Just One Taste (35 page)

M
onday
, June 16, 1818

C
atherine watched
as her husband wrapped the string of pearls around her throat, twisting until they formed a perfect collar beneath his brown fingers. They were tight, as they should be. With every swallow, she knew they were there.

The pearls were a reward for her obedience, each sphere a symbol of the purity she happily no longer possessed. Her reflection and the pearls’ luster were blurred in the old freckled mirror. She didn’t need to see the evidence of their last hour, didn’t need to acknowledge what she had let him do.

Had wanted him to do, with all her heart.

His lips skimmed her shoulder, sending a shiver to her core. She loved him more than was wise, more than was fashionable. She loved him in ways which would have been unthinkable just days ago, when she was an ignorant virgin bride.

Well, not so ignorant. She’d had her hand and her fantasies. But lying with Nicholas was so much better, although he still withheld a part of himself from her.

Any young woman would have been in transports to become Lady Harland for his face alone, but Nicholas had chosen her—awkward, shy Catherine Kerr, who stumbled over her words and blushed at the slightest provocation.

She’d been disbelieving when her father told her of Nicholas’s intentions. Her dowry was unexceptional—certainly not enough to attract a man in need of funds—and he barely knew her. They’d only danced the once!

They knew each other much better now. He barely had to lift an eyebrow and she was down on her knees for him. He must have seen something within her, something that convinced him that she would be a willing partner to his play.

As she was, God forgive her. Nicholas was the answer to her every forbidden prayer. The days since her wedding had been heaven.

He palmed a breast now, his warm thumb brushing her newly-pierced nipple. A teardrop pearl hung from a thin gold wire, and he tugged it between his fingers. Catherine closed her eyes to the discomfort, and remained still as he manipulated the jewelry on each breast, sliding the circle through the holes he had made in her skin. Walking to the bedside table, he poured a splash of brandy on a handkerchief and returned, cleaning each areola with tender attention. Catherine inhaled sharply but stood motionless.

“Beautiful Cat.”

“B-but I’m not.” It was he who was the beautiful one—coal-black hair, sky-blue eyes, devil’s lips. Lips that teased and tormented, leaving a trail of fire behind, like the brandy he had used on her breasts.

“You are beautiful to me. Now, especially that you wear my jewels. And my marks. Look.” His hand settled on her rump and she swallowed more pain. He guided her closer to the mirror, turning her so she could see the evidence of her submission.

He had been careful where he caned her, deliberate. He seemed enamored with her buttocks, the deep pink stripes distanced precisely an inch apart.

“I’ll have to d-dine standing up.” Her hand flew to her mouth at her presumptuous complaint. She would dine upside down if that is what he wished.

He gently took her fingers away and thrust them, one by one, into his mouth, his eyes smiling at hers. Her fingertips tingled as his tongue swirled, then he placed her hand on his stiffening cock. “I shall feed you, Cat. You are much too thin.”

That was patently ridiculous. But Nicholas had told her he liked a plump woman, and everything he had arranged for her to eat had featured rich sauces and thick cream and sprinkled sugar. He himself ate rather Spartan fare, but he was insistent that she indulge.

“I suppose we shall have to d-dress to go d-downstairs.” He was almost as alluring in evening clothes as he was nude. Her husband was devastating in or out of the bedroom, not that they had left it for two and a half days. And with Nicholas growing ever more potent in her hand, the likelihood of her leaving the darkened room soon was in question.

He covered her hand, assisting with her tentative strokes. “I think not. I’ve told Rivers to bring up a tray again.”

Catherine blushed. “What w-will your staff th-think of us, N-Nicholas?”

He kissed the top of her head. “They will think we are on our honeymoon, Cat. Harland Hall has needed a mistress for some time. They will forgive you anything, I expect. They’d given up on me settling down, you know.” He grinned lazily and tapped her lips. “And now you’ve tamed me.”

Catherine thought it was rather the opposite—it was he who had mastered her so completely she could barely think straight. She was wet and hot and sore and needy. Since her marriage, she’d left misery behind and was living her dream.

“Is that why you m-married me? To appease your s-servants?”

“Why else? Good help is hard to find,” he teased.

Had he looked into her soul at the Calverleigh ball and recognized her need to be dominated? She had not even known it possible in practice between seemingly normal people—had known
nothing
, really. Her father had certainly not sat down the eve before her wedding to explain what to expect. The poor man would probably have an apoplexy to discover what his little girl had done as Lady Harland. And was about to do again.

Nicholas pushed her down to her knees. “Watch us. Watch yourself.”

The image was hazy. Nicholas swept up her red-gold hair in a fist and pushed her to him. Her mouth opened, then received as much of the broad length of him she could manage. His eyes met hers in the mirror, and she flushed at her wanton behavior. But she wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t. Nicholas was not to be denied anything.

She knew what to do now, basked in his encouraging smile as she suckled him to completion. His gaze held hers as he spilled himself against her tongue.

After his last thrust, he gentled her away and raised her up. “You are a quick study.”

“Th-thank you, Nicholas,” she replied softly. He couldn’t know she’d done this so many times before in her fantasies.

“Rest now. I have a—a surprise for you tonight.” His voice sounded odd.

“You are l-leaving me?” She didn’t want him to go.

“Just for a few hours. I’ll send up one of the maids to help you bathe. But not dress,” he winked. He gathered up his banyan from the wing chair, gave her a small salute, and shut the door. Catherine heard the click of the key turning in the lock.

Locked in
. But she had no intention of going exploring— Nicholas had told her the house was a vast warren of rooms that needed refurbishing, some of them unsafe. She’d only seen the gloomy exterior in an overgrown park at dusk when he brought her here after the ceremony. He’d rushed her upstairs to celebrate their hasty wedding before she’d even had a chance to meet all the servants or inspect the property.

And he’d not let her out of the room since, not that she wanted to go anywhere. Half the time, she was gloriously tied, so leaving was impossible anyway. But at some point she would have to become the mistress that the servants had despaired of ever having.

Nicholas was still a stranger—an intimate one, to be sure, but they had not spent much time talking. And Catherine couldn’t be sorry.

But he’d mentioned a surprise. Did it mean he would finally have sexual congress with her the way most husbands did with their wives? He had yet to penetrate her vagina with anything but the crop and a handful of very interesting toys. She was technically no longer a virgin—a bit of blood on the worn sheets had proven that as she had been stretch almost beyond bearing by an enormous marble dildo.

But she’d loved the pleasure-pain of it, and Nicholas knew it. He was aware of everything she needed. The gentle humiliation. The confinement of her limbs. The muffling of her mouth. The blindfold and the punishment. All of it almost keyed her to her crisis without him laying a finger on her.

However, she wanted his cock inside her. Perhaps he was afraid of getting her with child, but surely he knew the way to prevent that. She had no interest in becoming a mother just yet—she was enjoying her introduction to bondage much too much to think of anyone’s needs but her own.

Exactly, she chided herself. Nicholas’s needs took priority, and if he was unwilling to become an ordinary husband, she had no right to complain.

N
icholas opened
his study door to find Anthony Sheffield, his booted feet propped up on the battered desk, a cloud of cheroot smoke masking the air.

“Well? How is married life?”

“I’ve done it. That’s all that should matter.” Nicholas threw himself in the chair opposite, feeling the oppression steal into his heart.

This wasn’t fair to Cat. In the few days she’d been his wife, she had been a revelation. Her awakening to his unnatural needs had been more than he had a right to ask for.

And she was lovely, with peachy skin and all that Titian hair, like something out of an Italian Renaissance painting.

“Is she as biddable as I thought?”

“More so.” If only he had time, Nicholas could mold her into the perfect woman. She was close to being that now.

“Better than my Diana?”

Nicholas shut his eyes, pushing the thought of his mad sister from his mind. Cat was better than anyone—her earnest sweetness almost quelled the devil that resided within him.

But he was in a hell of his own making. If he didn’t cooperate with Sheffield, his sister would never be free.

No one even knew he
had
a sister any more. Nicholas’s parents had been convinced that she had died. In a way, she had. There was little of Diana left. There would be nothing soon unless Nicholas was successful in getting her out of Sheffield’s clutches.

So Nicholas had made his bridegroom’s bargain.

He was pained to recognize that he and his sister’s seducer shared the same vice, the need to utterly dominate. They had met in a flogging club, after all, Nicholas unaware that the older man he shared a woman with was responsible for Diana’s ruination. He had been foolish enough to think Sheffield a friend until the man brought him home two weeks ago to see his long-lost sister tied to the bed, drugged and bruised from head to toe.

Nicholas hadn’t gone to the authorities. Sheffield held the mortgages to Harland Hall, had bought up Nicholas’s debts. One word from the man, and he’d be in debtors’ prison, where he would be of no use to his sister at all.

Nicholas was powerless. What else could he do but agree to all this? Sheffield was out to ruin him too.

Cat would never forgive him after tonight.

Sheffield thrived on tormenting his bed partners, going as far as he could go without permanent damage. Nicholas had not even wanted to cane Cat’s lovely white bottom so thoroughly, but Sheffield had insisted there be proof of his depravity, and Cat had actually enjoyed it. Wanted it.
Begged
for it. She was incandescent when she was tied and whipped, her smile behind the gag so beautiful it broke his heart.

In a bittersweet twist, Sheffield had given Nicholas back his mother’s pearls and earbobs, which had been pawned long ago. Told him exactly where they were to be placed.

Nicholas remembered Cat’s patience as his shaking hands pierced her breasts yesterday. How she’d glowed under his crude ministrations. Looked up at him with utter trust. If he had an ounce of honor, he’d shoot Sheffield, and then turn the gun upon himself.

“I knew as soon as I saw her we could make something of her. All that stammering and eye-fluttering. She was just dying for someone to take her in hand. Too bad she didn’t come with more money, though. But time was of the essence, what?” Sheffield blew a smoke ring over his head. “Yours was quite the whirl-wind courtship. Well done.”

Nicholas gritted his teeth. “You were there for all of it. You’ve brought Diana home?”

“In her old bedroom, my boy, right and tight.”

“You didn’t restrain her!”

“Why, of course I did. Wouldn’t want her getting loose and joining our fun tonight. She’s a greedy little hoyden. I must say, I’m looking forward to some fresh cunny. Diana has become quite boring.”

Nicholas would not let this bastard touch his new wife. Undeserved blissful days with Cat had shown him the impossibility of going through with this hellish scheme. He had not expected her lush body or her lavish trust in him.

He had not expected to fall in love with her or feel the responsibility of his vows, but for some reason, he had and he did.

Love—an impossible, unobtainable ideal for one such as he. Cat was dependent on him. He could not, would not betray her.

It had been hell not to consummate their marriage in the usual way. But to leave Cat with his child as well as his sister was an intolerable thought.

They should go away today—leave the land that had been in his family’s name since the Domesday Book. If he allowed Sheffield to touch his wife here, the place would be tainted forever. As it was, the house was falling down around his head.

And now he was subjugated himself, a pawn in Sheffield’s diabolical game.

“I want the markers burned. Now.”

Sheffield snorted. “Not so fast, Nick. Let’s wait until morning, eh? After I’ve sampled your wife. Then you can go back to your happy little family life with your mad sister and your debauched bride.”

A muscle jumped in Nicholas’s cheek. “Why have you done this, Sheffield?”

“Why not? It has amused me to bring down the illustrious house of Harland. Your father was a fool. The man had no head for business, you know. It was child’s play to make sure you all didn’t have a pot to piss in. I reckon I’ve almost had my revenge for your mother’s breaking my heart, not that I ever had much of one. Diana was useful enough, but fucking your bride will be icing on the cake.”

The thought of Sheffield coupling with his mother—
beating
her—made Nicholas’s stomach roil. The man before him might have been his father in another universe.

Nicholas stood up abruptly. “What have you told Rivers?” His butler headed a skeleton crew of servants, most of whom were too old and settled to seek better-paying employment.

“That your poor sister is ill after her ordeal and needs complete rest. Don’t worry. I brought Mrs. Jones with me to tend her while we conclude our business. She knows what to do.”

The woman was as vile as her employer. For Diana’s sake, Nicholas hoped his sister had been liberally dosed with laudanum to enable her to sleep her captivity away. Nicholas longed for the drug himself, to blot out the next few hours.

“I want to see her.”

Sheffield shook his head. “Can’t be done. Mrs. Jones has her orders. She’s armed, you know, with a brace of deadly little pistols, and she won’t hesitate to use them. Either on you
or
your sister. Will you be dining with me tonight?”

As if Nicholas could swallow anything but bile. “I told Catherine we would have dinner in our room. I—I want to prepare her.” Nicholas already had a cache of vinegar-soaked sponges. He just couldn’t figure out how to get Catherine to agree to wear one.

Nonsense. She’d agree to anything he suggested. For a very short time, Nicholas Harland would be her master in all things.

“Just tie her up good and tight, Nick. I’m not fussy. Think, when the cock crows, it will all be over. Unless, of course, I get a brat on your bride. You won’t ever know, will you? You’ll always wonder about your first-born.”

Just the one night
. After that…

Nicholas couldn’t think what tomorrow would bring.