Read A Gentleman's Wager Online
Authors: Madelynne Ellis
A Gentleman's Wager
About the Book
When Bella Rushdale finds herself fiercely attracted to handsome landowner Lucerne Marlinscar, she does not expect the rival for her affections to be another man. The handsome and decadent Marquis Pennerley, however, has desired Lucerne for years and when all three are brought together at the remote Lauwine Hall on the Yorkshire Moors, Pennerley intends to claim Lucerne. At the risk of scandal the contest leads to a passionate struggle between the highly sexed Bella and the debauched aristocrat. Ultimately it will be Lucerne who will choose the outcome, but his decision is bound to cause outrage and upset somebody’s plans.
To Dom
Because it’s all your fault.
Black Lace books contain sexual fantasies.
In real life, always practise safe sex.
‘
FASTER, FASTER! COME
on!’
Bella twisted in the saddle to peer at the distant figure of her groom. Only the low boundary wall and the brook stood between her and victory. She took them at a charge, and cleared them in two easy bounds.
By the old mill pond, she reined in her mare and slipped from the saddle to land among the reeds. Although it was early September, the day was sticky and sweet like honey, drowned with an oppressive heat that made everything damp. It was far too hot to be racing. Her pulse pounded in her head after the short gallop, so that she almost felt that she’d rather be at home, sipping iced tea on the lawn and eating strawberries. But that meant entertaining her neighbours, smiling at their conversation and pretending she cared about their petty gossip.
Bella pulled off her hat and used it to shield her eyes while she waited.
Mark cleared the wall, then slowed his mount to wade the shallow copper-tinted water. He stopped a few feet from her.
‘Where were you?’ she asked.
Mark’s thighs flexed as he dismounted, pulling his homespun breeches tight across his muscular rear. Safely on the ground, he eyed her thoughtfully with one coffee-coloured eye, the second masked by his long fringe.
‘Next time you can ride this old nag, then we’ll see who wins.’
‘Certainly, if you ride side-saddle.’
His brown gaze danced over the bulky, unwieldy saddle, then over Bella’s long skirt. ‘Fine,’ he agreed. ‘Let’s do it now.’
Bella shook her head. Her chemise was plastered to her back, and her boned stays rubbed more than usual. She wanted to sit by the pond for a while and cool her feet. ‘Maybe in a while,’ she said dismissively.
‘Scared I’ll beat you?’
‘No.’
Mark rubbed his hand along the edge of his fur-lined jaw, and gave her a crooked, wolfish smile. ‘So get in the saddle and we’ll race.’
To be called chicken-hearted by her groom was too much. Bella sighed, but hitched up her dress and put her foot in the stirrup.
The warm leather of the unfamiliar saddle felt strange between her thighs; it was nearly sixteen years since she’d sat astride a horse, She’d been eight when her father had given her the vile choice: either ride side-saddle like a lady, or not at all. The threat of losing her pony had won her obedience then. Now she saluted to heaven and her father. No use dwelling in the past when there was a race to be won.
‘Where to?’ asked Mark, his long legs folded around the uncomfortable side-saddle. To be fair, he looked more at ease than she felt.
Bella peered at the horizon. Grey sheep dotted the North Yorkshire hillsides and in a distant hollow, murky smoke curled from the tall chimneys of the mine that her grandfather had started and her brother now owned – too far. Nearer, across the valley stood Lauwine Hall, its rooftops just visible between the trees. The absent owner had neglected the old house for years, and she thought ahead to how the overgrown gardens would offer some welcome shade.
She nodded her head in that direction. ‘Lauwine.’
‘All right. Ready?’
Bella dug in with her heels; pushed the horse into a canter down the hillside, determined to prove she was the better rider. She doubted Mark had ever ridden side-saddle before. He was wobbling slightly but, considering how the leather was chafing her bare thighs, that wasn’t much of an advantage.
She charged across the footpath at the base of the valley and began the gentle ascent across the fields towards the gates. The beat of hooves sounded muffled in the still air, except for the occasional ring of iron against the patches of bare rock. To her left, Mark was gaining ground. Bella grimaced with determination and swept back her crop, goading the horse to greater exertion. She reached the old gate a fraction behind Mark, sore above her stocking tops and faint from the heat.
‘Ouch,’ she complained, and pushed her skirts between her thighs to stop them chafing. The saddle had given her friction burns. If she was going to ride astride again she’d have to wear breeches, or at least long fussy underwear.
‘Too bad,’ Mark offered as he helped her down. He wiped the perspiration from his brow with the back of his hand. ‘I still won.’
Bella turned her back on him to peer through the rusted gate: a dried ribbon of earth and rough grasses led through the trees to the house. She gave the wrought iron a push and it creaked open. ‘Shall we?’
Leaving the horses tethered by the entrance, they ventured along the overgrown avenue. Bella ran ahead to caress the cracked stone of a beautifully endowed faun. Its silent, pleading expression brought out her coquettish side. As she touched its stone manhood, her eyes locked with Mark’s. She’d planned to have him this
afternoon
; it was just a matter of when. Losing the race meant that she wouldn’t have to ask. He’d demand his prize soon enough.
Bella smiled and shot a look at his sweat-streaked shirt. Her groom, like the land around them, was open to her gaze. Judging from his jaunty stride and the smirk on his lips, she knew he was already imagining a tumble with her in the long grass.
At the back of the house the roses bloomed uninhibited, blood red, hard up against the mullioned windows. Wild flowers mingled with the weeds in a flood of colour. Bella stood at the top of the lawn with the grass and the tall yellow buttercups licking her thighs, and watched the summer breeze make ripples through the lawn. She plucked at the ties on her bodice and, once freed from the constriction, breathed a deep lungful of air.
Mark beckoned to her and she joined him by the huge willow tree that dominated the lawn. ‘You owe me a prize,’ he said. Bella nodded. They scrambled beneath the shady boughs and collapsed against the soft earth, Bella on top.
The fabric of his shirt clung to the contours of his chest. She could smell his body, a musky blend of sweat and horses. His lips moved against hers, nibbling and teasing. Bella tugged the linen from his breeches so that she could lick the perspiration from his skin. The salty taste on her tongue sharpened her hunger for him. Mark’s flat, penny-shaped nipples crinkled. Sparing a glance down, she confirmed that his prick was hard too, and already straining towards her touch.
‘Have mercy, Bella.’ He licked his lips. ‘Suck him, just a little … please,’ he added in a voice like warm butter.
Bella shimmied down his body. His cock already lifted the flap fastening of his breeches, tenting the fabric. She
kissed
him through the cloth, tormenting him with the promise of her mouth.
‘How much do you want it?’
Mark’s deep-brown eyes glazed. ‘You don’t need me to answer that.’
She opened his buttons with her teeth, nuzzled into the curls around his root, then let the head press into her mouth. The challenge was to take him all, something she’d never worked out how to do. After the second attempt left her gasping for air, she concentrated her attention on the head, and used her hands on his shaft. His sharp breaths rapidly turned into tiny contented groans. Eager for more, he lifted his hips up to her.
‘Shhh! What was that?’ Bella hissed.
Mark shook his head, and pushed his cock back towards her lips. Bella merely licked him, then turned her head aside. Along with the birdsong and the rustle of branches, there was another low whisper of movement. Someone or something was wading through the long grass.
‘I think someone’s coming.
Mark groaned. A silver bead of dew seeped from the eye of his cock. ‘Ignore them. It doesn’t matter.’
‘I just want to see who it is.’
‘Bella!’ He grasped her wrist and slid his cock into her palm, then nodded at his straining erection. ‘It won’t take a minute.’
She frowned and cautiously brushed aside a handful of green twigs to peer out. About twenty feet away, two men stood on the lawn. The man nearest to her was blond, and wore a beautifully cut blue satin frock coat. Bella took her hand away from Mark’s cock to rub her eyes, and ignored his moan of complaint. Lauwine infrequently
saw
visitors. The miners sometimes came here to catch hares, but this pair weren’t poachers – they were gentlemen.
Behind her Mark was grumbling, but, surprisingly, he hadn’t taken his cudgel in hand.
‘It’s certainly not the crumbling ruin I’ve been led to believe.’ The man in the blue coat encompassed the house with a gesture, unaware that he’d captured Bella’s attention.
‘No, but it still needs work. Nature has seen fit to reclaim its own. I’ll give you that the walls and timbers are sound, and the furnishings are dated but functional. But you’re unlikely to impress anyone.’ The other man was plump and dressed like a squire. When he turned, Bella recognised him as Charles Aubury, a local landowner.
‘I’m settled on the country, Charles. You may as well accept it. London’s lost its charm.’
‘Well then, it may as well be here.’
‘My thoughts exactly.’ He turned towards the house. ‘The labourers have been at work for a month and I’m satisfied with the main house, although the east wing isn’t fit to be seen. Work on the gardens will commence tomorrow, and I hope to move in by the start of October.’
‘Bella!’ Mark complained.
Still intrigued, Bella rolled over and presented him with her bottom. She watched the blond man carefully smooth the line of his coat. A flash of sunlight hit the glass in the French doors and briefly dazzled her.
Mark smacked her, half-heartedly. ‘What’s so damned interesting?’
‘You’re mad, Marlinscar,’ said Aubury. ‘You’ve not spent winter in the country, have you?’
‘No, but I’m sure it can’t be that bad, and after a bottle of brandy I don’t suppose it’ll be any worse.’ They
stepped
into the building and swung the door to behind them.
Comprehension dawned. He was the owner, Viscount Marlinscar, Lucerne. She let out a long whisper. Sudden tears prickled in her eyes. Bella blinked slowly to clear them, but they escaped to trickle down her cheeks. It would be wonderful to have the hall inhabited again but, sadly, it would mean the end of the hayfield lawn. Soon a whole flock of servants would move in, and Lauwine would no longer be her own private sanctuary. Certainly sucking off her groom in sight of its windows would be out of the question.
With that thought she remembered Mark, and let the branches fall back into place.
Mark’s erection had dwindled. The length was still there, but the rigidity had gone.
‘Sorry,’ she murmured as she sidled up to him to place an affectionate kiss on his jaw. ‘They’re gone now.’
‘Thank God for that.’ He nuzzled against her cheek. Bella dropped a hand to his lap. The shaft of his cock was warm and soft. She stroked it rhythmically, watching his dark eyes cloud with lust as he stiffened. Within seconds, he was hard again.
‘Bella,’ he murmured, placing his hands on her shoulders and pushing her down. She rubbed her cheek against his chest and stomach, then circled his navel with her tongue, briefly dipping into its hollow. Ignoring his pleading eyes and over-eager cock, she straddled him and pressed her pubis into his face.