Billionaire: Billionaire Romance: Billionaire Tiger (A Billionaire New Adult Shifter Contemporary Romance) (35 page)

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Diana sat in her drawing-room embroidering a country scene. It still irked her that William had sailed off three months previously just like Richard had sailed away earlier. She knew she didn’t miss either of them. What she missed was what they could provide. This country life did not throw up many men who were able to meet the needs of Diana’s voracious appetite and she was a little choosy. The man had to be young, strong, intelligent, connected to avoid mercenary advances and full of vitality. There were few of those who could fit the job description around Tunbridge Wells. Strutting Peacocks were ten a penny.

Miller came to the door. “M’lady, are you at home to Lady Isabelle Fitzsimmons?”

“Indeed I am. Show her in.”

Isabelle breezed into the drawing-room. Diana put down her embroidery and stood up. The two women kissed cheek to cheek.

“How good of you to call Isabelle. I haven’t seen anyone for ages. This widowhood seems to scare people away.”

“That’s why I have come Diana. I know you may still be in mourning, but there is a masked ball in two weeks at Shire House, the Fortescue’s. I’ve been invited and they asked me to see if you could come out of mourning and attend. Everyone would love to see you there.”

Diana thought about it. Masked Balls were few and they attracted people from far and wide.
Maybe, just maybe, there could be someone there who would take care of my needs.

“Please thank the Fortescue's for me and tell them I would love to come.”

Chapter One

Diana closed the heavy church door behind her and looked down the aisle towards the altar. A stained glass window behind it let in light sending rainbow shards of luminescence on to engraved flagstones that covered the important but long dead. The hood of her black cloak covered her ringlets and the rest of the garment made sure her décolletage did not offend the surroundings. It was almost as if she was floating on air.

Autumn flowers bedecked the aisles and around the altar.

“Lock the door,” a voice resounded throughout the building.

She looked up at the stone pulpit with its carved relief standing about eight feet from the floor of the church at the end of the aisle. In it waited Reverend Montague Chivers, an intense looking man of about thirty years. This new vicar had recently replaced the geriatric Reverend Molineux. His long black hair was not tied up in the usual fashion at the back. Instead, it hung loose about his shoulders giving him an almost gypsy look. To go with that image were his dark eyes and swarthy complexion. Dressed in a black frock coat with a white shirt and cravat he looked down at Diana from his eyrie.

She looked to see a huge key in the lock of the church door. As she turned it, she heard the mechanism slam into place.

“Come forward,” demanded the vicar.

Diana stepped down the aisle with her heart beating so loudly she was sure the Reverend would hear it. She still felt she was floating on air.

“Come up here.”

Diana climbed the well-worn stone steps, one at a time until she reached the top. There was little room for two people in the pulpit and her body pressed up hard against his. She could almost taste the manly smell that emanated from his strong body. And with the proximity of his body she felt his swelling.

“You have sinned woman. You shall be punished.”

The vicar took hold of Diana’s waist and lowered her to her knees. The tight space meant that her face was almost in his crotch.

“Do you accept that you are a sinner, woman?”

“Yes, Reverend. I do.”

“And do you accept the punishment you are about to receive to cleanse your soul?”

“I do Reverend.”

“Then prepare to receive your punishment.”

He unbuckled his belt, undid the buttons and out fell his solid manhood. He pushed it towards her lips. She opened her mouth and let him enter. It touched the back of her throat nearly making her gag.

Subservience was not in Diana’s repertoire. She took hold of him in her hand and pulled him out of her mouth.

“No, you have been the sinner and you shall be punished,” she said.

She stood up, turned her back and gripped the side of the pulpit.

She felt her dress being lifted at the back and her pantaloons pulled down. Her fingers gripped the pulpit edge harder until the whites of her knuckles showed.

“Are you ready sinner?”

“I am, are you?”

She decided she didn’t want him to do it that way. She turned around to face him. With her pantaloons around her ankles and holding up her dress, she hoisted herself onto his erect penis pushing him back against the pulpit.

There was no resistance as he slid into her. Diana was well lubricated in that place in anticipation of what was to come.

He drove hard into her again and again as she came down on him with all her force. For a moment, she thought they would topple over out of the pulpit but she gripped the edge of it to keep her balance while his arms wrapped around her back to give him more manoeuvrability.

As he shoved in and out, she cast her gaze around the church over his quivering shoulder. A church she knew so well and had attended every Sunday for many years looked so different from up here.

She could hear his panting as he slowed with exhaustion. Diana had not even broken into a sweat and forced herself down harder and harder until he let out a deep breath, a guttural sound and then his whole body seemed to relax. She felt him shrink as it lost its tension, it slid out.

Chapter Two

Diana lay in her four poster bed looking at the fading darkness outside as the autumn day roused itself from its overnight damp slumber. Why on earth was she dreaming about the vicar? And in such a way? It troubled her. He was indeed an attractive man, but she had no intention of acting out her dream.

Soon it would be light. In the distance, the church clock chimed six. This was a day she was not looking forward to. She pulled the white silk sheet up over her face.
Perhaps I can hide in here.

The creaking sound of the great house waking seemed louder today. A murder of crows outside on the lawn were awake and having a family dispute.

Her mind went over the options again. The simplest was to go out and not be home at three o’clock when Richard and William would both arrive, separately, to claim her. Diana knew this would only put off the inevitable. Sooner or later she would have to face both men and make a decision. The trouble was; she didn’t know who she wanted or indeed if she wanted either of them.

If I choose Richard, will I have to go to India with him? I don’t think I want to take my son, Michael, there. I hear there are a great many diseases and dangers in that country. And it is too hot.

If I choose William, we will have to move to Devon for him to run his estate which means leaving Eylebourne Hall in the hands of an Estate Manager. It’s better than India, but I don’t want to go.

I could choose neither. That may be the best option. But Richard is my son’s father though he does not know. At least I don’t think he knows.

As each minute ticked by it seemed like a lifetime. Eventually, the October sun crept over the windowsill.

A knock on the door was followed by its opening and Ann, her lady’s maid, came in with a teapot and cup and saucer. Ann poured out the tea as Diana sat up in bed and pulled the linen nightdress up around her shoulders. It wasn’t the most elegant of nightdresses, the silk one remained in the wardrobe. With no man to excite, what is the point of wearing it out? That was Diana’s opinion. Though wealthy she was careful with expenses.

“Thank you,” said Diana taking the China teacup from her.

Ann bobbed a curtsey. “Should I draw your bath M’Lady?”

“Yes, please.”

Ann scurried off into the bathroom.

Diana still mused over her options but found she could not make a final decision on the man who would benefit from her favours. She did manage to decide that she would stay and face both of them at three o’clock.

Ann came back into the bedroom and busied herself getting her Mistress’s clothes ready for the day. “M’Lady, would you like the blue or the burgundy dress today?”

Diana thought about impact. The burgundy would have an element of risqué in it; not quite the ‘scarlet woman’ but something along those lines. She decided on the pale blue; it would give her a cooler look. She would wear the darker blue shawl around her shoulders. It may not be wise to excite these two men who are rivals even if they don’t know it, she thought. Her shawl would cover her ample décolletage.

The memory of her dream about the vicar still hung around in her mind making her aroused yet worried.

Chapter Three

Jane, her son’s Nanny, brought the boy, now four years old, into the dining room. He wore a blue velvet jacket, short pants and an enormous smile.

“Good morning Mother,” said the boy.

“Good morning Michael,” said Diana.

Jane bobbed a curtsey.

“Jane, I’m going to be busy today. Please make sure Michael is kept amused and this afternoon I have distinguished visitors. It would please me greatly if he were to stay upstairs in the nursery.”

“Yes, M’Lady,” said Jane raising an eyebrow.

“No, it isn’t anything like that Jane. Just two visitors who may not like each other and I don’t want Michael to see any unpleasantness.”

“I understand M’Lady.” Jane smiled. She was no stranger to her Mistress’s dalliances though it had worried her that there had been none as far as she knew over the past year. Jane was glad the relationship with the German baron had not continued. She’d seen the bruising on Diana that came from her bizarre sexual experiments with that man.

Diana finished her toast and coffee, took Michael from Jane and led him into the drawing-room.

She played with him building wooden blocks on the floor for an hour until he became bored. Jane returned without being summoned and took the boy upstairs to play with his sailing boat in the bath.

Diana sat in her favourite armchair by a roaring log fire embroidering a jungle scene from her imagination. Her travels had never taken her to a jungle nor did she have any desire to visit one though the colours of the flowers and plants she had seen in books appealed to her. She looked out through the French windows to see the wind whisking up fallen leaves and turning them like a miniature tornado before dumping them back on the ground. A little mist covered the far hills. Miller, the gardener, was busy at work trimming a topiary chicken in the box hedge. England in autumn must be so unlike India, she thought.

Her affair with Richard crept into her mind. She remembered being taken in the straw bales and again in a room above a shop in the Pantiles in Tunbridge Wells. Then she thought of being taken from behind by William in the carriage when they were en route for Maidstone to collect her husband’s body. Diana had managed to erase the thoughts of her ordeals under her husband that she endured every Thursday night for five years.

A year had passed since she had an affair with the Baron and experienced the darker side of sex involving bondage and spanking. She didn’t want to try that again. Diana felt glad that she had tried out that side of it, but it wasn’t for her. Receiving pain or giving it was not in her fantasies.

She realised the dream about the vicar may have been her subconscious playing tricks with the memory of her liaison with the German.

Her local High Society had a dearth of eligible young men. She often daydreamed about the new vicar on Sundays when he was in his pulpit preaching fire and brimstone. She had wondered what it would be like to have him take her in that pulpit. Diana had played out her fantasy, alone, in the bath on several occasions. That fantasy had now evolved into a dream while she was asleep. What she craved was the real thing but she could hardly seduce the vicar.
On the other hand… no.
She shook away the vision lest God should strike her down.

There was no doubt that this vicar was an agreeable man and much younger than the previous incumbent. And he was without a wife but Diana did not want to be a vicar’s wife. Her life at Eylebourne Hall was far too comfortable for her to give up in favour of genteel poverty as the wife of a preacher.
But a good ploughing by him… stop it Diana!

The grandfather clock struck twelve. Diana winced. Dark clouds had taken over the sky and she could see that rain was imminent. A dreadful storm would be welcome. It would keep Richard and William from visiting.

Diana ate little of her lunch of smoked haddock and poached egg. She had not fancied anything more than a simple dish, but even this didn’t go down well.

Ann tidied away the plates. Diana asked her to bring Miller to the drawing room.

Back in her favourite armchair Diana waited for Miller. The old man came in, still in his gardening clothes and bowed.

“I need you to be the Butler this afternoon. I have two visitors expected at three o’clock. They will arrive separately. You need to receive them and show them in here to me.”

“Yes, M’Lady.”

Diana liked old Miller. He’d served her grandmother, mother and father since before she was born. When Diana married Sir Reginald, her mother had insisted Miller went to Eylebourne Hall with her. She could afford a full-time butler and more staff but she was happy with him doing the role part time and as for maids and servants she had her cleaners come in daily. Her small team of Nanny, Lady’s Maid, Cook, Miller and the Stable Boy was just right, in her opinion. She had no desire to show off her wealth by having more servants than necessary. When her husband was alive, he appreciated her frugality as long as his food was on the table and his house clean and well run.

Miller backed out of the room to go and change into something resembling a butler.

Diana stood at the French windows looking out on the garden. A silver birch tree reminded her of being taken underneath it on a starry night by William. A few spots of rain landed on the terrace and against the windows. There would be no storm; just a light rain.