A Shimmer of Silk (5 page)

It was not who he expected.

The door so recently slammed shut was opened with a thud that
shook its frame.

Araminta, Lady Dalrey stalked across the room and slapped
his face with such force he rocked back on his heels. In one hand she held a
short silk and leather flail.

He eyed it curiously.

"How dare you? Are you crack-brained?
An imbecile?
A child?
What have you
done to her? Why is she now in my chamber in tears? And I have had to desert my
husband at a very interesting moment, to help her, and glare at you." She
stamped her sandal-clad foot. There was no stocking covering it, and her toes
twitched. "Well?"

If he hadn't been so worried, her demeanor would have amused
him. She looked like a demented, determined ferret. Not that he would dare
mention that to her or Felton. Neither of them would appreciate his simile.
Instead he moved toward her. "She is safe?"

Ara snorted. "Of course she is safe, she is with
Felton, and he, I assure you, has no interest in anyone other than me.
Why have I had to interrupt my … my playtime?"

"Ah, Ara…" The foot tapped faster and Oliver
looked from it to her fingers. She was rubbing them together, and Oliver couldn't
decide if that was a positive or negative sign. He had never felt less dominant
in his life.

"Oliver, if you value your cock, I suggest you speak and
answer my question. Tonight I was in charge, something that happens
infrequently, and I am still in that frame of mind. So, unless you wish to be
on the receiving end of my flail in
a none
too
pleasurable way, I suggest you give me answers, and with haste."

"Lady Dalrey." He used her title and smothered a smirk
at the way her eyebrows rose.
"In truth?
I don't
know what triggered her panic."

"And you a noted Dominant? Then clearly you need
retraining. Perhaps I should ask Felton to arrange that?"

"You need not." The voice was shaky but
determined.

Unnoticed by either he or Ara, Deborah had entered the room,
along with a stern-faced Felton, Lord Dalrey. She had changed and was all
woman
in a deep blue-green dress the color of a peacock’s
feather. It shimmered as she moved. "It was my fault, not My Lord's. I
failed to explain my fears. Indeed I do not know if I realize them myself. I
could not say what triggered my angst, except I care."

To Oliver's amazement and delight, she walked toward him and
knelt at his feet. As he looked down on her glossy curls his cock showed its
appreciation of her stance and thickened instantly. "I know little of what
is truly expected of me, My Lord. I feel something is between us, something I
need, but can I allow myself to feel? That is my dilemma."

"Then if you wish to belong to Lord Callender, or explore
the possibility of such a scenario, you need to work through your uncertainty
with him. Your
sessions as our artiste has
ended. I suggest
you both leave here and discuss your future whether it be entwined or no."

Deborah looked up at Oliver, and the hope in her eyes sent
his blood pushing through him. He was exultant. She wanted to try.

"Please, My Lord?" Her voice wavered. Surely she
did not think he would refuse her?

"Deborah, stand up and let me hold you." Try as he
might he couldn't keep a note of command from his voice. As Deborah rose, all
grace and leaned into him, he noticed Felton smile and Ara glare at her
husband.

"This," she said, "is not a time for smirking,
Felton." She brushed one of her arms with the flail she still held. If
anything Felton's smile grew wider.

"True, my dear, you are right as ever. Oliver, can you
make your arrangements to suit both of you?"

"Of course, although I fear it will be the morrow
before we can set out to the place I feel will be best for us. May I ask you to
accommodate my lady until then?"

"There will be no need. I trust you, my Lord. If I can
restrain
myself
not to molest you, I
am sure you can contain yourself in a likewise manner." Her tongue traced
the outline of her mouth, and one eyelid closed briefly.

His cock twitched, as did his lips. Even scared as he thought
she was, she could quip with him. His respect went up even higher. "Of
course, you have my word."

"Then we will leave you to your rest and continue with
our rest…" Araminta paused and this time stroked her neck with the flail
before she turned and let it caress Felton from chin to cock.

He swallowed. "Time to go," he said hoarsely.
"I trust you both have a restful night, what there is left. Oliver
do
not forget to leave your direction with
Hammond
before you leave."

"Of course, although I can tell you now, we will go to
Cammerling
and once there we can explore each other in
privacy."

"
Cammerling
?"
Deborah asked him once Felton
and Araminta had left.

"A small property I have in the shires. It will suit
our needs perfectly."

****

If only I knew
what
I needed. Or indeed what I can accept
. The heat from his body
seared her skin even though there was no contact between them. He lifted his
hand and slowly, oh so slowly, feathered the lightest of touches over her cheek.
So aware was she of his presence, Deborah was certain if she looked in a mirror
his branding would be marked on her like a tattoo of love. She made her mind
up.

"I may not be ready for all you can offer, My Lord, but
I would wish to lie with you. I can't promise any more than I share your bed, rest
beside you, and sleep … or not." She giggled, her lightheartedness surprised
her; it was unexpected but welcome. "Or will it make you too
uncomfortable?"

"I daresay I will be rigid and uncomfortable, but if
you can suffer the knowledge that I ache for you, I as a gentleman—and the one
who holds he hopes the key to your happiness—can suffer the ache."

She was certain her jaw dropped. What a thing to admit as
she prepared to be as intimate with him as one could be without touching and
answering each other's needs.
"Ah, er if you are
sure?"
It was all she could manage without stuttering.

"As long as you disrobe.
If it is all I have then at least
I will have seen you as you should always be when we are alone."

Damn him, does he realize what
he is doing to me? Making me wet with wanting, and trembling with arousal? And
oh so scared to act on those reactions to him?
 
The twinkle in his eye assured her he did.
Two, she decided could play at that game.

"But of course, My Lord, and I trust you will be
likewise?" She turned her back on him. "Would you unlace me? My lord
Dalrey acted as ladies maid as I dressed."

"What?" His voice shuddered with fury.

Deborah thought it politic to explain before Lord
Dalrey's
evening of excitement was once more interrupted. "Lady
Dalrey, Ara as she asked me to call her, dressed me, but her husband tied the
top ribbon as she decided you needed to be … I believe her words were attended
to in a way you would not prefer. And as she left the room, she picked up the
flail and said… 'This was not meant for pure pain, but by god I can use it as
such'."

His laugh drifted across her neck as he lifted her hair and the
top laces fell apart. "She is a lady of spirit. She led Felton a merry
dance and has helped him tremendously.
As well as aiding her brother."
The next set of ties loosened and tickled her back as he let them fall. "He,
well, he was not dealt a good hand by their father."

Deborah's throat constricted.
"Ah,
her brother?"

"Jeremy, Lord Willingham. I believe he was in your
audience last night."

And she had not known. Fate was indeed playing cruel tricks.
Deborah shivered. It was lucky Oliver translated it as a positive reaction to
his touch.

With exquisite slowness he finished his ministrations on her
lacings and lowered her gown to her waist. His breath was warm on her skin as
he began a series of tiny, quim clenching nips down her spine.

Before she thought what she was doing, Deborah arched to allow
him easier access. Her bottom rubbed his cock, and it hardened and rose as though
to gain entry to her body. She gasped as her body responded to the silent
demand with a tingle that rippled through her, sending her heart racing, and
her pulse as erratic as any novice on the pianoforte.

"That, my love, is what happens when you tease me. And
rest assured that is as far as I will let my body touch you. I will not
renege."

In one respect she wished he would. Overcome her resistance,
sweep her fears away with actions and deeds, and give her no say in the matter.
However, Deborah knew Oliver was an honorable man, both Araminta and Felton has
reiterated that. He would do nothing without her agreement.

Her gown dropped to the floor and pooled in a sea of silk
around her ankles. As she had been dressed in a hurry, she had no chemise on
under it. Oliver stepped round her. His hand swirled patterns on her back, over
her shoulder, and across the tip of the swell of her breasts. His smoldering
gaze dropped to her sugared cunt and sent hot licks of fire over her skin.

She dropped her hands to cover herself.

"No." The stern dominant tones halted her.
"That I can not countenance.
You have my word I will do
no more than look, but grant me this, Deborah. Your body may never be mine to
love and cherish. Your mind may never open to sanction me close enough to
release you from whatever it is that holds you bound. You may never permit
yourself to be free, but in this, you will allow me to see you." He smiled
and his demeanor changed from stern and chiseled to open and almost boyish. She
melted as he took her wrists, moved her arms behind her back, and whispered.
"If we go no further I will have my memories. Of your body flushed with arousal,
your juices gathered and coating your bare cunt, showing me the evidence of
your desire. Of your need for me to fuck you, fill you, and make you mine."

Her jaw dropped as his words penetrated the clouds of desire
that filled her brain.

"And if I never see you kneel naked in front of me,
your head bowed in submission and ready to submit, I will mourn, but I will
have had this." He leaned close so their bodies just touched and kissed
each nipple gently. His cock stroked her tummy, and Deborah shifted her legs to
try and draw it toward her quim.

"Oh no, love, not yet, and maybe never. Come." He
took her hand and helped her climb onto a high bed. It was, she saw, equipped
with leather straps at each corner. The sight made her stomach churn. However, Oliver
made no mention of them. He divested himself of his clothes and clambered in
next to her, pulling her close and resting her head between his hard male
nipples. The wiry hairs ticked her cheek and she wrinkled her nose, those
intimidating shackles forgotten.

"May I cuddle?" She rested her chin on his chest and
angled her head to stare at him, memorizing the planes and contours to bring
out of her mind and savor at a later date.

"Any time."

Chapter Six

With a sigh that he hoped indicated contentment, Deborah threw
her arm around his waist and nestled against him. He stroked her hair; her
breathing deepened and the cadence changed, telling him she was asleep. Then he
let himself ponder over the activities of the evening.

She was interested in what they could have, of that he was
certain.
Interested, but very wary.
He mused what that
deep-seated wariness was caused by. Deborah burrowed her nose into him; her snuffling
little breaths stirred the hairs on his body. She began to shake and pant.

"No, please …
non
, non,
ce
n'est pas…" Her hands clenched into fists and she
pounded him, sobbing as she thrashed her head from side to side. There was no
doubt she was dreaming dark wicked frightening dreams. She
screamed,
a sound so inhuman, every hair on his head stung.

Her face was contorted, her chest heaving as she rained her
blows down on him. They didn't hurt, but for the first time he felt cold
tentacles of fear for someone else crawl over him. He wanted nothing more than
to protect her from herself and to kill whoever caused her to react in such a
way. Carefully he took hold of her hands in one of his and held her flat on her
back on the bed.

"Bastard, no never…" In a lightening move she
kicked her leg upwards toward his cock. Sharp reflexes gave him time to roll to
one side and then pinion her beneath him. Still she bucked. He would sport
several interesting bruises on the morrow.

"Deborah, no, no more.
No one can harm you, no one.
I have you safe. Come now, shh … there…." As her body stopped heaving the
sobs started.
Great racking cries that ripped into his soul.
Helpless, in the face of such emotion, Oliver did the only thing he could think
of: he gathered her into his arms and stroked her, whispering nonsense, just
keeping his voice low and unthreatening. Gradually, the sobs slowed and became
interspersed with hiccups and deep juddering breaths.