Desired by a Lord (Regency Unlaced 5) (7 page)

Emily was unsure exactly how to describe the sensations now churning inside. Except to know they felt a little like those she had discovered last night, when she first stroked the swollen and erect nubbin between her legs. Heat. Pleasure. A yearning, aching pleasure that had grown deeper and stronger until it finally exploded deep within her, leaving her gasping and weak.

How could having Xander Whitney threatening to spank her possibly fill her with that same aching heat?

How could that be?

Spanking someone was a physical chastisement and not to be tolerated as an adult, under any circumstances.

Wasn’t it…?

Xander had regretted his outburst as soon as he had made it, and had intended to apologize immediately. Until he saw the expressions flitting across Emily’s face.

Obvious shock.

Lessening to surprise.

Then deep concentration.

Followed by a dawning curiosity.

And finally a heated flush appeared on her cheeks, accompanied by a slight hitch in her breathing.

All leading Xander to the conclusion Emily was aroused by the notion of being spanked.

As aroused as he now was, his cock a hard throb, at the thought of laying his hands upon her bare bottom.

Xander’s sexual encounters in the past had always been vigorous and satisfying for both himself and the lady involved. He had always ensured that. But he had never contemplated spanking the bottom of any of those ladies, with the idea of giving her pleasure or anything else. Emily was bringing out a sensual side of him he had hitherto been unaware of.

Her response, and his own, to the suggestion of her being spanked also told him he might have been somewhat remiss in those other sexual relations.

She drew in a shaky breath. “Perhaps if, one evening, you were to actually allow me to finish eating my dinner in peace, I would not be so ugly and thin.”

Xander frowned his frustration. “I never once said you were ugly or thin.”

“Your comment, ‘pale and slender,’ implied it.”

God save him from prickly women. “Pale implies a lack of color, not ugliness. Slender,
not
thin, is how all women of the
ton
would wish to appear.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.” He shook his head. “And by all means, let us finish eating our dinner. Except the soup is now cold and inedible. I will ring for Clarke to bring the next course.” He followed his words with action.

Emily felt rather foolish. It was knowing her body’s reaction to the threatened spanking that had made her behave so defensively. Whitney could certainly not have intended to arouse her with such a threat. “I apologize once again for overreacting.” She kept her head down, eyes on the soup that had indeed cooled beyond eating during their conversation. “In my defense, I did suggest it might be better if I dined with the rest of the servants.”

“You are not a servant, damn it— Ah, Clarke.” He turned to the butler as the other man quietly entered the room. “Please assure Cook there is nothing wrong with her soup. Only that we were…carried away in conversation and forgot to eat it.” Bearing in mind what Emily had said, Xander made sure his tone was less abrasive than usual.

Clarke’s surprise, quickly masked, would seem to suggest there might be some truth in Emily’s earlier conclusions regarding that situation.

“Certainly, my lord.” The elderly man removed the bowls before disappearing to the kitchen.

Whitney watched the butler leave, still wondering if he was indeed in part responsible for the strained relationship he had with his butler. Clarke had been at Whitney Park all of Xander’s life, and he seemed to remember the other man helping him out of several scrapes when Xander was a boy. Xander had not even spoken to Clarke again after the death of his mother, the argument with his father, and his abrupt departure from Whitney Park. Yes, perhaps at some time in the near future, he and Clarke needed to have a conversation and possibly clear the air between them.

Xander dismissed the subject as he turned to Emily. “You are never to think of yourself as a servant again.”

“But—”

“Do you honestly think I would have consigned your husband, if he were still alive and the one now working on the Whitney Library, to eat with the servants?”

“You might have wished you had done so before too many days had passed. Edmund could be very dry in his conversation,” she added ruefully.

Unless Xander was mistaken, there was definitely an attempt on Emily’s part to hide a smile. A teasing glitter in her eyes. Her remark also told him that her husband had not only been much older than her, but also boring. Which was one accusation she could never level at any of their own conversations. Leading Xander to a conclusion of his own.

For the first time in many months, I am not bored.

Since her arrival, Emily had caused him to feel anger, frustration, and irritation with her stubborn determination to misunderstand everything he said.

She also amused and entertained him.

As well as impressed him just now, with her unique insights into a situation. Such as the one that existed with Clarke.

And she aroused him. Without guile or intent, Emily had made Xander’s cock hard and aching almost from the moment of her arrival.

As he aroused her?

Xander believed that to be the case.

Her response to his kisses yesterday, although shy, had been unmistakable.

As had her arousal a few minutes ago at his suggestion of spanking her.

Perhaps that was a sexual pleasure they might explore in more detail together.

Once they had finished their dinner…

Chapter 7

It is dark enough outside this evening for me to hide in the shadows of the house, allowing me to observe through the dining room window but remain unseen myself.

To see that the trollop dines with Lord Whitney this evening, as if she were a guest rather than in his employ.

To watch how familiarly she converses with him.

The appreciation in Lord Whitney’s eyes for whatever it was she was saying to him.

Her blushes and glances beneath her lashes as he makes his replies.

I have observed her having this same effect on the greengrocer, the doctor, the baker, and the squire. Even I have not been allowed to escape her wicked wiles.

But she is surely aiming too high with a man like Lord Whitney? An arrogant, aristocratic gentleman few would dare to cross.

Few
men
would dare to cross. It is clear from the way he watches Emily that he is already attracted to her.

Is it too soon, or will she spread her legs for him tonight, I wonder?

Or perhaps she will choose to further incite Whitney’s lust by keeping him at arm’s length for just a little longer? She may be a bitch in heat, but she is also siren enough to know that if she capitulates too soon, there will be nothing to gain and everything to lose.

Whether she intends to share Whitney’s bed tonight or another night, the witch cannot be allowed to ensnare yet another man in her supposed innocence and vulnerability. To lure Whitney into her spider’s web, with those huge green eyes that appear so guileless but hide a multitude of sins.

Her mother’s death.

Her father’s suicide.

Her husband’s demise mere months ago.

Someone must ensure she suffers for her sins of pride, lust, and greed.

And someone must protect Whitney from falling prey to those same sins.

That someone will be me.

Chapter 8

“Emily…?”

She gave herself a mental shake as she realized she had allowed her thoughts to drift in the middle of Whitney speaking to her.

Not that Whitney was in the least boring. He was far too intensely male to ever be that. Nor was he a gentleman she, or anyone else, would ever be able to overlook or ignore. Not only because of his dashing good looks and confident manner: his conversation, as they ate the rest of their dinner, had been both interesting and amusing, as he told her some of the funnier stories of Society. No doubt with the intention of putting Emily at ease.

He might have succeeded too, if not for the feeling she’d had all evening, and could not seem to shake, that she was being watched. That she and Whitney both were being watched.

Perhaps she had been wrong earlier and one or more of Whitney’s servants did bear him ill feelings? To the extent they
spied
upon him, and eavesdropped on his conversation?

Whatever or whoever was responsible for Emily’s feelings of discomfort during dinner—the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck stood on end, and cold shivers ran up and down the length of her spine—that feeling of being watched had dissipated only once they left the dining room and retired to Whitney’s study.

“Thank you.” She accepted the glass of brandy Clarke handed to her. She and Whitney were now seated opposite each other in the two armchairs placed either side of the warming fire, the curtains drawn against the night outside.

“Have you seen the library yet?” Whitney prompted once he had dismissed Clarke for the night.

Emily shot Whitney a mischievous smile. “I would not dare to presume to venture inside until I am given permission.”

“I am fast coming to appreciate there is little you would not presume or dare to do if you have a mind to do it,” he drawled dryly.

Her eyes widened. “I have no idea how you might have come by such a disagreeable opinion of me.”

“It was not meant as a criticism. I admire your determination and fortitude.”

“You do?”

“I do,” Xander confirmed, watching Emily through narrowed lids as he reclined back in his chair. Following a somewhat rocky start to the evening, he now felt far too mellow from their companionable dinner together, accompanied by several glasses of fine wine, to raise the energy to argue with Emily again tonight.

Arguing
with her was the last thing on his mind.

Making love to her being the first.

“Come over here,” he invited huskily.

She blinked those long lashes several times before answering him. “I am perfectly comfortable where I am, thank you.”

He shook his head. “Your shoulders and back are tense. Come over here, sit on the floor between my legs, and I will massage them for you.”

Emily’s mouth became dry at Whitney’s outrageous suggestion. At the thought of being held captive between his thighs and having those long elegant hands touching her shoulders and down the length of her spine.

They seemed so very alone in here together, the rest of the house completely silent apart from the usual creaks and noises of any house.

There was no denying she was still a little tense from those feelings she’d had of being watched during dinner, but that was no reason for her to forget all social etiquette and
sit between Whitney’s parted thighs
. It would be most improper. Scandalously so.

Then why was it also wickedly tempting?

Perhaps she had become wicked since her arrival at Whitney Park. Her behavior last night, touching and caressing herself until she trembled and quaked in the ecstasy of release, would certainly seem to indicate as much.

An ecstasy of pleasure Emily had been unable to put from her mind all day.

And to long for the time she could be alone in her bedchamber later tonight, so that she might see if she could stroke and caress her body to ecstasy again.

How much more pleasurable would it be to have Whitney’s hands and fingers giving her that same pleasure?

Her nipples tingled, engorging to hard and sensitive peaks, a moist heat flooding between her thighs, from only imagining it.

“As you will not come to me, I will come to you.”

“No…” Emily could only protest weakly as she watched Whitney place his brandy glass on the table beside him before standing.

“Yes.” He easily held her mesmerized gaze as he removed his jacket and placed it on the arm of his chair before crossing the room to stand behind her chair. “Sit forward a little. Good,” he murmured his approval as she slowly leaned forward. “Relax,” he instructed sternly.

Emily had tensed at the first touch of his hands against the exposed flesh at her nape, and it now took every effort of will to force that stiffness from her shoulders beneath the warmth of Whitney’s palms.

She let out a groan, neck arching, as his fingers began to knead and press into the tightness at her nape. It felt…wonderful. Whitney’s hands were so warm, and those long and elegant fingers dug into her tensed flesh with just the right amount of pressure; a fine line between pleasure and pain.

“The high neckline of your gown is impeding my progress.”

Emily let out a squeak of protest as Whitney unfastened the half-dozen buttons running the length of her gown, from her nape to her bottom. As she had no maid to assist her with dressing, Emily had made all her gowns in such a way as to enable her to fasten and unfasten the buttons herself.

Another pleasurable groan passed her lips as she once again felt Whitney’s fingers against the heat of her bared skin. Lower this time, the pressure now being exerted between her exposed shoulder blades.

Xander felt like letting out a groan himself, his cock having hardened painfully at the low and breathy sounds of Emily’s sighs and moans of pleasure. Her skin felt soft as velvet beneath the hard caress of his fingers, silky smooth and yielding above her chemise.

The vulnerability of her nape was mere inches away, a temptation Xander could no longer resist as he lowered his head to breathe in her perfume: lemons, flowers, and… His already hard cock began to throb in response to the womanly aroma of Emily’s arousal.

“What are you…” Emily broke off with a soft gasp as Xander pressed soft lips against the warmth of her exposed flesh.

Something he had been wanting to do for hours.

Looking at Emily aroused him.

Conversing with Emily aroused him.

Arguing with Emily aroused him.