Manor of Pleasure: An Erotic Historical Romance

by Debra Sheridan

  He closed the door softly behind him. He could feel his heart beating against his chest as he examined the room.

  Desmond felt oddly sinister. Of all of the places on earth, this was the one place where he should not be found out.

  He walked up to her vanity and surveyed the colorful array of jars, hair combs and other trinkets. He selected a perfume bottle and examined it. He lifted the crystal stopper and placed his nose over the bottle, inhaling lightly. This was the one. He replaced the stopper and put the bottle down.

  He reached into his dinner jacket for his handkerchief. Very quickly, he placed a drop of the perfume on the thin cloth. The liquid spread quickly through the light cotton square. He replaced the bottle and returned the handkerchief to his pocket. Now he should have her scent wherever he goes, he thought and smiled.

  Desmond pulled out Rebecca's lucky charm from beneath his coat; a silver horseshoe she had given him during his convalescence as a boy. He knew it was foolish to credit the trinket with his recuperation and now his return all these years later as a man. All the same, he had guarded it zealously as if it held ancient powers.

  He placed it on her vanity next to her hairbrush. Desmond was very pleased with his machinations. He looked about the room for concealment. He found it among the drapes and adjusted himself perfectly beneath the heavy fabric. His vantage point was marvelous. He would have to remain as silent and as still as the dead.

  Desmond's timing could not have been more precise. Within seconds, Rebecca entered her room. She closed the door and walked to the fireplace, unsheathing her arms from her gloves.

  Desmond's eyes scanned her slender figure; she was exquisite.

  Rebecca moved to her vanity and sat down. Reaching back, she lifted the ebony comb from her hair, placed it on the table. As she picked and lifted other hairpins, her dark hair fell in stages until it draped down her back and shoulders.

  She looked for her hairbrush. She paused, staring at the table. She raised her hand to her lips and looked about her. She picked up the silver charm and turned it around in her fingers.

  "Desmond?" she whispered.

  Silence.

  There was a rap at the door. "Yes, Nora?"

  Nora entered. "Please forgive me, ma'am. I was caught up in my letter-writing."

  "It's quite all right." Rebecca stood up and left her vanity. She stood in front of Nora and gathered her brown tresses, bringing them forward. Nora began undoing the buttons down the back of Rebecca's gown.

  "So you can keep a secret as well as I, Lady Rebecca." Nora smiled as she slipped the sleeves of the gown past Rebecca's shoulders and guided the gown to the floor. "I hear you're to be married," Nora continued.

  Rebecca stepped out from the trappings of her gown. Desmond beheld the commencement of the bedtime ritual with high anticipation. This was delicious. He bit on his bottom lip.

  "Yes, Nora. It's true." Rebecca smiled uneasily. "I accepted his proposal last night. I wanted to tell you this morning. But I couldn't…not in the face of your misfortune."

  "I understand, ma'am, I do. But we must keep moving forward. I'm so happy for you. You lost your heart to him long ago. It's only right that you should marry."

  "It's true, isn't it? I've loved Desmond Baines for longer than I can remember." She stepped out of her petticoat as Nora pulled it down from her small waist. "I suppose I won't believe we're to be married until it actually happens."

  She bent her head and lifted her thigh slightly to undo her slippers.

  Desmond swallowed. He was reminded of a statue of Aphrodite he had seen once as a boy. The naked figure had embarrassed him then. This was much different. This was very much real.

  Her arms, like her legs, were long and lithe with shy curves. The muscles in her arms and shoulders worked as she fiddled with the fastenings.

  Her skin was perfection in this light, the color of pale ivory with the luster of a pearl. His eyes followed her arms down to her thighs, so taut and smooth. He imagined running his hands on the outside of them, feeling their hardness while she straddled him. The blood rushed through the pit of his stomach and down to his hard-on.

  Nora stood behind Rebecca and loosened the back laces of her bodice. Rebecca began to untie the front. The two women continued their banter but Desmond could no longer hear them. He could not think, could barely breathe. His craving for her was building fast. Nora removed Rebecca's bodice and set it on the dresser.

  Her breasts were sublime. He savored the opportunity to study them at his leisure. They were perfectly rounded, like globes of alabaster floating in a pool of milk. Her nipples were pink temptations. He remembered the taste of her breasts from the afternoon and how velvety the sensation.

  Nora arrived with Rebecca's nightdress and his private show ended as quickly as it began.

  "Nora, would you lock the door when you leave? I'm spent. I really don't want to be disturbed."

  "Very good, ma'am. Sleep well." She was gone.

  The key scraped and clicked as Nora locked the door. Rebecca picked up her lucky charm and sat on the edge of her bed. She stared at it in wonder.

  The rustle of the drapes drew Rebecca's attention. Desmond stepped from the shadows. He walked quickly to her, shedding his coat and dropping his hat to the floor.

  She stood up, her face the very essence of surprise. "Desmond, what…"

  He grabbed her around the waist with his left arm and drew her to him savagely. With his other hand, he grasped her neck and brought her lips to his. She yielded to him at once. Her mouth was open, docile. She pressed her soft curves against him, raised her thigh against his leg. As his lips journeyed down her throat, she sighed, "You win then."

  He raised his head and looked at her. He was ravenous but he wanted to hold it in check, to revel in his lust for her.

  "Can I claim my prize now?" Desmond asked her softly. He brushed his lips against her cheek.

  She ran her fingers through his disheveled hair. He grabbed her hand and led her to the full-length mirror. They stared at each other's reflections. Desmond positioned himself behind her.

  She started to turn her body to face him but he stopped her, bracing her softly by her shoulders.

  Desmond did not need to speak. He placed his hands on her waist. Rebecca began to unbutton her nightdress. His eyes were fixed upon her fingers until she completed her undertaking. She put her arms to her side.

  Gently, Desmond spread the yoke of her garment down around her shoulders.

  He pulled on her nightdress until it fell in a heap around her feet. Desmond's breathing was heavier now, as he took in the sight of her.

  With his arms about her waist, he undid the drawstring of her undergarments and pulled on them until they fell off as well.

  She was fully naked. He stared at her wantonly, his mouth slightly open.

  She closed her eyes and leaned against him. She brought her arms up behind her and around his neck.

  Desmond ran his hands over the silky contours of her thighs, over her hips and across her belly. He cupped the firm white globes of her breasts in each of his hands. He bent his head to her neck and grazed his lips down her throat and over her shoulder.

  Rebecca moaned softly as he gently squeezed and fondled her nipples. She reached behind her and felt for his swollen shaft.

  "No," Desmond whispered into her ear, grabbing her wrist. "You'll finish me off."

  "You're not being fair, Desmond," she pleaded in a whisper.

  "I'm still collecting my prize. I assure you, I am well within my rights." His gaze returned to the mirror, to her polished pale curves and lines.

  He relished the view of her writhing naked body in front of his formal dinner attire. He was her dinner guest after all and she had yet several courses to serve him. He watched his hands as they trailed a path over her breasts.

  He grabbed onto one and held firm while his right hand slid slowly down to the valley between her porcelain thighs.

  He slipped his hand into the
heat of her crevice. He drew his breath in sharply when he came upon her creamy wetness.

  "God, you're lovely," Desmond whispered fiercely, his voice low in his throat. "You're driving me mad."

  His fingers gently probed the wet and silky lips of her pussy. Rebecca gasped and pushed her buttocks against his hips. His stiff hard erection pressed against her lower back.

  Desmond's breath was hot and heavy in her ear. He found her swollen clit; it was inflamed and wet, the size of a berry. He let it slide very softly, gently, back and forth between his fingers. Rebecca's breathing quickened.

  He watched her hips rock, her buttocks grinding against his shaft. "Let me taste you, my darling," Desmond begged, his lips in her hair.

  Rebecca turned around quickly and grabbing his hand led him to her bed. She threw back the covers and sat on the edge. He removed his tailcoat and sat beside her and they kissed feverishly, their tongues thrusting and licking. They fell against the bed linens. Desmond stopped to look at her. He touched her scarlet lips.

  "May I, Rebecca? I'll understand if you don't…"

  "I want you to," she whispered, breathless.

  Desmond lowered his head to her chest. His lips lightly brushed her nipples and the supple valley between her breasts. Rebecca curved her back.

  Desmond ran the tip of his tongue down the soft planes of her belly, his hands on her hips. He slid off the bed and placed himself between her legs. He felt he was in a dream.

  He skimmed the inside of her thighs with his lips, planting random heated kisses. He looked before him and drew in his breath. Her pussy was gleaming with the dews of her lust.

  Very tenderly, he kissed her hot silken folds. He licked his lips for his first taste. He was enraptured.

  Carefully, he spread her folds with his fingers until he found the nub that was her clitoris. He licked it lightly, teasing it out. Then he kissed it, licked it and kissed it again until finally he brought the succulent bud gently into his mouth.

  Rebecca was in the throes of a peaking ecstasy. She wished he would consume her. She looked down and took in the marvel of his blond and tousled head between her thighs. He was positively rapacious.

  She pressed her mound into his mouth. Another suck and she would explode. Her body was tight, her thighs contracted. She felt herself cresting a rising wave.

  "Oh…oh…oh…" Rebecca gasped. Her hands grasped her bed sheets in tight fists. She was panting rapidly. Desmond felt the gush of her orgasm against his lips. Her thighs were trembling.

  Desmond thought that he had never been as hard as he was now. He stood up and worked at the buttons on his pants.

  Rebecca's eyes widened as she watched him.

  She loved this part; it was as if he would die if he could not penetrate her in that instant. He was immense.

  He slipped his swollen cock into her wet and quivering recess. They both gasped as he entered her and he whispered her name.

  He thrilled at the hot rush in his belly and his loins as he slid his shaft back and forth. It was so tight, hot and wet inside her. He closed his eyes and rode the crescendo of his bliss. He thrust deeply and pulled back slowly, trying to sustain it.

  "Desmond, oh…Desmond," Rebecca was gasping.

  The sound of her voice saying his name set him off. He climaxed, and she felt his shaft shudder and pitch inside of her.

  He bore down on her twice more, and then collapsed. She turned herself sideways and looked at him.

  He was sweating and his eyes were closed. She brushed back his hair from his face. He grabbed her hand, kissed her palm and placed her arm about his neck. She was more vibrant, more beautiful now than ever before.

  They stared into each other's eyes, both of them still basking in the headiness of their intercourse.

  "So have I persuaded you, Rebecca? Will you come with me to London?"

  "Yes, I'm persuaded," she replied softly, smiling. Rebecca brought her hand to his face and stroked his cheek.

  Desmond perched himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. "How am I to leave you?"

  He kissed her, letting his tongue play along her top and bottom lips. He pulled away from her.

  "With enormous difficulty and a rash exercise of discipline," he answered himself.

  He sat up and pulled up his pants. He brought her the nightgown and instantly regretted it as she pulled it close.

  "Must you leave?" Rebecca asked him. "Won't you stay…until I fall asleep?"

  "That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Desmond replied, adjusting his pants. "Alas, we need to combine forces if I'm to get out of here undetected."

  Rebecca pouted. "I shan't help you." She fell back on the bed. "Stay," she commanded.

  Desmond pulled her up and gathered her to him. "After we are married, you will never be rid of me." He kissed her forehead. "Now off you go."

  Rebecca slid off the bed and padded softly to her bedroom door. She twisted the lock on the door and opened it soundlessly, slipping out of the room to inspect the corridor.

  Within a minute, she returned and whispered, "Quickly Desmond."

  He kissed her hastily on the lips and made his escape.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  At Clayton House the next morning, Desmond rose early despite his amorous pursuits with Rebecca during the prior evening. He believed that he had never slept so well since before he had met Rebecca so long ago.

  When he crossed the threshold of the dining room, his mother was there to greet him.

  "Desmond, good morning, my dear! How are you feeling this morning?" she inquired with the appropriate dose of maternal concern.

  "I'm fine, Mother," he answered, settling in. "Never better."

  "Why, when you left early last evening, Lord Garway said you had a headache."

  "Quite right. I drank more wine than was good for me, I'm afraid." Desmond shot her a quick smile. Jackson poured his tea. "Thank you, Jackson." He picked up the newspaper.

  "I'm glad it was nothing more than that. You must be pleased with yourself, having pulled the wool over my eyes so thoroughly yesterday. You gave me not the tiniest inkling of your engagement with Rebecca." Mrs. Baines smiled brightly.

  "I rather think I surprised myself," Desmond replied. "You can give yourself some credit, Mother. You reminded me daily of my prospects with her."

  "Yes, and you see, I was right all along," she replied smartly. Desmond grinned at her. His mother continued, "I'll be going up to town shortly. Will I see you for lunch?"

  "Unfortunately, no. I have meetings at the firm and then I'm going to try and see Rebecca early before dinner."

  Mrs. Baines sighed. "Somehow I cannot imagine Lady Rebecca Garway installed in this house. It doesn't seem grand enough for her."

  "Mother…" Desmond started in a warning tone.

  "Desmond, you know I'm very fond of Rebecca. I have no doubt of her genuine feelings for you. But think of it. She is used to a bevy of servants catering to her every whim day and night."

  Desmond was matter-of-fact when he answered her. "We will, all of us, have adjustments to make. And we are all considerate, rational thinking beings. I'm sure we will manage."

  "I'm sure you're right," Mrs. Baines gave her son a perfunctory smile. "I'm off then. We'll see you at dinner." She kissed him on the cheek and left the room.

  Desmond put down his newspaper and stared out of the window. Adjustments. He had never thought of the more practical aspects of his union with Rebecca. Things would fall into place, he assured himself. Everything else had up until now.

  He knew it was early still. But their relationship was so much more than tender sentiments or carnal appetites. It had proven itself, to him at least, to be a love so deeply entrenched in their natures that it would not be denied by any circumstance, no matter how great.

  They had both traveled a long, meandering and arduous path to get to this point. He felt enormously lucky yet he questioned that it was luck at all. It was simply meant to be and it would be, despite everything or anyo
ne.

  He reached into the pocket of his tweed jacket, pulled out the scented handkerchief and held it to his nose. Enough, he thought to himself. He would see her later this afternoon. It was time to focus on other things. He folded his newspaper and set off for work.

  Lord and Lady Garway sat in quiet contentment over their brunch and tea, each preoccupied by their respective itineraries. They both looked up when Rebecca entered.

  "Good morning, Rebecca," her mother greeted her.

  "Yes, good morning," Lord Garway rejoined. "Did you sleep well?"

  "Very well, thank you, Father," Rebecca replied. She graced them both with a broad smile.

  "You look lovely this morning, Rebecca. Do you have plans?" Lady Garway's eyes were bright as she addressed her daughter.

  "Not really, Mother. I had hoped that we could turn our minds to the wedding. There is so much to be decided," Rebecca replied. "I'm quite overwhelmed."

  "First and foremost, there is the guest list. We can go over that later this morning, if you like," Lady Garway suggested.

  "Perfect," Rebecca answered. "Desmond and I are planning a day trip to London tomorrow. I will have time then to browse the shops."

  Lord Garway looked up from his newspaper. "You're going to London tomorrow with Desmond? Have you told him this?"

  "Told him? He invited me," Rebecca replied in surprise. "Father, we're no longer children. Besides, I will probably spend more time with Cousin Suzy than Desmond. He has business there."

  "Not very pleasant business. I should think that you would not hazard revisiting Sir Isaac so soon," her father replied with caution in his phrasing.

  "Whatever do you mean, Father? I can assure you we have no business with him." Rebecca sipped her tea. "And London is far too big to pose even the slightest concern over a chance meeting."

  Lord Garway said nothing further. He returned to his paper.

  Rebecca paused. "You can't mean that Desmond's business is with Sir Isaac?" She asked her father pointedly.

  "It is not for me to say, Rebecca," her father answered. "You best discuss it with Desmond."