Regency Rogues Omnibus (85 page)

Radford tapped his fingers. “Bribing one of the members is too risky. We could never be assured they would keep their mouth shut. Then using Yojo as bait to attract Hellion’s attention would be too obvious. Hellion would be on guard then and we would never get close enough to learn the intimate details we need. The cult’s move from Paris to outside London has put them easily closer to us, however, the upheaval of their order is making it more difficult and they must be more wary.”

“Yes, I wonder that they will even accept new members,” Nia said, as she walked to his side, then she slid onto his lap. Radford adjusted his posture with pleasure to accommodate his soon-to-be wife comfortably, yet still be able to reach forward and tap his fingers. Nia continued, “From what Saxon and Joelle said, Incubus seemed to be The Orders new member curator, plus its money man.”

“Money?” Radford asked, more pondering than question, money was one of the most powerful sins.

“Of course you remember what Saxon said about Incubus. How, Incubus was worried over money and how Hellion was incensed that Incubus should bother him with such mundane human issues.”

“Yes, one wonders what Hellion’s money situation is now, without Incubus in charge of it?”

“Insane as he is or not, we both know Hellion’s lofty madness requires wealth to retain his position, Radford love.”

Radford stroked Nia’s soft hair, while continuing to drum his fingers on the table with his other hand. “So, they need a replacement for Incubus and that might be one within their ranks. Dame Baset would be my first choice. Then they will be very interested in gathering money to afford the perverted style Hellion is accustomed to.”

“Members,” Nia added to his list.

“Yes, it only makes sense whether it is the careful thing to do or not, they must still seek members.”

“The richer the better,” Nia added.

“Aye, and megalomaniac that Hellion is, it is what he thrives on, peons to worship his warped ideals. So, the odds are accepting new members might not be an obstacle. One would assume, with the organizer Incubus gone, the network to check aspiring cult members’ backgrounds and the blackmail side of the cult would be in disarray.

“That is good for our side and will help Brynmore and Kit’s entrance,” Nia said as she rubbed his shoulders.

Radford had to admit talking out different scenarios and methods with his wife was an unexpected pleasure. He normally did such calculations internally. But his lovely wife was quick-witted and just voicing ideas and juggling them to and fro was proving productive, besides having the lush pleasure of her womanly curves cuddled on his lap.

“What else?” Radford asked. “What else will they be looking for here? How will they find new members?”

“I would think they would be looking for women and men to perform sexual antics with,” Nia said.

“Hmm,” Radford responded. “You mean freely or using money as with prostitutes?”

Nia patted his chest. “Well, there is an entire underground society of vast and varying sexual acumen in London. No one talks about it, especially decent nobles. But they partake, masked sometimes and in private.”

“Your knowledge intrigues me, cherie. Not that I would have a clue about such things,” Radford quipped with a smile and a nibbling kiss on Nia’s cheek.

Nia giggled and slapped his chest playfully. “I do not believe that at all, you rogue. Not once?” she challenged.

Radford leaned back in his chair, rocking Nia’s plush bottom on his lap and over his attentively growing cock. “Ah. Hmm. There was one time when I was undercover, mind you, that I happened upon a situation in an exclusive bordello where a rather curvaceous nude woman was bound, wrists above her head, while an older gent lashed her pretty bottom with a fan whip.”

“Really?” Nia’s light green eyes widened with the gold specks shining brightly with interest.

Radford chuckled. “Quite a lady of the night you were, darling.”

“Oh you!” Nia quipped. “I told you that I had barely started my career when you whisked me away and I certainly never heard of activities like that!”

“I know this sparkle in your eyes, my feisty Lady Fire, it says you are intrigued as well as aroused.”

Nia rolled her buttocks seductively over his stiffening cock as she lowered her heated breath to his ear. “I’m excited at the thought of having my wrists bound as you have your way with me.”

“Hmm,” he responded with male purrs of agreement. “And your sexy nude ass whipped too?” he asked.

“Radford,” she cooed, nuzzling his ear. “Maybe we could negotiate, try it lightly to start. I remember... Oh!” Nia pushed away from him, leaning back to look at him with some sudden realization on her features. “I remember a place Madame Lilly used to talk about. It was a dungeon club called the Satyr’s Whip!” Her voice ended on excitement.

“Satyr?” he repeated sharply.

“Yes. Yes!” she nodded. “I think if Hellion or his minions go anywhere surely it will be there. It has all the elements, the name, the sex fetishes. I’m sure... maybe, Madame Lily could help us or has heard about the cult or...”

Radford interrupted. “We need to be careful about saying anything this Madame Lily could be involved already. To approach her we would want to do so carefully.”

“Of course, I’m certain you can come up with a devious way,” Nia’s said, with a sly smile aimed at him.

“Yes. This is good, we need eyes and ears in as many bordellos and hidden fetish clubs as we can manage.”

“As usual,” Drummond’s voice suddenly interjected into Nia and Radford’s theorizing. “Your strategies of action are excellent.”

Both turned to look at Drummond as he entered the small ballroom and walked toward them. Radford said, “It came about postulating on how we were to gain Brynmore and Kit’s entrance into The Order.”

Drummond stopped on the opposite side of the table with one hand in his side pocket. “Ah yes, it has given me pause, a difficult task. I just might have something tucked up my sleeve along the lines of your thinking.”

Radford cocked his raven-winged eyebrow at Drummond. Drummond merely smirked and continued on another venue without quite revealing his intentions. Radford chuckled, shaking his head lightly, as Drummond said, “And, Nia, I believe visiting these underground clubs across London, looking for signs of the cult’s movements could be some couples events, to include the women. Don’t you?”

“Definitely,” she replied.

Chapter Eight

Harrison moved like a whisper of air in the dark of night. The slender figure beside him moved in graceful tandem motions with each of his stealthy movements. They were dressed in tight-fitting black from head to toe, including masks. Harrison was pleased with his wife Chloe’s ability to move in slowly calculated secret beside him. He was not truly surprised.

He knew her body. He knew its grace, agility, and patience. Yet more than that, he knew her mind. From the mind came the control to move and not be seen. It was equally amazing because he knew Chloe was excited to be with him on this surveillance mission. That she could contain the adrenaline rush. The thrill of it pumping through her was impressive.

She would have made a skilled assassin.

He nearly chuckled at the absurd, but quite accurate thought. But now, her truest skill was lying nude beneath him, accepting their union for all that implied between them. An indulgent rise made the first thought in his cock and he shut it down immediately, even as he enjoyed the view of Chloe’s compact and supple ass wrapped in the tight britches she wore. That he knew her nipple tips were lassoed and tied with thin leather strips, beneath her form-fitting black shirt, was a sadistic pleasure he’d never invented before tonight. He told her that it would keep her alert, when in reality it was for his own dark pleasure. Later, he intended to use the leads as he fucked her. He was beginning to wonder if he would make it off Lord Rushborn’s estate before he had his cock buried into Chloe’s hot cunt.

However, he had the control. He enjoyed teasing it, regardless. The harder it was for him to control the better he relished it. Nonetheless, he turned his mind away from the distinct pleasure of having his wife by his side on this nocturnal visit to Rushborn’s country estate mansion. It was close to midnight and they stood on the second balcony of the estate’s ornate chapel. This was not a separate building on the estate but was crafted into the mansion. The balcony ran in a semicircular pattern around the main chapel below. Fortunately, the entire balcony and balcony decks that protruded outward in half circles around the chapel were all heavily curtained, masking any activities going on below, on the floor of the chapel.

It was just what Harrison expected of a nonreligious order and it served his purpose well. He stopped by the tasseled edge of one heavy black velvet curtain at the end of the circular balcony. From there he could easily escape to either the right or the left. Chloe glided to a stop beside him. Their mission tonight was to obtain an inside look at Rushborn’s mansion and The Orders newest base of operations.

Drummond wanted the layout, however whatever else came up was left to Harrison’s interpretations. He already had a few ideas. Both he and Chloe found it curious that Hellion was never observed leaving the estate. Perhaps they would come across something that would shine some light on that mystery. Nevertheless, he was only there to observe what he could safely without being caught, and then report back to Drummond. He felt confident that he could do that without being caught and he would only be there for a short time. That is why he brought Chloe along.

“There appears to be some activity below,” Harrison rasped.

“Is it safe to speak?” Chloe asked in a breathy whisper beside him.

Harrison nodded as he looked down between the curtain edges he’d pulled slightly open, while Chloe leaned closer to look also. “It seems they have converted the chapel to their own heroical shrine.”

“Look at those statues of demons set around the chamber. The sculptures clearly show the demons raping women in all manners. The demons are half-man and half-animal?” Chloe questioned.

“Satyrs,” Harrison clarified. “Half-man, half-goat, but they depict these to be more half-stallion. A liberty taken for Hellion’s pleasure no doubt.”

The former Christian chapel below was awash in pagan immorality and Harrison wondered fleetingly at God’s punishments over such desecrations. He was not a religious man, his past maniacally laughed at that. However recently, he’d warmed a bit toward Chloe’s Buddhist spirit. He also was not puritanical or even close. Much of what the cult might be involved in sexually, he more than likely would not find completely distasteful. He was not a hypocrite. He was simply a wicked man. Aside from that, murder and violent rape were things he chose to adamantly defend against, yet the reality of The Order’s biggest mistake with him was loyalty based. They’d harmed Saxon, one of the few men he called a friend, and they were intent to murder him, before he escaped.

“Is it a ceremony?” Chloe asked, whispering as she peered below, near his shoulder.

“Too few,” Harrison murmured. “A meeting perhaps.”

“I see Dame Baset, only because her skirts with all their fullness are peeking out beneath the bottom hem of her robe. All hooded like that, it is hard to tell who is who or who is male from female.”

“You have caught a clue with the skirts,” Harrison said, with his eyes narrowing.

“Could be any woman?”

“Assume it’s she. It is a small group gathered and Hellion is present and I think Rushborn also.”

“How can you tell Hellion’s there?”

“He is over six-foot. Look at the tall one. If you watch closely, you will catch a glimpse of his hands beneath his robe sleeves.”

“Startling white?”

“Yes, you have to be alert to catch it, it happens quickly, however, there is no mistaking him, and moreover Rushborn is seventy and stooped.

“Oh, I see him now. You knew to look at the skirts before I said that.”

“Perhaps, but you reminded me and I looked closer. At least we can confirm that Hellion is here.”

“Yes, unless someone has powdered or painted their hands. Which, would be a very strange thing to do.”

“Rosebud, you have a devious mind,” Harrison said, raising his gloved hand to Chloe’s nape, which he caressed lightly.

“Thank you, Raven,” she whispered. “It might not be a strange thing for a cult member to do. To emulate their leader.”

“Demigod, more like what Saxon described.”

Chloe nodded and he could feel her shiver lightly, as he said, “Your point is taken. No conclusions, unless there is irrefutable proof.”

“It seems unusual our men hired to watch this mansion never see Dame Baset or Hellion leaving, only Baco and Cernno,” Chloe said, turning into his hand covering her nape. “I know she goes out,” she added.

“Women’s intuition?” Harrison asked.

“No, women’s knowledge. Dame Baset is too fashionable to stay away from shopping and society long.”

“Irrefutable then, I say. Look closely, Chloe, something is happening.”

Chloe felt the warmth of Raven’s gloved hand cupping her nape as she leaned into his solid body. Really, Raven caressed the only part on her not covered in black. Chloe looked for what Raven spoke about, then she saw it. Two of the robed figures had moved closer to one of the lewd statues on the right side of the altar area. The statue was carved in some type of black polished stone and was as tall as two men. It depicted a satyr with a monstrous jutting phallus between its thighs. It was the only Satyr’s statue in the chamber that did not have statues of nude black stone women intertwined with it in varying lewd sexually violent poses. Like the next one in the circle of them, with its phallus entered into a woman’s ass, her hands tied to a post. The large black-onyx Satyr held her hips in place with clawed hands and its head thrown backward, mouth open, screaming lust or rage.