Diana’s soft hand touched his shoulder as she buckled a thick leather collar around his throat and attached a leash. As she bent to fasten the buckle, she licked his open lips.
“I like you hard, Mr. Maclean. You are so wet and desperate too.”
She waited patiently with the end of the leash wrapped around one of her hands as the footmen released him from the manacles. His arse was stinging, but the thought of being led around like a dog and forced to service the Demons brought him some dark perverse satisfaction. He was just something for them to use, a hole for their cock to penetrate without resistance. There was nothing he could do to stop them, so he simply had to endure. He’d stay hard for his lady and damn them all.
As he obeyed the jerk on his leash and crawled toward the dining table, he kept his gaze on the floor. Would Harry give him the letters his wife had purportedly written if Alistair completed this task and wiped out the thousand-pound debt? Did he dare look up and see if his brother was actually there?
The end of the leash snapped against his already tender buttock.
“Mr. Maclean? I believe Mr. Partington wishes you to suck his cock.”
Eventually even the Demon court had enough of him. As the first rays of dawn filtered through the black curtains, Alistair was sprawled naked on his stomach on the rug in front of the fire. Someone had decided to leave him tied up so his ankles and wrists were manacled together in the small of his back putting far too much pressure on his cock.
But he didn’t care. He’d retreated to the place in his head where he could accept anything and enjoy it—a peaceful haven where he lived for the pain and the pleasure. It was a place most people would never be able to understand. What kind of man thrived on being used or being owned? What kind of man craved being hurt and humiliated?
The soft rustle of petticoats reached him, followed by the lavender scent he associated with Charlotte.
“Mr. Maclean?” Diana whispered.
He groaned as his ankles and wrists were released from the ropes, but the two women were already rubbing his limbs, bringing both warmth and movement back into them. Eventually he was rolled onto his back. His beaten arse protested, but merely added to the high whine of pain that somehow also soothed him.
“Alistair.” Diana cupped his chin.
He licked his lips and realized the ring had also been removed from his mouth at some point.
“Where’s Harry?” he croaked.
“He’s safe. Charlotte has gone to find your clothes, and we have a carriage awaiting us outside.”
“Don’t need . . . clothes.”
“A cloak, then.”
He forced himself to meet her gaze. “Need you.”
She swallowed hard and he thought he saw a glint of tears in her eyes, which confused him. “I promise I’m not leaving your side until I have you tucked up in your bed at the Sinners.”
“Not yet,” he whispered.
“What do you need?”
“Finish me.”
Her gaze dropped to the swell of his cock.
“I . . . don’t want to hurt you.”
“Wrap the leash around my balls and make me come hard for you.”
Her fingers trembled as she touched his unshaven cheek. “Are you sure?”
“I only want to come for you. Make me.”
She wrapped the end of the leash around her hand and looped it under his balls, bringing them up high under his shaft.
“Now make me come.”
He moaned as she grasped his cock with her leather-wrapped hand and started to move it up and down his oversensitive shaft.
“God, yes. I don’t know if I can come anymore, so sore now, so long since I came . . .” He was whispering, babbling, but he knew she would understand.
“You’ll do it for me right now.”
Her calm voice reached him, and he brought his hand up over her working fingers and began to move them more crudely.
“Need it like this . . . rough and hard.”
“I want to see you spill all over your stomach. Then I want to cover your nakedness in a cloak and take you home.” She tightened her grip. “Naked and dripping, Mr. Maclean. I could let anyone see you, touch you, let them fuck you again. I could get you hard again as we travel and make you beg.”
He shuddered so powerfully that he couldn’t stop, and then his come pumped from his cock in huge jets coating their fingers, his stomach, and the expensive rug he lay on. She leaned in and gathered him in her arms and held him as he continued to come, each violent motion making him shiver and hold on to her like a drowning man.
“Diana?”
Dimly he was aware of Charlotte’s voice, and then he was wrapped in a cloak and carried out to a waiting carriage. His head came to rest on Diana’s shoulder. She let him stay there as he struggled to keep awake and listen to the quiet conversation going on between the two women. He couldn’t think. His mind was still trapped in that place of pleasure and pain and not yet ready to deal with anything other than the basics of existence.
He yawned and couldn’t even raise the energy to cover his mouth. When the carriage stopped, he was again carried out and then up the stairs to his bedroom. He noticed it was the bearded man from the cage who held him so carefully.
“Dobbs,” he said faintly.
“That’s right, sir. Now you bide quiet like, sir, and I’ll have you between these sheets in no time at all.”
“Thank you.”
He wondered what Dobbs thought of having to carry a naked man stinking of sex to bed. Had he watched at the Demons, or was he considered too low to be admitted to the inner sanctums of the club? He’d know if he ever met the man again. Such knowledge would distort a saint’s perception of him, and Dobbs was just a man. . . . Although a man who had been forced to suck cock himself might have more sympathy for Alistair than he might have imagined.
“There you go, sir. You rest now.”
“Thank you.”
Diana appeared behind Dobbs’s shoulder, her expression stricken. He tried to smile at her.
“I’m quite all right, my lady. I just need to sleep.”
She sat down on the side of the bed and took his hand. “Don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of you.”
“You always do.”
A maid brought a bowl of scented water, and Alistair lay quietly as Diana carefully washed him and then pulled the covers up to cover his nakedness.
“Charlotte brought your clothes. I’ll leave them on the chair,” Diana said as she unfolded a piece of paper. “The Demon Club left this on top of the pile.” She showed him the document, which had “paid in full” scrawled over the original debt amount and four signatures.
“Give it to Harry.”
Her expression hardened. “He doesn’t deserve such consideration.”
Alistair swallowed hard. “Please give it to him. He . . . should give you something in return.”
Her grip on his hand tightened. “Is that why you were there? To retrieve the list? Oh, Alistair, why didn’t you
tell
anyone?”
“I didn’t intend to go.”
“I thought, we
all
thought you’d gone to clear your name because Harry had forged your signature on the debt.”
“I’m not that much of a fool. I went because Harry intimated that someone I . . . cared about was on that list.”
“Who?”
“My wife’s father.”
“But surely you would’ve recognized his name immediately, or did you simply not tell Mr. Fisher the truth from the outset?”
“No!”
He took a weary breath. “The man recently inherited a title from a distant relative. I was unaware that he had succeeded to the earldom until my brother pointed it out. I was concerned about what Harry would do with that information, and agreed to meet him.”
“Without telling anyone.” She sighed. “You insist I am the one who doesn’t trust people, but you are far worse.”
A faint thread of annoyance stirred in his gut. “Why were you there?”
“Because Charlotte asked me to accompany her.”
“To see my downfall?”
“No, because she believed she had finally found a way to trap your brother and make him pay for his crimes. She had no idea that you were going to turn up in his place.”
“You didn’t mention that to me.”
“When we last spoke, we were at odds with each other.”
“Yet you already knew you were going. Charlotte must have come to the Sinners to ask for your help.”
“She did.”
“But you didn’t tell me, so I assume you knew what she planned and thought it best if I remained in ignorance of your plot.”
“It was Charlotte and Sir Ronald’s plot. Not mine.”
He closed his eyes against the flare of indignation in hers. “I did what I thought was right to aid the Sinners.”
“No, Mr. Maclean. You did
exactly
what your brother wanted. You damn well walked into his trap and allowed him to escape his punishment. If you’d told Mr. Fisher about the threat to your father-in-law, he would’ve understood. He would not have expected you to put yourself in danger for a man who gives you nothing but trouble!”
“Why are you so angry with me when you went there yourself?”
She eased her hand away from his. “If you don’t know that, Mr. Maclean, you are a fool.”
“Because I am your property?”
“Because I—” She sighed. “Because
I
am a fool.”
Despite his best efforts to open them and concentrate on the betraying quiver in her voice, his eyes stayed closed. He felt the mattress shift as she stood up.
“Don’t . . . go.”
“I promised you I would stay and I will do so. We can speak again in the morning.”
“Thank you.” The effort to say the words almost drained him. “Don’t be angry with me.”
She sighed. “I’m angry because you put yourself in an intolerable situation for that rat of a brother of yours. I’m angry because you are an honorable, wonderful
idiot
. . . Now go to sleep before I forget that you need your rest and beat you myself.”
He was asleep before his mind caught up with the puzzling complexity of her words, and for once he was grateful.
21
“A
listair said that Harry blackmailed him into attending the Demon Club.” Diana sat on the chair in front of Adam Fisher, who wasn’t looking his usual smiling self.
“How?” Adam leaned forward, his hands folded together on the desk.
“By threatening the family of Mr. Maclean’s late wife. Apparently, the father inherited an English title against the odds, and Mr. Maclean wasn’t aware of it. The father was on the list.”
“Why didn’t he
tell
me this?”
“I asked him the same question. He managed to evade answering it by wondering why I was at the club.”
Adam shoved a hand through his hair. “You are both as bad as each other. I know you left messages for me with Maddon, but still. What possessed you both to go running headfirst into that den of iniquity?”
Diana shrugged. “Loyalty, I suppose. I went to support Charlotte, and Mr. Maclean to safeguard the reputation of his dead wife’s family.”
“I’d forgotten Alistair was even married.”
“When did his wife die?”
“About six years ago, I think. She died in childbirth.”
“He never speaks of her.”
Adam cast her a rather too astute glance. “I know nothing about the marriage except those two facts.”
“Why would you think I wish to know more?”
“Because by all accounts, you were the one leading Mr. Maclean around on a leash last night at the Demon Club, which suggests to me that you know him rather well.”
“I did what was necessary to protect him from those animals.”
“Because you already know his limits?”
“Yes.”
Adam raised an eyebrow. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I have no issue with you having a relationship with Alistair Maclean.”
Diana forced a smile. “I wouldn’t worry about that too much, Mr. Fisher. One way or another, we will not be together for much longer.”
Adam looked past her to the open door. “Ah, Mr. Maclean. Do come in and please sit down.”
Diana waited as Alistair brought another chair over and positioned it next to hers. He looked pale but resolute, and his movements were rather careful. Had he heard her last comment about the approaching end of their relationship? There was no sign that he had, but that meant nothing. He was a master at hiding his emotions. As soon as the matter of Harry Maclean was dealt with, she would seek out the Earl of Westbrook and speak to him about her future. After that . . .
Alistair nodded to Diana and then fixed his attention on Adam, who was displaying more of his steel than she had ever seen before.
“Mr. Fisher, I apologize for not giving you more notice of my intent to attend the Demon Club last night. By the time my brother sent his message, you had already left the Sinners.”
“I still don’t understand why you felt it was imperative to go to the Demon Club. We had a copy of the list. All you had to do was ask Maddon for my exact whereabouts and we could’ve settled things between us quite easily.”
“I thought I could deal with the matter without bothering you, sir.”
“Obviously.”
Alistair visibly gathered himself. “Do you have my brother in your safekeeping?”
“Yes.”
“I . . . would like to see him.”
“And why is that, Mr. Maclean? Do you hope to set him free?”
“I can understand why you might doubt my loyalty, Mr. Fisher, but there are good reasons why I need to speak to him.”
“Which are?”
Alistair set his jaw. “He claimed to have other incriminating documents to use against me personally, sir. If they exist, I would like to have them in my possession.”
“What kind of documents?”
“Letters of support for the Stuart cause.”
“Written by you?”
“No, sir. By my wife.” He raised his head to meet Adam’s hard gaze. “I went to the Demon Club to tell Harry that we had a copy of the list, and that nothing he said would make me give him any more money. He told me that my wife was the Stuart sympathizer, and that he had additional evidence to prove it.” He let out a breath. “I stayed to cancel out the debt and hoped that Harry would give me the letters she wrote entrusting him with money for the cause. I couldn’t allow him to destroy my wife’s memory.”
“Ah.”
Silence fell in the office. Diana had an overwhelming urge to reach over and take Alistair’s hand.
Adam stood up and came around to Alistair, who had also risen.
“Let me take you to your brother.”
Alistair followed Adam and two of the footmen down to the basement of the Sinners, into the cavernous wine cellars, and the specially fortified cells beyond the wine racks. A single guard sat outside one of the locked doors reading a book by lamplight. He immediately stood up when he saw them coming, his pistol at the ready.
“Mr. Fisher. Mr. Maclean.”
“Open the door, please, Reading, let Mr. Maclean in, and lock the door behind him.” Adam consulted his watch and then nodded at Alistair. “You have fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you.”
Alistair stepped into the cell and heard the door shut behind him. Harry was sitting cross-legged on the narrow bed contemplating the thin stream of light coming through the barred upper window. He looked a little tired and his clothing was rumpled, but there were no signs of strain or anguish on his face.
“Alistair! To the rescue, of course.”
“I haven’t come to save you.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course you have. You’re my big brother. It’s practically your duty to get me out of scrapes.”
“You call stealing information from the government a scrape?”
Harry shrugged. “I needed money. You wouldn’t give me any. I did what was necessary to survive.” His lip curled. “No one except you would blame me.”
“I paid off your debt at the Demon Club.”
“So I saw.” Harry’s smile was smug, but enough to put Alistair on guard.
“Then I would like you to return my wife’s letters.” Alistair held out his hand. “Surely it is a fair trade?”
Harry patted his black silk waistcoat. “I’m not sure I have them on me.”
“You had them last night.”
“And I had plenty of time to dispose of them while you were in the cage.”
Alistair turned toward the door. “Then we have nothing more to say to each other.”
“Wait!”
He looked back over his shoulder as his brother’s most charming smile emerged. “Don’t be so hasty, Alistair.”
“Either give me the letters or I’ll go.”
“And leave me here to rot?”
“You’ve always been so theatrical, Harry. You aren’t going to die here. The Sinners is a government-sponsored endeavor. They’ll try you quite legally. Now, do you have the letters or not?”
“No, damn you!”
Alistair knocked on the door. “Good-bye, Harry.”
“You can’t leave me! You’re my brother. You owe me your loyalty!”
“Not anymore.”
The door opened, and Alistair stepped out and kept moving past the guard and the silent figure of Adam Fisher. He walked up the stairs to the ground floor and then to his office, where he closed the door and sat at his desk, his hands clasped tightly in front of him.
His blotting pad wavered and blurred as he fought to control a wave of anguish. Images of Harry as a child, as a young man as . . . his best friend in the world streamed through his mind and fell as tears with a steady
drip-drip
. He had to rip himself free of this never-ending cycle of hope followed by despair, but it was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do in his life.
“Alistair.”
He jumped as a soft hand touched the back of his bowed head and then turned blindly to seek the comfort being offered to him. With a soft sound, Diana wrapped her arms around him and held him to her bosom.
“I . . . failed him.”
“No, he failed you.” She stroked his hair. “He doesn’t deserve your love and your loyalty.”
“He said she was in love with him, that she was carrying his child when she died.”
“Your wife was?”
“Aye.”
“My poor, dear man.” She hesitated. “He was probably lying to enrage you, or force you to support him.”
“No, he was probably right. He could never bear for me to have anything he didn’t. It would’ve amused him to seduce Gelis and take her from me. And I damn well
knew
something was wrong between us, that her pregnancy was mathematically impossible, but like a blind fool I simply went along with it because to believe anything else would’ve destroyed my sense of control, of my stupid sense of
worth
.”
“I’m so sorry, Alistair.”
He forced himself to take a deep breath and pull away from her. “Harry said he didn’t have the letters with him. Could you ask Mr. Fisher if he can ascertain if that is true? Otherwise, he hid them at the Demon Club or gave them into someone’s keeping.”
She perched on the edge of his desk and considered him. “Is it imperative that you retrieve these letters?”
“I would feel better if I knew they had been burned.”
“Then I’ll make sure your brother doesn’t have a scrap of paper concealed anywhere on his person, and if that fails, I’ll ask Charlotte to search the Demon Club.”
“Thank you.” He forced a smile. “I should get back to work.”
“Not quite yet.”
He put down his pen and slowly raised his head.
Still sitting on the edge of his desk, she raised her slippered foot and rested it on the front of his trousers. “You are supposed to be always hard for me.”
“You can hardly expect me to—”
She pressed down on his cock and balls. “Be quiet, Mr. Maclean.”
“I don’t want—” His breath hissed out and his cock stiffened beneath her probing toes.
“I want you hard. Unbutton your trousers and make yourself ready.” She slid a hand into his hair and shoved his head down to stare at his lap. “Do it.”
“The door . . .”
“Is unlocked and will remain so.” She removed her foot. “Get on with it, Mr. Maclean. I’m waiting.”
He undid the buttons with fingers that shook, aware that his cock was already erect, as if all the emotional turmoil in his soul was pumping down into it.
“Pull down your trousers and underthings to your knees so that I can see you properly and spread your knees.”
He obeyed because she was giving him purpose and he needed something . . . needed this more than he needed to breathe.
“Now wrap one of your hands around the base of your shaft and pleasure yourself while I watch.”
He drew his cock away from his stomach and did as she said, his fingers soon moving easily through his own wetness.
“That’s better, Mr. Maclean.” She rested her feet on the very edge of his chair and leaned forward to watch him work his length through his fingers. “Slow down, I don’t wish you to come yet.”
The normal sounds of the Sinners faded as he concentrated on his cock, on the dangerous rise of his pleasure, and on Diana’s keen gaze. After a while she gripped the arms of his chair, bringing her head down close to his now aching shaft.
“Mmm . . .” She blew on him and he shuddered. “Is your arse still sore? I enjoyed whipping you yesterday. Did you enjoy it too?”
He nodded as she glanced up at him, but he kept his mouth shut.
“I placed each stroke very precisely. Did you notice that? Can you feel each individual welt throbbing now in time to your cock stroking? I do hope you can.”
He gripped his slippery cock, his hips rolling into the motion as he watched the very tip of her tongue emerge and hover over the slit of his crown. But however he moved she wouldn’t close the tiny space between them and lick him. He tried harder, planting his feet on the floor so that he could bring his arse off the seat, which only added to the ache of each welt as he flexed his muscles.
“You’re close to coming, aren’t you?”
He fought to breathe and could only moan as she sat up and stared into his face.
“Take your hand away, and rearrange your clothing over that big hard cock of yours.”
She held his gaze as he silently screamed a denial, releasing his eager flesh and carefully, very carefully, pushing his stiff, unwieldy shaft back against his belly and inside his underthings and trousers.
“That’s better.” She slid down from her perch. “Now you can get on with your work.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Blindly, he searched for his pen, his heart pounding along with the pulse in his cock.
“I’ll go and speak to Mr. Fisher, and then, depending on what he says, I might need to write a note to Charlotte to search at the Demons.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“I’ll report back to you as soon as I can.”
“Thank you.”
She walked out, leaving him with the monstrous bulge of his cock tenting his trousers and his mind curiously calm. At least he had something else to think about other than his brother’s treachery. And with his emotions harnessed and owned, he was certainly less likely to harm anyone else. When she returned he’d still be hard. He knew she’d check.
He let out a long, shuddering breath. How had she known how to deal with him? Making him obey her had somehow given him back control of his emotions . . .
There was a slight tap on the inner door and Adam came into his office. Alistair shoved his chair closer to his desk to conceal his lap.
“We’ll be moving your brother into a more secure holding place today.”
Alistair looked up at his employer. “What do you think will happen to him?”
“He admitted he stole the list and the two men he tried to blackmail have confessed to offering him money, so there is clear evidence against him. He’ll be tried and sentenced by the judicial system in as private a setting as we can manage. There won’t be any publicity about the case, I can assure you of that.”
“I don’t care for myself, but my mother would be . . . mortified. She has already suffered enough betrayal in her life.” Alistair forced himself to continue. “What if he is convicted?”