by Stacy Reid
Once again, she tried to calm her racing thoughts and recall everywhere she had been. Suddenly, she stiffened and slowly sat up on the bed as something came to her. Early this morning, she had taken a walk through the secret passages before attending to the marchioness. Sometimes the darkness of those hallways was a haven hidden away, where she could breathe and allow herself to be wicked in her imagination. That was also the place where she had, quite by accident, come upon the open portal that gave her a direct view of Lord Radbourne’s guest chamber.
She pushed from the bed, relief and hope rushing through her veins. Perhaps it had fallen out of her basket there. Though she suspected a secret panel led to her bedchamber, she hadn’t located its entry despite her numerous searches. But there was one she could enter through in the library. She slipped from her room, comfortable with the dark, almost running in her haste, down the long hallway and then the stairs, her voluminous cotton nightgown wrapping around her legs.
A few moments later, she paused at the library door and stood still, allowing her senses to detect if there was another presence within. Confident the house was asleep, she gently opened the door. There was a fire burning low in the grate, but the room was blessedly empty. Lily closed the door behind her and hurried over to the bookcase. Shifting several books on the third shelf in the far-right corner, the bookcase moved and revealed the beginnings of a dark staircase. Lily grabbed a candlestick from the mantel, lit it from the fire, and proceeded into the passageway.
The bookcase closed behind her, the draft of wind almost putting out her lone candle. The flames flickered but then held firm. With a soft sigh, she turned left, moving toward the east wing where most of the guests resided. After several minutes of searching, the hollow feeling of despair surfaced once more. Her diary was not on the floor of these hidden corridors.
A loud moan had her faltering. Lifting the candle high and looking around carefully, she blushed at realizing she was once again standing by the portal in front of Lord Radbourne’s chamber. There was a thump, what sounded like a giggle, then a lusty cry.
She closed her eyes, denying the urge to spy on the earl and his lover. The first time she had heard the sounds, she had opened the small wooden panel, not certain what she would find, for she had never imagined that bed sport elicited such lustful cries. Her shock had been profound when she’d found the earl’s mouth buried against Lady Wimbledon’s snatch. Lily’s sensibilities had been distressed, aroused, and she’d been rooted to the spot, unable to pull away from the intimate display.
A discordant sound rode the air, and she stiffened. She frowned, listening. There it was again. She strained to hear, and Lily almost fainted as footsteps sounded along the passage of the secret corridor where she stood. She inhaled sharply, clutching the candlestick tighter.
Someone was coming.
The awareness settled like heavy stones against her chest, crushing and frightening. How could she explain being in the passage that allowed her a scandalous peek into the earl’s bedchamber? Dear God, why had she given into the wanton urgings and sinful temptations of her heart?
The footsteps grew closer, but she stood frozen in indecision. If she hurried away, whoever it was would hear her scampering and perhaps rush after her. The candlestick slipped from her nerveless fingers with a thunk onto the floor. She held her breath, sure the earl and his lover had heard. Thankfully, the light was out, so she pressed against the wall, hoping she had not been seen and the person in the dark with her would walk by, leaving her unnoticed.
“Ah…we meet at last,” a rough, low voice drawled, distressingly close.
A moan of denial and shock hissed from her.
Dear God, I’ve been discovered.
“I never really thought I would encounter anyone…but here you truly are,” the voice continued, the merest hint of amusement and perhaps intrigue coloring his tone. “Have I shocked you speechless?”
He had poleaxed her senses, for he intimated he had expected to find someone here. In all her months of exploring these dark, secretive corners, she had never encountered another soul. The fact that he had arrived without a candlestick hinted of his familiarity with the winding passages.
“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice husky from apprehension.
“A kindred spirit.”
“I hardly believe that to be possible.” He stood just a few feet away, and she had to look up to where his voice came from. Even in the blackness, she could tell he was tall.
“Permit me to ask your name,” he said smoothly.
“A jester, I see.” As if she would ever be silly enough to reveal her identity. She had pitched her voice low to disguise it. She wondered if he’d done the same.
“I’ve never been accused of being overly humorous before.”
She clenched her hands into a fist. “No, I will not provide my name.”
He chuckled. “Ah, you would prefer anonymity.”
“I would prefer for you to let me pass unmolested.”
There was a pause. “I do not prevent you, my lady,” he said with a heavy tinge of regret. “You are free to leave.”
Yet her feet did not move, and she remained pressed against the walls, ignoring the chill of the stone. Who in God’s name was in the dark with her and why was she lingering in his presence? He could ruin her reputation. Though she hadn’t consented to remarry, she hadn’t fully given up on the notion. She sometimes wished for a companion, a friend, a lover, and a happy home, but she wanted it with a man who would not make her ashamed of her sensuality and wanton cravings, and a man who would not terribly mind that she could not produce issue. If ever there could be such a man.
“Or you could stay…and we could just be,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with something dark and all too enticing.
His emphasis had her mouth drying. That dangerous, forbidden thrill shot through her again. The very one that had caused her late husband to slap her across the cheek and call her a whore on their wedding night.
He’s gone, the temptress lurking inside whispered.
“Who are you? No—” Lily hurriedly amended. “No names, please. Do you know who I am?”
There was a moment of tension. “No.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Truly?”
“Yes.” His voice rang with sincerity.
“Do you wish to know?” Not that she would ever tell him, but she was beyond curious as to his presence.
“Only if you wish to tell me more. I know you’re a widow.”
“I beg your pardon?” How could he know such a thing? Did he suspect her identity and only toy with her? Anger at the notion seared Lily, and anxiety burned inside her.
“There are no young ladies present in the manor who would dare to be so bold to tour these dark hallways. That would be quite extraordinary, wouldn’t you say?” There was an odd vein of amusement in his tone.
“What else do you know?” The question was harsh.
“Relax,” he urged. “I know you’re a lady, without a doubt one of Lady Ambrose’s guests. But which one?”
Some of the tension leaked from her. She wasn’t a lady, and if he thought it so, it would be much harder to decipher her identity.
“I will not insist on more until you are ready to tell me.”
Which she would never be. “You are in no position to insist on anything.” An untrue statement, for he had all the power in this exchange. He could easily overpower her and drag her to the library.
“I will cajole politely, then.”
There was that hint of provoking amusement again.
She thought about that for several seconds. “What do you want?”
There was a low chuckle of anticipation that made her shiver. Good heavens.
What does he want?
Her heart jerked. Could it be that he wanted to spy on the earl as well? Shameful heat scorched her body, and she was absurdly grateful for the cool darkness. “Why are you here?”
“I read your di
ary.”
For precious seconds, she couldn’t breathe. “I beg your pardon?”
The very air around them went remarkably still.
“I found your diary…and read it. That’s how I knew where to find you.” His voice was as dark as she imagined sin would be incarnate.
Her heart was a tattoo against her breastbone, and she could only stare in the direction of his voice at a complete loss. Then fury rushed through her. “Those were private thoughts! You, sir, are no gentleman,” she snapped, being very careful to keep her voice low and disguised.
“Ah.”
There was a wealth of meaning in that single word.
“I regret the discomfort I’ve caused you, but I do not believe I can proffer an apology, for without reading your diary, I would never have found you. I had the thought that perhaps there was a woman with whom I could experience the things I’ve long wanted to do with a lady.”
She bit into the softness of her lips, desperately wanting to ask what things. She should be running from this situation, even if there was a risk of revealing her identity when she spilled from the secret chamber into the lighted library.
“Your restraint is admirable,” he said, his voice roughened with provoking amusement. “I’m fairly hopping on my toes to tell you my desires.”
The dratted man was a still menacing figure of darkness before her.
“Perhaps I do not care.”
“Are you the author of the diary…or an unwitting reader like myself?”
Apprehension skittered across her nerve endings and mashed painfully with the arousal writhing through her body. Lie, a voice inside warned. “Why is that important?”
“That author would desperately want to know all my lewd fantasies—she is fearless with her desires.”
Oh, the way Lily had always wanted to be with her hidden thoughts, fearless and free. Surely this man was not a gentleman of society? Gentlemen expected ladylike demureness from their wives. Who was he to possesses such an unrestrained mind? “You do not think her, the author of the diary you found, a whore?”
“No,” he clipped icily.
“That is unusual,” she said softly. “And what…frightful desires do you possess?”
“Are we to have a frank conversation, then, my lady?”
“I’m—” She caught her slip just in time. It was so instinctive for her to refute that she was a lady whenever someone granted her the honorific in error. The sneaky scoundrel. He did want to know her identity. “We are, my lord.”
A pulse of silence, then he made a low groan of appreciation.
The sound of a consistent slapping and thumping reached them, and Lily flushed in mortification when she realized it was the earl and his lover, and the thumps were of the headboard against the wall.
A guttural moan issued from the earl as his lover begged for more, some shocking demands spilling from her lips. Lily’s breathing roughened. She was afraid and aroused beyond measure.
She sensed when he moved closer.
“Ah, Lady W and Lord R.”
Her knees weakened. How mortifying, he had read that particular entry.
“Do you like watching?”
She blushed, grateful the darkness hid her reaction. What must he truly think of her? “To ask such a private question is not the mark of a gentleman.”
“Why don’t we leave all expectations of gentlemanlike and ladylike conduct…in the library.”
Blast her irrepressible heart for being so captivated by the scandalous notion.
“Do you like watching?” he repeated.
“Sir, I—”
“We are strangers in the darkness,” he murmured. “There are no rules here.”
The breath left her lungs. “I…”
“Don’t speak, just look.”
Her heart jerked, but she stood still, trying to understand the weakness assailing her and the growing persistent throb in her core.
“Allow me,” the stranger murmured, the warm heat of him brushing her body.
He shifted the small portal, and as if the chaotic cravings controlled her, Lily slowly turned toward the opening.
The earl was between his lover’s spread legs, and his mouth was pressed against her feminine channel.
The man behind her stepped closer. “Tell me, why do you like watching?”
Embarrassment assailed her, and Lily clenched her hands into tight fists. “I don’t—”
“Let’s not quibble, my lady. I know you do…I could tell from your journal. You’ve walked these halls, and you have watched Lord R and Lady W. You stumbled upon them once…and you went to your room and pleasured yourself with your fingers…didn’t you?”
Dear God. Her heart stuttered in the most painful rhythm, and Lily drew in a trembling breath. “Yes.”
“Since then, you haven’t watched them…why not?”
“I…” She had felt confused, embarrassed, and too needy. “My mortification overwhelmed me.”
His fingertips danced over the nape of her neck, and a tingling shot straight down below her navel. Her entire being focused on that single sensation.
“There is no need to feel shamed by the need to watch…to see the myriad of expressions on her face as her cunt is ravished. There is a voyeur in all of us, from the maiden who wishes a glimpse of a bare-chested man to the gentleman who desires to see the delicate flash of a lady’s ankle, the shadow between her succulent cleavage, the flash of curls covering her most intimate parts. We all hunger for a taste of something forbidden, only some of us have the audacity or courage to act on those needs.”
Lily couldn’t fight the awakening of the wanton part of her soul. The temptress inside lifted her head and reveled in his sensual assurance. “An inexplicable longing filled me when I saw Lord R and Lady W, one I could not overcome. I lacked the courage to keep watching, certain I would be taken over by a desire that could never be assuaged.”
His fingers skimmed across her hips lightly, and instead of pulling away, she leaned into his bold and improper touch. A rough sigh of appreciation dragged from his throat. Lily understood. Her acceptance of this stranger’s touch meant she was open to scandalous pursuits, which had been his intention to discover.
The touch of his hands on her hips burned through her nightgown. She had never been so conscious of another before.
“The earl and his lover would have reveled in the knowledge that you watch them.”
That notion was positively indecent…and thrilling. “How do you know?”
She felt his smile against her shoulder.
“The earl and I have shared Lady W…and I know their carnal desires.”
Lily gasped.
“Tell me,” her mysterious stranger coaxed. “I want to know your cravings.”
Lily knew without a hint of any doubt that her life would never be the same if she succumbed to the lust in her heart. But she didn’t want to return to that realm of uncertainty, of restraining of one’s passion and true heart.
“I enjoy seeing Lady W’s expressions of pleasure. Sometimes I do not know if she writhes in pain…or delight. I love the nuances I see on her face, I revel in the cries that spill from her throat, and I ache when I see her come undone for the earl. I want to be her. I want to feel such bliss…and I want to be splayed wide and taken while others watch me.” The confession felt as if it was wrenched from the hidden recesses of her soul, where she had interred her most depraved urgings. She closed her eyes tightly, bracing for some manner of repudiation.
Instead…a hum of approval echoed in the dark.
Lily’s entire body weakened, washing with heat at the feel of him against her back.
“Are you watching?”
She snapped her eyes open and wetted her lips. “Yes.” Her voice sounded hoarse and so unlike her, Lily didn’t have to work hard to disguise her tone.
They watched together in silence as the earl adored his lover in the most carnal manner Lily had ever seen. “Do you do that?” She al
most fainted as the words spilled unbidden from her.
“Do what?”
“What the earl is doing.”
“Licking his lover’s quim?”
His wicked words erotically stroked her senses. “Yes,” Lily whispered.
“Most assuredly,” replied the stranger.
His roughened voice made her ache for things that often left her blushing when she thought about them. Her heart picked up its rhythm as temptation and impossible desires beat at her. How many nights had she lain awake dreaming of passion and wicked deeds?
You harlot.
No, the woman inside her roared at the ghost of her husband’s voice. No more.
“Do not try to find out who I am.”
“I swear it on my honor,” came the stranger’s immediate reply.
“And I do not want to know who you are.”
“As you wish.”
A sigh of longing pulsed from her. “I want…I want…” Words failed her.
“Tell me.”
She couldn’t speak through the tight knot in her throat. He waited, and she distantly admired his patience. Lily closed the portal, shutting away the image of the earl twisting his lover to sit atop him. She wanted to ask about every scandalous thing she had wondered but had been told was too shocking for a lady to know…even a wife. “What is the most improper and unladylike word you know for what happens between a man and woman…when they are in bed being intimate?”
“Tupping, swiving, prigging…but my personal favorite is fucking.”
Oh. Thick anticipatory silence blanketed them. She could not bring herself to say her shameful needs.
“There is freedom in the darkness. Say what you want. Take what you want.” His voice was a whisper of velvet across her skin.
Freedom in the darkness. He was the devil. This stranger was the only man to ever ask what she wanted. He was in a position of power, he could simply take her if he wanted, and no one would be the wiser.