“After all, my lord, although you are not an old man, you’re no longer a stripling.” His solicitor had coughed in a delicate manner. “We need to ensure Kelmarsh will be in good hands for many years.”
Felix had laughed. “Good grief. I’m not in my dotage either, but I will give it great thought.”
So, do I do as it has been suggested and offer for Jane Nicholby?
An image of a younger, less attainable lady flashed through his mind, and he shook his head in anger. Jane would be perfect. She had been married, and he knew she would only re-marry for security, not love. It was well known Jane loved her late husband dearly and had no interest in replacing him. Was that what he wanted?
No, not really, but can I really have what I want? Jane and I would understand each other.
Or would they? It was a knotty problem he needed to spend time thinking about. Jane would do her duty and give him, if physically possible, his heir and spare, but what about satisfaction? What about... He wrenched his thoughts away from his desires. No more. Not at that moment.
First he had the even knottier problem of how to keep his cock under control whenever a certain young lady, whom he spent entirely too much time thinking about, was in the vicinity. It wouldn’t be easy. His prick seemed to have a will of its own under those circumstances. He needed a clear head, and a quiescent rod to decide what should happen. Sense not senses needed to prevail.
This evening must not be for nothing. It is my only chance to see...well, just to see.
As he reached the head of the staircase, Felix hesitated. His host and he became great friends as scrubby schoolboys in their first days at Eton. They’d fought and stuck up for each other through thick and thin, and had remained just so ever since. It was unfortunate, Felix thought, that he lusted after his host’s daughter.
Even if she is an adult, and ripe to be wedded, I worry. Am I too old and worldly wise for her? Do I continue on my path? Or do I go to Jane?
Felix straightened his shoulders, annoyed at the sense of loss that filled him at the second of his thoughts. He moved to put his foot on the tread of the first step when a noise behind made him turn.
The bag over his head took him by surprise. Before he had time to react his arms were bound to his side, and then someone kicked his feet from under him. In his soft house shoes he was powerless to kick out and injure. He did his best to relax to cushion his fall. The last thought he had was he hoped to hell he didn’t topple down the stairs.
He didn’t. Before he hit the floor, strong arms held him horizontal, something rough—rope he surmised—was wrapped around his ankles. How he wished he had his top boots on, it would have been so much harder for him to be secured. Resigned for the moment, he assumed he was carried along the corridor. Even though he knew the house as well as his own, unsighted, and with his hearing muted, he was hard pressed to tell just where they were.
Ever the fatalist, he mentally shrugged and awaited his fate, whatever it might be. It seemed someone was having a laugh at his expense.
Kidnap? Unlikely in this house. Mistaken identity? Also unlikely. Her
? He thought of the tormentor of his dreams
. Surely not. She is not capable of executing such a thing.
Several minutes later he wasn’t quite so insouciant about everything. He was still being carried. They had, as far as he could tell under the circumstances, descended a long flight of stairs and ascended a shorter one, entered and also exited several rooms. Sometimes the footsteps of whoever carried him sounded heavy and hollow, at other times he heard nothing at all. Without reverberations, he assumed that sometimes they moved over carpeted floor and others bare boards. It was no help. His host’s house was old and had a mish mash of floors and coverings in no particular order. They could be going around in circles for all he knew.
His captor, he decided that was the best name applicable, halted and through the fusty material that enveloped him, Felix heard several faint door hinge squeaks and dull thuds. The dust and fibers over his face made breathing ever more difficult, and his mouth was dry.
If I’m not released soon, I won’t have to worry about my knotty problems. I’ll be deceased and Soutar can deal with the lot of them.
That morbid thought didn’t sit well with him. Instead he began to get annoyed. Whatever was happening had been going on far too long, and it was no longer a joke. As his captor paused once more Felix kicked out. The curse he heard was loud enough to cut through his covering like a knife through butter, and it was good old-fashioned Anglo-Saxon. The jarring went up his leg, travelled through his body, and made his teeth rattle.
“Give over, you’ll get hurt.”
Felix wondered if he recognized the voice, and decided he didn’t care. If it was who he thought it was, he deserved the kick for his roughness. If it wasn’t, he deserved the kick anyway. He struck out again and to his delight his bound feet connected with a body. He could only hope he’d got him in the bollocks.
“I warned you.” The thump to his head was worthy of any devotee of Jackson’s Boxing salon.
Bugger, that wasn’t in the plan.
It was Felix’s last thought before he saw stars and then nothing else.
Chapter Four
“Good grief how hard did you hit him?” Miranda glared at Ashley, who grinned unrepentantly. She looked down at Felix snoring gently on the velvet-covered bed next to them. At least, Miranda hoped that was all he did. Ashley assured her Felix would suffer no lasting damage and perforce she had to trust him. However, his pallor and unnatural stillness worried her.
“He was about to ensure I sired no more children, and Adriana assures me she wants a large family. He’ll come round properly in a few minutes and I need to be gone. You’re on your own now, except for Molly and Towse who are on the end of the bell rope. You have until the morning before your father returns here, but you need to be at Addersley to greet him over breakfast. I must get back before he wonders why I asked him to visit me so urgently. He may never forgive me.” Ashley didn’t meet her eyes.
Oh lud, I never thought of that. Truly, trying to seduce a man is so difficult, it’s no wonder young ladies don’t bother.
“What excuse did you give?”
“Concern over the flooding in the middle meadow.” Ashley picked up his riding crop and walked toward the door. “If it rains at full moon, it is likely to return, and then not only the meadow but the road will be under three feet of water. We can’t afford to lose the crop, or the road surface. So it is a concern, just not one I’d have dealt with so unexpectedly. Now, if you’re sure this is what you want, I’ll be off.”
Miranda nodded. “I’ve spoken about it to Adriana and Molly, and I’ve promised to do nothing more than speak to him.” She crossed her fingers. “Uncle Ash, why did you help me?”
Ashley narrowed his eyes, but in the end nodded. “You remind me of my wife when she is up to mischief.” He paused. “No, that is not why. Because I think you deserve the chance, and also because I see the way Felix looks at you when he thinks no one else is looking. It may still not go as you want it, but you will have had the chance to talk to him, and plead your case. He may not realize it, but you are perfect for him. The problem is whether Felix wants perfection or not.” He gave her an uncle-like brush of his lips over her cheek, and left the room.
And that, Miranda realized, was the crux of the matter. Whether she had committed an irrevocable faux pas and Felix would never forgive her.
Ah, well at least he will have a reason to ignore me.
She glanced over to where he lay unmoving on the bed. It had taken a lot of persuasion to make Ashley place him there and not on the settee in her lounge. She’d argued that a tall man such as Felix would wake up feeling a lot worse than necessary if he’d been allowed to stretch out on a settee too small for him. It wasn’t even a day bed, and his legs from the knees down would dangle at an awkward angle. At least now, there was a chance only Felix’s head would ache when he woke up.
When. Surely he should be stirring by now?
As if on cue, Felix moved and muttered. The words were
jumbled and too low for her to make out. Miranda picked up the glass jug full of water and poured some liquid into a glass. She didn’t think he’d take kindly to smelling salts under his nose, and brandy was perhaps not the best thing with a head that would already be thick.
Even in his disheveled state, Miranda’s body tightened as she gazed at him. His pantaloons molded the contours of his cock and balls in a loving caress, and his shirt hugged his torso to define his muscles there. Ashley had helped her divest Felix of his coat, and cravat, so she was able to admire his body closely.
If only she could divest him of more than those two articles of clothing. However, Miranda was determined not to do anything else underhand.
Well, not yet anyway. Except...
She set the glass on the bedside cabinet, and took several strips of ribbon from inside a drawer. With one eye on the door—Ashley would be less than happy with the next part of her plan, and may well put a stop to it if he knew—Miranda fastened Felix’s wrists to the bedhead. He rolled to one side and tried to sit up. Before he was fully aware of his situation. Miranda managed to fasten his ankles in a similar manner.
Spread out as he now was, his clothes tightened even more over his body, and her mouth went dry.
She
needed a drink, not him. Her juices gathered at the entrance to her channel, and her nipples pressed against the flimsy muslin of her gown. She’d dispensed with a chemise as per Molly and Adriana’s suggestions, and wore very little. Miranda might have promised only to talk to Felix, but there were ways of holding his attention as she did so. She was prepared to use every one of them.
A groan brought her attention back to him.
“What the—” Felix lifted his head and pulled on his bindings. “Oh, my bloody head.” He opened one eye and squinted at her. “Miranda? What the hell is this all about?”
She swallowed. It was now or never. “Would you like some water?”
“What I would like is an explanation.” He glared at her. His tone was not exactly hostile, but it had no hints of a favorable reaction to her explanation. If she could formulate one...
“You will never listen to me. You see me as a child.”
“Well, if you pull a stunt like this, why ever would I see you any different?” His eyes darkened to almost black, and his brow furrowed. “Why am I tied to the bed?”
“So you will listen to me, and so you can’t just leave. If you see it as childish, that is of course your prerogative.” She grinned and put her hand behind his head to lift it slightly, and put the glass to his lips. “But I believe it to be in our best interests that you listen. Drink some water.”
After a long brooding look at her, Felix nodded, and drank greedily. “Thank you. You were saying?”
Miranda set down the glass and placed a pillow under his head. He moved his eyes to follow her every gesture. She stood to one side of the bed, and noticed with satisfaction when those deep eyes widened as they took in her state of dress. Her nipples once more threatened to poke holes in the muslin that covered them.
“I see it as arousing. The way I have you. Although, truth be told, I would rather be in the position you are, and know you were going to...” She paused and ran her fingers around her lips. His eyes narrowed and the pulse in his neck jumped. “Well, I was going to say have your wicked way with me, but wicked? Is making your lady want to scream and beg for more wicked?”
He opened his mouth as if to speak, and then closed it. Miranda hurried on.
“You see, Felix, ladies gossip. I know so much happens that is rarely admitted to openly. And it intrigues me. I want to experience some of those things. However, I’m greedy. I want you to be my tutor. No one else. And added to that, I want to know it is only me you...attend to, shall I say? You keep telling me I’m too young for you? Really? Or are you scared? Scared you won’t be man enough for me?”
She had never known just what the words “a pregnant silence” meant before then. His eyes now widened and something unknown to her flashed in their depths.
“Oh, Miranda, I will be more than enough for you, my dear.” The velvet tones poured over her, and surrounded her with notes of heat and intention. She had never felt so taken in thrall by a voice before. Each word, each nuance, enveloped her and encouraged her body to tingle. His smile was one-hundred-percent sex. Never before had she been the recipient of that expression and it was the most juice-inducing look ever.
“The thorny question is...” Felix paused, and one side of his mouth quirked up in what she thought of as delicious. “Are you woman enough to cope?”
Trust him to turn the tables.
It was enough to rile her, and make her unwary. “Well, shall we see?”
Oh so slowly, Miranda took hold of the slender ribbons that crisscrossed her bosom. With a smile that many of her friends would balk at and demand she thought about her actions, Miranda let her fingers trail over the smooth swell of her breasts. “I don’t think there is any fear of that, my lord. You see, I have waited long to talk to you. Yes, just talk. Well.” Miranda tilted her head to one side and then ran her finger–the one that had so recently touched her breast—around her lips. “Of course I am open to anything you offer. However, I have pledged my oath that I personally will only engage you in conversation unless you choose otherwise.”
He shook his wrists and tugged on his bindings. “How can I have a say in the matter? You have me bound and it seems a captive audience. Therefore I have to bow to your pleasure.”
He grinned and her quim went into strong paroxysms of—she decided—eager pleasure. With that one look her juices gathered and she feared her legs would be coated with her essence.
“Which is?” he asked her. “Perhaps we need to discuss just what you want to impart.”
She could only agree. Now she had Felix as her captive audience it was all up to her. “Then as my nanny oft said to me, ‘Cuddle in and listen carefully.’”