Authors: Kate Pearce
“I have something for you, Swanfield,” her father announced. “I found it in my study on my return from Knowles Hall. If you’ll both excuse me for a minute, I’ll go and fetch it for you.” He winked at Lisette and retreated, taking the lone footman stationed at the door with him.
Lisette put her wineglass down and stared at the tablecloth. Having Lord Swanfield sitting across from her was quite overwhelming and she was at a loss for what to say. She didn’t want him to see her as a chatty empty-headed twit, but all the conversational gambits that rose to her lips were stupid inanities and she didn’t like that at all. Her attraction for him was far more visceral and base; she didn’t want to talk to him, she wanted to touch him. She’d already noted he didn’t use strong cologne; only the scent of cigarillo smoke, saddle leather, and
lemon soap drifted across the table to tantalize her senses, to make her yearn to lean over and stroke his cheek.
“Miss Ross.”
She looked up and he rose to his feet, reached across the table, and cupped her jaw in one of his hands. His mouth came down over hers, and she welcomed the fierce intimacy of his kiss, the savage heat of it, and even the implied possession. Before she could speak, he resumed his seat and her father returned with the footman bearing a small oil painting, which he presented to Lord Swanfield.
“Here you are, Swanfield. It’s a portrait of Wellington as a foal with his sire.”
Lisette was instantly forgotten as Lord Swanfield’s attention switched to the painting and he smiled. “Thank you, sir, I will treasure it.”
“You are welcome.” Philip resumed his seat and beckoned to the footman to pour him another glass of brandy. “Perhaps you would care to take a turn in the garden with my daughter, my lord? She loves the evening air.”
Lisette frowned repressively at her father, who simply continued to smile at her. “Perhaps Lord Swanfield would prefer to stay inside and discuss horses with you?”
“Oh no, a breath of fresh air would be very welcome, Miss Ross.” Lord Swanfield pushed back his chair and stood up. He offered her his arm. “Shall we proceed?”
She moved around the table to stand next to him, and realized again how tall he was when she had to look up. Her father gestured at the French doors leading out of the dining room. “You can access the garden from here. I’ll make sure the staff doesn’t lock you out.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Lisette waited while the footman deftly unlocked the double doors and then she stepped outside into the fragrant garden. Spring flowers were in bloom and her kid slippers sunk into the
soft green grass as if it were a Persian rug. They walked in silence for a moment until they were out of sight of the dining room windows.
“Am I forgiven then?”
Lisette looked up. “Why ever would you think that?”
“Because I am here, and because your father obviously approves of me.”
“My father always takes a great interest in anyone who buys his horses. As his daughter, it is my duty to accept and welcome all his guests.”
“So you’re still sulking then.”
Lisette stopped walking. “I am not sulking. I had a perfectly legitimate reason to consign you to the devil.”
His smile was slow and screamed danger. “Yet here we are, together again, and I don’t think you mind it that much.” He reached forward and brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “You still taste the same. I still want you.”
“And you are still arrogant.”
He leaned into her and kissed her lightly on the lips. She fisted her hands at her sides to stop herself from sliding them into his thick black hair and holding him close. He kissed her again, the tip of his tongue outlining the seam of her lips, seeking access, something she wanted to give him more than she wanted to breathe.
He drew back and stared down at her. “Why are you being so stubborn?”
“Why do you make it sound so simple when it isn’t simple at all? As we’ve already established, a young lady can’t go around kissing every man she meets just because she wants him.”
“I’ve heard you’ve kissed quite your fair share.”
Lisette raised her chin. “Have you been listening to gossip about me, my lord?”
“Perhaps I have.”
“And you believe I am a flirt?”
He considered her for a long moment. “So I’ve been told, but I’ve learned to my cost that gossip can often be wrong.”
Lisette swallowed her outrage. “In this case, the gossip is true, I
am
a flirt. I
love
to bring men to their knees and then laugh and walk away from them.”
“That won’t happen with me.”
The absolute confidence in his voice shook her. “It won’t happen, my lord, because I refuse to flirt with you.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her hard against him. “I don’t want you to flirt. I want you to be yourself, to admit that you want me and stop complicating something as straightforward as lust with romantic womanly notions of love.”
She struggled to pull her hand free from his chest, but he kissed her and somehow her hand ended up wrapped around his neck as she kissed him back. God, she could drown in his mouth, in the press of his hard body against hers, in his arms around her.
“Let me give you pleasure.” His husky words were barely whispered into her ear. “Let me touch you. I burn for you, I’m hard for you all the time; I come thinking of you every night.”
She sighed against his throat. “I wish you would stop saying things like that. It is so unfair.”
He nipped her ear. “Because you like it?”
“Yes, and thus I increase my reputation as an incorrigible flirt.”
He sank down onto a convenient bench and drew her into his lap, his arm encircling her waist, his mouth returning to hers. This time she let him in, her tongue tangling with his, as his hand inched up from her waist to cup and squeeze her breast, making it swell over the constriction of her bodice and corset.
“God …” His hoarse comment excited her further as his
mouth latched onto her nipple and sucked hard. She shivered and slid her hand around his neck to hold him close. His other hand was under her skirts, caressing her buttock and she wasn’t about to stop him, not yet, not now, not until he… She gasped as one of his long fingers brushed her clit and discovered the thick wetness between her thighs.
“Touch me.” His rough command and the way he grabbed her hand and pressed it to the front of his pantaloons made her feel victorious, that she wasn’t the only one in danger of losing control.
She remembered this sensation of falling, of the notion that nothing existed beyond his hands, his mouth, and her willing body. She arched her back and shamelessly rubbed her mound against his wide, calloused palm, felt the tip of his finger penetrate her and moaned. “Please …”
He slid his finger a little deeper and she moved against it, didn’t care what he thought of her, just wanted the pleasure she knew was close. He groaned as her fingernails cut into his skin. His thumb was on her clit, his finger working her to the rhythm of his suckling. She gripped his shaft as hard as she could and felt dampness and heat beneath her fingers as he shoved himself into her hand.
She climaxed and his mouth claimed hers, sealing in her cries of release and joining their breath. When she opened her eyes he was still holding her, his hands now on the outside of her clothing, his expression strained. She forced herself to climb off his lap, and noticed he hadn’t come, that his cock still tented his pantaloons.
She cleared her throat and haphazardly straightened her gown. “May I help you with”—she waved vaguely in the direction of his groin—“that?”
He glanced down at himself and then at her. “Thank you, but no.”
Even as she absorbed the implied rejection and felt it sting far more than she had anticipated, she tried to make a joke of it. “Surely you have realized by now that I am indeed a terrible flirt, and that even more shockingly, I enjoy touching and being touched by a man. You wouldn’t be the first man that I’ve ‘helped.’”
A muscle flicked in his cheek. “I can see that.”
She took a step back feeling cold. “I invested a lot of energy in my ‘fast’ reputation and now I believe I regret it.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t like the way you are looking at me.”
He angled his head to one side. “How do I look?”
“Judgmental.”
He shrugged. “I have no right to sit in judgment of you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“But if you don’t wish men to think you are a flirt, your behavior with me hardly helps.”
“You are right. I don’t know what came over me. I must be even worse than the gossips imagined!” She glared at him and gathered the ends of her shawl tightly in her fist. “What a feather in your crown; you are obviously irresistible.”
He stood up slowly and studied her. “Don’t put words into my mouth, Miss Ross. I’m quite happy to engage in a flirtation of this nature with you, but I refuse to share you with any other men.”
“Gossip suggests I indulge in orgies, does it?” Her sexual warmth dissipated rapidly replaced by sheer anger.
“That’s not what I meant. I …”
“Gossip is an insidious thing, isn’t it? You must know that yourself. Your reputation is hardly stellar.”
His shoulders stiffened and his faint smile disappeared. “You have been listening to gossip about me?”
“I asked after your army career, if that is what you mean.”
Lisette drew her shawl over her breasts, aware of a sudden chill that emanated not from her surroundings but from the man in front of her.
“And did you enjoy hearing about my disgrace?”
She blinked at his suddenly arctic tone. “Of course not!”
“It is a remarkable tale, is it not? The lowly aristocrat showing his true colors by betraying everything and everyone who believed in him.”
Lisette took a deep breath. “Lord Swanfield, you refused to answer me when I asked you to explain yourself. In truth, you told me to go to the devil. You can hardly complain if I try to find out the truth myself!”
He bowed. “Good evening, Miss Ross.”
“Wait.” Lisette caught at his arm. “Surely we are even? We both sought information about the other in the only way available to us. Why are you allowed to storm away in a huff and I’m not?”
“Because being labeled a flirt is far less damaging than being labeled a coward.” He tried to shake her hand off his sleeve, but she refused to let go.
“Is that so? Of course, a man’s reputation and honor is
so
much more important than a woman’s, isn’t it?”
He glowered down at her. “Yes, it is.”
Lisette let go of him then and stepped back. “Sometimes I do not like you at all.”
His bow was full of scathing magnificence. “And I do not like you very much either.”
“Then we are done, sir, and all there is left to do is wish you a long and happy life.”
“Indeed.”
Lisette managed one last disdainful toss of her head before she picked up her skirts and headed back for the house. Of course he didn’t follow her, and by the time she reached the
dining room, the scent of one of his ridiculous cigarillos reached her. She tried not to breathe it in, aware of an ache in her heart and a more physical ache from her body. She touched her lips where he had kissed her and acknowledged a particularly exasperating fact. She might not like him at all, but she still wanted him and he had no intention of playing the game by her rules at all.
“L
isette, whatever are you doing here?”
Lisette jumped at the sound of her mother’s amused voice and forced a smile. When she’d decided to slip in through the servants’ entrance of the pleasure house, she hadn’t expected to find Helene in the kitchen sharing a cup of chocolate with the cook. She blew a kiss at Madame Durand, who smiled and retreated to the far end of the kitchen. Lisette took off her cloak and bonnet and laid them carefully over the back of a chair, then slipped effortlessly into the colloquial French of her childhood.
“Nothing,
Maman
, I just decided to enjoy myself at the pleasure house this evening for a change.”
“But I thought you’d decided to avoid the place in favor of supporting your half sister’s debut.” Helene, her mother and the owner of the pleasure house, studied her quizzically. She was dressed for the evening ahead in a gown of blue silk that matched her eyes and sapphire jewelry that Lisette knew had been a wedding gift from her father.
Lisette sighed. “I’m wondering if I made the right decision
about that. Christian believes I will do Emily more harm than good by being seen with her.”
Helene’s perfect eyebrows arched upward. “And you
agreed
with him?”
“My reputation is not exactly pristine.”
Lisette sat opposite her mother in the quiet of the normally bustling kitchen. When she and Christian had first moved to England, it had become their favorite place in the house. Madame Durand was endlessly kind and they’d enjoyed sampling her wares, listening to the scandalous gossip from upstairs, and plotting ways to annoy their mother. Christian was never there now. He was far too busy dealing with the real business of the house in the main office upstairs.
“And your reputation matters to you now because …?” Helene asked.
Lisette forced herself to meet her mother’s blue eyes, and remembered her encounter with Lord Swanfield on the previous evening. “I just wish I hadn’t been quite so …”
“Enthusiastic?”
“So keen to embrace the joys of the flesh.” Lisette grimaced. “I made some bad choices,
Maman
, you know I did. I’m not even a virgin anymore.”
Helene gave a dismissive snap of her fingers. “Any man who thinks less of you for
that
is not worth having. I’ve always hated such double standards.”
“I’ll remember that,
Maman
.” Lisette thought of Lord Swanfield. He hadn’t seemed shocked that she’d let him touch her so intimately; he’d just insisted that he wouldn’t share her with anyone else. Her smile dimmed.
“Is there something in particular you wish to discuss with me,
ma petite
?” Helene asked gently.
“Not really,
Maman
. Do you remember how hard I tried to scandalize you?” Lisette had to smile then. “That is, until I learned you were completely unshockable.”
“You were only eighteen when you first came to live with me, and, unfortunately, because of the nature of my business, I gave you more opportunities to explore your sexuality than most mothers would.” Helene sighed. “And you quite rightly resented me for my long absence in your life. I’m not surprised you wanted to provoke me.”
“You tried very hard to stop me even coming in here, but I refused to be put off,” Lisette said quickly. “Please don’t blame yourself.”
Her mother’s expression clouded. “I wasn’t there for you as a mother for so many years. I regret that more than I can say.”
Lisette rose to her feet and went to embrace her mother’s petite form. Helene still didn’t look old enough to be the mother of three children, including one, Marguerite, who was about to be married for the second time.
“I love you just the way you are,
Maman
, never doubt it. You made the best choices you could, and as Philip frequently reminds us, many young mothers simply abandon their bastards. They don’t enroll them in expensive French nunnery schools and give them an education.”
Helene winced. “Yes, I was able to take care of your material comfort; your emotional well-being is another matter.” She gripped Lisette’s hand. “Ah, but there is no point in regretting the past, is there? But I have always wondered if you and Christian would’ve been more … settled if I had been there for you.”
Lisette mock-frowned at her mother. “
Maman
, you have given me a father and a family I’m proud to belong to. That is quite enough.”
“Philip is a good man, isn’t he? And he was so happy when he was able to give you his name and acknowledge you as his children.” Helene half smiled. “Even if this ridiculously antiquated English law means that as we married long after your birth, Christian can’t inherit the title.”
“I don’t think Christian cares about that, do you? He never even uses the ‘Ross’ name. He is far too busy enjoying his life to worry about all the responsibilities poor Richard will have to face.”
Secretly Lisette wondered if that was still true. As Christian had withdrawn from her this past year, she had wondered whether he resented his position as the oldest son of a future earl, but not the legal heir to the title.
“That is true.” Helene rose to her feet and smoothed down the front of her blue silk gown. “I have to go back to my office and finish my work. Why don’t you run along and enjoy yourself, my dear?”
Lisette kissed her mother’s soft cheek. “I think I will.” It was the best revenge on Lord Swanfield she could think of. Not that she was thinking of him at all. “And don’t worry, I’ll wear a mask.”
Helene laughed. “I’m sure your father and Emily will be grateful for that.”
Lisette watched her mother leave and envied her grace and composure, even as her heart raced at the prospect of an illicit evening at the pleasure house. In her younger years, her mother’s perfection had made her feel so inadequate. It was only as she’d learned to listen to what her mother was really trying to tell her about the horrors of her youth, her struggles with the pleasure house, her desolation when Philip had first left her, that she’d come to understand and love the complex woman who had given birth to her.
And just talking to her mother had emboldened her. Since her far too intimate encounter with Lord Swanfield, she needed to prove that he was not the only man who could make her forget her resolve to behave more appropriately. Perhaps she truly was a wanton woman and any man would do.
After an hour of searching out all the delights the pleasure house could offer on the first floor, she was at a loss. None of
the men excited her, even those who had solicited her company. None of them seemed tall enough or elegant enough or had dark blue eyes….
Lisette picked up her skirts and started determinedly up the stairs to the more intimate setting of the second floor, where the sexual games were both more explicit and performed in smaller settings. She’d deliberately chosen a brown satin dress more suited to a mature married woman and dressed her hair in a more severe braided style than her usual haphazard curls. With the half-mask over her face, she hoped her disguise was sufficient to fool most of the ton. A young, unmarried lady would be an unusual and unwelcome sight at the pleasure house.
Lisette headed toward the largest of the intimate salons and paused at the doorway to investigate. At first glance, nothing seemed too unusual: a fair number of women and some men were seated on the comfortable red couches watching a trio of naked performers entwined on the low stage at the front of the room. As they watched, a succession of half-naked men moved among them, serving drinks and small delicacies.
The masked servers wore tight white pantaloons that looked as if they had been stitched onto them, leaving the guests in no doubt as to the shape of each man’s arse, the size of his cock, and exactly who was aroused.
A flurry of movement drew Lisette’s gaze to the back of the room where a pair of women tried to attract the attention of one of the servers. Despite herself, Lisette’s gaze was drawn to the broad, scarred back of the man who faced them. Something about the way he carried himself alerted all her senses. One of the women reached around to caress the man’s buttock and pinched his arse through the satin as if testing the mettle of a horse.
The man sank to his knees and offered the tray of drinks to the women. They continued to talk to each other, one of them
fondling the server’s cock as if she were petting a lap dog. As the candlelight fell on the man’s scarred profile, Lisette remained frozen in the doorway. Surely it couldn’t be …
She drew back as the man stood up again and turned toward the center of the room. He was magnificently aroused now, his thick cock pushing at the satin as if threatening to tear its way out. His gaze was respectfully on the floor as a good servant’s should be. Another man beckoned him over, pushed him against the wall and roughly handled his shaft. Lisette swallowed hard. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew exactly who it was. With all the care she could manage, Lisette moved away from the doorway and back into the hall, her heart thumping, and her hand over her mouth.
It was not uncommon for an aristocrat to take on the role of a servant in the pleasure house. In truth, a lot of people enjoyed playing a subservient character and submitting themselves to the will or the whims of others. But she’d never expected Major Lord Gabriel Swanfield to be such a man.
She slowed down and had to stop because her breathing was so erratic. Christian had warned her, so it was ridiculous to feel so betrayed. Obviously Lord Swanfield’s words about her being the only woman he wanted had been a lie. She’d been a fool to think he was different, that he’d wanted to be honest with her, that she would be able to be honest with him….
She found her mother ensconced in her office with a large accounting book in front of her.
“
Maman
, can I ask you something?”
Helene removed her spectacles. “Anything,
ma petite
, you know that.”
Lisette paced the worn rug in front of her mother’s desk. “There
is
a man …”
“Does this have to do with your reasons for regretting your reputation?”
Lisette chose to ignore that question and concentrated on the scene she had just witnessed. “The servers in the large salon on the second level. Do they have sex with the other guests?”
“You know the rules, Lisette. Each person here is allowed to make their own decisions as to how far they are prepared to participate.”
“So they can have sex, then?”
Helene’s eyebrows rose. “Is there someone here tonight you wish to bed?”
“There is someone here who drives me to distraction, but I don’t want to bed him, I just want to get even with him.”
“Because he has wronged you?”
“Because …” Lisette smiled at her mother. “Just because.”
Helene shuffled some papers on her desk and opened another book. “If you tell me which man you mean, I can find out what his sexual limits are. Would that help?”
“You don’t have to do that,
Maman
. Perhaps, with your permission, I could talk to whoever is in charge of the servers on that floor and get her to help me?”
Helene shut the book. “You do not want me to know which man you are interested in.”
“Not really,
Maman
.” Lisette tried to keep her tone light. “He doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“Yet you still wish to punish him for his transgressions?”
“From what I’ve seen tonight, he obviously enjoys being servile. He’ll probably enjoy himself more than I will.”
Helene held her gaze. “Be very careful, Lisette.”
“I will.”
“Just remember that when sex is involved, people can behave very strangely.”
“I know that.”
Helene blew her a kiss. “Then go and talk to Marie-Claude. Tell her I said she should help you and good luck.”
“Thank you,
Maman
.”
Sometimes Lisette was so relieved to have a mother like He-lene, a woman who allowed her to make her own sexual choices and didn’t expect her to behave like a conventional naive miss. Thanks to her mother, she had the perfect opportunity to expose Lord Swanfield as the hypocrite he was.
Gabriel stepped back into the servants’ hallway at the pleasure house and leaned against the wall. His cock ached like the devil tonight, and yet he’d refused all the offers to bring him release. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he preferred the torture of blue balls to the loss of dignity required to allow some stranger to make him come. He kept imagining Miss Ross’s expression if she could see him here, at his worst, at his most desperate.
“Monsieur?” He looked up and saw Marie-Claude beckoning imperiously to him. “Come along.”
Without thinking, he followed her to the end of the hall and into one of the smaller, more private rooms that adjoined the salon. A woman dressed in brown silk sat in a chair beside the bed, a woman Gabriel had no chance of recognizing unless he ripped off her bonnet and heavy veils. Marie-Claude nodded at him.
“This lady wishes you to pull down your pantaloons.”
For a moment, Gabriel balked at the calm request and wondered why the woman couldn’t speak for herself. Inwardly, he shrugged. He needed to come, and this was as good a way as any. In the struggle to push the tight satin down over his shaft he might even embarrass himself and spill his seed. At least then it would be over and he could go home and sleep.
Slowly, he worked the two buttons loose, wincing as his cock pulsed and soaked the satin in pre-cum. He managed to lower the placket and shove down the sides of his pantaloons. His cock strained upward toward his stomach, the wetness at the tip catching the candlelight.
“Touch yourself,” Marie-Claude said.
Gabriel was quite happy to oblige. He wrapped one hand around his thick shaft and worked his heated flesh through his fingers. God, he was so close, so close to coming….
“Stop, monsieur.”
His fingers stilled even as his mind screamed a denial and he forced himself to breathe slowly.
“Come closer.” Marie-Claude murmured.
Still clasping his shaft he moved nearer, he focused his attention on the woman seated directly in front of him. He shuddered when she lifted one gloved hand and traced from the tip of his cock down to his balls with her index finger. She returned her finger to the crown of his cock and slowly circled the tiny weeping hole at the center. His hips jerked toward her touch, straining, wanting, and she obliged him, flicked and circled his aching tip until he almost started to come.