Lord Regret's Price: A Jane Austen Space Opera, Book 3 (2 page)

“I despise it.” His lips felt so tight that he could barely speak. “Why would you even think I’d like such a thing?”

She tilted her head, her eyes wide with mock surprise that made him quiver with rage. “Why on earth would you assume it’s for you?”

He let out an ugly laugh. “Sure, sure. Your sheriff has decided he’d like to be hog-tied and whipped. He’s been taking lessons from me, right?”

“Sig…”

He flinched back from her outstretched hand. “What kind of man do you think I am? Perhaps you’d rather simplify your life and get rid of the man with twisted desires.”

She clamped a hand on each of his arms and gave him a shake. Considering she was a foot shorter and a thin slip of a woman, she managed to rock him on his bootheels. “Stop it this instant.
I
want this. I’ve been thinking about trying new things. You might have given me a few ideas in the beginning, but this is my need to address. If you’re not willing to help me, then I respect your wishes. Do you honestly think I’d ever force you to do something you didn’t enjoy? To endure pain or humiliation just because I wished it? What kind of woman do you think I am?”

He dragged his gaze away from the piercing stab her dark eyes managed to strike deep into his soul. The young woman of the shop looked at him with what could only be pity. He backed away, only to run into Gil. The sheriff dared to put his hands on him, steadying him in what was supposed to be a friendly squeeze. With Charlie in front of him and her lover at his back, he felt too much. Raw, ugly, tearing sensations bubbled up inside him. He wanted to slash and hack all the way to the ship and never see either of them again.

“I don’t want this,” he ground out.

“What?” she whispered soothingly, moving closer so her skirts pressed against his legs. Reaching up, she cupped his face. “What’s wrong? If you can’t tell me, I can’t fix it.”

“Trapped,” he rasped out. “I feel trapped. I don’t want this. It’s too much. Too…”

“Real. You feel exposed.”

He jerked away from her tenderness and shoved the other man out of his way. “I can’t be bound, Charlie. I can’t do this.” Striding toward the door, he hesitated a moment, looking back at her despite his urge to get away as quickly as possible.

So beautiful. Her face and figure sculpted by the finest artisan in the land, her dark eyes large and bright with her incomparable intelligence and spirit. Those eyes shimmered with aching emotion, making him feel even worse. His throat closed off, his damaged heart pounding despite the assistance of her technology that kept him alive.

“Sorry,” he finally forced out. Then he pushed his way out into the clamor. The red-hued sun burned in the sky, blinding him, but he’d never felt so lost and alone in the dark.

Charlotte wasn’t normally a woman who succumbed to tears. She’d faced the most powerful woman in the universe, faked her own assassination, and evaded capture and torture for years without ever feeling the need to cry.

Yet watching the door slam shut after Sig very nearly brought her to her knees.

“We should have discussed it before I tried to implement my plans.” Her voice sounded strange to her ears, thin and fragile and breathy. She cleared her throat and willed the hot flood gathering in her eyes to seep back below her calm exterior. “I should have prepared him better. I forgot how vulnerable he can be.”

Gilead Masters might have the biggest hands she’d ever seen, but as he pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair, she’d never known anyone with such gentleness. “It’ll be all right, Charlotte. You know how delicate the male ego can be.”

She couldn’t help but snort, as he’d intended. “As delicate as handblown glass, yes.” Burying her face against his chest, she let out a shaking sigh. “I’m sorry, Gil. I should have discussed it with you too. I just saw the sign and decided to act first and talk later. That was a mistake.”

He cleared his throat. “Perhaps now isn’t the best time to discuss further.”

Goodness, she’d completely forgotten that they were in public. A small shop to be sure, and no one in Zijin knew their names, but she certainly didn’t intend to indulge in exhibitionism any time soon. She stepped back, smoothing her face into the serene, controlled mask of the Duchess she’d often worn when she made the social rounds in Britannia. “We’ll take it.”

The young woman waiting behind the counter was equally composed, though Charlotte took note of the sparkle in her eyes. “An excellent choice, my lady. Is there anything else I might show you?”

She moved toward the end of the counter so Charlotte followed her. With such a shop, the woman probably knew more about the burgeoning feelings she’d been trying to ignore than she did herself.

She’d never been interested in controlling her bedmates. Until Sig. Had the need always been there inside her, a sleeping, latent thing just waiting for the right man to come along and wake the beast with a kiss? Because she often did feel like a beast. A hungry, starving thing that quite frankly was more than grateful to have two men to feast upon.

“Sometimes extreme hatred arises from fear.” The shopkeeper lifted out a flat tray that looked innocuous enough. Small rings of various sizes lay inside, though they were too large to be worn on a finger. “Fear has many faces, not always born from reluctance or even dread of pain or danger.” She met Charlotte’s gaze levelly. “But of enjoying it too much. That fear of being swept away on a tide of passion, of losing everything we once thought we knew. Forgetting who we are. Some people crave that oblivion even while they fear it.”

Charlotte tried to think of how to convey her understanding without betraying too much of their privacy. “It might be real fear, though, so I’m reluctant to cause more harm. I know he’s been hurt in the past and I would rather die than add my name to the list of women who’ve hurt him.”

“Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”

Surprised, she at first dismissed the woman’s illustration as nonsensical, thanks to the cultural divide, but she couldn’t stop thinking about her own changing needs. Had she always tended to be controlling in bed, or had that only come with Sig? Did that need arise naturally with him because it was already there in her? Did it grow only because it’d found fertile ground to explore those needs with Sig and now Gil?

“Many wrongfully assume that a need for pain or submission in some way arises from a dark, tortured past,” the shopkeeper said. “However, I’ve always wondered how else a person might discover the pleasure in that pain if they’d never been hurt before. It must be especially rare for a gentleman to
ask
a lady to hurt him, even in Britannia. Besides, who would ask to be hurt if they didn’t know they’d find pleasure in it at the same time?”

Charlotte’s breathing stilled, her mind running incredibly fast. She’d assumed that whatever Sig had endured before leaving Britannia had been horrible enough to drive him to kill, so she’d been reluctant to dip too deeply into those feelings. But how could Sig ever have known he might
enjoy
being bound, if he’d never been made helpless in the first place? She’d only discovered his enjoyment by accident, when she’d bound him to the sickbed while he flailed out of his mind with fever. He’d nearly died, but in the process of healing, she’d learned about his secret need. A need to which she’d not only adjusted, but had also come to relish.

Perhaps he isn’t afraid of me torturing him. But of liking it too much.

She’d assumed that Sig’s rising anxiety and frustration had to do with their nontraditional lovemaking because he hadn’t requested much beyond basic bondage since Gil had joined them. Perhaps Sig’s upset went even deeper. Perhaps his need was changing, and that frightened him. They’d all been growing weary of their confines on the ship. While luxurious,
Oblivion
was rather small for three independent adults. They’d certainly been forced to endure only each other’s company for much longer than ever before.

She couldn’t deny that she was frightened by the growing depths of her need for both men. She’d accidentally committed great wrongs with her scientific research. Her nanobots had been used without her permission or knowledge to completely ravage an entire race. She’d never forgive herself for such atrocities.

Now she was considering giving pain to a person she loved, simply because she wondered what the flail would feel like in her hand. The strike and recoil in her arm. What sounds he’d make and how she’d respond.

Guilt choked her, squeezing her throat and chest.

Gil moved to stand beside her, and she couldn’t meet his gaze.
What must he think of me? I never considered how he might react if he discovered I was whipping Sig. He must think me terribly depraved. As if forcing him to share my bed with another man wasn’t enough.

“What are these for?”

“They’re rings a man wears on his member,” the shopkeeper replied. “It helps increase his stamina by restricting blood flow.”

Charlotte risked a quick glance up to see his reaction. The tips of his ears were red, but he didn’t appear appalled. In fact, he couldn’t pull his gaze away from the tray, which melted her doubts away. “Is it painful?”

“I’ve been told most men enjoy the pressure and sensation of fullness. As his passion rises, the band tightens, restricting blood flow and delaying gratification.” Without his request, the shopkeeper demonstrated the clasp on the silver ring, showing how it could be removed if it became too tight. “We also have rings made with softer materials, like leather and rubber.”

“No,” he whispered in a low voice. Only slightly roughened, his voice strummed Charlotte’s spine because she recognized his tone.
Arousal.
“I like this silver one.” It was thicker than the others and slightly larger to accommodate a man of more-than-average size.

Which suited her sheriff perfectly.

The shopkeeper inclined her head, her small smile indicating a touch of appreciation. Charlie bit her lip to keep from saying, “You have no idea,” out loud.

“So we have a flail for the lady and a ring for the gentleman.” The shopkeeper slipped the silver ring into a box and laid it with the wrapped flail. “Might I make one more recommendation?”

“Please do so.” Charlotte took Gil’s hand and gave him a squeeze. Already her mind had raced ahead to trying out that ring as soon as they returned to the inn. She drew his arm against her breasts and whispered, “Should we get one for Sig?”

“After the way he reacted…I don’t know.” He flexed his arm against her, letting her revel in the delicious feel of his muscles. “He might want to pick out such a toy himself. Perhaps her recommendation can help.”

“This recommendation is actually for the lady.” The shopkeeper laid delicate silver chains out on the counter. “If you think a partner might be interested in receiving pain, it’s beneficial for you to have small pain too. It helps ground you in what you’re giving and, honestly, many dominants find it just as enjoyable as the submissive.”

Charlotte stretched out a finger and moved the chain around on the wood. She’d never thought of herself as dominant, but she supposed she did control the reins when it came to her bedchamber. It wasn’t something she’d necessarily thought about. She’d desired Gil, so she’d taken him to bed. He’d been more than obliging when she’d pushed him flat on his back that first time and ridden him hard. Sig had been different from the beginning, but even then, she hadn’t consciously decided to select a man who enjoyed being bound while she made love to him.

She’d been attracted to him before she’d learned that little tidbit. Perhaps it’d been titillation in the beginning, but now… She couldn’t imagine not giving him exactly what he wanted, because she wanted it just as much.

Small clamps at the ends of the chains gave her pause. She didn’t need an illustration to deduce that these metal pincers were designed to clasp even the most delicate of flesh.

Gil’s arm flexed against her. One of the things she loved most was when he used those big, calloused hands on her breasts, the more ungently the better.

The shopkeeper might have mistaken her silence for dread. “You can start out very softly with nary a pinch, or slowly increase the pressure with these screws. The chains are like jewelry, so light they won’t interfere with your natural movement, yet also beautiful to accessorize your body. Though I should warn you that loosening the clamps should be done slowly at first. The sensation of blood rushing back into the area can be quite intense.”

Charlotte could well imagine.
If I timed it so that I loosened the clamps right at the moment we were climaxing…
Shivering, she clamped his arm tighter to her. “I’ll take it, and I’d like to select a ring for the other gentleman as well. We should all have the chance to…accessorize…if he finds it interesting.”

After some discussion, she settled on a silver ring for Sig that wasn’t as thick as the other, but which had two smaller metal loops designed to cradle and lift his ballocks. He might not like it at all, but he also couldn’t claim offense that she’d done something for one man and not the other. With the packages tucked under her arm, it was all she could do not to drag Gil back to the inn as quickly as possible.

Chapter Two

When Gil Masters had accepted the assignment to act as a small-town sheriff and gain the suspected Lady Wyre’s assistance for Americus, he’d known almost from the beginning that the lady would own his heart. He’d been half in love with her before he’d even seen her, thanks to the incredible tales of her supposed escape from Britannia, despite her attempts to make it look like she’d been assassinated.