Rachel Carrington (3 page)

Her heartbeat accelerated as she touched her clit ever so gently, just a slight press of the pad of her index finger, but enough to make her muscles twitch. She wondered if this Englishman she hoped to meet would be too much of a gentleman to eat pussy. God, she missed the feel of a tongue stroking her there, suckling her clit until she writhed in ecstasy upon the bed.

Carla wouldn’t deny that she loved oral sex, giving and receiving. She loved the feel of it, the taste of it, everything about it. Even Jenny thought she was a bit weird because Carla swallowed. But she liked the power it gave it, the feeling of sucking a man’s dick and knowing she could make him come. Tickling his balls and hearing his gasps of pleasure always drove her wild.

And the sweet abandon of having a man’s tongue settle between her thighs, licking at her juices and pressing so hard against her clit that the orgasm left her exhausted, well, that was just perfect.

Giddy with anticipation and the memories, she reached inside the drawer of the nightstand beside her bed, withdrawing her nightly companion, a silver-plated bullet she’d bought on the Internet for less than twenty dollars. Ever since it had arrived at her house in a discreet, brown envelope, it had rapidly become her favorite toy.

Clicking the switch on the battery pack, she smiled as the tiny, silver bullet whirred to life. The vibrations against her palm kicked up her anticipation and Carla slipped her hand beneath the sheets. Parting her legs, she ran the cold steel over the lips of her pussy. Quivering, she moaned and brought her knees up, pressing her feet flat against the mattress.

The bullet slipped deep into her slick valley and Carla jumped as the sensations raced down her spine.

She clenched her fingers around the gadget and brought it into direct contact with her clit. Her back bowed off the bed and she cried out at the first spark of electricity. Then, settling into a steady rhythm, she lay back, picturing a handsome Englishman’s warm, slick tongue taking the place of the bullet. God, it had been so long since she’d had sex!

She ground the sleek piece of silver into her clit and screamed as the orgasm ripped through her. Though jerking and bucking, she didn’t remove the toy and within seconds, she came again. Her muscles clenched as wave after wave of pleasure rippled over her.

Shifting her legs, she pushed the buzzing bullet deep into her pussy. The vibrating sensations climbed along the walls of her dripping channel and Carla began to squirm, lifting her hips to feel the pleasure even deeper. But the bullet wasn’t big enough for what she needed tonight.

Frustrated, she yanked it out, switched off the pack and tossed it aside before reaching for her second-in-command, a massive nine-inch dildo with four speeds. Rotating on the on button at the base of the fake dick, she settled for the high-powered pulse before shoving it into her sheath. Teeth gritted, she welcomed the thickness, the length, but it would never take the place of a solid, hard cock. For now, she was simply making do.

She scrambled to her knees and spread her legs wide, pumping the dildo in and out of her pussy with frantic moves. Her G-spot began to tingle and her back bowed.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, closing in on another orgasm. She fell forward onto her free hand, clutching the mattress while her hand continued to work the toy in and out of her slickness.

Before she could come, she pulled it out, gasping for breath. She tantalized her clit first before rubbing the vibrating cock over the lips of her pussy. Each charge made her moan with sheer ecstasy. She quickly dropped and rolled to her back and teased her anal opening with the tip of the dildo. Fully primed and wet, she crammed the toy back into her pussy, bucking with wild abandon.

The orgasm took her to another place, sweeping her out of control so that she thrashed upon the mattress, heels digging in and the muscles of her pussy gripping the dildo. Perspiration trickled between her breasts and dampened her forehead as she withdrew her toy. Her pussy still tingled and quivered.

Replete, but never satisfied, she placed the dildo underneath the pillow beside her.

“Ah, the joys of modern technology,” she murmured sleepily.

* * * * *

The oarsman slowed the boat alongside the bank, leaning forward to catch the wooden peg with his rope. “We’re here, ladies.”

Eyes glowing, Jenny leaped to the shore and extended her hand down to Carla. “It’s even more beautiful than I expected. Look, Carla! Can you just picture yourself here four centuries ago? I can see myself in the long dresses with the ornate fan and high upswept hair.”

Carla’s knees wobbled as she regained her land legs. “Yeah, well, I’ll just be glad to get indoors. You didn’t mention anything about a boat ride.”

“I know how much you hate the water. You probably would have backed out.” Jenny shrugged and headed off toward the path.

Carla didn’t move, her head tipped upward. “Hey, Jenny, did you see that?”

Jenny paused, tossing her friend a look over her shoulder. “See what?”

“There was a light in the turret.”

Jenny snorted her disbelief. “Nice try. Only the lower half of this castle is open to the public, Carla. I had to get special permission to come here after hours. The keeper is very protective of this place. There’s no one up there.”

The light winked again, like a candle blowing in the wind. Carla sucked in a breath and remained standing where she was, her feet rooted to the spot. In the shadows, just beyond the curtains, a dark figure moved. A hand swept across the window and the light was extinguished. A cold tingle skated down Carla’s spine.

“Will you come on? I don’t want to stand out here all night!” Jenny’s impatience captured Carla’s attention and she hurried to catch up with her friend.

“I shouldn’t be that long. It’s just going to be a short interview with the keeper and then we’ll have a look around.” Jenny’s excitement was contagious.

“I guess I’ll just wait for you.”

“In the library.” The keeper, a large, heavyset man with a gray beard and mustache, waddled out to greet them. His voice was gruff, laced with irritation and the inconvenience of having his evening disrupted. “You may wait in the library, Miss. Plenty of books in there for you to read. Just don’t touch anything else. You must be Miss Capland, then?”

Jenny bobbed her head excitedly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wane. I’ve been looking forward to this visit for quite some time.”

“We don’t get many reporters here. I hope you do right by Heath Castle.”

“I promise.” Jenny threw Carla a wink and a grin before following the big man further into the depths of the castle.

Left to her own devices, Carla realized that she had no idea where the library was. Her first inquisitive steps carried her down a long, narrow hallway lined with red brocade carpeting and paneled walls.

Candelabras lit the dim corridor and heavy wooden doors closed off rooms that were off-limits to the public. Her steps slow, Carla tried one doorknob after another until she found one that would open.

Expecting the library, the sight of the masculine bedroom surprised her. But her own insatiable curiosity overtook her sense of decorum and she advanced inside.

A four-poster bed with a majestically carved headboard dominated the center of the room. The wardrobe and accompanying nightstand were a rich maple wood and brought a smile to Carla’s face.

Toiletries lay neatly atop a commode. A razor strap, long-handled razor and another thick piece of leather that Carla couldn’t identify occupied the space as well. The scent of warm wood oil tickled her nostrils.

Curiosity drew her farther into the bedroom to investigate beyond the main entrance. Turning the glass knob on the wardrobe, she peered inside, surprised to see rows of clothing hanging neatly. Her fingers touched the material and she frowned. This wasn’t the clothing of a twenty-first century man. Removing one of the shirts from the clothes hanger, she studied the material, the make of the cloth. With ruffles on the sleeve and a low-cut neckline, the shirt was, without a doubt, of nineteenth-century style. It would appear that the keepers of the castle took authenticity very seriously.

“Miss.” A sharp voice, ladled with displeasure, caught Carla in the midst of her surveillance.

She whipped around, still holding the shirt. “Yes?”

A stern-looking woman with a severe bun and sensible shoes strode forward and snatched the shirt, tucking it safely back into position before closing the wardrobe door. “You don’t belong in here. My husband told you to wait in the library.”

Carla’s back stiffened. “Your husband failed to mention exactly where the library is located.”

The woman’s face didn’t soften. “Two doors down on the right. Your friend shouldn’t be too much longer. This room is off-limits.” She waited until Carla had walked out of the bedroom and then, she closed the door firmly.

Carla didn’t apologize or offer any thanks as she headed back down the hallway. Suddenly, this castle didn’t hold any interest to her. In fact, she couldn’t wait to leave it behind and return to New York. So much for a vacation.

* * * * *

“She’s here, Your Grace.” Nettie practically danced from foot to foot.

Sinclair didn’t need to be told who Nettie was talking about. He knew. He’d seen her. And the young soothsayer had been right. This woman wasn’t from their country. He wasn’t even sure she was from their world. He’d watched her, standing in his bedroom, touching his clothes and he’d felt her presence surrounding him. Her heart beat in time with his and that surprised him more than anything. Now that she had arrived, he caught her scent in the air and sensations danced along his skin.

“She doesn’t belong here.” His voice rang out harshly. “She will not fit in here.”

Some of Nettie’s excitement dimmed. “But you will not send her away.”

He wasn’t sure it was within his ability to send her anywhere. “What makes you think I can?”

“The young girl.” Nettie broke off uncertainly, but the expression on the Duke’s face bade her to continue. “She told me that you have the power to keep her here.”

Sinclair walked toward his housekeeper. “How? What power do I hold over her? And what is this power that you speak about so knowledgeably? It makes no sense to me.”

Nettie lowered her voice. “I do not know enough of the power myself, Your Grace. I only know what I heard. The young girl said that if you want more information you would have to come to her next time.

She would not return where she was not wanted.”

“Damnation.” Sinclair’s voice whipped like a lash in the darkness. “Tell me where this soothsayer lives. I must have more information now that this wench has arrived.” He stuffed his hands into his riding gloves and Nettie passed him the slip of paper bearing the young girl’s address. “If I do not return by the striking of the midnight hour, send Charles.”

“You do not trust the soothsayer, Your Grace?” Nettie’s query was tongue-in-cheek and didn’t draw the Duke’s pleasure.

“One of these days, Nettie, I am going to replace you.”

Nettie only grinned and waved him away. “Have a safe trip, Your Grace.”

Sinclair didn’t care about safety as much as he did knowledge. Now that he’d seen the young lass who’d arrived at Heath Castle, he needed more information. And while he spurred the young stallion down the dark road, he tried not to let hope take up residence within his soul.

* * * * *

With her legs tucked beneath her on the claw-footed settee, Carla opened the heavy volume of poems and tried to concentrate on the flowing words. But the long flight and the exhausting days at work quickly caught up with her and her eyelashes fluttered closed. Resting her head against her arms, she allowed sleep to overtake her, sliding into the darkness with a grateful sigh.

Vivid dreams hurtled her into another world, a world of escape, just as she’d wished. Images of long walks with a darkly handsome man brought a smile to her lips. She saw a cradle nestled in the corner of a large bedroom and heard the cooing sounds of an awakening infant.

“
Come see your daughter, Carla.
” The man’s voice was softly persuasive and she glided to his side, slipping her hand into his. She stared down into the face of an infant whose dark beauty was a combination of the man holding her and the woman at his side. Her daughter. Their daughter.

Carla murmured her approval and reached out to touch the baby’s soft cheek. The dream embraced her and her subconscious welcomed the distraction.

But deep down inside of her mind, a warning bell sounded.

* * * * *

Sinclair walked quietly to the woman’s side. He slid his hand over her face, her eyes and touched a finger to the petal softness of her ear. As a man, he could not help but admire her beauty, the graceful curve of her neck, the fullness of her lips, the smoothness of her skin. Her hair was dark, but with a touch of fire and her woman’s body, beneath the strange clothing she wore, was ripe with curves. He felt his own body tighten and his face exploded into a frown. It had been quite some time since his flesh had betrayed his wife’s memory, pushing the guilt he’d carried for so long to the farthest reaches of his mind.

He wasn’t so sure he liked the feeling. But if this was as the soothsayer had decreed, this woman was his destiny. And Sinclair always faced his destiny.

He scooped the woman into his arms and cradled her against his chest. She curled into him, one palm pressed over the beat of his heart. His cock went rigid and sweat broke out on his forehead.

With the slight body in his arms, Sinclair made his way back to his bedroom and placed her carefully atop the heavy quilt. He gently arranged her soft curves atop the coverlet and brushed the hair away from her face. His desire to touch her overrode his common sense and he cupped her breast gently, testing the fullness of its weight in his palm. His thumb drew a pattern around her nipple and through the thin fabric of the strange top she wore, he saw the peak harden. He could take her, plunge into her waiting softness before she could open her eyes. His cock would welcome the feel of her heat. It had been some time since he’d laid with a woman, at least such a woman as this. Already his member responded, aching between his legs.