Bound by Bliss (36 page)

“Why am I not surprised to see you here again?” The voice curled about her, trapping her.

She turned her head—and stopped. Her heart stopped. Her lungs stopped. Every muscle within her just froze and refused to move.

Lord Temple.

She would have closed her eyes, denied the reality, but still she could not move even that much.

“Not going to speak, my Lady Blish? Whoever named you musht have planned it with me in mind,” he slurred, taking a step forward, a step nearer to her. Brandy fumes wafted from him, filling her senses.

She should say something, find some explanation—even if there was none—but she could not think, her emotions already emptied this evening.

“The fates must be smiling on me this evening. I was beginning to despair that my companion for the evening had not arrived. I was going to speak to Ruby about finding a replacement, but instead you magically appear.” He took another step, smiling.

She had dealt with enough drunken fools before that this should not be too difficult. Perhaps he would not even remember seeing her in the morning.

He tapped the crop he held against the shiny black leather of his boots.

A crop? Who carried a crop at this hour? And inside? Any gentleman dropped his crop by the door as he entered a house. And why was he all in black? Her eyes swept him. Even his shirt was black. His cravat too.

Before she could fully finish this thought, Lord Temple smiled more broadly, stepping far too close. His fingers wrapped about her wrist, biting tight.

She pulled back hard, yanking her arm, but he refused to give way.

And in that moment, fear began to fill her. He might be a drunken lout, but drunken louts could still pose danger. A moment ago she had been fighting disbelief and surprise at being caught, but now she knew the beginning of terror.

The look that filled Lord Temple’s eyes spoke of things she could not even begin to contemplate. It wandered over her, focusing again and again at the mounds of her breasts, thankfully still hidden beneath the heavy cloak.

“Let me go,” she hissed.

Temple stared at her and voiced no response.

“Let me go,” she repeated. “Let me go and no one will know of this.”

“I don’t thinksk you’ll tell anyone you were here.” Temple was still slurring, but otherwise seemed able.

She tried again to pull away. Temple held tight.

Stephan. She must get to Stephan. He would protect her from this, protect her from anything. Temple might be a only drunken fool, or he might be something more, but Stephan would take care of it. He would never let this happen to her.

He would never let this happen.

He would keep her safe.

Stephan.

But she had left Stephan, left all that he had promised her.

Pulling hard against Lord Temple’s hand, she tried to step back, to get through the door that a moment ago had represented escape and now represented haven. She had to get back, get back to Stephan.

Lord Temple’s other hand grabbed her other arm, and she found herself lifted and turned. She tried to kick out at the door, to pound against it, to wake her sleeping savior, but Lord Temple was too strong.

She struggled harder, trying to bite and scratch.

Scream. She should scream. Even here, surely a scream would be answered.

Even as the thought formed in her brain, a door clicked open behind her and she was shoved through. By the time the yell left her mouth she was firmly behind a closed and—she heard the click—locked door.

She let out one last scream, loud and shrill.

Temple’s hand landed across her mouth, the force of the gesture sending waves of pain through her head.

“Bite me and I’ll make you pay,” he said, pressing even harder.

God, he was not a drunken fool. He might be drunk, but this edge of cruelty must always have been lurking underneath. The alcohol only released what was already there.

She fought against him, even more determined to make her way free. Maybe the key was still in the lock. If she could just get out the door, and get to Stephan…

Her hands were jerked up suddenly and she found them caught high above her head, something cold and metal latching about her wrists. She tried to jerk against the bands, but found herself held tight from above, the feeling of heavy cold cuffs about her wrists.

Temple’s hand stayed firm about her mouth.

Calm. Be calm. It was clear that she could not struggle against him and whatever held her from above.

“I’ve alwaysh wanted to try these. I love the full access that they grant—and the control I have if I raise or lower the height.” Temple spoke into her ear, but his words seemed to fill the room. “I am going to remove my hand now, but if you scream again I will gag you. I don’t want to do that. I like mouths. You can do so many things with mouths.”

She was going to vomit, whether from fear or the not-fresh stench of Temple she was not sure. And things to do with mouths. She didn’t want to think of that here.

“I don’t know Duldon’s tastes, but if you scream I will assume that you want me to gag you, that you enjoy the feeling of having something between your lips.” He leered at her and licked his own lips, as if his meaning were not clear enough.

Enjoy that? Enjoy any of this? Still as he dropped his hand away she did not make a sound, only worked to moisten her lips and her dry mouth.

“There, that is a good girl. I knew you could be a good girl.” He smiled and stepped back and let his eyes run up and down, surveying her. He reached forward and with a twist of his fingers the cloak fell to the ground, leaving her only in the light dress and chemise. His focus dropped to her breasts, which were, and she hated to use the word, heaving. His mouth opened and closed, his tongue licking again, coating his mouth in shine.

“Please let me go. This is not how you want to behave. You know me. You know I am not this type of woman,” she tried to explain. Not that there was a “this” type of woman.

Temple’s eyes moved up to her face. “Never used to think you were. I thought you were the marrying type. Thought you’d be good for that. I even thought I might marry you. My mother said you had good hips for babies—although she thought you wild. I guess she was right.”

“No, she wasn’t. I am not wild at all.”

“Then why are you here? It’s not the first time. I saw you here before, with him, with Duldon. Everyone here knows what he likes.” Temple’s eyes glanced to the crop that he’d dropped along with her cloak. “If you can do that with him, then you can do it with me. I’ve always wanted to try, but the girls who will do it charge too much. I didn’t know ladies did it for free.”

Temple seemed more sober by the moment, but clearly not more open to reason.

“I really do not want to be here with you.” She had to try one more time, regardless.

“You have to say that. I know even here you need to pretend to be good and innocent.”

“But, I am. I am still a virgin, untouched.”

He gave her a look that let her know very clearly what he thought of that.

“I am. And my father will be very upset.”

Temple showed no response to that.

“And Lord Duldon. He will not take kindly to this.”

Temple did respond to that, but not in a good way. “Bloody ass. Always telling me to leave you alone, like you belonged to him, like I wasn’t good enough for you. I knew you didn’t feel the same. You wanted me. I could tell by the way you looked at me. And then last time when you wanted to play, wanted me to think that you wanted to escape. I knew you were only playing hard to get. But then I saw you with him. Why did you let him touch you like that?”

Bliss yanked against the metal cuffs, hard. She could not believe this was happening to her, not now—not when…when…God, why had she fled from Stephan? Why had she run from everything that she wanted?

Taking the chance to glance about the room, she looked up. The cuffs that held her hands were attached to a chain that ran up to a bolt in the ceiling. Who had a bolt in the ceiling other than to hang hams in the kitchen? She shuddered at the images that placed in her mind. She did not need to think of herself as a piece of meat.

“Answer me.” Temple was growing impatient.

What exactly had Temple seen? She knew she could not let him think she preferred Duldon to him, that she actually found him distasteful. “I didn’t let him touch me. He just did. But I didn’t want to let you catch me either. I truly am not that kind of girl.”

She looked about, trying to think of any way to make the man see sense, any way to make him release her. The room was very similar to the one she shared with Duldon, although perhaps not as fine. One of the wardrobes stood half-open and she could see the shine of metal and a hint of dark leather within. Leather? She peered more closely. A whip? Her eyes flew to the crop that Temple had somehow kept as he bundled her into the room. She was not going to think about that until she had to, surely Temple could not truly mean to…She pulled at the chains again.

She swallowed once and then tried to make her mouth form words. “Why are you…?”

He cut her off, “I think I should make you ask for permission to speak. I believe that is how these things are done. Does Duldon make you ask and beg?”

Why did he keep speaking of Stephan in such a manner? She blocked that thought from her mind also. More immediate worries beckoned. She would try playing his game and see if she could delay things. This surely could not go on for long. “May I please speak?” She had not meant to sound so polite.

“May I please speak, Master?” he corrected. “Didn’t Duldon teach you any manners?”

Master? A half-memory of Stephan joking about the word flitted through her mind. Call Lord Temple Master? No. Never. Only she was not a fool—and had spent enough years fighting with her brothers to know when to lose the battle and think of the war. “May I please speak, Master?” she said the words with extra sugary sweetness.

“I will allow it for the moment.” He leaned over and picked up the crop, slapped it idly against his thigh. He was enjoying the role he had chosen for himself. And then his eyes again locked on her bosom in a most unpleasant manner. “But do not try my patience.”

“Why are you doing this? Surely you would have more fun with somebody else, with one of Madame Rouge’s girls. I am afraid I truly don’t understand—Master.” She added the last as she saw his face begin to darken.

“What is there to understand? I was alone with no one to play with and then there you were. I could not mistake the joy you have taken in our game. I know you wanted me to find you the other night. You wanted me. You still want me. Although you did take it too far the other night and I can only think you are trying to make me punish you. That is the game you like, is it not?”

“No, I do not like this game.” She tried to speak firmly, to hide the quaver in her voice, lest he mistake it for anything but fear.

“Girls always take persuading.” He smiled again.

Was the man insane? She began to fear that he might be. Surely no reasoning man could mistake her refusal for invitation.

“Please let me go.” It seemed hopeless, but what could she do but try?

“I wish you would quit saying that. I know you don’t mean it. Why would you have run into the hallway if you weren’t looking for me? No, don’t answer. I know the truth. Now, how to begin? Normally I start when the girls are already naked in the bed—and we’re not doing anything but a simple fuck, or sometimes she uses her mouth. I do like mouths. How does Duldon start?”

God, he did have a preoccupation with Stephan. Her mind spun as she tried to find the right tack to take. “Duldon likes of the joy of anticipation. He wants me to wait and wonder what it will all feel like. He wants to be sure that my whole focus is on him when it happens. He believed the longer I waited the more I would feel it, would know what it meant.”

Temple pursed his lips. “I can perhaps understand that.” The slap of the crop against his thigh belayed his words.

Think. Think. Think. “He likes to play with me first, to stare at me and just watch me. He knows how excited I get just being watched, the things it does to my body.”

Temple’s eyes had grown dark, and his breath shallow; perhaps this was not the right road to take. She hadn’t meant to get the man excited, not that he hadn’t been already.

The crop stilled, and then began a slow steady tap. “You do look delicious hanging there. The ideas it puts in my head. Should I strip you bare? I rather think I should. Yes, I can see the pleasure that might exist in just watching. I could even pull you up a little higher. Would you like that?”

The man was deranged. There was no denying it. He actually thought this is what she wanted.

A deep knot of terror grew in her belly. She should have been more afraid from the moment she’d been shoved through the door, but only now did the full implications of what he might do settle upon her. Should she scream again? How much noise could she make before he could gag her? The bolt that held her to the ceiling was far enough from any of the wardrobes that he’d have to leave her free for a few seconds at least while he fetched the gag. Her eyes moved from the wardrobes to her feet, considering.

“Are you wondering what I am going to do to you? Are you feeling the anticipation?” Temple took a step closer. He clearly did not have Stephan’s patience for just watching and waiting.

Lowering her eyes, she did her best to ignore him. Should she scream?

“Should I tell you?” he continued, reaching out a finger and running it across the top of her breasts.

Why was it so different when he touched her and when Stephan touched her? “Yes, Master.” It was best to know so that she could plan.

He smiled with satisfaction, but then his gaze locked on the edge of her bodice where the pink of her nipple was showing through.

“I see that Duldon has been playing. I think I’d like to play too.” He reached out and pulled the bodice down, pulling her chemise with it. “Very, very pretty. You really do like games.”

Against her will Bliss found her own gaze settling on her breast, on the milky white flesh marred with dark pink circles where the wax had fallen and on the nipple, so tight and peaked and swollen.