The Dukes' Christmas Abductions (3 page)

“God
I hate storms. Where’s Clo? And who was that guy who abducted her?” Her words
tumbled out in a rush. “Why have you tied me up, what’s going on and
Aghhhhhhhhh.” A flash of lightning and a loud clap of thunder made her freeze
and to her utmost shame and horror she began to sob.

Shit
I hate me like this, but godalmighty I think it’s inevitable. Not in a scene in
a
scene
. At a sodding fancy dress ball in a bloody storm and no duvet to
hide under or cat to cuddle. I hate storms.

“ I
hate storms.”

He
moved swiftly. “Oh my heart I know you do. If you promise not to thrash around
anymore I’ll unfasten you. I was so scared you’d hurt yourself.”

He,
dammit she needed to know his name, she couldn’t call him
him
all the
time, moved to her side. “Yes?”

“What?
Oh right.” She remembered his statement. “No thrashing, though I might hide
under the duvet and shake. I...”

“Hate
storms.” He bent to the ties at her feet and unfastened them with a speed any
Dom in the club she visited would envy. “So you say every time. Before you grab
Corso—the kitten,” he added evidently in response to her blank look of
query—“and head for the silverware cupboard and usurp the butler.” He repeated
his actions on her wrists and lifted her into his arms. “This time you have me.
We’ll shut the curtains and cuddle.”

Vicky
decided she liked the sound of that except for a few important points she’d
just discovered.

“I’m
naked.”

“I
like you naked,” he said, unconcerned as her voice rose to ear splitting
screech-level once more.

God knew
she’d probably have lost her voice before long if she didn’t calm down.

“You
might, but I don’t go naked with someone I don’t know.” There, that sounded
reasonable, didn’t it?

“You
don’t go naked with anyone except me or I’ll tan your sweet arse until it’s the
color of those curtains over there.” He pointed to the long, deep red curtains
that dressed the floor to ceiling windows, which showed the rain lashing on
their panes and every so often allowed the room to brighten up with lightning,
and dim the glow of the candles. “You’re mine,
ma petite
. Only mine. And
with me, only me, you are naked.”

“Hmm.
So you say. Then if I’m yours, who am I and who the hell are you?” She glared
at him, and waited to hear what he would say. Something else niggled at the
corner of her mind. “Why did you call me that?”

He
raised one sculpted eyebrow in a most imperious manner. Something that she
rather thought would normally reduce her to acquiescence.

 
Normally? What on earth is normal?
“Why
did you call me ma petite?”

Chapter Three

Kit
bit back the oath he wanted to utter and counted to ten. Why on earth was his
usually biddable, well biddable as long as it was within the dynamic they had
agreed on, or in the sphere of their everyday life, wife acting like a spoiled
young deb? She knew fine well what his uttering of
ma petite
meant.

Didn’t
she? Her strange behavior worried him, and that query worried him most of all.

When
he’d met his Victoria and told her of his likes and needs she’d listened wide
eyed and thought for several minutes. Then she’d tilted her head to one side
and smiled. “A
dynamique
? Something
we wish to have and adhere to?”

He
grinned and tapped her backside none too gently. “Exactly. So we have a dynamic
of our own for us and us alone, and a life on show to others. But if I say to
you
ma petite,
you know it is our special time. Yes?” She’d nodded.

 
Now he wondered if she really had suffered a
stronger injury than he originally thought.

“Victoria
I’m beginning to fret more than a little.” He settled her deep into his lap so
his cock was squashed between her arse cheeks. “Why are you denying all we
have? All we are?”

She
gave him the sort of look guaranteed to shrivel bollocks. All of a sudden he
was glad his were hidden under her body and his evening breeches.

“Maybe
you could get it into your pea brain that I haven’t a scooby what you’re on
about?” she suggested.

Kit
understood sarcasm when it was delivered in that tone of voice. It was a pity
he had no idea what she said. “It’s now established that a brain isn’t the size
of a pea.” Well he was sure he’d read that somewhere.

“In
a male, considerably smaller?” Victoria suggested sweetly. “And in a man’s case
located in his gonads?”

His
lips twitched involuntarily. “Gonads?”

“Bollocks.”

“Ah.
Well let me just say some of your phraseology is incomprehensible to me.”

“Eh?
Oh good grief. Let’s converse in words of two syllables eh?” She shivered. “And
pretty please with sprinkles on, can I have a robe or something? Why don’t you
have the heating on?”

He
gestured to the fire. “It’s as good a blaze as ever.”

“No,
the…”

He
watched as she looked slowly around the room.

“Is
the electric off cos of the storm? Clara said it does happen sometime. But I
thought you’d have lamps and things, not just candles.”

 
He latched on to the one sentence he
understood. “We decided only to use candles in the bedchamber. And that you
would be naked. We both agreed on that.”

“Even
when it’s freezing?”

He
shook his head stood up and dropped her onto the mattress, which dipped as she
bounced gently. “It’s nowhere near freezing. But if you’re cold you may slip
under the covers. I’ll join you in a moment.”

“Not
until you tell me who you are, you won’t. I don’t sleep with anyone I don’t
know.” She crossed her arms and stared defiantly at him. “Spill the beans. You,
me, where, how, why?”

 
There she went with incomprehensible
utterances again.

“Victoria.
Your name is Victoria.”

She
tutted. “Duh, I know that, though everyone but everyone calls me Vicky or Vic.
If as I said they like their face the way it is. Who are you? Gah, I’m sounding
like a stuck record.”

“Christopher,
known as Kit, Lord Capel, the Duke of Aulban.” He paused to see if there was a
glimmer of comprehension on her face.

There
wasn’t.

He
sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Your
husband.”

 
His wife stared at him, and then began to
laugh.

 
The laugh got louder, shriller, and became
hysterical.

“Now
I know you’re delusional.” She shook her head and her long brunette curls spun
around her face like a whirling, dancing mass. “I don’t have a husband.”

Could
his day get any worse?

****

Daniel
paused mid swatting the delectable arse in front of him to rub, what must be a
considerable ache by now, away. His quarry had stopped screaming for this
Vicky, at last, and unless his senses were completely off, she was starting to
enjoy his attention. Certainly her breaths were coming in short gasps, and
instead of struggling, she was raising her bottom into every carefully placed
swat of his hand.

The
evening was definitely looking up. As was his cock, which was in danger of
splitting his evening breeches.

There
was one way to find out for sure. Daniel slipped his fingers under the hideous
undergarments, and smirked at the all over body shiver his girl gave. Satisfied
with not only her reaction but also by the wet, hair-free cunt he found, he let
his digits linger.

“Oh,
god.”

Her
breathless moan spurred him on, and he grinned when he found her hidden pearl.
She shivered again when he circled the tight nub, and Daniel set up lazy
circles, designed to drive any woman wild. This chit proved no exception. The
air grew heavy with the musk of aroused woman, and Daniel inhaled deeply,
before he stopped the movement.

A
strangled groan escaped his girl, and he tapped her arse again, when she tried
to rub her cunt on his fingers.

“Oh,
no, you don’t. I want the truth, starting with your name, and maybe then I’ll
let you find release. Only on my say so, though, are we clear here, girl?”

“Fuck,
yes … ow.”

Her
arse cheeks wobbled most satisfactorily, when he yanked that odd fabric down to
her knees, and delivered a few more swats to her delectable arse. The woman had
a derriere made for fucking, hips to grab onto while he sunk his cock into her
body and claimed what was his. That thought made his head come up.
His
?
He had no business having proprietary thoughts toward a servant like that.

“Fuck,
we most certainly will, but not without you telling me who you are, so…” He
delivered another open handed swat across both of her arse cheeks this time,
and her answering deep throated moan made him go so hard it was a wonder he
hadn’t spilled in his breeches yet.

“Clara,
Sir. My name is Clara.”

Daniel
slid his fingers through her sodden slit, and flicked her nub once, causing her
to give another one of those cock hardening moans.

“Very
nice, but the correct address would be my lord, chit, would it not?”

A
strangled groan was his response this time, and when he withdrew his fingers
again, she slumped.

“Sorry,
My Lord.
”

The
girl, Clara, he mentally amended, had fire, that was for sure, if the
intonation she gave his title was anything to go by. A certain amount of
boldness was something Daniel certainly appreciated in his bed partners. If
Clara was a lady’s maid, she was wasted in that position. As his mistress,
however…
 
His mood improved dramatically
as that thought took hold.

It
was Christmas, time to be charitable and all that went with such bounty, and
what could be better than elevating this lovely creature from her status of
mere servant to his mistress.

Mind
thus made up, it was time to taste her nectar and to see if what he was
suspecting would be true. That Clara and he would mesh perfectly in the
bedroom, and he could let his darker desires shine through.

He
indulged himself by sliding several digits through her wet cunt, lubricating
them with her juices, before he slipped one finger into her tight channel, and
brought his thumb to press against the puckered hole, guarding that entrance.

Clara
stiffened slightly, but she didn’t voice any protest, and when he started to
thrust the finger in her cunt slowly in and out of her, she gasped. Her hips
rose in involuntary jerks, which told him how close she already was to
exploding under his ministrations. Her untutored responses made him want to
hurry this along, but Daniel was never an inconsiderate lover. He would give
her several releases before he claimed his own.

“Good
girl, and who do you work for?”

Clara
moaned and writhed against him, her internal muscles fluttering around his
fingers in rippling moves, which signaled her impending orgasm as clearly as
the rosy flush spreading across her skin. So beautifully responsive. She jerked
when he tapped her nub, and then withdrew his hand.

“Faversham
Estate. Oh god, please, My Lord … I.” The rest of her pretty little plea was
lost in a screech as he swung her off his lap and onto his bed.
 
Her breasts bounced most satisfactorily, and
her lovely almond shaped green eyes widened further when he crawled onto the
bed with her, and straddled her midriff. Daniel grasped her arms and brought
them high above her head. The action made her breasts rise up in silent
offering, and Daniel smirked.

“Hmm,
that would mean you work for me. How delightful. Whatever position you hold
here, I much prefer you in this one, unable to move and at my mercy. I’m going
to tie your wrists together and tether you to one of the posts, sweet Clara. Is
that acceptable to you?”

Her
breathing hitched and her pupils dilated to such a degree that only a small area
of moss like color remained around the outer ring. Her breasts quivered with
the force of her breathing, and the scent of her nectar increased. No doubt she
would be leaving a wet spot on his covers by now, and wasn’t that a delightful
thought.

He
still needed to hear her say the words, though. His employee she might be, but
he would not force his attentions where they weren’t wanted. Not that it had
ever been a problem. As the heir apparent to Faversham Estate, and the Duke of
Hockwell, he was one of the most eligible bachelors of the ton, and well used
to ducking meddling mamas and enticing widows, alike, bent on leg shackling
him.

If
and when he selected a bride it would be someone of his choosing and more than
willing and able to accommodate his somewhat unusual needs.

Not
for the first time, Daniel mused how lucky it was that both he and his cousin
had similar tastes and were able to confide in each other. Not only that, at
times they had worked together to ensure they had all they wanted.

“I
asked you a question, girl.”

“Yes,
My Lord, but…”

An
unwanted and surprising wave of affection gripped him when he looked down to
see Clara bite her lip, and blush crimson. It was endearing the way she wore
her feelings on her sleeve, and a refreshing change from the artifice of the
usual women in his acquaintance.

Transferring
both her wrists into one of his large hands he reached across to the nightstand
to retrieve his cravat. He had to grin at the way her eyes followed his every
movement, and a little whimper escaped her throat when he ran the ends of the
silken material across her nipples in slow circles.

“You
have an objection, my dear?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“Not
exactly, but don’t I get a safeword or something? At least that what happens in
the books, and—” She slammed her lips shut and looked anywhere but him, when
Daniel burst out laughing.

“Books,
you say? I shall have to read these books you refer to. No young lady, servant
or not, ought to be reading books like that.” He reined in his amusement when
she frowned at him. Fire flashed in her expressive eyes, and he dipped his
head.

“Forgive
me. I do not know what you mean by such a word, but I assume it to mean you
want to use a word that makes you feel safe?”

At
her nod, he dropped a kiss on her nose which made her go a little cross eyed,
and made his chest feel tight. What was it about this chit that drew him like a
beacon, and made him act quite so out of character? It wasn’t just her looks,
though had she been a lady of the ton, those alone, coupled with her fabulous
curves would have drawn his attention like bee to the honey. Except the
freckles!

Something
else was at play here. Something indecipherable, which tugged at his
heartstrings and made him want to protect her.

“Yes,
because I’ve never done this before.”

Her
whispered confession should have been the equivalent of a cold dousing of water
straight from the well. Daniel wasn’t in the habit of deflowering virgins. They
tended to get over emotional, and doing so to a member of the ton was
unpardonable. He had no wish to get snared into marriage like that, and a fair
few had tried in the past. It had made him even more cynical of the fairer sex
and their machinations on the whole.

Delivered
in Clara’s throaty whisper however, the confession—one that she hadn’t needed
to make after all—made his prick jerk against his restraints. Daniel released
his hold on Clara’s wrists, lest he hurt her in his agitation, and getting off
her, swung his legs over the side of the bed to give himself some breathing
space.

Just
to be clear he had heard her right, he had to ask.

“Never
as in never having been tied up, or never as in you’re
virgo intacta?”

He
inwardly grimaced at the haughty way in which those words came out of his
throat, which seemed clogged with emotion. Kit would have a right laugh at him
if he saw him now, that’s for sure. A ripe, wet woman at his disposal and he
couldn’t even bring himself to look at her.

The
bedcovers rustled as though she had moved, and seconds later tentative
fingertips brushed over his shoulders. Innocent as the contact was it
nonetheless shot darts of awareness of the woman behind him straight to his
cock, and he groaned under his breath.

“The
latter,” she said, and Daniel shook his head, and bounded off the bed and out
of her reach.