. Get in.” He sounded irritated, and she supposed she couldn’t blame him. After all, she’d gone to him for help and she’d disobeyed his orders.
“Were you watching me?” she asked as she sat down opposite him.
“I was coming to tell you we’ve found Emmett,” he said. “You were right about the librarian. Mary is at his house near Piccadilly. He just left, and my men were going to storm the rooms while he was gone.
“You’re sure Emmett is there?” she asked.
“Yes, a neighbor knew him and saw them take him into the building.” He cleared his throat. “When we get there, you stay in the carriage and let us take care of it.”
His words sounded good, but there was no way she was going to sit back and let someone else rescue her future husband. The carriage slowed in front of a group of row houses and Penelope was out the door before Horace could tell her to stop.
She stood and glanced at the houses and realized she didn’t know which one to go into—until Emmett came out the door of the last one on the right. She felt deflated, and stood there staring at him until he realized she was there.
“What are you doing here?” He hurried down the stairs and grabbed her in his arms.
“I was worried,” she said. “And I wanted to be the one to rescue you. I should never have contacted Horace.”
“You did the right thing,” he said. “They are used to dealing with things like this, but with real criminals, not with idiots like Mary and her friends.”
“Where is she?”
“Inside,” he said. “She’s being taken into custody and will face the magistrate for kidnapping me.”
She hugged him close, and when he groaned she gasped. “What’s wrong?”
“They hit me rather hard,” he said. “I think we need to go to the house, so I can take a rest.”
Horace came up behind her. Before she could say anything, Emmett held out his hand. “Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate you taking this seriously.”
“I knew she’d stolen the books, which made her desperate,” Horace said. “If I had ignored it and something had happened I would have lost my position.”