by Lena West
12
Today they triggered one of the little traps I set. Now I am sure of my facts. Beyond doubt.
She has betrayed me.
With whom? That I have yet to ascertain. Like a bitch on heat she eyes every man as intimately as if he is her lover; and one and all, they slaver over her like rabid dogs.
As I once did.
“Stephen darling, can you help me with these tedious buttons, please?”
She'd had Deirdre's assistance donning the gown before the Cummings's party, but the maids had been told not to wait up. Obligingly, Stephen wrestled with the tiny pearl buttons fastening Lucy's best evening gown.
“Someday, someone will invent a more convenient way to fasten gowns,” he grumbled. “You do look lovely in this gown, though, Lucy. You were belle of the ball tonight.”
He'd felt so proud, standing at Lucy's side, basking in the universal approval his marriage had earned him.
The gown slipping freely down her arms, Lucy turned to reward him with a warm, lingering kiss. She carefully removed the gown and hung it up. Seeing Stephen busy divesting himself of his own festive raiment, she impulsively decided to bring the night to a daring end in a way her husband wouldn't forget in a hurry. One that would cement tonight's victory.
She would prove to her husband she could be the most creative and satisfying of lovers. Satisfying enough to keep him at home beside me? Lucy could only hope. Excitement rippled through her. This certainly counted as using those female weapons Grandmama had told her of. She hoped she could bring it off and not end up looking ridiculous.
She sat at her dressing table and removed the pins from her hair. Brushing her curls into a smooth cascade reaching almost to her waist, Lucy watched in the mirror, tracking Stephen's movements. Waiting till he was lying in the bed, the sheet draped over his waist, exposing his deliciously bare chest. Judging her moment, she rose to her feet, brush discarded.
“I'll be with you in just a moment Darling,” she purred, noting with satisfaction that already he was more aware of her. Normally she was first into bed, and Stephen was always the one who initiated their lovemaking.
Tonight, was all about doing something new, something he would remember, and want more of.
Lucy stepped out of her shoes, giving them playful little kicks to send them sailing across the room. Then, standing side-on to the bed, she lifted one dainty foot to the stool, pushed her petticoats out of the way, and slipped off the garter; pretending not to notice when Stephen raised himself up on one elbow, attention entirely concentrated on her performance, anticipation in the smile lifting his lips. Thus encouraged, she gave him the tiniest of pouting smiles and slowly rolled her stocking all the way to her toes, finally tossing it in the direction of her shoes.
Holding her skirts clear of her legs, she straightened and removed her foot from the stool. Gave him another of those secret smiles she had never lavished on any other man. Stephen was sitting up straight now, riveted, eager to see what came next. A tent in the sheet indicated his torso wasn't the only erect part of his anatomy. Lucy exulted.
It really is working! It is!
Confidence growing, she oh so slowly repeated her performance with the second stocking.
Turning to face him full-on she loosened her petticoats. Letting them fall around her feet, she stepped neatly out of the tangle of fabric, turned her back, and bent from the waist to pick up the clothes and toss them onto the chair. Corsets next. Pretending she needed help to undo the laces, she sashayed over to the bed.
“I could do with a little help here, Darling.”
Only too eager to make himself useful, Stephen released her from the confining garment. When he tried to pull her onto the bed, she resisted.
“Not so fast, Darling. I've not finished undressing.”
With a breathless laugh, he let her go and sat back against the headboard.
“Then you'd better be quick, Lucy dear. I can't wait much longer, you know.”
She gave him another of those sultry smiles. If she'd realised how effective they were, she thought, her heart beating like a bass drum, she'd have employed them ever so much sooner. What a pity she'd been too shy to take the initiative until driven by urgent need.
“I'll take just as much time as I need.”
There wasn't much more to take off, though, so in a very few moments she stood as naked as he was. Recalling the extra fillip added by light, she elected to leave the lamp burning. Limned by its golden glow, she allowed Stephen one long moment to admire the view, then Lucy climbed onto the bed, stripping back the sheet to straddle his legs, holding his hands away when they sought to capture her.
“No, you don't Darling. If I let you have your way, it will all be over much too soon. Tonight, I'm in the mood to take my time. You just lie back like a good boy and let me have my wicked way with you.”
Bold as her words were, she couldn't help the fiery blush that heated her cheeks.
The tensing of Stephen's muscles and his wolfish grin assured her she was having the desired effect on her husband. Lucy directed his hands to the carved wooden bars on the headboard.
“Hold on there, so your hands don't distract me, and don't let go till I give you leave,” she murmured, kissing him on the brow, peaked breasts brushing the hair on his chest.
A heavy ache was throbbing deep in her abdomen, the familiar tension building. She hadn't realised how arousing being in control would be. She liked it. A lot. How long, she wondered, could she prolong the delicious torment before her own body demanded an end to it?
Using all of her recently acquired skills, Lucy scattered random biting kisses and soothing licks over Stephen's face and neck, returning to spend a long time ravishing his mouth, ending by sucking gently on his lower lip until he moaned and writhed beneath her. Releasing his lip, she stroked her tongue over the shallow dimple in his chin.
Stephen, knuckles white, clung grimly to the bars. He couldn't take much more of this sweet torture, but he didn't want to bring it to a premature close.
This was an aspect of his Lucy he'd not encountered previously, and he liked it. A lot. She wrung a gasp from him when those provocative lips latched onto his nipple, drawing it into the hot, moist cavern of her mouth. Then she moved to the other one and he gasped again, bucking under her sweet weight.
Lucy revelled in exercising her feminine power. She'd experimented a little before, but never on this scale. She had always yielded to Stephen when impatience overcame him. This was so exciting.
Her body burned, quivering and ultra-sensitive as the urge to seek fulfilment built and built inside her.
She longed for Stephen's touch, but was determined to keep the reins in her own hands. She compromised by rubbing her breasts over his chest. The coarse hairs aroused every nerve end in her tender flesh. It felt so good she did it again.
Stephen groaned. She was driving him insane.
“Lu…”
She shushed him with a deep moist kiss that left his whole body on the edge of an eruption. His hands fell from the bars. About to take control back into his own hands, he held himself in check when Lucy moved on, kissing her way from neck to navel with a few interesting detours. This wasn't quite so intense, and he relaxed. Momentarily.
Lucy looked up from exploring the depths of Stephen's navel to find her lips on a level with the glistening head of his erection. She swiped her tongue experimentally down its full length, then, opening her mouth, took him inside.
“Lucy!” he shouted, voice hoarse with suppressed need.
She spent another few moments pleasuring herself as well as him, then set him free for as long as it took to move higher up his body. High enough to impale herself on his shaft, sliding down upon him till he was fully sheathed within her slick passage.
This time it was Lucy who cried out.
“Darling! Now! Take me now.”
Stephen required no further urging. Their mating was hard and fast, with no time for tenderness. It was all a
bout speed, and need; ending in a cataclysm that left them both panting, skin dewed with perspiration.
“God, Lucy,” Stephen gasped when he caught his breath. “That was astounding. You were astounding. I've never experienced anything like that before.”
“Never? But surely…”
Lucy caught herself in time, rousing herself to take notice. This admission was more than gratifying. It was profoundly interesting.
“I'll not deny that in the past, there have been other women. Not many, but I was as curious as any boy entering a man's world, and I can assure you, I've never known the like. If I had the tiniest skerrick of strength left, I'd be begging you to do it again.”
“Not tonight, darling, but sometime…”
The late night and their exertions caught up with Lucy. Yawning, she snuggled up to lie with her hand over Stephen's heart and her head on his shoulder.
They fell asleep in a tangle of limbs, Lucy sprawled over Stephen's chest. In the very early morning Lucy was woken by a gentle stroking that soon had her fully aroused and hungry for more loving. Slower and steadier this time, but no less fulfilling for all that. Sated as never before, they slept again till the sound of clattering dishes from the kitchen woke them in time for a late breakfast.
*****
Standing, Lucy stretched, closing Archibald's book of bird paintings which she had been perusing, feeling as contented as Bridget Murphy's fat, lazy cat sleeping on the sunny windowsill beside her.
Idly, she trailed her fingers through Tabby's striped black and gray fur, reliving in memory the joy of making love with Stephen the night before. It had been the best ever, and if Stephen spoke the truth, not even the loathsome Isabella had pleased him more. A minor victory had been converted into a major one.
Even if he never grew to love her as she loved him ... Her heart missed a beat, dread filling her at the very thought, for she knew now, beyond doubt, that she loved him; truly and forever. Even though the thought of him with his mistress made her savagely long to cut his heart out and feed it to the dogs.
If lust and liking were the most Stephen ever feels for me, we still have more than many other couples who go on to live happy, successful married lives. Don't we? Sooner or later she might be reduced to finding out for herself, she thought. Contentment fled, banished by her darkening mood.
First though, before she could explore the extent of Stephen's feelings for her, it was essential Isabella Cummings be removed from their lives. Lucy's victories from the night before buoying the ever-present hope filling her heart; gave additional incentive to her zeal to win.
Her enemy wasn't invincible. Idly, she trailed her fingers over the rifle Stephen had neglected to put away, imagining terrible possibilities. Snatching her hand back as if from one of Australia's deadly poisonous snakes, she hurried from the library.
*****
Seeing his son humming as he went about his work, Thomas lost the last vestiges of guilt over pushing the boy into marrying Lucy.
It had seemed such a good idea at the time; but since their return from their honeymoon, he'd caught a hint of deep unhappiness about the boy in unguarded moments. The thought had crossed his mind more than once that Stephen was pretending a happiness he didn't truly feel.
No pretence today though, he chuckled. No man, least of all his open, honest son, was capable putting on such a good show.
*****
Stephen's mood remained cheerful, till just before luncheon when an invitation to join the station hands in a game of poker after dinner sent it crashing to earth.
While Lucy and Archibald had been occupied with his gift to her, and Thomas had been waiting patiently by the carriage for them, Isabella had whispered in his ear.
“Tomorrow night. Ten o'clock. Usual place.”
His smug self-satisfaction with Lucy's ardent ministrations had driven all thought of Isabella from his mind. Once again, he was assailed by guilt at his betrayal of her love.
It was one thing to make love to his wife since it served a useful purpose in his deception. It was even acceptable to take a modicum of pleasure in doing so. It was another thing entirely to let it drive his true love from his consciousness, as he'd been allowing it to far too often lately.
“Can't do it mate,” he answered when the poker invitation was repeated. “Not tonight. I'm knackered after last night's shindig.”
He didn't have to try too hard to manufacture a convincing yawn. He was tired, no lie about it.
Now he had to find some way to sneak out tonight, with neither Thomas nor Lucy knowing. At first, he thought of using the poker game as an excuse, but he'd be sure to get found out if one of the chaps mentioned his absence in the wrong person's hearing.
In the end, it proved easier than he'd anticipated, without any planning at all. They'd all yawned their way through dinner, and as soon as the tea tray was removed, Lucy stood and reached for his hand.
“Come along, Darling. I think we can all do with an early night, don't you?”
Compelled to agree, he'd gone along with her, thinking himself trapped. His mind had come up a complete blank when he tried to produce a believable excuse to go out, leaving him in a panic.
What would Isabella do if he failed her?
He'd still been thinking furiously when Lucy had wrapped him in her arms and kissed him. His traitorous body soon had him responding to his wife, when what he really wanted was to be making love to his mistress. What a damnable situation, he thought.
The image of Isabella waiting alone in the dark kept him wide awake, after Lucy, easily satisfied tonight, fell into a deep sleep soon after they'd finished.
This was his chance, he realised, easing himself from under the covers. He scooped up the clothes he'd thrown down on the chair, picked up his boots, and slipped outside, dressing on the back veranda before rushing to fetch Sultan from the stables.
The horse had protested at being dragged from his stall after being bedded down for the night, but soon settled into a steady canter over the familiar path. If he was lucky, Stephen thought, he might still be on time.
*****
“I thought you were never coming.”
Isabella pouted her displeasure.
“It's not nice, keeping me waiting here on my own in the dark.”
She conveniently forgot she had a lantern, and the secluded bower had been rendered quite comfortable since their first tryst there. Using the excuse that she wanted a shady bush retreat to sit and read on hot days, Isabella had ordered an attractive summer-house to be built, furnishing it with a comfortable daybed.
“I'm not so very late, my love.”
Stephen took her in his arms. “And I'm here now,” he added with a placating kiss.
“You know, my dearest darling, it wasn't easy to get away tonight. I don't think I'll be able to manage it very often. Can we meet at a more convenient time in future?”
Isabella huffed.
“But this time is very convenient for me. Archibald is so old, he goes to sleep early.”
She'd never told Stephen how she made sure of that with the addition of a sleeping draught to her husband's after dinner cup of coffee whenever she planned a clandestine tryst.
“But Lucy isn't old; and she expects me to be at her side. I dread to think of the consequences if she should wake tonight and set the household on its ears if she can't find me. There'll be trouble if I keep making excuses to leave the house at night. You know there will be, Darling. As inconvenient as it is, my marriage was expressly meant to prevent trouble.”
“Oh, alright then. No-one ever comes here except me, so I suppose we can meet here in the afternoons. Now, why don't you show me how much you've missed me, hmmm? It must be so dreary and boring, having to bed a naive little girl, when you know how much more exciting it is to make love to me.”
Stephen bit his tongue. His darling Isabella would not be pleased if he told her bedding Lucy was anything but dreary and boring.
He caught himself
up right there. This was Isabella's time, and the rules of his double life precluded thoughts of one woman when he was with the other. No comparisons were permitted, although if they were ... Stifling a yawn he set himself out to please his love. When they parted, Isabella professed satisfaction, but although Stephen performed as was expected of him, truly, he hadn't plumbed the depths of passion with the fire and energy he usually experienced. As he had last night with Lucy. And more.
He put his lack of enthusiasm down to tiredness and anxiety over being caught out.
*****
Feeling a chill around her shoulders from the breeze wafting through the open French windows, Lucy roused enough to pull up a blanket, drifting straight back to sleep.
She did note Stephen's absence, however. Putting it down to a call of nature, she drowsed off again, thinking nothing of it. She woke a second time, some unidentified noise outside rousing her from her dreams. Through drowsy, half open eyes, she saw her husband slipping into the room. He undressed and slid under the covers, being careful not to disturb her. Why had he dressed to step outside to the convenience? Usually, if he needed to go out he simply threw on a robe to cover his nakedness.
Lucy rolled towards him, opening her mouth to ask where he'd been, when the stench of heavy musk perfume assaulted her nostrils.
She shut her mouth and lay still, listening to his breathing slow into a deep sleep. The clock in the drawing room chimed four o'clock. She knew it had been hours earlier when she first noticed his absence. Tears seeped from beneath her tightly closed lids, threatening to become a flood.
She scrambled out of bed, uncaring of disturbing the deceitful creature who'd invaded it. Dragging on her robe, she stuffed her fist against her mouth to hold back her sobs. Fleeing blindly, she found herself in the kitchen. Sitting at the kitchen table, she lay her head on her arms and gave way to her tears.