Pursued By The Viscount (9 page)

“Lucien—Brooketon would not believe it if I wrote such a letter.” Rachel spoke more confidently than she felt.

She and Lucien had parted on good terms last night, but that was no reason to think he would not believe she might have had second thoughts today and decided to put an end to the affair. She had already told Lucien she had decided not to accept his offer of help regarding the return of her letters and refused to tell him the name of her blackmailer. Even knowing both these things, Lucien would have no way of knowing the two were connected with her bringing an end to their friendship.

“I believe he will.” Her tormentor had obviously seen the doubt in her expression.

Difficult to believe that a short time ago, she had been feeling so happy. Full of anticipation for this evening, and that
suitable amusement
Lucien had planned for her.

Gone now.

All gone.

Lucien scowled as he sat behind his desk and read Rachel’s letter for the fifth time in as many minutes. It was a very brief letter comprised of only two sentences.
 

Yesterday evening was a mistake. We will not meet in private again.

His name, Brooketon, was written at the top of the page, and she had signed it formally at the bottom as Lady Rachel Shaw.
 

Lucien appreciated that everyone was entitled to change their mind or opinion. He had done so himself where Rachel was concerned, and no longer believed her to be a frivolous flirt. But she had seemed so happy when they parted last night, eager for the two of them to meet again this evening.

What could have happened to change her mind?

Had she, with hindsight, genuinely regretted their intimacy?

Or had something, or someone, changed her mind for her…?

He looked up as a knock sounded on his study door and Stephens, his butler, entered to cross the room and stand stiffly in front of Lucien’s desk.

“Another letter has been delivered by hand, my lord.”

Lucien took the letter from the silver tray, disappointed when he failed to recognize the handwriting on the front of it. He had hoped Rachel had changed her mind yet again.

There was no seal on the letter either, only the single sheet of cheap paper folded in on itself, and his name written on the front.

“Thank you, Stephens.” He waited until the butler had left the room before unfolding the sheet of paper, narrowing his eyes as he saw the signature of the Walkers’ butler at the bottom of the page.

“Her ladyship is not receiving visitors today,” Rachel’s butler informed Lucien when Lucien stood on her doorstep minutes later.

Lucien’s mouth thinned. “Nevertheless, you will give her my card.” He had come prepared for an occurrence such as this, carefully placing the card facedown on the tray, where he had written his brief message. “I will wait outside for Lady Shaw’s response.” He was in no mood to be shut in the confines of the entrance hall of Rachel’s home and preferred to do his pacing outside in the brisk October air.

He did not have to wait long for Rachel’s answer. The butler opened the door again a minute or so later before showing him to the same salon as yesterday.

Rachel arrived a few minutes later, brown eyes appearing huge in the pallor of her face. The pale gold color of her silk gown gave her shoulders and throat a rich and creamy appearance. “You wished to speak with me, my lord?” She was obviously ill at ease as she crossed the room to stand in front of the window. The sun shining in behind her turned her hair the color of spun gold, at the same time making it more difficult for Lucien to read the expression on her face.

But he had seen enough to know she had read the name he had written on the back of his calling card. “Sir Nigel Stanforth.” It was a statement and not a question.

Rachel swallowed her feelings of panic, unsure of how much Lucien knew. “He is the nephew of the Prime Minister’s close friend the Duke of Banbury, is he not?”

Piercing blue eyes narrowed to steely slits. “He is also your blackmailer.”

“I barely know the gentleman,” she dismissed, while inwardly she trembled and quaked at Lucien knowing so much.

How
did he know was the question she asked herself. Was it possible Stanforth had visited Lucien after leaving here this morning? That he had regaled the other man with tales of her scandalous behavior and used her letters to him as proof?

It had hurt her deeply to write that letter to Lucien earlier, in which she had ended their friendship. But she had done it anyway, knowing she had no choice. That Stanforth was giving her no other choice. Once the deed was done, she had retired to her bedchamber with a sick headache.

The last thing she had expected was that Lucien would come to Shaw House and demand to see her.

Or that he would somehow know the name of her blackmailer…

“That is a lie, Rachel, and I do not like to be lied to,” he told her coldly.

“I—”

“Or to be taken for a fool,” he continued.

“I would never—”

“You did. You still are,” he added disgustedly. “I had believed we parted as friends last night. We had arrangements to meet again this evening.”

“I explained in my letter why that is no longer possible—”

“You explained nothing.” Brooketon was suddenly standing much too close to her. “Has Stanforth been here?” He sniffed the air. “I seem to detect the unpleasant stench of his cologne.”

Rachel had instructed Alder to open the windows and air the room after Stanforth’s departure, but it had obviously not succeeded in dispelling it completely. “Of course not. Why on earth would you even think such a— Lucien!” The crying out of his name was half-surprise half-protest as he gathered her up into his arms. “What on earth are you doing?” she said vehemently as he sat on the sofa with her still held securely in his tight embrace.

“Did Shaw ever spank your bottom?” he bit out between gritted teeth.

“He preferred to use his fists.”

“Good.”

“Good? But—”

“Understand this is not physical abuse, and it gives me no satisfaction whatsoever.”

“Wh—
Lucien!
” His name was almost a screech as he turned her and then placed her so that she was lying across his thighs. “What on earth are you doing?” She fought to break free of Lucien’s restraining hand in the middle of her back and his arm across the backs of her thighs.

“I detest lies.” He landed a sharp slap to her gown-covered bottom. “Say it, Rachel. Lucien detests lies, and I will not lie to him again.”

“You are behaving outrageously, my lord—”

“I am going to continue spanking your bottom until you repeat what I have just said,” he assured her as he landed another slap to her covered bottom. And then another. And another.

As he had stated, Lucien’s slaps were not hard enough to physically hurt her. No, it was Rachel’s dignity which suffered. To be placed over this man’s knee and spanked like a naughty child was surely the height of humiliation.

Except…

The longer she remained silent and Lucien continued to spank her, the more her response turned from indignation to squirms of pleasure. Her nipples were still sensitive from Lucien’s attentions yesterday, and the harder they became, the more they abraded and rubbed against her chemise. That tiny nubbin between her thighs that he had played with and pleasured had also become erect, and it throbbed with the landing of each blow to her bottom.

“Ready to concede yet, pet?”

She remained stubbornly silent as the deepness of Lucien’s voice added to her pleasure, sending quivers of awareness down the length of her spine.

“Obviously not,” Lucien drawled, an edge of humor to his voice as he threw up the back of her gown and administered the next smack to a bottom covered only by her drawers.

If Rachel had shown even the slightest aversion or fear, then he would not have commenced spanking her. Lucien was only too aware of the past brutality of her husband. He had made sure his blows were not hard enough to actually hurt Rachel. Her initial squirms, and now the aroma of her arousal assaulting his senses, assured him that she was enjoying this love play.

“Are you wet?” he prompted gruffly.

“No—”

“Another lie,” Lucien tutted as his fingers delved into the slit of her drawers to seek out the moistness between her nether lips. “Dear, dear, pet, I shall begin to think you like being spanked.”

“I am not your pet!”

Lucien noted that she did not deny a liking for being spanked. “Oh, but you are…pet. Mine to stroke.” His actions suited his words as his fingers spread that moisture between her thighs. “Mine to pleasure.” His fingers now caressed the hardened nubbin hidden amongst her curls. “Do not ever doubt it.” Two of his fingers entered her channel while a third pressed and stimulated the erect throb above. “Would you like release now, pet?” Once again, he used the name deliberately.

“Yes! No! Yes…” She groaned as she met the thrusts of the fingers filling her.

“Will you lie to me again?” He pulled his fingers out at the same time as his other hand landed firmly on the cheeks of her bottom.

“Never.” She shuddered.

“Sure?” He thrust his fingers back in and landed another firm smack to those quivering globes.

“Yes
…” Her voice rose as he thrust back into the tightness of her channel, increasing the pressure and speed of that third finger stimulating her clitoris as he landed smack after smack on the heated cheeks of her bottom.

Lucien felt her channel contract about his thrusting fingers, the erect nubbin swell and throb in rhythm with those contractions, before Rachel screamed loudly as she was thrown into the maelstrom of her release.

Chapter 9

“Did you like that, pet?” Lucien prompted indulgently as he sat back on the sofa, holding Rachel in his arms, her head resting against his shoulder, her gown once again covering her from neck to ankles.

“Yes.”

Truth. “Would you like me to do it again, at some later date?”

“Yes.”

Truth. “Do you accept that there was no intention on my part to cause you pain, only give you pleasure?”

“Oh yes.” She trembled in his arms.

Truth. “Has Stanforth been here today?”

Her shudder this time was one of revulsion rather than remembered pleasure. “Yes.”

Lucien’s mouth thinned. “And?”

“He demanded I not see you again, or he would make public my letters to him. He stood over me as I wrote that letter to you.” Her trembling intensified.

“Did he, by God?” Lucien bit out grimly, deciding then and there that he would pay Stanforth a visit at his earliest convenience. Which would be the moment he left Rachel.

She sniffled as she gave a nod. “He says I am undeserving of happiness when he has none.”

Anger welled up inside Lucien. But it was a need for physical retribution toward Stanforth he intended keeping well away from a woman who had already known too much of it. “Do I make you happy, pet?” he prompted indulgently instead.

“Oh yes.” Rachel wondered how he could doubt it when she lay replete in his arms.
She
was replete. Lucien had once again forgone his own pleasure in favor of ensuring hers. “Is there a way in which I might make you happy too?” In such a short time, she had come to trust this man implicitly, to know that he would never hurt her. That he only wished to give her pleasure. A pleasure she wished to reciprocate.

“It is not important—”

“It is important to me.” She sat up to look at him. “Please, Lucien. If you will guide me, instruct me, I should like to reciprocate.”

He gave a groan, blue eyes dark beneath hooded lids, a flush high on the sharpness of his cheekbones. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” Rachel hated being so inexperienced she had no idea how to give this man pleasure when he had given her so much of it.

Lucien studied her face for several long seconds before nodding. “Take off your gloves so that I might feel flesh against flesh.”

She suited her actions to Lucien’s instructions.

“Now slide down to the floor and kneel between my parted legs.”

She saw the advantage of that immediately, her face now on a level with the arousal tenting Lucien’s pantaloons.
 

“Unfasten them and fold down the flap.”

The buttons proved awkward for the trembling of Rachel’s fingers but eventually she had them all unfastened and was able to turn down the flap of his trousers.

Which was when she faltered a little, sitting back on her heels to stare as Lucien’s cock jutted from the opening, completely unfettered by any undergarments.

It was magnificent.

So swollen and thick, Rachel was sure her fingers would not meet about its girth, and so long it reached almost to his navel. Engorged veins were visible along its length, the skin pulled back from the mushroom top, revealing the slickness of moisture coating that purple head.

She acted on instinct alone as she lifted up on her knees to bend forward and lap up some of that moisture. Her instinct was the correct one, as Lucien gave a low groan and thrust his hips into the stroking of her tongue across that sensitive head.