The Return of Lady Honoria

The Return of Lady
Honoria

Copyright 2012 Jodi Henley

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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This is a work of fiction. Names, places and
characters are products of the author's imagination and not to be
construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales,
organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

Chapter One

Lady Honoria Cavanaugh saw her nemesis across
the crowded ballroom and immediately pictured him naked. He turned
to wave at her, the wretch—and made everyone in his vicinity
stare.

Honoria had all the usual accoutrements,
birth, beauty and wealth. The one thing she didn’t have was the
ability to stare down a crowd and Danton knew it. In less than a
month, he'd ferreted out all her secrets. To give him credit, he
didn't talk about their solitary assignation or her sexual
peccadilloes, but if there was a phobia, weakness or quirk she'd
kept hidden from the ravenous attention of the Ton, she had to
assume he was holding it like a child contemplating a blueberry
comfit. It wasn't a matter of if he'd use it, but rather when it
would do the most damage.

Gathering her composure, Honoria turned in
the opposite direction. Away from the ballroom the crowds thinned
leaving her aunt’s lavishly gilded corridors empty of prying eyes.
Honoria's reflection frowned back at her from hundreds of shiny
gold surfaces, reminding her that she'd been the one to follow
Danton to London and if she couldn't deal with his unfortunate
personality then it was better to know now, before their unorthodox
relationship went any further. Drat the man for being such a
stimulating companion. She couldn't remember actually talking to
anyone before he'd come into her life.

She pushed into a deserted drawing room and
stood holding the latch, her gaze fixed on a tall armchair turned
toward the fire. One elegantly shod foot dangled over the carved
wooden armrest, kicking slowly.

Both hands fisted at her sides while passion
rose to a screaming pitch. She lurched forward, fingers curled into
claws. “You told my father I was afraid of
horses
?”

Danton unrolled from his lounging position
and closed the distance between them. “If you're going to choke
me,” he said, politely, “you might want to raise your hands.” He
pulled her hands into place around his neck and fell to his knees,
gurgling.

Honoria dropped him. “You forgot to stick
your tongue out.”

“Did I?” He promptly stuck out his
tongue.

“Blast it all, Danton. Have you been
avoiding
me?”

Danton rolled over and held out his hand. “We
could have this conversation much more comfortably if you'd close
the door.”

He looked different in the shifting darkness,
bigger and more dangerous, unlike the nondescript lord he presented
to the rest of the Ton. His fingers were dry, welcome heat and when
he pulled her down into his arms, she went willingly. Honoria could
feel the rapid thump of his heart against her chest. He held her
tightly, face buried in her hair and she held him back.

“I missed you.”

“It's very hard to stay mad at you when
you—”

“Have such a large cock?” he inserted
brightly.

“—are such an unrepentant wretch,” she told
him.

His lips touched hers very gently. “I am a
smiling damned villain, Honoria. Never forget.”

“I'm fully aware of your villainous nature,”
Honoria said. She kept her eyes open as their lips shifted and
watched the play of firelight across his face.

“No,” he said bluntly. “You're not. But I
feel you deserve fair warning since it seems I can't stay away from
you.”

Her palm flattened on his mouth and pushed.
“Villain!” she cried, using his self-appointed label. “Did you
try?”

His tongue wrapped around her index finger,
eyes half-closed. “Don't screech, my dear. It ill becomes you.”

Honoria swayed toward him, lips parted. “I
thought we were friends.”

Danton pulled her finger from his mouth and
abruptly kissed her with very little of his usual panache. “There's
the rub. It'd be better for the both of us if we weren't. I am not
good to know, my dear.”

“If you’re bad ton, I shall be dreadfully put
out.”

“I have more entrée than you,” Danton said
bluntly. He got to his feet and picked up a heavy wooden chair.

Honoria eyed it uneasily. “What are you doing
with that?”

He gave her a sidelong look and wedged the
frame under the doorknob. “Barricading you in, my dear.”

Honoria folded her arms down over her chest.
“Why don’t you just ask me to stay?”

“Would you?”

“If you ask nicely.” Honoria gave him an
uncertain smile.

He walked up to her and slowly held out his
hand. His knuckles were scraped and bruised like he’d hit
something, but the look in his eyes made her stomach fall away.
“Stay with me?”

Honoria put her hand in his. “And your large
cock?”

His grin flashed out. “It’s very wide,” he
told her earnestly. “And one of my best features.”

She burst out laughing. “How can I deny such
a request?”

“You can’t,” said Danton. “Overcome with lust
and thoughts of an amatory nature you throw yourself on my manly
chest and demand I satisfy you for at least an hour. If not
two.”

“Two,” said Honoria, lifting her face to his.
“At least two and perhaps three.”

Honoria had watched her parent’s quick pecks
and the slobbering mother bird style she’d seen men use with other
women. Kisses, she’d thought, were vastly overrated. It seemed like
an unpleasant pastime. But it was different with Danton. She could
kiss Danton forever, lost in his embrace while their tongues
leisurely explored each other. He pulled away, swept an arm under
her knees and threw her up over his shoulder.

Honoria thumped into place, eyes wide and
arms flailing. “Danton!”

Laughter rumbled up through his chest. He
lowered her to an elaborately carved couch and rummaged in her
bodice, pulling the thin wooden busk from her corset.
“Honoria!”

He trailed the thin piece of wood between her
thighs and followed it with his hand.

The way she’d landed gave her an unobstructed
view of his crotch. She reached out to trace his rapidly growing
girth and he stopped, hands fisted in her silken skirts. He was
bigger than she remembered, and when she undid his buttons he
filled her hands to overflowing. He didn’t have an ounce of give.
It seemed incredible that even soft, he fit into his neatly
tailored pants. All that flesh had to go somewhere.

He pushed her gown up over her belly and
despite having sex with him once before, the sudden, abrupt
exposure was almost as shocking as the feel of his thumb pressing
her clit. He slipped his fingers into her willing depths and she
groaned.

“You're so wet,” he growled.

“For you,” she whispered, pulling him down
into her embrace. Her hands knotted in his hair, holding on to him.
She was on fire—ravenous with need, eyes heavy-lidded as she
watched him rear over her, one hand locked around the base of his
cock.

He paused at her entrance and sheathed
himself in a hard lunge, pushing past her defenses as she shrieked.
His free hand slapped down over her mouth, stopping her cries.

What little she could see of him over his
hand was intent and brutal, lips drawn back over his bared teeth.
He played at average so well it was unnerving to see him thus
revealed, and Honoria couldn’t stop the fine tremors that racked
her lower limbs, leaving her shaking in the aftermath of each
pounding thrust. Surely she wasn’t afraid of him?

His fingers traced the vulnerable line of her
throat before they finally locked on her chin, his blue eyes
glittering as if everything to do with her body belonged to him
alone. “Pull your legs apart.”

Lifting her knees forced him deeper. She’d
forgotten how big he was. Honoria gasped, cruelly skewered by his
impaling cock. Even his smallest movement made her painfully aware
of his enormous girth.

“You’re tight,” he growled, slamming back
into her hard enough to make her grunt.

Her head wedged against the opposite armrest.
“And you’re driving me mad,” she said, thrusting up to meet him
despite her awkward position. “Damn you, Danton!”

His grin flashed out like summer lightning
and the pace of his thrusts slowed, holding her on the very edge of
release. Closing his fingers on her nipples, he pulled and twisted
at them until her hips rolled violently.

“Like that, do you?”

Honoria moaned, rocking her ass up towards
him. She was caught in a frenzy of pain and pleasure.
“
Please
, Danton!”

His mouth traced the length of her calf with
aching tenderness and abruptly captured her lips. Unable to move,
Honoria felt his hand slide between her thighs to her clit. He
pulled the sensitive nub from hiding and clamped it between his
fingers, running his thumb over her engorged flesh hard enough to
make her eyes widen. The wet slap of their joining throbbed behind
her eyes, filling her until his face was the only thing she saw.
Every nerve ending in her body felt like it was lodged between her
thighs.

Sweat beaded the curve of his cheek as he
pushed them higher and higher, the muscles in his arms standing out
like bands beneath the soft fabric of his sleeves. His thrusts grew
harder and shorter, until he exploded and took her with him,
grinding out his relief in an almost silent, “Damn.”

*****

Despite her aunt’s vast wealth, the candles
were guttering by the time Honoria returned to the ball room. Smoke
hung on the perfumed air and made Honoria’s eyes sting. She refused
to think it might be anything more. Danton was gone. She didn’t
delude herself into thinking they’d have more time. He was as easy
to pin down as a jellied eel. Doubtless he’d show up at some other
horribly inconvenient time, but she wasn’t going to waste the rest
of the night thinking about
him
when he obviously didn’t
give a fig about
her
.

She picked through the leftover refreshments,
savagely spearing anything even remotely edible with her fork. He’d
never promised to spend eternity with her or tell her what he did
when they weren’t together. He was free to come and go. She stabbed
her fork into a lobster patty.

A flash of golden-blond hair at the far end
of the dining room caught her attention. It wasn’t Danton, but that
didn’t stop her from feeling like she’d just been kicked. He wasn’t
just well-endowed; the simple fact was that she liked him.

Honoria dragged herself and a platter of
prawn loaves into the ballroom where she found a spot close to one
of the open windows. Eugenie danced by, holding on to a
particularly tall and officious-looking man in regimental dress
uniform. Her lips were rouged--the jade! Honoria looked around and
surreptitiously bit hers to make them redder. Despite an equal
share in their grandmother’s vast fortune, her sister was set on an
advantageous marriage. Honoria’s gown was the latest kick, but
Eugenie glittered in cloth of gold like she was dressed in money
and her large, protuberant nose all but disappeared over a collar
of diamonds.

Honoria put down the platter and fanned
herself vigorously. The drapes were open, but it did little to
dispel the heat from the guttering tapers. She pulled at her bodice
and directed the stream of fast-moving air down the front of her
gown.

“Lady Honoria Cavanaugh?”

Honoria looked up—and up. If Robbie was a
handsome god, this was a warrior angel with wicked green eyes and
wavy black hair.

He smiled at her, revealing a matched set of
dimples. “Your pardon, mademoiselle. I am Michel, duc de Ganelon. I
understand we share a common interest.”

His introduction was almost as scandalous as
Danton’s, but the hand he used to lift her fingers to his lips was
hard and strong, and the bulge in his breeches was impressive.

Intrigued despite herself, Honoria swayed in
closer to the Frenchman. “And what interest is that, Monsieur le
duc?”

The Frenchman held his hand out and Honoria
put her fingers on the back of his wrist. He led her out onto the
terrace. “Voyeurism. I understand you like to watch,” his gaze
swept her body and lingered on the juncture of her legs. “As do
I.”