The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne (37 page)

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Authors: Natasha Blackthorne

Tags: #Romance, #Gothic, #Historical, #Scottish, #Victorian, #Regency, #Historical Romance

BOOK: The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne
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Not even any secrets of the heart. They were constantly encouraged to confess their every temptation to their parents. Many an evening was passed, discussing temptations and how to overcome them. Such conversations took the place of mere entertainments and pastimes. Satan was hiding behind each corner. One had to be aware of his methods at all times.

That had been their home life. All she had known as a girl.

Her sisters had been content with this.

But Sunny’s imagination had often run wild, galloping away from her. Filling her with wants and wishes and energy she had difficulty containing.

She had always needed to find some outlet for her high spirits.

“You are so far away from me.” James’ voice pulled her from her musings, even as his arms tightened about her.

Still feeling wistful, she sighed and looked up into his sleepy, silver-blue eyes. “I used to make everyone happy. I could always coax a smile from the sourest spirited person.”

“It is not your duty to entertain the world and make everyone happy.”

“But I liked it. It was the same as the way that Papa could preach on Sundays to a crowd and have everyone beaming with joy, hanging on his every word. I used to watch him do that…so effortlessly. He took people out of their dreary existences and lifted them a little closer to heaven. A day out of the week when their sins and their wretchedness were released. People need that. People need moments of bliss amid the stark, cold reality of life.”

“Such weighty thoughts you have whilst in bed, my love.” Amusement sounded in his voice.

“I think, if I had not been born to a clergyman…” She hugged his arm, feeling her depleted energy returning as a small surge of delighted naughtiness lit within her. She always felt that way when she imagined how different her life might have been. “If had been born to a shopkeeper or a tavern owner or a laboring man, I would have run away to the theater.”

“You could have.” Deep emotion vibrated in his voice. “You would have been a sensation.”

“You don’t find it odd, the way I compare Papa’s preaching to a play acted on stage?”

“Both lift people out of their daily life. Both provide a form of release.”

“Yes, they do. But I am not that girl anymore.” She felt what little energy had returned to her drain with that admission. “I am too serious now. Too sad.”

“Perhaps that’s just a facet of yourself that you’ve been faced with. It is easy to be carefree and focused on giving others joy when you’ve never yet known real loss and pain. But everyone faces disillusion and grief as they mature into adulthood.”

“The thing is, if I am not that girl now, who am I? What worth do I really have?”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“I know the truth, James. I am not a pleasure to be around now.”

“That’s rubbish!” He sat up and took her hand. “Stop believing all the rubbish that Aunt Frances drilled into your head. You don’t owe anyone entertainment. You don’t owe them happy spirits or smiles.”

She looked up at him, trying to reflect a teasing light in her eyes. “Don’t I owe you entertainment?”

His look! Goodness, she had never seen his expression turn so fierce, and certainly never so quickly. She shrank back against the pillow as much as she could, and wondered if she ought to beg his pardon.

“Cat.” He squeezed her hand. “You don’t owe me anything except your company, and to share yourself with me, good, bad and all the in-between. I am keeping you as my lover, not my whore.”

At the last word, her blood went cold. She turned away.

He ran a caressing hand from her shoulder and along her arm. “Don’t turn away, tell me.”

“I hate to be a depressing bore.”

“What did I say just a moment ago; have you already forgotten? You don’t have to be bright or happy for me. Not all the time. I would rather have your honesty than your lies.”

“You think that’s what I do? That I want to lie to people?”

“It is a form of dishonesty for you to deny your true feelings. Especially here with me, where it is not necessary.”

“I had not thought of it exactly like that.”

“You must start to think of it in exactly those terms. If I am to take care of you, if I am satisfy your needs, all of them, then I must know the truth of your thoughts and feelings.” He tapped her shoulder with two fingertips. “Now tell me.”

“I fear I am a whore at heart. The worst kind.”

“What on earth could ever give you that idea?”

“I have to admit something about Meeker.” She said the doctor’s name hesitantly, fully expecting that James was weary of hearing about the man. But she needed to talk about this.

She needed to confess to someone.

Maybe after confessing, her own tangled confusion would ease. She might come to know this new Sunny a little better.

This Sunny she had never guessed at as a girl.

Slowly, she turned then slowly lifted her eyes to his, dreading what she would see. Exasperation? Disgust?

He was staring at her with compassion. He took her hand and pulled it to his cheek and pressed it there. “Tell me.”

It wasn’t an easy matter to discuss and for a moment, she struggled to gather her wits to speak. “When I first met Dr. Meeker, I found him rather attractive, despite our considerable age difference.”

“After Freddy, Meeker’s relative maturity was refreshing?”

“I suppose. But there’s something else, something darker, far less flattering to me. When he began to speak of my need for discipline and punishment, it intrigued me.” She took a deep breath, turning her face ever-so-slightly from his so that he couldn’t see her eyes.

“You found the idea of being punished by man arousing?”

Oh goodness! Admitting to having been intrigued, that she could do. But she didn’t wish to admit that she’d actually been aroused, initially, by Meeker and his shocking suggestions. Especially when the reality of his “discipline” had proved to be far from sexually arousing.

If you can’t be good, at least be honest. With yourself, with James.

She rolled onto her side, glancing away from him.

“Yes, I found it arousing,” she said softly, as though speaking in a hushed tone would make the admission less damning. Her cheeks began to flame. More with shame than embarrassment.

He grasped the back of her neck.

The unexpected firm gesture sent a thrill through her. She caught her breath.

“You don’t have to be ashamed with me, Cat. I am your lover. I am here to satisfy your longings. But what if I told you that you were only allowed to come when you were with me?”

A bolt of pure desire flared in her sex. “Oh goodness…”

“What?”

“I can no’ believe that I found my doctor, such an older man, attractive. I mean as a man.”

“Cat, it was sexual for him as well. Never think otherwise.”

“I suppose you’re correct.”

“If you had been a clergyman’s widow and he had not been such dastardly example of a man, the two of you might have made quite a congenial marriage.”

“What!” She whirled to face him. “You would have wanted that?”

His look turned so fierce, it seemed he glared down his narrow nose. “No, I would not have wanted that. You know I wouldn’t have. But it could have happened, as you say, if you had been born to a different man, had led a different life.”

She frowned. “I feel that you are making sport of me.”

“No, I am trying to make you see it is not so shameful. Not so unusual. Men and women meet every day, in all sorts of circumstances. They are attracted to each other for a variety of reasons, sometimes against their willing it.”

“Yes, I suppose they are,” she said softly.

“But you were intrigued by the idea of receiving discipline and punishment, from a man?” He paused. “A lover?”

She sucked in her breath then grew quiet.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I can’t talk about this. I should no’ have mentioned it.”

“We need to talk about all of this.”

“I can no’ possibly!” She bent her head and buried her face in the crook of his arm.

He tightened his hold on her neck. A flash of fire shot through her, making her nipples into hard points. Her channel clenched and wetness began to trickle over her folds. She hugged his leg more eagerly with her own.

“You thought about a man punishing you? And you found it arousing?”

She nodded against him. Then she pulled her face away from his chest. “It did no’ turn out to be very thrilling. In fact, it was the worst thing ever. I hated it! But I had consented to it and he said it was necessary to my healing.”

With James here, so solid and warm, Meeker and his tortures seemed distant. Something that might have happened in a dream. As though she were speaking of things that happened in another life. Another world.

A nightmare world that she’d only narrowly escaped.

Escaped because James had listened to her, trusted her. Supported her whilst she regained enough strength to see the truth about Meeker for herself.

“He went about it wrong. He abused you. Abused your trust.” James sounded so certain.

She could almost believe the fault had been with Meeker and not her. She caressed her hand over the expanse of James’ hard-muscled chest. “I suppose.”

“Did you continue to think about being punished by a man, even whilst hating the way he treated you?”

“Oh!” She bent her head. “I can no’ talk about this.” She hid her face again.

“Cat, I can feel you getting wet.”

She became aware of how she was rocking her cleft against his leg with slow, circular motions of her pelvis. But she couldn’t seem to hold herself still.

“What if, instead of the punishment being about correcting some fundamental flaw in your whole being, it was simply a game between two lovers?” He pressed his thigh firmly against her thrusting pelvis.

“A game?” she asked, breathlessly.

“Yes.” He slid his hand down the center of her buttocks and into the crevasse. “A game between us.”

“What if I hate it?”

“Then, the moment you realize you truly dislike it, you’ll tell me to ‘halt,’ using exactly that word, and we’ll stop.”

“When?” She heard the increased breathlessness in her voice. Felt the gushing wetness between her legs. Her cleft slid on his leg, frustrating her attempts at building some friction. “When would we do this thing?”

“Now, I should think.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

 

 

“Oh…” A wave of excitement quaked through Sunny’s loins. “Oh, goodness.” Her body began to tremble. “But I haven’t been bad, have I?”

“I own you,” James said. “I don’t need a reason to do what I please with your luscious body, do I? I shall give you whatever I think you need, when I think you need it. Haven’t you given me leave to do exactly that?”

“Oh,” she gasped. The change in his tone, the sudden shift between them, the truth of what he’d said, it all sent thrills slamming through her. Made her heart pound and her mouth go dry in the most delicious way.

“But we shall also have some rules for you. They will seem quite simple, but you’ll find they won’t be easy ones for you to abide by.”

“Oh goodness.” She swallowed hard, trying to think of what those rules might be. “Do you mean rules such as a gentleman gives his mistress? You will mandate a spending limit for me?”

She felt his surprise in the way his body went slightly tense. He chuckled softly. “A spending limit?”

“Yes,” she said, feeling foolish.

“I see no reason to set limits on your spending, Cat.”

“I like beautiful things.”

“And you like expensive foods, wine, clothes…yes, I have noticed.”

“I fear I have spent extravagantly in the past. No one said aught about it…well, Grandmother Blayne has teased me. But Frances never questioned my bills. Yet Freddy used to make caustic comments. I think my spending is another failing.”

He chuckled softly, then put his mouth against the side of her neck and nipped at her gently. ”I’ve seen your bills. Who do you think has approved such frivolity since Freddy died?”

“Aunt Frances has always taken care of the finances.”

“I did not seek to completely usurp her position from Landbrae. She has her pride and scarce little else to comfort herself. I am not totally heartless. However, I have made her approve bills paid from the Blayne account with me. I also had my man of business study the history of her ledgers.”

“Oh my.” She’d had no idea. She had thought Landbrae and all who lived there beneath his notice all this time.

“I know all about your spending habits.” He chuckled again. “Yes, you can be quite extravagant.”

A spiral of shame wound through her and she uttered a little moan. It was one thing to find pleasure in searching out and collecting pretty knacks and books and hair accessories and jewelry and all the other things that had given her pleasure. It was another to actually have to face James with such.

“Silk nightgowns in the summer.” His voice held a touch of amused incredulousness.

Heat swept over her face. “I-I adore the feel against my skin.”

“Indeed.” His voice was rich and sensual as his warm breath blew on the hollow beneath her ear.

“I can try to do better. I shall do better.” She spoke hastily, wanting to smooth over her past sins. “But I don’t think I can give up the silk—”

“Shh,” he said.

She didn’t know what to say now. “James—”

“I can afford you, Cat.” He kissed her neck with heat and passion. “I will have a house built for you, a fine house, and you can fill it with all manner of beautiful things.”

His generosity made her feel all the worse. “It is surely wrong to be so extravagant.”

“It was wrong for a clergyman’s daughter to be self-indulgent?”

“Yes,” she said, shame still burning through her, overtaking the sensual excitement she had been feeling.

“Would such self-indulgence be wrong for an earl’s cherished mistress?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re not simply a clergyman’s daughter now. You’re mine and it is my place, and mine alone, to say if your spending habits are excessive. Up to this point, I haven’t considered them so.” He paused for a moment. “I think it is good for Britain.”

“Good for Britain?” His response was so unexpected, it left her not knowing what to say.

“Honest, hardworking craftsmen need the trade, do they not?”

“I suppose they do.”

“I am happy to do my part for Britain.” His hand pressed a little deeper between her buttocks. “No, you’re an adult woman and I am a wealthy man; I don’t think our rules need be about your spending habits or any other such petty matter.”

“I can no’ imagine what your rules will be.”

“They will be about your body and my ownership of it.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t imagine that either, except…“You mean I should no’ notice other men and I should no’ touch myself and—”

“Surely, you cannot help if you notice other men. You’re a sensual, warm woman. I can’t expect to prevent you from noticing other men unless I blindfold you.”

He said that so matter-of-factly and, strangely enough, it made her feel at ease. A deep relaxation like she’d not known in years. An acceptance of her nature.

He knew her sexual nature.

He still accepted her.

“As for you touching yourself, I think for now, I shall be liberal about that. You’ve been shamed too much over that.”

“But I…” An intense feeling of shame swept her, cutting off her words.

He raised up, pulling her with him and propping himself up on the pillows. He put his hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “No, don’t close your eyes.”

She took a deep breath and struggled to obey him.

“You want me to control that part of your life? Your private pleasures with yourself?”

“No—” She was breathing harder now. “I mean I-I…”

“The idea intrigues you?”

She laughed softly, unable to speak.

“Catriona, if you want to try it, it is all right. I could set a rule that you may only come when you are with me. Nothing will be set in stone. If you don’t like it, we can negotiate things. We can change or cease anything.”

Be honest, always be honest with him.

He was staring at her so intently now, she felt sure he could see into her very soul. That it was impossible to keep secrets from him.

She sighed. “Yes, yes I do want that.”

“You want what?”

“That…what we just spoke of.”

“Say that you want me to control when and how you come.”

“I can no’ say that!” She was trembling.

“If you want that from me, then say it.” His tone was firm, brooking no refusal.

“I-I…want you to control when…and h-how I come.” Her throat had threatened to close up several times and by the end she had been whispering. Speaking so bluntly of such intimate acts was too intense.

But they were doing more than simply speaking.

She was giving him control over the most intimate part of her life.

She’d tried to give another man control over that before and she had failed to comply, and that man had unleashed a horror upon her.

Would she fail this time?

Would James fail her?

She hoped not.

“Catriona, this will be different from how it was with Meeker. I am no doctor hiding behind some mad theory that it will cure all your physical and mental ills. I will do it for your pleasure.” He paused. “And mine.”

“Yours?” Nothing could have startled her more. “What…I mean how would it give you pleasure?”

“I am aroused by such things, such games.”

“Games?”

“It’s a game between lovers. Not all that uncommon.”

Not all that uncommon. That reassured her. “I still don’t completely understand how it would arouse you.”

“It would please me greatly to control you, to dominate you in that way. Sexually, I want to be your entire world.”

The way he’d said that made her catch her breath. She had not fully guessed at his capacity for such passionate desires. She had never thought of him as particularly playful, either.

He caressed her arm with the backs of his fingers. “If you are truly aroused by the game as well, there is no reason we shouldn’t play. But we must be careful to communicate clearly with each other. We must proceed with care not to trigger all this shaming associated with Freddie and then Meeker.”

She needed this; something in her hungered for it. She didn’t understand it but she couldn’t deny herself the possibility of finally getting what she wanted most of all.

She studied the line of James’ strong jaw. He radiated strength, purpose. She wanted that strength and purpose wrapped around her. Controlling her. Goodness, had she ever admitted that so frankly to herself?

Yes, she wanted it and she was willing to put herself into his hands to find it.

“Thank you,” he said, his expression serious.

“For what?”

“For trusting me with that. I know it couldn’t be an easy thing to admit.”

“Yes, but it makes no sense. I shouldn’t want that. I think I don’t, but then I feel deep inside that I do.”

He studied her eyes. “You’re afraid of yourself, of your own passions.”

“I suppose I am.”

“Put all your trust in me. Trust me to be your guide and your master of what is and is not appropriate, and do not worry any further about your nature or your drives.”

“It is no’ going to be easy.”

“I don’t expect it will be, at first. But that is why I am going to help you.”

“Help me?”

“I shall train you to be mine, completely mine. One day, not too far from now, being mine will be as natural to you as breathing. You won’t question yourself. You will simply obey me.”

The oddest sensation leaped in her chest, up into her throat.

But she knew what it was.

Hope.

She could admit now that she had been fascinated by what Meeker had wanted from her. Her complete submission. But she’d been repulsed by his performance, unable to give herself to him in that way. She’d been able to admit the fear, the horror his methods had given her.

She had not, until this very moment, been able to admit the disappointment.

Goodness.

The revelation was a little disconcerting. It was as though layers of denial were falling away. She was seeing herself in a way she never had before.

“Easy, love.” James put his lips to her neck. “We will go slow.”

Delicious chills racked her.

“How will you punish me?” She needed to know.

“I might have you practice the harp.”

“Oh, please no! I can no’ tolerate the harp.”

“You could sit on my bed, naked, and practice the harp for as long as pleased me.”

“You can no’ be serious.”

“I am perfectly serious. I happen to find the harp soothing. I have certain favorite songs, and you will learn to play them—indeed, to excel at them.”

“But I thought, I mean that you would…”

“That I would what? Spank you?”

Heated desire flooded her lower belly. “Yes, yes. That.”

“I will. But I am serious about the harp as well. You need different kinds of discipline.”

“Why?”

“Because you have a fine mind, one possessed of many talents, but you tend to be somewhat lazy with them. You know it, too; it makes you despise yourself at times.”

She sucked in her breath, feeling suddenly naked in an entirely novel way. Her worst faults laid bare for another to see.

“But those rules?” she said, hearing her voice, all soft and girlish.

He put his hands on her hips.

She became aware that she had begun to roll her pelvis against his leg again. She was so wet, the sound was audible and luscious and indecent as she rubbed her sex on him.

“How about this—” He held her more firmly, stilling her. “I say you must be still and stop using my leg for your own shameless self-gratification.”

She gave a gasping laugh. “Oh, not fair!” Another laugh escaped her. “And not very gentlemanly of you to mention it.”

“Hush, you must be completely quiet as well. No impudence.” He regarded her now with a stern expression.

It was easier to forget that they were playing. It sent a little leaping, half-anxious, half-excited sensation through her stomach.

He rolled her onto her back, somehow keeping his leg between her thighs. She was grateful for that. Her sex was afire and aching for the pressure he continued to give her by holding his thigh firmly to her sex.

“Hold perfectly still, and keep utterly quiet—not one gasp,” he warned as he lowered his head.

The touch of his lips on her breast sent delight quivering through her. It took real effort to hold her body still. He cupped her other breast, squeezing it with increasing roughness.

She wanted his roughness.

The thrill that raced through her forced a tiny moan up in her throat. She swallowed it back and again, with extreme force of effort, kept herself still. His thumb grazed her nipple. The bud stiffened as though she stood in a cold breeze. He drew her other nipple into his mouth and sucked, lightly at first then stronger. Pure, honeyed pleasure pooled in her lower belly. The urge to grasp his head and press him closer, to beg him for more, threatened to overwhelm her.

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