Temptation (16 page)

When he had finished, he stood back and looked at her, his naked body standing proud in the early morning sunshine. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Let me go.” Secretly she did not want him to let her go. Secretly she wanted to stay tied up like that, powerless to resist him. The thought that he could do whatever he wanted to her and she would not be able to resist him made her prickle with wet between her legs. She wanted him to take her like that, to thrust his cock into her while she lay helpless, unable to prevent him…

“I can’t do that. Not yet.”

“What are you going to do to me?” She didn’t need to ask, but she wanted to hear him say it out aloud. She wanted to hear the words on his lips.

“Nothing that you don’t want me to do.”

“I
want
you to let me go,” she lied, as convincingly as she could.

“You will be begging me to make love to you before I am done with you.”

She would stay tied up for a week before she humbled herself in front of him. “I will never beg you. Never. I would rather die.”

His only answer was a grin, a look of truly devilish delight. “I consider that a challenge. I’m a soldier. I love challenges.”

Dr. Hyde was not rostered on duty at the hospital the next morning. The matron on the wards gave Lenora a suspicious glare when told the matter was urgent. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

Lenora stood her ground. When matters called for it, she had a backbone of steel and nerves of iron. She could outface even the scariest matron when the safety of her best friend was at stake.

Five minutes later she was back on the street, the direction to Dr. Hyde’s lodgings clasped tightly in her hand.

He lived in handsome lodgings close by St. Thomas’s. A maid opened the door and ushered her into a pretty parlor as Lenora explained the urgency of her message. There she sat, twisting her hands together and staring at the flocked wallpaper as she waited for him to make his appearance.

It seemed an age before he strode into the parlor. The room seemed to shrink to half its size when he came in. He was so strong, so male. His hair was so freshly washed and combed it was still wet, and he was still buttoning his shirtsleeves. “What is it, Miss Coppins? Has something happened at the hospital?”

She gulped. Seeing him in his shirtsleeves was so intimate. Almost wifely. She had to look away until he had shrugged on his jacket. “No, everything is fine there. It’s Beatrice.”

His eyes took on a guarded look. “Well?” he demanded, when she did not immediately start speaking again.

Now that Dr. Hyde was standing in front of her, she did not know quite how to tell him. “I think she is in some kind of trouble.”

While she was speaking his face had turned an interesting shade of pale. “Trouble? What sort of trouble do you mean?”

“She did not come home last night. I know something bad must have happened to her because she is always at home by ten o’clock at the latest. She is not the sort of girl…not the sort of girl who…”

“Did she give you no indication of where she was?”

“I told Mrs. Bettina that Beatrice was missing, but she told me not to worry.” Now that she had found her voice she could not stop talking. “She said that the sergeant-major she looks after had said something about Captain Carterton preparing a surprise for Beatrice this weekend, and not to worry if we didn’t see her until Monday. But Beatrice mentioned nothing to me about being away, and she was due to start work this morning. It didn’t seem right to me. Not when she and you…”

Her voice finally trailed off in embarrassment. It was harder than she thought telling Dr. Hyde all she knew. What if he were to blame Beatrice for the situation? But no, he was a fair man. He would not harbor a grudge, or blame Beatrice for something that was not her fault. “I thought I’d better come to you and tell you what had happened. I knew that you’d know what to do.”

The longer she spoke, the more agitated he became. “You have done right to fetch me,” he said, when she eventually ran out of breath. “You say that one of the patients at the hospital knows what might have happened?”

“I should have stopped by and asked him when I was at the hospital, but I didn’t think of it,” Lenora confessed. “I only thought of finding you as soon as I could.”

“Walk back with me. We shall go and interrogate the sergeant-major together.”

Lenora fell into step beside him on the street. With his coat and hat on, and carrying a cane in his free hand, he was every inch the gentleman.

If she had been the woman lucky enough to engage his attention, she would have fought to the death rather than allow herself to be taken away by another man. But Beatrice did not yearn for Dr. Hyde as she did. Nobody could yearn for Dr. Hyde as earnestly as she did. Beatrice did not burn in the night for the touch of the doctor’s hands on her body, or spend her daytime hours dreaming about the feel of his lips on hers.

No, Lenora feared that Beatrice burned for the touch of the captain instead.

Lenora waged a war within herself. Was it disloyal of her to her friend to hint to the doctor that maybe Beatrice did not love him as he deserved to be loved? She cared for Beatrice dearly, but was it quite fair to Dr. Hyde for Beatrice to marry him if she did not love him?

Even if Dr. Hyde adored Beatrice—and she could understand why he would—wouldn’t it be better for him to wait until he found a woman who really cared for him in return? Wouldn’t it be better for Beatrice, too, to marry a man she truly wanted?

Lenora did not harbor any illusion that the doctor would turn to her for consolation if Beatrice were to leave him. She was plain-featured, not pretty like Beatrice was. Her mouth was too wide, and her hair was far too red. Her hips were too plump and her bosom was ridiculously generous. She was too earthy to be any man’s ideal wife.

No, Dr. Hyde would never love her as she loved him. But there were other women in the world who might love him as much as he deserved, even if they couldn’t love him quite as much as she did.

In the end, she decided it would be wisest to hold her tongue. If Dr. Hyde had not worked out for himself that Beatrice did not really care for him, she did not want to be the bearer of bad news. Worse still, Dr. Hyde might think she spoke out of jealousy and not out of love for both of them. She could not bear for him to think badly of her.

She would have to stand by watching and waiting, and hope that no lives—not Beatrice’s, not Dr. Hyde’s, and not her own—were ruined in the muddle.

Beatrice lay tied on the bed as the Captain walked around her, just looking at her.

“Your nightgown is bunched up underneath you. You would be more comfortable if I were to take it off.”

She stayed silent, trying not to look at him too obviously. She’d not seen him naked before, and he was well worth a second look. His chest was broad and strong, and his arms were tanned a golden brown from the South African sun. His thighs were thick and strong, his buttocks were firm but full, and his member stood up proudly from its nest of curls. If her hands had been free, she would have wanted to touch it.

“I shall take your silence as consent,” he said easily. Bending over her, he took the edges of her nightgown in his hands and pulled.

The fabric ripped all the way to her neck with a screech. He pulled the torn pieces from under her and tossed them on to the floor. “I trust that is more comfortable?”

He made her feel as though she was spread out like a meal on a table, waiting to be feasted upon. How could any woman be comfortable tied up to the bedposts with a man staring at her as if he wanted to eat her. She merely looked at him without bothering to answer.

It would be easier to deal with him if only she did not want him so much. If she was indifferent to his touch, she could shut him out of her mind and pretend he did not exist, whatever he did to her. But she was not indifferent. And she could not ignore him.

“I never heated you any water for washing last night,” he continued in a conversational tone. “I shall have to remedy that lack right away.”

Still stark naked, he strode out of the bedroom. She could hear the sound of a match being struck and water being poured into a kettle.

Before long, he was back in the room with a large basin of steaming water and a washcloth. “I’m afraid I cannot untie you and allow you to wash yourself, but you will find that I make a good body servant.”

Setting the basin of water down on the floor, he dipped the washcloth in it and brought it to her body. The water was pleasantly warm against her skin and she gave a little shiver as the drops ran down her body.

“Is it too cold?” he asked solicitously, as he ran the washcloth over her stomach. “Shall I heat the water a little more?”

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” she muttered, in a desperate attempt to stave off the temptation of giving in to him, of letting him love her just this once and to hell with any possible consequences.

He gave her a wide-eyed look of mock innocence. “You prefer being dirty?”

“That is not what I meant,” she wailed. “You always twist my words around to suit yourself. Of course I do not want to be dirty.”

“Then lie still and let me wash you.”

“Do I have any other option?”

He stood back and looked at her again. “No, I’m afraid you don’t.”

It was actually quite pleasant having him attend to her just as she attended to her patients. If she could overlook the fact that her nurse was both naked and obviously male she might even have enjoyed it. But her nerve endings were on edge. Every stroke of the washcloth felt like a caress. He made her feel as though he were not washing her, but loving her.

By the time he put down the washcloth and proclaimed himself satisfied with her state of cleanliness, she was shaking. He had touched her everywhere, everywhere, on the pretext of washing her, and she could not stop him.

She needed him so badly she was almost ready to give in to his demands. If only he would simply take her, and not bother to ask. Then she would not, could not deny him. “Untie me,” she begged.

He put the washcloth back in the basin and sat down next to her on the bed. With his good arm, he reached over and lightly stroked one of her breasts. “Will you marry me?”

“I cannot marry you. Marriage is forever. I do not know you well enough to tie my future to yours.”

“By the end of the day you will know me very well indeed, I promise you. Will you agree to marry me then?”

“No.” She almost screamed the word in her frustration. “You cannot expect it of me.”

“Then I’m afraid I cannot untie you just yet.” He moved his hand to stroke between her thighs. “And I’m not sure you really want me to untie you. You like being at my mercy. Feel how wet you are here.”

“I am not,” she protested. “You are imagining it.” But she knew she was wet. She could feel her juices slowly oozing out of her body and onto the sheet underneath her. If she were to move, there would be a damp stain beneath her.

“Not wet?” He swung his legs onto the bed and came to kneel between her legs at the foot of the bed. Then he bent his head until she could feel his breath on her pussy. “You are sopping wet, my love,” he informed her. “Positively dripping. Here, shall I show you?” With that, he slid one of his fingers right into her and drew it out again.

She shut her eyes, not wanting to see the evidence of her desire glistening on his fingers.

That did not stop him. He drew his finger across her stomach, leaving a trail as he went. “See?” he whispered, though her eyes were still shut tight.

“I think you want me to taste you again. I think you want me to lick you down there, and make you even wetter. Is that what you want?”

There was nothing left in her to say no, but her mouth refused to frame a yes. All she could do was give the tiniest of nods.

He saw it, as she knew he would. He bent his head again, and blew gently on her pussy. The air was cold where she was wet and she shivered.

He leaned in closer, just touching her with the tip of his tongue.

The sensation was too much for her composure. She arched her back and screamed, not sure if she wanted him to continue or to stop.

“Do you want to taste me, too?” Without even waiting for an answer, he moved his body until they were top and tailing.

She did want to taste him, but his cock bobbed just out of reach of her mouth. “Come closer,” she murmured.

“Ah, so the lady has a tongue after all,” he teased her. “What did you say? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Come closer,” she repeated, no louder than before.

Obligingly he moved closer so she could move her head up and take him into her mouth.

She wanted to hold him, to look at him, to examine him, to run her hand up and down him, but having him in her mouth came a pretty close second. She could not see him, but she could examine him with her tongue, feeling each ridge and hollow of his shaft, luxuriating in the smoothness of the engorged head, and tasting the salty drop that leaked out at the very tip.

In return he was exploring her in the same way, until she felt as if she would die of the twin delight of both giving and receiving pleasure.

It was not long before she felt her need start to peak. He was going to give her pleasure, just as he had in the hansom cab. Her breath grew short and her whole body stilled as she felt her orgasm approach.

Right at the critical moment, he drew his head away from her. She made a muffled noise of protest, but she could not stop him.

“I don’t think I will let you come just yet,” he said, as he moved to straddle her. “Not until you give me what I want in return.”

“You can’t stop now,” she protested. Her whole body felt bereft. Her pleasure was so close, and yet so impossibly far away now.

“
I
am not going to stop.
I
am going to come. And you are going to watch me.” With that, he took his cock in his hand and started to stroke it.

She could only watch him helplessly as he pumped himself slowly at first, and then harder and harder.

She could only watch helplessly as he shut his eyes, threw his head back, and took in a deep shuddering breath.

She could only watch as his cock erupted with his seed, spurting it all over her stomach and her breasts.

He milked himself of everything that was in him with a shudder of delight as she watched him, hating him and wanting him in equal measure.

With a groan of utter satisfaction, he lay down next to her, idly rubbing his come over her skin. “What a mess I have made,” he murmured softly. “I shall have to give you another bath.”

Lenora followed Dr. Hyde as he strode into the sergeant-major’s private room. “I believe you might know something of the whereabouts of my fiancée, Miss Clemens,” the doctor said without preamble. It was not a question. “She has gone missing.”

The sergeant-major shrugged, unperturbed at having his peace disturbed so early in the morning and with such abruptness. “Your fiancée? May I be the first to offer you my congratulations on your engagement.”

A hint of red tinged the doctor’s cheek. “Miss Clemens has not officially agreed to marry me yet, but I am expecting an answer in the affirmative.”

The sergeant-major stroked his moustaches thoughtfully. “I see. And if I do know where she is?”

Dr. Hyde muttered something highly uncomplimentary under his breath about soldiers in general and this soldier in particular. “Then I would be obliged if you would tell me where she is without delay.”

“Why?”

Dr. Hyde looked him square in the eye. “So I can go find her and bring her home.”

The sergeant-major was silent for a moment. Lenora was just about to add her own pleas to Dr. Hyde’s command when he spoke. “I believe she is with Captain Carterton at a cottage in Brighton. I have the direction if you want it. But I would suggest caution. You might not like what you find there.”

Dr. Hyde’s lip curled. “Though I am not a soldier,” he spoke the word with disdain, “I’m sure I will be able to handle whatever I see. I’m not afraid of any man. The direction, if you please.”

With a face that spoke of his deep unease, the sergeant-major rattled off the direction. “Do not underestimate the captain,” he added. “Or you may well regret it.”

Dr. Hyde gave him a terse nod, turned on his heel, and left without another word.

Lenora stayed just long enough to whisper some thanks to the old soldier in the bed and then she scurried after the doctor.

“I have hired a hackney cab to get us there.” Dr. Hyde’s voice was terse. “It will take several hours by road.”

“Us?” She had done her duty by telling him. What else could he possibly need her for?

“I will need you to come with me. Miss Clemens may need you. You will help to safeguard her reputation on the journey home.”

And who would safeguard her reputation on the journey to Brighton? she thought, with a touch of irritation. Dr. Hyde was not usually so blind to the proprieties.

“You will be the perfect chaperone. After all, who could suspect
you
of doing anything that was not perfectly appropriate,” he added.

The warmth and approbation in his voice was all it took for her irritation to melt away like butter under a hot sun. Of course she would go with him to rescue Beatrice. For him, she would do anything.

If Beatrice had thought the first time the captain bathed her was a torment, the second time was a million times worse. He lingered over her body, smoothing the washcloth over her then covering the part he had washed with kisses.

From her toes to her thighs, her fingers to her shoulders, and her neck to her stomach, no part of her escaped his attention. Except the part she wanted him to touch most. He scrupulously avoided touching her there.

It wasn’t fair. He had orgasmed all over her, his hot seed covering her body, and she was left on fire, still wanting.

“I must be clean enough to eat dinner off,” she grumbled, hiding her arousal behind a show of irritation.

“Now there’s an idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Don’t be silly. And please, take these ties off me. I am getting a cramp.”

“Just a little longer. A very little longer.” He took up the washcloth for the last time and drew it gently between her legs. The rough fabric clutched at her sensitive skin, and she arched her back with a cry.

“You’re almost ready to beg me, aren’t you?” he murmured, as he took the washcloth away and replaced it with his mouth, licking her folds lovingly.

She
was
almost ready to beg him. “Undo me. Please,” she said, as he flicked her nub with the tip of his tongue. She could not take much more of his torment.

Then his finger was inside her and she moaned aloud. “Yes, please.”

“This isn’t the only place a man can take a woman,” he said conversationally, as he plunged his finger inside her and drew it our again. He drew it down her privates until it rested against her back passage. “A man can take a woman here, too. Like this.” He pushed gently, and the tip of his finger slipped inside her ass. “Would you like me to take you there, Beatrice? Would you like to feel my cock in your ass?”

His finger felt huge inside her. “It would never fit,” she panted, feeling her body stretch to accommodate him.

“Oh, I think it would.” As he spoke, he pushed his finger inside her further. “I might have to push hard, but you would take all of me eventually. The whole length of my cock. You’ve made me hard again just thinking about it.”

He withdrew his finger and pushed it in again, bringing her to a fever pitch of excitement. “Would you like me to fuck you there? In that forbidden place? I could come in there like I came on your breasts.”

She would let him fuck her there, anywhere, so long as he made her come. She could not bear it if he found pleasure in her body and allowed her none in return. “Untie me,” she cried, thrusting against his hand. “Please, untie me.”

At last he took notice of her pleas. Leaving her panting with need, he reached out and snapped the thin silk of her ties one by one. “Get on your hands and knees, Beatrice.”

Her body was free, but her mind was still in thrall to him. Clumsily, she got to her hands and knees as he ordered her to do. Mindless with desire, she had no will of her own left anymore.

He spread her legs apart and bent his head to the cleft between her thighs. He was going to torment her again, and not let her come. “No, please,” she sobbed into the pillows. “I cannot take any more.”

He took no notice of her protests, instead licking her with a long slow caress of his tongue over her swollen lips. The wetness of him, the softness of his tongue tantalized her beyond bearing. He could have brought her to orgasm a thousand times by now if he had been kind, but he refused to do so. He only wanted to tease her, torment her until she could not breathe.