Carnal Deceptions (22 page)

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Authors: Scottie Barrett

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #Regency

BOOK: Carnal Deceptions
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She reached past him and plucked her clothes from the seat. As her dress swept by him he seized it. It was a bit of a struggle to wrest it from his grasp. Finally, after heaving a frustrated sigh, he cooperated and helped her wriggle into her still damp clothes. Tucked blissfully in his arms, she snuggled against his chest.

Chapter Seventeen

They passed through Grosvenor Square and Tess could hardly contain herself. The townhouse was minutes away. A heavy fog made visibility poor. As the third stories of the row of houses loomed above the gray mist, Tess pressed her face to the window. The brick façade was shrouded, but the glow of a cigar butt could be seen in front of the house. “Cyrus!” she exclaimed and laughed aloud.

“What is so amusing?” Tallon peered out the window.

“Nothing really. It’s just that I’m so excited to be getting out of this carriage.”

“I don’t know, I thought this last day of travel was rather enjoyable.” His gaze traveled from her lips to her feet. “Although I would have preferred you to stay completely naked for the duration.”

Tess was not entirely certain that her wobbly legs would support her once she stepped onto solid ground.

As huge as Cyrus was he nearly vanished in the thick cloud of moisture swirling around him. He waved some of the floating particles away from his face and squinted toward the carriage before hurrying inside.

“I’m sure my aunt has not left yet. She had planned to ship off to her country house for the warm months.” The horses stopped and, not waiting for the driver, Tallon threw open the door, stepped out and turned to give Tess his hand. “Lady Marcliffe.” The flirtatious smile he offered her as she accepted his hand made her heart race. Overnight her life had changed. She’d gone from pure misery to complete ecstasy. If she was dreaming, may she never wake up.

Cyrus returned outside with Lady Stadwell, Flurry at her heels barking wildly. “Nephew, you shocked me,” Lady Stadwell called. “I did not expect you so soon. As

you see, I have not vacated the townhouse as of yet. But I will make haste and leave

sooner.”

Tess rushed up the steps. “It is good to see you, Lady Stadwell.”

“Now, now, what is with all the formalities? I insist you call me Aunt.” She grinned widely as she took Tess’s hands. “Since we are related.”

“You knew what he was up to then?” Suddenly Lady Stadwell’s demeanor and words on the night Tallon had abducted her made sense.

Lady Stadwell placed the soft palm of her hand against Tess’s cheek. “Of course, my dear, and I couldn’t be happier. Now come inside for some tea. You must be weary.”

Tess ran upstairs to change out of her wrinkled clothes. Flurry, still yapping a greeting, followed her. She took her time getting ready. Tess needed to absorb the earth-shattering events of the last day.

At the washstand, she freshened up with the lavender soap then tamed her curls with her silver-backed brush. She plucked the necklace from the mirror frame and fastened it around her neck. The diamonds sparkled wickedly at her. The extravagant gift reminded her of their provocative history. No words of love had been spoken. Was she his wife or a mistress with a marriage certificate?

Tess strolled back down to the parlor.

“The tea is nearly cold, my dear,” Lady Stadwell said. “She’s here now. I do wish you would take a seat, Nephew.”

But he didn’t. Instead, he walked circles around the room, putting Tess in mind of a sleek panther pacing. He seemed anxious to get the tea party over with.

Tess spoke of their travels and the marriage ceremony in the lightest of tones, smoothing over the rough patches of their trip so as not to worry Lady Stadwell. Though she did not appear to be completely convinced of the uncomplicated story Tess told, she listened attentively.

“Did Mr. Sloan come by?” Tess kept her voice flat and did not look at her husband when she asked the question.

Lady Stadwell lifted her gaze heavenward. “Have you seen the calling cards in the platter in the hallway? The devil came every day. The servants were instructed to say you were ill. That is until Cyrus told him the truth. Once we’d determined there wasn’t a chance Sloan could catch your coach, Cyrus informed him of the elopement.” She wiped her hands as though she’d just dispensed with rubbish. “We never heard from Sloan again.”

Tess did not express her doubts, but she did not believe that villainous characters disappeared so conveniently from one’s life.

With a wry smile, Lady Stadwell eyed her nephew’s restlessness and declared, “A newlywed couple needs some time alone, and I’m determined to leave at once.”

And true to her word, with very little fuss she departed at noon with a few of Tallon’s serving staff.

*

That night, Tess chose a lace-edged nightrail. It was a clinging silk piece meant only for seduction, based on a design suggested by her courtesan tutor. Tess entered the bedchamber from the dressing room to find her husband sitting in a chair working his boots off. He was fully clothed as she’d expected.

“Finally,” he said. “How long does it take to put on a scrap of material?” His gaze followed her as she climbed into bed beneath the covers.

“I wanted to look my best. It is officially my first night with my husband. The carriage doesn’t count.” In truth, her husband’s pacing outside her door had flustered her.

“It counts,” he contradicted.

“Well, maybe it counts a little.” She arranged her just-brushed hair over her shoulders.

He dropped his boots beside the chair. “Snuff the candle.”

She turned on her side and propped herself on her elbow. “Let’s leave it burning.” With a bemused look, he got to his feet and removed his coat, cravat and waistcoat.

Tess knew exactly what was to follow. After depositing his garments on the chair, he

stepped toward the bed stand with the clear intent of putting out the light, just as she’d predicted. She swung out of bed and snatched up the candle. “If you do not shed all your clothes tonight then I shall sleep in a flannel gown buttoned to the neck and a robe.”

“Did you think I would sleep with my trousers on?” “Oh, stubborn man, let me see them.”

He waggled his brows and offered a suggestive smile complete with dimple. She gave an exasperated sigh. “You know exactly what I mean.”

He pressed his hand to his shoulder. “What, so I can scare you off when I’ve only just talked you into my bed?”

“Then a flannel gown it shall be.” Candle still in hand, she started toward the dressing room.

“Frightening. That was your word for them, if you recall.” He tugged off his shirt and practically dared her to look at him. But she kept her focus on his eyes until he’d shed his trousers and drawers. Then she allowed her gaze to roam over his intimidating physique.

She set down the candle and approached him. “I said they were fascinating as well.” She stroked her fingertips gently over the scar on his shoulder. The wounds had been great. If things had gone differently, she very well might never have known him. She pressed a kiss to the seamed skin. His body gave a jolt beneath her hands.

“I have another one,” he said. Instantly, it seemed, he’d forgotten his worries and relished the attention.

“I had no intention of neglecting it.” She smiled up at him. Her hands smoothed down the length of his muscular body as she lowered herself to her knees, her tongue tracing a trail down his chest to his rock-hard abdomen then along his hipbone. Purposefully, she detoured a bit and brushed her cheek against his throbbing cock before licking her way down to his thigh. She lavished his other scar with open-mouthed kisses.

“Now I want my cock in your sweet mouth.” He put his fingers under her chin and lifted her gently. Her mouth opened greedily on him. She swirled her tongue around his shaft.

“On the bed,” he ordered almost instantly.

With a pout on her lips, Tess sat back on her heels. He tasted delicious and she wanted more of him. Apparently, her husband was in an indecisive mood. It seemed he wished her everywhere at once. Acceding to his newest demand, she stretched herself out on the bed.

He pointed to the nightrail. “Off,” he said simply.

She sat up and pulled the shimmering gown over her head and let it slither from her fingers to puddle on the floor.

“So, Tess,” Tallon said as he settled himself between her legs. He slid her hair aside to bare her breasts. “How do you enjoy being Lady Marcliffe?” The last words he whispered, and her body answered with a tremble.

“It is a tolerable situation thus far.” She accommodated his big body by splaying her knees farther apart. She smoothed her hands over his back.

“Tolerable, you say?” He lifted himself and entered her slowly. “Would you say—” he pushed into her in exquisite increments, “—barely tolerable or—” his cock seemed to reach the deepest part of her “—or quite tolerable?”

Breathless, she clung to him. He rode her with a possessive rhythm that sent her senses reeling.

“Tess!” he cried as he collapsed atop her, spilling his seed inside her.

As they settled into sleep, his body curled tightly against her back, she finally managed to answer his question. “Quite tolerable,” she said.

*

Tallon woke to the smell of burning bread and, finding the bed empty, assumed Tess was downstairs making breakfast. He congratulated himself for disconcerting her so thoroughly that she’d botched her baking.

In a hurry to tease his new bride about her mishap in the kitchen, Tallon beckoned Cyrus with the bell pull.

With his usual lack of grace, Tallon’s new valet barreled into the room. Without being asked, Cyrus began sharpening the razor on the strop. “I do wish that infernal bell would break. Couldn’t you shout for me, sir?”

“Just not done, old man.” Tallon soaped his face. “What’s burning?”

“A pan of buns.” Cyrus clicked his tongue. “A shame. They looked tasty. We have Jane to blame for that. That pesky wench took Lady Marcliffe out into the garden with some nonsense about the dog digging up the flowers. How that little pup could do any damage, I don’t know.”

Tallon turned to him, his face half lathered.

“Something’s not right with that wench. Always seemed to be lurking about when I was telling Mr. Sloan to bugger off,” Cyrus continued.

A chilling dread knocked the breath out of Tallon. The pieces had fallen into order for him. He’d made certain not to pick Jane to help Tess pack for the elopement. But he had only suspected the maid of being a gossip. It had never occurred to him that there was anything more sinister about her. He grabbed the towel from Cyrus’s shoulder and

wiped his face. He pulled on his shirt and raced down the stairs. Cyrus’s loud steps thundered behind him.

Jane looked up from the washboard as Tallon burst into the kitchen. Her face turning ashen, she dropped the wet clothing into the tub and curtsied low. “My lord.”

“Where’s Lady Marcliffe?”

“I have yet to see her this morning.”

Cyrus skidded in behind Tallon. “You lying wench, I saw you with her not more than thirty minutes ago when you were dragging her into the garden.”

Tallon narrowed the distance between himself and the maid. “Where is she?” Jane blinked rapidly and retreated a step.

With the flat of his hand, Tallon slammed the wall above her head.

Jane flinched. “At Mr. Sloan’s cottage in Woolwich. Unless the boat’s sailed.” “I’ll fetch your horse.” Cyrus was already clumping up the basement stairs.

“You follow with the coach for Lady Marcliffe. I’ll need some way to bring my wife home,” Tallon called up to him.

Tess would be coming home because for Tallon, there was no other possibility.

Chapter Eighteen

Sloan uncorked the bottle and poured a glass of green liquid.

“Poison?” Tess asked almost politely before Sloan leaned across the table, pinched her chin hard and forced her jaw open. He shoved pills into her mouth then thrust the glass of the green liquid into her hands. It was quite awkward to drink with her wrists bound together with rope, but she gulped the liquid the best she could, chasing down the bitter pills with the bitter drink. A trickle ran down her chin. She lifted her shoulder and wiped it off on her dress.

Tess surveyed her surroundings again. From its ordinary exterior no one would guess how the cottage was furnished. The settee was upholstered in gold damask, as was the ottoman. The small dining table was elaborately carved with gilded dragons twining up the legs. The table chairs had cushions with golden tassels. She looked back at her captor with his pomaded curls and decided the tasteless setting fit him perfectly.

“I’m glad you are no longer trying to vomit. Frightfully expensive stuff.” Sloan studied her. “That, my dear, is a devastating mix—Spanish fly and wormwood liquor. I’m surprised you haven’t felt the effects yet. You’ve had enough to stimulate a horse.”

“I suppose this is the only way you can get women to share your bed.”

“Actually, most are quite willing. But for a betraying bitch like yourself, it isn’t enough that you be willing. I want you to come crawling to me. I want to hear you beg.”

In truth, Tess had been feeling the effects of the aphrodisiacs for quite some time. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Her quim was soaking wet and aching to be touched. But, even under the influence of his potions, she didn’t want the bastard touching her. That was about the only thing she could still reason out. Her thoughts were almost entirely controlled by the sensations concentrated in her quim. Even the gun he waved was merely a glinting distraction that her eyes followed as a child might a shiny toy. Nothing seemed real.

“I want you obedient when you travel with me to China. Not as my bride, of course, but as an offering. A whore with your exotic coloring would be quite a novelty. Anyone who can be of service to me will be offered a suck or a fuck. And for those willing to pay, I will let them use you for any perverted tendency they may wish to indulge.”

The door of the cottage burst open. It was obvious by the look in his eyes that Tallon had heard the last of Sloan’s speech. Though he brandished a pistol, he looked like he’d relish tearing out the man’s throat with his bare hands.

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