Her Lord's Table (6 page)

Waves of darkness washed in and out at the edges of her vision. She felt faint. She knew she must be hallucinating. “M-marry? A wife?”

He smiled. “That
is
how one customarily gets a wife. By marrying her.”

“But, you don’t want to marry me?”

“I do. I will.” He took her hand. “I knew from the moment I saw you that you were special. Fresh. So full of spirit. From the moment I first made love to you, I knew I would never let you go.”

He dropped a kiss on her hair then stood. He pulled himself to his full, imposing height, and put his hands behind his back. He looked powerful and determined. “Even if you don’t feel the same way about me, I cannot allow you to do anything but marry me. You haven’t considered the possible consequences of our night together. I wouldn’t allow any child of mine to suffer in any way when I could provide him or her with the life they deserve.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

He went on regardless. “Let me assure you not everyone experiences the levels of joy we found with each other last night. I know the sex wasn’t abhorrent to you.” His voice caught, and his bearing lost some of its rigidity. “Susan, surely your enjoyment, and the love you bear for your family, is enough to convince you to accept my proposal.”

A frown had formed between his eyes. Lines bracketed his mouth. Susan saw these signs with wonder. He was worried. He had not made a mere proposal in form. Her answer really mattered to him.

She felt a smile stretch her lips as she surged to her feet. How could she say no? How could he imagine she would not want him? Hands outstretched, she went to him. “Yes. Oh yes. I will marry you. Not because you have promised to care for my family. Not because there may be a child. Not because I may have nowhere else to go. I will marry you because nothing else could ever make me so happy. No one else could make me feel as you do.” She flung her arms around him in the wild abandon he’d taught her to embrace. “Yes. Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.”

He lowered his head and kissed her—deeply, passionately, a promise of all to come in their life.

After he lifted his head, he led her over to his desk. “I will write a draft to my bank and have money sent to your mother immediately.”

When he’d finished writing, he reached out to pull the bell cord hanging nearby. A footman arrived. “Have this delivered at once. Make sure a breakfast tray is prepared and brought to my room,” Anthony ordered.

The footman backed out, and Anthony took her once more into his arms. “For now, my love, I think the only table I will allow you to grace is my own. The way we choose to eat, we will need our privacy.” With that, he led a very willing Susan out of the door.

In the bedroom, he let go her hand. He grasped the two sides of her faded cotton gown and tore it asunder. “I hate that dress,” he said. “Never again will you wear something so unfit for your beauty.”

He dispensed with her petticoats and camisole in the same abrupt way. His masterfulness pleased her, but she couldn’t help but wonder, “What will I wear?”

“Whatever I choose to dress you in,” he replied, his eyes blazing. “At the moment, nothing at all.”

A light scratching at the door interrupted him. He strode over to open it no more than a fraction. When he turned back, he held a heaped tray in his hands. He walked toward her, kicking the door closed with his boot as he did so.

“Lie down,” he ordered.

“I won’t be able to eat if I’m…”

“Lie down.”

Because he had already accustomed her to obey, because every time she did he rewarded her with deep, intense pleasure, she reclined on the bed.

He brought the tray over and set it on the bedside table. He dipped his finger in the cup of chocolate then held it over her mouth.

She knew this game, knew what he wanted from her. She opened her lips to let him ease his finger inside. She curled her tongue, gently sucking. Then he took the cup and dripped the warm liquid over her breasts, licking and sucking until all traces were gone.

He parted her legs and draped her mound with a thin slice of ham, which he ate straight from her bare flesh. A wicked twinkle flashed in his eyes as he glanced up at her. “You make a perfect table my dear. Everything tastes more delicious this way.”

He finished the morsel, making a great play of licking her skin, leaving no trace of the salty treat. By the time he’d licked down to her moist cleft she was moaning and writhing. He drove her on, the tip of his tongue flicking faster and faster until the now familiar feeling of release came over her with a rush.

But this time when she recovered, she turned the tables and sat up, searching the tray. She examined it, finger tapping against her lips, until she settled on a plate containing a pat of butter. She clutched the china to her chest.

“You are still dressed, my lord,” she said. “I suggest you rectify the fault at once.”

“So you are now giving orders.” He grinned. “As you wish.” He stood up, shrugging out of his clothes, until he stood magnificently naked and erect in front of her.

She reached out to rub his cock with a butter-smeared finger. She wrapped her fist around the thick cylinder, sliding up and down on the oiled surface. The strangled sigh he gave told her how much he enjoyed her ministrations.

Pushing him onto the bed, she crawled on her hands and knees, her mouth poised over him. She ran her tongue over her lips, laughing when he groaned. She licked him clean, covering every inch of skin, circling over and over again, even washing down over his low-slung sac.

Then she nibbled her way back up the shaft, fist and tongue working together to drive him ever closer to the edge. The round globes of his sac contracted. His breath grew short and desperate.

He tried to pull her up, but she slapped him away and continued to suck, lick and stroke.

He accepted her decision and flung his head back. Within seconds, his back arched and he groaned. His cock pulsed and flooded her mouth with sweet, sticky fluid. She held him between her lips until the pumping ceased and his cock started to soften. Only then did she sit up. She tested his seed in her mouth for a moment, finding the taste pleasant. She knew what she wanted to do. She swallowed then smiled with womanly satisfaction when the action caused Anthony to groan. His cock twitched with renewed life.

She wriggled up his body, her breasts tickled by the sprinkling of hair on his chest. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“You are a minx,” he replied. “You know by instinct what will drive a man wild.” Beneath her, his cock grew a little more as he studied her. “You have an invigorating effect on me. I believe in a moment or two I will be able to show you just how invigorating.” He grabbed her shoulders and rolled her over so he loomed above her. “I promise you I will never tire of you. Never want another woman.”

“What of your parties?” she asked. “Your entertainments for your friends.”

“Over,” he said. “I have you. I have no further need for such frivolity.”

“Good,” she replied, “because I will never share you.”

“You will never need to.” He spread her legs, hooking them over her elbows, then settled himself between them. His cock, now as hard as if he had not just come in her mouth, slid in on her slick juices.

Less than twenty-four hours had passed since she’d met him, but she knew as certainly as if she’d been his for years. “I love you,” she said, because nothing but love could feel this right, could make her feel a missing part of her had been found.

“I love you,” he whispered in reply, thrusting inward.

The position let him penetrate deep, deep inside her. Her control of their movement was limited, but she didn’t care. From the moment she’d met him, she’d known he was worthy of her trust. She would trust him to take her on this new journey.

He kept the pace slow, a long gentle slide in, followed by soft velvet friction as he pulled out again. Over and over, like the relentless wash of waves upon a shore. A slow claiming so she knew forever and always, she was his. He was hers.

As the heat between them built, she gave herself up to pleasure. She tightened her legs, trying to pull him in faster, but he reached up and untangled them. “Not yet. Be patient.”

She felt the buildup preceding her release, but though she twisted and arched, he held back just enough to deny her. Instead he kept up the rhythmic pace until it became its own hypnotic dance. The tension grew, every stroke coiling higher and tighter until she knew the release would be triumphant, world shaking, breaking down any vestige of barriers left between them.

Then he whispered, “Now.” His hips surged once, twice and together they exploded and spiraled into ecstasy.

Together they drifted back to earth, wrapped in each other’s arms, still joined, still one.

Susan lay in the sweet aftermath, drinking in the wonder of what twenty-four hours could bring.

As soon as he made the arrangements, they would marry. Let society wonder how they met. Let them speculate about the role of Anthony’s notorious gatherings. Let Estelle Milthorpe spread her malice if she dared. No one could spoil what she had found the night she’d placed herself at her lord’s table.

Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:

The Gardener’s Sins

Alysha Ellis

Excerpt

Chapter One

“Mary, I shouldn’t give this to you. It’s not right.”

Lady Mary Linden, third daughter of the Earl of Whitten, snatched the book of Ancient Greek poetry from her cousin Harry’s hand. “Rubbish. You’ve read it. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re a female!” Harry’s voice rose in offended outrage. “Some of these poems are…um…quite shocking.”

“You mean they’re sexually explicit,” Mary snapped.

“The poems are from the classical Greek period. They’re not meant for women. The female constitution is delicate,” Harry said. “Excessive stimulation is harmful.”

“You don’t really believe that nonsense you’re spouting.” Mary grinned at him. Her cousin knew her better than that. He knew she was hopelessly curious—about everything.

“A lot of people
do
believe it.” He ran a hand though his hair, dislodging a straight golden lock that flopped onto his forehead. “They also say women don’t like sex.”

“That’s probably not true either,” Mary argued. “If women were given the chance I know they would enjoy sex just as much as men do. We just never get to find out. Just like we never get to learn about History and Politics—and Ancient Greek poetry. How can I tell I won’t like something if I never get told anything about it?”

Her cousin shook his head. “I should never have started lending you any of my books. I knew no good would come of it.”

Mary ignored the last part of his statement. “I’m grateful for all the things I’ve learnt. I couldn’t have done it without your passing on your books to me.” She paced the floor, her steps long and fast, hardly befitting the elegant glide expected of a lady. She didn’t care, she was heartily sick of restrictions, infuriated by the list of things boys were actively encouraged to experience that were forbidden to girls.

“But this is different. This book has poems in it that talk about things you know nothing about.”

“Well once I read them, I will know, won’t I?” she reasoned.

“But that’s just it. I don’t think it’ll be good for you.”

“If I expire from hysterical over-stimulation I am sure no one would blame you.” She rested her hand on his arm. “You needn’t worry.”

His forehead remained wrinkled and his grey-blue eyes looked distant and disturbed. “The kind of relationship the poet describes. It’s…well, most people think it’s disgusting. And it is against the law in this country.” The furrow between his eyes deepened. “I don’t know how you came to know the book existed, or why you asked me for it.”

“I read about it in one of the other books you lent me.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “And once I read that it existed, who else would I ask about it but my wonderful cousin Harry? I knew if you had a copy you wouldn’t refuse to give it to me.”

“When have I ever refused you anything,” he sighed.

“Never,” she replied. “And I love you for it.”

“I don’t want to do anything that could cause trouble. Not after all your family has done for me.”

“Shh.” She put her hand over his mouth. “Don’t you dare start telling me how grateful you are. And don’t talk about
my
family
. It’s
our
family and always has been.”

Mary couldn’t remember a time when Harry hadn’t lived with them. His mother, her father’s sister, had died in childbirth and his father had gambled away his fortune, ignoring the needs of his infant son. Mary’s parents had taken Harry and raised him as their own. She’d grown up loving her gentle cousin.

“I
am
grateful,” he insisted. “Your father gave me a life I could never have had otherwise. But I am
not
his son. I may have a title but there is no money or property to go with it. I have to make my own way in the world.”

“You know Papa would never leave you unprovided for.”

Harry shifted from foot to foot and refused to meet her eyes. “He might change his mind if I failed to live up to his expectations.”

“You think Papa would cut you out of his will because he found out you were lending me salacious reading material?” A spurt of laughter escaped her. “Papa is not as hidebound as that, I can promise you.” Again she laughed and waggled the book at him. “But to appease you, I’ll take the book some place no one will find me.”

The worried look didn’t leave his eyes and he didn’t laugh with her as she’d expected. She reached up to kiss his cheek once more. “Silly. Nothing will go wrong, I promise you.”

Tucking the book under her arm, she strolled outside, leaving Harry standing still and silent in the hallway.

The sun shone warmly in a rare, summer-blue sky. She walked towards a shaded bench on the edge of the lawn and sat down. Three young men swept scythes from side to side, mowing the expanse of grass. They were shirtless, their backs glistening with sweat, muscles flexing as they bent and stretched. Their hypnotic rhythm kept her motionless and enthralled until one of them looked up and saw her then nudged the others. All three stopped and straightened.