Saffina's Season (7 page)

“Do I have to answer, Jacquard? You think me so very wicked, then?” I ran my hand down his face, hoping my light touch might soften his heart. But he held firm.

“You’re hiding something. I’ve no wish to make trouble between us, my love, but I have to know.”

I swallowed, infuriated deep down but desperate not to show it. “Then I’ll tell you, since I must. I’m trying to arrange a surprise for your birthday. And that’s all I’m saying, Leather Room or no.” I kissed him lightly, running my tongue along his lower lip. “And you’ve no right to ask any more, sir. I may have to go out several times to complete the arrangement.”

I expected him to throw back his head and laugh, or at least arch a cynical eyebrow at this intriguing news and pump me for more. To my dismay he did neither. His frown deepened as a strange look crossed his face.

“My
birthday
? Why?”

I laughed, not from mirth but to cover my confusion. “Surely you don’t have to ask, my lord? Everybody has a birthday. And most people have gifts from loved ones, so you’ll have a gift from me. And now no more on the matter. You came here for something. And it’s my solemn duty to provide it.”

I laid my cheek against his, feeling between us to seize hold of his cock, lying still while we talked but twitching anew as I fondled it. And before he could protest, I leaned up over his lap and pushed down onto it, winding my arms around his neck as I plunged.

I felt his chest stiffen against me, his muscles rippling in reflex as I rose again and sank back down, throwing my head back with a sigh as his hot manhood filled my belly.

Something flickered in his eyes, then to my joy he clasped me around the waist and jerked me bodily onto my back, taking possession with his cock still inside me. At the same moment he plundered my mouth with his hungry tongue.

As he pulled away, his voice was hoarse. “You torment me past bearing. That was no kind of answer, ma’am.”

His breath rasped on my neck as he buried his head briefly on my shoulder and steadied himself over me, his arms rigid and his hips pounding into me full force.

Breathless, I stared up at him in amazement at the force of his thrusts, my head rammed back onto the tight, satin cushions, my body crushed under his weight.

“It’s all the answer you’ll get, sir,” I panted, startled at his vigor but managing a playful smile. “I demand the right to arrange your gift in peace.”

To my dismay he withdrew, irritation glittering in his narrowed eyes.

“In that case”—he wrenched my lace lower to expose my breasts—“I demand the right to full use of
these
.” Towering over me, he straddled my rib cage and thrust his glossy, juice-slick cock between my breasts.

“Hold them firm for me.” His look was so intense that his command made me laugh. With a giggle I did it, plumping them up into tight, bulging balloons to squeeze his cock to fruition. But the cynical twist at one corner of his sculpted lips warned me he had another plan.

Before I could shift to finish him, he eased forward and pushed it full into my open, hungry mouth.

“Part payment, my love. Every time you refuse to answer me, I’ll keep a tally. If your pretty mouth won’t satisfy me in one way, it will have to satisfy in another.”

I stared in astonishment as the justice of this flared in my groin, fanning my flames into white-hot arousal.

We were to make a
contest
out of this? How like him. With my mouth filled to bursting, my juices down below pooling at his wicked imposition, I sucked and lunged with a will, finding the angle easier now that he thrust from above. In no time his power and his weight brought him completion. But to my dismay he did not return the compliment. And when I teased him about it afterward, he grew quiet, then soon left.

What have I done?

* * * *

The opera was all I’d hoped—sparkling, stylish and crammed with the
ton
. The crush of carriages made it look like a ball—the ladies afire with jewels, their bosoms aglow, their hair dressed in the latest fashion. Many sported ostrich plumes to honor the Prince Regent, who was to attend with his party.

Jacquard had secured a large private box, which we shared with a duke, his mistress, his wife and half-a-dozen nobles. We had a full view of both the portly prince and the stage.

To my surprise we caused quite a stir. I knew Jacquard had a reputation and his stunning looks and vast wealth always drew envious stares, but tonight the crowd seemed all agog at me.

As we took our seats I leaned close to whisper, “Do they always stare like this at newcomers, sir?”

I had no fears about my appearance. With my grandmother’s diamonds on ravishing display and wearing my finest and newest gown, I felt the equal of anyone here. But I’d rarely faced such open stares.

Jacquard’s brief grin teased me, the fire in his look sending a shaft of heat through me at the same time. “Our marriage is still the talk of the town. They’re curious to see if my new countess lives up to their idea of her.”

I arched an eyebrow. “And what idea would that be, sir?”

He lowered his eyelids with a cynical look. “That you’re beautiful beyond belief and fresh as a daisy. Now hush. The curtain rises. Keep your eyes on the stage.”

Pleased, but sure he was funning, I glared at him. He leaned back into the shadows, his expression unreadable.

Quizzing glasses flashed as heads turned toward me. Then I spotted Lady Hornsea over in the regent’s party. Insolently, I fluttered my fingers at her. She tried to look haughty, so I did it again.

Soon my antics drew the prince’s attention. He fixed me with his glass and stared our way for most of the last act.

I smiled serenely and ignored them both.

On the way out, there was quite a crush. Jacquard kept hold of my arm. As we waited for our carriage, he was distracted by some remark from the duke. I stood back to let people pass and we became separated.

All at once something crunched under my slipper. I picked it up and turned it over in my hands. It was a gaudy scarlet fan, lacquered in the newest Chinese style and heavily daubed with gold. It had a gold tassel shaped like feathers.

I flicked it open and fluttered it a few times.

As I snapped it shut and scanned the crowd for its likely owner, a stout gentleman stepped in front of me and bowed low.

“Your Ladyship? Delighted to find you here. A few moments of your time? This way, quickly. Before anyone sees.”

Chapter Seven

Startled, I followed the mysterious stranger away from the glittering crowd into the shadow of a doorway. He looked middle-aged and well heeled. This was no struggling young artist and certainly no footpad.

“Your Ladyship? A word, I beseech you. Just while the carriages line up.” He bowed, removing his hat with a flourish. His coat flashed with fine gold stitching. His wig, silk stockings and buckled shoes seemed old-fashioned but clean.

“What can you want with me, sir?” I smiled vaguely. We were in a reputable district, a far cry from the back alleys of Chelsea. Even a well-dressed footpad could hardly molest me in a crowd this size.

The stranger shielded his mouth with his hand. “Concerning the—ah—portrait, Your Ladyship?”

“
La
, sir, you gave me such a fright. Yes, indeed. How soon can we arrange things? I’m keen to begin.”

“Of course, of course. As soon as you wish.” He was sweating now. “Suppose you call tomorrow morning for our first sitting?”

“Perfect.” I felt a wave of relief. Jacquard would be at his tailor’s. I had calls to make but could easily cry off. “Tomorrow then. And the address?”

He gave me an oily smile. “Surely my studio is well known, milady, even to Your Ladyship. Why, all London knows of it. Ladies and gentlemen of the
ton
call by at all hours. I keep open house.”

“Not when I’m there, sir,” I said firmly. “It’s all agreed. My sittings will be strictly in secret. No one else must know of this or the commission is void. I made that very clear.”

His eyes widened. He coughed politely behind his hand. “Oh—ah—certainly, Your Ladyship. Whatever you say. It shall all be arranged to your exact wishes.” He coughed again. “Perhaps if you take care to come incognito? To conceal your visits?”

“Very well. And I want no contact with the painter, obviously. I might feel awkward later if we were to meet socially. It was suggested he paint from behind a screen.” I spoke quickly, keen to get rid of him.

He looked dazed. “I—that is
he
—could do so, I suppose. It’s a little unusual.”

I glanced over my shoulder, impatient to be gone. The crowd was thinning now. Any moment Jacquard might spot me, then all would be lost.

“We can go into detail tomorrow. By the way, have you any idea who
this
belongs to?” I dangled the fan in front of the man’s face.

He looked startled for a moment, then broke into polite chuckles.

“
This
, Your Ladyship? I—
oh
. Oh, I see. Your Ladyship’s little joke? Oh yes. Yes, indeed. I know very well whose it is.” He chortled loudly for a moment. “Capital, capital.”

Once more he bowed over my hand. I rolled my eyes. Just my luck for Martin’s friend to be an eccentric.

Through a gap in the crowd, I glimpsed the Endale crest as our carriage drew up. Alarmed, I snatched my hand away.

“No matter. We’ll meet tomorrow. The address, sir, if you please? And quickly. I must go.”

He murmured a number at the fashionable end of Bond Street. As he bowed again, I turned away, took three steps into the crowd and came up full tilt against a finely cut tailcoat, the necktie above it snowy and plain and folded to perfection.

“There you are.” Jacquard was gazing down at me, his expression unreadable. He steadied me with a firm grip on my arm. “I was about to start a search.” He glanced down at the fan with a cynical glint as he handed me into the carriage. “What’s that? Some new bauble? A present from an admirer?”

“And if it were, would I be likely to confess to it?” I flicked it open and eyed him over it, fluttered my lashes. At his angry glance, I hastily snapped it shut. “I picked it up in the street. I was looking for its owner.”

He leaned back in the corner, amused. “Leave it on the railings. Its owner can hardly fail to spot it. It’s showy enough.”

He handed it through the window to the startled footman, who gave it a pinched look, took it solemnly in finger and thumb and hung it on the nearest railing. As the carriage moved away, Jacquard slammed the door shut and pulled down the blinds. And in the cushioned privacy of his seat, we traveled back to Mayfair blissfully entwined.

* * * *

When my maids had removed my jewels, brushed out my hair and prepared me for bed, I listened outside the door in my room that led to Jacquard’s apartments to check his valet had gone.

Hearing no voices, I knocked lightly and stepped inside. I was surprised to see the room lit only by a single candle and low, flickering firelight.

Jacquard sat sprawled in an easy chair, his head leaning on his hand, a brandy glass in the other.

For full seconds I drank in his stunning profile, gilded in the light from the flames, his hair tousled where he’d run his hand through it. His dark breeches made a sharp contrast to his snowy linen, the golden skin of his chest. The darker sprinkle of hair below his neck, a sharper one still.

“You look moody tonight.” I closed the door softly and clambered onto his lap, letting my lace robe fall back a little to expose my cleavage.

A tremor ran through me as he skimmed my breasts with his fingers and folded his arms loosely around my waist.

“Tell me, Saffina. Why did you marry me?”

I sat up straight in blank astonishment. “Good grief, sir, why do you think? What kind of question is that?”

I saw him clench his jaw as he stared once more into the fire.

“You had so little experience of the world,” he murmured. “I had no right to snap you up so soon. I knew that sooner or later I should pay a price.”

Now I was seriously alarmed. “Jacquard? How much have you had to drink? You’re talking nonsense.”

“Who was that man talking to you?” Slowly, deliberately, he pushed my gown back over my shoulders, running his hand lightly over my breasts, down my side and deep between my thighs.

I shuddered under his touch, having been denied it all evening, now all alive to it, and seriously alarmed at his mood. “Whatever’s the matter, sir? Tell me.”

I felt his breath on my hair as he pulled me close.

“Watching hundreds of men feast their eyes on you, for one. Sitting so close to your charms, forbidden to touch, for another.”

All at once he found my mouth, his kiss hard and fierce. At the same time he reached between my legs and spread his fingers to flex open my thighs. I moaned under his hungry tongue as he cupped my sex with his palm and pressed his fingers deep inside, searching and separating the folds he found there, sending shivers all through me.

“If it’s any comfort, I felt the same,” I whispered hoarsely, as he freed my lips. “You cut the finest figure of all the gentlemen there.”

All evening we had shared looks and whispered politely under the rapt stares of hundreds of people. Now the burning sensations deep in my belly every time his eyes met mine flared into full heat as our mouths met and our tongues mingled.

With an impatient jerk at his linen, I freed enough of the garment to slide my hand down into his crotch, encircling him boldly, fondling all I found there, squeezing gently. As he lay back, his eyes gleaming, I worked my fingers deeper and took hold of his rising cock, stroking it hard to tease it to full power. I felt him grin against my mouth as he freed himself into my grasp, holding me firmly with one hand under my backside, his fingers slipping deep inside and driving me wild.

“And I missed you, sir.” I grinned. “With so many watching, it was hard to keep my hands to myself.”

“You wanted their hands too? Or only mine on you? I’ll have to muzzle you if you grow too wild.”