Manor of Pleasure: An Erotic Historical Romance (2 page)

CHAPTER THREE

When Rebecca awoke for the second time, it was in the fullness of morning. She opened her eyes lazily, and stretched her limbs to the ends of her bed. She was totally wrought up in feelings of blissful expectation. She sighed happily and reached out to ring the bell for Nora.

"Desmond, Desmond, Desmond," she sang softly to herself. She was enchanted. She rose and sat down at her vanity.

A light rap on her door broke her reverie. Nora entered quietly and set at once to pulling the drapes open. "Good morning, ma'am. Sleep well then?" asked Nora.

Rebecca noticed Nora's gray complexion in an instant as daylight spilled into the room. Nora was haggard. Clearly, both girls had a few hours fitful sleep but for very different reasons.

She was unsure of how to relate her happy news to her ill-fated maid and decided against it for now. She would keep her emotions in check.

Rebecca smiled at her. "Well enough, I suppose, in the circumstances, Nora. Did you enjoy the ball last evening? It couldn't have been easy, I know."

Nora poured hot water into the cream-colored basin across the room. "I enjoyed it as best I could, ma'am. There were distractions," Nora returned the smile but grimly.

"Still, you bore your emotions well," Rebecca responded. "I can't thank you enough for your dedication, despite everything." The two women exchanged a knowing glance that belied the disparity in their respective ranks.

Nora brought Rebecca a damp warm cloth which she put instantly to use. Nora set to brushing Rebecca's long brown hair.

"Nora…I do so want you to know how very much I'm hoping and praying for Wexley. You must know as well that my father will do all in his power to see him back at Penhope Manor. He wishes to have no other as his valet."

"I do know that. Both Charles and I are so very grateful, ma'am."

A comfortable silence settled in for a minute or two. In lower tones, Rebecca said quietly, "What was it like, your wedding night? Was it all you expected it to be?"

The question was certainly unexpected but Nora's face warmed, her eyes softened. "It was lovely. And no, it was not what I expected. It was much more." She continued to brush her mistress's hair.

Rebecca ventured again. "Did it hurt?" She could not look at Nora, embarrassed as she was by her own boldness.

"Ma'am!" Nora exclaimed in a whisper, feigning shock. As she brushed, she looked to be choosing her words carefully. "Let me just say this. I was about your age—twenty one—when I married. Charles had far more experience than I. He knew what I was about, how things worked. If there was pain, I have no memory of it." Nora blushed slightly.

Rebecca pursed her lips in a small smile, lowered her head and quickly changed the subject. She looked to her wardrobe and said, "I rely on your choice today, Nora. Make it a happy one. I'm quite beyond making any more decisions."

Nora laid out Rebecca's soft blue gown and walking over to the dresser, fetched her mistress's chemise and petticoat. She stopped her work momentarily and peered at Rebecca, quizzical and amused at the same time.

"You're different today, ma'am. I might even say that you're glowing. Anything you care to share?"

Rebecca turned from the glass to address her. "Nora, whatever do you mean? Is it not a day unlike any other? Your husband was facing death and is now healing at the clinic. You can't deny me the relief that I feel for Wexley." Rebecca gave Nora the whole of the joy that she felt in a wide smile.

"All right then, ma'am." Nora smiled back. "You're absolutely right." She proceeded to help Rebecca dress. The two enjoyed each other's quiet company.

"Your sister, Louisa, is with your mother in the dining room. What shall I tell Cook?"

"Nothing for the moment, Nora. Thank you. I'll be down shortly."

Nora left the room, closing the door soundlessly behind her.

After several minutes and her preparations completed, Rebecca studied her reflection. She wanted so much for her appearance to please him.

Her hand rose to her throat where memories of his kisses lingered. She followed the length of her neck with her index finger until her palm rested on her chest. She could feel her heart beating.

She belonged to Desmond now. She would dwell on this notion until his arrival. Otherwise, every moment would seem an eternity. She reached for her favorite scent, dabbed it on both wrists and on either side of her neck. She rose and left her room.

As Rebecca approached the dining room, she struggled for reserve and stood briefly outside of the entrance. Deep breath. Go with bold strides. "Good morning, Mother. Louisa."

"Good morning, Rebecca," Lady Evelyn Garway responded lovingly. "You were up late."

"Was I?" She was all coyness. She wondered what her mother knew. She sat down at the table.

"When I retired, you were still dancing," her mother said, "with Desmond." She looked toward her eldest daughter, her right eyebrow raised.

Louisa rose from the table.

"Mother, I'm taking the carriage into town today. Do you need anything?"

"Perfect, Louisa. I have a letter for your brother, Owen. I'll fetch it for you in a few minutes."

Louisa looked out the window. "Speaking of Desmond, he's just outside. Are you expecting him?" She looked to Rebecca.

"Why on earth would I be expecting him?" Rebecca rose to join her sister at the window.

"Your father made no mention of him. Perhaps there are some accounts to be settled. He must be leaving for London soon."

Lady Garway looked to Rebecca for her reaction. Rebecca said nothing. She turned to smile at her mother. Rebecca was so excited, she feared giving herself away.

"I'll see to him, Mother, if you'll excuse me." said Rebecca. "I'm not at all hungry."

Lady Garway did not want to excuse her. She was fond of Desmond but she had hoped her daughter would have made a more suitable match. He had no title and only a modest fortune which he earned as a barrister and inherited as the son of a successful solicitor. She wished her eldest daughter would for once recognize the futility of nurturing such a deep friendship with such a man. He was a leaden anchor, weighing her down and away from potential suitors. Lady Garway distracted herself with thoughts of Rebecca's plans to travel to Wales in the summer.

As Rebecca came upon the entry way, Abbott, the footman, already had Desmond's coat in hand. "I will let the Lordship know you're here, Mr. Baines."

"Thank you, Abbott, but I can make my own way to the library, if you don't mind. I've got rather urgent business with him." Desmond watched Rebecca's approach and smiled. She was, he thought, sheer perfection.

"Lady Rebecca…how are you?"

"Desmond, I'm so very happy to see you." Rebecca grabbed his hand. Abbott was out of sight. She kissed him quickly on the cheek and drew back.

Desmond looked past her, assuring himself of their privacy. He reached for her waist and pulled her to him. "Is that all I'm entitled to, even now when we're engaged to be married?" Desmond scolded her, "Have you no idea of how long I've been waiting?"

He caressed her right cheek with the back of his left hand. He smiled, leaning down to kiss her. He kissed her soft lips fully, firmly.

Rebecca reciprocated, parting her lips to breathe him in. Fearing capture, she broke the kiss first, pulled away and composed herself in seconds.

"Desmond Baines, you do take liberties," she teased quietly. She gave him her classic smile. "To the library then?" she asked.

They walked together. "Would you fancy a ride later this afternoon?" Rebecca asked him. "It would be nice to get some fresh air."

"We could make a day of it," Desmond suggested slyly. "We could be out there in an hour, if we play our cards right."

"Perfect." Another classic smile. All she wanted was to be alone with him and soon. She cared not a whit whether that involved horses.

Desmond stood back at the entrance to the library, allowing her to pass in front of him. He caught a whiff of her perfume as she walked past and he was instantly aroused. It was the same perfume that had filled the night air as he preyed upon her in the east library.

Lord John Garway, Earl of Delafield, stood at his desk, distracted. Hearing their chatter, he looked up. "Good morning! Desmond, I wasn't expecting to see you today. I thought perhaps we might have worn you out completely. From all appearances, your dance card was quite full last night."

"You know I really quite enjoyed myself," Desmond replied. "I wasn't expecting to. Things seemed to get better as the evening went on." He passed a knowing glance to Rebecca.

"Glad to hear it," his lordship said jovially.

Desmond cleared his throat. "Lord Garway, I'm afraid I have some unfinished business with you."

"Do you? Something to do with the estate?" Lord Garway's voice was worried.

"Not entirely. You see…" Desmond paused, looked at Rebecca and back to Lord Garway. "Rebecca has finally accepted me. I've come to ask you for her hand."

Lord Garway looked at Desmond incredulously, and then to Rebecca. "What are you saying?" He was in fact speechless. He walked over to his eldest daughter. "Is this true?" he asked her, knowing full well that it must be. She grabbed his hands. "It is, Father." They embraced warmly.

Lord Garway turned to face Desmond, beaming. "My good man!" He grabbed Desmond's hand and shook it firmly. "You shall have it then. In truth, I can't imagine that it ever belonged to anyone else." Lord Garway rang the bell for Tobias, the manservant. "We must tell your mother, Rebecca. And Desmond, you and your mother must dine with us tonight!"

He gazed warmly at his daughter, his words echoing in her heart. “I wanted a good man for you, my dear, and instead you found yourself a great one.”

Such good news, indeed.

CHAPTER FOUR

Lady Garway's reaction was, as expected, one of acceptance and of unspoken grief. "So…have you decided on a date?" Her eyes were veritable beacons of anticipation.

"It's to be in June, Mother. We wanted to marry sooner but…" Rebecca looked to Desmond.

"I have business matters to settle in London," finished Desmond, "And I still need to re-establish my law practice in London."

Lady Garway cautioned her daughter, "June is not long away, Rebecca. We simply must get started."

"Wedding plans," Lord Garway said plainly. "Well, I'm afraid that signals my exit. Desmond, shall we leave this business to the ladies?"

Desmond looked at Rebecca and back to Lord Garway. "Forgive me, sir, but Rebecca and I have plans for an outing. We're to go riding. Isn't that right, darling?"

"Yes, it is. And the day is wearing thin. We should head out." Rebecca's heart fluttered at the thought of the afternoon's prospects. She had already planned out her strategy and had a precise destination in mind.

Not an hour later, Rebecca dismounted her ride and tied her horse onto the post of the weathered fence at the edge of the woods. She watched Desmond ride up.

"You win again, Rebecca. Remind me never to wager you. You'll bankrupt me." He gave her a sidelong glance.

She laughed, petting the black muzzle of her horse.

Desmond landed softly on the ground beside her. His horse tethered securely beside hers, Desmond grabbed her hand and Rebecca led him into the forest. The brush around them crackled and snapped as they forced their way.

"What is this?" Desmond inquired as they came upon a small cottage.

Rebecca whispered in dramatic fashion, "It is the haunted cottage of Hanging Hollis the
Gamekeeper."

Desmond laughed lightly. "That's ghastly. You're joking, surely." He tried the latch and it didn't budge.

"I assure you, I'm not. He did hang himself." Rebecca answered. "My sister and I never ventured back here. We were terrified of coming upon his corpse swinging in the trees." She looked about her in a pretense of nervousness.

Desmond continued to study the problem of the door. "Don't be scared, darling," he rejoined, "I am your fearless protector." He grinned at her.

Desmond braced to take down the door by force while Rebecca looked on, amused.

"Step aside, sir." She shifted her hips, shoving him playfully. He stepped back and put his arms about her waist, hugging her to him. He buried his face into the side of her neck. She jiggled the door back and forth while pressing keenly on the rusted fixture with both hands.

The door sprung ajar. Her eyes flashed at him triumphantly. She stepped forward into the damp and dark structure. Desmond followed her, his hand on her hip.

Together, they surveyed the state of things. The place smelled faintly of must and there was a thick veneer of dust on the cottage's two windows, making them impassible to a view.

The room was sparsely furnished. There was a straw-filled mattress in the corner of questionable use. A table and chair had been situated across from the mattress.

Standing so close to her, Desmond was heady from her scent. He felt his passions rising. He turned her to face him. Rebecca's face was still flush from the ride and tendrils of her hair framed her cheeks and forehead.

He brushed aside a stray brown tress from her eyes. "You are quite simply the most beautiful creature I've ever beheld," Desmond teased softly. "Why ever did you bring me here?"

Rebecca turned around to face the room once again. She tried her best to sound detached, "Oh, I don't know. You'll have to learn to hunt now we're to be married. This place could prove useful."

Rebecca felt abandoned by her usual poise. She walked to the table, taking off her gloves first, then her cape. She draped it on the back of the chair.

"Just try to imagine it." She turned and smiled at him.

"Do you know what I think, Rebecca?" he said, striding to her and taking off his gloves in turn. He pulled her to him. His eyes traveled from her green ones, down her throat to the rise and fall of her breasts.

"I think you mean to seduce me," he whispered into her hair. His hands slid down the curve of her back, to her hips and he pulled her closer still, until she could feel the hardness of his loins against her thigh. "Am I right?" His blue eyes were piercing, his breathing, soft but labored. "Is that what you mean to do?" he whispered into her mouth, their lips poised for intercourse.

Rebecca draped her arms about his neck. His lips were even softer than she remembered. She opened her mouth, her tongue sliding along the inside of his top and bottom lips. They felt like silk.

Desmond took her head in both of his hands and murmured tenderly, "God, I love you, Rebecca, beyond anything imaginable." He looked at her intently. "Can you feel what you do to me, Rebecca Garway?"

Before she could answer, he kissed her again, fiercely, lustfully. His right hand felt for the buttons of her dress and he undid them with as much haste as he could muster.

Upon the last, he reached over her bare shoulders, and ran his hands down her silken arms. Her dress wafted to the floor.
Instinctively, Rebecca let her head fall back, allowing him a clear path to her throat. His lips landed there and traced a downward path.

Rebecca watched, wide-eyed, as his lips caressed the tops of her breasts that mounded from the ruffled lace of her chemise.

She held onto his head, losing her fingers in his hair. He straightened, and asked her, breathlessly, "Is this all right?" His eyes were a desperate blue and his blond hair was tousled. He was so utterly wild, vulnerable, like a boy after her approval.

Rebecca was speechless; she was so consumed by her wanton appetites.

He grabbed her hands and brought them up above her head. Alone at first, he began to lift the chemise up over her hips, her breasts and finally her head. Then he stood back and watched as she continued the task of removing her petticoat, her dark brown hair draping down.

Desmond watched, mesmerized. When she had finished, she returned his stare and allowed her petticoat to fall from her body. His countenance shifted visibly as he surveyed her nakedness.

He pulled her to him boldly by her waist and with his other hand, he cupped her breast, squeezing gently. Her breasts were smooth, rounded and white, like the halves of a ripe pear. He brushed his lips, first against the right one, then the left, alternately licking, sucking, and biting.

Rebecca quivered, uttering softly, "Desmond, oh…please…" She draped her arms about his neck and buried her face in his hair.

He picked her up and laid her on the mattress. She arched her back, hoping to entice him to even greater delights.

Her nipples were wet, pink candies. He stared, brushing the palms of his hands lightly over one then the other. They seemed to tremble to his touch. Rebecca gasped as he took a full breast into his mouth, swirling his tongue around its swollen tip. She moaned, feeling the swell of desire between her hips and thighs.

Desmond raised his head, mouth open. He stared at Rebecca, as a wolf might stare down its prey. Eyes fixed on her, he stood up and quickly removed his riding jacket, throwing it onto the chair. Rebecca had not seen this Desmond. He had an air of savagery about him that titillated her.

He continued to undress, first unbuttoning his cuffs, then his shirt front. His manner was hurried but deliberate. He was naked from the waist up when he reclaimed his place.

"You must promise me, Rebecca, that you will have no other lover." His voice was deep, commanding.

She slid her hands across his broad shoulders and down his muscled arms. He leaned over once again to continue ravishing her. He set again to fondling her breasts gently while they kissed with hot open mouths and he pressed her to him.

Rebecca felt herself hot, wet and aching between her thighs. She grasped at his hair with both hands. "Oh, Desmond…" she gasped.

He grabbed her right hand and placed it on his bare chest near his heart. “Promise me,” he
whispered fiercely as he kissed her.

“
I promise,” she replied breathlessly.

He moved her hand to his crotch showing her the shape and form of his throbbing desire for her. Eagerly, she sat up and brought her legs underneath her. She wanted so much to please him. The heat in her belly rose as she began to work on his belt.

Desmond leaned back against the wall and watched as Rebecca pulled at the leather straps with her slender white fingers.

He could hardly believe his good fortune. She was his goddess and he was on the brink of redeeming his reward for pleasures received.

How utterly lovely she was. Her milky shoulders were veiled by random lengths of silky brown hair.

He was surprised by her deftness as she made short work of the buttons of his breeches. She reached into his drawers and wrapped her fingers around his thickness, brazenly. Holding his shaft with her right hand, she used her left to pull away the folds of his pants.

She stared at the fullness of him as if she was not able to fathom it. Following a lustful hunch, she stroked him with her left hand while the fingers of her right hand danced around its swollen knob with light caresses.

Desmond reclined his head, and closed his eyes as Rebecca's fingers sent him headlong into a spiral of ecstasy. He yearned to watch her as she handled him but he feared an early climax.

He opened his eyes slowly just as her head descended. He could feel the heat of her breath along the shaft. "No, Rebecca, you mustn't…" Desmond grabbed her before her tongue had found its landing.

He fell back against the wall, trembling. Rebecca reclined with him and laid her head on his chest. "A moment," he said softly. "I don't want this to end just yet." He was panting.

"Did I please you?" Rebecca looked to him hopeful, biting her bottom lip.

Desmond laughed. "Yes," he breathed, and kissed her forehead tenderly. "Very much." He rested his lips against her hair.

Only seconds had passed when Rebecca rose to her feet. She could feel Desmond's eyes upon her. She reached out to him. He grabbed her outstretched hands and she pulled him to standing. His breeches immediately dropped to the ground. She smiled and pushed him back onto the bed.

"This is why I brought you here, Desmond Baines," she teased softly. She undid the ribbons that held on her boots and then stepped out of her them gingerly.

Desmond was awestruck. His breath quickened as she walked towards the mattress, and straddled his thighs.

She grabbed his hand and thrust it between her legs. She moaned as he slid his fingers between her creamy folds. As he explored her depths, he ran his open mouth across her bosom.

Their lust for each other was building to a height. She began to rock on his hand. She draped her arms about his neck, kissed him and thrust her tongue into his throat. She broke the kiss and pleaded, "Now Desmond, please, please…"

She raised her thighs and Desmond placed his cock on the threshold of her hot and luscious pussy.

Slowly, she lowered herself and shuttered slightly. Desmond let out a gasping cry as his rod was swallowed up in the tight recesses of her warmth.

Rebecca watched Desmond. His eyes were closed, his mouth open in a wordless expression of bliss. He grabbed her hips and began to push them back and forth. She rocked, each movement raising the heat in her loins.

Desmond opened his eyes and saw the woman of his dreams mounted on him in a frenzy of ecstasy. Suddenly, he lifted her up and tossed her on to her back. He buried his head between her breasts and his shaft quivered and thrust and quivered again until his orgasm.

He fell back against the wall, spent. Every cell in his body was vibrating, alive. He looked up to see Rebecca, leaning over him, smiling, and her long hair lightly grazing his chest. Her eyes were welling up with tears.

"Darling," he said softly, "Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head and laid her head gently against his chest. They lay there in silence for several minutes, both rapturous.

"I suppose we should depart for home soon," Rebecca said lazily. She traced her finger from his throat down to his chest and over his stomach. She turned and rested her chin on his chest, looking up at him. "We don't have much time to prepare for dinner."

"Would you mind very much wearing your red gown, the short-sleeved one?" Desmond asked. "That's always been my personal favorite."

"You're mad," Rebecca laughed. "As if you remember all of the gowns that I've ever worn."

"I do." Desmond challenged her. “And that one is really the most fetching…the others not so much." He grinned like a boy.

"What about the one I wore last night. You seemed to like that one well enough,” she teased. "You did, after all, propose to me."

"I think that proposal had more to do with this," he kissed her throat, "…and these," he kissed her breasts, "and this." He ran his hand up and down her thigh and slapped her left buttock.

She laughed and kissed him, lingering. She lifted her head. "Promise me you'll come to the manor as soon as you can."