Innocence Enslaved (20 page)

“Yes, sir.” Her answer came out so soft she doubted that he heard.

Whether he did or not didn’t seem to affect him or his plan for her, as his fingers slid along each side of her slit, separating the folds and spreading her open. Heat rushed to her face, knowing he had a perfect view of her secrets and the lewd wetness he had created. She tensed, grabbing onto the legs of the stool for support and letting out a strangled squeal, as the tip of one finger located the pulsing spot that had been begging for his touch.

His name escaped in a throaty moan from her parted lips as his finger circled slowly, gliding easily through her copious wetness. Nothing had ever felt so amazing. Her body quivered under his ministrations as the hard reminder of his desire jerked beneath her. That made her think of nothing except having him inside her. She instinctively ached to be filled in a way she had never experienced, but knew would help assuage the fiery need. She didn’t care if she gave up her innocence when he took her; she needed to feel him there.

“You’re so close, dove. Surrender to the pleasure.” He rolled her swollen nub between his finger and thumb, applying more pressure until she thought she would burst.

Then suddenly, every muscle in her body tightened as she spiraled higher.

“That’s it, sweetling,” he urged softly. “Let go for me.”

Gripping the legs of the stool tightly, she focused on Corbet’s arousing touch, but her mind leapt to what Lomb had done to that woman, driving into her in a carnal and decadent joining that would send her flying apart. Then it happened; she did come apart, or so it seemed as her body jerked involuntarily. She cried out as indescribable pleasure surged through her in powerful waves. Through it all, she was distantly aware of his firm hands holding her close, stroking her soothingly as he murmured words of reassurance, making her feel safe as she lost control.

When the sensations started to ebb, her legs trembled and her arms were weak. She relinquished the fierce grasp on the wood that surprisingly had not splintered asunder. As she came back to earth, she shivered from the thin sheen of sweat that had broken out on her skin and realized that she lay limp and heavy like wet linen over his lap.

The thumping in her chest and ears had started to calm when his hands gently turned her over. He slipped both arms around her to support her spent, languid body as he cuddled her close.

“What did you do to me?” she asked in wonder.

He chuckled. “I helped you gain a woman’s pleasure, my sweet.”

She could see the unquenched desire burning within him as he softly caressed her parted lips. A jolt of excitement stirred in her belly. He could take her now and she’d welcome him. With open arms and parted thighs, she’d relish the hard length of him sinking into her creamy center, filling her to overflowing as he too took his pleasure.

“Take me now,” she pleaded shamelessly.

He closed his eyes, his body gone rigid with tension as he declined her heartfelt offer. “No, dove. I’m going to hold you while you recover and then tuck you into your maiden’s bed the way you left it this morning.”

His reply held a ring of finality as did the fact that he reached for her dress. Lifting it over her head, he settled it around her, mindful of her tender bottom and loosely tied the laces in back. Once covered, she leaned weakly against him, feeling oddly content, but confused. She rested her cheek on his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heart, and feeling the pulse at her hip where his hard need pressed unabated. Why would he give her so much pleasure and not seek his own?

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, hoping he would explain. “Don’t you want me?”

He put a hand in her hair, cradling her as his lips brushed to the top of her head. “I can think of nothing I want more; however, I promised to keep you pure and I intend to do so.”

She tried to lift her head, but he held it firmly to his chest. “Corbet, please.”

“Hush,” he urged, smoothing his hand down her back, along the length of her hair. “Although I am very aroused right now, I will not dishonor you or your family by taking your virginity. It touches me that you came back when you could be on your way home right now. I regret having to be unduly harsh and couldn’t send you to bed in need of release a second night in a row.”

Emilia stiffened in his arms. He’d touched her out of guilt. Gave her pleasure out of pity. How could he torture her like this, making her body soar with a bliss she never knew existed only to crush her hopes that he might want her the same way she wanted him. More tears stung and threatened to fall.

Having gone from the pinnacle of pleasure one moment to the depths of misery, she figured she had nothing more to lose and told him what he wanted to know.

“The reason I came back, it’s because I’ve fallen in love with you.” She paused, holding back a sob. “It’s foolish with the circumstances, but being around you makes me feel things I’ve never felt before and I thought you might want me, and in time, perhaps come to love me too.” She took hold of his shirt, burying her face in it, too choked up on tears and anguish to continue.

“Shh,” he soothed, stroking her hair. “It cannot be, dove. We are of two different worlds. I am of Lancore, and you know better than anyone what that entails. After what’s happened, your father would never agree to you staying here, and if you did, I would have to ask for special dispensation from Lord Ervin to free you for us to wed, and that is impossible.”

“Why?”

“We have a history. Suffice it to say, my request would be denied and bring undue attention upon you because of my interest. I won’t risk that. What’s more, I’ve proven myself a horrible husband once, I don’t wish to repeat the past.”

To Emilia, it mattered not what others thought or desired for her. She was old enough to decide for herself and she wanted Corbet.

“Then keep me as your pleasure slave in truth.”

“No. That isn’t an option.” He snapped this response, his tone brooking no argument. “You’ll go home and find a fine local man to marry.”

“I don’t want another. I can’t help what I feel for you.” She wiped at her cheeks as she continued, her words nearly a whisper. “I’d like to stay, even if you don’t feel the same.”

Catching her chin in his hand, he angled her face up to his. He leaned in close until their noses were nearly touching. Her heart started thumping wildly, hoping she had gotten through and that he meant to kiss her.

“I do feel something for you, Emilia,” he murmured, his warm lips nearly brushing hers. “But I shouldn’t. We can’t. It is far more complicated than you know. There are things you don’t understand.”

“Kiss me. Just once,” she begged. “That will change your mind—”

He pulled away from her, recoiling as though she’d bitten him. “No, not again.”

“Not again?” she parroted, confused.

“Never mind.” Tightening the arm around her shoulders, he put the other under the bend of her knees. “It’s time we get you to bed.” He stood, taking her up with him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, noticing an entirely different look on his face than only moments ago. She’d angered him. But how?

“I’m sorry,” she murmured as he strode with her in his arms across the stable, leaning over a bit to blow out the lantern by the door. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not,” he stated into the sudden darkness. He didn’t sound angry, yet there was something in his tone that said he was no longer comfortable talking either. “This shouldn’t have happened.” His stride was quick and his words clipped as he took her to the house. “I cannot let myself be tempted by you. I am meant to be alone. You must understand this, Emilia.”

She couldn’t understand it though. He wanted her. She’d seen the desire in his eyes. His past was a misfortune indeed, but why did he feel the need to restrict his heart forever because of it?

He made quick work of the door, passing through the kitchen to the stairs, carrying her up to the landing where he paused. “You will not speak of this to the others. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied sullenly.

He gently lowered her feet to the floor. “Are you able to stand?”

She nodded, holding her tongue lest more embarrassing pleas and entreaties escape. When her feet hit the floor, she clung to him, still a bit weak in the knees.

He held on for a moment as if to make sure, then turned her to face the open door in the middle of the hallway. “Good night, dove,” he said firmly, before giving her a little nudge toward her bedroom.

As he strode to the stairs and made his descent, she listened to the thud of his boots until they faded away before she walked dejectedly to her shared room and crawled into her cold bed all alone. Yet again, he’d managed to leave her befuddled and ashamed of her blatant yearning for him. She was too exhausted after the long tumultuous day to sort it out now. As she drifted off thinking about where his fingers had been, she couldn’t keep the sad smile from curving her lips.

Chapter Thirteen

Corbet walked back to the stable with two purposes in mind: to clear his head of thoughts of Emilia and to retrieve the paddle he’d left lying on the floor. He was only successful in one of the two. Squatting in the hay, he picked up the stout sanded board that he’d used solely as a prop. He turned it over in his hands, remembering the pervading fear and yes, some true anger, when he’d learned she’d run from him. Born out of fear of losing her as swiftly and enduringly as he had Sara, the spanking hadn’t been entirely an act on his part. He’d been tempted to give her more than his hand, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to use the harsh paddle on her delicate skin. He’d seen Charles apply it effectively on one of their absentminded stable lads; the strapping youth who was more of a man than the others in his employ had howled and shook the rafters when he’d earned a dozen swats after leaving the paddock gate open. He’d stood for his meals several days thereafter, never being so careless again.

Not wanting Charles to make assumptions or ask him questions about why it was sitting in the middle of the floor, he replaced it on its hook where it served as a warning that his stable master walked softly, but carried a stout stick.

After replacing it, he rubbed both hands over his face in exhaustion. It was a mistake, as Emilia’s scent lingered on his fingers and brought thoughts of her flooding back to the forefront of his mind. Spearing his fingers through his hair, he growled out his frustration.

He began to pace back and forth in front of the stalls. Guilt over his brutish behavior weighed heavily on his mind, yet with so many curious observers avidly watching tonight, he’d had little choice except to play the role of a no-nonsense slave owner. If not for Redford’s warning, he might very well have taken her into his arms and kissed her in front of their audience, such was his relief that she’d come home safely. That would have been an egregious error, not only for exposing his less than masterly feelings for his pleasure slave, but for inflaming the burning desire he’d been trying to keep at bay.

Echoes of her cries as she shuddered in ecstasy while half naked over his lap lingered intrusively in his mind. Damnation! He never should have touched her after the spanking. He knew that, nevertheless, he couldn’t resist, plagued as he was by his constant need to possess her. The haunting sound of her sultry voice called out to him in his dreams, more so in his waking hours when the lilting ‘sir’ rose from her pretty pink lips, or when she forgot and let his given name slip. ‘Master’ also did things to him that he was determined not to dwell on.

The bare-boned fact was that she stirred him like none before her, not even his beloved wife, which made his gut grip with the guilt of betrayal. Emilia’s skin held an irresistible allure, the texture like expensive silk beneath his rough fingertips, as was the mass of her coppery hair that forever escaped its confinement, falling in long spirals over her shoulders, and clinging to the provocatively elegant curve of her neck.

Worst of all was her scent. It surrounded him like a wispy fog, enveloping his senses whenever she was near, increasing to torturous levels when she was aroused whether by a fleeting touch, or if he inadvertently brushed her body in passing. The spicy fragrance of her innocent desire had taxed his control the few times he had bared her fully, or stroked the taut curves of her bottom, and heaven above, how it engulfed him when the evidence of her need had glistened on her thighs every time he spanked her. And now that he knew the full force as her essence flowed generously from her cunt onto his driving fingers…

“Arhh!” he yelled as his fists clenched tightly in his hair, welcoming the stinging pain. Somehow, he was going to have to find a way to curb this uncontrollable ache and the yearning need that could never be.

What had shaken him to the core tonight was her resolve to come back. Did she really have that much faith in him, or was it because she hadn’t seen the harsh reality of Lancore’s deviant and immoral practices? If she only knew what went on behind the high manor walls, and lurked in the black soul of the man they called earl of Lancore, surely she would have chosen to let her father’s friend take her home. In her naiveté, she couldn’t imagine what her next trip into town could be like or what wickedness awaited her around the next bend in the road, like it had Sara, who suffered from it to her dying day.

“Hell and blast, no!” he swore aloud. “Not if I have the power to prevent it.”

Never again would he allow Ervin’s evil debauchery to touch someone he cared for. That is why he erected walls around his heart, to keep tender emotions from penetrating, something sure to attract Ervin’s cruel attention as it had in the past. It had been a mistake to take her to town and flaunt his pleasure slave about. In an attempt to protect himself, he had placed her at risk.

Ervin’s spies would surely carry word back to the earl that a woman had caught his enemy’s interest, though she was a slave, bought and paid for as he would any other commodity. The townsfolk knew he had looked for her after the commotion. The people would expect that she be disciplined accordingly for straying from her master’s side no matter the circumstance. Further, the law was quite clear that the punishment be severe enough to deter any further attempts and that the slave be marked, visibly and permanently, with a sign of their status. A whip that scarred met the dual requirement, where the hard spanking he’d administered, or the firm paddling he’d implied, might not. He hoped fervently that it had satisfied the witnesses’ twisted need for gratification, because the whip, and the other two options, were too horrific for him to consider when it came to Emilia. Permanent scars were unthinkable; an enduring iron collar and shackle, the true sign of a slave, was too degrading; and the ultimate penalty, a brand bearing the master’s sign was something so abhorrent, his stomach churned at the notion.