A Rose Between the Thornes (2 page)

The queue moved forward. Sophia found herself propelled sideways, away from Hermione. It mattered little, for once inside the ballroom, having greeted their hosts, they would go their separate way until it was time to leave. As far as Sophia was concerned, the hour they had agreed upon could not come soon enough.

Carried by the mass, she discovered she was now near the edge of the room. Expecting a little more space, Sophia drew in a deep breath. It was hot, airless, and...and there was a cock pressing against her bottom. Again that chuckle, then a breath on her ear.

“So now I can do something I have long wished to do, my dear. Tis only a pity we have clothes in the way.”

What?
Sophia wondered just who was speaking. The voice was vaguely familiar, but even though she racked her brains she could not place it. Still she tried to crane her head. A large, male hand slipped with erotic precision over her hip, caressing, and exciting.

“Don’t turn; look straight ahead.” The note of command in his voice was absolute. His hand moved forward and cupped her quim. Even over her silks, the heat warmed her and her juices collected at the juncture of her thighs.

“Lean back into me.”

Should she?

“Oh you should.”

Had she spoken aloud?

“I can read you, my dear, there is no need for you to speak,” the unknown person continued. “Now lean back into me, let my cock be cradled. Let our hands hint at delights to come.” She obeyed instinctively, without thinking. Her mind flitted over the words uttered.
Our hands? Not my hands, but our hands.
Yes, there was no doubt she felt more than two hands on her. One, very skillfully held her arse tight against a very hard throbbing cock. Another hand was carefully holding her close to a male thigh, the rest of the body it belonged to was out of sight, behind her. She could see no face.
Oh my
. Another hand touched her quim, softly rubbed her wet cunt through her silks.
All this in the receiving queue of a ball?
Was she dreaming?

“It is real. We want to show you what you can expect.”

“Three hands?” she asked. Sophia held on to her temper with difficulty. It was hard not knowing to whom she was directing her speech. “And no names”?” A fourth hand skimmed across her breasts. Long, elegant fingers unerringly brushed her nipples. To her dismay they did not conform to fashion. There wasn’t even a clue to be found of their owner by a signet ring.

“Four hands, two mouths, and two very hungry cocks.” She felt another rub across her arse, a soft caress on her breasts, and suddenly all pressure was gone. Even the crowd seemed to thin. With a jolt, Sophia realized she was almost at her hostess. For nigh on thirty minutes she had been—entertained—by she knew not whom.

Surely Hermione had not had the chance to call the watchdogs off already?
Determined to find out, Sophia greeted her host with less ceremony than was strictly correct. Her mind was on other things, and therefore her curtsey only just qualified as proper and her thanks for her invitation were perfunctory. She was lucky her hostess was more interested in the newly engaged couple who queued behind her, and was therefore pleased to let Sophia pass into the body of the room.

Once inside she sought her niece.

“Have you spoken to those reprobates and demanded they back off? Told them of my displeasure?”

“No, not as yet, why?” Hermione queried.

“No reason,” Sophia improvised rapidly. She could still feel the imprint of those bodies on her. “I wondered what I would play tonight, cards or dalliance?”

“Sadly it seems, it must be cards,” Hermione replied. “For I feel no one will defy Berry and Ran.” She patted Sophia’s arm. “I’m sorry. I will speak to them, with your leave.”

Sophia nodded, her mind awhirl. Somebody—no, two somebodies—had been ready to defy two of the ton’s most influential members to provide themselves and her with a little light flirting. She only wished she knew whom, if for no other reason than to thank them, even if it went no further. She felt more enervated than she had in months.

Two hours later, she had experienced enough of the so-called gaiety. How long before she could greet her hostess and find somewhere more congenial to wait out the hours until she could leave? Sophia had reluctantly conversed with those she felt necessary, and taken part in the one country dance expected of her. Her dancing partner, a prosy baronet, held her so stiffly she felt he would have stopped dead in the middle of the dance floor had she said “boo.” Why it was considered necessary for the ladies to have at least one partner, she had no idea. She would be much happier sitting and watching.

With the dance over, she headed toward the room set aside for penny-stake whist. Those gentlemen who took their cards seriously would not play on an occasion such as this, but go to their club, or heaven forbid, it was whispered, a gaming hell. Even though Sophia enjoyed using her considerable skill at the tables, she would never dream of upping the ante. However, she could see no reason why if gentlemen wanted to lose their fortunes they should not do so. Sadly, it seemed this night she was to be denied even the chance of winning or loosing a guinea or so. The tables were full, and no one looked up to offer her a seat.

It seems my mastery of cards goes before me.
Unaccountably disgruntled, she turned back to the doorway and came up against a wall.

A very human, hard, male, and—oh my—aroused wall. She had no need to take a swift downward glance to verify that fact. The pressure on her cunt told her so, as he held her close very close for what seemed an unaccountably long time, before he stepped back.

“My apologies, Lady Rose.” His eyes twinkled.

Rose? No one ever called me by my given name.
At an early age she had decreed it was not for her, and henceforth would only use her middle name—Sophia. Now this young man—for she would hazard he had not yet seen many more than thirty years, chose to do so.

“My name young man,” she said frostily, “is Sophia.”

“Your name, my dear, is Rose Sophia,” he corrected gently. “You choose not to use such a beautiful name with the evocative pictures it conjures up. I, however, chose to do so. And heed me well, when I cry your name as you writhe beneath me, over me, beside me, in passion, it is Rose I will use.” He was watching her carefully, perhaps to see her reaction. “And when I fill you and fuck you to fruition, it is Rose I will use to encourage you.”

Her cunt clenched, and her juices flowed.
Who was he? How dare he speak so, to bring such erotic and heat-making thoughts to my mind?
Her nipples peaked under her thin silks, and she saw by the way his eyes drifted down, he noticed also.
Damn him. Now I am wet and wanting and no chance to remedy the situation. I fear I may need to feel a headache shortly. I have to seek solitude, it seems, to assuage my desire.

“You.” Sophia endeavored to make the tone as cold as she could muster.
Really, will this evening ever end?
“Are a whippersnapper.”

He leaned forward, and whispered in her ear.

“Oh, I am. A whip snapper. Is that what you want, my love? A whip across the globes of your arse? To feel the sting and the pleasure before we fuck you? It can be arranged. In as many ways and times as you desire. Ah.” He straightened, leaving her flustered and with no come back. “Mama.”

Mama?
Sophia tried to collect her wayward thoughts away from the heat making visions in her brain to look at the lady in an elaborate turban bearing down on them.
Did he really say we and not I?

Estella, Lady Mardanelly, their hostess, stopped and accepted kisses from the gentleman, who Sophia saw, now she almost had her wits about her, was more than presentable. He was tall, and slim, with perfectly styled dark hair, and deep, deep, almost black eyes. If she had been poetic she would say they were “to drown in.” With immaculate evening clothes and an intricately and perfectly tied cravat, he was elegance personified.

“Jasper.” Lady Mardanelly greeted the man who stood next to her, and accepted Sophia’s curtsey. “Where is Nathaniel?”

Sophia watched as his cheeks reddened slightly. “He was called away briefly, Mama, he will be here in a trice.”

“Hmm, make sure he is. Your papa is absent as usual. You need to make your presence known. Twins.” She turned to Sophia. “Identical. Share everything. Always watching each other’s backs.”

His eyes twinkled and one eyelid closed so briefly Sophia wondered if she had imagined the wink. “Ah, you are so right; we do as you say.”

Share everything? I am undone.
How Sophia wished to put her hands to her face, for she was sure it must be more than rose colored. Instead, she could do nothing but smile, and listen, as her nemesis continued. “And we will continue to do so, Mama, never fear.”

Jasper kissed his parent’s hand with a flourish and a warmth his exaggerated gesture couldn’t hide. Lady Mardanelly patted his cheek in an absent manner and with a brief smile at Sophia drifted away to chat to another group of guests.

Once she was out of earshot Jasper turned to Sophia. His grin should have warned her; it was wild, wicked and full of male appreciation. “Especially when we are fucking our lady,” he said, in such a low tone for her ears alone. That, she decided was lucky, for he continued. “Although perhaps that is watching our fronts? Who knows? It will be a pleasure to hear your views as we pleasure you. And...,” he paused. “As Mama says, we share. Always. Everything. And everyone.”

***

Jasper Thorne, Viscount Steele, heir, by five minutes over his twin Nathaniel, to The Earl of Mardanelly, watched a range of emotions cross Sophia’s face.
Had I read her wrongly?
He thought not.

Earlier in the season, Nat passed on the message circulating the clubs from Berry and Ran. A stark, simple, and implied threat. Keep away from Rose Sophia. It had roused both their interests, even though no sane person wished to tangle with either of those gentlemen. Both were renowned for their ability to fight without any regard to good gamesmanship. Nor, it was whispered, did they have any reason to suppose any fracas they were involved in would be investigated.

The lady may be several years older than them, but the first time Jasper had seen her, many years before, his interest was piqued. In the strange way that he and his twin communicated, he had known Nat felt the same. Now, back within, well if not quite the bosom of the ton, but definitely the body, both, on seeing her again knew their feelings had not changed. And so the Rose between the Thorne’s campaign began. The only viable conclusion, in their minds, was to feel Rose Sophia sandwiched between them as they fucked her in every way imaginable, and a few more besides.

Jasper and Nathaniel watched, waited, and began to plot. They supported the adage to know your target well was to ensure success, and they intended to succeed. It was easy to extract information from the tabbies and dowagers of the ton if you knew how to go about it, and the twins were experts. Over several months they gradually began to learn how well loved the lady was. It didn’t stop their plans when, to their dismay, it was not as easy as they had supposed to learn much more. She was elusive, avoiding soirees and balls whenever possible. For every social event she appeared at where gentlemen were in attendance there were three she did not. As the gossips were at pains to point out, her enjoyment lay in nuncheon parties, poetry readings, and other all-women affairs. At a loss to understand why, eventually it had been Nat who saw the pattern emerging.

“She plays decoy for her niece,” he exclaimed one night as they watched Sophia at the card table. “She makes her presence known, so the tabbies believe Hermione is chaperoned. First she plays a few hands of cards for chicken stakes, gossips to those who notice such things, and then retires, her duty done. That way she protects Hermione and her activities as best she can.”

Jasper nodded. Very few people were privy to exactly what Hermione was doing. Only a long-standing friendship between the twins and Ran, and the knowledge of their own predilections, had given them any inkling. And the presumption was they would ward off as much speculation as possible regarding relationship between Hermione, Berry, and Ran. Which indeed, they did.

It was a given that if ever they resumed their activities, began in England and honed on the continent, Berry and Ran would return the favor—as long as it didn’t involve Sophia.

Jasper knew it was unlikely Sophia recognized either of them. Sent abroad several years earlier for one misdemeanor too many, they had found the continent much more suited to their admittedly extreme tastes. They had so much enjoyment that they deferred their return until commands demanding their presence immediately or be cut off permanently became ever more frequent. At last they reluctantly heeded them and returned. Though neither gave a fig for convention, Jasper accepted it was his duty to return and take up the reigns of the estate. He knew Nat would not leave him to do so alone and for this he was thankful. Jasper may be the heir by law but as far as he was concerned, the role, the money and the worries fell to the two of them. They shared everything, including whenever possible, women.

And now?
The thrill of the chase was once more about to commence.

“May I escort you to supper?” He bowed low and watched her through hooded eyes. “I feel sure—” he paused and smiled—”you are hungry for several things.”

“You presume too much.” How he loved that fiery glare, those sparkling eyes, even the tapping foot. “I do not want to be here, with or without you. I wish to leave. I am not hungry.”

Lady Mardanelly, who hovered nearby, picked up on her last sentence. “Come now, my dear, I’m sure your appetite will be whetted by what we have to offer. Jasper, be you so kind as to escort Lady Symons and ensure she wants for nothing?”

He could have laughed aloud at the look on Sophia’s face as she also picked up on the unconscious double entendre.

“It will be my pleasure,” he assured his parent, and offered his arm to Sophia who perforce had to take it. As soon as they were out of earshot of his mama he spoke. “To whet my lady’s appetite. And to add to your pleasure. To make sure you want for nothing, and are satisfied in all matters.” His cock stirred at the thought of the delights he felt were sure to come. Ruthlessly he suppressed it; the enjoyment of her flesh—all their flesh—must wait. First they needed to entice Sophia, intrigue her, and give her no get out.