His Mischievous Bride (Regency Matchmaker Book 2) Page 5

  I was in a room which I had never seen before, but which still felt familiar to me. Naked, I stood in the corner, my nose pressed to the wall.

  My hands behind my head forced my breasts forward, their taut nipples chafing against the wooden paneling. Each time I inhaled, the peaks of my breasts moved against the rough wall coverings of a decidedly masculine room. I dared not step away so as to avoid the sensuous contact, for I had been ordered to keep my nose to the wall. Unless I held my breath, the delicious torture would continue.

  And I hated to hold my breath.

  A firm hand skimmed down my spine and cupped a cheek of my arse. I gasped and again my nipples were roughened against the wall. His touch set me on fire and I longed for more. Moisture pooled between my thighs and the embarrassing aroma of my desire became evident.

  My toes curled against the thick carpet and the same hand that had cupped my bottom moved around to slide between my legs. I whimpered with urgent need, but ever obedient, kept my nose to the wall.

  "It would appear," William said, “you enjoy being on display for me. Is that true, Calliope?"

  Unsure whether or not I could form a coherent sentence, I chose, instead, surprisingly, to remain quiet. He moved his hand in a slow, torturous trail from my damp inner thighs up to my womanly core, his fingers probing my swollen folds. I gasped again, and my sex throbbed, aching for him to sink his fingers deeper. I closed my eyes, trying with every ounce of determination I could muster under the circumstances to maintain my position with my hands behind my head and my nose to the wall.

  The limits of my composure were stretched to razor thinness as his fingers continued to plunder my sex. My inner walls hugged his digits and my hips moved closer to him. His thumb and forefinger pinched the sensitive nub of my desire and I raised up on my tip toes. "You have not answered my question, Calliope." His voice was a husky whisper hovering over my bare shoulder. His heated breath sent shivers skittering over my flesh.

  I swallowed in an effort to moisten my dry throat. "I-I do not remember the question." My mind was in a tumble and my answer would not be pleasing to him, but I knew from experience it was better to admit my error than to attempt to bluff this man, this man who knew me better than I knew myself. This man whose eyes bored into my soul and read the secrets there.

  His flat palm smacked my bottom—once, twice, thrice—while the fingers of his other hand continued their exploration of my wet cunny. "My question," he said, "was whether or not you enjoy being on display for me, but," he drew his fingers through the creamy moisture of my core and pulled his hand from between my thighs, "the answer appears to be obvious."

  He held his fingers in front of my mouth and the pungent scent of my arousal filled my nostrils. "Open," he said and when I complied he put his fingers between my lips. Though my eyes remained closed, I felt him lean down to speak in my ear. "It is the most heavenly nectar, is it not?"

  I opened my eyes and, despite my best intentions to remain in position, turned to stare at him. "How can you say such a thing and expect me to respond?"

  "You seem determined not to answer any of my questions today, Calliope. Is there a reason why you are so reticent to talk? ‘Tis not your usual manner, as you will well agree."

  Another swat landed on my bare derriere. "You are also out of position."

  Placing my nose back on the wall, I did my best to respond. "I-I am distracted, sir." Though every nerve in my body ached for fulfillment, I forged ahead hoping to meet his expectations. "I do enjoy being on display for you." My face flushed hot. "And the taste of my own essence is... arousing." As if to prove my point, more of my juices seeped out onto my thighs.

  William lowered my arms and secured them around his waist then tipped my face up to meet his kiss. With torturous deliberateness, his mouth closed atop mine. After a moment, his tongue slid over the seam of my lips and I opened to him, his tongue stroking across my own in a decadent dance.

  My tender nipples brushed against the soft fabric of his shirt, but still, I wanted more. I needed to feel his flesh against mine. I tugged at the tail of his shirt, releasing it from the waistband of his pants and slid my hands over the taut flesh of his back.

  He ended the kiss and set me away from him, placing my hands at my sides. "There is still the matter of your punishment."

  "But, you kissed me first." I stomped my foot in frustration, whether I was frustrated with him for not satisfying my needs or myself for being so easily sent to the edge of needfulness, I was not sure. Regardless of the source, I was frustrated and not happy about it at all.

  William crossed his arms and looked down at me as though I were an errant child. "Foot stomping? Is that really the proper behavior for a grown woman, a lady, no less?"

  I decided he was the source of my frustration. My hands fisted at my side and I clenched the walls of my womanhood together, hoping—futilely it seemed—to stem the evidence of my arousal.

  "Relax, my little Callie," he said, taking me by the arm. "Getting yourself all worked up will not be helpful when you’re over my knee." He sat upon the edge of the bed and positioned me over his lap.

  The muscles of his thighs, as well as the hardness of his arousal, pressed against my belly and I moaned with longing. I envisioned the hard length of him, firm and ready for me.

  "Oh, you are a naughty one, Callie," William said, capturing some of the moisture from my womanhood and spreading it along the crevice of my rear cheeks. Pausing over the pucker of my bottom hole, he circled his finger and pressed against that oh-so-private opening. "The next time we find ourselves in this situation," he said, prodding my backdoor, "I shall use a plug on you here." He emphasized the final word by pushing past the ring of muscles meant to protect that passage from invasion.

  I bit my lips to prevent the escape of a moan. It was shameful and dirty, but having him touch me there nearly sent me over the edge of climax. His finger went inside and moved in a small circle. My ability to resist vanished and I moaned with longing.

  Just as quickly, he removed his probing digit and commenced my punishment in earnest. Swats rained down on both cheeks of my buttocks. At first, the sting and distraction were welcome. It helped me to focus and not lose myself in my unfulfilled desires. But, after about a half dozen smacks, my backside went from stinging to hot. Fiery pangs of discomfort spread from the curve of my seat to the tops of my thighs, and I wriggled to and fro in an attempt to avoid his hard palm.

  "Hold yourself still, Calliope, or I shall be forced to get the plug now."

  His stern voice was nearly my undoing and I opened my legs, hoping and praying he would take pity on me and touch me there, in my womanly place. Anything to assuage the ache making me wild.

  Anticipation built low in my belly when I felt him move my thighs apart, giving him more access to my swollen folds. Relief washed over me as I anticipated finally having my needs met. A slow tingle of expectancy moved through me and some of the tension left my body.

  Smack!

  The sensitive folds of my sex stung from the impact of William’s hand. Shocked, I turned my face to look at him. "Wh-what are you doing? Why?" I gasped out the words as he continued to punish my cunny. His slaps against my soaking nether region resounded in the room.

  "You must understand I will impose discipline on you in any manner I see fit."

  "Oh," was all I could manage to say after two more quick slaps across both lips of my cunny.

  "Do you trust me to know what you require, Calliope? To take care of all your needs and desires?" His thumb stroked over the hard nub of my sex, sending a dizzying sensation throughout my body.

  With gentle hands he turned me over and held me in his lap. The fabric of his trousers chafed my sensitive bottom and I feared the wetness from my arousal might leave a mark, so I squirmed a bit and tried to hold my thighs together while my brain worked to answer his question.

  "Stop fidgeting," he said, taking my chin in his hand and forcing my eyes to meet his. "This is a cru
cial question, Calliope, and you must give a truthful answer. I will not be angry if you do not agree, but if you do not give a truthful answer, I shall know it and that will not go well for you."

  I looked deep into the dark depths of his eyes and said what I knew to the bedrock of my soul to be the truth. "I trust you completely. I always have. I always will."

  I felt him relax and was surprised to realize that awaiting my reply had been stressful and worrisome for him. It had never occurred to me he was ever anything but utterly in control of himself and his emotions at all times.

  Perhaps I had some effect on him after all.

  He lowered his mouth and covered mine in a kissed filled with longing and promise. I wrapped my arms around his neck, securing his lips against mine and kissed him with an urgency I had never experienced before.

  William

  Despite my years in the army and my exposure to the travesties of war, nothing in my past had prepared me for the sight which greeted me when Lady Ambrosia opened the door to her sitting room.

  The scene before me was shocking in any circumstance. A well-groomed and beautifully dressed woman, her high status evident in everything about her—with one dramatic exception.

  She was seated on the sofa with a brocade throw pillow pressed to her face. And—I looked twice to make sure I was not hallucinating—she was kissing it. The scene became more bizarre when moans of desire emanated from deep in her throat.

  This turn of events had me quite flustered, indeed. I glanced at my hostess, Lady Ambrosia, and she appeared unaffected by this odd occurrence in her home.

  Was this my contact to help me uncover the plot against the Regent?

  It was not necessarily unheard of for women to be part of a covert operation. They could often make connections and move throughout society without raising suspicion.

  However, my current contact was behaving very suspiciously. Again, I glanced at Lady Ambrosia quizzically. She relinquished my arm and gave me a gentle push into the room "She is waiting for you, Colonel St. Clair," Lady Ambrosia said with a self-satisfied smile before turning and closing the door behind her.

  I studied the pillow kisser, who was now writhing in a most unladylike and disturbing manner.

  I felt an unwelcome and unprofessional stirring in my pants. Surely, I had been tricked or poisoned in some way. This was all completely out of character and I wished nothing more than to conclude my business with this well-heeled home decor lover and be on my way.

  General Fitzwilliam was due for an earful.

  Approaching the woman, I began to believe I might know her. The slope of her neck, the rich color of her hair, tickled the corners of my memory of thoughts from long ago, of a girl I had loved and lost.

  But no, that could not be. It was only the power of suggestion since I had been thinking about her moments before.

  I took hold of one corner of the pillow and gently pried it from her grip. Her eyes were closed and her lips continued moving—reminding me of a fish in a bowl. I could only surmise she was in a trance of some sort.

  Or so I hoped. The idea of anyone behaving in such a manner while fully sentient was impossible. Was it not?’

  I tossed the pillow aside and gazed closely at the face of the woman on the settee. My heart clutched in my chest. My instincts had been correct. I was now alone in a room with my heart’s desire—Lady Calliope Winterbourne Knox.

  There was no denying it. In fact, I had known her identity as soon as Lady Ambrosia had opened the door to the room, I simply had not allowed myself to believe it.

  I believed it now.

  Still in her dazed and dream-like state, Calliope grabbed the lapels of my jacket and pulled me to her. Her ever moving lips covered mine and much as I was loathe to take advantage of a woman who was clearly not in her right state of mind, I gave over to the sensation of holding my dear girl close to my heart and pressed my lips to hers.

  ‘Twas though the heavens opened up and showered me with riches beyond measure. Years fell away, my beloved was in my arms, her lips responding to mine with a fervency to match my own.

  My hands stroked over her back, shoulders and arms, reassuring myself it was really and truly my Callie. I cupped her face between my palms, caressing the soft curve of her jaw and throat.

  Eventually, we had to come up for air and I gazed into her eyes, joyful at our reunion and wishing to see her smile and bright eyes as we talked about our grand fortune in being together again.

  To my shock and awe, she remained trancelike, her lips moving yet again in a fish-like imitation. My presence had had no effect on her whatsoever.

  My resounding joy crashed around me.

  I took her shoulders in my hands and gave her a gentle shake. "Calliope," I said. "Wake up. Please, wake up. It is William."

  Her head lolled to the side, her eyes flickered opened and just as quickly they closed again. I took more drastic measures and began patting her hand and then her cheek, still no response. Scouring the room, I found Lady Ambrosia’s ever present, it seemed, brandy. I poured a glass, pinched Calliope’s nose, tipped her head back and dropped the liquor down her throat.

  She sputtered and coughed, but then I saw the elixir work its magic as the color returned to her cheeks and her eyes began to focus. She looked at me, blinked a few times, and suddenly sat up straight.

  "William!" she said, and a joyful smile broke out across her face. She stood and hugged me to her, then as quickly, she set me away from her.

  "You must leave," she said, turning away from me. "Please, you must go."

  "What are you saying, Calliope? I only just arrived. Are you not pleased to see me?"

  She spun around, grabbed both my hands in hers and gazed into my face earnestly. "Oh, I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life," she said.

  "And yet you wish to send me away? I do not understand."

  "My new husband. I am about to meet my new husband. He will be here any moment and it will not go well if he sees the two of us together."

  Surely, she had been drugged and the effects lingered. I sat next to her on the sofa, clasping both hands in my own. "Please, Callie, what you say makes no sense to me."

  She sighed deeply, squeezed my hands and looked at me with great sadness in her eyes. "I am promised to another, William. It seems we are destined to be star crossed in love. I am so very sorry."

  "Who? Who is this man who is to be your husband? Do you love him? Does he make you happy?"

  A pink flush bloomed on her cheeks and she avoided looking at me. "I-I do not know his name. I only know he has been selected for me by Lady Ambrosia and I am to meet him here this evening."

  "You have made him no promises?"

  "No, I have not."

  "In fact, you have never seen him and do not know his name, is that right?"

  "Yes, but…"

  "There will be no buts about it, Calliope. You are mine and no other man shall have you. Can you deny you have feelings for me, that you have longed for me over the years, the way I have for you?"

  Tears formed on the corners of her eyes. "No," she whispered, "I cannot deny it. Please, do not misunderstand. I loved Thomas, he was a good man and a good husband. But—and I am ashamed to admit this, even now that he has passed on—I always wondered, in the back of my mind, what might have happened if we had not quarreled…" Her voice drifted off.

  I stood and hauled her up from the sofa and into my arms. "We shall wonder no longer. I refuse to allow you to marry anyone but me. I have waited for you for years. My penance has been paid and I shall have you. No man shall stop me."

  "But—" Calliope’s sentence was interrupted by Lady Ambrosia entering the room. Callie stepped away from me as though she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  Lady Ambrosia stood in front of us. Her demeanor was a mixture of consternation and amusement. "It would appear I may not have made matters as clear to the two of you as they were in my mind," she said. "Lady Knox, the man who I
have selected as your new husband is William." She turned to me. "Colonel St. Clair, I apologize if my meaning and intentions were unclear. I had assumed when you saw the sign on my door indicating my profession as a matchmaker, you would understand my purposes. Ah well, that’s what happens when we make assumptions. Let that be a lesson to us all."

  Callie gaped at Lady Ambrosia. "William is a client of yours? He was looking for a bride?"

  "No, my dear," Lady Ambrosia said, "my first encounter with him was just moments ago when he arrived at my home. I honestly was not certain he would accept my invitation, but as you can see, he did. And all the better for the two of you that he did."

  Now, it was my turn to gape. "How did you know where to find me? Or that I would even be in London at all?"

  "Ah," she said with a sly smile, "a matchmaker never gives away her secrets."

  Callie

  William grabbed my hand and drug me through the clutter of Lady Ambrosia’s home. Along the way I banged my shin into two tables and toppled over a vase that crashed to the floor, but William was singularly focused on quitting the house and nothing would stop him. By the time we regained the sidewalk I was winded and panting.

  Shoving two fingers in his mouth, William let loose a piercing whistle which brought his carriage rushing ‘round the corner to park in front of us. Before the footmen could reach the door to the carriage, William had opened it and pushed me inside. I had the distinct impression of being kidnapped, though I dared not protest. In part because I was unable to gather enough air into my lungs to speak, and also because the look on William’s face showed there would be no persuading him from his task. What that task was, I had no clear idea.

  I heard him shout directions to the driver before he joined me in the compartment of the carriage. He no more than closed the door before we took off at an alarming speed.

  "William," I said as soon as I was able. "What are you about? ‘Tis madness."