Seducing the Regency Dom (2 page)

“Ah.” His Lady of Mystery bit her lip. "Then
that is fine."

Thank the lord, or I
might die of thirst before she tells me her errand.

Tony waited until Ashton had left the room.

"So, my lady.
Mask off, cards on
the table.
Unless you wish me to do it for you?
But be
assured I won't stop at the mask." Why was he goading her like that? It
was unfair, as well he knew. Anything he did or said
,
she could do nothing about, as it would mean admitting she'd behaved in such a
scandalous manner.

“Really?”
She sounded
interested, not apprehensive. "What else?"

He raised one eyebrow, in a manner designed to
intimidate. "Do you really want to find out?"

"Hmm…" She put one finger to her lips, and
nibbled the nail.

At the sight of such an unconsciously erotic gesture,
Tony's skin tightened, and his heart sped up.

"Is it worth it, I wonder?"

It seemed the intimidation didn't work.

Chapter
Two

Susanna Campion hid a grin. Little did Anthony know
that she was under no illusion: if he, Lord Sentern, knew the full reason for
her visit she'd not be able to sit comfortably for a
week.
Sadly not for the reasons she'd read about, either.

"I wonder? Perhaps not now," she said in a
dulcet tone. She decided to go one step further than she'd told him. With one
hand—still steady, she was pleased to note—she slid her hood back to spread over
her shoulders, and pushed an errant red curl from her forehead. Then she undid
the ties of the loo mask to let it dangle from one finger, before allowing it
to drop to the floor. Really, playing a simpering miss was exhausting. "Lady
Susanna Campion, my lord." She stood up, walked toward him, and looked him
in the eyes. Why had no one ever mentioned how his dark grey irises were shot
with silver streaks? They glittered in the pale spring sunshine filtering
though the windows, and she shivered under his intense gaze. "I have come
to ask you a favor." Susanna, eyes downcast, clasped her hands behind her
back. Why did she feel the urge to kneel? Probably because Jane had told her it
was the way to greet your Master. Tony might not be he, but he had such an air
about him, Susanna needed to force
herself
to stay as
she was.
So much depended on this interview.

In such close proximity to him, she could smell his
citrus cologne and a hint of tobacco mixed with what she privately called ‘the
essence of all-man’… earthy, musky and powerful. How many women would admit to
being aroused by a sense of power in a man? It made her skin tingle and her pulse
race in readiness for whatever should happen. So few men seemed to possess it
to the degree she scented on Tony, which was a shame for womankind. The
wonderment of what it might intimate was the perfect aphrodisiac. But then, how
many women admitted their sexuality? Not enough, if one listened to the gossip
at soirees.

Her stomach muscles clenched as she waited for his
answer. Behind her the tick of the long case clock sounded over-loud, and the
hiss of a coal as it slipped in the grate set her nerves one notch higher.
Susanna dug her fingernails into her palms. The pain served to remind her why
she was there. Eventually, just as she thought she'd give in and blurt her
request out, he lifted her chin. The skin on his finger pads was roughened, she
noted.
No lazy lord, then?
It gave
her heart.

"Subservient?" The grip tightened
slightly, so she had no option but to look at him.

Susanna chose to misunderstand him. "My lord,
I'm no servant." The amused look on his face gave her no idea if he
believed she understood him or not. "But I have a service to beg of
you."

"Oh I like begging," he said, and Susanna
bit her lip to stop the laugh that wanted to escape.

So she had heard. It had been one of the images that
helped her through many a self-given orgasm.

"When someone else does it to me, of course,"
Tony continued. "Therefore, beg away."

Whilst she knew there was nothing for it but to
speak to him before they met formally, Susanna had no idea it could be so much
fun. Was this what they called verbal sparring? If so, she was engaged with an
expert. "Then I beg of you, my lord. This evening, don’t be coerced into
dancing with me. And on no account, at any time, offer for me."

The look of incredulity on his face was enough to
make her giggle. The way his fingers tightened on her chin was not.

"My
lord,
bruises,"
she managed to say. To speak clearly with one's chin held so, was not easy.
"That hurts."

Tony blanched, and removed his hand.
"My apologies, my lady.
It wasn't my intention to mark
you, or cause you pain."

Did she really hear him speak? She was certain she
had.

"Not yet, like this." His voice was low
but…No, surely not. She must be hearing things. Marking in such a manner wasn't
something she'd heard associated with him. Marking in a sensual, erotic way was
a different matter. However, to admit to it? It seemed the stories were true. Would
she ever experience such delights with him? Susanna could only hope and dream
that one day she might.

He studied her chin intently, and ran his finger
over the spot he'd held. "No marks, though you were right to reprimand me.
Your skin will color easily, I think?" Susanna surmised his statement was
intended to soothe. It did the opposite, and made Susanna hard-pressed not to
lean into him and demand he show her how.
One
day.

"Somewhat, my lord.
It is the curse of a
redhead.
Fiery temper and easily bruised.
And a stubborn streak.
One that begs you
to heed me."

"What makes you think I'm going to offer for
you?" Tony sounded genuinely interested. "I am my own man. I can't be
coerced or forced into something I do not desire."

"Your mama, my mama, your
need for a wife, my need to be one—or so I'm told.
I'm three and twenty,
and about to be so far back on the shelf, I'll be missed when they dust. I
don't wish to marry, but do they understand? Of course not…they only see me as
slipping into the lonely life of an old maid."

"Do you see it differently?"

"Oh yes. Give me one good reason why I should
wed someone who neither cares for me out of the ordinary, nor wants me as anything
other than a brood mare?"

He tilted her head up to face him once more. This
time his touch was gentle, and his fingers stroked her skin. The caress set her
nerve ends tingling.

Stupid
girl.
That is no more than he would
give to a sister.

"You think I’d be like that?" Tony ran his
finger from her throat to her mouth and circled her pursed lips, as if
beckoning her to nip. Book reading was all well and good, but she wanted to
know what would really happen if she did. Reading or hearing about sex secondhand
wasn't enough. Not yet, though. Not if her plan worked.

"I don't know, my lord. But according to our
respective Mamas that is what I should expect. They seem to think I'd be
pleased."

"And you're not?"

"No. If that is what's in store as a wife, then
I wish to remain single, remove to the country and, and have cats."

Tony burst out laughing, and his finger slid between
her lips. It was no good. She gave into temptation and sucked the end.

"I think you are altogether too much a woman
for that fate.
Unless you are a follower of Sappho?"
He caressed the back of her neck with his other hand. "Then you may find
the only way to achieve your idyll is to do as you say."

Susanna shook her head, which under the
circumstances was no mean feat. His touch gave her all sorts of shivers and her
skin prickled with something indefinable.

"Are you? I need you to vocalize,
Susanna." Her name sounded romantic, erotic and all things she shouldn't
know about. Her channel, that place she discovered along with the little nub
above it—her clitoris, Jane told her—which loved to be touched, spasmed and a
gush of liquid began to gather. This was the first time anything other than
her own
hand had brought about that reaction. Susanna
tightened her muscles to stop the quiver increasing.

"No…no.
Not Sappho.
Just not interested."
She crossed her fingers behind
her back. It was, according to her cousin and best friend Jane, a way of
telling an untruth and not really intending to abide by it.

"A pity.
I'm sure I could make
you interested."

 
So was she. "Is
that a promise or a threat, my lord?"

He shook his head. "Neither. It's a statement
of fact.
If I had the opportunity and your agreement."
He waited for a moment, presumably to see if Susanna answered. She couldn't
think of a word to say.

"Ah, well." He smiled. "Then I
promise not to offer for you. Will that do?"

"Or let us be coerced into a compromising
position," Susanna added, annoyed she had to miss an opportunity to
increase his interest.
Remember,
slowly…slowly is best.
"I know my Mama.
She'd do anything to stop herself losing face, even throwing me to the shar…oh
my
lord, that
was rude."
Damn. I bet my face is as red as my hair.

To her relief, Tony laughed.
"Or
that.
Rest assured
,
I've bested better people
than either of our Mamas. We will not be forced into anything we don't wish
for."

Was that relief or regret that filled her? Susanna
hardened her resolve: she had a plan, and intended to stick to it. She wanted, no
needed, more than a purely ‘wedded, bedded, and forgotten’ partnership, be it
in holy wedlock or not. That was, after all, the reason for her machinations.

"Then I thank you. I will of course act as if
I've never met you when we're introduced." Susanna curtsied and then stood
up. As she walked back to the chaise, he overtook her and picked up her
disguise. He held it between his forefinger and thumb and waved it from one
side.
"A pretty frippery."

"A necessity," Susanna said in as firm a
tone as she could muster. "May I have it back, please?"

To her dismay he put it inside his waistcoat, and shook
his head. "No. I told you, the only mask you'll wear in my presence is one
to un-sight you. If we are together for any length of time, you'll realize I
never say things I don't mean."

Excitement and dismay played games in her tummy,
warring to see who rose to the top. She couldn't decide. It seemed what she had
read was true, and she wished she could experience it herself.
One day.

"Then how do I get home unnoticed? I may not
live far away, but this is a fashionable crescent, and I often think the occupants
have nothing better to do than report on the movements of others," she
said in a bitter tone.

He grinned. It transformed his face, and made him
appear years younger, and carefree. The way the corners of his eyes creased
gave the twinkle in them a wicked gleam. "True, but then they have mundane
lives and nothing better to do." He pulled her hood around her face and
held the sides together. "Are you certain we wouldn't suit? You seem to
have more spine than anyone else I've met. Or do you have a secret tendre you
hope will be reciprocated one day?"

Susanna honed in on his query. "Yes, my lord,
that's it exactly. I have someone I want to be with." Unless things worked
out as she planned, he'd never know at just whom that tendre was directed.

"Pity.
I feel we would be
well matched."

"You promised." She did her best to keep
the desperation out of her voice. "You said you never go back on your
word."

"Nor do I," he said, his tone regretful.
"However, I didn't say I wouldn't touch you. Or on reflection, try to get
you to change your mind."

Before Susanna had time to react he pulled her tight
against his body. His breath stirred the hairs on her neck as he nibbled the
nape. The tiny nips and stings sent a swift bolt of excitement through her body
to her clit. She moaned as her juices collected at the apex of her thighs, and
he rightly took the noise as a sign of assent.

"Do you know what I'd like to do with you?
To coat you in intricate patterns of wax.
To tie you, un-sight
you and show you the joys of bondage and spanking. To introduce you to the
delights that are more, so much more than most people ever think can be
achieved. I feel you would be a willing and eager pupil, and I a most ardent
teacher." Tony spoke the words softly in her ear, but there was no
mistaking their intensity.

Her arse clasped tightly as he ground his cock into
her quim, and Susanna did nothing to stop him. She might as well get one tiny glimpse
of his mastery before she said
enough
.
His words had her body tight with arousal. Her clitoris stung with the need to
be touched, as her juices gathered and coated her nether curls. With great
daring, Susanna bent her head to allow him greater access to the uncovered skin,
and ran her hand over the fine wool of his jacket.