Her Grace's Stable: A Jane Austen Space Opera, Book 2 (21 page)

“Then we’re agreed I’ll return to take command at the front?”

She squeezed his hands harder, letting emotion twist her face so he had no doubt of her feelings. “I can’t bear to think of you in danger but I know in my heart there’s no one better to lead us to victory. I’ll support you from the fleet with Britannia’s finest technological weaponry and bathe the entire Iberian system in hellfire flames if one hair on your head is injured. I fought Majel herself to make sure you were given the responsibility and recognition for your skills. The last thing I’d ever do is dishonor you before our troops.”

He let a slow, deep breath out and some of the tension eased in his shoulders. “I know you wouldn’t deliberately dishonor me, but generations of customs are difficult to overcome.”

“It starts with us, here and now. Much as it pains me to admit, I’m far from perfect. I’m going to make mistakes. So are you. But as long as we communicate like this, we can give Her Majesty the victory she requires.”

Arthur still couldn’t quite comprehend the fact that he was in the Duchess of Blackmyre’s bedchamber. That he’d been promoted with her to lead the troops against Francia, let alone that he’d be a Duke twice over.

That he’d actually had a tail this afternoon and he’d never felt more exhilarated and free.

And while she now took another man into her bed, he’d never been more aroused.

She didn’t voice any requirements or limitations or even orders, much to his surprise. She’d simply wrapped her arms around Cole’s neck and let him carry her to bed.

Cradled between her thighs, Cole nestled against her like he was never going to leave. She wrapped her arms and thighs around him, holding him with her entire body, and he sighed with pleasure. “It’s been so long, Mistress.”

“I’m so sorry, pet. I thought a clean break would give me time to place you with someone to take care of you, and I didn’t want you to have to watch me die.”

Kissing his way down her body, Cole stroked her like a blind man, memorizing every secret curve and hollow of her body for all time. “I’d rather watch you die than lose a single moment we could have been together. I could have taken care of you for a change.”

Barely breathing, Arthur took note of each small moan, how gently—or hard—the other man touched her, where she sighed with pleasure, when she scored Cole’s back with her nails. It was like a crash course in how to make love to the woman and not the mistress.

However, he couldn’t help the feeling that he ought to hide in the shadows. Better yet, he should withdraw and leave them to privacy. The care and love between them filled the room to overflowing, swelling his heart until he couldn’t breathe for fear of breaking a rib. How could she possibly love him when she loved Cole so very much? What could he offer her that Cole hadn’t already given a million times already?

As if she’d heard the turbulent thoughts rolling about in his head, she let out a husky laugh. “I had the stallion today, Cole, so be gentle with me.”

The other man groaned and buried his face against her neck. “He’s quite the brute, isn’t he?”

“Indeed.” She turned her head, pinning Arthur with those heavy-lidded sultry eyes. “He bruted me like none has ever done before. If he wants to join us, he can brute you while you’re inside of me.”

Arthur’s entire body vibrated with sudden energy as though MIGS had managed to infect him with a million nanobots. His buttocks tightened involuntarily at the memory of the tail filling him. He was still a little sore, a sweet reminder of how it’d felt to prance as the stallion for her.

How much more had Cole’s ass hurt after he’d plowed him so roughly?

Fisting his hands, Arthur fought to remain still, to avoid the ceaseless pull of her desire. His cock complained at the tight constraint his trousers had suddenly become.
I don’t want to hurt anyone, let alone the man who brought me to her.

“Would you like that, pet?” she whispered in Cole’s ear, loudly enough for Arthur to hear but low, making him strain and lean closer. “Or is he too much brute for you?”

“God, yes,” Cole ground out. He rose up enough to turn and look at Arthur with a coltish smile that made him want to fist a hand in his hair and smash his lips beneath his. “I’d love for him to do it again. Anytime he wants. As hard as he wants. And if he takes me while I’m inside you, I’ll probably die in your arms in a detonation so violent the Queen’s Ravens will come to investigate for fear someone’s trying to assassinate her.”

Arthur was moving toward the bed before he realized it. Shaken, he paused in the act of unbuttoning his trousers, unsure of his ability to control himself. He’d hoped that time in the ring would curb the rougher edge of violence in his lust, but his body temperature rose to scalding. No one had touched him, and he was already as viciously aroused as she’d had him in the ring.

Every stinging mark from her crop blazed like fire in his skin, inflaming him more.

“There’s oil in the drawer.” Her voice caught on a husky little moan that made his fingers leap into action once more. “Pour some in my hand and I’ll prepare him for you.”

His fingers trembled so badly that he spilled a lake on her palm. Evidently she didn’t mind, and neither did Cole, who trembled as she poured some of the oil down his crack. Her greased hand came back to slip inside Arthur’s trousers. It was all he could do to strip the rest of his clothes while she held him in a tight, firm grip, a promise of what was to come.

Until Cole groaned, Arthur didn’t realize she’d been teasing him with her other hand.

“You’re not going to come too quickly, are you, pet?” With a low, teasing chuckle, she swirled and prodded, spreading the oil deeper. “Arthur’s not even inside you yet and you feel like you’re ready to burst.”

“I won’t come until you do, Violet. I’ll hold it or die trying. But hurry, please, I beg you!”

Arthur climbed onto the bed, as awkward and nervous as a virgin on his wedding night. So many limbs… He wasn’t even sure where and how to kneel. As soon as Cole felt the mattress dip, he groaned and arched his back, lifting those tempting buttocks. The sight of Cole moving above her nearly made him spill his seed then and there. She pulled her thighs higher toward Cole’s shoulders, giving Arthur an unimpeded path straight to Cole’s arse.

Hesitantly, Arthur laid his palm on that sleek curve. Part of him wanted to simply grip the man’s hips and plunge to the hilt like he’d done that first time. Mindless, savage, lost in lust. But Cole deserved better this time. They all did.
If I’m going to marry her and join their relationship permanently, then I need to know him as well as I know her. I have to control myself.

He smoothed his hand up Cole’s back, tracing the shape of his spine. He quivered beneath Arthur’s hand, so responsive and receptive. Cole didn’t thrust—he simply lay on top of her and waited to see what Arthur would do. She didn’t direct him either, as though she wanted him to simply feel and act on those feelings.

She made no protest when Arthur stroked her calf and thigh. With one hand on her and the other on Cole, he marveled at the differences. She was soft and silk, Cole was lean and hard. Arthur pressed closer, leaning down over them both. He’d never felt so much muscle beneath him before. She was certainly a strong woman in more ways than one, but having a man between them made her curves all the more feminine.

“Am I doing this right?”

Cole groaned again, making her laugh. “Judging by the sounds you’re drawing from him, I’d say yes.”

“No,” Cole growled. “You’re not going fast enough. I’m going to die before…”

Gritting his teeth, Arthur pushed inside enough that Cole’s words turned into a strangled groan. “Better?”

“Better,” she purred, arching beneath them. Somehow she managed to reach around Cole and grab a handful of Arthur’s backside, hauling him closer.

Cole sounded like he was dying. “Please, Violet, don’t let him stop!”

She leaned up and kissed Cole, and then pulled his head to one side so she could see Arthur over his shoulder. At the beckoning look in her eyes, he bent down lower over Cole’s back, bracing on his hands so he didn’t crush them both. She kissed him, too, sucking on his tongue until he thrust deeper, fighting through Cole’s body to get closer to her.

Shuddering, Cole pushed back against him, taking him to the hilt on a low whimper that made sweat bead on Arthur’s brow.
Control. Slow. I’m a man not an animal.
“Am I hurting you too much?”

“Never,” Cole panted. “I love it.”

She dug her nails into Arthur’s buttocks, drawing his attention to her face. “I want to hear him scream.”

Involuntarily, he jerked back enough to make Cole writhe beneath him. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Arthur stared down at her, his stomach quivering so hard he was sure Cole must feel it. His hands clenched on the bedding, his blood thumping a frantic cadence in his head. It’d be so easy to rock and thrust and slam himself over and over, lost in the heat in her eyes. But he held on to the last corner of sanity, afraid he’d lose himself for all time.

“Where’s my stallion, Arthur? Where’s the man who fucked me senseless in the dirt today? That’s who we want in this bed, this and every night. We want you, the full you, burning with unbridled need for us.” She reached up and grabbed enough of his hair to force him back down so she could lick his ear. “Fuck Cole, and through him, fuck me too.”

Something snapped in his head. With just a few dirty words, she’d managed to slip off the bridle and muzzle he’d slapped on himself. Wildfire poured through him, igniting with his desire to create the very detonation that Cole had threatened. Rearing back, he shoved himself deep with a guttural roar.

Cole’s back bowed on a ragged cry, involuntarily driving him deeper into her. Arthur thrust again, again, unable to stop, mesmerized by the way they both squirmed and cried beneath his thrusts. He wasn’t inside her, but he could feel her through Cole, could feel Cole surging into her with his every thrust.
I truly am fucking them both.

And the sounds that Cole made… Alone, Arthur might have hesitated, afraid the man was in pain, but he trusted her to stop him if he was too rough. She’d already managed to stand up to him alone and keep the stallion in line. For once in his life, he simply let go and thrust as hard and deep as he could, not caring about his size, how heavy he might be, whether he was giving pain.

They want me, this way, exactly as I am.

He didn’t remember climaxing, not exactly. It was more like falling, an endless tumble from a height so great that it didn’t matter how long he fell. It was going to kill him, so he might as well enjoy the journey. Somehow he ended on his side by a sweaty and disheveled Cole, who nuzzled into him like a warm kitten. In a haze, he felt the bed dip, heard the splashing of water, and then felt her cool hand on his brow. She cleaned them both. The high and mighty Duchess, wiping her men.

Here, he held no title, no command. He was still her stallion whether she wielded the whip or not. She’d broken him to her will and he’d die trying to please her. She’d already given him the impossible.

She gave me the ability to be myself.

He felt like crying again, like that first night in the stable with Cole. But this time, it was tears of such heart-soaring emotion that joy and love failed to describe it. She slipped into bed behind him and stroked his hair while making some low sweet murmur in his ear. He had no idea what she said. He couldn’t understand the words. He didn’t need words.

She held him. He held Cole. And they drifted into peaceful slumber together.

Chapter Nineteen

Dressed in full regimental regalia, Lady Blackmyre knelt with her new husband before Queen Majel. She tapped them both on the shoulder with a heavy ceremonial blade. “Lady Blackmyre, Lord Wellington, rise and lead us to victory as Field Marshals of my Britannian Army.”

Taking Arthur’s hand in hers, Violet stood. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Long live the Queen!”

The wedding party roared with approval. So many people had attended despite the hasty arrangements that the doors were flung open and the crowd spilled out around the small building. The Wellesleys had even arranged for the modest event to be broadcasted across Londonium. Violet allowed it, if only to make Arthur happy by attempting to get along with his grandmother.

Wellington actually dabbed at her eyes and beamed with approval. Never mind that she’d threatened to refuse the marriage until Majel’s bribes were revealed. Now House Wellington’s continuation was assured, and Arthur had accomplished something no other man had done in generations.

He held the highest military command in the formidable Britannian Army.

Queen Majel held out the traditional ceremonial baton tipped in gold that the Field Marshal always carried. Suddenly queasy, Violet tried to decide how best to proceed without alienating the most powerful lady in the known universe while not dishonoring her newly minted, extremely proud husband.

When Majel shifted to point the golden tip at Arthur, Violet fought to keep her shoulders stiff instead of drooping with relief. “Lord Wellington, I hear that you will be taking position at the Iberian front, while Lady Blackmyre supports you from
HMS Dreadnought
. Therefore I believe it only fitting for you to bear the baton into war.”