Reason to Wed (The Distinguished Rogues Book 7) Page 10

Esme watched her friend saunter out then braced herself. She was not so undone by her desires to let a man, and everyone else in the room, see she was as close to being out of control as it was possible to be.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” he said softly as he took Harriet’s place at her side.

  Her thoughts were filled with his gasps and moans and the intensity of his lovemaking. She swallowed down her panic. She did not want to need Richard like this. They had no future together, but as soon as she saw him her thoughts quickly plotted out how to drag him off to a quiet room and make mad, passionate love. “I was thinking of this morning.”

  “What a wonderful coincidence. So was I.” He studied the clock over the mantelpiece, the tip of his tongue resting on his upper lip momentarily. “Care for another?”

  Her pussy clenched in memory of what that tongue could make her feel. “I do owe you for this morning.”

  “I thought to wait until tonight.” The corners of his mouth lifted into a wicked smile as he held her gaze. “I would be so happy if you could indulge me particularly tonight in something a little unusual.”

  Esme nodded eagerly, though a little frightened by how her feelings had changed for him. A week ago she would have laughed at the idea that she looked forward to being intimate with Windermere. Now, she couldn’t wait to strip him of every piece of clothing he possessed. Even a few minutes’ wait suddenly seemed an eternity until he touched her. Esme slipped her hand over his thigh and squeezed. “Yes.”

  “Thank you.” He stared at where her hand rested and she jerked it back, astonished by what she’d done in public. They did not ordinarily touch where anyone could see such caresses. Esme preferred discretion in her lovers. In herself too. A hand held to exit a carriage or to dance was far different from groping his thigh in front of his guests. Heated glances were normally the only outward display of emotion she allowed herself in public.

  “I think we should slip away sooner than later.” He met her gaze and exhaled slowly. “Meet me outside my study on the terrace in five minutes. There are a few things we will need.”

  “Anything you wish.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” When he excused himself after a long interval of silence, Esme was glad to see him go. She was embarrassed, and she hadn’t felt this unbalanced for a long time. Had she ever felt this way for a lover?

  Esme slowed her breathing deliberately in an attempt to regain control. She had a few minutes to wait and then she could escape into his arms. She frowned. Since when had she ever fallen apart when a man so much as suggested a tryst? She did not need men in her life. She chose to have them for the fun of it. Making love to Richard was exciting but all too addictive. To her chagrin, they were as well-matched out of bed as in it, of late.

  There hadn’t been anything to disagree about since their first night together, actually.

  As the clock reached the appointed moment, Esme all but flew out of her seat, hurried along to his study, and let herself into the poorly lit room. Richard stood in the open doorway, lantern and burlap sack stacked at his feet. He picked up a cloak—her own, she discovered—and dressed her in it. “The woods can be cold. I hope you don’t mind riding at night.”

  “No, of course not,” she whispered, picking up on the tension in his voice.

  He took her hand in his and before she could draw back, he bound her wrists together firmly. She tested her bonds. “I see the reason behind your questions now.”

  He led her toward the stables by the dangling end of rope without a word and when they reached the dark structure, the unlikely figure of Oswin holding two saddled horses appeared from the shadows.

  The butler bowed formally. “Good evening, my lady.”

  If the butler thought it odd she was bound and being led around, he said and did nothing to suggest it. “Oswin.”

  Oswin held the bridle of her mare as Windermere lifted her into the sidesaddle and made sure she was secure in her stirrups. He gave her the reins to hold, and then mounted his own horse, settling his sack on his lap before he took her horse’s bridle from Oswin.

  The butler backed away, taking the lantern with him.

  “I’ll lead you,” Richard insisted.

  Esme sighed. “I can ride on my own, even with my hands bound like this.”

  “Would you rather be put over my lap on the saddle?”

  She gaped. “Windermere, what’s got into you?”

  “You…and there’s only one thing left to do about you.” He shook his head. “No more talking until we’re away from the house.”

  Fourteen

  Richard rode directly into the woodland enclosure and dismounted his horse, running through the litany for the night ahead. He could still feel the touch of Esme’s hand on his thigh from the drawing room. He was ready for her, so hard that riding had been a painful experience he never wanted to repeat.

  He turned his attention to the woman he’d abducted. So far, she’d barely complained about his silence and treatment. He expected her to have a lot to say soon when he threw her over his shoulder for the climb up the mount.

  She didn’t appear to like being helpless.

  Neither did he like to make her so, but if he was going to do this, he had to do it all more or less properly.

  He approached her, grasped her about the waist and deposited her outside the gate of the enclosure with perfunctory care. The histories expected him to bend his bride to his will. He wanted to kiss Esme witless instead.

  He tended their horses with brisk efficiency and then faced her. Esme, however, had wandered away, staring up at the dark canopy overhead, her demeanor calm and unruffled by his behavior. Richard gritted his teeth for the next part and pursued her. He hoisted her over his shoulder before she realized his intent. Her shriek of shock echoed in the night. “Fight me all you want but it must be this way.”

  He grappled with the sack while she struggled to regain her freedom.

  “This is ridiculous,” she complained.

  He was not supposed to react to pleas for mercy. He was supposed to be a bloody tyrant about this abduction and force her to go with him by any means.

  He gritted his teeth against softening. He’d decided to give the family tradition this one chance to be proven false. He might never get another chance for months, so it was tonight or never.

  He made the trek uphill as best he could, her complaints ringing in his ears and turning them pink. At the point where she’d begun repeating herself, he’d already reached the high lookout, a break in the woodland that afforded the best views for miles around. The place was lit by moonlight almost as clearly as it would be on a summer’s morning.

  Three large stones had been placed around the base of a tree that had once thrived, although now resembled a weathered stump. Roughly six feet from the base, an iron spike had been hammered into the wood.

  And that was where he took Esme and secured her so she couldn’t get away.

  She blew out a breath, moving her fallen hair from her eyes. “I could have walked,” she told him, her tone full of sarcasm.

  He couldn’t have her too angry, so he gently smoothed her hair back from her face until it was neat. “Then where would be the fun in seeing me sweat?”

  Her gaze raked him. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I want to and because I must.” He kissed her, cupping her face and devoured the mouth that had just flayed his manhood, his honor, his character on the long walk up the mountainside.

  He stood back eventually, leaving her panting and still bound. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly and he bared them to the evening air, grateful for the front fastenings on her gown. Her nipples hardened as the cooler air hit them and he played with one. “You are so beautiful. Everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman.”

  A soft gasp left her lips as he tugged harder.

  “Even when you’re angry with me, I can still affect you.” He bent his head and licked her nipple before taking the tip into his mouth and su
cking for a while.

  Esme whimpered when he eased back and he blew over the tip lightly, torturing her. He could do that as long as she enjoyed it. She thrashed against her restraints, no doubt seeking to escape her bonds to hold his head to her breast, the way she’d shown him she preferred in the past days.

  He turned away to rummage through the sack instead. A bottle of brandy, a fine glass wrapped in silk, a phallus made in the image of his manhood, and a soft wool blanket to wrap her in afterward.

  Next, he stripped. He removed everything he wore and laid it aside in a neat pile, everything except the ring bearing the family crest that always graced his left hand.

  He poured the brandy and took the glass to her. “Drink.”

  To his surprise, she obeyed, her expression full of questions. He refilled the glass and turned it so he’d place his lips exactly where hers had been. He downed the lot quickly, hating the taste. However, the ritual demanded this particular elixir as the accompaniment.

  Not for the first time did he wonder if his ancestors had drugged all their brides and themselves to get through this night.

  He wouldn’t do that to Esme. One glass for each of them would have to be sufficient.

  He put the glass aside, and lifted his cravat from his pile of clothes. He ran the fabric through his hands and then tied the stark white linen around her tiny waist. He stood back and then paced the circle, first clockwise then turned back time by walking in another direction.

  He felt utterly ridiculous.

  When he was directly behind her back, he danced a few stumbling steps of a country dance.

  “Richard,” Esme called, her tone full of exasperation. “Come back and kiss me.”

  He rushed to her, eager to answer her summons. Richard pressed his hips against hers. “My darling Esme.”

  He kissed her, dragged her gown up her slim legs so they were skin to skin from the waist down. Despite being bound and essentially his prisoner, Esme made her desire abundantly clear in the way she pressed her body to his.

  He caught one of her thighs and she jumped to wrap her legs about his waist, arms still secured above her head. She flexed her body so her quim rubbed against his hard cock. He caught her legs and shifted each so her feet rested on rocks placed to either side of the stump. Positioned in this manner she was entirely open to him, entirely helpless.

  She braced herself against the tree trunk and took in what he’d done. Her gown rested on the top of her thighs and he nudged it higher still, baring her quim.

  “Oh, my word,” she whispered. “Am I your slave tonight?”

  He closed his eyes, feeling horrible and helpless, but unable to stop now he’d begun. He’d never expected to be as aroused by Esme like this as he was. He was desperate for her. “You belong to me.”

  Without the barrier of clothing or position in his path, he slid into her body effortlessly. A few thrusts and he was properly seated. Esme moaned darkly and sought his mouth for a kiss.

  In this, Esme’s satisfaction was supposed to come second, but he kissed and touched her, aroused her, and did all he could to make her respond as he claimed her.

  Beneath his grunts, Esme sighed and moaned, unwittingly encouraging him to continue. He held her face, fingers framing her jaw and holding her steady. Met her gaze as he ground into her. She came apart, shrieking his name like the wildest of woodland creatures.

  She sagged in her bonds, helpless but sated. “This was your fantasy all along. To have your way with me like this. That’s why you asked what I’d allow.”

  He slowed his thrusts. “It hadn’t been at first, but…”

  “I do trust you. I want you to come inside me like this,” she whispered. “I want you to have your darkest desires come true with me.”

  His body flooded with heat at her words. His desire to keep Esme in his life became a desperate, palpable need. He wanted to marry her. He pledged his heart and his soul to her keeping, and with his body, begged her own in return. He fucked her harder than ever and when he exploded so powerfully, he almost couldn’t breathe for the thrill of it.

  He told her the truth then. A truth he hadn’t realized until that moment he was so urgent to share.

  “I love you, Esme. I couldn’t ever want anyone the way I want you. Not like this. You’re mine and I’m yours. Completely and forever.”

  Fifteen

  Esme quickly shook off the happiness Richard’s declaration of love evoked. No man meant such a declaration so soon after climax, and she knew that all too well. However, her heart wasn’t listening to her head at the moment and rejoiced instead that Richard felt so much for her as to want to say such sweet and tender things.

  She flexed her fingers above her head where they were still tied. Her arms were beginning to ache from the position. The dead tree she was tied to was not at all comfortable either for her back. She hoped Richard’s fantasy, at least the part involving tying her up, was done with for tonight and he’d soon cut her down. She wanted to touch him so much.

  When she’d taken a moment to really look at and listen to Richard when they’d first arrived at the clearing, she’d understood he’d been very nervous about sharing so intimate a fantasy.

  It did seem a little out of character for him, but she hadn’t truly minded being bound. Restrained as if she were a barbarian’s conquest—stolen in the night as if she had no choice. She’d had a choice, and had chosen Richard. She did trust him and his fevered lovemaking had given her great pleasure in return.

  As he withdrew, she exhaled and placed her feet back on the ground. “Ah, that’s better.”

  He unhooked her hands and before she could take even one step, he lifted her into his arms and held her against his heaving chest as if he was still her master. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Of course not. I would have certainly mentioned any real discomfort.” He laid her out on a large rock that was still warm from the sun and lifted her skirts again. He untied the cravat around her waist and set it aside. She pushed at him, eager to be free to run her hands over his body too. “Let me up.”

  “I’m not done yet,” he warned.

  “Truly?” She frowned at him but reclined again. His cock was soft and he did not appear even a little amorous. “What else do you want to share with me?”

  He held up a dildo and kissed the tip. “This.”

  He spread her legs and gently invaded her with it. After so much pleasure from his cock, she shrunk away from the chilled intrusion. “That’s cold.”

  “Forgive me.” Next he bound her legs together at her knees with his cravat and pulled her skirt over her legs. He flung the blanket over her and stood back. “That’s it.”

  “Richard, I cannot walk like this.”

  “You’re not supposed to walk anywhere just yet.” He bit his lip. “We have to stay here a while longer.”

  She frowned at that. “But we are going back to the manor tonight,” she told him.

  “Yes, soon.”

  He left her there, hands bound, knees strapped together, an uncomfortable feeling growing inside her. This was not the man she’d come to know. Richard Hill, Earl of Windermere, was a gentleman to the tips of his perfectly polished hessians. A lion in the bedchamber, but not so perverse as to leave a woman in discomfort.

  Or so she had thought.

  He returned half dressed and watched her silently as he buttoned himself up in his clothing. There was a peace about him she’d not seen ever before. He appeared confident. Content. Pleased, when she was so helpless.

  She licked her lips to wet them. “How long have you wanted to bring a woman here?”

  “Not long,” he murmured, toying with a lock of her hair that spread out toward him. He sifted the strands between his fingers then carefully returned it to the rock she lay upon.

  “Why tonight?”

  He glanced up at the sky. “The moon is full and the house party is a success. I was confident everyone would be too busy to wonder where we had gone. It was the r
ight time.”

  “Oswin knows.”

  “And knows enough to keep his mouth shut about what we’re doing here,” he insisted.

  She glanced around them as fear crept into her thoughts. She twisted a little to take in her surroundings again. It was very strange to have a dildo inside her body without using it for pleasure, and they were very alone. “Will I be murdered next?”

  “That is what I thought you’d ask.” He chuckled softly then stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I’d never hurt you. I wouldn’t dare, and I don’t want to except for the occasional spanking you might require.”

  That wasn’t reassuring. She lifted her head and struggled. “I want to leave.”

  “As you wish.” He sighed and flung the blanket away, unbound her knees and then carefully removed the dildo. He flung it away, into the woods lying dark below them. “Is that better?”

  “Yes.” She eased off the rock and put a little distance between them, quickly buttoning the front of her gown so she was decent again. Her hair she couldn’t do much about but it was undoubtedly tangled.

  “Oh, you should see your face.” He laughed outright then, like a young man in love with his life and everything in it. “Come, come, Esme. Let us walk back to the horses arm in arm as the very good friends we are. I have what I want.”

  “What is it you wanted?”

  His laughter died. “Everything. To make love to you in the most significant way a man in my family could. Without doubt or holding back anything I was feeling.”

  When he stretched out his hand, she accepted it. Assured he wasn’t about to murder her, she drew close to him. He tucked her arm through his and led her toward the path he’d traversed carrying her over his shoulder. She’d been too wrapped up in scolding him to notice the terrain wasn’t smooth or even. Far fewer people went to the mount than must go to the woodland glade. She shivered, understanding the effort the trek must have required and impressed he’d carried her up the mount in the first place to save her the hardship.