A Gentleman's Wager (10 page)

‘Don’t you want me?’ she murmured.

Frederick focused on the cracked stone floor tiles, engraved with the names of the long-dead, as she traced the line of his crotch with her fingertip. Desire quickened in his balls. It was too much to resist. Helpless, he watched her kneel and nestle her head against his thigh. She released him, exposing his cock to her merciless kisses.

The soft pressure of her lips flickered across his torso as she drew him down onto the pew. The warmth of her body made a stark contrast to the cold bench against his back, while the soft muslin of her chemise grazed his skin, further heightening his sensitivity. He barely touched her.

If he didn’t touch her, it wasn’t his fault.

She tasted him. She supped on him as if she was tasting the creamy ambrosia of the gods, then gently but firmly guided the head of his cock between her breasts. Vanquished, he gazed up at the rich golds and greens of
the
angels on the vaulted ceiling, and returned their seraphic smiles.

‘Oh yes!’ he groaned.

Captive between her breasts, he lost control and instinct took over. He clasped her shoulders and rocked her back and forth along his length. The motion built on the rapture. With sweet anticipation, he focused on the raging waters within his shaft, and ejaculated over her.

Too soon the pleasure faded into memory, receding as rapidly as that tide of emotion had, leaving behind only the echo of his orgasmic cry.

‘Louisa!’

From their vantage point, three pairs of eyes watched Frederick and the girl. Charles’s were bulging; Joshua’s showed amusement; Lucerne’s were narrowed but his pupils were dilated. He turned his head away when Charles’s excited panting became too distasteful, to find an empty space to his left where Vaughan had been.

Lucerne found him leaning against a tilted gravestone, close to the rough, drystone wall that separated the churchyard from the moors. He was staring up through the branches of a denuded tree at the opaque night sky.

‘Vaughan, are you all right?’

Vaughan’s gaze shifted sideways and flickered over Lucerne. There was a sad smile upon his parted lips, which made him look ever so slightly fragile. Concerned, Lucerne moved a step closer. ‘What is it?’

Vaughan reached out and touched him tenderly with his long fingers. The caress was so soft it barely registered against the skin, but Lucerne felt the undercurrent right through his body. Numbed by it, he watched in a trance as Vaughan leaned forwards and brought his lips to meet Lucerne’s own.

Anger, excitement and fear sparked where their lips met. Bewildered, Lucerne simply accepted the kiss. The fierceness of Vaughan’s passion burned him and rippled through his tensed body, adding to his confusion. The first stirrings of lust played around his loins. Only when he felt the other man’s tongue dart between his lips and flick against his own did he push him away.

‘No!’

He stared at the grass.

‘Lucerne, remember how it can be.’ Vaughan reached out to him again, but this time Lucerne stepped back warily and raised his arms to ward off the intimacy. He set his jaw and met Vaughan’s eyes. For an instant, he saw desire and intense pain in the dilated pupils, then the window to Vaughan’s soul snapped closed and all that was left was his own cold glare reflected back at him. They regarded each other silently, not quite knowing what to say.

‘I…’

‘No,’ said Lucerne.

Vaughan bowed his head, then turned and walked away.

They returned to the hedge where they had all met at the start of the escapade and, after greeting a bashful Wakefield jocularly and bidding Joshua goodnight, began the long walk back to the Hall in silence. Charles, in the hope of drawing forth a few sordid details, attempted to draw Wakefield into conversation, but failed and so enthusiastically recounted the delightful vision of the girl’s heaving bosom glistening with pearly dew. He intended to immortalise it in poetry.

Wakefield felt duped and sorely used by people he had considered friends. He was particularly annoyed at Lucerne. The joke was too extreme, being at Louisa’s
expense
as well as his own, though he’d make damn sure that she didn’t learn of it. As if what he’d done with Bella wasn’t bad enough. Worst of all, he was unable to deny the pleasure he’d experienced that evening, and was still feeling now – of her silky touch and the soft pillowing flesh around his loins.

Lucerne and Vaughan walked apart until they neared the Hall, when Vaughan picked up the pace and broke away from the group to dissolve rapidly into the mist. Lucerne followed him. He knew he’d reacted badly, and that he owed Vaughan an apology, but when he caught up with him on the front steps and tried to speak his words came out halting and cold. Vaughan regarded him with pursed lips and a clenched jaw, and departed without comment at the approach of Charles’s droning voice.

Lucerne snapped to attention like a soldier on parade. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said curtly, with a nod of his head. ‘Goodnight.’

Lucerne settled back against the feather pillows of his bed and sighed. The household had retired for the night but he expected the bad moods would still be with them in the morning. At the very least, he knew things would undoubtedly be strained between himself and Vaughan. The others might notice, especially Wakefield who, if he ever forgave Lucerne for his part in tonight’s charade, would be overjoyed that they’d fallen out.

Yes, Wakefield would be deliriously happy, but he himself was not. He enjoyed life around Vaughan, and always had. Vaughan made life interesting. He kept everyone on their toes, servants and intimates alike. So how had it come to this?

Lucerne placed his fingertips at his temples.

Ever since he’d arrived, Vaughan had watched him
with
those deep dark eyes, and Lucerne had half formed his suspicions, but he’d seen no reason to voice them. He didn’t need a man, not when he could have Bella or any other woman who came along, and so he’d brushed those inklings aside. He remembered now Vaughan’s expression when he had told him about Bella spying on him, the night they had stayed up late. The scowl that he’d quickly buried behind laughter spoke volumes. They’d watched the dawn break together and Vaughan had grown progressively more moody. Now he understood why. Everything had been going so well as he settled down to life at Lauwine. Until tonight, he’d more or less buried the past …

They had not seen each other for three years when they’d become acquainted again in Rome, by chance. Vaughan had been living there for several months, and had greeted Lucerne with his typical reticence, but had taken the viscount under his wing all the same. They had combined their pleasures. At night they gambled, whored and drank, while by day they admired the artistry of their surroundings. Then, one evening as the sun set on the fields outside the city, their relationship had changed.

A night at the card tables had ended with them back at their lodgings surrounded by a dozen or more wine bottles and the remains of a late supper. Lucerne couldn’t remember precisely what had happened, or what had sparked off the event that followed. Retrospectively he knew he’d been drunk. At the time, all he was aware of was the soft delicate touch of those long white fingers against his inner thigh, bringing him so much pleasure. Light caresses on the fabric of his breeches, as the moon flowed like liquid silver into the sky. Fingers that had moved with the expertise of a Parisian whore over the shaft of his cock.

He gasped as the memory of that touch burst into the present, and a wave of pleasure stiffened his penis. He pushed his hand beneath the bedspread and tentatively closed it over the shaft.

He remembered the surprise he’d felt afterwards at having been touched by a man, and the confusion at his own arousal Vaughan hadn’t given him the chance to think at the time. He’d pushed him onto the bed and unbuttoned his breeches, releasing his erection. Then he’d kissed his ruddy plum before giving him perhaps the best fellatio he’d ever had. Next morning Lucerne had run away; packed his bags, made his excuses and left Rome. When they met again, enough time had passed and Vaughan had made no comment, so they’d continued to be friends. But now?

Now Lucerne was concerned. His cock was hard in his hand just from the memory of that night. What was he supposed to do if his memories could affect him so powerfully? How could he live around Vaughan? He focused all his senses on his straining prick and blanked Vaughan from his mind. He was already so primed it took very little work for him to come.

Lucerne lifted the towel from the bed stand and wryly mopped his own stomach. It had been a long time ago, he reasoned, and only one night out of a thousand he had spent with Vaughan. He had not forgotten the past, and nor did he deny it, but he wasn’t prepared to renew it.

BELLA HAD FIRST
felt a numbing sense of disquiet as the carriage rattled up the avenue of trees the following afternoon. Something had happened in their absence that had made everyone at Lauwine Hall moody, and even the weather seemed to have been affected. Charles was in the upstairs parlour. He looked up from his paper long enough to explain that Lucerne had gone out and that the marquis and the captain were respectively indisposed and tired. Bella didn’t care about Vaughan, but she’d been looking forward to seeing Lucerne again. They had some unfinished business to conclude from yesterday, and she was eager for his hands and lips on her face and body. Damn Vaughan for interrupting them. Wakefield’s absence also dampened Louisa’s mood.

Lucerne didn’t return until gone six, when he staggered in out of the wind, blond hair tangled with leaves and his normally alabaster-white skin flushed red from the impact of the gale. His shirt was open to the chest. Icy water dripped from the fabric as he tapped his riding crop impatiently against his thigh while Ivo, his valet, tried to brush clumps of wet grass from his coat. Lucerne quickly lost patience. He barked some orders then pushed Ivo aside and strode up the stairs. Dismayed, Bella gazed at the muddy boot prints on the marble steps and wondered what had happened to the fragile peace. She thought of following him. Perhaps she could change his mood with the promise of a few soft pleasures. She quickly thought better of it; he’d seemed
very
abrupt, and she didn’t want to take a chance on rejection.

She’d laid all her plans around Lucerne, and now she felt at a loss for how to entertain herself until dinner, Joshua and Louisa both having retired for a short rest. She wandered aimlessly through the first-floor rooms. Lucerne had already shown her the vast library, with its row upon row of dusty old books. The dining room was a familiar feature. She stayed only long enough to sneak into the stag parlour. The masculine retreat was choked with paintings, tapestries, and more chairs than was reasonable for such a small room. It led on to the billiards room and, beyond that, the newly refurbished drawing room. Between here and the salon lay several empty rooms and Bella tried the knobs to them all, but only one opened. She cautiously put her head around the door. It was the old morning room.

As she had expected, it was empty. Bella straightened up and went inside. The room smelled of ages past, stale and musty. The walls were covered in faded, mildewed yellow and gold paper, and a large rug covered the centre of the floor. The floorboards groaned and squeaked as she crossed to the window. It was thick with ivy, but she knew it should have overlooked the lawn and the willow tree. She tried the door to the adjoining room but the handle just rattled in her hand.

‘It’s locked. The east wing isn’t suitable for guests.’

The voice startled her. Bella turned sharply, letting go of the brass handle with a guilty start. Vaughan posed languidly with his back to the outer door. He was dressed in tight black trousers and a loose cambric shirt, with thick lace cuffs that covered most of his hands. ‘It’s not wise to explore alone, nor appropriate without invitation. What were you looking for – Lucerne’s room, perhaps?’

Bella stiffened; Vaughan was the last person she
wanted
to run into. Although she had hardly spoken to him, she’d decided on the evening of the ball that she didn’t like him. He was an arrogant, self-centred, stuck-up dandy, and then there was the small matter of what he’d done to Louisa. Pity, then, that he was so damned attractive. She couldn’t help looking at him.

‘I thought you were indisposed,’ she said.

‘Only to certain company. Do you always ignore questions?’

Bella’s brows knitted themselves together. His insolence was starting to make her blood boil. ‘Only if I don’t think it worth answering them. What if I
was
looking for his room?’

His lips twisted into a thin, sardonic smile. ‘Then I should engage your services as a whore, for Lucerne will not.’

Colour flooded into Bella’s cheeks. She felt her pulse in her temple, while the boned cage of her stays resisted her as she sucked in a deep breath. The arrogant swine was goading her. ‘You couldn’t afford me, my lord,’ she spat.

Vaughan inclined his head to one side; there was a spark of real interest glinting in his pupils. ‘Oh, I think I could.’ His voice was low, barely more than a whisper. ‘I daresay it might even be a pleasant diversion on this dismal afternoon. What do you say, Miss Rushdale: shall we make a bed of this worn rug?’

‘I’m no whore,’ retorted Bella, lifting her chin. Vaughan crossed the room. The muffled tread of his boots sounded dully on the threadbare rug. He came to a halt before her, on the frayed edge, and regarded her carefully with one eye. His dark hair masked the other.

‘Correct. A whore rarely loves her work.’

A low growl burned in Bella’s throat. She clenched her fist, whitening her knuckles. ‘I should slap you for that.’

‘Do, please; be my guest.’

For several seconds Bella glared at him as she restrained the urge to lash out. His patient, mocking expression was what stopped her. She wouldn’t be laughed at. Eventually, Vaughan turned his back on her and, with the same soft tread, crossed to the window. Relief flooded through Bella’s muscles, releasing the tension in her limbs.