My Lady Notorious (23 page)

He led the way up two flights of stairs and opened the baize-covered
door into a quiet, dusty passageway. “I thought so. Nursery wing. And
long unused.”

In this quiet corner the orgy below might as well not exist. It was
cold, though, and even within his coat, Chastity shivered. He checked
the four rooms, then indicated one. This had probably been the nurse’s
room, for it had a narrow bed with a blanket and quilt still on it.

He placed the basket on the floor and checked the fireplace.
“There’s kindling still here and a few coals in the scuttle. Perhaps we
can have a fire.”

Chastity put the candle on the floor, its light meager even in the
small room. She hugged herself in his coat, drowning in the faint aroma
that was Cyn, but beginning to have doubts. What was Lady Chastity Ware
doing in this dusty room with this man? How had her life led to this
moment?

There were some mouse-nibbled books on a shelf, and he tore them up
to start the blaze, then applied the candle. Flames leaped up, then the
dry twigs crackled. Chastity moved instinctively closer to the fire.

He looked up. “I think it will catch, and the chimney seems clear. It will be a while, though, before it gives much warmth.”

“At least there’s light.” The room already seemed cozier for the fire.

He pulled the mattress, blanket, and quilt off the bed and laid the
mattress on the floor. He spread the blanket over it and bowed with
courtly elegance. “Your couch, my lady.”

Chastity acknowledged that once she sat on the mattress her fate was
sealed. She subsided onto it in a swirl of silken, perfumed skirts. And
a certain amount of dust.

He brought the basket to put on the floor before sitting beside her and spreading the quilt over their legs.

She pulled his coat close around her shoulders. “Aren’t you cold in shirtsleeves?”

He gave her a slanting look. “Not in the slightest.”

Chastity looked away. His expression had just raised her temperature a good few degrees.

He poured wine and passed her a glass. She sipped it, feeling it
spread warmth throughout her, feeling it immediately weave up into her
brain. She expected him to leap on her at any moment and wished he
would, before her nerve failed. “I really do need to eat,” she said
quickly.

“Or you’ll be drunk?” he murmured. “Perhaps I want you drunk, sweeting.”

She glanced at him through the slits of her mask and put down the
glass. “Do you think you need to get me sozzled to have your way,
milord?”

His lips twisted. “No. That would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it?” He
reached out and traced her lips, a touch that burned. His voice was
seductive as he said, “Did your nurse ever tell you not to play with
your food?” He took a slice of beef and slowly rolled it. “Now, what
does this remind you of?”

Chastity frowned over it. “A roll of beef?”

He considered it. “Too small? You’re doubtless right.” He rolled two
more slices around it and showed it to her. “Is that more to your
taste?”

He put the meat into her left hand, grasped her right and guided it to his crotch. “What do you think?”

Chastity froze.
Eating, again
. But she was supposed to be a
wanton and had to behave like one. She smiled as best she could. “It
seems about right,” she said in a strangled voice. In fact, it still
seemed too small. Were all men enormous down there?

“Eat then,” he said softly.

Chastity would as willingly have eaten a snake, but she had no
choice. She licked her lips, brought the meat to her mouth, and bit.
The bulge under her hand leaped as if she’d bitten into it. She
concentrated ferociously on chewing the tender meat. What would a whore
do now?

She tried to move her right hand, but he held her there. “I would like some wine,” she said.

He used his free hand to pick up her glass and raise it to her lips.
When she had drunk, he leaned over to taste the drops still lingering
on her lips, the bulge moving like a live thing under her captive hand.
Then he too drank from the glass.

“Eat,” he said softly. “You’ll need your strength.”

Chastity was in a daze. She’d expected to be grabbed, kissed,
fondled, and entered. She hadn’t been sure she would like it, just that
it was something she had to do. She certainly hadn’t expected she would
have to do anything other than submit.

He was clearly ready for her, so why the delay? She dropped the half-eaten meat. “I think I’ve had enough.”

“But you’re a lady of ferocious appetites. Perhaps you have a sweet
tooth.” He moved to reach for the pies and cream, which meant he had to
release her hand. Chastity sidled a few inches away, and the key inside
her stomacher pressed on her ribs. She suspected it would prove an
embarrassment very soon, and quickly fished it out and popped it under
the mattress.

Cyn was contemplating a pie thoughtfully and Chastity guessed what
was to come. Seduction with food seemed to be his preferred technique.
An effective one, too. Because of their previous encounters, she was
already sensitized. All the confused longing created by a Shrewsbury
biscuit and an apple tart returned to swell the tangled longing she
felt now.

He bit into the pie, and crimson juice spurted onto his hand. “Cherry,” he said with a grin. “How appropriate.”

He moved the pie to his other hand and held the juicy one out to
her. Obeying the silent command, Chastity licked the juice. It was
sweet and tart, with the salt of his skin to add savor. The sleek flesh
of his hand ran against her tongue. She placed her mouth over his flesh
and sucked.

He gently disengaged his hand and held out the pie. “Eat.”

Chastity took a bite. Juice ran again. He angled the pastry and the
juice ran onto her breasts. She squeaked and raised her hands to
protect the gown, but he captured them and tumbled her backward.

He used his tongue to clean off every trace.

She lay there entrapped by strange desires.

Clever fingers unhooked the gown, untied the laces of the stomacher,
and cast it aside. Chastity lay beneath him in her filmy silk chemise
and petticoat, her gown open. She wondered if he found her lacking.

A look at his face told her he did not. He was flushed and
dark-eyed, entranced, as his fingers traced the swell of her breasts.
Rapturous power swelled in her. “Do I please you, milord?” she murmured.

“You are beautiful, as you know.” His voice was scarcely as loud as a whisper.

His hand went to her mask-strings, but she caught it. “No! I remain masked.”

“Is your reputation so precious, then?”

“It is to me.”

He ran a thumb over her cheek along the edge of the black velvet. “Am I to be trusted with a name?”

“No,” she whispered, “but you may call me Chloe.”

“Chloe, is it? Will you laugh at my pain?” Softly he quoted, “‘Kiss
me, Dear, before my dying; Kiss me once, and ease my pain.’ ”

His lips came down hot on hers. Sweet heaven, she’d give anything to
ease a pain of his. Tears swelled in her eyes and she thanked the mask
that hid them.

Suddenly he left her. She sat up, afraid that in some way she had
displeased him, but he had picked up the pot of whipped cream. With a
smile and a twitch of his eyebrows, he took a dollop and dropped it in
her cleavage.

Chastity looked down and gaped. He pushed her back and spread the
cream over the upper swell of her breasts. Then she felt him ease away
the chemise and knew she was bare, felt more cream land and be spread.

She waited, breathless, for his mouth. Instead a finger swept across
her breasts and was presented before her eyes. “Eat. You are hungry.”

Chastity didn’t have to part her lips for her mouth was still open
in shock. She flicked out her tongue and took a little of the cream. It
was flavored with orange liqueur. “It’s very good,” she whispered. “We
really shouldn’t waste it.”

He smiled. “We’re not going to waste it.” He slowly sucked the rest
of the cream off his finger, then gathered more and presented it to her
again. “Take it all this time, sweet Chloe. All.”

Trapped by his eyes, Chastity took his finger into her mouth,
tasting the cream, slick, cool, and rich. She swallowed. When she would
have let his finger go, he said, “No. Keep it. Suck on it. Nice and
slow…”

His head lowered and he licked some cream from her breasts in a long sweep. Dreamlike, Chastity kept sucking on his finger.

She felt his tongue swirl around first one nipple, then the other,
and caught her breath at the sweetness of that sensation. His tongue
tickled the tip of each one. “Ah, my beauties,” he murmured, “you envy
my finger, don’t you?”

Chastity abruptly stilled her mouth.

He leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth and abraded it
with his tongue. A thrill shot through Chastity and she did the same to
his finger.

“That’s right, sweeting,” he said softly. “Show me what you want.”

Chastity waited for what he would do next. He did nothing. Then she
understood him. Tentatively, she sucked his finger. He sucked her
nipple. She sucked harder. He matched it. It became strangely as if she
pleasured herself. She sucked deep and slow, feeling a fever grow and
burn in her.

A throbbing started between her legs and she stirred restlessly. She
heard whimpering sounds and realized they were coming from herself. And
faith, neither of them was truly undressed yet!

He moved on top of her and rubbed against her. It helped a little,
but not a great deal. Desperate, she drew his finger deep into her
mouth, but he laughed and dragged it free.

“Sweet heaven, Chloe. One of us will draw blood at that rate. Here, undress me.”

To Chastity’s amazement he stood and seemed to expect her to do
exactly that. She lay for a moment, fevered with lust, thinking he’d
have to change his mind. Wasn’t he as desperate with need as she?
Apparently not. Dizzy, and throbbing, she struggled to her feet. She
looked down at herself. Her open gown hung from her shoulders and from
the waist up she was all stained milk, cream, and bare skin. She
hitched the chemise up again over her breasts.

She worked at the buttons on his long waistcoat, her fingers
unsteady and clumsy, her nerves burningly aware of his body. She gave
up halfway and splayed her hands over his chest, looking for help to
his shadowed, intent face.

Thinking to urge him, she reached up to kiss him.

His lips played against hers, but then he drew back. “The sooner you’re done, sweeting, the sooner we can progress.”

The fever lessened a little, though Chastity could have wept to see
it go. What crazy game was this? She began to be afraid that he was
intent on torturing her, and that they never would make love.

She finished the buttons with great speed. As she unfastened the
lowest one, she felt the rigid hardness of him. That reassured her a
little. He needed a woman— needed her. She remembered how it had been
when she’d been unknotting those laces. Hesitantly she pressed and
stroked.

He caught his breath. “Depends whether you want this fast or slow, Chloe.”

Chastity had no way of knowing. She took her hand away.

“Ah,” he said on a long out breath. “
Une connaisseüse
. I expected nothing less.”

His tone jarred, but this was all turning out to be other than
Chastity had expected, so why should his attitude surprise her? She
pulled his shirt out from his waistband and eased it up over his chest.
She found she loved running her hands up the silky muscles. She paused
to circle them there, almost in a trance.

He pulled out of the sleeves himself and worked it over his head.

Chastity ran a finger down the livid scar that slashed across him. “How did you get this?” A woman would be bound to ask.

“A saber. At Quebec.”

“It must have bled a lot.”

“Like a slashed wineskin. Ruined my best uniform.”

Chastity was swamped by memories, bittersweet. She knew it wasn’t
supposed to be like this between them, but this was the best they could
hope for.

She looked down at her breasts, her bare breasts, still streaked
with cream. She gathered the last of the cream and spread it gently
down his scar. Then she licked it away. She could see and feel the
depth of his breathing, though he stood quite still.

The bulge in his breeches pushed against her belly.

“Come on, Chloe,” he said sharply. “Slow is one thing, but if you drag this out much longer you’ll waste my attributes.”

Chastity jerked under his tone and quickly unfastened the buttons in
both his breeches and his drawers. Grasping her courage, she pushed
them both down. His penis sprang free against her.

She grabbed it with both hands.

A moment later she didn’t know why. Perhaps it was an attempt to
control the thing, but now she had it throbbing in her hands, and no
idea what to do with it.

With unsteady lightness, he said, “Kiss it and it’ll be very nice to you.”

She looked at the moist tip then up at him, wide-eyed. He shook his
head and peeled her fingers away. She was glad to let go. He quickly
stripped out of his netherwear and stockings until he stood
magnificently naked.

Chastity stared her fill. There was only the slightest glossing of
softness to Cyn Malloren. He was all taut, beautiful muscle. Reality
faded. Her disguise, her masquerading as a whore, her past and future,
all became shadows. There was only herself, and Cyn, and this moment.

She gasped when he caught her chin and forced her eyes to meet his.
“I need facts, sweet Chloe. You’re not as experienced in all this as
you try to pretend, are you?”

Chastity wanted to lie, for fear that he’d throw her out, and go seek one such as Sable, but he demanded truth. “No,” she said.

He nodded and took a steadying breath. “Now this is important, and if you lie to me, I swear I’ll beat you. Are you a virgin?”