In the Wake of the Wind (30 page)

“Adam? Why would I be acquainted with someone called Adam? The only Adam I ever heard of lived a very long time ago, and didn’t
he
think he was a fine fellow?” She chuckled as if vastly amused by her wit.

“Never mind,” he said, thinking he must have misunderstood
Serafina
after all. He didn’t even know why he’d bothered asking Elspeth, when the woman was the loosest screw he’d ever encountered. “It was a foolish question.”

“Not all questions are as foolish as they might seem, Aubrey, and you might keep that in mind when you look to the future. More answers lie in the far distant past than you realize.”

“I’m sure. Good day, Miss Beaton,” Aiden said, his head beginning to ache from a combination of smoke fumes and sheer frustration. “Enjoy your celebration.” He left swiftly, unable to abide another moment of lunacy.

“Good day, Aubrey,” Elspeth said, waiting for the door to close behind him. As soon as it had, she gave a little skip of excitement and gleefully clapped her hands together. “The magic is working, Basil,” she sang, turning a circle. “He’s on his way. Not long now. Not long at all.”

Charlotte lay still as Frederick prepared her for her afternoon rub and nap, her teeth gritted in anger. Nothing was working; her brother was becoming more enamored of his wife by the minute. She’d watched them this afternoon from her position at the drawing room window, walking hand in hand, heads bent together. She’d seen the long, passionate kiss Aiden had given
Serafina
when he thought they were unobserved, and hadn’t missed Serafina’s equally impassioned response.

Charlotte squeezed her eyes tightly closed, loathing welling in her chest. The very sight of
Serafina
made her ill. Not only had Charlotte been unable to discover anything about her sister-in-law that might hasten her downfall, but she was also forced to witness the constant ardent glances Aiden cast his wife and Serafina’s calculated response, so shy, designed to further inflame him.
Oh, yes, Serafina
knew the game well. She’d probably been playing it for years, judging by its effect on
Aiden.
The poor man hadn’t been himself since his marriage, his tongue practically hanging on the ground as his wife led him along by the nose—or more likely by his male member.

Charlotte colored hotly as the image of Peter the footman’s swollen organ came clearly to mind. Recently she’d been constantly plagued by these thoughts, playing the scene over and over again when she’d found Martha and Peter together, Peter poised to enter Martha’s body, his shaft so huge, so powerful.

She quickly forced the image away with a little moan. The erotic currents running between her brother and his wife were obviously affecting her reason. And yet as wicked as she knew the wish to be, her deepest desire was to have the same for herself.

And why shouldn’t she? Why shouldn’t she, Lady Charlotte Delaware, daughter of a marquess, have a normal life like everyone else? She was a beautiful woman. She’d become aware of that recently, spending hours gazing into her vanity mirror, thinking about how Raphael must see her. For the first time since her accident she actually enjoyed looking into mirrors, knowing that her looks had not been wasted after all.

She had skin the color of porcelain, eyes the same sapphire blue as her brother’s, and her features were even and classically arranged. Her figure was good, even better now that she’d been exercising.

And oh, she couldn’t wait to surprise Raphael with her news, for his entire life would be changed. That was the sole reason she’d agreed to go to London, to prepare herself for their future, to meet the appropriate people.

But for now it was her secret, her wonderful little secret that she planned to save until the moment was right. And that day would not be long off, the day when she pushed herself out of her chair and walked across the room into Raphael’s loving arms.

Her pain had vanished, and with it the weakness in her limbs. The exercises and constant massages had helped to revitalize her muscles, and she could now stand without support, each day for longer and longer. She had even tried taking a few steps, although she still needed to lean on furniture and tired quickly.

But soon, so soon she would be waltzing with Raphael. And soon enough she would be his duchess, the childhood dream that had been shattered by her accident finally realized.

Frederick finished rubbing her back and rolled her over to work on the front of her legs, arranging her dress over her ankles as he always did. But today she reached down and pulled it up above her knees.

He shot her a startled, questioning glance.

“Really, Frederick,” she said, smiling at him, “there’s no need to be so careful with my modesty. I’d rather you do your work properly, and the higher up my limbs you rub, the better the treatment will work. You’ve already effected such an improvement in my condition.”

“Yes, my lady,” he said, nervously licking his lips, but he did as he was told, his hands slipping up under her dress to her thighs, kneading the muscles there. Charlotte sighed with pleasure at the feel of his fingers soothing and rubbing. She really couldn’t help herself; she let her knees fall slightly apart so that he could work his hands even higher.

And she couldn’t help that her gaze drifted to the bulge in his groin as she imagined what lay beneath. She drew in a sharp breath as she realized that the bulge was shifting, changing, growing stiff, the hard outline unmistakable in his breeches.

The slow throb that had started between her legs turned into a desperate pulsing, and warm moisture trickled from her cleft, soaking her curls. She moaned aloud and tilted her hips up, urging his fingers closer.

Frederick closed his eyes, beads of sweat springing to his brow, and Charlotte knew with certainty that he wanted to touch her there just as much as she wanted to be touched.

She daringly eased her legs open even farther, knowing she was being horribly depraved, but helpless to prevent herself. She burned, desperate for release.

“My lady,” Frederick gasped, his breath coming in rapid pants. “I don’t know
what …
do you want me to—that is …” He swallowed hard. “Oh, Lord above,” he croaked.

“I want you to touch me,” she said, her voice low, her chest rising and falling as rapidly as his own. “I want you to touch me there, Frederick. I know you want to touch me and you may.”

“Are you—are you sure, my lady? I don’t want to lose my job should you change your mind.”

“The only way you’ll lose your job is if you don’t get on with it!” Charlotte cried in frustration.

“Yes, my lady,” Frederick said, his expression pained. He brushed his fingers up, leaving a trail of fire on her sensitive skin, and she gasped as he found her nest of curls and cupped it in his hand, rubbing in little circles.

“Oh—oh …” she cried as his fingers dipped between her throbbing folds, and rubbed there too, back and forth until she sobbed with unbearable pleasure. “My breasts,” she cried. “I want you to touch me there, too.”

“Yes, my lady,” Frederick barely managed to gasp. With one hand he deftly pulled the bodice of her dress away, exposing her breasts. He cupped one delicate swell of flesh in his palm, then pinched and squeezed the nipple with his fingers, his other hand still stroking between her cleft. Charlotte tossed her head back and forth, her entire body shaking.

“Show me your organ,” she panted. “Take it out and show me.”

Frederick turned scarlet and gulped, but with one hand he undid his breeches and let the flap loose. His shaft sprang free, and Charlotte thought she’d go out of her mind with excitement. It was big, sticking straight out from a tangle of dark hair, as swollen as she’d remembered Peter’s. The blunt tip was red and hungry looking, a drop of moisture beading from it.

Charlotte sobbed and reached out a hand, pulling Frederick closer. “Touch me with it,” she whispered. “Don’t put it in me, just touch me.”

Frederick nodded, and he pushed her skirt up to her waist, exposing her flesh to his wicked, lustful eyes. He came over her, his weight resting on his forearms and the tip of his huge organ slid between her cleft. He rubbed against her as he had with his fingers, but this was different, so wildly electrifying she thought she might scream. His head dropped down and he took her breast in his mouth, sucking and pulling desperately as his hips slid back and forth, back and forth.

Charlotte knew what they were doing was sinful. She’d never intended to go so far, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t stop, not now. It excited her more, knowing how depraved her behavior was.

Frederick pulled away for a moment, and Charlotte sucked in a sharp breath as something invaded her—his fingers, she realized, diving inside her, driving her into a full frenzy as they moved in and out, his thumb sliding over that hard little nub of sensation he’d found that made her writhe like a madwoman. And then he came back and pressed his shaft just there where his fingers had been.

“Don’t worry, my lady,” he said hoarsely, “I ain’t going to enter you, just bring you off nicely.” He pushed against her opening, the tip of his head just inside her. He stayed, rocking his hips ever so slightly, over and over, his thumb rubbing on her nub until she thought she’d go insane.

Charlotte opened her mouth in a silent scream as she climaxed, her flesh throbbing wildly around his blunt head. He groaned and slid away from her, his body falling onto hers. His hips jerked and he sighed, something wet and sticky sliding onto Charlotte’s bare midriff.

“Sorry, my lady,” he choked. “Couldn’t help coming off. I was too far gone. I hope you don’t mind—you won’t catch a babe this way.”

Charlotte touched her fingers to the semen he’d spewed onto her. She brought her fingers to her mouth and rubbed them on her lips with a slow smile, then flicked her tongue over her lips, tasting. She liked the taste, salty and foreign. And she liked the smell. Male. Crude. So erotic.

“I don’t mind at all,” she said, flicking his cheek with her thumb. “I liked what you did. Did you like it too?”

“Oh, yes
indeed, my lady,” he said, rising and adjusting his breeches. He shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve tried to keep my mind off sinful thoughts like you taught us. But the last few days—I don’t know, my lady. I’ve fair been going crazy with lust. It’s been difficult touching you and not thinking about other things.”

Charlotte smiled slyly. Of course it had been difficult, the poor boy. He couldn’t resist her, and why should he? She sighed happily, thinking of all the happy mornings and afternoons they were going to have together. As long as he kept her a virgin for Raphael, he could do anything he wanted to her. She wasn’t going to turn back now, not when she’d just discovered how stimulating lust was.

Daily bouts of it were only bound to improve her health.

“You’ve been daydreaming the afternoon away, my dear,” Lord Delaware commented, sitting back on his heels and smiling over at
Serafina.
“Are you thinking of your introduction to society as Aiden’s wife, perhaps?”

“Not in the least,”
Serafina
replied, adding another clump of weeds to her growing pile. “London society holds no interest for me. I’d far rather stay here and tend to the gardens, but I know that Aiden feels strongly that we all make the right impression, so I’ll do what I can, even if I do feel awkward.” She wiped her hand over her brow. “More to the point, how do you feel about going to London, Papa?”

“Oh, I suppose I feel happy that I can make up for past mistakes, but I share your attitude—I’d be just as content to stay at home and watch the gardens blossom. You don’t suppose Elspeth will change her mind and come along, do you? I’ll miss her company.”

Serafina
laughed. “Society will be far better off without my aunt to take it to task. Auntie’s more suited to peace and quiet and doing things her own way. She decided a long time ago that she wanted nothing to do with the ways of the normal world.”

“Yes, a most refreshing woman,” Lord Delaware said with a chuckle. “She has given me hours of pleasure. I dread the day that she decides to return to Clwydd, for the house will seem empty without her.”

“I know. I’ll miss her too, although she’s been so busy with her experiments that she hasn’t had any time for conversation outside of dinner.”

“Well, my dear, the two of you have brightened our dreary lives considerably. Look at Charlotte, for example. She positively glows with beauty these days, and I rarely hear a harsh word out of her.”

“Charlotte is much improved, and you can thank Auntie for that.” She dug at a stubborn root with her spade, thinking that Charlotte might be much improved, but she still had the eerie habit of creeping up on a person unannounced. And there was something about Charlotte that still made her nervous, as pleasant as Charlotte was to her. She felt as if Charlotte was always probing and poking, as if she was trying to discover some enlightening secret about Serafina’s life before Townsend.
Serafina
would have loved to gratify her, but there was nothing to tell. But she supposed that anyone might be curious about a life lived with Aunt Elspeth. Fortunately, Charlotte still knew nothing about Elspeth’s beliefs, and
Serafina
planned to keep it that way, which was why she was reticent to discuss her time at Clwydd.