Sattler, Veronica (13 page)

The
movement, especially the touch of his fingers on her delicate flesh, sent a
shiver through her, and Ashleigh tried to pull away but found she was trapped,
for part of her long hair was caught under his arm as he leaned on the
mattress. "Wh-what are you doing, my lord?" she managed to whisper as
she felt his finger trace the delicate line of her jaw, then move to brush her
lips.

"Brett.
The name is Brett," he said as his finger again grazed her bottom lip.
"Say it, beautiful Ashleigh. Say my name."

"I...
Brett..."

"That's
better," he murmured, and his head slowly lowered until his mouth reached
then lightly tasted where his finger had touched.

The
kiss was soft and light at first, but then, as his lips lingered, it grew firmer,
with a sensuous plying of her lips beneath his, until, before she knew it, her
own were parting as the tip of his tongue slipped lightly between. Then she
felt him pull softly at her bottom lip with his teeth while at the same time
his hand caressed her shoulder, pushing the coverlet aside.

She
was all at once reminded of the circumstances that had brought her here in the
first place and drew breath to protest, but his mouth closed firmly over hers
while his hand went lower to cup her bare breast. Alarmed now, and suddenly
mindful of the shame and pain of their recent union, Ashleigh twisted her head
to the side and pushed at his chest with her hands.

"No,
little one, don't fight me," he murmured against her cheek. "I mean
to give you pleasure this time."

"Pleasure!"
she gasped, drawing back within the circle of his embrace to look at him.
"Surely, my lord, you—you toy with me! You—oh, please—please don't hurt me
again, I beg—"

Brett's
soft laughter interrupted her plea as his turquoise eyes met her wide, fearful
blue ones. "It doesn't hurt after the first time, little Ashleigh. Didn't
they tell you that in your instructions?" Again his hand found her breast,
and this time the thumb brushed expertly across the nipple, causing it to peak
and harden instantly.

Ashleigh
tried to ignore the answering response in her loins, concentrating on what he
had just said. "In—instructions? I've had no instructions in—in
this!"
she insisted, and suddenly she felt the urge to weep, and the sharp sting
of tears assailed her eyes. "Please, I—I beg of you, my l—Brett—let me go!
I—I'll just return to—to where I came from. You—you needn't p-pay me. I—oh,
just let me go..
. please!"

Brett
watched her eyes fill up with tears as she spoke and almost relented, but then
the echo of a refrain he'd heard a thousand times entered his head:
Women
are duplicitous and evil, bringing no man aught but ill... good for only one
thing...

Suddenly
Brett's embrace tightened, and he rolled until she was completely beneath him.
"Hush!" he ordered, and his eyes bored into hers with a look of
command. "This isn't going to hurt you, so be still. You might even come
to enjoy it." All the while he spoke, his fingers played with her breasts,
lightly stroking them, teasing their tips into hardened peaks. Then his head
bent to follow where his fingers had been, his tongue working expertly until
she began to writhe beneath him, soft little cries breaking from her throat as
she succumbed.

Soon
his hands were traveling lower, across the expanse of her soft, flat abdomen,
then lower yet, his fingers tangling gently in the raven curls of the dark
triangle below.

Ashleigh
gave a gasp of surprise as one of them found the wet warmth of the crevice
between her thighs, and before she could do more, his mouth closed over hers,
and at the very moment his tongue entered her mouth, she felt his finger follow
a similar course below. Slowly, and ever so gently, tongue and finger slipped
in, then out again, then in, and then his thumb brushed the tiny bud above her
opening, and all at once a shock of pleasure assaulted her. Again, his thumb
did its work, and now Ashleigh's entire body responded with a quivering shudder
of pure pleasure.

Brett
raised his head and recognized the glazed look in her eyes. He made yet one
more pass with his thumb, and at her answering moan, he smiled with knowing
satisfaction. "Now, my lovely one," he whispered. "Now I'll
prove that pain is no longer a part of this for you."

With
a quick shifting of his weight, he positioned her beneath him, parted her
trembling thighs and thrust into the waiting warmth between.

Ashleigh's
mind fled her body, and all that was left was pure sensation. From the
throbbing core at the center of this, and where she now felt an incredibly
satisfying pressure building, she sensed a spiraling outward, as ring after
ring of sweet pleasure pulsed through her. Vaguely she realized the man who
possessed her body was moving on it in a steady rhythm, and she had begun to
move with him, caught up in the heady throes of it. And all the while a longing
was building, growing steadily stronger, robbing her of her senses.

Brett's
mouth found hers again and, without even a protest, she found herself accepting
the sensual thrusting of his expert tongue, even as her body accepted the
demanding thrusts below, and in the next instant, she felt his body tense and
then convulse on hers.

Then
there was a muted male groan and a final thrust before he released her lips,
and all was suddenly still, except for their ragged breathing; she felt him bury
his face in her hair, and knew another part of him still lay buried within her.
They lay together this way for several long minutes, neither speaking, while
their breathing returned to normal.

At
last, when he was sure he could speak intelligibly, Brett rolled to one side,
pulling her with him in an embrace. "You—you either learn very fast,
little one, or you finally remembered what they taught you," he said.

To
Ashleigh, who was barely recovering from the shock of this latest
experience—not to mention her surprise at how it had differed from the
first—his words were like a splash of ice water on her senses. She wrenched
herself away from his arms and jerked herself into a sitting position on the
bed. "You—you
bastard!"
she snarled, using a word she'd only
heard till now, and had never uttered herself. "How
dare
you cling
to that fabrication—or misconception—or—or whatever it was, that I—that
I'm—that I was
trained
for something like this! I was trained as an
academic, I tell you! As a governess! Or, at least, that's what I was hired
for.
Why
won't you believe me?"

Brett
watched her blue eyes sparkle in anger and was momentarily captivated. She was,
by far, the loveliest creature he'd ever taken to bed, and right now she
resembled a small, spitting kitten, caught up as she was, somewhere between
sexual arousal and irate femininity. He doubted she even realized the fetching
picture she made, either in those moments before, when she'd enticed him beyond
telling with her lush, perfect little body, or now, as she sat with her shiny
black hair charmingly tangled, her eyes huge and blue, her ripe lips bruised by
the passion of his kisses. And suddenly Brett made up his mind as to what he
would do about the situation. The girl, whatever her background, was a natural
and superb bed-mate. He currently had a mistress in London—Lady Pamela
Marlowe—but she was beginning to tire him, and who could be a more perfectly
timed replacement than this tempting little piece of baggage? That was it! Of
course, she required further training....

With
a devilish grin, Brett suddenly hopped off the bed and bent to pick up
Ashleigh's discarded shift and traveling dress. He gave the shift a quick
glance, eyeing its shredded fabric, and immediately discarded it, but the dress
he tossed to her on the bed.

"Dress,"
he told her. "I'm sorry about the chemise, but don't fret. We'll order you
a dozen new ones tomorrow."

Ashleigh
looked at him warily as she drew the dress toward her; then, realizing what
he'd said, responded angrily. "I have no intention of remaining here long
enough to—"

"Dress!"
he commanded.

His
tone brooked no argument, and so she hastily began to comply, doing her best to
clothe herself in the single garment under such awkward circumstances.

When
at last she had succeeded in the difficult business (made doubly so by having
to do it all under his relenting gaze), she slipped off the bed and bent to
retrieve her discarded stockings, garters and slippers from where he'd somehow
removed and thrown them earlier.

At
last she stood before him totally clothed, and she was about to head for her
valise where she knew she'd packed a hairbrush and some extra pins, when she
heard him say, "Now remove your clothes."

Thinking
she hadn't heard correctly, Ashleigh turned to him with a puzzled look. "I
beg your pardon?"

Brett's
voice was firm with command as he looked her straight in the eyes.
"Strip," he said.

Ashleigh's
eyes widened in disbelief. "But, I—you just told me—"

"I
know what I told you, my dear," came the response, "but now I am telling
you something else. It is time for a broadening of your... education.
Strip!"

Ashleigh
quaked at the tone in his voice and knew she had no choice but to comply. With
shaking fingers and a face gone red with embarrassment, she reached for the
fastenings of her dress.

After
some time, during which the room remained deadly silent, her dress once again
fell to the floor. Without looking at the man next to her, she then dutifully
bent to remove her slippers, but a sharp command from Brett stopped her.

"Stop!"
he ordered. "We shall leave your slippers and stockings on this
time."

Ashleigh
straightened, but kept her eyes focused on the floor. She began, automatically,
to cross her arms in another vain attempt at covering herself, but once more
Brett's voice rang out to forestall her movements.

"No!
Leave your arms at your sides. You have a beautiful body, and I would see all
of it—unencumbered."

Ashleigh
did as she was told, but the act cost her greatly. She felt her cheeks go hot
with shame as she stood rigidly facing him.

"That's
better," he murmured. "Now go to the bed and lie down."

Oh,
God, he's some kind of cruel madman, I just know he is!
she thought, but
she turned and climbed onto the large bed, even as a pair of silent tears
traced their way down her burning cheeks.

"No,
not that way," came the strong voice behind her. "On your belly. It's
not too soon to learn of a little variety."

Ashleigh
detected a note of amusement in his tone, and the thought that her humiliation
should so humor him sent a stab of white-hot anger through her. With a furious
toss of her curls, she glanced at him over one shoulder and spat a sarcastic
retort. "I'm so
glad
this sport amuses you, my lord!"

A
low ripple of laughter met her ears, nothing more, and she had to satisfy herself
with a withering glare as her answer. Then she turned on the bed, squirming to
place herself in the position he'd demanded, little realizing that each
wriggling movement of her small, curving derriere rendered her all the more
appealing to the man who watched and waited.

When
at last she lay face down in the prone position, Ashleigh felt her tears
subside; in their place her anger returned, this time without any attendant
words, but in full force. Duke's son, or no, she vowed, some day this man would
be made to regret his behavior tonight. Just who did he think he was, anyway,
to take her maidenhood from her so? Even the king or prince regent wouldn't
treat a young woman of good family this way, she was sure of it. But then the
thought came to her that she had no way of proving to him that she was such a
one—a baronet's daughter. Why, he hadn't even believed her when she'd told him
she was a virtuous servant girl!

But
suddenly Ashleigh had no more time to contemplate her anger or the vagaries of
Brett's treatment of her, for there was a soft footstep and then the feeling of
a man's hands on her body. She sucked in her breath as they ran over her back
and buttocks, then gasped as his fingers traced the crevice there before
finally finding their way into the opening between her thighs. She moaned then,
with humiliated resignation and abject shame, as she felt one strong finger
enter her, and momentarily raised herself up on her elbows and tried to pull
away.

"Be
still!" he commanded, even as his finger probed deeper.

But
Ashleigh's misery was so complete by now, she no longer cared what happened.
With a sharp twist of her hips, she wrenched away from the devastating touch of
those fingers, only to cry out in pain as his hand came smartly down with a
sharp, spanking slap on her buttocks.

"Be
still, I said!" he ordered.

Then,
just as she was wondering what he would do next, Ashleigh felt the bed sag and
the weight of him on her back as he mounted her from behind. She tried to
struggle, but only succeeded in pushing her squirming buttocks into a position
of utmost vulnerability, and with a gasp of dismay, she felt him drive his
shaft into the place he'd already violated.