Temptress in Training (27 page)

Indeed, but getting by was hardly what he wished for such loyal retainers. No, the Wimpoles were more like family. As much as any of the family he had left, at least. They deserved better.

“You've certainly done a far better job of tending to things around here than I have, Wimpole,” Lindley acknowledged. “I'm sorry to have neglected you.”

“You've had other responsibilities, sir. And now it seems you've taken on some others, eh? That pretty little miss is awfully lucky you found her.”

The man had a suspicious sparkle to his eye and just the hint of insinuation in his voice. Yes, of course the man must be curious. Who wouldn't be, a gentleman showing up in the middle of the night to a home he hadn't visited in three years in the company of a beautiful young woman he claimed had been the victim of a kidnapping? Only a fool would not expect to answer a few questions.

“Miss D'Archaud has been the victim of unhappy circumstance, and I am only too glad to have made myself useful to her,” Lindley said diplomatically. “Fortunately, I was able to remove her from the unhappy circumstance before she was very ill treated.”

“Yes, how fortunate. Pity, though, you could not have made it the additional hour to her cousin's home, milord.”

“Hour and a half, at least,” Lindley corrected just a bit too quickly.

As if it made a difference. Clearly Wimpole knew as well as he that Hartwood was not very far. Why had he not simply gone on there? Why had he brought an unaccompanied lady to his family home like this? It was already such an ungodly hour, what were another few miles if it meant protecting Miss D'Archaud's invented honor?

And damn it, but now that he'd made the girl respectable gentry, how was he supposed to explain spending the rest of the night energetically making himself additionally useful to her up in her bed?

He wasn't, of course.

“Miss D'Archaud may not be entirely out of danger yet, Wimpole,” Lindley explained. “I did not feel the road to her cousin's home would be safe for us at this hour. Haven Abbey was a much better choice given the circumstance.”

“Of course, milord,” Wimpole said with that still-annoying little smirk. “Would you have me dispatch word to her cousin, or would you rather we wait until you can be sure all is safe?”

“Let's wait, most definitely,” Lindley replied.

“As you wish, milord.”

It did seem as though the man was
milording
him more than was absolutely necessary, but Lindley decided he was far too exhausted to bother with further explanation. Much better just to say good night and be done with it. Surely by morning he would be in a better frame of mind for explaining Sophie to his hired man.

“There's no need for you to lose any further sleep on my account, Wimpole,” Lindley said. “Why not head back to your bed? I think I'll visit the brandy decanter for a few moments before taking myself up to sleep.”

“You're certain there's nothing more you need, sir?”

“No, Wimpole, I'll be fine.”

“I see. Well, the missus said we ought to put you in the green room, sir.”

Yes, that made sense. He'd rather taken that as his room over the years. He wondered how he was going to tactfully ask which room Sophie had been placed in.

“I believe Miss D'Archaud will be in the rose room,” Wimpole volunteered.

Lindley was most grateful. “Fine. Good. She should be very comfortable there.”

The old man nodded, bowed slightly, and turned to go. He paused at the door.

“It's good to have you back, sir.”

“It's good to be back, Wimpole.”

With that, his man actually smiled, then politely left Lindley alone. The huge house was deathly quiet. And dark, as well. The single taper Lindley had kept to find his way hardly did the job. Odd how a familiar place such as Haven Abbey could take on such an alien appearance simply because of the dark.

He made good on his promise to visit the brandy and downed a few swallows before heading up the broad staircase. The darkness was heavy, and every sound made him jump inwardly. His taper flickered, sending eerie shadows dancing across the walls and ceiling. He didn't realize he was doing it, but he must have been clutching the stair rail. It gave him a splinter and he swore.

Faces at the top of the staircase became visible in the candlelight. His face. And Marie's. He'd forgotten their portraits hung here, along with several other Durmonds. Strange that these portraits could be all that was left of them. The silence and chilling darkness added to the strangeness of it all.

He should not have come back here. It was still too painful. He should have found somewhere else to take Sophie.

But where? He believed Sophie's claim that she'd never been close to Dashford. Would the man have eagerly welcomed them at Hartwood, in the middle of the night? He couldn't know. But clearly they would not be safe on the road to London, not while Fitzgelder was on his way to collect the damn locket. No, for Sophie's sake he'd done the only safe thing he could do. He'd just have to be man enough to walk past these portraits and ignore the blasted sensation of his soul being ripped from inside him all over again.

He wondered if he'd be man enough to walk past Sophie's room, as well.

Damn it, he needed her. He needed to be certain she was well, that she was safe and comfortable here. He needed the warmth of a living body tonight. He needed it to be hers.

The rose room.
He stood at the door and listened, hoping Mrs. Wimpole was long gone and Sophie was alone. All he heard was the emptiness all around him and the blood pounding in his own veins.

Almost silently, he knocked. Then held his breath to wait. Finally, a sound from inside let him know he'd been heard. He breathed a sigh of relief as if the simple act of rousing Sophie would save him from the many ghosts that roamed these halls.

 

S
HE KNEW IT WAS
L
INDLEY WHEN THE SLIGHT RAP
came at her door. It had seemed ages since Mrs. W got the fire in the grate, helped her undress, then left her to sleep. She'd begun to believe Lindley would not come to her.

Of course, until she let him in she would really not know if he had merely come to bid her good night or if he had more interesting things on his mind. She tossed the covers back and dashed for the door. She was somewhat out of breath when she flung it open to find him there, his hair damp and tousled, his coat thrown over his arm, and his eyes dark with midnight and desire.

“I take it you were not sleeping?” he said quietly.

“No, I was waiting…er, to fall asleep, I mean. Waiting to fall asleep.”

“Then I'm glad I did not wake you. May I come in?”

Oh, dear heavens, yes!
“Very well, I suppose so, if you like.”

Apparently he did like. He pushed the door open and stalked into the room. His presence seemed to fill the place up, where it had felt cavernous and empty before.

“You're not wearing anything from your personal collection, my dear,” he said when she had shut the door and they were alone.

The room was dim, lit only by the flickering candle he held and the shuttered lamp she had left burning on the bed stand. Still, she could read the hunger in his eyes and the heat in his expression as he let his gaze roam over her. There was no point in feeling self-conscious. She would never tire of being the object of his attentions.

She did wish, however, she could forget about that dratted Marie person. It was embarrassingly painful to admit how jealous she was. Lindley might want her now, but down deep she knew she was just a poor substitute for what he really wanted. She could never replace what he'd lost.

She could, however, take advantage of the situation now.

“I wasn't sure you'd come, my lord,” she said. “To see me, that is. Come to see me, I mean.”

“Of course.”

“But as you are here…perhaps you might look at something for me.”

He smiled at her. “Oh, most definitely, Miss Darshaw. I will most definitely look at something for you.”

“Er, the window, sir,” Sophie said, thinking of something quickly.

“You need me to look out the window?” he asked.

“No, that is, I need you to help me shut it. It's open a bit, see? I'm afraid I might get cold in the night.”

“Ah, we don't want you cold in the night, do we?” he said.

There was a sliver of moonlight trailing in through the window, and now that they stood there in it, she could see his face plainly. He was smiling, and he didn't for one minute believe she needed his help with the window.
Good.
She needed him for something far more important.

“So, my dear Miss Darshaw, what shall we do to ensure you stay adequately warm and comfortable all night long?”

He was standing very near her, and she moved even closer.

“You have some suggestions, my lord?”

“Indeed, I do,” he replied, still with that knee-weakening smile.

But just when she thought he might pull her into his arms, he stepped away. For some inexplicable reason, he walked away from her. Worse, he wasn't even moving toward the bed. Instead, his eye seemed to be on the bureau across the room.

“What you need is some more appropriate clothing.”

What?
She was ready to throw herself at his feet, and he was concerned with appropriate clothing? Why on earth had he come to her if he was not interested in warming her himself? If she didn't want him so very badly just now, she was sure she would be quite infuriated with him.

“I was hoping to warm myself with something a bit more, er,
in
appropriate.”

“Then I'm certain we shall find just the thing. In here.”

He grabbed her pack where she had left it on the bureau. Ah, now he was moving in the right direction. He tossed the pack onto the bed, pulling it open to investigate the contents beside the flickering taper.

Her knees were still weak, but this time she was the one smiling. He did want her.

“Let's see, this one has proven its worth,” he said, taking out the pink silk knitted article, then he set it aside to extract the white gauzy gown in miniature proportions. “And of course there's this.”

Yet he set that one aside, as well, and kept looking. What did he expect to find? Oh, please not the hood with the rabbit ears. She really did not find that item alluring at all. Although, perhaps Lindley had some ideas for it she had not thought of…No, he set it aside with a roll of his eyes. But what else was he looking for?

“Oh, now this has definite merit,” he said at last.

He'd gotten to the very bottom of her pack. What had he found? She wasn't sure she recalled any other clothing she'd been working on for Madame, and she doubted the strapping device was to his liking. She frowned, trying to recall what else he might discover when he pulled out the white satin cords.

Ah, yes. She'd forgotten about those. Madame had given her strict instruction—they were to be soft, tied with a tight loop at one end and a loop something very like a noose at the other, and made in two pairs. It was not made to slip around the neck, however, but over the hands and feet, one pair for each. Madame had been rather sketchy regarding the purpose of these articles, and Sophie did not ask.

“I have no idea what Madame intends for those,” she said.

Lindley seemed perplexed. “Hmm, yes…what would they be used for?”

“Well, she told me one pair should be made to slip around the wrists while the other is for the, er, ankles.”

He studied the cords as if trying to determine what possible use Madame might have had in mind. Odd, considering Sophie had rather expected Lindley to know much more about this sort of thing than she did. Well, perhaps it was a good sign that Madame still kept some secrets from him. Perhaps that meant he had not been so very involved with activities at the brothel.

“Let's see,” he began, seating her on the bed and taking up her hands to try the noose ends of the smaller cords to see if they fit. “Sit here, my dear. Now, perhaps if we try this…”

Gently he tightened the soft cord around her wrists. Indeed, she rather enjoyed the feel of his skin against hers, but she could not imagine what this little length of cord could possibly do regarding pleasurable intimacies.

Before she could voice her confusion, though, Lindley swooped up one free end of the cord and looped it around one of the bedposts. She cried out, startled, but he quickly grabbed up the other, reached past her, and looped that one on the other bedpost. The surprise of it all knocked her over. Next thing she knew, she was lying on the bed, her arms spread wide and held in place by the cords. As she struggled the nooses tightened on her wrists. She felt helpless.

Lindley was smiling over her.

“The others for your ankles would be used the same way, my dear,” he said. “Then I would be free to do as I saw fit, and you could do little but lie here and enjoy.”

She wasn't sure she liked the sound of that.

“And what if I don't enjoy, sir?”

“Then clearly I am doing it wrong.”

He leaned in at that point and kissed her neck, in the soft, vulnerable spot just where he would have found her pulse beating furiously. Ah, so he had lied to her. He
did
know what these cords were for. And yes, she likely
would
enjoy whatever he decided to do to her while she was helplessly bound this way.

She supposed she did not have to let him know she enjoyed it, though. Tricking her this way was not fair play. She would not let him know he had won so easily. Yes, she could certainly give him a bit of his own. Such a skill might come in handy in her future, as a matter of fact.

“So when, exactly, am I supposed to begin enjoying?” she asked.

The kisses stopped.

“I see you intend to be difficult,” he said, tugging off his cravat. “You know what we do with difficult children.”

“Children, sir? Surely you don't do any of this with children!”

He sat back on his heels, kneeling beside her and frowning.

“Honestly, Sophie. You wanted to know what the cords were for, so I am showing you. Won't you play along?”

“Tied up this way I hardly have anything to play with, my lord.”

Now he smiled again. “Ah, but I do, my dear. Yes, I most certainly do.”

At that he leaned over her again and played with the edge of her shift, pushing it down low over her bosom, teasing her with his touch. Repeatedly his fingers brushed her nipples, yet they never lingered. She squirmed. It would be difficult to pretend for very long that she did not enjoy this game.

She gave what she hoped sounded like a bored sigh. “Seems such a shame that all I can do is lie here and let you do all the work.”

He didn't even pause a moment as his kisses and teasing continued. “Lucky for me this is work I enjoy.”

Indeed, she enjoyed it very much, too. A sigh escaped her that was anything but bored. Well, if he was content to keep her passive and still, she supposed she would not argue. Not yet, anyway.

His hands glided over her, traveling down to her thighs. She felt her shift sliding up as his fingertips tickled against the sensitive places inside her legs and up over her belly. He carefully avoided any areas that would send her over the edge into sheer delight, but he certainly brought her close. She struggled to be still, not to pull against the bindings.

“Will you be still, my dear, or must I bind your feet, as well?”

“No, I'll be still. It's just that when you touch me there…”

“Here?”

“Yes! Yes, that's the spot. I'm afraid I rather lose control.”

“Good.”

Now he paused his caresses long enough to pull off his shirt. Once again the man's solid, muscular body took her breath away. Oh, but she wished she could touch it, touch him, and feel the warmth and power beneath his skin. She writhed with agonized pleasure when his hands went back to stroking her thighs.

“You aren't being very still.”

“You aren't making it especially easy for me to keep still.”

“Then how about if I do this?”

His hands clamped over her legs, just below her knees. Before she could ask what he was about, he spread her legs apart and brought his face in close to kiss her—down there. She would have most certainly wiggled more than she did if he had not held her so tightly, keeping her from sliding away from him as the first wave of pleasure rocked her. He was lapping at her sensitive center and she was nearly undone immediately.

She thought she might have made some sound, some groan of bliss, but she could not be certain. All she knew was that in such a very short time he had reduced her to a nearly senseless mass of jelly, helpless in his control. And there was nothing she could do for him in return.

Unless, of course, she got out of these frustrating cords.

“Please…you have to stop!” she panted.

He did.

“Undo the cords, please. Quickly!”

He did that, too.

“What is it, Sophie?” he asked, sounding dreadfully concerned.

She started rubbing her wrists as if they hurt. Then she suddenly became aware of the state of her shift. Her bosoms were hanging out at the top and it was pulled up high on her belly to reveal her bottom portions. She quickly moved to cover herself.

“No! Don't look at me like this!”

“What is it? What is wrong?” he asked.

“Turn around; don't look at me, my lord.”

He did as she asked, clearly confused by her sudden change in attitude. She was rather proud of herself, actually. He may have had to tie her up to control her body, but she was learning just exactly how much control she could wield over him simply by speaking a word or two.

He had his back to her, still demanding to know if she was hurt or what he could do to help her. She smiled and pulled the cords off her wrists, widening the little nooses just a bit.

“Give me your hands,” she asked, keeping just a hint of desperation in her voice.

Again, he did exactly as she commanded and reached behind him, offering her his hands. In one quick move she slipped the cords over him, tightened them, and wrapped the remaining cords around his arms, successfully binding his hands together behind his back.

“There!” she said in triumph. “This should help enormously.”

She grabbed him by the broad shoulders and pulled until he toppled back onto the bed beside her. Without pause she swung her leg over to straddle him and keep him there, bound and pinned beneath her. It was his turn to become the victim in this little game he'd taught her.

“Now, my lord, how do you like being on the other side?”

He shifted just slightly to adjust his hands beneath him and gave her a wicked grin.

“I like it very much. Now that I'm your prisoner, what will you do with me, Miss D'Archaud?”

She pondered that. “I think to begin with, I shall do this.”

She leaned in and nipped first his left nipple and then his right. He drew in a short breath for each one, and she knew she was becoming more and more adept at this sort of thing. My, but she did like it!

She moved so that now her legs were straddling his thighs. His trousers were pulled tight against him; she could see that their playtime had made him hard and ready for more. She wanted more, too. She unfastened his trousers and decided to help herself.

The man was magnificent. For a long moment she sat back on her heels and just stared. Then she slowly reached to touch him. He was soft as velvet and firm as granite. What a fascinating combination.

He moaned when she wrapped her hand around the heated flesh. It was an invigorating feeling, to be holding him in such an intimate way. To think that he trusted her so! Especially as he knew she had so little experience with this. She found herself somewhat flattered by it all, but the desire surging within her did not allow much time for contemplation.

She knew what she wanted—and she was going to take it. Cautiously, she bent to kiss him on the very tip of his manhood. He growled.

“By God, you're going to kill me, my dear.”

“It's more difficult than one might expect to be tied up and helpless against such torture, isn't it, my lord?”

“You may torture me this way for eternity, Sophie.”

Tempting, but she knew in fact she could not. She needed him too badly to let this go on that long. Clearly he was willing. She would have him.

Wondering if she was at all doing this correctly, she slid her body close to his. Kneeling above him, she couldn't help but glance into his face, hoping she would see encouragement there. She did.

“You really are a prodigy,” he said with a smile that gave all the encouragement she needed.

She lowered herself slowly, feeling the fiery hot sensation of his manhood pressing against her. It was what she needed, what her body cried out for. She reveled in the slightest touch, moving and brushing herself against him, until both of them were breathing in raspy gasps. She could take it no more.

Moaning right along with him, she pressed herself down onto him. His body slid into her, warming her and filling her like nothing ever had. With a shiver of desire, she dug her fingers into the solid muscle of his shoulders, riding him as if she'd done this a hundred times before. Her body was primed and ready this time. She felt every inch of him, every wave of passion, every breath of flaming need.

At some point his arms were free, reaching for her, touching her face, her neck, her breasts, her back. She lost track of the passage of time and simply gave in to the motion, the sensation. He thrust himself up into her, deeper than she could have imagined and more wonderful than she could have wished for.

She cried out his name when the ecstasy hit her, more powerful and breathtaking than before. He pulled her to him and held her against his chest as her body rocked and writhed with the passion. She struggled to breathe and didn't care if she did.