My Three Masters (7 page)

He laughed and pinched my flesh between his finger. Oh it
hurt, and yet it didn’t. Pleasure soared like the wild flight of an eagle.

“Who’s the master here?” he asked, his mouth hot against my
neck, then took my nipple between his teeth. Oh the marvelous, bittersweet
sensation, like a shriek of the skin.

“You,” I gasped. “You.”

“Then put your hands back. Now,” he ordered as I hesitated.
As if by their own will, my hands flew above my head, wrists crossed.

He licked the nipple that he’d just bitten, long, soothing
strokes like a mother cat with her kitten. I groaned long and hard and shifted
impatiently against his hand. I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but my control went
only so far. He said nothing, only cupped my mound in his hand and rubbed,
hard, harder, slipping a finger inside me,
inside
my most private area,
where heat and wetness awaited him. My passage clung to his probing hand. I
tightened my muscles around it, willing it to be what I needed. It wasn’t—I
wanted something bigger, something harder, something that would obliterate my
every thought.

I knew where it was. My salvation lay between his legs, a
thick bulge covered in nankeen riding breeches. As if he knew what I wanted, he
ground his hidden member against my mound. I pushed back, blind with desire.
The fabric of his breeches rubbed against my clitoris, oh God, my tender,
sensitized, voracious clitoris. I wanted more, more, I wanted something inside
me, I wanted something to break me open and shatter me. I whimpered pitifully
and thrashed my head from side to side.

He scraped his teeth against my nipple, moved his taunting
hips just so, and a conflagration burst within me. Wild waves of feeling
cascaded over me, sparkling as a waterfall in the sun. I arched into the air,
matching the pressure of his thickened member. He pumped against me, working me
until my last shred of dignity was gone amid a flurry of shouts and pleadings
and thrusts of my body.

I cared not. All that mattered to me was the ecstasy ripping
me apart, body and soul. Miranda Brown would never have allowed anything like
this to happen. Miranda Brown was no more.

In her place lay simple Miranda, the wanton, begging servant
to my master, the Marquis de Beaumont. A woman who craved pleasure, who felt no
more shame, held no more secrets. Who lived in harmony with her true self.

He brought me down slowly from that mad peak. His hands
magically changed from arousing to soothing. He gentled me as if I were a horse
in a lather; the lather part was certainly true. Perspiration studded my skin,
and I couldn’t seem to slow my great, embarrassing pants.

The Marquis’ cock pulsated with feverish need, but the look
on Miranda’s face made the pain fade. As much as he longed to satisfy himself
within her body, she didn’t trust him yet. As he watched the clouds gather on
her damp, Madonna-like face, he knew he’d done the right thing in denying
himself. There would be time. She would come to him when she was ready.

She sat up, arranged her lush bosom back within her bodice
and fixed her large, river-brown eyes on him. “What am I to you, my lord?”

She’d asked the most difficult question of all, one he
didn’t understand himself.

“You’re my…protégée. I swore to protect you. I failed when I
frightened you with that riding crop. It was careless and I apologize.”

She shook her head impatiently. “Do you think I’m a
simpleton? You swore to your wife, whom you despised. Why should you keep such
a promise?”

“I think you’re anything but a simpleton. I think you’re
extraordinary.”

A tear slid down her face, but the Marquis couldn’t tell if
it was due to the aftermath of her passion or to his words.

“As for my promise, it has nothing to do with my late wife.
I always keep my promises. Ask anyone, they’ll tell you. Even my worst enemies
know I’m a man of my word. And I have more than a few of those running around.”

He hoped his dry tone would relax her. It did the opposite.
She scowled at him. “What do you want from me, my lord? Do you wish to claim my
virginity, as my master? Do you wish to prove how easily you can sway my body
to your will?”

All the above, in time. But for now…

“I want only one thing at this moment, and it has nothing to
do with my raging cockstand. I want to know what happened to you.”

She drew in a harsh breath. Her gaze sharpened, intensified,
as if she were truly looking at him for the first time. To be the focus of
those clear eyes was intoxicating.

“And that’s not all. Who are you? What’s your real name?
Where were you born? How did you become what you are today? Who scarred you?
Was it intentional? Where are they so I can kill them with my bare hands?”

Her hand flew to her cheek. “Why?”

“Why to which question?”

“Why do you care about any of that? I’m only a nursemaid.
I’m nothing.”

“Not to me,” he said flatly.

A small frown pleated the fine skin of her forehead. Her
wide eyes scanned his face. He held still under her scrutiny, afraid to make a
move. Soft woodland sounds rose around them. A chickadee chirped somewhere in
the treetops. A gust of wind rustled the birch leaves like a lullaby. The two
of them stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

Then she spoke, her lips trembling as they parted. “My
guardian took the whip to me. You see, I wanted to marry, and he had something
different in mind. He wished to render me unmarriageable.”

A strange prickling wave of heat passed through the Marquis’
body and left him fighting for breath. He sat up, trying to contain the
feeling. It didn’t work. He wanted to rip the trees up with his bare hands. He
wanted to snarl like the beast she’d called him. He wanted to hunt and kill and
throw the man’s carcass to the dogs. “Who is he?” His voice came out in a
choked, harsh voice he didn’t recognize.

She flinched. “I won’t tell you. I won’t go back to him.
He’s still my guardian. If he finds me…”

“He should worry, not you.”

But he could tell she was already withdrawing from him. She
knelt on the ground, gazing at him with desperate intensity in her tea-brown
eyes. “I don’t want trouble. I just want to be left in peace. No more
questions, I beg you.”

The Marquis struggled with himself. Shaking the truth out of
her, as he half wished to do, wouldn’t inspire her to trust him.

“All right,” he said finally. “I will do as you wish. No
more questions. No more plans to find the bastard and kill him. But in return,
may I ask you one favor?”

She pursed her lips. The gesture made him notice the elegant
shape of her mouth. It was a work of art, that mouth, the work of an inspired
sculptor with a taste for the ornate. In the aftermath of passion, its swelling
curves were utterly erotic. Why had he never paid attention before?

“Very well,” she said, bringing him back to attention. “One
favor.”

“Don’t leave here without telling me. If I’m to protect you,
I must have some idea of where you are.”

“I won’t,” she said, smiling. “I like it here.”

“Good. And one more thing.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you always so demanding?”

Lightning shot to his groin. Good Lord. Was she flirting
with him? He cleared his throat. “Interesting question.”

Color crept up her face. He remembered what Alicia had said,
that she wanted to be mastered. Most fascinating.

“When it comes to certain things, I’m quite demanding.”

The color increased to primrose red. Most fascinating,
indeed.

“But I respect your privacy. So the second request I have is
simply this. Know that if you do choose to reveal more, no matter what it might
be, I am eager to hear it.” He jumped to his feet and brushed twigs and leaves
off his breeches, then offered his hand to help her up. He didn’t give her a
choice, simply reached for her and swung her to her feet—demanding her
acquiescence.

Surely that was a light of arousal that flickered in her
eyes? He quickly put himself at her side so she wouldn’t notice the hardening
in his breeches. God, how he wanted her.

When I was little, before all the bad things started
happening, before my parents died and the Vicious Viscount took over my life, I
loved motion above all things. As a babe I could always be calmed by the
rocking of a cradle. As a girl I would spend every spare moment in the swing
that hung from an apple tree in the orchard. I’d swing as high as I could,
until my outstretched toes tangled in the upper branches. I thought if I swung
high enough, I’d certainly be able to fly. When I learned to ride, horses
became my great escape. Galloping across an open field, leaping over gates—what
could be closer to paradise?

When the Marquis pulled me to my feet with that one
masterful move, that lovely, free sensation of weightlessness returned to me.
Like a blow to the stomach, it took my breath away. This time, instead of
sailing toward pink apple blossoms, I flew into the embrace of the man who’d
come to dominate my every thought. He caught me lightly, set me on my feet, and
we turned toward the house.

“My lord,” I said suddenly, when we were halfway to the
house. “Did you really deflower Lady Alicia?”

Immediately I blushed so hard I must have looked as scarlet
as an elderberry.

The sound of the Marquis’ laughter didn’t help.

“Is the Countess sharing our secrets?”

“Just that one,” I muttered. “Please forgive my rudeness.”

“Oh no. I like it. I won’t forgive because there’s nothing
to forgive, and I won’t forget because it’s too delicious. Yes, I relieved the
Countess of her virginity.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because she’s precious to me, as is her sensual
nature. I was convinced—we all were—that the Earl was not the right man for
that task. I wished to introduce her to the pleasures of being a woman.”

“I see,” I squeaked. “And do you still… That is, do you…”
But I couldn’t finish. It was too shocking, not something I could say out loud.

“Do I still enjoy introducing beautiful young women to the
pleasures of sensuality? Yes.”

I felt his hot gaze on my good cheek. From that side I
wasn’t so very hideous. The Marquis must be referring to me, implying that he
and I could…

I floated the rest of the way to the house.

I don’t recall if more words were said before I reached my
tiny room. I was too busy reliving everything that had passed between us. Never
before had I felt that I had a champion. Tom, the Squire’s son, had shied away
in horror when I’d stumbled to their house. The housekeeper had sent me
directly to the kitchen, where the cook had smeared something dreadful on my
face. In my delirium, I felt Tom’s disgust as though it were another slash of a
whip. Feverish, distressed, I ran again. To this day I don’t remember
everything that occurred in the following days. But I know that I had no one to
fight for me.

All through the evening, as I played patty-cake with little
Rose, I felt the heat of his body from when I’d brushed up against it. The grip
of his strong hand felt branded on my arm. I pictured the look on his face when
I’d told him about my guardian. And I felt my face soften into a silly smile.

Little Rose noticed. She gurgled and smiled back at me,
bouncing in my arms, pushing her little legs against my waist.

Lady Alicia noticed too. “I’m happy to see you’ve recovered
from this afternoon’s outing,” she said as she entered the room.

“Yes, milady.” How much did she know?

“The Marquis said you’d had a fright, but that it would take
much more than a wayward horse to throw you off-stride.”

So he’d kept my secrets. Of course. I believed I was
beginning to understand the Marquis. “That’s kind of him.”

“Don’t tell the London gossips. If his tenderhearted nature
became common knowledge, he’d be laughed out of his clubs.” She winked and took
the baby from my arms. Settling in the rocking chair, she dandled the child on
her knees. “I’ll put her to bed. Such a sweet time with my Rosy-Posy.”

I left the two of them laughing together, two peas in a pod
with their merry smiles.

* * * * *

Try as I might, I couldn’t sleep that night. Some kind of
fire raced through my veins. Outside, the murmur of crickets seemed to beckon
me to some promised land. I longed to run in the wet grass, dance under the
scattered moonlight, drape myself in rose petals. Was the night unusually hot,
or was I the only one suffering from this restlessness?

I buried my head under a pillow, only to find myself gazing
into the Marquis’ glittering eyes.
I won’t touch you unless you wish me to…
I’m demanding when it comes to certain things… Who are they so I can find them
and kill them with my bare hands…

I rolled to the side and held my hand up in the moonlight.
Right there, that’s where he’d touched it. I could swear the little hairs still
stood on end. I could still feel his touch upon my body, the way he’d known exactly
how to fondle my secret folds, the way he’d suckled on the tips of my breasts,
the way he’d moved over me, so determined, so strong, so relentless. I couldn’t
forget the feeling of sweet surrender that stole over me when he pushed my
hands above my head.

How was it that something that ought to seem so
frightening—and would if done by another person—was so delightfully stimulating
when performed by the Marquis? Did he possess some magic gift? Or did I—I
shuddered at the thought—have special feelings for him?

Certainly I did. I’d been dreaming of him for months. I
lusted after him. I desired him. But it went beyond that. The new world he’d
opened for me—the world within myself—beckoned, and I couldn’t resist.

I lay in my bed, wondering where he was at this very moment.
I knew how aroused he’d been. I’d felt the evidence against my thigh, and he’d
made no effort to hide it from me. Perhaps he’d decided to slake his thirst
with the Countess and the Duke? Perhaps even now he was driving that manly rod
into a body other than mine?
No!
Everything in me protested. I wanted
him. I wanted his attention, his touch, his desire. It belonged to no one but
me.

He wanted to protect me, as a good master should protect a
servant, but I was no servant by birth. I was a lady—or would have been. I’d
had maids and household staff at my disposal. And I’d been a daring,
adventurous sort of lady, the kind who wouldn’t hesitate to challenge the rules
and take chances. Maybe I’d buried that part of me too deeply. Maybe the Honorable
Miranda Hampton needed to come back to life.

I rose to my feet and pulled a wrapper around my shoulders.
I tiptoed into the dark nursery and checked one more time on Rose. She was
deeply asleep, her breath fluttering her lacy nightclothes. She wouldn’t wake
for hours, most likely not until midmorning. I tucked her in more securely,
then slipped out of the room.

I raced silently down the stairs. Where to find the Marquis?
I knew where his chambers were, but what were the chances he’d be there? If he
was in the Countess’ chamber, I’d simply return to my own quarters. I wasn’t
quite daring enough to interrupt my employers’ bed play.

I tapped on the Marquis’ door but got no answer. I should
just return—that’s what I’d intended—but instead I turned the knob and slipped
inside the darkened room. The scent of cloves and leather greeted me—the same
fragrance I’d smelled as he brought me to that peak of joy. I inhaled deeply,
drinking in the air the Marquis had recently inhabited. I glanced at the
bed—still perfectly made, as if no one had yet slept in it.

So the Marquis was elsewhere. The thought bothered me more
severely than I’d expected. I had no claim on him, of course, but how could he
go so quickly from one encounter to another? It didn’t seem proper.

I chuckled to myself in the dark. “Proper” had gone missing
some time ago. Since I was being so improper, I decided to take advantage of
the moment. I drifted to the vanity where his cravats sat, neatly laundered and
folded. A couple of rings lay carelessly strewn about, but not nearly as many
as I would have expected for a man of the Marquis’ elegance. The Marquis was
always meticulously turned out, but perhaps not as vain as one might think. I
bent over the cravats, fingering them as if I could touch the Marquis that way.

And then suddenly, my arm was pulled behind my back and a
hard body was pressing me against the vanity.