Cruel Shame

by Sofia Daniel

  “The plan, remember?”

  “No,” I snarled.

  The sound of a wood hitting the floor turned my attention to the head table, where Mr. McGarr stood with his fists balled. “Why would you spout such lies about an innocent man?”

  I glanced at Mrs. Campbell, who gave the man a slight nod of approval. Inside, I cheered at him for speaking up.

  Elizabeth’s bottom lip trembled. “You don’t know how much pressure there is on me to be perfect. While you all proceed to your anonymous lives, I’ll be the next Lady Liddell, forced to manage a vast fortune.”

  “Therefore you’ll tell a bunch of people on TV that you were molested?” I spat.

  Elizabeth glanced from side to side, her eyes glistening with tears. Sniffing, she clutched her chest, and raised her shoulders to her ears like a demure victim. “I’ve already issued a written apology in the newspapers. That’s all I’ll say on the matter.”

  Someone in the back of the room booed. “What about the cocaine you pushed?”

  She backed out through the double doors, knocking down a pair of first-year boys, and sprinted out of sight.

  I shook my head and twisted my lips with disgust. “If she thinks that half-assed public apology will make up for what she did, she’s bloody deluded.”

  “Here it is.” Kendrick glanced down at his smartphone. “I, Lady Elizabeth Liddell, retract the statements I made alleging the improper sexual conduct of my headmaster, Mr. Duncan Burgh. I apologize for the subsequent upset to the running of Templar Academy.”

  The deliberate double-speak drifted over my head. I reached into my pocket. “Where did you find it?”

  “It’s best that I send you the link, since they buried it four clicks away from the Herald’s homepage.”

  Kendrick’s text popped up on my screen. I clicked the link and scanned the page, where the paragraph was hidden among a bunch of trivial Clarifications and Corrections, such as a reporter getting a statistic wrong for the amount of rainfall in the Outer Hebrides. Even though Kendrick had already read out Elizabeth’s apology, each time I scanned the words it looked more and more like she was portraying herself as an abused martyr who just wanted the best for Templar Academy.

  I swallowed back a mouthful of bitter bile. “What’s Mr. Burgh going to do with this?”

  The rest of the morning faded into a blur of anger. During our free period, Maxwell and I created an anonymous note addressed to a DNA company, asking them to check the parentage of myself and baby brother against an array of possible fathers. Inside the envelope were samples from me, Elizabeth, Lady Liddell, Camden Liddell, Father Neapolitan, the archbishop, and the solicitor, Mackinnon Macdonald.

  We placed the samples in a large envelope and stood it on the middle of the desk, and took a photo of the betting slip held up against the window of my circular room.

  Throughout Fashion and Textiles, Maxwell texted with messages outlining the progress he was making toward his plan. He set up a fake email address and forwarded the photo to Elizabeth with a message to meet behind the chapel after dark if she ever wanted so see her three-hundred-thousand pounds.

  I sat at the table, hand-stitching 3-D lace flowers to my embroidered bandana top, hoping we’d guessed right that Elizabeth still had the skeleton key Myra’s housekeeper mother used before she died. If she couldn’t sneak in and steal those samples, we were screwed.

  At lunch, I sat between Gideon and Kendrick, dipping a bread roll into my beef and onion soup. “What if she throws it away?”

  Kendrick shook his head “Elizabeth won’t resist the opportunity to discover the results, especially when she finds the betting slip missing and she’s wasted a trip to your room.”

  I took a bite of my roll, trying not to fret over the plan. Orlando volunteered to stand at the far end of the gardens with a pair of horse racing binoculars, and Maxwell loitered in the hallway beside the academy’s mail room. Each student had their own mailbox, and there was a bin where people posted outgoing parcels and letters.

  Kendrick cleared his throat. “Don’t turn around.”

  I stiffened and resisted the urge to check. “Is she still there?”

  “No.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “She just poked her head around the door. She’s gone, now.”

  “Elizabeth stole enough cocaine to get the academy high for weeks.” I stirred my stew and tried not to think of Mother. “Now her allowance has been stopped, she’s probably desperate for her next fix.”

  Gideon tutted. “Normally, I would baulk at such underhanded methods, but it’s a plan that only works if Elizabeth is in possession of a key that undermines the academy’s security.”

  “Not to mention how she obtained the money to purchase such a betting ticket,” Kendrick added.

  “Quite,” said Gideon.

  We ate our stew in tense silence, waiting for an update on Maxwell’s trap. Moments later, my phone buzzed with a text from Orlando.

  She’s just left your room with the envelope.

  “Did it work?” asked Kendrick.

  I nodded. “Someone needs to take back those keys, so she can stop sneaking into everybody’s rooms.”

  “Given the last time she vandalized your bedroom, I would say Elizabeth’s continued possession of them is a hazard,” said Kendrick.

  “I’m at a loss to understand how she’s not in an institution,” Gideon drawled.

  We finished our soup, Orlando joined us just in time for the most delicious-looking lattice apple pie and jugs of custard made from real vanilla pods. As I poured a generous serving into my bowl, my phone buzzed again. This time, the message was from Maxwell.

  E just entered the mailroom.

  “She’s posting it,” I whispered to the boys. “But I’m surprised Elizabeth didn’t hand the envelope to her mother.”

  Kendrick shook his head. “She wishes to redeem herself by controlling definitive information over your parentage that will secure her triumph over you.”

  Moments later, Elizabeth sauntered into the dining room with a wide smirk. She raised her hand and called over a pair of waiting staff. After seeing no sign of Maxwell for several minutes, I glanced over my shoulder at the double doors. What was taking him so long?

  My phone buzzed once more.

  I’ve removed her room number from the return address. Now the results will stay in the mailroom until they work out where to put them.

  “He did it,” I whispered.

  Orlando rose from his seat and offered me his hand. “This calls for a celebration.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  As Orlando led me out of the dining room, I glanced over my shoulder at Gideon and Kendrick, who both offered me smiles that said they knew exactly how Orlando wanted to celebrate our little victory. With a little wave, I turned back to Orlando, whose hurried footsteps sent a tingle of excitement between my legs.

  Would he take me back to his room and throw me down or would he bend me over the table and pummel me to a mind-blowing climax? Either way worked for me. We stepped out of the double doors and into the hallway, passing Miss Martin and Mr. McGarr’s brother.

  Instead of turning toward the stairs that led to the boys’ accommodation, Orlando headed in the other direction, toward the academy’s entrance. My mouth dropped open. Was he taking me back to my room? After everything that happened in there, it no longer felt like mine.

  My brows drew together. “Where are we going?”

  Orlando squeezed my hand. “Which lessons do you have this afternoon?”

  “Tailoring club?” I bit down on my lip, trying to work out what on earth he’d planned. “But that’s not until four. Why?”

  “Good, then it means you have the afternoon free.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me into his side. “I’m going to whisk you away until tomorrow morning.”

  I leaned back, placed a hand on his broad chest, and curled my fingers for a quick grope. Orlando stared ahead with a neutral expression, not giving me
a single clue on those handsome features. “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

  “How would you like an afternoon drive around the countryside, followed by an evening of sin?”

  “Alright,” I said with a laugh. “Especially the part about sinning.”

  We continued through the hallway, passing doors of classrooms containing students who’d been forced to remain inside to write lines. The poor buggers.

  Orlando gave my waist a firm squeeze. “Last night, when my grandfather called, he was practically in tears. He seems to think all that lecturing on the evils of you-know-what finally sunk into my thick skull and cured me of becoming like that infernal reprobate, Oscar Wilde.”

  I pressed my lips together in a tight line to hide a smile. How the old man could be convinced Orlando was gay because of one dumb video was mind boggling. Didn’t Orlando get into trouble loads of time before for lewd conduct with all those girls who got expelled?

  A gaggle of fourth-year girls passed on their way to a late lunch, casting Orlando admiring glances. I preened at his side. How did a girl like me get so lucky to have ensnared all three of the knights? We reached the half-staircase that led to the reception area, where the porter nodded good afternoon, and then we stepped through the double doors.

  Frost-laden wind blasted down the driveway, making me squint to protect my eyeballs. How long did cold weather in Scotland last? Sure, we were four-hundred-and-fifty miles north of Richley, but damn…

  When the air settled enough for me to crack them open them a little wider, I stared at a large, black limousine. The driver, a man wearing a black suit and a matching cap, stood by the passenger door and saluted.

  I turned to Orlando and frowned. “You arranged this?”

  “With a little help from the old man. He ordered me to wine and dine you until you fell at my feet in a frenzy.” Orlando leaned into me and nuzzled my neck, setting the skin alight with his lips. “Falling at my feet is optional. I’d much rather you fell on my dick.”

  An excited laugh bubbled up from my chest, awakening the butterflies in my stomach, and I shot Orlando my widest grin. These boys really knew how to put a girl’s mind off her troubles. Having faces and bodies beautiful enough to keep a girl distracted also helped.

  The driver opened the door, and Orlando swept out his arm. “After you.”

  I stepped into a warm interior of walnut panels and cream leather. This limo was L-shaped, with a seat longer than my bed taking up its entire left space and a bar and entertainment center on the right.

  Despite the array of drinks and snacks, a bottle of champagne sat in a bucket of ice, complete with four flutes. I settled into a plush seat, squeezed my thighs together, and smiled.

  “This reminds me of the time we drove back from Wank.” I scooted down toward the front and patted the seat. “Maybe today, I can touch you wherever I want.”

  “About that.” Orlando sat beside me with a grimace. “I don’t think I ever apologized to you for setting up those cameras—”

  “We’re even.” I placed a hand on his thigh, giving his quadriceps a slow squeeze. “I got you guys suspended, and you had to endure weeks of lectures from an old man obsessed with ass-fucking. That more than makes up for anything you planned.”

  His lips formed a crooked smile. “It resulted in my Grandfather taking up arms against the Liddells and him urging me to do whatever it took to keep you happy.”

  My tongue darted out to lick my lips. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

  The driver closed the door, encasing us in warmth. He jogged around the vehicle’s front, entered his separated section, and started up the engine.

  Orlando leaned over me, his fingertips brushing my legs. Tingles of pleasure rippled up my inner thighs and settled into my core. “You know me. I’m a dutiful student. Always willing to learn.”

  I raised my head to meet his eyes, only for him to press his lips onto mine with a kiss. It was soft and chase and the beginnings of a romantic evening, but my insides thrummed with the need for more.

  After all the months of exciting build-up, I thought Orlando would set upon me in the back of the limo. Every kiss we’d shared had been scorchingly hot, with him straining through his pants and me aching for him. Even that time he went down on me after cooking club, I wanted more. Now I wanted frenzied back-of-the-limo fucking, but it looked like Orlando was going to take things slow.

  “Do you know how much I’ve wanted you?” he murmured into the kiss.

  “Tell me?” I kissed back.

  “Since the moment I saw you in that hallway, dressed in leather and standing out among the sea of students.” He kissed one corner of my mouth and then the other. “You are so incredibly sexy.”

  “I could say the same about yourself.” Slipping my hands beneath his blazer, I tried to feel for his heart, but there was too much fabric beneath my fingertips.

  Orlando’s kisses traveled down to my jaw and to my earlobe, which he nibbled between his teeth. “You have the prettiest ears.”

  He sucked the lobe and laved it with sharp flicks that I swear I felt against my twitching clit.

  I shuddered at the phantom pleasure and melted against the leather seat. Outside, the limo sped down the driveway, making the frost-covered gardens a blur.

  “You have the prettiest everything,” Orlando murmured.

  A moan slipped from my lips. If he carried on like that, I’d be a puddle of mush before he even got a chance to uncork the champagne. I squeezed my eyes shut and slipped my fingers beneath his waistcoat. Fuck it. It wasn’t like climaxing too early didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the hard erection pressing into my thigh. If anything, it would loosen me up for some really vigorous sex.

  Orlando made nipping kisses down my neck, his lips sending sparks of arousal into my clenching core. One of his hands slipped beneath my blazer to cup and caress my breast, and his heavy thumb brushed back and forth over my hard nipple.

  I exhaled a shuddering breath and slipped my hand up his thigh. Orlando’s erection curved at an angle, restrained by his underwear. My mouth watered. The last time I saw his dick was on the day of the sex tape, and I was sure its tip was even larger than Maxwell’s.

  “Lilah.” His hot breath fanned against my neck. “I don’t think I can contain myself.”

  “Then don’t.” I grabbed him by the lapels and slammed my lips onto his.

  Orlando probably wanted to make this a nice, romantic afternoon that built up to sex. I loved the gesture, but I wasn’t the type of girl who needed luxury gifts and romantic settings. Sure, I appreciated them, but what mattered to me most was what I felt for the man.

  Out of the three knights, Orlando had the easiest personality. Always cheerful and laughing with a joke on his lips, and quick to diffuse Kendrick when he was being a dick. He was also an incredibly handsome alternative to the twins.

  While they were dark, he was light with a mop of curls I wanted to twist around my fingers. The twins had gray eyes, which could appear cold and brooding, and Orlando’s were a warm hazel and always twinkling.

  I slipped my fingers over the front of his waistcoat, unbuttoning the garment until it splayed open, revealing a muscled chest heaving beneath the white cotton of his shirt. Orlando had the most mouthwateringly golden skin, even in the midst of winter. I needed to unwrap him. Now.

  “Get naked,” I snarled into the kiss.

  “But I’ve booked—”

  “No.” I slipped my hand between his legs and cupped his fat, juicy balls.

  Orlando’s low groan reverberated between my legs. If he didn’t take off those bloody clothes, I would rip them off with my teeth.

  “Shit, Lilah, are you sure?”

  “Stop being such a gentleman and get out that cock.”

  As if those words were magical, Orlando somehow unbuttoned his shirt in seconds and at the same time, yanked down his pants and underwear around his knees, exposing the full might of his erection.

  My stomach droppe
d. On my seventeenth birthday, Nichelle bought me an extra-large, extra-thick dildo complete with prominent veins. We all laughed at it, saying there was no way a man could fill that with blood without fainting.

  But here it was—the golden version of that dildo, except with a pulsing, purpling tip that glistened with a bead of precum.

  All the moisture left my throat and gathered in my wet folds. Pushing Orlando back by the shoulders, I laid him flat on the limousine’s back seat. Seriously, I had to stop comparing the knights with Sammy. At best, that guy was average, but he was the only man I’d ever been with, and he'd proven himself both mediocre as a human and a lover.

  My gaze travelled down a beautifully muscled chest of dark, flat nipples, and defined abdominal muscles that were obscured by his erection jutting out of a nest of caramel-colored curls.

  Glorious.

  If I could handle Maxwell, Orlando would be a little more of a stretch.

  He wrapped his fingers around the base, somehow making himself look even bigger. “Get on top.”

  A whimper reverberated in my throat. This was going to be the ride of my life.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I stared down at Orlando, who lay half-unwrapped on the limousine’s leather seat. His blond curls fanned around his handsome face like a halo, and he stared up at me through glazed eyes.

  His full, perfectly shaped lips parted to let out rapid breaths. My gaze travelled down the column of his muscled neck, over his collarbones, to a sculpted chest that rose and fell with his hot and heavy breaths, but it wasn’t nearly as mesmerizing as the way the contours of his stomach muscles tightened with each exhale.

  Forcing myself not to fixate on his dick, I tightened my fingers around the pants at his knees, murmuring, “Let me unwrap you first.”

  He kicked off his shoes and shuffled his pants down to his ankles. I yanked them off, so he lay bare. The pulse between my legs reminded me that I was overdressed for the occasion.

  After toeing off my loafers, I reached beneath my skirt, pulled down my tights, and straddled his hips. Even with my skirt creating a tent over us, his dick still strained against the fabric.