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“It’s the rest of the servants I’m scared for. And ... the things my cousin wouldn’t say about my new stepmother’s welfare. And her own.”
Nicholas’ arms closed around her, holding her to his chest. “Would you like me to send a few messengers, or offer to help find places for the staff you’re most worried about? Or you can assure them you’ll give them excellent references, whatever he does. We can afford to take a few of them on here if you wish.”
“Are you ... certain?” She looked up at him. He’d never slapped her down for taking one of his offers, but the habitual fear of asking too much remained.
“I’ve been trapped by a soulless bastard before. Not even the most thieving, lazy, indelicate stable boy in the world deserves that fate.” Nicholas spoke softly and kissed her temple. “Don’t worry, mia dolcezza. You’ve married the wickedest, cruelest bastard of them all. And yet here you sit...” His hand slid along her thigh, up, then splayed across her abdomen, his thumb brushing the underside of her breast through her dress.
“Wickedest, yes. But only a very good sort of cruel,” she whispered, letting his hands roam unchecked. She understood now that he used pleasure as a distraction when he couldn’t fix the problem before her. He’d spent a half day with her tied to the bed while he licked her pussy until she swooned—all because she’d given in to hysterics over a shattered dinner setting. “Nothing in this house is more important than you,” he’d growled against her breast, over and over while she wailed and tried to repeat it to his satisfaction.
Today, he kept one arm locked on her waist so she couldn’t escape while he amused himself with petting her in ways a harlot would blush to report. “Pull your skirts up,” he ordered, nipping her earlobe.
“My lord, we’re in the library. What if—”
“Then the servants will know you’re the victim of your brutish bastard husband. Trapped, letting him abuse your purity in the most inappropriate places...” He punctuated the explanation with sharp, quick pinches on her breasts, then the same tormenting hand flew up and clapped over her mouth. “And you’re going to be very quiet while he takes his pleasure, aren’t you?”
“Yes, my lord.” She breathed out her nerves and pulled her skirt up to her knee. “H—how high? My dress...?”
“That’s good, angel.” His big, warm right hand slid up under the skirt hem, pushing her thighs roughly apart. The other seized her hair at the base of her neck. “Now. You must come, Mia. Otherwise, I’ll have to strip you naked right here and give you a very, very harsh spanking.”
“N—no ... No, I’ll come, sir. My lord. I ... want to...” He’d already breached her folds, his fingertip circling her needy clit. She rocked against him, eager as she recognized the game.
“Of course you do. Now tell me why.”
“I ... I’m here for my lord’s pleasure.” She wriggled her hips on his hand, pushed herself up and down, desperate for what might come next.
“Play with your breasts.”
“H—here?”
“Yes.” His teeth raked the side of her throat. “Pinch your pretty nipples. I want them bright pink and hard as stone when I throw you into bed.”
It didn’t take much. She explored her breasts for him, her breath escaping in pants while her husband pinched and punished her folds until she whimpered for mercy. “Nicholas. Please ... I’m going ... to be so sore...”
“I want you sore. I want you begging.” He kept going, but his touch gentled again once she whispered a few more pleas, and the finger sliding into her found her favorite angle, stretching her as he added a second and a third. “You know how much I hate it when anything makes you cry without my permission.” He chuckled at her answering gasp, and the hand on her head let go, only to clamp down over her mouth, keeping her silent as the orgasm swept through her. Amy shivered through the aftershocks, trembling while he stroked her thighs and eased her dress down. “Let’s get you to bed, darling. I bet you feel even better before you fall asleep.”
He was right.
She especially enjoyed the part where Nicholas bent her over the footboard and took his pleasure while he spanked her into a mewling, dripping mess. He had to fetch a towel while she blushed and stammered in mortification.
“No apologizing for pleasure, love. Unless you want another spanking.” The threat was belied by the gentle way he folded her into his arms, but she appreciated the game.
“I promised you I’d keep you safe from him,” Nicholas whispered as she drifted off to sleep. “One day soon, you’ll never need to think about that bastard again.”
****
In fact, she didn’t think about her father for weeks afterward.
Not until the messenger came.
Rain poured down outside, and she sent the messenger to the kitchens before he continued on his routes. The road to Clarendel Manor needed new gravel and pavers, which Nicholas had only just ordered and wouldn’t arrive for some weeks, so the poor man had earned an excellent meal and the rum she sent besides, as well as to have someone dry his boots and coat. And all those arrangements let her put off opening the urgent letter he bore. Nothing from Sunderland House ever gave cheer to the world.
Spelled out in Aunt Leah’s spidery hand, Amy read the words she’d both dreamed and dreaded for her entire life:
Dearest Amy,
With a heavy heart, I must tell you that your father has had a terrible accident. I don’t think there‘s any chance you will arrive before Charles is gone from us, but I urge you to come soon. I’m sure the lawyers will be writing to your lord husband as well with all the business matters, but tell him I look forward to meeting him at last, even in these trying circumstances.
Amy couldn’t help noticing her aunt never used the words ‘sad’ or ‘unhappy.’
