Lord & Master (17 page)

My mouth fell open as I stepped to examine them. The machines created quite a racket. Mesmerized, I trailed my fingers along their buzzing enamel fronts. The laundry room jogged to the right after the last device.

When I reached this corner, my steps halted. A folding table came into view, with two chairs drawn up to it. Two poker hands formed fans on either side, one showing a full house and the other a pair of kings. An open wine bottle and two glasses added to the narrative. No coins or notes lay out, so I couldn’t say what the stakes had been.

Or perhaps I could.

A woman’s carnal groan cut through the noise of the laundry machinery. My experiences with Jake and Damien must have compromised my morals more than I realized. Rather than leave at once and refer the impropriety to the housekeeper, I peeked around the corner.

Two completely naked people writhed against yet another of the clothes-washing contraptions. One was a tall young man with nice legs and hindquarters—so probably a footman. The other I’d met before: the sharp-featured, interesting maid, Imogene.

“Leave that where it is,” she cried in her French accent.

She’d flung her arms above her head in abandon, her pretty breasts thus lifted toward the footman’s caressing mouth. Though he thrust his hips against her as if they were making love, I saw his cock wasn’t inside her. Instead, he rubbed its hardened length against her soft belly.

She ground her bottom cheeks into the machine as if she relished its vibrations.

“I want to fuck you,” the man complained. “Properly.”

“I won the hand,” she countered. “You don’t get to come this time.”

“You won all the hands. I’m going to get blue balls.”

She laughed and clasped his head. “Allow me to remove you from temptation.”

She pushed him down her body until he knelt. Irritation and arousal warred in his eyes as he gazed up at her. What would happen next became obvious when she slung one bare leg over his broad shoulder. The footman couldn’t have been too angry. His hands shifted admiringly over her.

“If you weren’t so pretty . . .” he growled at her.

“Pay up,” she ordered, pulling his face to her. “I promise to talk dirty to you in French when I get closer.”

His tongue extended, his lips puckering to cover her clitoris. I jerked back with my face blazing. What was wrong with me? Just because Jake invited me to observe his most private moments didn’t mean this couple had. Never mind they were naked in a communal laundry that didn’t have a door. I still hadn’t been given permission.

Leave now
, I ordered.

The moaning noises Imogene let out made me long for another glimpse. Did the footman have special skills? Techniques I ought to request from Damien? My husband had been very good at making love to me with his mouth, but he’d only done it once. Chances were he had more in his repertoire.

I clenched my hands, which were still in my evening gloves. Considering how Damien and I had parted, I’d be lucky if his
repertoire
continued to be any of my concern.

I crept away with that sobering thought. I didn’t let my breath sigh out until I was back in the corridor. Thankfully, no one else was there. I ran one finger around the overheated neck of my gown. I’d broken into a sweat while I played voyeur.

Serves you right
, I scolded.

I reminded myself I’d had reasons for coming here. First, I wished to know the whereabouts of my spouse. Second, as mistress of this estate, it behooved me to discover why our servants were unavailable.

Humor tugged my mouth unexpectedly. I’d solved that mystery for at least two of them.

By way of composing myself, I squared my shoulders and smoothed my skirts. Should I find the rest of our staff, grinning like a fool wouldn’t enhance my authority.

I continued down the tiled corridor past closed larder doors and the scullery. My heart jumped into my throat when a maid dashed across the passage some distance ahead of me, squealing in high-pitched delight. A male servant bounded after her a moment later, hampered from catching up by the fact that he was tearing off his shirt.

“You’re both in for it now,” he roared.

Both?
As in, he had more than one quarry?

I wondered if I dared proceed. Anarchy seemed to have taken over this part of my husband’s realm. Perhaps I should leave before anyone noticed me. I bit one finger in indecision. I thought the maid and her admirer had run into the kitchen. If they had, another stairway lay just beyond it, which might hasten my escape.

Cautious now, I edged toward the first of the kitchen’s two broad arches.

The scene I spied within glued my slippers to the floor. A second maid was tied to the broad butcher’s block by each of her wriggling limbs. She lay on her belly and was gagged with a ball and scarf arrangement. The butler—easily recognizable in his dignified dark suit—paddled her with a spatula. Though tears leaked from her eyes, they weren’t tears of misery. She raised her hips to the butler’s strokes, as if she couldn’t bear to miss their full effect. As each smack fell smartly onto her buttocks, her mewls of pleasure rang out as loudly as Imogene’s.

I had to smother my mewl behind my palm.

If Damien had been wielding that spatula, I’d have liked replacing the weeping maid.

My own thoughts scandalized me, though I couldn’t deny them. I ached with longing, my thighs gone sweaty and tremulous. It occurred to me I wouldn’t mind seeing Damien bound that way either.

Summery heat rolled through me at the notion. I couldn’t stay where I was. The shocks I’d received were overwhelming me. I hurried past the kitchen’s second arch, head down and praying I wouldn’t be recognized. I reached to open the door I believed accessed the stairwell.

When I tugged it toward me, stairs weren’t what met my eyes at all.

In my haste, I’d misjudged where I was going. This was the housekeeper’s room. And the housekeeper was in it.

Luck alone prevented me from opening the door beyond a handspan before I stopped. Luckier still, Sweets was too caught up in her own affairs to notice my arrival.

I’d never in my life seen a garment such as she wore. Comprised of buckled leather strips, it exposed more than it concealed. Her figure was very neat: not only slender but fit- looking. This was fortunate, since both her derriere and her breasts were bare. Her near nakedness seemed not to trouble her. Turned slightly away from me, she ran her hands down her sides as if she wanted to draw attention, as if she enjoyed caressing her own person.

Thigh-high stiletto boots stretched her long legs to towering heights.

Despite my astonishment, I experienced a twinge of envy. Sweets looked powerful in her strange attire, free of the insecurity and the shame that so often hobbled me.

I’d begun to ease the door shut when a second person strode into my field of view.

My stomach plummeted. The shadows in the room made it hard to tell, but the person resembled Jake. Tall and lean, he gathered the housekeeper in his arms, kissing her in such a thorough manner that the angle obscured his face. Heedless of her indecent state, Sweets melted and clung to him.

This was wrong. Jake shouldn’t be cheating on Damien. For that matter, the full out, hungry kiss felt like it betrayed me. Admittedly, the reaction was unwarranted.
I
had no claim on Damien’s lover. Nonetheless, no matter how unusual Damien and Jake’s personal arrangements were, fidelity—and loyalty—still mattered. They mattered to me, or why had I been trying to resist Damien’s suggestions?

The reckless part of my nature, which seemed to grow by the hour, wanted to rush inside and pummel him with a spatula.

Before I could, the man pushed back from his partner.

“You are hell on wheels in that rig,” he admired. “If you held the whip, you could convince me to have my hide tanned.”

My fingers nearly lost their grip on the worn brass knob. The kissing man wasn’t Jake. He was our head footman, Sawyer. Their builds and manner of moving were similar, but their voices were different. Their hair as well. Jake’s was dark; the footman’s threaded through with gray.

You’re an idiot
, I scolded.

A second later, I nearly leaped out of my own skin. Someone had touched my elbow. I spun to see who’d caught me peeping, too rattled to keep my hold on the slightly open door.

Jake caught it for me and silently shut it.

“What are you doing down here?” he hissed.

I began to splutter.

“Never mind,” he said, taking my arm firmly. “We can talk after we’re out of earshot.”

I’d missed the stairwell by one entrance. Jake hustled me into it and up half a flight, at which point he sat us down together on an uncarpeted tread. My knees were grateful. The rest of me wished I could have kept running.

The narrowness of the passage ensured our shoulders bumped.

“Explain,” he said as he crossed his arms.

“You explain,” I retorted. “You’re not a house servant. Why were you sneaking after me?”

“Regina alerted me that you were upset and wondering where Damien was.”

“Which I’ve a perfect right to do as his wife.”

Jake’s quiet laugh didn’t unruffled my feathers. “You’ve no business on the servant’s floor by yourself. Not tonight. Not when most of the staff don’t know you from Adam. Anyone could mistake your presence for willingness to play.”

“How was I to know tonight was their weekly orgy? No one—least of all my husband—saw fit to inform me!”

Once again I’d amused him. I knew my eyes flashed with anger, because he controlled his smile a bit. He wedged his shoulders more comfortably against the stairway wall. “He’s in my cottage, in case you’re wondering.”

“Damien is.”

“Is there another ‘he’ either of us are concerned with?”

His tone had gentled. I chose not to address the rhetorical question. “Is he all right?”

The stable master hitched one shoulder. “He’s in a mood, which I suppose he’s prone to. Damien has a unique mind. He interacts with others in his own fashion. I suspect—” He shifted on his bottom, looking more directly into my eyes. “I suspect he didn’t want to face you at dinner. He
wants
to respect your wishes but isn’t sure he can.”

“No one gets to have everything they want.”

“Damien doesn’t understand why someone would refuse what they could have, if it’s being offered on a platter.”

“‘Someone’ meaning me.”

I’d folded my arms like him. Jake stroked my tense forearm. “I know you love him. I saw it today in the attic. Your heart swam up in your eyes.”

My head jerked back. I’d feared he’d seen my feelings. I hadn’t thought he’d comment.

“You’re not wrong to feel that way,” he added. “He’s a good man. Pride makes him prickly. The people who get a chance to know him learn how fair he is. Brilliant too. His own engineers can barely keep up with him.”

This didn’t surprise me. More than luck must account for his accomplishments in business. I recalled what Damien said about Jake at our first dinner, that the stable master was better than his equal. “You idolize him like he does you.”

“You can call it that if you want. I think I see him as he is.”

“I didn’t mean he shouldn’t idolize you. Obviously, you know each other better than I do.” I flushed. They knew each other a
lot
better.

The corner of Jake’s mouth twitched. “He’s right about your honesty. It is a trait worth cherishing.”

“I’m certain you have many fine traits as well.”

The compliment sounded grudging, but I meant it. Even as Jake snorted, wistfulness touched his eyes. “I’ve seen the way he’s been since you arrived: energized and excited for the future. You make him happy. I couldn’t do that by myself.”

“That can’t be true. He’s so attached to you.”

“Attached but not at peace with the attachment.”

I stared at him. Did he truly believe this? He sounded like he did. Seeing my incredulity, Jake drew one finger around my cheek. Perhaps I shouldn’t have permitted it. His touch was tender enough to tighten my vocal chords. “No matter how different Damien is from the ordinary, I know he wishes he could fit in more easily. I can’t help him with that, but perhaps you can.”

“Because I’m a woman?”

“In part. His relationship with me, were it broadly known, would make him more of an oddity. Mainly, though, I think you can help because you understand what it is to be an outsider.”

I thought Jake understood Damien fine. “What are you saying? Exactly?”

“I’m saying I think I should leave Diogenes House.”

“
What?
”

“Hear me out,” he said at my astounded reaction. “You’ll never be at peace if I stay on the estate. Not because Damien is attracted to me, but because you are. So long as I’m here, Damien will keep pushing you to be intimate with me. He’s a dog with a bone that way. Then you’ll give in and feel bad about yourself. If I go, you’ll have a chance to build a more traditional marriage. A real chance, given how you feel about each other. Maybe Damien will miss me, but he’ll get over it.”

“Why should he get over it?” I blurted without thinking. Once the words were out, I warmed to my argument. Its unconventional nature didn’t matter to my tongue. “He knew you first. And he’s crazy about you. Why should he have to give up someone he cares about?”

“Why should you?” Jake asked softly.

“You’re not mine. Neither is Damien, really.”

“You’re wrong about that.” Jake’s gaze bore into mine a moment longer, after which he shook his head at some question within himself. “I can’t make you see what you deserve. You have to do that for yourself. In any case, my offer stands. Sleep on it, if you wish. I’ll make arrangements to depart tomorrow.”

He stood and helped me to my feet as well. “You can find your way back to your rooms?”

Dumbstruck, I nodded that I could.

“Very well. I bid you good night, Lady Call.”

I saw he expected me to depart. I didn’t want to. Our argument was hardly satisfactorily resolved. Despite my reluctance, I pressed my lips together and forced my feet to carry me up the steps. When I reached the turning at the landing, I looked back down.