My Three Lords Page 3

  “I can’t do that. The Earl of Dorchester is relying on me.”

  “He…he knows you’re—”

  “Of course he knows. I’m here at his request. He’ll be here a bit later.”

  My thoughts were a perfect whirl of confusion. My distraction allowed the Marquis to tear the counterpane from my grasp. In the next instant he strode to the side of the bed, picked me up under the arms and placed my feet on the floor.

  “You’re a dissipated, dissolute disgrace to your name,” I hissed at him. My fiery words seemed only to urge him on. He put his hands to the front of my petticoat and ripped the delicate cotton away from my body. Now I had only my loosened stays and chemise to keep me from nakedness. I batted furiously at his hands. “Does my husband know you’re treating me in this manner?”

  “Your husband wants a warm, willing wife. He would not be happy to see you behaving like a harridan.”

  “If he were here, I wouldn’t be.” I spat the words at him.

  “He isn’t here because he has sent me in his stead. Your duty is clear, chérie.”

  My duty was anything but clear. Yes, I was supposed to obey my husband. But wasn’t my husband supposed to initiate me into wedded life?

  “I know you, Alicia. I know you down to the bottom of your soul. You’re just as curious now as you were then. You want to know what’s in store in your married life.”

  I whirled away from him. “Only from my husband. Not you.”

  Iron arms gripped me from behind and flipped me onto the bed. I felt the weight of him against my back. I struggled to free myself, to no avail. The Marquis let me exhaust myself with my flailing until I lay still. Then he lowered his voice to a gentle murmur in my ear.

  “You know me to be a man of my word. I make you two promises, Alicia. The first is that I shall not take your maidenhead. Only one man may do so, and that is your husband. The second is that tonight you will experience more pleasure than you’ve ever imagined, thanks to me. If the Earl were here tonight, you’d receive no gentle caresses, no stroking such as I intend to give you. Your nipples would be left untouched, save for a rough tweak or two. Whereas I intend to savor their sweetness and watch them stand to attention like pink sentinels of your desire.”

  Pinned as if I were a helpless butterfly, I lost myself in the soothing cadence of his speech. I became aware of the heat and strength of his body, and an unfamiliar tingling in my belly.

  “You may think you prefer the Earl, but you’d regret it deeply. Your deflowering would be painful rather than pleasurable. Harsh rather than sweet. Such an event in a young girl’s life should bring tears of joy along with the tears of pain. That is what I offer, and the Earl, cognizant of your best interests as well as his own, has allowed me to provide this service. Do you understand?”

  I nodded, and when he didn’t respond, whispered, “Yes.”

  “Then come. Rise now.”

  The weight lifted off me and he helped me to my feet. When I stood facing him, I saw a look such as I’d never seen on his jaded face before. He looked almost tender. Slowly, gently, he traced the skin along the edge of my loosened stays. I felt a prickling in the tips of my breasts. When I looked down at myself, my nipples were just as he said, pink and standing up under the layers of undergarments. He hooked his finger in the busk between my breasts. My breath caught.

  “I won’t proceed further unless I have your full consent. Despite my reputation, I am not in the habit of forcing my attentions on unwilling girls. I must know that you accept what I’m offering you, fully and completely.”

  His black gaze seared into me, as if he could see all the hidden corners of my soul. And perhaps he could, because God help me, I wanted the things he’d promised, and more. I wanted to lie down on the bed and roll myself in the bedclothes, or strip off my chemise and run outside under the stars. I didn’t fully understand what was happening to me. My body felt heavy and yet light at the same time.

  “I do,” I whispered. “I accept.”

  His eyes glittered in the candlelight. I felt dizzy. For a moment, I was back in the barn at home, caught with a goatherd’s hand hovering over my breast. I’d looked up in alarm at the sound of soft laughter. The sight of the Marquis’ delighted, mocking smile had turned me to stone.

  There had been another feeling as well, a charge in the air that had made my skin prickle.

  I felt it again as his eyes deliberately consumed my body, top to toe. Under my eyelashes, I performed an inspection of my own. The Marquis was not a bad-looking man, slender of build, perhaps a head taller than myself. As always, he was dressed in the height of fashion, with an embroidered cream waistcoat and a splendid coat of dark blue superfine that fit him to perfection. He always appeared to be mocking the world around him, but over the years I had on occasion seen him perform small kindnesses that surprised me.

  “There has always been a special feeling between us, has there not?” As he spoke, he deftly removed my stays until I stood in nothing more than my chemise. I shivered at his nearness. Not for the first time, I thought what a powerful man he was, not in physique but in presence…a powerful man inclined to darkness.

  He picked up a candle and slowly walked around me, shining its light on my body. The warmth from the candle paled in comparison to the penetrating weight of his gaze. I fixed my eyes on the pretty dressing table on the far side of the room. I counted five silver-backed brushes and considered attempting to count the individual bristles to distract myself from the strange feelings stealing over me.

  A gentle touch on my posterior made me start. His hand cupped my bottom and warmth flooded my being. How could such a simple touch create such an uproar within me? With a firm hand and wandering fingers, he stroked my flesh. I felt the back of my chemise inch up my legs. The feel of his fingertips roaming across the backs of my thighs was so exquisite, I closed my eyes so the pleasure would continue.

  “Ah no, my dear, you are not allowed to close your eyes. I want you to fully comprehend that it is I, the dreaded Marquis de Beaumont, who is bringing you this enjoyment. Whose hands are now stroking your tender buttocks?”

  Tendrils of fire seemed to spread across my bottom as he quickened his touch. “Yours,” I gasped.

  “And who intends to remove this interfering chemise from your body?”

  My throat became suddenly parched. If he removed my chemise, I would be naked before the most notorious rake in England. “You,” I whispered. “But, please…”

  “Yes?” His fingers danced up the curve of my spine and my belly seemed to quiver in response. Cool air caressed my back as he drew up the chemise. “Ah, so lovely. I’ve waited a very long time for this moment.”

  I clutched the front of it to my chest. My head was such a confusing swarm of thoughts, I didn’t know what I wanted to say. Please continue. Stop this instant. The two opposite impulses battled in my mind. “Why me?” I managed. “Why a long time?”

  “Why you?” My question did not make him pause in his intrusions on my body. Every inch of exposed skin drew a caress or a pat from his relentless, curious, knowing hands. Every touch sent a cascade of shivers across my flesh. “I’m sure you don’t remember, but you first caught my eye as a girl dashing after your brothers. You ran directly into me, like a Spanish bull into a cape. I have been accustomed to find myself a figure of fright for young girls. But you seemed to have no fear of me. I plucked you off the ground and held you high. You looked back at me with those frank eyes of yours, whose color I find no words for, somewhere in the mysterious realm between gray and blue, and you said, quite simply, “You were directly in my path. You will please to put me down now.” And so I did, and watched, bemused, as you raced away to join your brothers. At that moment I knew you were an unusual girl.”

  By this time he was in front of me, loosing my hands from their grip on my chemise. I looked up at him and found myself surprised by a hint of softness in his usually sharp eyes.

  “This chemise,” he told me softl
y, “can hide nothing from me. I know your soul, ma chérie, perhaps better than you do yourself. You desire things you cannot name. You sense it in the springtime air, the moonlight over a stream, the scent of lilacs in the sunshine. The world promises you something just beyond your senses, something you cannot grasp, simply because you don’t yet know how. I will show you how, my dear, if you will tell me one thing.”

  As if compelled by some mysterious force, my fists relaxed their hold on my garment and fell to my side. I stood, a willing victim, waiting for the Marquis to make my unwanted clothing disappear. To my utter disappointment, he stepped back.

  “Oh no, sweet. You will be an eager participant in our adventure, or I will have none of it. Now answer me a question, please.” His suddenly brisk tone made me raise my head in surprise. “I have told you how I perceived you at first meeting. Now I require the same of you. Did you find an ogre in your path that day, or perhaps at our next encounter, if that one is lost to your memory? Am I a figure from your nightmares, a dark and satanic man to be feared, or do you allow the possibility of a more—”

  “Shhh.” From somewhere, I found the boldness to rise on to my toes and put a hand over his mouth. “I do not think you an ogre. Never have I thought so.”

  His eyes, over the top of my hand, looked painfully relieved by my answer. I took my hand away, and he grasped it tightly. “No ogre?”

  “Not at all. Do you not remember the time you comforted me when my brothers refused to take me with them to fish for trout?”

  “You were fifteen at the time, and had to stay at home and complete your watercolor.”

  “Yes. No one seemed to be the least bit sympathetic, save you, despite the way you teased me out of my suffering. But did you never wonder why I unburdened myself to you?”

  “No,” he answered, his brow furrowing in surprise. “I was simply overjoyed that you did.”

  “You had gained my trust by never betraying my secret.”

  A spark lit deep in his eyes. “Ah, the goatherd.”

  “Yes. For days, weeks, I lived in dread of what punishment I might receive. I never imagined that you would keep my secret for me. To this day, I don’t understand why you did.”

  “Do you not?” The spark grew to a devilish grin. He tilted my chin up with one hand, while the other busied itself feeling my bosom through my chemise. “Because some day I knew we would find ourselves here, you and I, and your trust would come to full flower. Now I intend to rid you of your clothing. Do you consent?”

  The play of his hand on my bosom was unbearably exciting. My breath seemed to retreat into my throat. Gazing into his eyes, where the promise of unknown pleasures lurked, I nodded.

  “That will do for now. Later, I intend to extract a more pronounced expression of your desire.”

  My skin shivered with longing and my ears became tired of so many words. A rebellious impulse drove me to attempt to take command of the proceedings. “Do it, please,” I ordered him. “I grow weary of talk.”

  Delighted laughter accompanied the Marquis’ enthusiastic removal of my chemise. “There’s my girl,” he breathed when I was naked. “Just as I thought, willful, forthright and utterly innocent.” He stroked his hand across my belly. “So fresh and tender. Your skin is like that of a fawn. Your breasts are delightful, and these little pebbles are crying out for my attention, aren’t they?”

  Oh, they were, yes they were, as I discovered when he placed his warm hands on my breasts, the nipples caught between two fingers. A frenzied joy lanced through me and brought a fluttering to my lower parts. A moan escaped my lips.

  “Ah, just as I suspected,” he murmured. “Such sensitive little morsels deserve all the attention I can spare from the rest of your delectable body. But there’s simply so much to discover.”

  He lowered his head to my bosom and to my utter shock put his tongue to my nipple. All I could do was gasp, then hold his head close to me so that I should not fall into a swoon from the pleasure. Wet warmth surrounded me. With tongue and teeth he nipped at my nipples until I bit back a scream.

  At times, late at night under the bedcovers, I had felt my own bosom and other private parts, but the sensation was entirely different when produced by a man’s firm, commanding mouth.

  A feeling of weakness stole through my limbs. I lost track of where his hands were and what they were doing, other than to comprehend that I no longer had any will to protest.

  In fact, my body seemed to have become complicit in the Marquis’ explorations. My legs parted of their own will as his hand neared that most secret of all places. But despite my manifest desire, he merely brushed his hand over the soft hair on my mound.

  “Only when you’re ready, chérie,” he murmured into my bosom. “Entirely, indubitably ready. Annie? You may enter.”

  Chapter Three

  I wrenched myself from the Marquis’ arms. To my shock, the abigail came into the room carrying a bowl of liquid and a washcloth. She closed the door behind her and stood with her eyes cast downward.

  I glared my outrage at the Marquis. “Now, now, my girl, no need for such a look. Annie is here merely to prepare you. You’re accustomed to lady’s maids bathing you. This is merely a variation on that theme. She will ply you with soothing oils and scents to enhance your experience. This is a technique I discovered during my travels in the Orient. When I returned, I trained Annie and have found her to be greatly proficient in the art. Now come stand in the center of the room here.”

  He led me to the spot he indicated, then lifted both of my hands into the air with one of his own.

  “Beautiful, is she not, Annie?”

  “Aye, my lord. Most beautiful.” I detected a smile in her voice that was oddly reassuring. She came close, dipped her hands in the liquid, and brought them to the outer edge of my hips. I shivered at the unfamiliar touch. The scent of rose, lavender, and something spicy emanated from the oil. Her hands gently traveled up my torso until they approached my bosom. I caught my breath, wanting and fearing her touch on my nipples, but it did not come. Perhaps they were too erect, I wondered, embarrassed at my own cravings. Was it natural for a girl’s nipples to stand so firmly from their chest?

  The Marquis’ deep voice intruded into my thoughts. “I want you to become accustomed to hands on your body, hands that do not belong to your husband. There are many ways to attain pleasure, and I find it absurd to limit oneself to the marital relation only. Dorch is in full agreement with me, or at least he shall be. Tell me how this feels to you.”

  My head fell back as Annie rubbed the oil into the space between my breasts, along my neck, and on the plump outer curve of my bosom. “Lovely,” I breathed. Oh how I wished she would touch my nipples, but she seemed determined to avoid them. She knelt down to rub oil into my ankles, then stroked her hands up the inner part of my thighs. My legs quivered and I would have fallen to the floor if the Marquis hadn’t held me upright.

  “Leave her cunny to me,” he told Annie. She nodded, and I didn’t have to inquire what the word meant. Growing up as I had, in the country, I’d overheard several references to that part of the female anatomy. I’d once taken a hand mirror and attempted to peek at my own. My curiosity has always been one of my biggest flaws.

  Annie disappeared behind me and worked the oil into my flanks. And suddenly I felt a strong, more masculine touch on my front. With one hand, the Marquis kept my arms raised above me, with the other he took a firm grasp of one nipple. I cried out at the sharp stab of excitement. He put his fingers to his mouth to wet them, then pulled at my nipple until helpless whimpers flew from my mouth. Then he transferred his attentions to my other nipple, until both were plump and gleaming, nearly twice their habitual size.

  “Oh, please,” I gasped, not sure what I was begging for. “Please, more, more.”

  But just then I jumped a bit, because Annie’s hands had found their way to the crease in my buttocks. She rubbed from the top of the crevice all the way to the edge of my most private part
s. I’m embarrassed to say I tilted my hips to allow her more freedom in her ministrations. I did the same with my chest, thrusting my nipples forward into the Marquis’ grasp.

  In that moment, I knew I would do anything to make these intoxicating caresses continue. The pretty room around me disappeared into a haze of delight. My two determined pleasurers were both behind me, a fact that relieved me greatly and allowed me to imagine this was all a lovely dream.

  After all, it couldn’t possibly be true.

  “Would you allow me to touch between your legs?” the Marquis asked, breathing hot into my ear. He let loose my hands so they were no longer over my head, then brought them down to be gathered behind my back by Annie. He himself moved to my side.

  My response was a sharp “oh” of surprise. He appeared to accept it as assent, for soon my thighs felt a tickle and a forceful hand pushed them apart. And then a most wonderful feeling ensued, a melting pleasure such as I had never imagined. All the world became consumed by the mounting fire provoked by the Marquis’ hand. His fingers pushed aside my flesh to press the tiny spot where all my urges appeared to concentrate. I had discovered this little nub during my own explorations, but I did not know its name, and certainly it had never produced the sensations elicited by the Marquis de Beaumont’s devilish hand.

  I squirmed under his caresses, only to find my movements restricted by the presence of the abigail behind me. My skin flushed and became especially sensitive to the touch. I felt the rough linen of her dress press against my back. Her sweet breath came quickly on the back of my neck. I knew I should be embarrassed by her presence, but I was not. The knowledge that she was watching my urgent writhing brought me to a new peak of excitement. I leaned back against her soft body.

  “Oh, ma petite, you are even more sweet than I dared to hope. Open your legs for me, yes, precisely like that, oh, tell me how that feels to you.” The Marquis’ hot murmurs added to my fever.

  “It’s…oh, I have no words for it.” Was it proper for anything to feel so divine? Worry cast a shadow over my pleasure, until I remembered his promise not to steal my maidenhead. After all, this was what my husband desired. My hesitation disappeared, and I widened my legs to allow his hand deeper into my most private area. As I did so, I became aware of an unusual wetness. I feared he would notice and become disgusted, but instead, he appeared delighted at his discovery.