My Three Masters (6 page)

She smiled wistfully over the rim of her teacup. “We’re very
fortunate, let us never forget.”

A long moment of quiet, then he asked, “Have you visited the
nursery yet this morning?”

“I stopped in earlier, but Rose was still asleep. The spots
are nearly entirely gone. I do believe Graham is right, and we must be more
careful with the laundering. I saw no sign of Miranda, but no sign she’d left.”

“She won’t leave,” declared the Marquis from the doorway.

“Why, you look positively disreputable!” Alicia exclaimed.
“Did you not sleep at all?”

“Must I fire my valet? I told him to make me look like
peaches and cream or his position would be forfeit.”

“Beau Brummel himself couldn’t make silk out of that sow’s
ear,” said the Duke, gesturing at his friend.

The Marquis ambled in. Dark stubble studded his jaw and deep
grooves marked his cheeks. “She won’t leave,” he repeated. “She can’t.”

“Of course she can. We’re not going to hold her hostage.
She’s free to go. I’ll personally make sure she has enough coin to travel and
find a new position.” Alicia set down her cup with a clink. “Did you chase her
down only to quarrel with her?”

“Better. I tempted her.” He strolled to the sideboard and
began lifting the covers of the various dishes. “If there isn’t a rebellious
streak inside that girl, I don’t know the female gender. And you will both
acknowledge that’s impossible.”

The Duke tilted his head. “Perhaps you don’t know this
particular member of the female gender as well as you think you do.”

“I admit to some gaps in my knowledge, which I’m attempting
to fill.” The Marquis gave him a sharp glance over his shoulder. “Have you
discovered something?”

“You don’t think I’d let someone take care of my child
without thoroughly investigating her, do you?”

The Marquis abandoned the tongs mid-sausage selection and
hurried to the table. “What did you learn?”

“Hold on. I respect her privacy. Why should I tell you her
secrets?”

“Because I’ll jump across this table and throttle you if you
don’t.”

Alicia gasped, but the Duke only gave her a rueful glance.
“You had it right, my dear. He is indeed head over heels for her.”

The Marquis set his hands on the table and leaned over it
with a snarl on his dark face. “I’m not in a mood to be toyed with.”

“Left…er, hanging last night, were you?”

Alicia put her hand on the Duke’s arm. “Don’t torment the
poor man, dearest. If you know something you can reveal, please do so before he
has an apoplexy.”

“Very well. I unearthed her family name. Her real family
name.”

“And…” A vein throbbed in the Marquis’ forehead.

“You must promise to keep this information private, and not
to use it to coerce her to stay or anything along those lines. If our ways are
too outlandish for her, she’s free to go.”

“Yes, yes.”

“I have your solemn promise?”

“Warrington, I swear I will—”

“Hampton. Her family name is Hampton.”

“Hampton. But that’s one of England’s oldest names. There
must be dozens of branches. Which one? Northumberland? Sussex? Is she any
relation to the current Duke?”

“I’ve told you all I know. I swear it.”

The Marquis abandoned his breakfast and stalked to the
French door that opened onto the terrace. He seemed blind to the climbing pink
roses that tumbled over the terrace walls like curls over a maiden’s forehead.
“I’ve never been so bedeviled by a girl in this manner. And I seem to have no
hope of winning her trust. Alicia, what does she say of me?
Merde
, I
sound like a schoolboy pining after a local beauty. And she’s scarred!”

“She is beautiful, nonetheless,” said the Duke thoughtfully.
Alicia raised an eyebrow at him. “You must admit she has something unusual
about her. A type of dreaminess, as if she has one foot in our world and the
other somewhere else entirely.”

The Marquis shrugged away that flight of fancy. “Alicia, I
beg of you, have you gathered any clues that might help me?”

“Well…” Alicia worried at her lower lip with her teeth.
“She’s wary, no doubt. But she didn’t turn tail when I told her you took my
virginity. Nor when I lectured her on how we were different from most
households. I believe we intrigue her, unless we’ve managed to scare her off
completely. I believe there’s more to her than meets the eye. Perhaps you’ve
been taking the wrong approach.”

“What approach? I haven’t done a blasted thing.”

“Precisely. Mayhap you’ve been too gentle. Perhaps she
doesn’t want to be treated like fine china you’re afraid to break. Like many of
us, perhaps she wants to be… Well…”

The Marquis scowled. “What? What might she want?”

“To be mastered.”

He straightened as if struck dumb. “Mastered?”

“You know very well how. You’re the master of it, if I may
say so. One more thing,” added Alicia, tapping a thoughtful finger against her
cheek. “I believe she likes horses.”

“Horses?”

“I saw her at the stables on her free afternoon. Not riding,
just petting and murmuring to Nymph, the chestnut mare who’s about to foal.
Perhaps, assuming she doesn’t run for the hills, you should take for her a
ride.”

Sweetbriar Manor—a few days later

Perhaps another girl would have packed her bags and left
immediately. I considered it, honestly I did. I lay awake the rest of that night
pondering my future, and the shocking truth that had been revealed to me. Not
the scene I’d witnessed. But the knowledge that had struck me the moment I saw
the Marquis’ powerful naked body and that fierce, dusky rod between his legs. I
wanted the Marquis. I wanted him with every fiber of my being. No one in
perhaps my whole life had looked at me and seen to the bottom of my soul the
way he did.

Even worse, more shocking than that—I wanted to know what it
felt like to be Lady Alicia. To be naked and adored, to be the center of so
much desire and loving attention. Leave? Impossible.

Over the next few days, I resumed my daily life as normal.
None of us made any reference to what had occurred. The Countess and I
experienced no awkwardness, for which I was supremely grateful. I returned to
caring for Rose. The Marquis went back to London, which gave me some time to
compose myself.

Every two weeks I was given an afternoon off—all the
household servants were. Most used the time to visit their families or walk to
the village. I had no desire to leave Sweetbriar. Instead I explored the
grounds. I walked the gardens, visited the stables, even ventured into the
fields. Sometimes I imagined I was the girl I should have been, coming to visit
as an honored guest. I imagined cricket games on the wide lawn, picnics by the
river, strawberry picking in the nearby hills.

One such afternoon, I discovered a little pavilion beyond
the gardens. Its columns were twined with royal purple clematis and benches
lined the interior. Too restless to sit, I drifted from one flower-draped
column to another and imagined a suitor lounging on the bench, beckoning me
with his dark, wicked eyes. Eyes suspiciously like those of—

“You’re not easy to find, my child.”

The Marquis.

I whirled around. He leaned against one of the columns, an
extravagant purple clematis bloom brushing his face. Color rushed into my face.

“I was just… Milady said I could…”

“Now, now, no panic, please. I came to give you a surprise.”

Alarm filled me. Though I no longer believed all the evil
things his wife had told me about the Marquis, he still fascinated me, the way
a snake compels a mouse. “A good one?”

He raised an eyebrow; perhaps I’d surprised him. “I believe
so. You, of course, will be the final judge. Will you come?”

A flurry of thoughts flew through my mind. What were his
intentions? Why would he even think about me enough to give me a surprise? And
what if it were something naughty, something deliciously, improperly,
dangerously naughty?

I shook myself free from my fantasies. “Very well.” I used
my best girl-of-the-manor tone.

“Capital.” He offered his arm. I trembled as I took it. “Do
I scare you, Miranda?” he asked in a low voice. “I’d hoped by now that you’d
come to trust me a bit more.”

“Oh! No, it’s not that, I promise you. The terror has
faded.”

He gave a wry smile. “I’m glad to hear it. And yet you
shuddered when I took your arm.”

“A chill.” How could I tell him my reaction was not one of
fear, but anticipation because I’d imagined touching him so many times? The
reality was even more thrilling than the fantasy. His arm was hard with
muscles, and when he pressed my hand into his side, the warmth of his body
radiated into me.

“On a warm summer day?”

I didn’t answer. It was impolite of him to press me, but
equally impolite to point out his rudeness. The change in my circumstances
hadn’t robbed me of my knowledge of etiquette.

He changed the subject, as he ought. “I mention the warmth
of the day because it inspired my surprise.” We reached the path that led back
to the main house. “You have a few hours free today, do you not?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to rob you of your personal time, but I
thought you might enjoy the opportunity to—” He stopped and looked in the
direction of the stables. Two groomsmen were approaching us, leading two
magnificent horses. One was Devil, the Marquis’ black stallion. The other was a
dainty roan mare with a white patch on her chest. She halted before me and
looked at me with big dark eyes. Just like that, I fell in love.

“This fine filly needs her exercise. I have enough on my
hands with Devil here, and Alicia hasn’t had time for riding since the baby was
born. I was hoping you might be willing to accompany us. That is, Devil, Candy
and me.”

I could barely squeak out a word. As a girl, I’d been
horse-mad. Hurtling across the fields on my beloved Kitty had been the closest
I’d ever come to paradise. Then, after my parents were killed, my guardian had
sold Kitty and limited my riding to the dullest swaybacks in the stables. And
now…this strange, terrifying, oddly tender man was inviting me to mount the
most perfect mare imaginable.

A haze of tears blurred my vision and my throat closed up. I
couldn’t speak a word, not even “thank you”. I reached out and patted the
mare’s neck. She neighed and ducked her head as if in greeting. The heavenly
smell of horseflesh, warm and earthy, with a tang of leather from her saddle,
filled my nostrils.

The Marquis smiled. “You look like you were made for each
other. Shall we?”

I nodded, blinking back my tears.

He put his foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle,
the easy motion like music to my eyes. Only now did I notice he wore riding
boots. But all I had was the dress Lady Dorchester had given me. Of course I
didn’t have a riding habit. Nursemaids had no need of any such thing.

The Marquis seemed to read my thoughts.

“Come. Don’t worry about the lack of a habit. It’s just a
short ride. If your gown is the worse for wear, I’ll acquire a new one for you.
It’ll be worth it, I promise. How long has it been since you’ve been on
horseback?”

My throat was still heavy with emotion and I could answer
only with a shake of my head.

“Come then. Would you like Ned to help you mount?”

I wore my wooden pattens; completely inappropriate for
riding a horse, and mounting would be the most difficult moment. I nodded. Ned
came forward and put down an apple box as a makeshift mounting block. I put one
foot on it, then the other. I whispered to Candy, giving her soothing strokes,
watching the muscles under her hide ripple in response.

And then something caught Devil’s eye and he began to
fidget. He neighed, then reared into the air, pawing with his forelegs. The
Marquis sharply pulled in the reins and barked a command.

“Better take this, milord.” His groom came as close as he
dared and handed something up to him. As the Marquis bent down and reached
toward the man, the item in his hand drew my fascinated, appalled attention.

A riding crop.

I jerked backward, stumbling off the mounting block. Ned
tried to catch me, but he didn’t reach me in time. I tumbled onto the path, my
skirts flying up around me. Horrified, I pushed them down and rolled over,
struggling to gain my feet.

“What happened?” the Marquis roared. “Help her, man!”

Ned bent down next to me but I pushed him away. I felt sick,
ill, as if I might lose the contents of my stomach. I could practically hear
the whoosh of the crop through the air, the sting as it landed on the horse’s
flanks. My cheek flinched and my scar burned. I cried out in confusion.
Everything seemed to swirl around me—Ned’s worried young face, the stately oaks
that lined the pathway, the green lawn, the gravel beneath me. I took great
gulps of air, fighting for sanity.

Run, run
, my blood chanted, just as it had the day it
happened.
Get to your feet and run.

Somehow my body obeyed. Tripping over my skirts—more ruined
than they would have been by an innocent horse ride—I scrambled to my feet.

“Leave me be,” I managed to tell Ned. And then I ran. Not to
the house—too many people. I ran toward the lake, a place where I might lose
myself, where I’d be safe, where… But I was beyond reason. I ran because that’s
all I knew.

Behind me, I heard the Marquis swear. I heard him call to
his groom, swing off his horse, heard his heavy boots hit the ground. Footsteps
chased after me.

I ran through the woods, into a grove of birch trees that
looked like slender white maidens. I heard footsteps behind me, and the sound
of the Marquis cursing. I had the advantage of terror, but he had the edge in
swiftness. I stumbled over a tree root and fell headlong onto the dirt. Even
though I instantly scrambled to my knees, he caught up to me. He dropped to his
knees and grabbed one of my legs to prevent my escape.

“I didn’t know,” he panted. “I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”

I went still, the way a fox does when scenting the air to
decide on the best path. Then I cried out, “Let me be,” and tried to kick away
from him.

He only tightened his grip. I sobbed and kicked again.
“Release me! Release me, you beast!”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Miranda. I would never hurt
you.”

Should I believe him? Did I believe him? In the next moment,
none of that mattered, because he covered my body with his and claimed my
mouth. I trembled violently at the fierce sensation of hot, invading flesh. All
thoughts melted in an inferno of desire. When he speared his tongue into my
eager mouth, my knees turned to flowing honey. I felt the pounding of his heart
under his riding jacket. It made me think of muscles and sinew and dark
possibilities. I squeezed my thighs together, feeling an eager throb animate my
woman’s parts.

He gave a rough exclamation. “You are a witch,” he muttered.
“When I’m near you I can think of nothing but stripping the clothing from your
body and stroking you with my tongue.”

I moaned in response. He put his hand to the modest neckline
of my pink dress. “If I could, I’d rip this right off you.” Instead he traced
the edge with his finger as shivers shot through me. Then he placed his hand on
my breast and I jumped. The tip became so hard, so immediately, I wondered if
it would thrust itself right through the cloth.

He rubbed his palm over me and I cried out. When he filled
both hands with my bosom, my back arched off the grass.

“That feels good, does it? Oh if I could have you stretched
out before me, your arms tied overhead, how I would feast on you.” He said that
last as if to himself, but the words scorched a pathway through my addled
brain. The hot tone of his voice, his provocative words, set off a clamor
inside of want and naked craving.

I peeked through my lashes at him, thrilled by the way his
eyes lit with black fire. With another muffled curse, he grasped my wrists in
one hand and pinned them to the ground above my head. With the other hand,
without ceremony, he reached into my bodice and uncovered my bosom. Full and
fleshy, my breasts tumbled into the open air, their peaks tight and eager. Air
brushed across them, a mist-scented breeze mixed with the hot breath of the
Marquis. At first he merely stared at them, but even that stirred their
excitement to new heights.

“What lovely, plump nipples you have,” he said, his voice
thick. He brushed his thumb across the very tip of one. I twisted at the wild
sensation, my wrists tugging against his iron grip.

“Be still,” he commanded.

Still? It seemed impossible with the way he was consuming my
body with his eyes and touch. But I clung to the authority in his voice, the
calm strength and the utter conviction that everything he did would be
sublimely pleasurable.

He bent his head to my nipple and licked it. I let out a
shocked gasp but managed to stay still. He swirled his tongue around its
circumference, slowly, luxuriously, leaving fairy-dust sparkles of joy in his
wake. My entire being seemed to melt and expand. Every thought flew away except
those concerning him and the miraculous things he was doing to such a private
part of my anatomy. My entire world seemed to narrow to those twin pinpoints of
sensation as he tugged and teased.

“My lord, my lord, it feels… Oh my, it feels…”

“Shh,” he said, raising his head briefly from his work. His
lips looked moist and red, matching the nipples that still begged for his
touch.

“No! Don’t stop.”

He chuckled. “You are a treasure, my dear. You do know I’ll
never let you go after this? And this is just the merest beginning. Open your
legs.”

Yes! Yes, he was going to pleasure me again, right here in
the woods of Sweetbriar. It was wrong and wickedly indiscreet and I ought to
deny him, but some part of me must have recognized my master, because no matter
how my mind might try to protest, it thrilled me to obey him.

He latched his mouth to my bosom again, flipped my skirt up
and put his warm hand on the upper part of my thigh. It burned through my
drawers. I moved restlessly, seeking the hand that brought me to raw, craving
life.

He drew deeply on my breast, wresting a broken cry from me.

“Please, please,” I begged, for what, I knew not. I writhed
against his mouth, which continued to torment me wickedly.

And slowly, his hand inched closer to the beating heart of
my desire. I held my breath. The whole world seemed to slow to a crawl,
magnifying everything a thousandfold. A thrush rustled the underbrush nearby.
Water rushed over moss-covered rocks. Sun beat down on my face and my exposed
bosom. And when his exploring hand found the slit in my drawers, sneaked inside
and touched that one particular spot, the tiny nubbin of flesh that made me
pant in the night, I sucked in my breath and the world sped up to a frantic
rush.

Everything spun around me in a wild whirl. He rubbed
delicately at first, toying with me like a cat with its prey, long, slow,
maddening strokes. When it was just me, I thrust my hand down my drawers and
did my business. I had no time for slow, nor any inclination that it might be
more pleasurable. And I wasn’t sure it was. I hated him for his slowness. I
wrenched my hands from his grasp and beat on his shoulder.