Sacrifice (Fashionably Impure Book 3) (12 page)

Rebecca
smiled up at him and he leaned down and put his mouth to hers.

They
kissed for long moments. Lord Drake caressed his wife’s back and appeared in no
hurry.

That
surprised Miranda.

All
right, yes, she had truly expected him to push Rebecca to her knees and
commence immediately with the act. Quickly. Maybe even crudely. The way she’d
seen the noblemen do to the other courtesans at the orgies sometimes engaged in
at their balls and house parties.

It was
an act meant solely for a man’s pleasure and a man’s pleasure was to hurry,
wasn’t it?

However,
Drake touched his wife so gently, as though she were made of spun glass.

Heavens.
It was so fascinating.

Miranda
pressed her forehead to the glass and caressed her hand down its smoothness.

Drake
caressed Rebecca’s bottom then cupped her buttocks and pressed her closer.
Rebecca clutched his shoulders and bent slightly backwards as he deepened their
kiss.

Finally,
they broke the kiss. Drake took the belt of Rebecca’s wrapper and untied it
then he took the edges and pulled them apart before sliding them down her
shoulders. Rebecca’s bare skin glowed like pale porcelain in the firelight, her
small breasts appearing high and firm. A slim waist and flat stomach and softly
flaring hips. She possessed a surprisingly girlish figure for a woman of her
age.

Lord
Drake ran his large hands over his wife’s breasts, rubbing his palm over her
erect, bright pink nipples. After a while, he bent and took one into his mouth.
Rebecca stroked his coal-black hair then as he continued moving from one tip to
the other, she clutched his head with her own thrown back, her eyes closed.

With
Rebecca limp and moaning against him, Drake lifted his head then swung her up
into his arms. He carried her to a chaise in the center of the chamber and laid
her there. He glided his hand down her belly, slowly, oh so slowly then let his
fingers stray over her pale golden-brown mons. Rebecca arched into his touch,
her cry of pleasure loud enough to carry into Miranda’s antechamber.

Miranda
jumped back from the mirror, startled out of her transfixed state, blushing
hotly and feeling like an interloper. Drake kissed his wife’s stomach then
moved between her legs, his midnight dark head a sharp contrast to her
alabaster legs.

Rebecca
glanced away. She’d seen men pleasure women like this at the orgies.

It
seemed an eternity—the time Drake spent knelt there between Rebecca’s splayed
thighs, teasing her, pleasuring her.

The
intimacy was too intense; Miranda had to look away again. Rebecca’s
high-pitched moans brought her attention back to the other chamber. Drake
leaned over Rebecca, kissing her forehead whilst she lay panting beneath him,
her face flushed and her eyes still closed. He whispered something to her and
she smiled, opened her eyes and touched his face. He cupped a hand over her
diminutive breast and whispered to her again.

How
strange to see this side of Drake.

It
gave Miranda pause.

But
she had little time to think about it for in that moment Rebecca slid from the
chaise to kneel on the floor.

Miranda’s
heart began to pound.

Drake
unfastened his trousers and, in moments, Rebecca had her hand wrapped around
his rather large and erect cock.

He
caressed her hair, ran his fingertips over her cheek then traced the pad of his
thumb over her lower lip.

Rebecca
kissed the tip of his cock whilst moving her hand up and down his shaft.

Drake’s
jaw tightened.

Rebecca
opened her mouth wide and took him inside.

Miranda
caught her breath, with her heart pounding harder than ever, watching Rebecca
move back and forth on Drake, her cheeks drawn in. He caressed her hair, gazing
at her so raptly, his eyes glowing not just with lust and pleasure, but love.

Rebecca
took her husband deeply. Deeper than Miranda realized a woman did a man. Then
she let his organ slide from her mouth and stroked him with her hand, jerking
his shaft in deft, quick motions.

Drake
shouted her name then wrapped his hands into her hair, pulling her head back,
holding her in place.

Miranda’s
breath came rapidly, harshly. This part, this sudden roughness on his part
startled her back to awareness and she jumped back from the glass.

Her
legs shook and she stumbled back onto the settee. Oh God, she must turn away.
Now.

But
she forced herself to keep watching.

Drake
arched his hips and gripped his wife’s head tighter then he tensed. He groaned,
loudly, and his body shook and shook and shook. And Miranda realized that he
was spilling his seed into his wife’s mouth.

Now.

Yes,
now she looked away, her cheeks flushed hotly. She placed a hand to her wildly
leaping heart and swallowed against a slight rise of sickness.

She
could never do
that
.

When
she dared glance back at the other chamber, Rebecca had laid her head on
Drake’s thigh and he was caressing her head, whispering to her, his expression
full of satisfaction. And love.

A
sudden desire to see that expression on Adrian’s face seized Miranda’s whole
being. The desire was so strong that it was painful. She pressed her fist to
her lips and moaned.

She
would overcome her distaste for the act.

She
would experience giving Adrian this kind of intense, selfless pleasure. She
would overcome the terror that Winterton’s violence towards Mama had caused to
live in her heart.

****

The
next day, Drake left to visit the nearest village and did not return for
several days and so Miranda was saved the embarrassment of having to face him
again.

Rebecca
she could face.

But
not Drake.

She
had not imagined the reality of what playing voyeur with them would be like.

Now
Drake was home and she sat with him and Rebecca for supper. The children ate in
their nursery as usual.

“Lady
Danvers.” Drake’s slightly hoarse voice confronted her defenses.

It
would be beyond rude not to acknowledge him. Miranda glanced up.

His
dark blue eyes were full of kindness. Compassion.

It
shamed her efforts to avoid him. She forced herself to keep looking at him.

“It
was only sex. A most natural function and no cause for shame.”

She
nodded, her cheeks burning hotly.

He
couldn’t understand. It wasn’t the sexual aspect that embarrassed her so
deeply. It had been the invasion of another couple’s intense intimacy and
obvious love.

Yet,
Drake and Rebecca had allowed her to enter that circle of trust between them
and to gain a vision of what that feared act could really be like.

And
she wanted it to be like that for herself and Adrian.

Wanted
it desperately. Hungrily.

She
lowered her eyes to her teacup. “Thank you, my lord.”

Drake
chuckled, softly. “It was my pleasure, my lady.”

His
handsome face held a boyish charm. His expression was open, carefree. Warm.
Miranda could see, for the first time, how a woman as cheerful and open to life
as Rebecca could love such a man.

“Stephen,
please do not tease her,” Rebecca chided.

Miranda
raised her eyes again, determined to smile and pretend a sophistication she no
longer possessed.

But
Rebecca and Drake’s attention was all for each other. Their shared love brought
Miranda sudden, sharp awareness of how deeply she missed Adrian.

Tears
pricked her eyes and she clapped a hand to her mouth and had to flee the
chamber.

She
ran all the way outside to the gardens.

A
touch on her shoulder made her turn.

Drake’s
eyes were just as kind as just a few moments past.

His
presence startled her for she would have expected Rebecca to follow her, not
the baron. She stepped back.

“I
have welcome news for you, Lady Danvers.”

She
froze and placed her hand to her collarbone, not even daring to allow herself
to hope.

“Lord
Danvers has arrived in England. He shall be here soon.”

She
dropped her hand and cried out. With shock. With joy.

He
came closer. “Now don’t tell the boy, for Danvers may be delayed. But he is
here. And most eager to see you.”

She
sniffled and nodded then wiped her eyes with a swipe of her sleeve.

“Now
come, Lady Danvers, no more tears this evening. Come to the withdrawing
chamber, with me and my wife, and Davey and Becca and we all shall pass this
evening in a celebration. We will have some cakes and you ladies may play the
piano and we will all sing.”

She
nodded again.

He
grinned and offered his hand.

For the
first time, she felt her resentment towards him ease. She returned his smile
and took his hand and allowed him to lead her back into the house.

****

From
the tall, narrow windows that lined the withdrawing chamber, lightning flashed.
Davey lifted his brush from the watercolor he was working on. A fair yet
somewhat messy replica of the bowl of fruit that rested on the table. Miranda
was teaching him to paint and he seemed to have some talent for it.

He
counted aloud.

The
thunder rumbled through the old house. And he smiled. “Eight!”

The
storm was moving fast.

“It is
almost time for your lessons,” she reminded him for Drake had provided a tutor
and was personally paying that young man to come here and share their
isolation.

“I
want to continue painting.” He touched his brush to the canvas. “I like to
paint.”

She
walked to him and gave him a quick hug. “I know, my darling boy, but you must
also prepare yourself to one day go to university.”

He
frowned. “When will I go to university?”

She
hugged him again. “Not for years.”

He
grinned. “Then I have plenty of time to prepare.”

“There
is much for you to learn between now and then. Now go clean your brush and put
your materials away.”

He
sighed and complied. He had just laid the cloth over his easel and canvas when
the door to the chamber came open.

Miranda
turned.

A
tall, lean male figure stood in the doorway. Her gaze took in his coal-dark
hair and she met eyes of darkest sapphire.

She
caught her breath.

“Papa!
Papa!” Davey cried.

She
was frozen. But Davey ran to his father. Adrian knelt and embraced his son,
giving him a hearty kiss on his cheek. Davey laughed—a sound of pure joy.

Adrian
looked up and met Miranda’s eyes above Davey’s head.

He was
different.

His
eyes bore hardness—coldness she had never seen before.

A
chill passed through her.

Her
husband had left her a young man and he had returned… older. Silver threads
glinted in his dark as night hair. Lines of experience marked the corners of
his sensual mouth, giving his handsomeness a harsher edge.

He was
not exactly lean. He was
thin
. His elegant cheekbones made the hollows
in his cheeks more exaggerated. It brought home the reality that this man had
faced almost certain death and won.

But
won at a price.

Adrian
arose and approached Miranda.

Her
heart beat faster as elation tingled through her. Yet, she remained frozen and
had no idea why, she just kept staring at her husband, noting his changes and
unable to release the odd notion that here stood before her someone familiar
and dear and yet a stranger.

He pulled
her into his embrace then put his lips to hers. The same scent. The same taste.
His body was no stranger. She closed her eyes and drank him in. He pressed her
back with fierce hands. Finally, she had to break for air and pressed her hands
against his chest.

And
she could feel his bones, through his clothes.

She
caught her breath. Then met his eyes. There was a warning there.

Say
nothing yet
.

She
released her breath. “Please my lord, your son is here,” she said, to fill the
space, to keep from blurting all her questions.

Adrian
grinned, white teeth flashing against his sensual lips. “Davey should see how a
man properly greets his beloved wife.” He maintained one arm still about her
then turned back to Davey.