Her Gift - Bundle Pack (3 page)

“Call me Mary, dear. We’ll be great
friends, I’m certain.” Her eyes sparkled and shone. And Charlotte’s
heart flipped over in her chest.

Trent chuckled lightly from behind
her. “Great friends, indeed.”

Her Gift – The
Houseparty

By Laurel
Bennett

Charlotte Stansbury fretted over the
folds of her gown, flattening and pressing it with the palm of her
hand, over and over. If she stopped, she would most certainly have
to speak to him. Him – that enigma of a man who sat so calmly
beside her in the carriage, the Duke of Randallshire. The gentleman
-- and she wondered if he could even claim to be a gentleman,
despite his title – sat motionless beside her.

“I sincerely hope you enjoyed your
afternoon,” he said casually.

As though she’d spent the afternoon
knitting or enjoying a social circle. He knew perfectly well what
she’d been doing, since he planned the assignation. Heat flooded
Charlotte’s face. She’d planned for an afternoon tryst with a man
known for his prowess in the bedchamber. And she hadn’t gotten that
at all. She’d gotten something else. Something wholly
unexpected.

“You don’t know how to thank me, do
you?” he asked softly, reaching one gentle hand forward and
touching her cheek lightly. “Or are you too embarrassed to make the
attempt?”

Embarrassed. That was an odd choice of
words. Oddly appropriate. “I don’t know how to respond,” Charlotte
admitted.

He turned so that her body faced his
in the carriage. “A simple thank you will suffice.”

His knees brushed her skirt, and she
didn’t jump in fear of him. She didn’t fear him at all. How odd.
“Trent,” she began.

“I like hearing my name on your lips,”
he said, his head dipping dangerously closer to hers. Her heart
began a mad thump within her chest. His soft, damp breath brushed
her cheek.

“Do you plan to kiss me?” she
whispered back, leaning toward him as though there was an invisible
draw between them.

He was gone within an instant. She
immediately felt the loss of him. But then the tip of his index
finger started a slow slide across the exposed skin of her bodice.
“Tell me how it felt to kiss Mary,” he prompted. A ghost of a grin
played around his lips. “Stop worrying about how society would view
your afternoon. Worry about how I view it, instead.” He took her
hand and pressed it against his cock, which formed a taut tent
beneath his trousers.

Charlotte didn’t pull her hand back.
He didn’t pressure her to touch him. He just let her hand linger
there. She tested the length of him with her fingertips, and a
sharp hiss left his lips.

“All I can think about is what you did
with Mary,” he said with a wide grin. “I’m dying to know
more.”

“Why did you do it?” Charlotte asked.
He’d arranged for her to have an afternoon with a lady, a
seductress, a beautiful vision of a woman with a giving nature and
a wicked tongue. “Mary says you find out what a lady needs and then
you provide it.”

He looked slightly chagrined. “Mary
talks too much.”

“I don’t understand it. My appointment
was with you. Not with Mary.” She took a deep breath and then
continued, though the very thought of the conversation hurt her
heart beyond measure. “Do you not find me attractive? If you didn’t
want to be with me, you could have just said so.”

“Does it feel as though I don’t find
you attractive?” he drawled as he took her hand and forced her grip
around his cock. He groaned aloud when she tested the girth of him,
and laid his head back on the squabs, regarding her from beneath
lowered lashes.

“Then why?” she asked
again.

They’d flirted for weeks. She’d still
been in her widow’s weeds, continuing her mourning for an
appropriate amount of time, but the moment she’d replaced the grey
with a dress of color, he’d asked her to dance at a formal ball. It
had surprised her, to say the least. He was the Duke of
Randallshire, for heaven’s sake. What on earth might he want with a
widow of her age and standing?

“Why me?” she asked again.

His gaze searched her face. “You do
not see what I see. And that is owed to your late husband, horrid
man that he was. I am taking it upon myself to right his
wrongs.”

Charlotte sat back against the leather
seat. “He did you a wrong, didn’t he?”

“No, but in my research, I discovered
that he did you a wrong.”

More than one, but that was
her cross to bear. Not his. “Why?” she couldn’t help but
ask.
Why me? Why now? Why give me a gift
of a day with Mary?
She wanted to ask all
these things and more.

He ignored her question. “Make me a
happy man and tell me about your time with Mary,” he said. He
lifted her hand from his cock, and laid it in her lap.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What would make you think that?” He
smiled a wicked smile at her.

Her gaze shifted from his mouth to his
cock, and she arched a brow.

“I like to prolong the pleasure,” he
said, his voice a silky crawl up her skin.

“How did you meet Mary?”

“I went to Cambridge with her
husband.” He folded his hands in his lap.

“Her husband?”

“She calls him her master, but it’s
really a little game they play. She has him wrapped around her
finger. He follows her about like a spaniel, drooling all over her
skirts.”

Charlotte inhaled heavily. “If he
loves her so much, why on earth would he let her come to me? Let
her do the intimate things she did with me.” Her skin heated and
her nipples tightened at the mere thought of Mary’s fingertips
trailing over her goose-flesh. At the memory of her mouth kissing
all of her private places. At the recollection of Mary making her
come. “She made me climax,” she blurted. Then she buried her face
in her cupped hands in shame.

Trent chuckled from beside her. “I had
a feeling that’s how events would transpire. She’s a clever lady.
With a wicked mouth.”

“You’ve availed yourself of it?” She
didn’t want to ask the question. But it erupted like a teakettle
when it began to blow steam.

“Do you want the answer to that
question?”

“How odd. She gave me the same
response.”

Before they could get any farther into
the conversation, the carriage rolled to a stop and the footman
lowered the step, then opened the door to let Trent descend. He
held a hand out to her. “Fair warning, good lady,” he said from
outside the door. “If you step one foot inside the duke and
duchess’s home, your life may change forever.”

Change? Goodness, she could use some
change. She reached her hand toward his and he took it in his
strong grip, gave it a gentle squeeze and helped her from the
carriage.

As they walked up the stone staircase
to the front of the manor house, Charlotte plucked at her gown and
fretted with her hair. “Stop that,” Trent warned. “You look
beautiful.”

Her belly dropped down toward her
toes. Who would have thought a compliment would hit her like a team
of runaway horses? “Thank you,” Charlotte croaked.

She stopped in front of the duke and
duchess and waited for an introduction. The duchess was a regal
creature, with her tumbling golden curls piled high atop her head.
Her neck arched delicately to reveal naked shoulders and a
beautiful dip in her bodice. It wasn’t until Charlotte looked
directly into the duchess’s eyes that she got the shock of a
lifetime. “Your Grace,” she sputtered. Charlotte dropped into a
quick curtsy.

“Call me Mary, dear. We’ll be great
friends, I’m certain.” Her eyes sparkled and shone. And Charlotte’s
heart nearly leapt from her chest.

Trent chuckled lightly from behind
her. “Great friends, indeed.” He took Charlotte’s arm and led her
into the home.

Mary was the duchess. The woman she’d
been led to believe was a maid was a duchess. A duchess had looked
up at her from between her thighs that very afternoon, her pretty
blue eyes blinking as she’d brought Charlotte to a passionate
release.

“Breathe, my darling,” Trent murmured
in her ear.

“You should have told me,” she hissed
back at him. “She’s a duchess, for God’s sake.”

“She’s a woman,” he said with a shrug.
“And she wasn’t always a lady. She was an actress, once upon a
time. Then she captivated my good friend, Charles, and the rest is
history.” Trent bent so that his head was close to the side of her
neck, and let his next words move over her skin like a caress. “I
find myself horrendously jealous that she has tasted you and I have
not.” He lightly kissed the side of her neck and Charlotte
shuddered with the pleasure of it. “She has rubbed your nipples on
her tongue. And she has kissed her way down your body.”

“Stop it,” Charlotte warned. Her
thighs were growing wet from her body’s delicious reaction to his
words. “It’s scandalous.”

“As are we, my darling,” he said with
a chuckle.

They rounded the corner and walked
into a room. Charlotte stopped in her tracks. On the settee rested
a man who wore proper evening clothes. And at his feet sat a woman
who wore nothing. Charlotte turned to walk back in the direction
they’d come. But Trent’s hand around her waist stopped her. He drew
her into a secluded corner.

“There are some rules. First names
only, while we’re here,” he said. “No titles. No family crests. No
rules of the peerage. Everyone here is in a committed relationship
with their significant other. If not, they are not permitted to
enter.”

“Are we in a committed relationship?”
she asked.

“The day you agreed to come to my bed,
it became a committed relationship.” He brushed a lock of hair from
her cheek. “Everyone here is sworn to secrecy. And well-screened
before admittance. So, any activity in which we partake will remain
a secret, if that has you concerned.”

“We are expected to partake?” she
began. Then she hissed, “Of others?”

He shrugged. “I choose to partake of
you. If you choose to partake of others, we can discuss it. But,
truth be told, I prefer to keep you for myself.” His brow rose at
what must have been her shocked expression. “Have I surprised
you?”

With the naked people? With the house
party? With the gift of Mary, who’d brought her to climax? With any
of this? “A little,” she finally squeaked.

“There’s a club we all frequent called
Decadence. It’s like this.” He gestured to those around him. “But
on a much grander scale. When you’re ready, I’ll take you there.
This is merely a small sampling of what Decadence
offers.”

Just then, a couple came through the
door and joined the others on the settee. The four of them talked
as though the woman on her knees was not naked, once the man gave
her permission to do so. “This is surreal,” Charlotte
breathed.

Then Mary walked into the room and
approached Charlotte with a large smile. “Are you terribly angry at
me?” she asked.

Angry? Shocked out of her stockings
would be more like it.

“She’s having trouble finding the
appropriate words,” Trent said with a chuckle.

The duke walked up behind them all and
said loudly. “The word would be thank you. Thank you for the loan
of my wife for the afternoon.” He grinned broadly. Then continued
when Charlotte’s tongue refused to work. “You’re welcome.” He
laughed and clapped Trent on the shoulder. “Take a seat,” he
offered.

Trent drew Charlotte to a wide-armed
chair and sat down in it, then patted his knee as he tugged her
fingertips. “Sit?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

“On your lap?” she
squeaked.

“I can’t think of a more appropriate
place. Or one that’s more enjoyable for me.” He very gently pulled
her into his lap and tucked her there. Then he whispered in her
ear. “I’m anxious to hold you, since I haven’t had the pleasure
yet.”

Mary laughed from the other side of
the room. “I had all the pleasure,” she called out. “I experienced
it first hand.”

“I’m jealous,” Trent called
back.

A few more couples filtered into the
room. Most were dressed, but a few men had their cravats untied.
They looked supremely comfortable. Trent’s hand played slowly up
and down Charlotte’s arm. “Why do I feel like I’m missing
something?” Charlotte asked Trent.

“Relax. I promise not to let anyone or
anything hurt you.” He took her chin in his hand. “Do you trust
me?”

She didn’t know him well enough to
trust him. Not yet. But she supposed she should give him the
benefit of the doubt.

The duke, or Charles as he was to be
called, faced the small crowd and clapped his hands. “I promised my
wife a boon if she would handle a little matter for my good friend
this afternoon. And I believe she earned a reward?” He looked
toward Charlotte as though for confirmation. She buried her head in
Trent’s shoulder, instead.

Trent spoke for her. “She was well
satisfied,” he supplied. Then he shifted his seat, his rigid cock
pressing into Charlotte’s thigh. “Me, on the other hand,” he
murmured to Charlotte with a grin. Then he whispered,
“Later?”