Taming Maria (8 page)

'My guardian
must be exceedingly wealthy,' Maria observed, wondering which
delicacy to try first. There was much to choose from; salads and
salmon, wafer-thin slices of beef and ham, cold chicken, a variety
of cheeses, butter fresh from the dairy, crusty bread from the
bakery, pyramids of fruit, delicious syllabubs and concoctions made
from ice-cream.

Glass
scintillated and silver cutlery gleamed. 'Prinny would enjoy this
feast,' Charles remarked, flicking out a lace-edged handkerchief
and dabbing his lips.

'Prinny?'
Maria was puzzled.

'Prince
George. He loves food almost as much as fucking.' He said this as
casually as if he was discussing the weather.

Maria did not
even blush. Let this popinjay try to embarrass her. He would find
he had met his match. She was determined not to let him get the
upper hand. She ignored him, filling a plate and carrying it to a
couch where Jane sat, picking at the food.

'What's the
matter now?' Maria was finding her friend's unhappiness hard to
endure.

'I'm missing
Robin so much. It's torment to know he is but a few miles
away.'

'Stop
fretting. Emily is a resourceful girl and walking out with Tranter,
one of the grooms. I'm sure that if you write a letter to Robin I
can get it delivered. Tranter will wait for a reply and we can
arrange a tryst.'

'How
wonderful! Oh, I can't thank you enough!'

'We shall have
to be careful. The viscount would be furious were he to find out.'
Maria knew she would be held responsible and her spanked flesh
tingled.

She dispatched
Jane to the library where pen, ink and paper could be found and
then ordered Emily to attend her in the cloakroom. Arabella was too
engrossed with Charles and the dilettantes who clustered around to
notice her disappearance.

Maria
succeeded in giving Sarah the slip. The duenna was getting tipsy,
encouraging the attentions of a strapping flunky who was supplying
her with champagne. Maria hoped that she would forget her duties
and have nothing on her mind but fornication.

Jane handed
her the note and she passed it on to Emily who slipped out to the
coach, found Tranter and gave him his orders. There would be time
for him to borrow a horse from the stable, find his way to Robin's
lodgings and complete the business before the event concluded. Not
only would he be rewarded by more of Emily's bounteous favours, but
half a guinea as well. Maria and Jane returned to the party.

Damien
observed his guests through a cunning invention that appeared to be
a gold-framed Venetian mirror in the saloon, but was in reality a
window giving a clear view to anyone on the other side of the wall.
He stood in a narrow corridor that separated him from those he had
invited; one of the secret places that honey-combed Strafford Hall.
A cynical smile lifted his lips as he mentally saluted those old
monks who had known a thing or two about spying.

This aroused
him, his cock rising within the slim-fitting pale grey trousers
that were part of his evening attire. His guests were already
inebriated, losing their inhibitions and behaving like the
indulged, licentious individuals that existed beneath their polite
exteriors. Not all, of course. He was duty bound to invite a few
stuffy, influential people who would uphold his reputation when
others reviled him. He had many enemies, but then who didn't in
those troubled times? There was an unpleasant rumour circulating
that his wealth was partly due to his dabbling in politics, his
loyalty to the Crown suspect. None of this had ever been proved. He
was too cunning for that. He smiled and inserted a hand down the
front of his trousers, finding his erection and caressing it.

Soon those of
a virtuous disposition would take part in the minuet, whilst other,
more adventurous spirits would accompany him to the vault. He knew
who they would be - a bishop, a duke, a magistrate, a Member of
Parliament and the like. Whilst the women would have countesses and
ladies-in-waiting among their number, to say nothing of well-bred
brides and blue-blooded virgins, actresses and high-class
prostitutes.

We are all the
same under the skin, no better than rutting animals, he decided,
and not for the first time Maria's image swam into his ken, and his
cock jerked in his fist. Chastising her had been the most exciting
thing he had done for a long time. He had every intention of
marrying her, transferring her money to his bank and her lands,
properties and every other part of her estate into the hands of his
lawyers. He could father two or three children on her and then, if
she became troublesome, have her diagnosed as insane and
incarcerated in a lunatic asylum for the rest of her days. This was
a common practice among those of their class.

The feeling
was mounting in his balls as he handled his penis. He had time to
spare and could jerk off before performing his duties as host. He
opened his trousers and drew out the proof of masculinity of which
he was so proud. The notion of thrusting it into Maria's virgin
hole almost tipped him over the edge. He slowed down, avoiding the
helm, but keeping up a slow, steady frottage on the dark-skinned,
vein-knotted stem, careful not to slide his foreskin up and over
that all too sensitive head. Pre-come was dribbling from the single
eye. Passion began to take over, the urge to ejaculate
uncontrollable. Nothing mattered but that divine sensation when he
spurted. He was a heartbeat away, no more, when the rush suddenly
slowed as he saw the man standing talking with Maria.

His spunk
retreated, his balls slackened and his penis drooped. 'Charles
Bradbury! Damn him!' Damien growled. 'That bloody upstart! How dare
he approach her! Jesus Christ, I'll call him out!'

'It is
exceedingly hot in here,' Maria remarked, stirring the air with her
fan and wondering how Tranter was getting on.

By now couples
were dancing, a colourful collection going through the steps of
minuet and gavotte that they had learned in childhood, when they
were being prepared to take part in events like this. Her toes
tapped but she did not want to dance with anyone except Damien, and
he was still absent. Charles smiled at her and said, 'Shall we take
a stroll in the conservatory? I promise you that I'm not such a bad
fellow, and respectful of maidenly virtue.'

Maria could
not be sure if he was mocking her but, bored and restless,
permitted him to escort her. Sarah should have followed, but she
was nowhere to be seen, probably in some secluded nook with the
flunkey, getting up to all sorts of ribaldry. 'I wish I was a
commoner.' The words popped out of Maria's mouth without
thought.

'And why,
pray, is that?' Charles stood back, so that she might precede him
into the luscious tropical area.

'They have so
much more fun than we do. What with finishing school when we were
ordered around by dames and then residing with relatives who expect
us to be as chaste as nuns. We have no freedom and it is driving me
insane.'

They paused by
a pool where a pair of swans floated majestically, stirring the
water-lilies. The fronds of palms imported from the East brushed
the glass cupola, and exotic perfume breathed out from white
flowers with orange stamens reminiscent of phalli. Others trailed
from baskets or occupied jardinières - - vines, orchids and other
plants imported from hot climates.

Maria and
Charles were not the only ones seeking seclusion. Couples lingered
in the shadows, or leaned against stone balustrades or sat entwined
on benches. There were no chaperones, which indicated that the
women were either married, widows or, like Maria, downright
disobedient. Charles stood with her, gazing into the darkness that
stretched away into the distance. She was lost for words, wondering
why she had put herself in this position. It was indiscreet to say
the least. He moved and she jumped nervously. All he did was draw a
sliver snuff-box from a pocket, open it, take a pinch, balanced a
tiny dune at the base of his thumb and lift it to each nostril in
turn, sniffing appreciatively.

'I saw you
race,' he said, replacing the box.

'You did?'

'I put money
on the outcome, backing Damien.'

'You had no
faith in a woman winning. That was short-sighted of you.' This
annoyed her and she wanted to go back to the saloon.

'I shan't make
that mistake again. You were superb. Did you know you were
challenging your guardian?'

'I had never
met him before.'

'Strange. Had
he not taken an interest in you?' Charles slanted her a glance, and
she was very aware of his shoulder touching hers, velvet against
bare skin.

'Lady Arabella
tells me he is away a lot. She was the one who had cared for me,
sending me to school and letting me visit her sometimes.'

'You are an
heiress?'

'So I'm told.
I would like to go home to Burrington Manor and take command, but
they say I must wait until I'm twenty-one or find a husband to
manage my estate. I don't want to do this. I'd like to marry for
love, not because it is convenient.'

'Hmm, this
only happens among the working class, and even then the parents
often have a say in the matter. No doubt things will change
eventually. It seems that you have ideas ahead of your time.'

It was
pleasant to be holding a conversation with a man as if they were on
a par intellectually. All too often Maria had endured being
patronised, but Charles was not like that. She'd never had a
brother, and felt that had she been so fortunate he might have been
something like Charles. Then, honest to the point of brutality, she
scolded herself. It was not a fraternal relationship she wanted
with him, but a full-blown sexual one.

He moved a
step closer and desire speared her. If she had entertained impure
thoughts when at the finishing school, then these had increased
tenfold since coming to London. She longed for Charles to kiss her
so she could test her own response and compare his mouth to
Damien's.

'Were I your
guardian I'd not let you out of my sight,' he said, speaking low.
'You are too beautiful, Lady Maria.'

'He trusts
me,' she replied, though not sure if this was true.

'Then the
man's a fool!' There was mockery and a trace of anger in his
voice.

'Are you
suggesting that I'm a strumpet?' It aroused her to argue with him,
the air sizzling between them.

He chuckled.
'That's not very nice coming from the lips of a genteel young lady.
Do you know what a strumpet is?'

'Of course, do
you think I'm a complete ignoramus?' She did not want to talk or
explain herself or do other than be folded in his arms, pressed to
that broad chest and caressed by those strong hands. If Damien had
abandoned her, then there was no reason why she should not flirt
with another man. She owed him nothing. The tender skin of her
backside still remembered his harsh handling and, though ragingly
indignant at his treatment, she quivered and burned. Would Charles
seek to chastise her? The idea made her nipples peak and sent
ripples down her spine into her womb. I'm bad, she thought, really
bad. Maybe I do have the makings of a strumpet.

The moon was
rising, filling the garden with blue radiance. Bats swooped from
the bell-tower and barn owls were engaged in hooting and hunting.
Maria wanted to remain like this for ever, and nestled into him as
he drew her close, not caring if he was testing her morals. He did
not take unfair advantage, simply stood there, holding her, then
raised one of her hands to his lips and kissed each finger, one by
one.

She felt
laughter sweeping through him as he murmured, 'You shouldn't be
allowed out. Much too potent for the male race. Are you aware of
the effect you're having on me?'

She was fully
aware, recognising the hard bulge distorting the front of his
breeches. Unable to control herself she moved sensually, rubbing
herself against it. He bent and kissed her, their mouths opening
and their tongues meeting while his hands clasped her buttocks,
making them make contact with his cock, using small, firm
thrusts.

His kiss was
different to Damien's, as commanding, but more sensitive to her
feelings. It was lovely, but lacked that spice of danger associated
with her guardian. His hand wandered to her breast and his touch
turned her insides to jelly. He toyed with her nipples and the
pleasure shot down to her clitoris. He employed both tongue and
fingers to give her the utmost pleasure, so skilled that she became
jealous of those fortunate women who had been the recipients of his
lovemaking before her.

He lifted her
skirt, cruising up her thigh and finding the downy fork between.
Maria drew in a sharp breath as he landed unerringly on her crack,
parted it and found her nubbin. She was not sure about this
intimate caress. It was too soon. She hardly knew him. Above all
she did not want him to think she was a trollop. As if sensitive to
her feelings he concentrated on stroking her lower belly, brushing
across the curly triangle, wooing her gently as if she was a
nervous filly. It was most persuasive.

Then like a
lightning strike that comes without warning, Damien was there,
swinging Charles round to face him. 'What the devil are you doing
here, Bradley? And get your dirty hands off my ward!'

'You invited
me, sir.' Charles could not have been more composed. Maria's skirt
slithered into place and it was as if he had never touched her.

'I did? When
was this?' Damien looked as if he wanted to strike him.

'At White's
Club last week. Don't you remember, or were you too cup-shorten?'
It was plain to see that these gentlemen loathed one another.

'Are you
suggesting I can't hold my liquor?' Damien's face was hard, his
eyes flinty.