Lynne Connolly (9 page)

My petticoat slid to the floor with a solid
thump,
leaving me in stomacher, under-petticoats, hoop and shift. He dealt with the last petticoat before he spoke again. “Something more specific. The Drurys.”

I frowned. “They’re a threat to him?”

“Oh yes. You know that infernal club they’ve set up in Maiden Lane?”

I recalled it. “The Cytherean Club?”

“That’s the one. They’re filling it with notable members these days.” A chuckle. “In more ways than one. They specialise in debauchery, particularly of the bondage and punishment kind. Some people like it.” I recalled an incident with silk cravats and fichus in our own personal history and shivered. His voice lowered. “As do we, on occasion. But not in the demeaning way they practice it. Many of their activities are conducted with others looking on.”

It passed my understanding how people could engage in personal discourse with an audience. Perhaps I was just naïve, but I wanted Richard all to myself. Our personal life would remain just that.

“So there are witnesses. And some of Pitt’s allies are enjoying the Drurys’ hospitality. Julia Drury has always had ideas about control.” He made a sound of disgust. Julia was probably one of the coldest people I’d ever met, and it went far beneath the surface. Richard’s cool, cynical veneer was just that—a veneer. Not so Julia’s.

“She wants to control more than her father’s fortune. I wonder just how much of that fortune is left,” he mused, his fingers stilling on the strings of my hoop. “That aspect never occurred to me before, but with her father retired to the country and her husband’s lack of business acumen, they must be going through it at a fair rate. I shall certainly look into that.”

He resumed his actions, his agile fingers making swift work of my remaining clothing. “Pitt wants me to look into the club. Join it, in fact.” His lip curled. “Not likely. But I know they have been making inroads recently, gaining more influential members. And at the moment Pitt needs all the support he can get. In the next few years it will be either him or Fox. Or maybe both. I’d prefer both, there would be more of a balance, but I fear Pitt has outgrown his erstwhile ally. It may be as well. The next leader will probably take us to war, and the country needs a strong, determined man.”

“What of Hartington?” This was an interesting time in politics. With the death of Henry Pelham-Holles, the alliance between him and his brother, the Duke of Newcastle, had ended. Now different parties were jockeying for position in the Lords and the Commons. Our neighbour in Derbyshire, Lord Hartington and his father, the Duke of Devonshire, bade fair to control the Lords, but Fox and Pitt were still fighting it out in the Commons. Any advantage, in or out of the House was a great victory, and Thompson’s would be a jewel in the crown of either party.

“Hartington will soon be Devonshire. His father is, I fear, too ill to recover this time.” Richard had me almost naked now, standing before him in shift and stockings. I determined to redress the balance and fingered the buttons on his waistcoat. He smiled and watched me, his hands resting on my waist. “I will investigate the Cytherean Club, but for our own sake rather than anyone else’s.”

“You will join?” I hated to think of him in that place, although I knew he had indulged in that and similar activities in the past.

“I will make enquiries. However, I promise—”

I laid my finger over his lips to prevent him speaking. “You don’t have to promise me anything, because I know.” He wouldn’t betray me or what we shared.

He kissed my fingers and drew back a little. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

I moved closer to him, felt the smooth silk of his waistcoat under my cheek. “Soon.”

He chuckled. “My love, you’re shameless.”

“Hardly. And in any case, you like me that way.”

“I adore you any way.”

I loved the flame burning deep in his eyes, demonstrating his desire for me.

Then I decided it was time Richard showed some flesh and pushed his waistcoat off his shoulders. He released me long enough to let it fall. That was my declaration of intent. The neckcloth came next, and he drew the long strip of fine fabric through his hands, watching me closely. I swallowed. I wasn’t sure what he had in mind, but I had some ideas, and if they matched his, gentle lovemaking would be off the cards this afternoon.

He looked at me from under half-closed lids, his eyes glittering dangerously. “You should be careful, sweetheart. Open Pandora’s box and you never know what you’ll find.” He laid the cloth over the end of the bed, its careful placement a suggestion. It was enough, and he knew it. Under my petticoat and shift, my cleft dampened. I pressed my thighs together to bring some sensation to the bud of passion now blooming and wet, yearning for his touch. He paused in the act of undoing his sleeve buttons, growled low in his throat, an animalistic sound that sent my arousal into
presto tempo.

Richard made short work of his shirt, loosening the ties and buttons and dragging it off over his head. I loved his chest, strong with muscle and sinew, and now I flattened my hands against it, enjoying the warm flesh and his heart throbbing under my palm.

“This is supposed to be my rest,” I said, my voice coming out huskier than I’d planned. A pathetic attempt at a tease, but all I could manage just now.

“My lady, I guarantee you’ll rest well. But not just yet.” He gripped my stays and pulled open the first few hooks at the front. My breasts spilled into his hands, and he pushed my shift down to bare them completely before he bent his head to feast.

His attack made me gasp and my head went back, but I didn’t lose my balance, because he had his arm around my waist, holding me safe. A long, succulent draw of his mouth and then another reduced me to the consistency of jelly. I reached out blindly, finding his shoulders, but he pulled away and his feverish expression told me he was as aroused as I was. He dragged me close, took my mouth in a devouring kiss, plunging his tongue deep to take possession.

Sometimes I took control of our lovemaking. This would not be one of those times.

He tore his mouth away and I caught a glimpse of his face, his cheekbones flushed, his eyes bright with desire. He stole another kiss before he spun me around to face the bed. The neckcloth disappeared from my view and then his arms came around my waist, one hand gripping the cloth. He moved close, his body heating mine, the bulge of his arousal pushing against our clothes to press against my lower back. “Lift your arms, my sweet.”

When I obeyed him, he grasped my wrists and bound the cloth around them, crossing the cloth between my hands and then fastening them to the carved bedpost. A bulbous swelling on the furniture prevented me moving my hands down. I was helpless under his ministrations, and I felt the first trickle of desire anoint my leg.

I turned my head so I could look over my shoulder. He grinned at me and bent to unfasten his shoes and drag off his hose. He stood and deliberately put his hands on his breeches, making me watch as he unfastened the fall and let them drop. He tugged his underwear down and kicked out of the garments. Totally naked, he stepped forward and pressed his hands against my back, smoothing them down.

“So lovely. I’ve a mind to keep you here for the rest of the day, waiting for my pleasure. I’ll go to the coffeehouses, knowing you’re here, waiting for me, unable to do anything else but think about what I can give you, if I’ll give it to you when I come home.” He dropped a kiss between my shoulder blades, and his tongue flicked against my skin. I gave a low moan and gripped the bedpost. The thought of waiting here, his willing slave, gave me visions of life in a harem, nothing to do but serve my lord. While it wouldn’t be an existence I’d welcome in real life, the fantasy heated my blood.

He trailed his tongue down my spine, and I couldn’t repress my shivers. My shift hung loosely around my waist, but it didn’t give Richard pause. He rucked up my skirts, delving beneath, and palmed my buttocks, lifting and massaging them while I pleaded with him to do more, to touch me between my legs. His finger brushed over my clitoris but passed on, and I wailed my displeasure, but he laughed and touched me, again skimming past.

“Richard, please!”

“Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want me to do, show me and I’ll do it. Maybe.” That last purred word nearly undid me completely. My cleft throbbed for him, needing his touch.

I had gone well beyond shame. “Touch me. Push deep inside. Love me.”

“I’ll take you when I think you’re ready. Are you ready, Rose?”

“Yes.”

He touched me then, took my clitoris between thumb and finger and pinched. Thrills shot through me, radiating right through my body from where his fingers manipulated my flesh. I jerked and shouted his name, begging him to do more, arching my back so my shoulders met his chest, now dampened with sweat. “You feel so wet, sweetheart, so hot. Do you think you can take me if I rip your skirts away and plunge in deep? Right now?”

“Yes, yes, I can, anything!”

He chuckled, a low rumble in his throat, and he slid his hand, along my intimate crease, and pushed inside with one finger. He moved it around, finding my most sensitive spot with an unerring knowledge. Our lovemaking only improved the more we discovered about each others’ bodies. If I trusted him, if I gave him complete mastery over me, he only made it better for me. I glanced at my hands. My knuckles had turned white with the pressure I was exerting on them.

A shimmer of cooler air skimmed my body as he swept up my shift and moved closer. I didn’t expect him to lift me, his erection hard against my back, but I understood when I felt something under my feet—most likely the footstool I kept by the bed. Dear God, the man knew his way around me. I clutched the bedpost frantically, wanting nothing more than his skin under my hands, not cold, polished wood.

I had my reward when he stepped back far enough to ensure his next movement brought his shaft inside me. Only breaching the opening, and then with one deep thrust, he found his way inside. His body plastered to mine, he began a rhythmic series of drives. They sent me wild. Just a few touches against the spot he’d already made sensitive by touching it and I pulsed around him, the waves spreading through my body, freezing me in place. I wasn’t aware of crying his name, but I must have done, because he growled against my neck. “Yes, that’s it, remember who I am. Never forget.”

I laughed, my body shaky from my climax, but he didn’t relent. His lips took my shoulder, sucked and then released, and I rejoiced to know he’d marked me. He licked the spot, put one hand under my chin to turn my head so he could kiss my mouth. I had to bend a little, which made me thrust my hips into the welcome bowl of his groin and gain a deeper connection between us. He kissed me, muffled my cries when my body convulsed again, but this time he joined me. He pulled away to suck in air, gasping my name in a breathless fashion that threatened to make me come undone all over again.

Afterwards, he unfastened my wrists, but that took a little time, as I’d tightened the knot by straining against it.

He finished undressing me and lifted me on to the bed. I crawled up and got between the sheets, while Richard brought a clean shift to me and tenderly helped me put it on, as gentle now as he’d been violently passionate a moment before. I snuggled into his arms when he joined me.

“I’ll stay with you until you sleep,” he said, “then I’ll go to the clubs. Maybe I’ll stop at White’s and check on the gossip and the books. See if Pitt has been there first.”

Recalled to our predicament, I sighed, and he smoothed the hair back from my brow, dislodging a few pins. I thought I’d left them all at the end of the bed, but Richard ran his fingers through my locks and found a few more. Nichols would have conniptions when I asked her to put it back in order. Or maybe not. Maybe she’d just sigh as she picked up the brush. My hair was particularly unruly and it took a genius like Nichols to manage it.

I rested against him, enjoying the warmth of his body enclosing mine until he said, “Pitt wants to know more about the Cytherean Club because some of his allies are using it. He knows I can get servants into the establishment. He doesn’t know they’re already there because he hasn’t guessed at the extent of our organization. He’s worried that Julia will have more power than she should have, and I’d guess that her influence is showing already.”

“Hmm.” I stroked his chest, letting my palm rest over his left nipple. “But if we give him what he wants, he’ll ask for more favours.”

He sighed and nodded. “Pitt is as ruthless with his network as we are with ours. If we do him this favour, we have to do it in such a way that he doesn’t discover just what we can do, if we put a mind to it. Just like Fielding, he has his own order of business. I don’t want Thompson’s in the hands of either of them.”

“Neither do I. But it won’t end here. They’ll continue to ask.”

“I know.” He searched my face, and his features relaxed. He bent to kiss me, and I willingly returned the favour. He rolled on to his side and gathered me into his arms, holding me close when he released me.

“Do you think John will cause any serious trouble?” I asked.

I hated that telling moment of doubt, one he’d never show to anyone else. “I will take great care to ensure he does not. The boy is presumptuous and impulsive, his weakest points. And his temper, which he inherited from me, I fear, might prove his undoing. But where I have control over mine, he has yet to master his.”