“I make you two promises, Alicia. The first is that I shall
not take your maidenhead. Only one man may do so, and that
is your husband. The second is that tonight you will
experience more pleasure than you’ve ever imagined, thanks
to me. If the Earl were here tonight, you’d receive no
gentle caresses, no stroking such as I intend to give you.
Your nipples would be left untouched, save for a rough tweak
or two. Whereas I intend to savor their sweetness and watch
them stand to attention like pink sentinels of your desire.”
Pinned as if I were a helpless butterfly, I lost myself in
the soothing cadence of his speech. I became aware of the
heat and strength of his body, and an unfamiliar tingling in
my belly.
“You may think you prefer the Earl, but you’d regret it
deeply. Your deflowering would be painful rather than
pleasurable. Harsh rather than sweet. Such an event in a
young girl’s life should bring tears of joy along with the
tears of pain. That is what I offer, and the Earl, cognizant
of your best interests as well as his own, has allowed me to
provide this service. Do you understand?”
I nodded, and when he didn’t respond, whispered, “Yes.”
“Then come. Rise now.”
The weight lifted off me and he helped me to my feet. When I
stood facing him, I saw a look such as I’d never seen on his
jaded face before. He looked almost tender. Slowly, gently,
he traced the skin along the edge of my loosened stays. I
felt a prickling in the tips of my breasts. When I looked
down at myself, my nipples were just as he said, pink and
standing up under the layers of undergarments. He hooked his
finger in the busk between my breasts. My breath caught.
“I won’t proceed further unless I have your full consent.
Despite my reputation, I am not in the habit of forcing my
attentions on unwilling girls. I must know that you accept
what I’m offering you, fully and completely.”
His black gaze seared into me, as if he could see all the
hidden corners of my soul. And perhaps he could, because God
help me, I wanted the things he’d promised, and more. I
wanted to lie down on the bed and roll myself in the
bedclothes, or strip off my chemise and run outside under
the stars. I didn’t fully understand what was happening to
me. My body felt heavy and yet light at the same time.
“I do,” I whispered. “I accept.”
His eyes glittered in the candlelight. I felt dizzy. For a
moment, I was back in the barn at home, caught with a
goatherd’s hand hovering over my breast. I’d looked up in
alarm at the sound of soft laughter. The sight of the
Marquis’ delighted, mocking smile had turned me to stone.
There had been another feeling as well, a charge in the air
that had made my skin prickle.
I felt it again as his eyes deliberately consumed my body,
top to toe. Under my eyelashes, I performed an inspection of
my own. The Marquis was not a bad-looking man, slender of
build, perhaps a head taller than myself. As always, he was
dressed in the height of fashion, with an embroidered cream
waistcoat and a splendid coat of dark blue superfine that
fit him to perfection. He always appeared to be mocking the
world around him, but over the years I had on occasion seen
him perform small kindnesses that surprised me.
“There has always been a special feeling between us, has
there not?” As he spoke, he deftly removed my stays until I
stood in nothing more than my chemise. I shivered at his
nearness. Not for the first time, I thought what a powerful
man he was, not in physique but in presence…a powerful man
inclined to darkness.
He picked up a candle and slowly walked around me, shining
its light on my body. The warmth from the candle paled in
comparison to the penetrating weight of his gaze. I fixed my
eyes on the pretty dressing table on the far side of the
room. I counted five silver-backed brushes and considered
attempting to count the individual bristles to distract
myself from the strange feelings stealing over me.
A gentle touch on my posterior made me start. His hand
cupped my bottom and warmth flooded my being. How could such
a simple touch create such an uproar within me? With a firm
hand and wandering fingers, he stroked my flesh. I felt the
back of my chemise inch up my legs. The feel of his
fingertips roaming across the backs of my thighs was so
exquisite, I closed my eyes so the pleasure would continue.
“Ah no, my dear, you are not allowed to close your eyes. I
want you to fully comprehend that it is I, the dreaded
Marquis de Beaumont, who is bringing you this enjoyment.
Whose hands are now stroking your tender buttocks?”
Tendrils of fire seemed to spread across my bottom as he
quickened his touch. “Yours,” I gasped.
“And who intends to remove this interfering chemise from
your body?”
My throat became suddenly parched. If he removed my chemise,
I would be naked before the most notorious rake in England.
“You,” I whispered. “But, please…”
“Yes?” His fingers danced up the curve of my spine and my
belly seemed to quiver in response. Cool air caressed my
back as he drew up the chemise. “Ah, so lovely. I’ve waited
a very long time for this moment.”
I clutched the front of it to my chest. My head was such a
confusing swarm of thoughts, I didn’t know what I wanted to
say. Please continue. Stop this instant. The two
opposite impulses battled in my mind. “Why me?” I managed.
“Why a long time?”
“Why you?” My question did not make him pause in his
intrusions on my body. Every inch of exposed skin drew a
caress or a pat from his relentless, curious, knowing hands.
Every touch sent a cascade of shivers across my flesh. “I’m
sure you don’t remember, but you first caught my eye as a
girl dashing after your brothers. You ran directly into me,
like a Spanish bull into a cape. I have been accustomed to
find myself a figure of fright for young girls. But you
seemed to have no fear of me. I plucked you off the ground
and held you high. You looked back at me with those frank
eyes of yours, whose color I find no words for, somewhere in
the mysterious realm between gray and blue, and you said,
quite simply, “You were directly in my path. You will please
to put me down now.” And so I did, and watched, bemused, as
you raced away to join your brothers. At that moment I knew
you were an unusual girl.”
By this time he was in front of me, loosing my hands from
their grip on my chemise. I looked up at him and found
myself surprised by a hint of softness in his usually sharp
eyes.
“This chemise,” he told me softly, “can hide nothing from
me. I know your soul, ma chérie, perhaps better than
you do yourself. You desire things you cannot name. You
sense it in the springtime air, the moonlight over a stream,
the scent of lilacs in the sunshine. The world promises you
something just beyond your senses, something you cannot
grasp, simply because you don’t yet know how. I will show
you how, my dear.”