Wild Irish Girl

by C. B. Halverson

  “Audrey mentioned how you requested an audience with her.”

  Lady Aberthorne’s eyes glittered and her mouth spread in a devious grin. “She is quite irresistible.”

  I nodded. No truer words had the woman ever spoken. “I wondered, given our circumstances, if you would understand why she might hesitate to assent.”

  The woman laughed, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “Oh, Audrey has nothing to fear from me! I will take great care of her for you, Dr. Moorland.”

  Blast it.

  I had hoped to give Lady Aberthorne a delicate way to drop the matter, but she seemed intent to use Audrey as her plaything. I took a deep breath, and looked down, realizing my fists were clenched. I flexed my fingers and raised my gaze to meet hers. I thought of what Audrey wanted, of the erotic desire she felt for Lady Aberthorne. My mind drifted to The Chieftain’s Daughter and one particular scene of ritualistic import, and all the pieces snapped into place.

  I moved toward the lady, taking her hand in mine and rubbing my thumb along the inside of her palm. “Have you read The Chieftain’s Daughter?”

  She nodded.

  “Then you will recall the scene where Roisin attempts to sacrifice herself for the sake of her English lover.”

  Lady Aberthorne’s eyes glittered. “Oh, Dr. Moorland. I like the way you think.”

  “Then might I attend Miss Byrnes? We are both happy to serve you, mistress.”

  She grinned as wide as a crocodile. “Oh, I believe you will both serve me very well.”

  Chapter 13

  Audrey

  The footman guided me down a long set of stairs leading deep into the foundations of the mansion. Ancient stones rubbed bright and shiny—the original fortifications, no doubt— lined the narrow corridors. I shivered beneath the thin, gauzy gown Lady Aberthorne had provided me, and I pulled the silk mantle tighter around my shoulders. She had sent along a note in her elegant hand, providing strict instructions about what to wear. Nestled in the box with the gown and mantle lay a real gold tiara and matching brooch, both sparkling with tiny diamonds and emeralds. The mantle was much thinner than my old one and provided little warmth, and my teeth chattered in the drafty passageway. She had forbidden me to wear shoes, and my feet felt like blocks of ice as I padded in the wake of the taciturn footman. Goodness, the tales this man could tell.

  We came to a door, and my stomach twisted into knots. Joseph had assured me he would remain by my side, but for a panicked moment I wondered if something might have happened, if maybe Lady Aberthorne had changed her mind. The door opened with a loud creak, revealing a room illuminated by candlelight. Cloaked and masked figures sat in the shadowy corners, and I let out a gasp, backing away. She had not mentioned we would have spectators. I assumed this would be a private affair.

  “Come in, Princess Roisin,” Lady Aberthorne’s voice echoed in the room.

  I glanced up to find her seated on a great wooden throne upon a dais, a black velvet cloak spilling all around her.

  The footman waved for me to enter, but I hesitated in the doorway, a cold sweat beading on my brow. This woman was surely mad to invite me to exhibit in front of these faceless strangers.

  My eyes scanned the room and landed on Joseph standing next to a marble pillar. He wore nothing but a long swathe of Scottish plaid, and a small, nervous giggle escaped my lips. He shrugged, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling, and I found my courage again. Lady Aberthorne may have confused Irish and Scottish traditional dress, but at least it allowed me to find the humor in it. Besides, the kilt suited Joseph, the way it passed across his finely cut abdomen and settled on his hips before flaring out. He also wore a brooch to lock it in place, but I wondered how he managed to twist into that thing by himself. The thought of him rolling around the floor, trying to wrap the kilt around his body sent another fit of giggles bubbling up my throat. I blinked hard, trying to keep my face impassive as I swept into the room.

  I knew how to give a performance, to improvise if needed. My childhood in the theatre had given me that much. I bowed to Lady Aberthorne and prostrated myself before her.

  “I am here to serve you, mistress,” I said, keeping my eyes to floor. I felt Joseph’s gaze on the back of my neck, and my skin prickled. “But I had hoped for a more intimate evening.”

  “You refer to my guests,” she said, her voice echoing across the catacombs. “I can assure you these initiates are members of my deepest inner circle. Their discretion is paramount, and to break their oaths would mean a fate worse than death.”

  I swallowed hard, my eyes wandering again to the masked figures. If anyone could dole out swift justice, it would be the Aberthornes. Their ruthlessness in politics and social affairs was nothing short of legendary.

  “What is your will, mistress?” I glanced up at her and blanched at the wide smile spread across her face.

  She leaned forward. “Tonight, we initiate five of the gathering into our third degree order. I have asked you and your consort,” she waved her hand toward Joseph, “to prepare me for this most sacred ritual.”

  I tried to quell the annoyance rising up in my chest. I had made vague references to pagan rituals in The Chieftain’s Daughter, most of them garnered from my father’s peasant stories. He grew up in Connemara, and some of his relations still lived by the old ways. I threw them in to help advance the story, but I never imagined to find myself caught in my own Celtic fantasies. Biting my lip and unclenching my fists, I nodded, plastering what I hoped was a wise and knowing look on my face.

  “I am honored to be a part of it, mistress,” I said.

  “The blood of pagans runs through your veins, and it is you who honor us tonight, Roisin.” She stood up, her black cloak flowing around the dais and down the steps. She gestured to the cloaked figures in the corner. “These candidates are here as a part of their final initiation into the Gathering of the Phoenix. This evening, we celebrate the final stages of their induction to our innermost circle.”

  I glanced over my shoulder, peering at the six seated figures, but only their blank porcelain masks stared back at me. The effect sent a chill down my spine, and I fought the urge to pull my mantle closer around me.

  “Please rise,” Lady Aberthorne said.

  They stood as one, their black cloaks pooling around them on the floor.

  “Disrobe.”

  In movements so quick they appeared choreographed, the candidates pulled at the drawstrings of their cloaks, and the fabric fell to the floor with a shuddering sound. Two women and four men stood in the corner, naked as the day they were born, all of varying ages. I glanced away, my cheeks reddening. My hands shook, and I sneaked a look at Joseph. He eyed the naked candidates, his mouth in a tight, thin line. I recalled the way he and Lord Weston had pummeled the drunken revelers at the gathering a week ago. He said he would protect me, but we couldn’t have imagined this sort of situation. All manner of horrid possibilities ran through my head, and my shoulders trembled even as I glanced around for potential weapons.

  “Do not be afraid, Roisin.” Lady Aberthorne glided down the stairs and placed her cool hand to my cheek. “No harm will come to you. I will not require you to engage in any acts that make you uncomfortable. You and your consort attend us as our guests, and you will be treated as such.”

  I took a step back, eying the door. It wasn’t just physical harm I worried about. The death of my reputation by participating in such debauchery would be far worse.

  “Of course,” she said in a low voice. “All our candidates are bound to the highest levels of secrecy and discretion.”

  I cocked my head. “Bound, my lady?”

  She smiled. “Believe me, my dear Roisin. Nothing that occurs here will ever leave this room.”

  I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. The wrongness of it all, the scandal of it, sent my heart racing. And yet, I licked my lips, thinking of what strange delights Lady Aberthorne had planned for us. Her power, her social reach, the way she dominat
ed the room, all of it shrouded me in a complex spell of desire and longing. I could sense Joseph’s eyes on me, and his hot gaze made my breath quicken.

  She turned to him. “Bring me the chalice and the athame.”

  Chalice and athame.

  Of course. She was replaying the notorious scene from The Chieftain’s Daughter.

  Looking solemn, Joseph walked to a side table and picked up a dagger and a cup filled with red wine. Both were made of glass but decorated with fine silver. A six-pointed star in a circle at the end of the dagger caught the light, its jeweled edges glittering. Joseph hovered over me with them, his feet shifting slightly.

  “Stand up,” Lady Aberthorne commanded.

  I rose and faced him, studying his dark eyes. He was calm, but his shoulders tensed with alertness, his gaze shifting between the naked candidates and Lady Aberthorne.

  “Dip the atheme into the chalice,” she said.

  He submerged the dagger into the wine, and looked back at her, awaiting instructions.

  “Lady Roisin,” she said. “Will you drink from the atheme?”

  “I…” I glanced up at Joseph, and he nodded.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Joseph lifted the dagger out of the glass, and it dripped dark red liquid. Cupping his hand beneath it, he raised it to my lips, and a few drops of wine landed in my mouth. I thought about the night before, how I had swallowed his essence, and heat rose to my cheeks. He gave me a small wink, and a small bloom of wetness dripped from my core. With him beside me, the candidates and Lady Aberthorne turned to wallpaper, and I smiled up at him, the mischievous side of me aching to make this experience as erotic as possible. I wanted to excite him, make him hard, his constitution grow weak with desire. A drop of wine dripped down my chin, and I wiped it away with my finger, sucking the alcohol from it. Joseph’s eyes smoldered, and he took a deep breath before placing the dagger back within the chalice.

  “She is ready,” he said, placing the materials back on the side table.

  Our hostess pulled at the drawstring of her cloak, and it fell to the floor in a puddle of black velvet. My lips parted at the sight of her, her lean thighs, her full breasts. Tall and pale, she appeared as a marble statue in the candlelight, her dark hair falling in waves down her back.

  She took a step toward me and placed my hand in hers. “You have taken the blood of our master, and his spirit will mingle with the essence of your ancestors.”

  I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes and instead smiled for her as she led us to a stone altar with a pentagram etched in the center. Joseph followed behind me, heat radiating from his half-naked body. I glanced over my shoulder and caught him staring at me, his eyes hungry. My nipples hardened beneath my gown as he came to stand near me, his fingers grazing across my wrist with the slightest movement.

  Lady Aberthorne crawled onto the altar, and the candidates swarmed her, caressing her and massaging her skin. They bound her hands and feet to posts at the corners of the altar, her face smooth and calm as she stared up at the shadowed ceiling.

  “Roisin,” she said in a faraway voice. “Before I initiate our candidates into our innermost circle, I would like for you to cleanse my body with the five-fold kiss. Your consort shall lead you into the process and scourge me to make me ready to receive the candidates.”

  My heart quickened at the sound of scourge, and it was then I noticed the flogger in Joseph’s hand. I gave him a wide-eyed glance, but he merely fingered the leather thongs, letting it caress his palm before petting it again. He met my gaze and heat filled his eyes, and some strange part of me longed to be prostrate on the altar, the subject of the scourge. The flame of mischief, of jealousy and desire, sparked in my belly, and I inched closer to him, brushing my thigh against his.

  “First,” Joseph said. “You will kiss her feet.”

  I paused, giving him a sidelong glance.

  You can’t be serious.

  He smiled and took my hand, leading it to Lady Aberthorne’s bound foot.

  “Do not be alarmed,” he whispered in my ear. His hot breath sent a shudder of longing through me, and I edged closer to him as he brought my hand against her toe. “The feet are quite sensitive.”

  He led my hand up and down the sole of her feet, and she let out a moan.

  “Do not think about the body so much as the excitement it brings, the anticipation it builds for her.” He brushed his lips against my ear, and my knees buckled. Sweeping his arm out to grab me, his hand settled just below my breast. With the softest of movements, he brought his thumb over my nipple, and I let out a small moan. I surrendered to him, to Lady Aberthorne, to anything he wanted me to do. He pushed his hip against mine, and my body shuddered with the hardness of his arousal.

  He pointed to her instep. “Kiss her there.”

  I leaned down and pressed my lips against the delicate skin of her foot, and she let out a soft groan, her hips rising as I flicked my tongue over the tendons. Her toes curled, and I kissed them too. Joseph stood behind me, petting my hair, and the movement lulled me into submission.

  “Now the other one,” he whispered.

  I glanced up and heat rose to my face as I realized all the candidates were staring at me. I wondered what they thought of me, the Princess Roisin, licking the feet of Lady Aberthorne, and a nervous giggle bubbled up in my throat as I rubbed my palm against her ankle, brushing her other instep with my finger. Lady Aberthorne’s eyes closed, her mouth parted. My gaze wandered over to her exposed sex, how it glistened in the candlelight. The thought of my touch awakening such desire in her sent a shot of pleasure through me, a smile spreading across my face before I brought my lips down to her foot. My mouth lingered on her big toe, and I rolled it around with my tongue, sucking it. Her hips jerked, and I ran my fingers up and down the sole of her foot before pressing a soft kiss on the instep.

  Joseph’s finger rubbed harder against my nipple and my whole body tingled with excitement. The performer in me wanted to give him a show, arouse him to insanity. With the slightest movement, I shifted my hips against him, his hard cock jabbing through the thick fabric of the kilt.

  He growled in my ear, brushing my hair from my face. “Next, you will kiss her knees.”

  I looked over my shoulder, and his dark eyes arrested me. All the fear of participating in Lady Aberthorne’s secret rituals faded away, and all I wanted was Joseph’s hot gaze on my body. I may not have worn my binds like last night, but I felt a slave to him, ready to please him however he chose. If he commanded me to kiss the lady’s knees, I would. If he told me to lie down and make love to every man and woman in this room, I would. I was tied to him by some inexplicable bond, and if he willed it, I would make it so. Whatever he needed, I would give it to him.

  I crawled up onto the altar, Joseph’s hard presence still behind me, his hand on my flank. I smoothed my hand up Lady Aberthorne’s leg, and she gasped as my fingers brushed against the back of her knee. Her muscles strained beneath my touch, and I massaged them until she lay still.

  “That’s good,” Joseph breathed over my shoulder. “Kiss her now.”

  I kissed her knee and then shifted my body to the other side, working my fingers behind the back of her leg until she moaned. I pressed my lips to her knee and looked at Joseph, awaiting instruction.

  “Now,” he said. “You will kiss her womb.”

  He leaned close to my ear, and I shivered as his lips brushed against my ear.

  “Do you wish to continue,” he whispered.

  I nuzzled against his neck. “Yes…I will, yes.”

  He gripped my hip tighter and pushed me toward her beautiful quim. In spite of Joseph’s instruction from last night, I wasn’t prepared for the complexity of a woman’s private place up close. Fold after fold of skin framed her dripping slit, and as her thighs parted, her clitoris appeared, red and swollen. My trembling fingertips brushed against her opening, and she whimpered. Some primal force flamed within me at the sound, and the desire to pleasure La
dy Aberthorne, to overwhelm her, dominate her, flooded through me. Even as Joseph placed a firm hand on my shoulder, guiding me closer to her, a dark hunger took over, and my entire body shook with the force of it. My tongue lashed against her clit, and she let out a throaty cry, her hips writhing against the altar. I pressed my palms against her thighs, willing her to keep still as I buried my face into her dark curls, breathing in her earthy scent. The salty, musky taste of her filled my mouth, and I took her clit between my lips, sucking and sucking until she cried out, her entire body shuddering with the peak of her orgasm.

  Joseph’s fingers dug into my shoulder, and he pulled me away. “That’s enough, my dear. It’s just a kiss. We need to save her for her candidates.”

  I wiped her essence from my mouth and gave him a sly smile. His eyes dilated, and his cheeks flushed as he ran his hand down my arm, lingering at my wrist.

  “Next,” he said, “you will kiss her breasts.”

  I nodded and pulling my skirts up, I crawled up Lady Aberthorne’s exquisite body until I straddled her waist. Her gaze met mine, and her chest heaved as she practically panted with desire. My own naked sex rubbed against her, and she rolled her hips into me. I arched my back, pulsing waves of pleasure burning through me. With a low sound in my throat, I leaned down and clamped onto her breast, sucking hard. She bucked with a sharp gasp, and I ground harder against her. Rolling my tongue against her nipple, I created a deep suction, letting go with the slightest nip of my teeth.

  “Now the other one,” Joseph breathed in my ear.

  I shifted to the other side, my fingers brushing soft against the tender flesh. Our eyes locked, and I took her nipple into my mouth. The candidates surrounded us, the smell of sex and the sound of heavy breathing filling the air, but Joseph’s hand remained on my shoulder, his large body hovering near mine, firm and protective. Christine sometimes liked to cuddle with me when she was feeling especially lonely for her husband, but I had never pleasured a woman by caressing her breasts, sucking on her. Lady Aberthorne’s hips rose and fell against mine, and I let her rhythm overwhelm me as I rode her, the friction between us creating a tingling, pulsing heat between us.