Saffina's Season (12 page)

Finally Jacquard gave me a fond look.

“For your first Season, you certainly cut a dash, ma’am. You mired us in scandal, exposed yourself in public and nearly seduced a prince. Not a bad tally.”

Once indoors, he put his arms around my waist and pulled me close. I wound my arms around his neck.

“So…you’re not angry?” I kept my voice low, even though the hall seemed quiet, with the servants back at their work.

“
Angry?
” He frowned. “I was desperate. We knew the prince had a new mistress. Some of us even guessed he planned to reveal her in a portrait.” His mouth twisted at the corner. “But he flatly refused to say who she was. Then I began to hear whispers. In the clubs, fellows laid bets. What I heard terrified me. You and the
regent
? You’d caught his eye at the opera. I’d seen him watch you dance—”

He looked away for a moment. When he looked back, his eyes were suspiciously bright. His voice grew husky.

“Your quick thinking once saved my life. How could I doubt you? The moment you turned to me in the ballroom and said it was a mistake, I believed you. Sadly, I missed the dénouement. At the footman’s note, I left at once. I looked back to warn you, but it was too crowded. Anyway, I’d no time. Luckily, by the time I got here, he was on the mend.”

So he’d known all along?
I swallowed, shaky. I’d stepped back from a terrifying brink. His anguish as he’d left the ballroom had not been for the foolishness of his wife but for the life of his son.

Trembling, I kissed his cheek.

With a strange, intense look he wound his hand into my hair and captured my mouth in a glorious, passionate kiss. Our lips and tongues mingled for the first time in days, and to my infinite joy, I tasted once more the happiness I’d thought lost for good.

* * * *

A week later, I was playing with Jasper under the fond gaze of his nursemaid when a footman brought word that Jacquard wanted me in his study. I walked in and froze.

He had a visitor.
That woman.

He turned to me with a smile.

“Ah, there you are. Here’s someone I’d like you to meet. She’s certainly keen to meet you.”

“She is?” My heart sank. I gave her a chilly glance.

Seeing this, Jacquard took my arm.

“She is our guest,” he said quietly. “Allow me to present Miss Sally Carson. She is an artist. She is also engaged to Mr. Martin Lucas. Miss Carson? My wife, the Countess of Endale. You have a message for her, I think.”

Miss Carson was simply dressed, her face clean of makeup. To my surprise, she gazed at me with tear-filled eyes.

“Oh, milady, indeed I have. Martin and I rent a studio in the Strand. I was supposed to take you there for Martin to paint you. When you didn’t turn up, he was distraught. He’d spent all our money getting ready for your commission, you see—new paints, new brushes, even new furniture. The tradesmen made threats. We used up our credit long ago. But you kept avoiding us. I told him fashionable ladies have their ways. You’d gone elsewhere. But he’d have none of it. He said you had a good heart, and there must be some reason.”

Jacquard took my arm. “Miss Carson called one morning while you were out. She told me about your plans for a picture and explained their predicament. I offered a small loan to tide them over.”

I saw them share a look. Before I could ask why, she seized my hand.

“Oh, milady, I wanted to thank you. You were as good as your word. Since you spoke up at the ball, Martin’s been swamped with commissions. It seems all the society ladies want a picture like yours. And thanks to you, they all think Martin painted it.” Her eyes glowed. “We’re so grateful to your ladyship. Good times are coming.”

Jacquard’s smile grew wider.

“Miss Carson and I have some news for you,” he murmured. “Miss Carson? Shall we tell her?”

Oh no.
I felt my stomach clench. Was she to be a fixture in our household? Even a duke had been known to keep his mistress and his wife in a
ménage a trois
.

Jacquard’s mouth twitched. “I invited Miss Carson to look over the nursery. If you’re agreeable, my love, I thought she might freshen it up with some new artwork. And while she’s here, she’s offered to do some pastel sketches of our son.”

She smiled eagerly. “I brought my portfolio, milady. I had some ideas for flower designs in your private sitting room and some baby animals for the nursery. Milady? Something upsets you?”

I whisked away a tear of joyful relief.

“Not at all, Miss Carson. Your ideas are lovely.” I glanced at Jacquard, my cheeks warm. “Forgive me. I’ve had a trying week.”

* * * *

Later, when we were alone, Jacquard had a light supper brought to our rooms, complete with champagne. I clambered onto his lap and we fed each other, kissing morsels into our mouths and finishing with sips of champagne that blended into loving kisses.

“So you knew all about my portrait?” I pouted, playful. “You could have said.”

“And spoil your surprise, when you took such delight in it? Besides—” He broke off, troubled. “I know how deep your loyalties lie. Miss Carson had told me your plan, but as the weeks passed, your sparkling eyes told me the rest. Early on it was clear to me that the man it was meant for had captured your heart. I decided to let things play out, but I dreaded the truth. I knew if you’d chosen another, I’d lost you forever.”

Did I see tears in his eyes? Or was it the glint of the candle? I never knew. Next second he’d buried his face in my neck.

“Deuce take it, Saffina. I’ve missed you.”

“Me too, my lord. And
this
.” I reached down to where his monster was already stirring. “Shall we have dessert now?” I whispered. “Or later?”

With a growl he rose to his feet, bearing me up with him. He strode into the bedchamber and we fell laughing onto the bed, and with many slaps and squeals, he took his dessert. Then with many eager licks and lusty, hungry kisses, I took mine.

At last, after he’d spanked me close to climax then rolled me over, he made me kneel up on the bed and plunged into me from behind with a shout. Finally he collapsed on top of me.

As I lay panting in his arms, a new thought struck me.

“Jacquard? I have a confession to make.”

“
What?
You leave it till now to tell me?” His eyes blazed. “You’ve found some new lover?”

I giggled, running a hand down his cheek. “Indeed I have, sir. And he’s as fine and upstanding a lover as any girl could wish. But I planned a surprise for his birthday, and now it’s hanging in Carlton House. Shall I commission another?”

His laughter rattled the silver.

“Have no fears about your sensational portrait, my sweet. The regent won’t have it long. I’ll win it off him before the year’s out. And anyway, why should you give me anything for my birthday? You’ve already given me more than I could ever have hoped. I have a wife who makes me smile, a son who makes me laugh—and more. Wait here.”

From his bureau he took out a bundle of letters, many sealed with elaborate crests.

“I meant to go through these with you tomorrow, but you may as well see them now.”

I stared at them in dismay. “What’s this? Writs?”

He tossed them onto the bed, threw himself back down next to me and took me in his arms. “Invitations, my love. Friends of the prince now think you’re his mistress…or will be soon. Those who dislike him think you’re a woman wronged and need their support. So now, for one reason or the other, they’re all beating a path to our door. We’re asked to house parties all over the country. It looks like we’re in for a busy summer.”

He dropped a loving kiss on my forehead.

“You’ve given me plenty for my birthday, and not just for one birthday, for all of them. Something I thought I’d never have again—a place in society. From now on, it looks like we’ve arrived.”

I giggled as I wrapped my hand firmly around his twitching tool. I felt a tiny thrill of power as it began to stir and swell against my hand until it was silky, hard and hot.

“We usually do arrive, sir,” I whispered, “when you get busy with
this
.” I gave it a friendly squeeze, stirred to feel its heat. “So who needs invitations?”

And soon our happy laughter died away. With kisses and soft, teasing touches and long, jutting thrusts, we arrived together more than once, until the night paled into the rosy dawn of a bright new day.

Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:

Suiting Saffina: Saffina’s Secrets

Flora Dain

Excerpt

Chapter One

“Tell me. What is the first rule of pleasure?”

The voice behind me was low in my ear, deep and disturbing, silky as chocolate over the pounding drumbeat of hooves and the continuous clatter of the jolting carriage. I whimpered as he hoisted my skirts, drawing them slowly up over my quivering ass.

All at once he plunged his fingers into my gaping slit to feel my secrets.

Say something. Anything.
My mind raced.
“When to—
Ah
.”

I arched, as alive to his touch as a straw in a flame. He slid his questing fingertips in deeper.

“
Say it.
”

“The first rule of pleasure, my lord—” I broke off, panting with need. I writhed against his hand, desperate for the money touch that would end my torment. “To know when to feast—and when to fast.”

I hauled in air and jerked in my bonds, clenching my teeth as he caressed me again. In my cunny, he took control with a flurry of sparks that tingled all over my skin.

He lowered his voice to a cruel purr. “So now you fast.”

“I’ve been fasting for days.” I writhed again. My protest faded into a low moan as he stirred his hand once more.

As ever, he held all the cards. I was strapped and helpless, my wrists looped to the padded ceiling of the silken luxury of his carriage, my arms stretched to aching. I bent low over the seat, pinned under the weight of his power and his prodding lust.

I felt his lips hot on my neck as his fingers lingered in my swollen, lustful folds, slick with moisture, oozing my shame.

He knew.
He well knew what I wanted. Now I felt the full weight of his cockstand—hard, hot and insistent—lodged between my ass cheeks like a flagpole. It shifted in rhythm with the jolting carriage, as eager to plunge up inside me as I was to receive it.

Unable to stop myself, I rubbed against it, clenching and riding it in a silent, heartfelt plea.
Please, please…

“Open. Wider.”

His grip tightened as his harsh command hissed in my ear, too low to startle the driver but enough to scare me. I’d been trussed like this for what seemed like hours as he explored my resistance, tested my reactions, primed my lust.

Now he fondled my wet, dripping slit yet again, pushing easily into my most private and forbidden place, sending shivers all through me. I felt him tease and explore, obscenely invading me, stoking my flames to a fire of arousal. His hand stayed firmly in place, shifting gently with the jolting of the wheels, teasing more moans and whimpers out of me in a constant anguished melody over the driving rhythm of the horses’ hooves. He turned his busy fingertips to my constant delight and my perpetual torment, as he made me arch, made me writhe and made me ache.

Hourly he edged me ever closer to bliss—never close enough.

I’m so close. Please, please…

“Is this what you want? Tell me. And
not in words.”

To stress the point, he clapped a hand over my mouth, ensuring my silence. The ferocity of his grip and the dark, sensual smell of his skin sent flurries of excitement straight to my groin.

Nostrils flaring, I drew in air. Between my legs heat flared as he swirled his fingertips slowly around my swollen, aching little bud.

I was burning up now, ablaze with frustration. Dare I
bite
him? Too risky. His own arousal was already poised on frenzy. A sudden lurch of the wheels might sink my teeth deeper than intended. His powerful grip might snap my neck in reflex.

Delicately I licked his hand, thrilling to his taste. Like a wicked kitten, I teased him with little darts of my tongue-tip and laved his palm in a slow, lascivious sweep, signaling my want as clearly as I could. Down below I clenched again, clutching at his hot, hard bulge in a lewd, sinuous thrust of my rump that left no room for doubt.

He knew perfectly well what I wanted. And what
he
wanted was simply to deny me, hour after hour, with every ounce of his superior strength, to prove his hardened discipline was always in control. To show how my girlish lust merely provoked him to make me earn more torment.

Along my back I felt the heat and ripple of his chest muscles through his clothes as he sensed my need, his own reaction a cruel reminder of his power and his will.

“Good. Your signals improve. Clench again, harder. Not too much. If I mess my breeches, you’ll be sorry.”

I was sorry already, sorrier than he knew. I did it, moaning again as he grazed his fingertip over my swollen, pebble-hard clit, nudging me ever closer to the climax he’d denied me for hours. Now his need fueled mine as I clutched him with my ass. Every clench edged me closer to release, each clasp of my aching muscles reminding me vividly just how much he’d denied me, how good it would feel when I finally came…

I was so, so close…

With a deliberate sweep of his fingers, he pinched my aching little place and took his other hand away from my mouth. I jerked against my bonds, wracked now with hot, burning need. I shrieked out loud.
Yes, yes—nearly there…

“Again, again. For pity’s sake…”
Just once more.
Just one more touch would tip me over the edge and grant the release he’d refused me since Dover.

But cruelly he kept his hand away. Once more I was left suspended in an agony of fiery arousal. Worse, his dark chuckle, the light touch of his lips on my rear and the rattle of the harness outside warned me our journey—unlike me—was coming to an end. Our cushioned privacy would soon be over.