

My Lady Compelled

By Shirl Anders

Copyright © 2000 by Shirl Anders

Published by Allure Books, published at Smashwords

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues in this book are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

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Table of Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty One

Twenty Two

Excerpt My Lady Enslaved

Excerpt Vampire Lords of Blacknall Trinity

]Chapter One

Drummond Penhurst, Duke of Kittridge, relaxed in the lavishly furnished gaming salon of his country manor as he regarded the five gentlemen seated around the table. The game was Monte and these five men, chiefly including himself, comprised one of England's most successful spying circuits in the last forty years. The fact that he had been the administrator of this notable spying venture brought him satisfaction. The fact that it no longer existed with Napoleon's demise, brought him feelings of restlessness that he had seldom before encountered.

Their illustrious code name had been Hellagon. Regardless, the clandestine people in the offices at Thirteen Whipple Street had called them surreptitiously as the Queen's Archangels. The pretentious naming had adhered and until the last throes of Napoleon's demise, one needed only mention the Archangels on French soil to obtain a pale and fearful reaction. Yes, Drummond considered pragmatically, he had done his job with skill and even exceedingly artful at times, managing over the years to deliver them through alive. Barely.

His gaze flicked casually to Harrison, the reclusive Earl of Ravenscar and the only man present who was near to his own middle age. Together, he and Harrison had operated in the macabre world of espionage for more than eight years. His gaze followed the movement of Harrison's leather gloved hands, dealing the next round. Harrison's hands were perpetually gloved now, hiding the acid burns from their last spying operation gone awry, just as Harrison's voice was now a permanent rasp from those same acid fumes.

_Damnation_ , Drummond cursed silently. He had nearly lost Harrison in that last fateful debacle. He still questioned seriously who had betrayed their team. Who was it that had nearly cost Harrison his life and had cost Radford the Duke of Sutherlin one eye and Brynmore, Baron of Duneagan the hearing in one ear?

He felt every day since that time that he had better find the traitor before Harrison did. Harrison was set for his own style of dark vengeance and it was nearly as if Harrison knew who the betrayer was. Nevertheless, he reflected, it was unlike Harrison not to confide in him if he did indeed know. And all of this coming to pass well over a year before, so now it seemed to him like so much muddied water beneath the proverbial bridge.

What in the hell, he wondered, for the hundredth time since his return to England, did a master spy do with his life after the intrigue of espionage was no longer viable because of peace time? It appeared to him that he had arranged his life a bit too well around his spying efforts. His one and only wife had passed away several years before he had taken up the cause of spying, but not before she had given him the prerequisite heir and one daughter.

His son, Samuel, was a fine man and everything but the Duke of Kittridge in name. Samuel administered all the sundry ducal concerns with a firm hand and intelligent mind, having done so for several years now. His daughter, Tabitha, was married with a child of her own and a life completely established well without his presence. Neither of them had need of a slightly jaded, retired spy gumming up their well-ordered lives. So what did men of his age and accomplishments do, finding themselves very well unneeded at all turns and certainly not interested in the frippery of London's 'ton'.

_Hmm_ , he mulled as he tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair, while he surveyed the men around him once again. It was quite clear that the gentlemen surrounding him also needed some type of settling. Not that he would consider, especially for the younger men, the possibility of foisting a wife on each of them. However, with the others injuries, there was also Saxonhurst, Marquess of Hartely's hand lost to cannon fire and Wyndham, Earl of Hawkenge's bad leg caught by shrapnel at Waterloo.

So he pondered soberly that all of his companions, well including himself, had definite needs of settling, perhaps there was a purpose yet. He would have to consider it. However, just then Harrison raised the ante and he turned his ear to the waggish conversation around him.

"I would favor a woman with the attributes of a courtesan for my wife, gentlemen, if you must know," Wyndham replied, somewhat defensive, to Radford's question.

Wyndham had gone to war, an idealistic young man and returned world-weary, but tightly honed, Drummond thought, as he watched the gilded-haired man propping his injured leg up on the brocade stool provided by his chair. Perhaps they all had, Drummond mused.

"You clearly have no one to answer to except yourself, Wyndham," Radford said, dropping some of his sardonic veneer that went with his piratical, black satin eye patch. "What with your brother and his wife killed by way of that carriage accident, while we were all dancing the minuet of Napoleon's demise." Radford turned his one startling light blue eye balefully on Wyndham. "I do imagine that you are required to produce an heir for your title, and what a deliciously wicked idea ... to take a whore for a wife."

"I surely understand the man's need to be carrying on his family line by marrying," Brynmore interrupted. "In your position you canna do no less," he finished with a firm tug of the red and black tartan, tossed over his shoulder as if to emphasize family pride. No one in the group had more familial pride than the Scottish, Laird Duneagan, especially after the loss of nearly all the Duneagan's clan at Waterloo.

Radford sharply turned his vivid blue eye over the table at the Scottish baron, then resumed his interrupted speech. "And, I must admit that I would rather have an intelligent tart in my bed for the next thirty years, if I were to choose wisely."

"It should be possible to find," Harrison rasped, sweeping the group with his brooding, black-eyed gaze. "Somewhere among all of the prissy and frigid daughters of our peers. There has to be a few worth training to a man's needs. The crux of the matter is not to mount the mare while searching."

"No cock in the pussy," Drummond mused.

"Exactly," Harrison replied in his raspy voice. "Last card," he added to those around the table in general.

"Really," Saxonhurst chuckled sadly. "Harrison, you are too ruthless at this game for my innocence," he added as he tossed his cards down conceding Harrison's win.

Drummond casually watched Saxonhurst maneuvering the silver hook that replaced his hand with dexterity as Saxonhurst took up the next shuffle. It was an amazing feat after only a year of dealing with the missing limb.

"Still, gentlemen," Saxonhurst continued in his pensive way. "The ladies of our esteemed 'ton' are very unlikely to offer forth any sort of courtesan persona. If only they understood that life is too short not to indulge in full-blooded passion from the very beginning of their tender ages. Then by admitting that they do have the capacity of heated passions, they would secure their husbands to them more tightly."

"What cause would any man have for a mistress outside of his marriage if he had a hot-blooded woman at home in his bed?" Wyndham asked, seriously intent.

"Think of the trouble to be spared the families lives, his wife, and their children, if a man was not driven to take up a wee doxie on the side. Those lasses can be a bit of trouble as many times as not," Brynmore observed.

"What man does not dream of a passionate woman as his sole possession?" Drummond mused. "The facts are, gentlemen, that if you discover a lady with potential, it is for you to exploit it because the lady will never admit to herself the baser instincts that could control her. Unless the man teaches her inexorably otherwise."

"Speaking from experience?" Harrison asked with a hedonistic glean in his ebony eyes.

"It is no mystery that I am the only man here who has been married," Drummond replied easily. "I have incurred two such errors in my life along this very line. With my wife it was understandable, for it was an arranged marriage. Even still, with the wisdom that I have now gained, I do believe even that very proper lady could have been turned to more passionate natures if I had simply proscribed to put my wit and intelligence into the matter."

"Put forth as much effort into making your wife your mistress as you put into plotting Napoleon's fall?" Radford quipped with sarcasm.

"Exactly," Drummond replied. "I know now that the feat could be well accomplished with, ah, shall we say, firm resolve and a masterful plan. I aver, gentlemen, that most women need us to thrust through their inbred moral objections and show them the way." He paused and held forward his glass of amber colored whiskey as if in toast. "They would applaud us in the end."

"Here-Here," Brynmore announced, raising his glass. "Here is to wiping away all the lasses' inhibitions."

"Here-Here," Radford followed. "And, to instructing them each intimately on their passionate natures."

"Here-Here," Wyndham offered intently. "And, to provoking each of them into hot-blooded courtesans."

"And, to showing them that life is too short not to be enjoyed to the fullest." Saxonhurst toasted with solemn brown eyes.

"Now," Harrison rasped as he finished toasting the last decree. "Here is to discovering the second woman in Drummond's tale and I could be just patriarchal enough to remember the lady's name."

Drummond gave Harrison a calculating glare, as he drawled, "Really, Ravenscar?" Harrison nodded in the sublimely venomous way that he had. It was a product of his deadly assassination skills, Drummond supposed.

"The Lady Gabriella St. John, if I recall correctly," Harrison replied in a hoarse whisper, pausing to take a sip of his whiskey. "You were quite young and enthralled, I am told."

"I certainly place you too well, Harrison, to find that lady's name from my past a coincidence from your mouth," Drummond observed, feeling a heightened sense of awareness strum along his nerve endings. He had not heard the lady's name spoken in more than twenty-five years. However, he had never forgotten...

"Her husband, Lord Reginald, proposes to _sell_ her," Harrison conveyed. "A wife's sale. You have heard of these sales in the lower classes before, I'm sure."

"I see," Drummond uttered through his throat gone suddenly dry. He was shocked and for a man who seldom let anything unravel him, this came perilously close to doing just that. He leaned forward, snuffing out his expensive cigar. "It appears, gentlemen, I have some unexpected business to which I must attend. Stay as long as you will and, Harrison, I do thank you for finally arriving at the point of your suggested gathering this evening."

Then as Drummond strode from the salon, he heard Harrison's last toast. "Here-Here, gentlemen. Here is to finding that right woman."

]Chapter Two

"I cannot believe you did this, Lord Kittridge. S-Saved me! I-I ... thank you, Drummond." Gabriella St. John voiced demurely, appearing very near to grateful tears.

"Do not thank me, Lady St. John," Drummond uttered curtly.

"B-But, I ... this is all so embarrassing. I just don't know quite what to say, I..."

Drummond interrupted her misconception ruthlessly. "You, my lady, shall remove your clothes for me now. _And_ say nothing."

"Drummond!"

"Let us not be hypocrites, madame. You are now _mine_ , completely and without recourse, to do with as I please." He paused in vibrant tension. "Do you refute this, madame?"

"No, I ... No, you know that I cannot!" Gabriella cried, obviously more shaken than she had already been.

"Then, I shall see what I have purchased, madame," he continued, relentless. "Now!"

"You have become an arrogant beast, Lord Kittridge," Gabriella exclaimed, appearing more furious and embarrassed now as she tossed her mink muffler onto the wing chair in his study along with her trim mink hat to follow. She eyed him uncertainly through beautiful violet colored eyes, apparently gauging his resolve in this most daring scene, and then she cried, "I certainly could not begrudge you the entire twenty-thousand pounds that it cost you to purchase me!"

Her white gloves came off next, furiously following the mink accessories. "Just what do you intend to do with me?" she exclaimed as her shaking fingers worked on the black pearl buttons of her fashionable silk walking dress. "Make me into your whore," she panted as the dove gray dress slid to her slippered feet and she shuttered in fevered distress. "How you must hate me to do this," she despaired in obvious anguish, jerking down her petticoats one by one, until she stood in only her cream-colored, gauzy camisole.

Drummond saw at once that she was still exquisite after all these years. Infinitely more so dressed in an utterly feminine camisole. The camisole covered only to her creamy-colored upper thighs above her silk stockings held in place by frilly garters of violet satin. The lacy top edge of the camisole dipped into the sultry curves of her magnificent bosom, showing her pink nipples clearly outlined against the fragile silk. She was sumptuous with her auburn hair and purply colored eyes, little did her contemptible husband realize, but he would have paid ten times as much to have her.

"Come here to me, madame, now!" Drummond commanded. Completely ignoring Gabriella's questions and tirade as he reclined imperiously in his high-backed leather chair behind the desk in his study.

"Answer me!" Gabriella exclaimed indignant, even as she came forward with faltering steps. She only tiptoed to the edge of his desk, with one of her hands attempting ridiculously to cover her ample breasts, while the other scrunched between her perfect thighs. He could see the pulse beating wildly in the hollow of her slender throat.

"I do not have to answer to you for anything, madame. It is you, who are now fully and completely beneath my proprietorship." Drummond reached forward.

"Oh, you-you," Gabriella squealed as he clasped her wrist, hauling her unceremoniously into his lap with her back plastered to his chest.

"There is nothing for you to do, madame. No place for you to go." Drummond moved his hand then with bold rapaciousness. He slid his fingers beneath Gabriella's camisole to aggressively capture in his hand her hot flushed little pussy, while she tried instantly to clench her legs together, eliciting a strangled screech.

Then, he uttered harshly. "You may not abandon me this time. You must submit!"

"Oh, I will escape you- _you_ , arrogant bastard!" Gabriella cried, trying to struggle from beneath his arm clamped around her slender waist, while his fingers dipped, relentless into the hot, moist lips of her sex, making her gasp loudly in denial.

Suddenly Drummond's fingers halted their exploring motion as Gabriella's final words registered in his mind and he released her just as quickly. "Go then! Back to your husband. _Now_ , madame," he snapped.

Gabriella braced her hands upon his arms to peer back over her shoulder at him. "You know that I cannot ... _he_ has everything. I-I."

"The streets then, madame, I care not!"

"B-But ... there is nowhere for me to go."

"Precisely, madame." Drummond allowed his gaze to burn with demand into Gabriella's. "Spread your legs for me now! Place them up and over mine."

"I shall _hate_ you ... I-I..."

"We shall see," Drummond replied intently as Gabriella turned her gaze forward, and then collapsed upon his chest, raising her legs, so slowly ... faltering, up over his.

Drummond relaxed then. He had routed the first major skirmish and he did intend to win the entire battle. The woman in his arms was everything that he had ever dreamed her to be. Soft, feminine, and gracefully feisty, although she had no chance. Who would have ever thought in the grand continuum of life's events that he would be given this second singular chance? He never questioned the mores of God's greatest design. More appropriate, he molded those events to his own design. But this time... This time, lent him nearly to believe in divine providence.

Gabriella's shapely curves trembled where they settled over his muscular frame. Her breathing was agitated, her soft brunette hair tickled his throat from where her head moved, restless beneath his chin. Nonetheless, she struggled no more when he placed both of his palms flatly onto the gossamer flesh of her shivering inner thighs.

"What will you do to me?" she moaned, with a helpless whisper. Still, she did not fight his hands presence, nor their right to be there.

Intent, Drummond did not answer her, and he would not for a long time to come. Instead, he inhaled deeply, catching the fragrances of light orange blossoms mixed with lavender in her hair, and then the scent of hot woman's flesh beneath it all. All the while, his palms stroked upward, caressing her tender creamy flesh, following the inner curve of her thighs. Spreading her thighs open wider to expose her voluptuous apex.

"Drummond," she whimpered in a renewed attempt of maidenly protest that fell far short, because it sounded more like a mincing purr, as her flesh beneath his palms quivered and tensed.

"I should have a mirror placed to view you," Drummond murmured wickedly into her ear as his fingertips slid into the dewy, hot crease of her femininity. "I should shave these damp little curls away to see."

"Oh! You shouldn't do-!" she gasped on a throaty squeal.

"The next time I shall, madame," Drummond murmured as he parted the steamy folds of her pussy with his fingers, baring the fragile pearl that he sought. "We shall both watch you writhe just for me."

Aggressively, Drummond flicked his second finger over Gabriella's hot, protruding clitoris. That little bud he bared to his assault. Instantly causing her to quake, then shiver as she mewled. "I shan't ... I've never. N-No one has ever touched me, like..."

The last of her verse was lost within an involuntary squeal as Drummond rubbed his finger greedily over her thrusting and swollen flesh, using a blatant and sensuous rhythm. He wondered briefly at what she tried to disclaim, then shrugged it aside. He would be a fool to believe that she had not reached a climax at her age. Saints, she had been married for twenty-five years, it was unimaginable that the lady had not...

"Oh my god, Drummond," Gabriella mewled, clearly involuntarily as she squirmed on his hard thighs with delicious shivers running through her voluptuous body. Now she was industriously seeking his fingers motion with uplifted and sultry motions of her own.

Drummond allowed himself a satisfied smile. He was secure in the knowledge that Gabriella could not see the momentary crack in his polished veneer, as he used his other hand to finger the juicy, swollen flesh around her succulent vagina. One heady and exploratory roam around this tender circular opening and he speared his second finger straight into her tight sheath. She cried out, arching upward, seating his finger firmly with frenzied, honey-filled gasps escaping her throat.

All of his thoughts were ungodly lustful at how tight and provocative she was as he began to ambitiously fuck her with his finger ... one ... then two, while she cried out incoherent and quivered dangerously close to her summit. Her pale knees rose upward, spreading outward toward each armrest with increased expectancy as he inhaled the musky scent of her submission to him.

His control tottered on a fissure as a surge of lustful intent swept through his rigid control for a moment. He was hard. He had been hard this entire time, but now his shaft throbbed, demanding to be master. He battled for several straining moments with his cock's lust, as he aggressively dipped his fingers in and out of seeping heaven. But his willpower was victorious in the end, as always. Later perhaps, he would be surprised at his loss of control, but for now, he only wished to fulfill a private dream and with his control in check, he settled back to relish this lifetime's fulfillment.

Gabriella's mind fractured, just as her loins exploded into star bursting rapture. She could not control her body's spasms. She did not want to! She only desired to yield and follow the convulsing tide of pleasure as Drummond's wicked-wicked fingers continued to move inside her. Stroking her, while she moaned embarrassingly out of control. Unable to catch her breath, she heard Drummond's husky aristocratic voice command.

"Again."

She was fire. An impassioned body of flesh and bone to be molded to this arrogant man's whims. But he had the right to be arrogant, she thought incoherently, with his devilish fingers. He had a right to be anything that she could beg him for!

"Oh, Drummond," she whimpered, caught within the throes of passion, for the first time in her life.

"Yes," Drummond whispered in a throaty tenor against her ear, while his wide hand curved inward, cupping over her loins and taking her entire plumpness, possessively into his hand. She arched her loins upward, shamelessly against his palm as he stroked and rubbed her womanhood decadently with his fingers once again. This time her body eagerly encouraged him with undulations of its own, gnawing to feel that incredible bliss of rampant release that was ruling her now beneath its newest awakenings.

She could not think that she lay, straddled scandalously, backward over this man and exposed completely to the room ... to him. Mindless, she wished her pompous and cruel husband could see her now, finding passion in a man's arms, writhing brazenly for this man's touch.

"Ah-ah... Oh, _god_ ," she cried, twisting beneath the rapid flicking of Drummond's fingers, deep in the swollen folds of her sex.

"I shall have you this way, madame, anytime that pleases me," Drummond averred into her ear. "Anyplace that I wish it."

"Ah ... _ah_ ... Drummond," she whimpered, clutching Drummond's thick wrists in abandon.

"Bent over my desk, madame. In my carriage or at my dinner table. You will yield your pussy to my hand, my mouth, anything that I desire," he murmured, hitching her up higher on his lap with his arm beneath her breasts as his fingers continued to tattoo a dance in the folds of her womanhood.

"Oh-h-h..." Gabriella cried, tottering once again on the molten summit.

_"Yes_ , sweet lady," Drummond rasped. "Give me your passion ... let me feel it, Gabriella."

Gabriella sobbed Drummond's name as the passion rippled through her, stronger and more intense this time. Shaking her very limbs! Tears streamed down her cheeks as she gasped at the raw pleasure, twisting tickling ... bursting from her loins!

"Again," Drummond commanded hoarsely.

"Oh God, Drummond!" Gabriella cried.

"Yes," he growled in near savagery.

"N-no, I c-can't," she whimpered.

"Yes! You will!" he commanded.

]Chapter Three

Gabriella realized immediately that she must have truly lost consciousness in the last explosive throes of raw passion that Drummond commanded from her body, because she came awake reclining on a settee. Drummond was standing over her, languidly smoking a spicy smelling cigar. His slate gray eyes revealed nothing. There was not a modicum of tenderness in their reserved depths.

Gabriella quickly crossed her arm over the transparent material that was covering her breasts, placing one hand modestly between her legs as heat flooded her cheeks to burning. She was so confused, feeling indignant, shameful, and yet completely sated somehow. She never imagined in her wildest dreams that a man could bring a woman to such passion!

"Maidenly modesty does not become you at this moment, madame." Drummond raised a perfectly sculpted silver-gray eyebrow in reprove. "Nor shall I allow it to become a part of our newest relationship." He puffed lazily on his cigar with his gaze demanding that she move her arms.

Gabriella huffed, flustered with her familiar and graceful composure, thoroughly in shreds as she floundered, not knowing where or how to act. In one short afternoon her life had completely changed. Nothing seemed of herself anymore and she did not know where to begin to regain the pieces that had become lost or irrevocably changed.

"They prohibited slavery years ago, Lord Kittridge," she exclaimed, principally to halt the words that she would have spoken, begging Drummond to comfort her. Still, she lowered her arms as he silently commanded and she realized in a moment of panic what possession he held over her now.

Drummond ignored her comment wholly, as appeared to be a trait of his, while his gaze boldly studied her barely concealed breasts. "It could have been worse, madame. It was only by chance circumstances that I learned your husband had intentions to sell you. Quite a barbarous ideal, selling one's wife, however, for my purposes, effective."

"Your purposes?" Gabriella questioned in a whisper, holding forth little hope that Drummond would answer her inquiry.

"And to a lower class patron no less." he paused, tilting his head upward for a slow stately puff on his cigar. "Imagine my surprise?"

Gabriella shuddered, but offered no verbal comment as her gaze irrevocably slid down over the length of Drummond's tall frame, while he was not looking at her. Even at his age, he was still the most attractive man that she had ever seen. He was muscular and trim with short cut, silver-gray hair, adding a dramatic and handsome maturity to his tanned and hawkish features.

"And for what?" Drummond mused. "This claim that you are barren?"

Gabriella's mind suddenly fired from its confusion as pain and deep humiliation flared in her breast. She came upright, off the settee, with jerky and angry motions. Remaining mute, she stood and quickly gathered her clothing, holding it before her like a shield. She would not even take the time to dress. What difference could it make after this horrible day? She would find her cloak quickly and that would be enough.

"I choose the streets," she muttered, gazing downward at the shambles of clothing in her arms. Just like her life. She did not hear Drummond's approach, until suddenly he clasped his warm strong hands around her bare upper arms as he turned her to face him.

"That is no longer an option for you, madame."

Her gaze shot to his face. Somehow, he had rid himself of his cigar and she thought she detected a fleeting second of sympathy in his charcoal-gray eyes, coming and going so quick that she was sure she had just imagined it.

"Your husband will no longer have you, madame. That paragon, whom I might mention was chosen over myself twenty-five years ago. You have no further family alive, no money, and the papers signed this day between your husband and myself, while not entirely legally binding, are enough so that if you breach the contract by leaving me without my consent, I could stretch the situation enough to have you arrested, until a lengthy courtroom battle could ascertain the ramifications."

"Jail," Gabriella whispered, horrified.

"The Gaol to be exact, Lady St. John." Drummond paused searching her gaze intently as if to ascertain her complete understanding, then he released her and strode toward his desk saying, "I shall expect you to join me for dinner at seven. Your clothes have been delivered to my chambers where you may go now and refresh yourself. Rest if you need to, madame."

Gabriella remained mute, watching in horrid fascination as Drummond sat in his high-backed desk chair, facing her nonchalantly from across his inlayed marble-topped desk. His gaze was inscrutable, his mouth outlined in perfect masculine firmness, as he casually lifted two of his fingers up to his regal nose, and he inhaled. Then, he licked the tip of his second finger ... slowly. That same finger that had touched her-her!

Gabriella gasped and fled the room before Drummond's warm, masculine chuckling.

]Chapter Four

Gabriella came awake several hours later, sprawled on top of Drummond's four poster bed. She had not meant to fall asleep, however the last thing she recalled was weeping uncontrollably into the plush blue quilts. How long had she cried, she had no idea, it had been as if a dam finally burst inside her, and then she must have succumbed to exhaustion after her tears abated.

She sat upright, brushing the brunette tresses of her shoulder length hair away from her face and off her forehead. It was obvious the hairstyle she had worn today, a stylish French twisting braid, was in ruins. Foolishly, that conclusion made her nearly cry again. She had always taken pride, and the time to achieve the best appearance she could present, from her deep chestnut-colored hair, which was soft and elegantly cut, to her long polished fingernails. She might now be the age of a mature woman, however she looked well for her age. Except that now one of her exceptionally long red fingernails was cracked and her life was in ruins.

So why did she feel like sighing? In truth, she felt like running her hands over her body to discover the newness lurking there. She wanted to feel. She wanted to stretch and linger, thinking of the passion, dreaming of Drummond's wicked fingers!

"Oh ... gracious ... me," she exclaimed, bringing her hands up to her hot cheeks to keep them from roaming some place on her person. "This is so dangerous ... he is _so_ dangerous," she muttered. _Oh God,_ she thought, what was she to do?

At that precise moment Gabriella heard knocking upon the bedroom door and she nearly bolted from the bed in alarm. However, when she took a moment to realize that Drummond would not knock, she gathered her tattered nerves and the quilt about her, calling entrance.

It was a maid of stoic proportions and disposition. Her name was Matilda and her clip accent proclaimed her to be of German descent. The order from Lord Kittridge, Matilda explained, was for Gabriella to bathe and dress for dinner. This followed by no less than six footmen bearing a large and intricately worked brass tub with pails of water to fill it.

"Mien lady, I will return in one half hour," Matilda announced after the footmen left and the toweling had been placed.

After the door closed behind Matilda, Gabriella sighed, thinking that if she were a proper scion of society and breeding she would refuse the bath with indignation. The only failing with this was that she adored comforts too well and longed for the hot and soothing consolation of a bath. After that? Well, she would not dwell on that at this moment. After stripping her chemise, garters, and stockings off, she sank into the tub of hot water gratefully. She washed her hair and body vigorously, feeling as if she were washing away mounds of dirt, which could not be. It was the humiliation that she was trying to wash away, the humiliation of having her cruel and heartless husband abandon her in such a horrible and degrading fashion. No, he threw her aside as if so much trash to be discarded, completely ruining her.

"Oh," she whimpered on a tearful note into the humid steam swirling around her, then she fought her tears. She would not succumb again, she would not! No, from this exact moment forward, she would take one moment at a time.

"Yes," she breathed, what was it that they called it? "Carpe diem," she whispered. She would live to survive each moment to the next.

"An excellent philosophy, madame."

Gabriella yelped in shock and surprise. It was Drummond, tall and masculinely fluid in buff gray trousers and a sapphire blue hunting jacket, invading the intimacy of her bath. Why even her husband Reginald, had never seen her so...

"One which, I believe shall define our relationship," Drummond finished.

Gabriella clasped her hands over her breasts, bringing her knees upward to her chin. The water was soapy ... yet? "Drummond," she gasped stupidly through her embarrassment. He was so bold and quite utterly handsome.

"Come, madame," he said imperiously, bending forward slightly to hold his hand outstretched to her. "It is time to seize this moment."

"You cannot mean for me to-to ... just?" she sputtered.

"Ah, but I can, madame, and I do. I believe that I explained that quite thoroughly in my study earlier this day." His gray eyes were rich with intelligence and resolute command. "Come, madame, take my hand and step from the bath so I may dry you."

Gabriella understood that she had no choice, just as she knew that she was flushing pink when she reached her hand forward and Drummond clasped it. Oh too soon, she was rising upward, completely nude, from the spilling warm water, while Drummond's gaze slowed, and then very thoroughly roamed over every inch of her naked flesh.

"Step out and turn around, madame, so I may view your exquisite endowments from behind," he murmured with his voice sounding husky to her ears.

_Exquisite_ , Gabriella wondered, as she stepped from the tub and hesitantly turned her back to him, while water dripped down her skin, feeling extremely sensitive. It felt somehow heady to be viewed, dripping wet and naked by a fully clothed man; a man who seemed to admire the way she looked. This confused her because Reginald had never liked . . .

"Hmm, your pink bottom has a dimple. Absolutely perfect, and your legs are trim and shapely."

_A dimple,_ Gabriella wondered ... _perfect ... shapely?_

Drummond still held her hand and was using it to turn her fully around to face him again. "And your breasts, madame, how glorious. I have a deep desire to touch them. Nibble my teeth on those rosebud tips." His gaze was smoldering, charcoal embers. "Shall you allow me?"

Gabriella hung hopelessly on the sensation of his words. Nibbling her breasts? Then his last words registered. He would let her choose?

"I want to, madame. I want to touch your breasts ... to pet them. But, I will not, unless you ask it of me."

She parted her lips, but no sound came forth, before he said, "Ah, but I have a gift for you. A perfect setting, I believe."

"A gift," she whispered, trying to find any strength in her voice.

"First let me dry this white velvet skin of yours, then I shall give you my gifts ... two of them, I have, madame. Do you fancy presents?"

_White velvet skin, why I never?_ "I l-love presents," she blurted, feeling instantly embarrassed as the admission just spilled out of her.

"I thought so," Drummond murmured as he began to apply a fluffy white linen to her back, bottom, and legs. And she let him! "Turn around again for me, madame," he ordered quietly.

Drummond was so close that Gabriella could feel the heat of his body, nearly feel the brush of his hunting jacket, as she turned. She found herself gazing at the small ruby stud that he wore in his left earlobe. Such a masculine ear, she thought a bit off kilter, and the crimson ruby was unusual, but quite attractive. Then, his downy linen found her loins and her legs parted with a melting new appreciation, as he chuckled low and arresting.

"Not yet, madame. Perhaps for dessert this evening."

Her gaze flew to his, but there was no disdain or mockery, just appreciation, heady masculine appreciation.

"I shall leave the drying of your plump beautiful breasts to you, madame. I did promise," he murmured, gazing deeply into her eyes for long moments before he handed her the towel and stepped away. The whole while Gabriella heard the words, plump and beautiful, fluttering through her mind, so much so that she dared to peek downward. A lady never really looked upon her naked self, but...

]Chapter Five

Drummond savored the view of exquisite feminine nudity that Gabriella presented to him as he sat in a padded wing chair musing that he was unable to cross his legs comfortably for the willful hardening of his cock. He brushed his lower lip with his fingertips, fighting the impetuous urge to take the damn thing out and stroke it. Judas, he normally applied more control than this, yet he had never quite been in this situation before. The lady of his youthful dreams was standing naked in his home, well except for the linen she clutched, which he would rid her of shortly. Still, she was standing here, elegant and beautiful, more so in her maturity than he could have imagined, with her ripe curving figure just begging to fill his hands.

_Hmm,_ and she was his. All his or she would be once he finally set his mind to the task. The seduction of her, he had perfected in odd fantasies throughout the years, so it came easily to his mind. The securing of her, to him legally, would take much more ingenuity and he would only finalize whatever plan he conjured when he was completely certain that Gabriella would bed him and love him with abandon. He had suffered one lifelong commitment to a passion-afraid woman and he would not do so again. However, with Gabriella, even in this short time together, made him feel that he was nearly certain that she was ... Or was that just his heart?

"Drummond it appears to me, um ... or do you perchance, carry a tendre for me? From our youth together or-or ..." she asked with her voice faltering away.

Drummond felt guilty, caught for the barest of moments, and he understood that it was much too soon to hope for this in himself or her for that matter. No, he had to disabuse her of this notion, keeping her off balance, but she looked so precious standing there.

"I have a fine appreciation for beautiful women, Lady St. John, at the present it is nothing more than that I assure you." Drummond watched Gabriella's coral-shaded lips form a tantalizing moue of disappointment. He could only consider that any woman would wish their first love to be falling upon their feet in middle age. Ah well, perhaps someday, he mused, they certainly were pink-toed treasures. What was that the gentlemen, Archangels were saying, "Make the woman your mistress?" He would have to keep that in mind, he considered as he offered his hand to Gabriella.

"Come here, madame."

Gabriella gazed at him with more than uncertainty in her violet colored eyes. It was then he decided that he would have to purchase an amethyst jewel their exact incredible coloring as he watched her walk timidly toward him to stand at his bent knees. "Kneel on that linen you clutch so tightly, madame. Kneel here between my legs, so that I may gift you with your first present."

He could see quite clearly in Gabriella's open gaze the war within herself, she did not want to kneel, however, another part of her desired it. Just as he understood how secretly thrilled she was to be wholly naked before him. It was that doubt ... that self-denial of pleasure that he must overcome.

Gabriella knelt gingerly between Drummond's legs feeling scandalous. Besides feeling hot and wholly off balance, a part of her thought relentlessly of Drummond's bold fingers and the other part audaciously anticipated the gifting of a present with the excitement of a little girl. She watched Drummond pull a red velvet jewelry box from his inner jacket pocket with his lean, tanned fingers carrying it forward. _Jewelry,_ she wondered, experiencing a shiver of excitement.

"This gift is yours and yours alone. The second gift shall be ultimately for both of us," he murmured.

Gabriella hardly had a moment to wonder at Drummond's words, before she was overwhelmed at the sight of two teardrop diamond earrings! Oh, it was really quite silly for her to react like this. She really should be indignant at Drummond for all that he was doing to her. It was all so decadent. No lady ever could...

"Drummond, they are beautiful!" she gasped despite her half-hearted efforts at silent morality lessons. They were so exquisite and no one had given her a gift since her childhood.

"Tears, my love?" Drummond questioned in a tenor murmur.

"I-I..." She gazed at him, trembling as she knelt naked between his legs, hearing the resonance of his masculine voice saying, "my love," as it echoed through her mind.

"Let me place them in your lobes, madame," Drummond murmured as he leaned forward to set the jewelry box on his knee. He took one sparkling diamond earring out of the box and Gabriella placed her hands on his steady knees, finding herself inexplicably leaning her body forward to him. His fingers were warm and this time the sleeves of his jacket did brush across her bare nipples, which were distended and-and aching. He was so close that she could smell brandy and a hint of spicy cigar on his breath, which warmed her cheek. She shivered. The cloth of his jacket brushed her nipples again and she glimpsed the pink tips jutting forward as if begging for more.

"Oh," she breathed, biting her bottom lip as she inched a tiny bit closer. Oh gracious, what would it feel like if he put his hands on my...

"There, madame, now stand, so I may view them properly."

Drummond's hands touched her waist on both sides with his long fingers hot on her flesh as they spread outward over her belly, into the small of her back. He lifted her ... easily. Her breasts pressed fully into the silk of his pristine white shirt and she could feel inch upon inch of the inflexible muscles of his chest. Then, she was standing while he reclined in the chair, gazing up at her. She was so close between his legs that she could feel the tempered tendons of his thighs, brushing along her outer thighs.

"What is it you want of me, Drummond?" she asked breathlessly.

"Everything," he stated succinctly, as his gray eyes traveled slowly, possessively, setting fire to her breasts, her belly, and then warming the curling auburn hair between her thighs.

"Drummond, I..."

"Yes," he drawled knowingly, with two of his fingers rubbing over his full bottom lip.

Gabriella wanted desperately to ask him to touch her, to put his hands on her loins. His fingers. But she couldn't. She could only stand there trembling as she watched the flicker of disappointment in his gaze, come and go so quickly that...

"And now, madame, for my second gift," he said briskly as he began to pull a long gold chain out of his pocket. The chain was as delicately wrought as a necklace, however, too long to be so, but it did have an oblong-shaped pearl-colored stone in the very middle of its length.

"This is a special stone, madame, called a passion pearl." Drummond reached forward and drew the chain around her bare waist.

"Drummond, I-I..." Gabriella stuttered, looking down at his tan fingers working to close the clasp.

"Hush now," he murmured deeply as he brought the opalescence pearl forward and the delicate chain caught on her naked hips, while the pearl-stone slid downward through the springy nest of her woman's hair ... and lower! Drummond touched the pearl with the tip of one finger and pushed it. Right into the crease of her femininity! Gabriella gasped, jumping backward, but the pearl-stone was wedged and she was completely flustered as she reached her shaking hands to the chain, trying to pull the pearl free.

"Tsk-tsk, madame."

Gabriella glanced over at Drummond just as the pearl pulled free to settle harmlessly in the curls of her woman's fleece.

"Ah well, madame, you shall wear it from now on regardless," he said as he leaned back into the chair and idly regarded her. "You are never to take it off and should I ever find it not around your waist, I will have to punish you."

"Punish," she exclaimed, grabbing a linen from beside the brass tub to cover herself as she glared at Drummond.

"Precisely, madame," he replied as he stood. "We shall commence with spankings at any time or place that I do not find you wearing my passion pearl about your waist."

Gabriella gasped when she heard Drummond say spanking and she stepped backward a step, and blurted, "How barbaric, Lord Kittridge!"

"Madame, nothing would please me more than for you to find me very barbaric," Drummond stated as he strode with a lethal grace toward the door. "I should like you to wear a low-cut gown for dinner this evening," he drawled as he opened the door. "Because we are now both aware of how much, I do covet your breasts. Are we not, madame?"

Upon those parting words, Drummond closed the door behind him as he stepped into the hallway allowing a satisfied smile to crease his lips.

"A mistress indeed," he murmured as he set off down the hall. He would change into his evening clothes in another one of the numerous rooms here at his country manor. Thereby allowing Gabriella a brief respite to collect herself, besides they were having guests for dinner.

]Chapter Six

In the end Gabriella chose a deep burgundy colored silk gown with a plunging neckline. She tried to assure herself that it had nothing to do with Drummond's bold threats upon herself or her person. That it was simply because the rich colors of the gown set off her complexion and notably, the diamond earrings.

"Oh, you are truly hopeless," she exclaimed to herself after Matilda had finished dressing her hair and left her alone for a few moments before she needed to go downstairs to dinner. "Utterly hopeless," she finished in a whisper as she regarded her reflection in the mirror.

What did she see there, she wondered? Certainly not the same woman whose husband threw her aside for his pregnant mistress saying a bastard heir was better than no heir at all. However, the most horrible thought was that she wondered deeply whether she could really blame Reginald. Being barren was such a disgraceful condition. She understood why no man could possibly want a woman who w-was...

_Velvet white skin ... glorious breasts ... a dimple ... my love._ "Except perhaps, Drummond," Gabriella murmured, thinking she had never been more surprised and thankful to see Drummond at that hideous "wife's sale" her husband had commissioned. And, to see Reginald thwarted from selling her to that portly banker, as had been his intentions! Drummond had rescued her as completely as any fanciful hero. It was truly disconcerting to have the very man that you have secretly loved your entire life appear in your moment of greatest need and figuratively carry you off to safety. But was it safety? She wanted so much to believe that it was and yet, she had frivolously believed in the marriage vows also, no matter how miserable she had been through the years. The problem being, that if one man could so heedlessly throw her aside, why not the next? What could she ever hope to be to Drummond, but his lady in keeping? Yet what choice did she have, or did she really wish any other choice?

"Do I?" she whispered, remembering Drummond's hands, his magic fingers, his words, and his gaze upon her. Oh gracious he made her feel more like a woman than she had ever felt in her life, although it was all so improper and so immoral. Just then, she could hear knocking on the door with Matilda's voice behind it, reminding her of the time. So Gabriella gladly put her troubled thoughts aside, thinking distractedly that she truly had no wish to deal with them at all!

When she arrived downstairs to stand in front of what she presumed were the double doors to the dining room. It was then that she heard the distinct murmuring of conversation on the other side of the doors, accentuated by the tenor fluctuations of male voices, in some type of amusement. Guests? Men laughing? Startled, Gabriella looked askance of the very proper young butler. "Are there guests?" she whispered anxiously. Then finding herself without a moment to change her course of entering the room, which she would not have done except the attentive butler was already opening the doors.

"The Archangels, my lady," the butler said as he stepped aside and waited her entrance very properly.

_Archangels?_ Gabriella's steps faltered at the entrance.

"Madame, you are all things that are exquisite. Please come forward, Lady St. John, and meet my accomplices," Drummond said looking masculinely resplendent in his black evening attire.

Gabriella gladly placed her gloved hand on the slightly bent arm that Drummond offered her. It was foolish to feel so protected by this gesture, to find strength in Drummond's nearness. She gazed up at him knowing that her uncertainty showed clearly.

He dipped his head slightly, enough so that only she may hear his words. "And you will find that they shall be your loyal champions as well, madame."

With this assurance, he guided her into the formal dining room where five gentlemen resided in varying degrees of posture and noble rank, Gabriella was soon to discover. It was a formidable grouping of noble titles and men. Each man was handsome and distinctive in his own manner. However, simply none were more trim and attractive in their evening wear than Drummond, who stood securely at her side as she curtsied to each man's introduction. Two dukes, two earls, a marquis, a baron, and none of these esteemed gentlemen showed her a moment of lesser regard.

Gabriella nearly sighed in audible relief, during the last introduction to the Earl of Ravenscar, when he proclaimed her enchanting. Both she and Reginald knew the earl personally, although she knew none of the other young aristocrats in the room before this gathering. That it appeared Lord Ravenscar would not directly slight her for her scandalous presence in Drummond's country home. Nor for the deeds of the horrible "sale" this day, gave Gabriella a modicum of her dignity back.

Still, she could not fathom the presence of the five lords here. It was not as if the manor were found in London where all may arrive on a whim. Drummond's estate was over a two-hour ride from London.

"My lady, allow me to seat you for dinner granting these hounds their proper food," Drummond said, as he guided her to a lavishly laid dining table.

There was some hidden meaning in Drummond's words, Gabriella thought, unable to catch its subtlety beneath the varying admiring gazes of the gentlemen around her. She could not remember seeing such appreciation in men's gazes before. It was flattering and only the slightest bit discomforting to be found attractive by such a grouping of distinguished gentlemen.

When Drummond seated her, he stayed bent over her and for the barest moment his lips grazed her earlobe warmly, as he murmured for her ears only. "The earrings are exquisite on you, madame. However, in that gown, with your breasts bared so, I can only envy my passion pearl and where it must be nested at this very moment."

Gabriella barely stifled her gasp as her cheeks grew warm and Drummond moved to sit at the head of the table directly beside her. She dared not look at anything but the gold-rimmed plate in front of her. She was properly shocked at Drummond's bold dealings, but not in outrage, it was more than a bit thrilling to be flirted with so decadently. However, she had a moment of anxiety because the scandalous little pearl Drummond spoke of was laying quite innocently over her linen drawers and not at all where he envisioned it to be. She chewed the insides of her lip suddenly worried over Drummond's reaction, should he discover this.

"Please, gentlemen, find your seats as you will," Drummond said. "I believe my cook has surpassed himself this eve in honor of Lady Gabriella's presence."

Each man took his place, seeming to Gabriella as if the seating of each man were an arrangement of long standing. Lord Ravenscar sat directly across from her to Drummond's immediate right and next to him was the Duke of Sutherlin with his piratical eye patch that only lent a mysterious quality to his already dark handsomeness. Next to him sat the Marquess of Hartley, with a noticeable silver hook in place of his left hand and the longest, most beautiful brown hair that she had ever seen on a man. The gilded-haired, Baron of Hawkenge took the seat at the end of the elegantly set table, obviously to ease what must be an injured leg up onto a stool, which he promptly did. That left the auburn-haired and colorfully dressed, Laird Duneagan directly beside her to her right. He actually winked at her when he caught her looking at his kilt, which left his knees shockingly bared.

"Gentlemen, before they serve the first course, I should like to toast to my good fortune and the lovely, Lady Gabriella," Drummond said, raising his flawlessly fluted, crystal wine glass.

Gabriella was a bit stunned, of all that she had envisioned this evening in her life could entail, never had she thought it would allude to such fairy tale qualities from the horrible beginnings of this morning. She hesitantly raised her glass as was proper, finding her gaze captured by Drummond's peppery-gray eyes, over the rim of her crystal wine glass.

]Chapter Seven

Drummond pondered irresistibly that Gabriella's eyes were likened to deep and rich colored violets, shimmering in the sunlight. Inexorably, he held her gaze for long moments before allowing her to escape as the butler began to serve the first course. Then, he watched her peek downward at her plate with the beginnings of a blush coloring her cheeks to petal pink, as his gaze refocused to capture the entire vision that she presented in her low-cut burgundy gown. While the gentlemen, Archangels took up varying degrees of conversation around the table, he could only wonder about Lord St. John's sanity forever letting this woman slip through his fingers.

Through the first and second courses served, the conversation drifted through assorted male topics including boxing, hunting, billiards, and one of his favorite pastimes fencing. All discussed to a delightfully curious Gabriella. He understood that a lady of her upbringing would not have been subjected to these bastions of male interests before. Society's ridiculous and redundant mores of being that ladies were too delicate to be subjected to such rough and tumble male accomplishments.

He delighted in Gabriella's obvious interest and held his breath, as it were, to see if she would be brave enough to scramble over the walls of propriety and ask a question of her own. However, it was not until the conversation inevitably turned to their shared profession, during the third course, that she became embolden enough to blurt.

"You're spies ... all of you are spies?"

"Were," Radford amended dryly.

"And you canna let a soul know of it, lass," Brynmore briskly added.

"All of us are entrusting you with our lives to speak of this in your company, my lady," Saxonhurst advised.

"We will have to make the lady an official member of the Archangels," Harrison rasped with a rare smile directed at Gabriella.

"She should speak a vow of some sort," Wyndham said, quietly intense from his end of the lavish table.

Drummond let his gaze slip over Gabriella, who appeared amazed and a bit flustered. "What do you say, my lady, shall you join this illustrious gentlemen's club? Shall you swear secrecy, and then we will divulge our secrets without hesitation in your company?"

"I ... would. I mean, yes," Gabriella replied with demure hesitation, contradicting the excitement coloring her violet eyes.

"Excellent," Drummond responded with his gaze traversing the table and each person there. "How should we officiate this momentous occasion, gentlemen?"

"I would be voting for a kiss each," Brynmore replied, smiling rakishly. "However, I ken our leader might be vetoing this notion."

"And you would be correct," Drummond answered with a quiet, but possessive quality in his voice.

"You are the l-leader?" Gabriella asked in obvious wonder.

"The mastermind is more his tune," Harrison answered in a gravelly whisper.

Drummond raised an eyebrow to Harrison, but turned to Gabriella. "Yes, madame, I was the leader of this nefarious group of information seekers." He toyed with the stem of his wine glass for a moment. "And now to our ceremony and vow. I believe the lady should part with a secret bit of information about herself. Which we shall then keep, just as she will vow to keep our secrets."

"Oh– I." Gabriella gazed in a startled manner around the table. "I expect that it would only be fair," she finished with a dainty hand pressed to her remarkable bosom.

"Hmm," Drummond pondered. "What shall it be? Something intimate enough to cause you caution, I should think."

"Yes, of course," Gabriella replied gazing at each man in turn.

"Then let us retire to the gaming salon for cigars and perhaps a brandy to bolster our lady's courage," Harrison suggested.

"Yes," Drummond replied, watching Gabriella's eyes widen at the suggestion that she should join gentlemen in that most sacred ritual of port, cigars, and conversation after a meal. "I for one enjoy saving my dessert for a much later hour," Drummond added to Gabriella's blush as they all rose.

]Chapter Eight

A few moments later and only partially down the hallway in the presumed direction of the gaming salon, Gabriella found herself whisked into a narrow, darkened hallway. This one split off from the main corridor she, Drummond, and the others had been following.

"Drummond, what is it-?" she gasped in a near squeal. Finding her back pressed into the hallway wall by the hard, lean length of Drummond's tall frame blanketing hers. Her breasts were plumped into his rib cage and he cradled her hips warmly between his thighs as his hands closed hard around her waist on each side.

"Why is my passion pearl not affecting you, madame?" he asked with his warm lips hovering over her ear.

"How could you possibly tell?" she appealed in a whisper directed into his shoulder, he was so close.

"Your nipples are relaxed, madame, and this would not be the case if my pearl was placed properly."

"Gracious," she breathed, trying to call forth the proper amount of indignation, however, succeeding only halfheartedly with the whirl of sensations she was experiencing. Gabriella found her hands placed flat on the well-toned muscles of Drummond's chest with her long crimson nails sliding downward over the shape of his abundantly formed mounds of sinew. Not in a gesture of warding him off as one would hope that she would attempt to do ... Oh but, he felt so wonderful.

"Do you scratch, madame?" Drummond asked warmly into her ear as his hands slid downward from her waist to clasp both sides of her bottom.

"Oh my ... I, ah– do not know," she whispered with a sighing gasp.

Drummond chuckled, then his fingers spread wide clasping the cheeks of her flesh, until she could feel the long ridged outline of his manhood pressing into her lower-lowest belly.

"I believe that you do," Drummond purred with the tip of his hot tongue tracing her earlobe making her shiver more as she clutched his broad shoulders for balance. "Like a sensuous little kitten with her claws extended. Shall I call you kitten, madame? My kitten?"

"Oh." Gabriella puffed a breath into Drummond's ear with her lips grazing the cool ice of his ruby stud, while he rocked her against him ... breathlessly ... indecently along the outline of his turgid sex. The length was breathtaking and the outline seduced her with a poignant urge to rub, or-or grind back!

"I believe that I have deduced your ploy, madame," Drummond announced as the warmth of his body, abruptly left hers. And as quick, Gabriella found herself bodily twirled around to face the wall with Drummond's hands clamped to the back of her waist. She fought the illusory need for balance with her hands pressed into the cream-colored wall.

"Drummond, what are you doing?" she whispered with a slight frantic hissing sound, wondering when they would be spied by a passing servant or the return of one of the Archangels to discover what had become of them. "Someone shall see us," she exclaimed on a final hopeless note in what she prayed was a voice tinted with outrage, but which sounded suspiciously husky to her ears.

"Hmm," Drummond ignored Gabriella's half-hearted protests as he bent his knee to the floor behind her flowing silk skirts. He kept her efforts to move away from him, firmly at bay with his hands now clasped to her enchanting rounded hips, stifling her movements and causing her splendid ripe ass to gyrate provocatively, directly in front of his nose. He thought for a moment about reprimanding her to cease her struggles, however, then decided to simply enjoy the feisty attempt. A maidenly bared bottom looked so much lovelier when it was squirming.

"Now we shall see if I am correct," Drummond muttered, and then in one fluid motion he whisked the back hem of Gabriella's skirts upward to her waist, while he held her still with his other hand. The result was as he suspected; an enticing view of very practical white linen under drawers and no less enticing for their puritanical qualities.

"Drummond!"

Drummond moved his hands quickly, catching Gabriella's squirming hips as he realized that this position was not advantageous to him and he glanced over his shoulder, spying the perfect remedy in a marble-topped corridor table on his left. Without further ado, he had his feisty kitten planted firmly, bent face down over the end of the table's sturdiness. He intended to secure those drawers without delay! He noted judiciously that Gabriella was sputtering, incoherent worded phrases, and he could only assume that his feminine delectable was aghast as he bent to his task.

A moment later he had the sturdy white linen pulled to the back hollow of Gabriella's dainty knees. He could only believe that a woman's buttocks never looked quite as thrilling as when they were completely bared and squirming in this bent over position.

"Drummond, what are you doing?" Gabriella squealed in an outraged whisper.

"Anything that I wish," Drummond muttered, cupping one of Gabriella's cream-filled rump cheeks in his hand.

"Oh," she panted, wiggling up onto her toes to do what he could not imagine, nor truthfully care, while his gaze was riveted to the dark pink folds of her paganly exposed honey pot. A honey pot, he noted vicariously, that was creamy in welcoming dew, giving him physical evidence that the lady doth protest too much!

"Step out of the drawers," Drummond commanded as he slipped them down over Gabriella's small slippered feet, leaving only her sheer stockings, lavender garters, and his passion pearl, while Gabriella heaved above him in agitation.

He spoke in a commanding voice once again. "You are forbidden to wear any type of under garment that will hinder my pearl in the future, madame."

"Oh, you beast!" Gabriella sputtered.

That did it! Drummond unbent his knee to stand. He kept Gabriella pinned to the tabletop, by the length of his thigh and one of his hands, settled into the small of her back, while he lay his other palm in a stinging slap to her pearly white buttocks.

Slap!

"Ohhh," Gabriella squealed in surprise, then huffing, "beast," once again with less conviction.

Slap! Slap!

"Oww," she gasped as Drummond watched Gabriella's lush buttocks jiggle with a new pink tint, staining the tender curves from the punishment of his hand. He fondled the pink flesh with his fingers, then he lifted his hand intending to spank her again.

"Drummond, no!"

Slap! Slap! Drummond spanked both wiggling buttocks.

"Please!" she squealed.

Slap! Slap! Gabriella's luscious, squirming ass was beginning to turn red.

"No more!" Gabriella pleaded.

Drummond paused, rubbing his hand over Gabriella's wriggling lush ass cheeks, feeling the heat of her skin on his palm from where he had stung the opulent flesh. "Your cooperation, madame, or the punishment shall continue."

"How can you be so cruel?" she asked, yelping a moment later when he slapped her pillowed rump once more.

"Ohh, I will do anything-!" Gabriella cried.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

"Are you spanking her?" Extolled suddenly, an amazed masculine voice from down the hall behind them.

Drummond stalled in mid-slap and turned partially with a lazy drawl affecting his speech. "Wyndham." Drummond paused as Gabriella squealed, while trying to rise, which he stalled easily. "I am," he stated.

Wyndham wielded a slow calculating grin at him. "Touche, Drummond. You are a leader of our times. I shall leave you to, well-." Wyndham inclined his head slightly and retreated.

Drummond watched Wyndham disappear around the corner just as Gabriella sobbed beneath him. She truly was crying. Damnation, he had never intended to...

"I w-will do a-anything you say. Please, j-just release me!"

Grimly determined, Drummond lifted Gabriella, swinging her around to face him, countering his tender urges with command. "Now you have the proof of my determination, madame."

He had not intended it. It had been the furthest notion from his engaged thoughts, however, viewing Gabriella's lovely face, tear-stained with embarrassment and perhaps a hint of shame. He just...

Gabriella could not think coherently, she was mortified, indignant, and more than cowed by Drummond's superior baring. All this despite the fact that her entire body tingled strangely and her woman's core was liquid. However, in the midst of these clamorous emotions, she abruptly found her lips smothered beneath Drummond's mouth.

Drummond was kissing her! So unexpected was this that Gabriella forgot to breathe for several long moments beneath the determined seduction of Drummond's warm virile lips. That was until she suddenly gasped for air and his male tongue swept inside her mouth. This was an entirely foreign endeavor to her that left her folded backward over his supporting arm as her hands made fists in his lapels. His tongue was firm and bold, lapping her lips, top and bottom, to return with a tease against the tip of her tongue, until she followed it into his gently sucking mouth. She nearly swooned then as he captured her tongue inside the heat of his inner mouth, and he began to suckle it back and forth. Just-just, like coupling!

Drummond tasted of fire and heady wicked things, and when he released her tongue, lifting his lips from hers, an actual whimper of loss cascaded out of her throat.

"I shall allow you ten minutes to repair yourself, madame, then I shall expect you in the gaming salon with your secret prepared."

Dazed, Gabriella could only mutter a half agreeable sighing sound.

"And, your lips, kitten, after I have kissed them, are ravishing," Drummond said, right before he released Gabriella and turned to stride away. He left conspicuously to allow Gabriella the time to collect herself and never would he admit the same need to collect himself ... after that one devastating kiss from her lips.

]Chapter Nine

Drummond paused some moments later just outside the half-chiseled, glass doors, leading into the gaming salon with his hand poised on the golden knob, shaped in the outline of a lion's head. He admitted to himself that he was disturbed, as he slowly lifted his hand from the knob, not only by the kiss, but by Gabriella herself. Everything would have been splendid, more than he could ever have hoped to imagine, except then Wyndham had arrived unexpected.

"Christ," he muttered, stepping backward away from the door. He could not ignore, Gabriella's feelings completely. Of course, he could override the ones that stifled her natural passions, those devilish strictures that they bombarded into every woman in their society, with feelings of shame over their nude bodies and the denial of their sexual yearnings. These same teachings, that only a wanton or a whore would enjoy her husband's baser needs with anything more than duty.

It was all balderdash, putrid and banal philosophies that stripped the young women in their society of any chance of happiness in a man's arms. He could break down the barriers of these misbegotten codes. He could strip Gabriella of every misconception, by force if necessary, however what he could not do, is to lay hurtful waste to her pride and yes, even worse her honor.

Except, that is just what had happened with the untimely arrival of Wyndham. In Gabriella's heart she would be humiliated to have been seen thus, not even the spanking, but her body's exposure to another man, hardly an acquaintance, would shame her. And then to be brought into Wyndham's presence once again ... and so soon. No, he must regroup in this unexpected situation, and he told himself sternly, that none of his feelings in this had the least to do with the power and passion of that kiss.

"I will explain your absence," Harrison rasped as he stepped forward from a shadowed alcove to Drummond's right. "We will all be here throughout the weekend, nevertheless, as planned."

Drummond eyed Harrison with what he knew was a fierce glare. "Your stealth is renowned, my friend," he muttered.

Harrison merely smiled in a half glacier offering. "Wyndham is young and could hardly be expected to keep his mouth closed to such groundbreaking events, therefore I have only to suppose what your feelings might be."

"And you really believe that you know me so well," Drummond questioned tightly.

"We know each other so well," Harrison rasped. "Although, I cannot ever recall seeing you as you appear now. I only hope, should I ever be unlucky enough to take this fall into love, that it will not be quite as painful as it appears on your face."

"Scoundrel," Drummond growled, turning to retrace his steps.

"Most assuredly," Harrison whispered in a ghostly inflection to Drummond's retreating back.

]Chapter Ten

Drummond found Gabriella, not surprising, exactly where he had left her, only she appeared as a morose figure spilled limply against the wall. Her small head was bent to his approach, therefore, she surprised him when she spoke with the knowledge that he was near to her.

"You shall have to beat me, my lord. Throw me into chains, before I-I ... Oh!"

Drummond swung Gabriella up into his arms to carry her, eliciting her startled squealing. "Entirely too dramatic, madame," he muttered.

Gabriella clutched his neck to near strangulation proportions, allowing him to assume that no man had carried her in his arms before, as she sputtered rather indelicately. "Y-You would not think so, if you w-were the one being bullied!"

"Bullied, madame?" Drummond fairly blurted, then caught himself. "A smattering autocratic ... perhaps," he grumbled for a finish, while he noticed Gabriella's release of some tension, namely her fingernails gouging his neck, when she saw that he carried her away from the direction of the salon.

"Autocratic," she snorted delicately, with a puff of breath warming his jaw.

"I can detect that this situation calls for a gesture of proof," he drawled, starting up the long staircase to the upper floors.

"Gesture?" Gabriella asked, tightening her hold on his shoulders as she glanced precariously downward.

"Do not look down," he ordered. "Look at me."

"Bully," she whispered, burying her face into the crook of his neck.

Being so unobserved, Drummond smiled and held Gabriella a bit more tightly as he took the last five steps to the top of the stairs. "I shall allow you one objection a day, over anything you wish, except my releasing you."

"W-What?"

"I suggest, madame, that you use the boon wisely. A full day is a long measure," Drummond said, opening his bedroom door with a twist of his hand and a shove of his foot.

"And today ... do I have one for today?" Gabriella asked, as he set her onto her feet beside him.

"Exactly," Drummond stated succinctly as he dropped his chin to regard her gently uplifted face.

"Well then, of course I will use it to ..."

Drummond quickly used one finger to press over the delicate texture of Gabriella's lips, silencing her before she could use her boon precariously. "I feel it only fair to inform you, madame, that we shall not be entertaining the gentlemen, Archangels this evening. Our plans have changed."

The relief was readily apparent in Gabriella's violet eyes as she stepped back, releasing his finger's impression upon her lip, while asking incredulously, "Why?"

Drummond stole a moment's hesitation by padding further into the room, then sidestepped her query entirely by asking, "Do you play chess, madame?"

Gabriella's delicate features showed surprise, mild reproof, and then perplexity, before she finally answered, "It has been many years, my lord, however I did play chess with my father when I was young."

"Excellent," Drummond answered, watching Gabriella's awareness dawning to realize just where they stood and what she could only assume that meant would be happening soon.

"I would challenge you to a game, my lord," she declared suddenly, a little too suddenly he thought, suppressing a smile.

"Challenge begets a wager, madame. Is that what you are suggesting?" he asked bemused.

"Well, I ..." Gabriella's voice faltered, then regained its footing, while her gaze skittered for a moment. "Of course," she finished, nearly in a squeak.

"Being a gentleman, I would have to give you a lead, denoting your rustiness over the game," he paused. "A rook and a pawn, I should think would be sufficient."

"How honorable," Gabriella muttered, appearing for all the world as if no matter how high the advantage was, she had no hope of winning.

"What shall we wager ... hmm?" he asked, as he eyed the white and black chess pieces already set in the beginning position, on a low table in front of the fireplace.

"I really have nothing to wager, my lord."

"Drummond, madame, I shall have to insist that you call me Drummond." Drummond picked up the smooth-marbled queen, running his thumb over the sculptured outline. "And, I would not say that you have nothing." He paused, lifting his gaze to Gabriella's. "Your diamond earrings perhaps?"

"Oh no, I ..." Gabriella's slender hand flew to her earlobe where she fingered one of the diamond ear bobs.

Drummond chuckled warmly, looking once again at the queen. "I am pleased to see that you like them so well that you have no desire to part with them, madame."

"We could wager a deed. If you insist," Gabriella suggested suddenly.

"A deed?" Drummond questioned, with prompt and heightened awareness.

"I could perhaps mend your shirts or, um, cook you a meal. Oh no, possibly not that as you already have an excellent cook. No, I could ..."

"A meal," Drummond interrupted, being that she surprised him. Women of Gabriella's station in life did not normally lower themselves to such benign labor.

"Why yes, a meal, my lor-, um, Drummond, something you favor perhaps?"

Gabriella appeared so earnest, Drummond reflected, and in his surprise he had gotten captured carrying their game in a much different direction than he intended. Ah well, there was no hope but to regroup. "A meal ... perhaps. However, what would I give you?" he asked, setting the chess piece down.

"Above all else, I should like your vow that you will not spank me again." Gabriella's cheeks turned pink as Drummond watched her struggle to hold his steady gaze, whilst he fought down a pesky smile of admiration.

"All that for a meal?" he inquired as he began to walk toward her purposefully. "Perhaps for a meal and anything that I might desire for dessert, madame."

If possible, Gabriella's delicate features turned pinker and she appeared about to bolt, however, she stood her ground as he stopped very near to her. "I believe that is too vague," she replied bravely, tilting her face up to him.

"Even for such a boon as never being spanked by me again?" Drummond asked with a wicked soft infliction.

"Yes ... you could ask for the world for dessert," Gabriella replied with a graceful sweep of her hand.

"Your loins." Drummond abruptly stated. "Dessert would be tasting your loins."

Gabriella faltered a step backward, apparently in shock, with her hands clasped to her agitated bosom and her cheeks turning scarlet . . .

And, Drummond unhurriedly began to unbutton his shirt. "The wager is set, madame."

]Chapter Eleven

Drummond heard Gabriella stutter, clearly flustered as she asked, "W-What are you doing?"

Drummond hid his smile and continued to untie his cravat, then began to shrug out of his evening jacket. "Undressing," he drawled innocently.

"But why?" she asked in a bare whisper.

"You may remain dressed for now, madame. In fact, I would prefer it." Drummond tossed his jacket aside and began working on the ruby studs in his cuffs. "I would not have you claim that I took unfair advantage of our game. However, I prefer, residing 'au natural' in my bed chambers."

"Should I retrieve your robe?" she asked, breathless.

"I do not wear one," he replied, watching Gabriella's lovely gaze transfix on the expanse of chest that he was baring.

"You don't?" she whispered, looking comically mortified, yet curious at the same moment.

"Never," he stated succinctly as he walked bare-chested to the bed where he sat and began to take off his shoes.

"But, I have never seen..." she responded in a broken whisper.

Drummond barely caught Gabriella's soft spoken words as he glanced up at her then down to pull off his last shoe and stocking. That was the point, he mused, however he still found it surprising that after twenty-five years of marriage, Gabriella had never seen her husband in the nude. Of course it should not surprise him, his own wife had been abashed at the same notion, not that it had stopped him, at least the first several dozen times. However, eventually, his guilt over his wife's agitation had proved superior, because in the end he had barely lifted his robe to tup his wife.

What did it do to a man's ego to be so reviled? A man was not that much dissimilar to a woman in wanting his appearance to be attractive to her. In fact, he would wager that it was in most men's natures to strut their wares, as it were.

Drummond stood then, audaciously placing his fingers on the inner button loops of his calf length evening trousers with his posture, hopefully the chiseled look upon his face, daring Gabriella to choose to use her boon now. He fully realized her dilemma of course, and without any hint of compassion. Should she use the boon now, to prevent his nudity or later forbid the sexual union? If only he were a compassionate man, he would tell her that he had no intentions of . . .

"D-Drummond, you are so very handsome," Gabriella suddenly stammered and thereby shocked him as he watched her hand reach forward tentatively, in a seeming unconscious gesture. "B-Beautiful," she said in an awed whisper. "I have never seen a man without his shirt on before. I-I am not sure that I know what to do — to say to you, as you say such intimate things to me. B-Beautiful must be a wholly inadequate word to describe a man." Gabriella visibly faltered, holding her hand to her breast with her breathing labored as if she were wound in the beginnings of a passionate coupling, while her gaze liberally devoured the expression of his bare arms, chest, and stomach. "Power ... strength. It is just, I ..."

Drummond turned his back to Gabriella abruptly, haphazardly trying rather desperately to collect himself. He had expected a literal wall from Gabriella. A barricade of maidenly modesty, indignation, embarrassment, and truthfully, stubbornness, but not this-this ... It must be complete and painful honesty.

"Drummond, I have upset you. I should not have spoken."

"No. It is not that." Drummond turned too quick to see that Gabriella had moved so quietly that his clamorous thoughts had not captured it, and now she stood with her hand hovering near his upper chest. She yearned to touch him so badly that he could see the need of it shimmering in her violet eyes, however she was shy and confused, so near to toppling backward into the place that she just flowered from so recent ... so unexpected. What an enormous capitulation this must be for her, what an enormous chance. He could not think clearly in this moment, but instinct would hold him. His instinct and profound hopefulness.

Drummond clasped Gabriella's hand placing her slender fingers flat on the taut meat of his upper chest, watching her luscious cupid lips form a perfect O as her gaze dipped timorously beneath her inky black eyelashes. He was spellbound and still incredulous, yet not so far off his footing that his maleness did not react with instinct to her femininity as he moved her hand inexorably down his chest, feeling the light scratching of her long fingernails. Her palm was cool and soft to the heat of his skin and her lowered gaze seemed to be mesmerized, following her hand's motion, propelled by his.

"You are so strong," she whispered. "Shaped so perfectly ... male."

His physical build overturned her, Drummond realized in wonder. He felt the excitement of her other hand coming to his waist, pressing hesitantly until she must feel its entire lean structure.

"Take my trousers down," he commanded huskily making Gabriella's delicate hands tremor on his flesh.

"I ..." She was breathless and still would not turn her gaze up to him.

"I must insist, madame," he ordered in a low tenor feeling as though he could be regaining himself a bit. "You want to," he cajoled lightly, when she still hesitated.

]Chapter Twelve

_Oh yes, I want to_ , Gabriella thought. If the rest of Drummond were anymore divine than his top portion, she was sure she would swoon! She had never felt like this before. She had never craved a thing as deeply as was her wish to view more of Drummond's completely nude body. The craving was overriding her inherent modesty. The feel of him was crashing through her useless puritanical resolve, until she admitted to herself the need to let go. To be free to...

Boldly, she took hold of the top of Drummond's pants and began to pull them downward. They stuck!

"There are buttons, kitten," Drummond murmured near her ear as his strong fingers clasp hers and he showed her where they were. Her fingers brushed against a mysterious bulge of maleness underneath, while she nervously conquered each new button loop. The black satin material of his evening pants drooped open more with each released button as her knuckles skimmed a crown of knobbed hardness, then a rigid length. She could see his small cloth was not adequate to hide the striking beast that he carried beneath.

Drummond guided her hands to take off his pants, stepping each foot out, however left her with his brief small cloth and her hands hovering near. His hips were lean. His bare thighs were slopes of unyielding muscle and there was black and silver hair mixed in a thin patch below his navel.

Gabriella licked her lips anxiously. Dare she, her mind whispered? Dare she free herself? Give into her desire and this heightened curiosity that were inflaming her from head to toe.

"Carpe diem," Gabriella whispered suddenly, and then she tugged Drummond's small cloth downward gallantly.

What sprang free was fearless, a flesh-shod poker of iron muscle! Gabriella could remember feeling such as this between her thighs, entering her hurriedly in the pitched darkness of her bed chambers. However, her blinded imagination could not have predicted the reality of a man's naked-. What should she call it?

"Cock," Drummond murmured in a husky whispering.

Gabriella realized in surprise that she must have spoken her thoughts out loud.

"Tarse or member," Drummond continued to say as he shifted his body and began to turn away. "A groin or phallus. However, you shall call mine, cock."

Gabriella received a poignant view of the twin muscular hams of Drummond's buttocks as he strode with rippling grace toward the fireplace, saying quite calmly, she thought.

"And now for our chess game, madame."

_Chess,_ Gabriella wanted to exclaim, how could she think of chess when she had a beautifully naked man presented before her and a passion pearl wedged provocatively between her thighs ... stroking her innermost sanctuary to distraction? As a diversionary tactic, she smoothed down her silk skirts. Unnecessarily, trying to expand the moment to quiet her fluttering heart while Drummond sat, rather calmly, she thought in a padded wing chair before the chess game. His silver head came up, his gaze unreadable.

"White or black, madame, I shall allow you the first move."

All Gabriella could think was that if Drummond could appear so calm, then she must strive for nonchalance also. He was so much more worldly than she was and she had no wish to be unsophisticated to his cosmopolitan. Perhaps, couples resided nude quite often, traversing their entire homes au natural ... after they had given the servants a day off, of course. She had been sheltered in the country most of her life, as her husband had preferred it, so she really did not know the brazenness of the ton per say. This could very well be typical! With this ludicrous reasoning bolstering her, Gabriella sailed forward, finding it extremely prudent early on to gaze no lower than Drummond's male nipples. And even those coppery-colored circlets with their taut nubs played havoc with her senses.

"Wine, madame?"

"W-Wine," Gabriella stuttered back at him, having not been paying the least attention to anything but Drummond's sinewy male calves, sprinkled with dark hair. Noting that even these were muscular! "Yes, please," she finally thought to answer. Some dozen glasses, please!

The flex and draw of Drummond's muscular biceps immediately held Gabriella's gaze prisoner as he held forth a crystal glass of burgundy-shaded wine, which she caught precariously in her nerveless fingers. Then, she watched him unwind into the chair like a languid panther as her gaze drew downward to the edge of her wine glass. Only to capture in her sight the exciting views of Drummond's poised cock!

The game, of course, was forgone ... she would lose, and it was done quickly because of her mental dishabille. She could not say what she moved or where. It had to be little better than playing with a child, however, Drummond never complained. He appeared so natural, so relaxed that little by little, and with no small help from three glasses of wine, Gabriella relaxed somewhat also. In fact, to her dismay, she began to giggle when he checked her.

"Too much wine, kitten?" Drummond chuckled as he took her nearly empty fourth glass of wine and set it aside. "But I have won the prize," he finished with a sensuous smile.

"My loins!" Gabriella exclaimed with an unladylike snort, rubbing her palms over the edges of the armrest. "To taste!"

Gabriella grinned a bit lopsided, feeling somehow as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off her shoulders, leaving her floating and delightfully unbalanced. She was twirling free. "I did not know people did such as taste each other." She twirled the long red nail of her first finger on the armrest. "Naive," she grumbled in a whisper. Then an entirely new thought occurred, lifting her mouth in another smile, as she asked, "Do they both taste, Drummond?"

Drummond's return gaze to her was comical, making her giggle again. He looked stern, yet perplexed, and at the same time as though he were trying not to be amused, which barely lifted the corners of his sensuous mouth.

"You are drunk, madame," he said sternly as he stood leaving her with an unrestricted view of a splendid piece of male anatomy. Certainly, Gabriella felt contrite over Drummond's commanding sternness, as she chuckled and exclaimed, "You have a beautiful cock, Drummond-! Oh," she squealed a second later, when Drummond unexpectedly lifted her up into his powerful arms.

"To bed," he muttered, while she clasped her hands to his muscle-packed shoulders and rubbed the tip of her nose, and then her mouth along his bristly jaw.

"You never answer me, Drummond," Gabriella pouted, feeling the swing of his powerful body as he carried her. "Two entire questions and not a peep from..."

"Men," he interrupted. "Do not peep, madame."

Gabriella very industriously ran one of her long red fingernails around his ear, the masculine one with the twinkling ruby in its virile lobe. It must have tickled because he shook his head as if swishing away a fly. "And yes," he continued succinctly, "Both men and women taste, lick, suckle, and enjoy each other's loin's with their mouths."

Gabriella found herself sitting on Drummond's lap as he sat upon the bed. She snuggled closer to his wonderfully bare chest while her satin-covered bottom squirmed over the hard rigid of that loin he had just spoken about so poignantly.

"Gabriella?" Drummond clasped her hips in his wide hands, holding them disappointingly still, so she made do with tugging his silver-black chest hair, feeling the springiness sift through her fingers. However, then disappointingly, he caught the back of her hand holding it still also. "What is the second item, madame? This second question, which you say I have not answered?"

Gabriella sighed heavily, laying her cheek comforting to Drummond's bare shoulder as she gave one last attempt to wiggle her fingers beneath his hand. "Am I a fallen woman now?" she asked softly, sighing again. "That was my question," she murmured with a kittenish yawn, nuzzling his warm, muscled shoulder.

"Not yet," Drummond murmured watching as Gabriella slowly fell asleep in his arms. What a prime opportunity he was allowing to slip quietly into slumber, Drummond reprimanded himself as he continued to hold Gabriella. She was so very beautiful with her small Grecian nose and her cupid, bow-shaped lips. Her lashes were dark chocolate brown, nearing black against the porcelain fineness of her cheek and her chin was perfect in a delicate shell shape. She was a dainty piece of femininity and she made him feel overpoweringly protective, not to mention fiercely possessive. Perhaps, Harrison was right, this did indeed feel quite painful.

]Chapter Thirteen

Gabriella murmured softly in her sleep, barely finding wakefulness when a husky, roughened voice whispered in her ear.

"Do not move, my sensuous little kitten. You were restless ... let me ease you."

Gabriella could only mutter dreamily, not surprised at all in her sluggish drowsiness to hear Drummond's voice or to feel the length of his warm body so close to hers. She wriggled her toes and stretched sinuously on her stomach, languidly feeling the tempting outline of steamy male lips nibbling on her bare shoulder. Drummond's roomy hand sifted through her hair, lifting its weight off her nape as his provocative mouth followed, tracing her sensitive skin. The contour of solid masculine lips caressing her flesh brought an awakening shiver of desire, deep inside her, until she prayed that the exquisite sensations would never end.

"You taste warm and salty," Drummond murmured through a lingering kiss of his lips that made Gabriella wish to cuddle back against him so that he would never stop. "At times my tongue catches the flavor of flowers and a succulent hint of orange ... hmm, I could feast on you," Drummond whispered.

"Oh-mmm," Gabriella purred with a sensuous misty feeling as she curled her naked back, encouraging Drummond further in this dreamy midnight fantasy of hers. "It feels so wondrous," she hummed.

"I am enchanted, madame." One of Drummond's spacious hands slipped around her shoulder to grasp the column of her throat lightly, while his other fingers tickled nimbly from her knee to her inner thigh. During the entire time his inquisitive mouth rained humid kisses down to the very small of her back. "Spread your knees apart for me, precious lover," Drummond commanded in a husky murmur.

She should not.

She wanted to.

She ... did.

"Ah, that's it, my luscious kitten. Splay them wide, just for me." Drummond's hand roamed erotically across the opening crack of her bottom, dipping hotly into the crevice and stroking all the way to the exposed lips of her sex.

"Drummond," Gabriella panted, breathless, feeling his muscular forearm wedge firm into the separated crease of her buttocks as his fingers slipped into the folds of her sex. Propelling her hips off the bed and pushing her bottom in the air as her hands frantically clutched the pillows above her head. The blunt end of Drummond's finger stroked deeply, and her behind arched more, anchored by his unyielding forearm as she moaned with vibrancy. His wet tongue began to swirl at the very top crease of her bottom presented to him so wantonly. His tongue dipped lightly, causing her to quake as his finger embedded deeper into her loins, abrading her roughly, causing her to feel prickling and intense jolts of pleasure.

"Confess you crave this, madame," Drummond demanded huskily. "Tell me that you love me to rub your clit like this."

Abruptly, the addicting motion of his fingers stopped and she whimpered in loss, trying brazenly to move her body over his still fingers, deep in the pillows of her sex. He chuckled in a soft tenor rumble.

"You are passionate, Gabriella. Passionate beyond my hopes." Drummond's strong teeth nipped lightly into the tender flesh of her buttock as his hand, still clasping her throat tightened ... imprisoning her to his will. "Tell me that you want me to rub your clit, kitten. Say the words."

"Drummond," she mewled, begging him shamelessly.

Drummond's teeth caught and held tighter in the flesh of her behind as he commanded, "Say it."

He tightened his jaw, making her quiver at the slight stinging pain as she gasped, "Rub my clit ... please!"

Drummond's jaw loosened and he kissed the stinging away, as he murmured, "Always and only you." Then, his fingers moved over the sensitive peak of flesh that she now understood cradled the will of her passions. She was brazen ... wanton ... she was his. He teased her unmercifully with his naughty fingers, making her ride up on her hands and knees to keep his stroking fingers seated where she craved them to be ... hungered for them to be. To her delight, he nibbled and licked her bottom shamelessly as he played a game with his fingertips, stroking ahead or behind of the place she most hungered for him to rub. She humped her body forward or back, trying to catch his roaming fingers to the spot of her pulsating clit.

"Oh, Drummond," she mewled in heightened frustration at what proved to be too elusive to her gyrating attempts.

"You heat my blood, kitten," Drummond murmured. "Spread out this way, on your knees with your thighs open completely for my pleasure." He stroked her slick woman's lips with one finger, as he whispered, "You are mine now, Gabriella."

"Please," Gabriella begged. "Please, Drummond!"

"Ah, sweet, if you want me to bring you to release, you must obey."

"Anything!" she cried passionately.

"Then, I would taste my dessert now ... with my tongue," Drummond answered in a thrilling husky rumble.

Drummond released Gabriella, rolling onto his back, feeling the excitement grip him in a way that he had never experienced before. Gabriella was his, every passionate and lovely inch of her was his, and each new intimacy he tempted would only bind her to him more profoundly. He reached over and clasped the tender, pliable meat of Gabriella's pale hips as he bodily lifted her over his chest.

"Drummond!"

"Clasp your hands high onto the bedpost, madame, and do not let go," he ordered in a passion-rife voice.

Gabriella's pale body was flushed pink with arousal, carnal to his senses as she rose over him, clasping her small hands to the bedpost. The high position of her arms raised her large breasts into moonlight balls of creamy flesh, making his fingers curl in the buoyant sustenance of her hips to keep from grabbing those luscious melons into his hands.

"Crawl on your knees, up over my shoulders, Gabriella," he expelled with a husky-rough voice.

"Oh God," she whispered.

"Do it," he demanded, dragging her hips forward and making her knees crawl where he bid them, until he had her humid pussy inches from his mouth. "You are my first, Gabriella," Drummond uttered hoarsely as he pulled her downward, spreading her knees over his biceps and into the crook of his elbows. His mouth brushed the chocolate-colored curls covering her lush pussy as his tongue darted forward to taste dripping fire.

"Oh, God, my amour!" Gabriella cried out passionately above him, tilting her pelvis forward in admission of her desires as he tasted the taste of tangy, piquant woman for his first time. By god, it was carnal beyond belief and he adored it. He loved the intimacy, adored the way it made him feel as though he were branding Gabriella as his for all time.

Once the first flush of newness was expended, Drummond used his tongue industriously, exploring every inch of Gabriella's pussy with the flat of his tongue. The flesh there was so incredibly fragile that he was in awe of its femininity and Gabriella's passion was overriding her natural modesty, turning her into an enthusiastic partner. A demanding one actually.

Drummond held back his murmur of delight over his now equal partner. Gabriella obviously wanted him to suckle the bulb of her clit and employed energetic body movements to try to divert his tongue and mouth completely to her cause. However, he held her firmly by her soft rump, guiding her where he wished to go, which at the moment, was an astonishingly lustful thrust of his tongue into the tight sheath of her vagina.

"God," he moaned through a mouthful of heavenly female flesh, just as Gabriella cried out deliriously with the prod of his tongue. They both seemed to enjoy this so much, he decided to expend some energy on it and soon had her bouncing up and down in a licentious fucking position, over his stiffen tongue.

"Oh, g-o-d Drummond!"

It was then Drummond felt the first shivers of Gabriella's convulsion deep in his throat. She was very close to the edge and he stopped mating her with his tongue and closed his mouth rigorously around the pearl of her clit, sucking hard. Gabriella screamed amorously above him, while clutching his head with both hands as she rode his face and he felt the spasms of her orgasm rippling through her. They washed over him, incredible and intimate, with her innermost thighs sending quakes through his cheekbones, her swollen clit pulsing in a strobe against his tongue, and her labia lips quivering over his mouth.

"Oh, Drummond-Drummond!" she panted, finally coming to stillness above him and he thought perhaps he ought to catch her before she swooned. However, he took one small moment to kiss his passion pearl, which had been bouncing off his chin upward into the rosy-kissed lips of Gabriella's succulent pussy. Finished, Drummond murmured, "I shall not be jealous of you again, my little pearl." And then, he swooped upward to catch Gabriella as she fell languidly and sated into his arms.

"Oh mercy, Drummond," Gabriella whispered faintly as Drummond caught her in the circle of his arms.

They were wrong! Gabriella realized how many years she had denied her passion because of a husband too stodgy and cruel to share. Or by a society bent on telling her that if she desired ... yearned with her body, she was sinful, wanton, and a corrupt woman. All of them were so horribly wrong. How could anything that was so beautiful, so loving, be anything but blessed?

Drummond took her hand and placed it with her palm down on his chest and she felt the mist of sweat clinging to his hot skin, as he murmured, "Touch me, Gabriella. Put your hands on me."

And she did gladly. Opening her eyes to be held prisoner by the power of his smoldering gaze. There was deep carnal passion reflected in his gray eyes, raw and lustful, barely contained by his iron will. Yet there were also tenderness and yearning, with the barest hint of vulnerability.

"Drummond, show me," Gabriella whispered, and Drummond took her hand and wrapped it around the base of his cock where the heated flesh sagged a little, but began to swell instantly with her touch. His beautiful organ lifted higher, stiffened more, stretching her fingers with its throbbing mass.

"Ah, sweetheart, I have never been so hard ... so engorged," he murmured huskily into her ear, making her quiver with renewed passion.

He lifted his hips then, drawing his powerful cock of masculine meat and steel through her circled fingers, until her first finger and thumb brushed the velvet head. Then, he thrust his hips forward, until her hand plunged to the base, while his gaze held hers intensely. He was allowing her to see each flare of pleasure that crossed his handsome features, making her aware that it was she who controlled his passion now.

"Hold my cock tightly, kitten, as though you will never let me go," he commanded huskily.

Instantly, Gabriella tightened her hand around his hot, swelling organ with a murmur.

"Yes," Drummond hissed through his teeth, lifting his head for the first time from her gaze. Baring his muscular throat to her sight as he swung his hips backward then thrust them forward again. It was the mating rhythm and Gabriella learned from Drummond's movements how to please him. This was so much more physically intimate than if he had entered her, for she could feel the exciting textures. Feel the passion and swell of him on the surface of her hand. Touch the power and strength trying to break her hold and feel the heartbeat deep inside him.

Drummond shifted then, to lie on his back, allowing the momentum of her hands to take control as his hands wandered warmly over her bottom. Then, rousingly, he used one lean finger to enter her in an abraded thrust, copying the rhythm she beat on the column of his cock.

"You like this," he rasped in a barely contained groan with his hips coming off the mattress as his other hand found the throbbing heat of her clit, making her go wild.

Gabriella's mind was a rosy haze of straining carnal lust inspired by what Drummond's wicked fingers were doing to her body. So when he commanded her hoarsely to watch him spill his seed for her, she had only one erotic thought that would satisfy her. Gabriella leaned forward, until her breasts plumped in the cradle of Drummond's hips and she brazenly filled her wet mouth with the crowned head of his cock.

"Oh God, Gabriella," Drummond expelled in a drawn out groaning as his entire body shuddered, and he hissed, "I'm going to-t— come — I can't stop-!"

Gabriella suckled Drummond harder! Pumping her hand and feeling the incredible warm strength of him in her mouth as she experienced a great expectation building all around them, like a storm of magnificent proportions was about to crash down on them. She had no idea of what to expect, but what happened was so thrilling and sexy, that she climaxed herself in a furious quiver over Drummond's fingers, just as his hot creamy juices spread into her mouth.

"Jesus," Drummond expelled in a clipped off roaring, as she felt his cock drawing in, and then flexing outward in long rippling motions. And — she swallowed, while her thighs quaked around Drummond's forearm in lingering, bliss-filled eruptions of pleasure.

]Chapter Fourteen

The next morning, Gabriella came slowly awake to the heady fragrance of orchids. In her sleepy state she thought perhaps she was dreaming of a warm tropical island with beautiful orchids surrounding her. However, when she opened her eyes slowly to reality, she found her naked body sprinkled with the flowering blossoms of pure white orchids. There was one snowy orchid blossom adorning her womanhood and another tucked behind her ear. Lily-white orchids nuzzled the valley of her breasts down to her navel and she could feel more of the tender blossoms tickling the bottoms of her toes.

"Drummond," she murmured in awed delight as she rose to a sitting position on the bed with snow colored orchids floating around her, kissing her flesh with velvet petals as they fell to snuggle around her like a satin blanket.

"Oh my," she whispered, so touched that her voice was small as she spread her fingertips out to tickle the delicate petals, while her gaze assured her that she was quite alone in the room. Drummond was gone.

"And, he has left me the most beautiful present," Gabriella sighed, allowing the feelings of cherishment and splendor to wash over her. It was sensual pampering at its most intimate and Drummond was an expert in the craft. He had taken what could have been a difficult moment for her, awakening to the harsh light of day. After such exotic intimacies of the night and he had found a way to soothe her natural shyness over such new activities. It was then that she found the note buried in the orchids and she picked it up to read aloud.

"My love, you cannot know how deeply I enjoyed flowering your exquisite body with my orchids. Each touch of the petals on my fingertips reminded me of your tender flesh. I shall ever after regard your secret place that sings to my tongue as my orchid."

"Oh my," Gabriella breathed, fanning her face before she continued.

"I have taken the liberty of choosing your wardrobe this morning. It is my fondest wish that you enjoy all that I have purchased for you. My personal attention throbs in anticipation of viewing you in my selections. With this in mind, I respectfully request that you join me for a light repast after your morning toilet. Further, I inform you that the gentlemen, Archangels have requested our presence at an impromptu racing event. It appears Lord Radford and Lord Brynmore are endeavoring to decide which breed of stallion is superior. I may mention that the gentlemen, Archangels are with us through the weekend."

Gabriella folded the letter carefully. Actually, she considered it was a study in nonchalance—right before she giggled and bounced off the bed exclaiming, "Carpe diem," as she went excitedly in search of Drummond's presents. When she entered the dressing room, she saw the dress immediately where it was laid out across the chaise lounge, and where she ended on her knees before it.

The dress was black velvet and it displayed the relief of a stand-up, white-lace collar that ended near where her collarbone would be, to then fall into a daring diamond-shaped bodice. Gabriella could see that the black velvet bodice would cling dramatically to the inner slopes of her breasts. Also resting on top of the dress were two red satin jewelry boxes, in which she found a teardrop diamond necklace in a length that would nestle her cleavage and a finely wrought diamond anklet.

All of the gifts spoke of heady sensuality and Gabriella shivered in anticipation of wearing it all for Drummond. Only he would know that she wore no underclothing, only he would know that his diamonds circled her ankle, and only he would know that his passion pearl abraded her intimately with each movement. It was all of it, every bit of it, akin to a never before realized dream come alive and now that she knew the reality of the dream, she would have wished for it her entire life.

"I did wish for it," she murmured, spreading her fingers over the black velvet material. "Only, I never realized just how much I missed by the betrayal."

That was what she always called it in her mind, 'the betrayal,' her father's and her husband's. However, it had been so many years ago, and she had tried so hard to forget ... and forgive, even believing that she had done so, until now, faced with all that she might have had in her life, but lost all those years ago.

"But, I must not think of that now," she exclaimed as she stood and went to the armoire to throw open its doors. There she found the inner closet filled with new dresses, shoes, cloaks, and a chocolate colored mink wrap that fell to the tops of her toes when she wrapped it around herself.

"Carpe diem," Gabriella whispered. "I must think only of my joy for the moment and not dwell in the past. The past is gone and I shall find another secret to give Drummond, because he cares for me after all these years. Even without knowing the truth about what really happened to our love so long ago."

It was best. She need not redeem herself in Drummond's eyes. He cared for the woman she was now with as much passion as he had in their youth. Perhaps in years to come, if they found their comfort together as she knew they must, she would tell him then of her secret ... of the betrayal. Then, they could laugh together about all they did have and find relief that the betrayal had not doomed them forever.

Gabriella nibbled her bottom lip in concentration and spoke hesitantly aloud, her conviction. "I will gladly be Drummond's mistress." Then, she twirled in a pirouette with the mink flaring about her ankles, as she exclaimed again more firmly. "I will seize my joy no matter what the circumstances!"

]Chapter Fifteen

An hour later, Gabriella was bathed with her hair done in a winsome, provocative chignon that allowed loose tendrils of her auburn hair to brush her nape and temples. She appeared at the top of the staircase, wearing the black velvet gown with an orchid pinned boldly to the material sloping over her left breast.

She had been aware of raised voices seeming to come from the entryway as she approached the top of the staircase. She paused at the top to look down and investigate, seeing Drummond's young butler standing before the partially opened front door. A door which he appeared to be trying to close against an unseen force she could not identify from her angle. Nonetheless, Gabriella watched the young butler's failed attempt, and then the door came crashing open with a resounding thud.

"I want my wife, now!" thundered a man's heated voice, just before her husband Reginald shoved his way into the meridian and green-marbled foyer. "Where is she?" Reginald continued to shout with his thin face mottling to vivid red.

Gabriella could only imagine that this was the most strenuous exertion her erstwhile husband Reginald had put forth in years as it appeared lately that he could only roust himself enough to gamble and wench, as he called it. Gabriella watched Reginald gaze lift suddenly to where she was standing, and she faltered a half-step backward at the earnest look of loathing that appeared in his hazel-brown eyes.

"You are to come with me immediately, Gabriella! I am rescinding this transaction," Reginald spat, as he reached inside his dark grey overcoat and withdrew a small packet, which he tossed onto the marbled flooring at his feet, echoing a plat sound through the foyer. "And..." Reginald snapped turning to the butler, "You may inform Lord Kittridge that there is his money returned with interest!"

"But why?" Gabriella gasped incredulously.

"Because, madame..." Drummond responded, completely surprising Gabriella, because she had been so riveted by her husband that she had not seen Drummond entering the foyer. Drummond did look, she noticed immediately, masculinely resplendent in his brown cutaway jacket and thigh-molding, buff-colored hunting britches as well as his polished Hessian boots. In fact, compared to Reginald with his wispy and receding hairline, Drummond was a sleek male lion to Reginald's rather pallid lamb.

"His mistress has left him," Drummond continued to say. "Claiming, I believe, that she was mistaken in the parentage of her child after all was said and done." Drummond paused with a steely-eyed gaze directed at Reginald. "A slight oversight, it seems, simply cleared for all when the Prince Regent himself has come forward to claim the unborn bastard child as his very own. Quite a boon for the young lady, I am told," Drummond finished with a lethal smile.

"How could you possibly know that?" Reginald raged. "And, it is lies! All lies! I say the bitch-!"

Reginald was choked to a stop, because Drummond grabbed him with a stranglehold by the cravat, as Drummond stated in a controlled, but menacing voice. "You will not speak foully in my lady's presence."

"Y-Your lady," Reginald sputtered, grappling his hands around Drummond's wrists in a useless attempt to remove the hand strangling him. "Your whore," Reginald finally managed to wheeze.

"Why you!" Drummond hissed whipping his arm backward in obvious motion for a punch.

Gabriella thought impulsively, that she really should allow Drummond to punch Reginald, right before she exclaimed, "Drummond, please don't!"

Gabriella watched Drummond uncoil very slowly as if he were using immense willpower not to carry through with his intended and righteous, but she considered secretly thrilled, passionate violence on her behalf. To have so much control over such a powerfully made man, affected Gabriella's insides to quiver in excitement, as she further watched Drummond loosening his hold about Reginald's neck and step backward. Then, Drummond swung his gaze to hers with a penetrating gray-colored charge making even the top of her breasts flush beneath its positively virile quality.

"I defer to you, my lady," Drummond responded intently. "For the moment. However, should Lord St. John continue in this manner, no matter how overset he is beneath his life's travails, I reserve the right to throw him bodily from our home, madame."

"Of course, Drummond," Gabriella murmured with a demur sinking of her dark eyelashes as she proceeded to take a step forward in an action that would take her down the first step.

"I would prefer, madame, that you remain where you are for the moment," Drummond said, stopping Gabriella's movement. "Standing beside Lord Hawkenge," he continued to add.

Gabriella looked over and upward in surprise to see Lord Hawkenge standing beside her with a solemn expression on his golden tanned features. Lord Hawkenge sketched a slight nod of his head murmuring, "My lady," in a quietly resonate voice, and Gabriella nodded in return. She was surprised that she felt not the least bit embarrassed in his presence, but rather grateful for his support at her side.

"And, I would prefer that she come with me, this moment," Reginald spouted. "Before I am forced to bring the magistrate here to legally withdraw her!" Reginald twisted his ruined cravat into more of a tangle. "As it is, Kittridge, you can expect me to file charges against you, for bodily injury! Now, I want my wife back!"

"How interesting," Drummond replied.

Gabriella moved to interrupt them with her more important question, which had not yet been answered. "But, please, Reginald, you must really tell me why. Why is it that you suddenly wish me to return?"

A strange event transpired then, for Reginald appeared, for all the world, as if he might have just at that moment swallowed a frog ... whole. He blurted, "Because I love you!" Then, he paused and seemed to work his mouth around some more difficult words, before spewing rapidly. "And I cannot live without you!"

Once this difficulty appeared passed him, he straightened and tugged on the bottom of his yellow and royal blue diamond vest. An atrocious setting, Gabriella thought as she listened incredulously to him say, "There now I have said it, let us go home."

Gabriella turned her gaze to Drummond in bewilderment and found Drummond's calm assurance, before he said quietly and seeming to her alone. "I could venture to expound, my lady."

Gabriella nodded in confusion, certain of only one thing in this calamity and that was Drummond. My how it warmed her inside to feel such unshakable unity with another person. This was how a man and woman who were meant to be together should feel, Gabriella realized, as she said, "Please, Drummond."

"I really do not see why..." Reginald began, only to be cut short by Drummond's piercing gaze and further words.

"Silence!"

Reginald was left with his mouth hung open, as Drummond continued, "I really cannot abide your attempts at bullying. However, we shall all be quit of this soon enough. Now to answer my precious lady's question of the proverbial why. Why would the husband who so disreputably sold his wife to another man, in a shamefully public forum, I might add, now show himself upon the very doorstep of the man he blatantly sold her to? Now decrying his renewed bouts of love for the lady, in the most emotionally frigid attempts, to which I have ever been a witness."

"I say!" Reginald sputtered.

Drummond held up his hand in a silencing gesture and continued, "Because it seems, madame, that Lord St. John finds himself in a most untenable situation. It appears that he did not tend to his business as a peer of his station ought to do. Therefore, he has misplaced or perhaps had wholly forgotten that it is you who now carry the fortunes of your estate. Not one farthing of his much smaller entitlement is left any longer. We would assume gambling has expired this amount and all that he holds now, but may not touch, is through legal marriage to you."

"It was you then," Reginald exploded as Gabriella took hold of Lord Hawkenge's supporting hand. "I should have known!" Reginald continued to sputter in fury. "It could only have been you, Kittridge, who set them on me!"

"Set who?" Gabriella whispered. But, Drummond apparently heard her, because he answered.

"The attorneys for the Lyndfall estate. Quite enormous holdings, I am given to understand. I, however, did not set them upon you as you so put it, St. John. It was unnecessary, as the gossip over your low-bred treatment of your genteel lady-wife has spread like wild fire upon a parched land."

"They have even refused me entrance to my club," Reginald whined suddenly. "All those turncoats who made boisterous claims of supporting my cause, who encouraged me to be the first to rid themselves of — Oh, um, well ... they turned coat, every one of them. My god, Gabriella, your attorneys are threatening to throw me off our Lyndfall estate if you do not show yourself by my side as soon as possible ... so that we, ah, can show the world that we have reconciled." Reginald began muttering then, tugging at his short overcoat sleeves, just before he blurted, "And, I should, I would, forgive your infidelity beside all of our happy years together!"

Gabriella sniffled into the white linen handkerchief that Lord Hawkenge had so graciously offered her, because she had been tearing silently ever since she had completely understood Reginald's motive for coming here, superstitiously to fetch her back to him. However, at his last words, she grew quite faint, but thankfully Lord Hawkenge steadied her, as she said weakly, "Drummond, I understand nothing of these estate concerns, but I cannot listen to any more of this-."

"Me!" Reginald yelled, interrupting her. "You will speak to me, not this-this-!"

"Oh my," Gabriella gasped, thinking that she really was going to faint, when strong arms came around her, lifting her up off her feet. To her horrible embarrassment, she began to cry in earnest right into the corduroy fabric of Lord Hawkenge's hunting jacket.

It was then she heard Drummond say, "Enough, St. John, there will be no more talk!"

While Reginald was beginning to rant heavily, Drummond called up to Lord Hawkenge, "Wyndham, take her to our rooms."

"Your rooms!" Reginald shouted. "Kittridge, I shall kill you ... and, Gabriella, you bitch, I should never have let your father convince me to bed you that night!"

Gabriella heard the men scuffling as Lord Hawkenge carried her away, she did however, catch Reginald's last horrible shout of words.

"My God, he even gave me the key! Did you know that, Gabriella?! Your father gave me the key!"

"Oh my dear," Gabriella whispered tearfully into Lord Hawkenge's broad shoulder right before she truly did faint.

]Chapter Sixteen

Drummond paced outside his bedchamber door gnawing on the end of a cigar gone cold, in his agitation. Damnation, he cursed silently, he usually had more control than this. He never bowed to visceral instincts such as outward displays of fury or extreme agitation.

His gaze swept over the five Archangels standing with him in the hallway, each attempting to ignore the visual display of his unsettled pacing as they faced him. Gabriella was recovering from her faint in the room behind him, with Matilda's ministrations. He was left with the damning last words of Lord St. John ringing in his mind. Just barely hinting to him of some terrible event in history, of which he was totally clueless. But by god, he would know now!

Drummond halted abruptly and turned to face the Archangels as he spoke with suppressed authority. "Saxonhurst, you are now in charge of gossip management. The principal has been grievously harmed in these events and I demand voices out there of equal equity. Consult with Radford who will head the investigation for your base information and direction."

Drummond paused, turning his gaze away from Saxonhurst and he pinned Wyndham with his glare as he continued to disperse orders. "Wyndham, you will use that law degree you are so fond of and gain me entitlement! I want the principal's complete restitution and restoration."

"Brynmore." Drummond swiveled to face Lord Duneagan. "We need foot soldiers for further surveillance, especially for the malefactor, and we shall branch outward from there." Drummond paused, gnawing on his cigar as he faced them all as a group. "Gentlemen, as is customary, Harrison shall be our vindicator in this endeavor ... and gentlemen," Drummond paused as he stressed, "I demand the first taste of justice quickly or else, I shall gut the menace myself, personally!"

Each man nodded, breaking apart to follow their orders. He had kept them up to date so far and they each knew from past experiences, what he required of them. Only Harrison hesitated in his withdrawal and instead came to his side.

"This has become even more personal?" Harrison asked.

"Yes," Drummond replied in a clipped voice. "We will obtain the principle's freedom by any means." Drummond paused and took a harsh breath. "However, we will entertain all avenues, before I set the final course of action." Drummond gazed frothily at Harrison. "If only for my lady's sake, I will entertain lesser mercenary means. But, I shall have her, Harrison, freely and clearly as my own."

Gabriella stepped away from the opposite side of the closed door and hurried back to the bed, before Matilda could return and find that she had been eavesdropping. Was she the principal, Gabriella wondered as she lay down on the bed? Was it she, whose freedom Drummond was seeking? Then, her mind leaped forward, wondering excitedly; could he? She had not understood most of what Drummond had said, except it seemed as though he would help to secure the estate she supposedly held. How odd that her father would do such a thing. However, she clearly remembered her father begging her forgiveness on his deathbed, and she had given it to the deflated and repentant old man, in his last breaths. Perhaps he had come beyond the grave to seek his redemption as if money or land could ever buy back-.

"Madame ... Gabriella."

Gabriella turned her head to see Drummond moving toward her with his special brand of fluent male grace.

"Drummond," Gabriella whispered as Drummond took her hand and sat beside her on the bed, immediately stroking her cheek with the back of his knuckles. "Did you do all of it, Drummond?" Gabriella asked.

"Hmm," he murmured, bending closer to kiss her temple, where he said, "Perhaps the bit about the prince regent, love. Priny does owe me a few favors and laments how he will ever repay them. However the rest, although completely expected, was truly gossip sparring from the events."

"Oh, Drummond," Gabriella sighed, and then she murmured in wonder, "The prince."

"For you, my love," Drummond replied as he kissed her cheek, and then the corner of her mouth. "Anything."

Gabriella caught Drummond's mouth soundly with her lips, languishing in a deep kiss before Drummond pulled away to look at her closely. "And now, my love, I believe you owe me a secret."

Gabriella lightly caressed the chiseled bone of Drummond's jaw with her fingertips, as she asked, "Must we, Drummond? It was so long ago."

Drummond's long and slightly roughened finger pad pressed against her lips, silencing her as he answered, "We must, Gabriella. I must."

Gabriella understood then, more than she had before. Drummond hurt as she hurt. He needed to understand that she had not willingly turned away from their fledgling love all those years ago. Gabriella stroked Drummond's chin with her thumb, feeling his strong cheekbone with her fingertips.

"Yes I will, Drummond, but you must let me tell you in my own way." Gabriella paused and traced Drummond's full bottom lip with the soft edge of her fingernail. "And, I owe you a meal first. A dinner that I would prepare. A meal for just you and I."

Drummond's smile was very slow and filled with sensuous promise. "A meal, a secret, and then perhaps after we shall entertain dessert."

Drummond left her then with the promise of his lips still warming hers. She would have the day to plan ... to decide, and in the end to try on her own to shake the sensual master's world. Could she do it? She would have to be very brave!

]Chapter Seventeen

At precisely seven o'clock, Gabriella was standing outside of Drummond's study, repeating the litany, "seize the day," in her mind.

_Oh, she could not do this_ , Gabriella thought nervously, pressing her forehead to the cool wood paneling of the door. The Archangels were gone on their separate duties for Drummond so she and Drummond were alone. All day she had boldly planned this, until now she stood here hesitating in her inborn shyness.

Abruptly, Gabriella exclaimed in fierce whispering, "I have wasted twenty-five years. I love him and will not waste another moment!" Her hand reached for the doorknob bravely. "I will not!"

Gabriella swept into the room as regally as she could muster with her bare feet and her hair tumbling down around her mink-covered shoulders. It was time for her to attempt to seduce the master. Drummond's head lifted from what he had been studying upon his desk and Gabriella noted with satisfaction that her unexpected entrance had surprised him. Drummond's gifted gray eyes moved slowly to study her appearance, sliding over her unbound hair, her entire petite stature folded inclusively in the sable colored mink — to finally rest, for long moments on her bare feet with their crimson painted toenails. He was intrigued and it heightened the air in the room between them. Gabriella finished shutting the door firmly behind her and ran the tip of her tongue over the edge of her lightly rouged lips, to dampen them.

"I have a confession to make," she said lightly, moving further into the room.

"You do," Drummond murmured, leaning back in his chair as his gaze tracked her approaching movements. He had obviously been passing the time waiting in his study for the dinner hour to arrive. He was dressed elegantly in his crisp black evening attire. His ruby stud, blinked blood-red in his earlobe, as she stopped in front of his desk.

"I have given all of your servants the evening off ... every last one," Gabriella said, as she stroked the front edge of her mink wrap with her long red fingernails.

Drummond's features tightened in a purely masculine way, with his square jaw notched upward. He watched the languorous motion of her hands, through his eyes now partially lidded. "Very industrious of you, madame," he answered in a husky tenor.

Gabriella thought that she had seen Drummond exude manful intent before, however, it was nothing compared to his heightened awareness now. It was as if he scented the air and found his mate ... perhaps his fertile mate. And, he was engaged.

"Would you escort me to dinner, amour?" Gabriella asked huskily. "I have had it placed in the small intimate dining room across the hall." As Gabriella spoke, she feathered one hand upward in the direction of the door allowing her mink wrap to open over the bareness of one knee. A tease, before it was covered again. She felt the thrill of it heat her cheeks as she watched Drummond skim his full bottom lip with the top of one finger.

"I would be enchanted," Drummond replied in a resonating murmur as he stood with a supple and panther-like quality, so tall and well formed.

Gabriella took his proffered arm, feeling the tractable muscle beneath the superfine material of his evening jacket as she tilted her head in a coquettish gesture and smiled upward in what she hoped was an alluring manner.

_Precious,_ Drummond thought, however, Gabriella was alluding to a plenitude of sensual provocativeness. Interesting. His gaze followed the flow and shape of Gabriella's fluffy mink wrap as they walked to the dining room across the hallway. It did not escape him that the wrap she wore was entirely out of place. No, it merely excited him in a way he had never experienced. It appeared his lady had not only blossomed, but effloresced into a flower of the rarest creation. His flower. His orchid.

"Please, my lord, sit and I shall serve you." A breathy pause followed as Gabriella pirouetted, her back to him. "After you take my wrap, of course."

Drummond imagined, knowing his lady-light as he thought he did, that she would be wearing a silky shift beneath the mink. She was newly shy of their intimacies together and she appeared to be trying mightily to seduce...

Gabriella was gloriously nude! Stunned, Drummond inhaled a startled and very heated breath as the mink wrap came away from Gabriella in his hands. By god, would it always be like this as though he were seeing her nude for the first time?

It also occurred to Drummond— quite peripherally, for his gaze was entranced by the view of Gabriella's lusciously rounded and pale buttocks— that there appeared to be no food or summery utensil for eatery in the room. Candles flickered over a snowy-white linen tablecloth, stretched over the elongated dining table in a very provocative manner. Provocative? Since when had a mere dining linen, exacerbated in his mind, to be placed as arousing?

"Do you like my breasts, amour? I rouged the nipples a tiny bit— can you tell?"

Drummond's head swiveled. Oh yes! He could see that. However, what stunned him and sent a lightening jolt of desire spearing his groin to turgid attention, and every place between, was Gabriella's pink-lipped orchid. Bared!

Gabriella's heart-shaped loins were completely shaved of auburn curls and as tender looking as some newborn baby's bottom with his passion pearl kissed between the pouted, blossom colored lips. Drummond thought, perhaps he growled— a mating sound surely— as his much touted control snapped completely.

"Do you like it?" Gabriella asked, much too innocently, as she stroked one of her long scarlet-painted fingernails up over the plum-shaped outline of her loins. "You must shave me every morning if you wish to keep me this way."

Drummond did growl then, a predatory mating sound, as he swept Gabriella naked against him and took her mouth beneath his impassioned lips. They had seduced. They had played. However, now every tissue that made him a man, demanded that he take her ... fill her ... make her his completely.

Drummond released his ravishment of Gabriella's lips and bent, catching her thighs beneath his forearm as he quickly lifted her up high against his chest, while he walked the few steps to the table. "I presume you are this evening's full course meal?" he asked huskily, neither really wanting nor needing an answer.

Drummond did realize, however, that he needed a breath of space to tamp down on his flaming desire. Gabriella was just too precious to him to be rough with, as his inflamed lust was challenging him to do through every excited pore of his body. So, when he reached the table, he set Gabriella fully down upon its linen surface, even her dainty feet, and then he stepped backward, a pace. "Please, madame, stand so I may view my tasty morsel."

Gabriella appeared hesitant, but took his hand, using it as leverage to stand. By god. This was not helping at all! Gabriella was sleek, yet enticingly well rounded, toasted to an apricot sheen in the candlelight. From the outline curve of her hips, to the sleek flatness of her belly accentuated by the dangling slope of his golden chain about her hips, to the shapely line of her legs, she was ravishing. Drummond forbade himself to look at her breasts or do more than glance at the bareness of her exquisite loins. No, not for a moment or two, not until he regained some of his composure, he thought as he began to undo his cravat.

"A feast," he managed to rasp, before he partially turned his back and began to take off his jacket.

"Are you all right, Drummond?" Gabriella asked softly.

He would lie! He would sidestep, begin to talk seductively to throw a diversion, if he could retrieve any words past his passion-cramped throat. He would ... he would. Hell!

"I am overwhelmed," Drummond expelled, mumbling for the first time in his life. Then he turned, taking his shirt off as he did, thinking that he had best leave his pants on — perhaps through the entire encounter! Drummond glanced up at Gabriella, rather sheepishly, he supposed for him, and found that she was smiling. Actually, she was grinning, with warmth, love, and quite a dab of feminine power. The whole while she twirled the end of the chain with his passion pearl, bringing his gaze downward.

"I suspect that I deserve this completely," Drummond muttered. Another first, he never muttered.

"You do," Gabriella challenged with a sultry giggle, then she slanted one leg outward with her pink toes pointed, just so. She was posing for him.

"Gads, woman, you are merciless," Drummond proclaimed, and then he was there, pulling Gabriella down to her knees in front of him. "I am begging you, madame. I am begging you to let me touch your breasts."

Gabriella laughed, warmly and seductively, with a woman's innate power over her man. "My amour, I will die if you do not touch my breasts." Then, she surprised him yet again by lifting each of her breasts plump weight upward, offering them to him. Thrilling!

"Beautiful. Simply the most beautiful breasts that god has ever created," Drummond expelled, bending his head downward to lock his lips around the pinkness of one of her distended nipples.

"Drummond," Gabriella mewled, throatily.

Ah! He was back in control again. Drummond caught Gabriella by the back of her waist with one arm as she swayed and he suckle-bit the jutting and tight peak into his mouth.

"Oo god-god!"

"Mmm," Drummond purred, lifting Gabriella higher against him to take more of her nipple into his mouth, while his industrious free hand began shaping and molding the lush contours of her exquisitely shaped butt.

Gabriella nearly swooned. No man had ever put his mouth to her nipple before! Her husband had been wont to squeeze her breasts in a fashion she always imagined must be quite like milking a cow. But no man had ever licked her nipples, biting on the nips, sucking on the tight swollen peaks and sending bolts of desire straight into her loins.

Gabriella cradled Drummond's head in her hands, hitching her breast higher into the heat of his mouth as he tugged her lower body forward and flush against the hot skin of his tight belly. She could feel the sprinkling of his body hair crinkle against the exposed surface of her shaved loins as her toes pointed around either side of his hips. Gabriella ground her pillowed sex against Drummond's sinewy stomach in a primitive rhythm as he moved his mouth to her other breast.

"Amour-amour," Gabriella mewled low in her throat, feeling wild and abandoned, as though she could never get close enough to Drummond. Her fingernails scratched his muscled shoulders and down his back as his teeth nipped at the peak of her nipple with a recurring plucking motion.

Oh, dear heavens! "More," Gabriella mewled, quaking in Drummond's arms as he chuckled, his excitement and he gave her more, sucking the entire circle of her nipple into his hot mouth. Excitedly, Gabriella found the band of his satin evening breeches and began to try to tug them downward. She wanted his cock. Oh God, she wanted his cock! "Please, Drummond," she pleaded squirming with fevered passion against him, frustrated at her inability to lower his pants. To see ... to touch ... to feel! "Please!"

"God I love you, Gabriella," Drummond rasped as he broke away from her. But he gripped his large hand in her hair, gently tugging her head back, arching her neck up to him as he gazed down at her with his eyes sharp and lustrous in passion. "I am going to fill you, Gabriella. I am going to mate you in as many ways as possible on this table, until you are screaming your love for me."

"Yes. Yes," Gabriella moaned, as Drummond moved his hands to pull his pants down and kick them off his feet.

]Chapter Eighteen

"First," Drummond uttered as he grasped Gabriella's shoulders, pulling her to her feet. "We are going to do it this way." Drummond forcefully turned her away from him, then crowded behind her with one hand snaking over her hip, until he took hold of her naked loins.

"My god," he groaned, and Gabriella groaned with him, while her spine and buttocks undulated backward against him excitedly. "Bend over," Drummond rasped, not waiting for her as he pushed his chest along her back taking her down across the table. "Have you ever been fucked like this before, Gabriella?"

"Oh, God no, Drummond, please," she whimpered, catching wads of the tablecloth in fists above her head as Drummond's hands separated her thighs from behind and his fingers began to circle her clit. "Oh, umm-ummm," she moaned excitedly.

"That's it. Your orchid is so sweet and hot," Drummond murmured huskily as Gabriella felt the scorching head of his cock pushing against the quivering opening of her sex. "And, this begging little entrance is mine."

"Ohmygod," Gabriella squealed passionately as Drummond filled her with a searing, jarring thrust of his cock, lifting her feet upward as he pumped his massive organ inside her!

Drummond's cock stretched and stretched her tightly, filling her with blissful pressure and hot torrid friction. Then as he withdrew, she could feel his entire rigid length, like a molten rod of steel, until the plumper crowned-head nearly left her, and then he thrust forward again. "Ah-Ahhh!"

"That's it, kitten," Drummond panted. "Take all of me." Drummond pumped faster. "All of me."

"Oh, Drummond-Drummond," Gabriella gasped as Drummond started a staccato rhythm of thrusts, while his fingers smeared hot friction over her throbbing clit. With each rapid pump inside her, Gabriella's bottom rose upward, and her sex speared fire, until she could barely breathe.

Then, Drummond slowed his fast-flying thrusts, moving his fingers from her impassioned clit to grab her bare buttocks with both hands as he languidly stroked his thick organ deeply inside her, over and over again. The change of tempos was intoxicating and Gabriella squirmed on the length of Drummond's piercing column. Then, he changed position, leaning forward with his hands under her arms and his legs bent so his thighs pushed upward against the back of her thighs.

"Ohh, God," Gabriella mewled throatily as her bottom plumped upward against Drummond's taut belly with each solid and spearing stroke that he took.

"You are so tight, kitten," he uttered with labored breath. "Each time I try to leave you, you grab my cock back." Drummond started pumping faster. "So hot and slick." He rotated his hips in a circle with each thrust. "So passionate," he hissed, losing breath as his thighs slapped Gabriella's buttocks faster.

Gabriella's body slid back and forth on the table, riding her toes up off the floor beneath each of Drummond's powerful thrusts. "Rub — my clit ... Drummond ... please," she begged in breathless pants.

"Yes," he answered, and then he pulled the scorching heat of his throbbing cock out of her. Making her whimper at the loss, but Drummond lifted her instantly, turning her to face him at the same moment. His lips crashed down over hers and his tongue burrowed deep into her mouth as the momentum of his weight carried her spine onto the table. Instinctively, Gabriella lifted her legs upward with her inner knees catching Drummond's flexing and sinewy buttocks. Drummond tore his lips from hers.

"Rub your clit, Gabriella, and I will watch while I am filling you." Drummond straightened, hooking her knees behind each of his elbows, spreading her thighs open before him. Then the head of his cock was at her entrance, pushing inside her slowly. "Do it," he commanded with fire in his charcoal eyes.

"Drummond," Gabriella whimpered, arching her back upward as the sensation of Drummond pushing his cock deeper and deeper inside her made her pant with pleasure.

"Do it," Drummond commanded roughly again, as he pierced her fully with one powerful thrust!

"Ah! Ah!" Gabriella could barely breathe as her fingers found her feverish clit and she petted it, piling her breasts up into mounds between her arms as she stretched to reach.

"Yes," Drummond panted. "Your bare little pussy drives me wild!"

God, Gabriella was ravishing, Drummond thought ardently as he watched Gabriella's opulent breasts bouncing with each of his stabbing thrusts. He took the heels of Gabriella's feet up to his neck, holding her legs along his chest as he bent forward. He was sweating and he was on fire as he picked up the pace, pumping his jutting cock into Gabriella's contracting sheath of liquid heat that grabbed his cock back with each stroke.

Drummond turned his gaze to see his engorged shaft sliding in and out of Gabriella's tight vagina as she fingered her clit feverishly. This sight brought him so close to ejaculation that he had to strain to hold back. Waiting for his love ... his life, to climax first as he coupled Gabriella harder and faster and she began to unravel.

"Oh god-god, Drummond!" Gabriella cried, arching up off the table, quaking.

Drummond could feel the spasm of Gabriella's orgasm clutching his enamored cock in ripples so hot and tight that it drew up his balls as his vision faded and his belly clenched. "God!" He spilled his seed in an explosion of pleasure that shook him and continued with each slapping thrust he took. Each grind was rapture, gutting him until he could barely stand.

Finally Drummond slowed, dropping Gabriella's legs to his hips, his cock now limp, but still inside her. Drummond leaned his arms over Gabriella's shoulders as he tried to catch his breath and she began to rub his biceps languidly. She was a kitten stuffed with cream, so dreamy and sated were her lovely eyes. A woman well mated by her man. And what a woman, Drummond thought. God, she was worth everything to him.

However — he was not through with her yet, Drummond decided with an arrogant grin as he gently lifted both of Gabriella's legs to one side. Curling them up onto the table, while he pressed his hips forward, keeping his partially stiff cock still inserted inside her. Gabriella gave him an endearing, questioning look.

"Again," he stated.

"Oh, amour."

It was well after midnight when Drummond finally carried Gabriella upstairs. They were both nude and he smiled, thinking there was no one to see them. He would have to remember to give his servants the night off more often. He and Gabriella were both happy and well loved. It was a night neither of them would ever forget. He had taken Gabriella on the floor, in the chair, against the wall, and several times over the table, until they were both beyond replete. As happy as he was though, he still had not forgotten their need to talk. That and the present rumble in his stomach announcing its claim that he had gone without dinner. He was therefore pleased, upon entering their bedchamber, to find food waiting in a candlelight offering before the fire.

"Did you believe that I would starve you?" Gabriella giggled as she stroked his chin. "Although, I can see that I am absolutely no judge at how long these, um – affairs could take, and our food is surely somewhat wilted."

"Affairs," Drummond murmured as he nuzzled Gabriella's cheek. "As in loving my lady until her knees are weak?"

"As in that," Gabriella agreed with a smile, while Drummond seated himself in the chair with her in his lap.

"We shall simply have to salvage, madame," Drummond advised her as he leaned forward to take a cover from one of the dishes. "And, I am so weak you shall have to feed me," he finished looking down to investigate his find. "Apricot tarts! Kitten, how did you know?" Drummond exclaimed, with a deep purr of pleasure.

"I remember, Drummond," Gabriella replied sweetly.

Drummond turned his gaze to Gabriella. "You remembered," he barely whispered. He was touched.

"Everything, Drummond. Every detail," Gabriella replied, kissing his cheek.

"Lord, Gabriella." Drummond hugged Gabriella to him fiercely. "I do also. Everything ... through all these years." He swallowed hard. "I just could never fathom why you..." Drummond stopped at the tightening in his throat.

"Oh, Drummond," Gabriella exclaimed softly. "Drummond, I must tell you, I can see that." She embraced him tightly. "We were so wronged, my love," she finished in a whisper.

Drummond tightened his arms around Gabriella as he nuzzled his face into her hair. "Then, we shall eat while you tell me the story, my love."

"Yes, Drummond, I will tell you all of it."

The story of events Gabriella told was considerably short for all the wealth of sordidness it contained, Drummond thought sometime later as he lay on the bed. Gabriella had simply cried herself to sleep, tightly embraced in his arms. It seemed that no amount of assurances on his part could completely wipe away the guilt that she wrongly harbored. All over events that had taken place twenty-five years before ... nearly to this day.

Did Gabriella remember that, Drummond wondered gazing down at her, sprawled comfortably across his chest? Of course she did, he admonished himself angrily. What woman could neglect to remember being raped ... no matter how long ago it had been? Still, he could barely fathom it. Gabriella had been raped these many years ago by her only other suitor at the time, Reginald. She had been ravished in her own bedchamber in the dead of night. She had screamed, but no one had come. Of course not! Reginald had, had the key.

Gabriella had not revealed that piece of information to him, he had heard Reginald say it. Then there was Gabriella's father — that sick, sly, old bastard. Had he hated Drummond's suit of his daughter that much? It appeared so. At the time Drummond had only been the second son to a duke, not as fine a prospect as Reginald, who was the first son of an earl.

Greed? Could it all have been for greed, Drummond wondered? Greed of power and of position. He did not know yet, but he would. He would know every detail before he was finished and perhaps then allow this crime to rest. Possibly and nearly certainly he would find things even Gabriella did not know about because he now shared the guilt completely, even though he had not known of it for twenty-five years.

However, that was the point, wasn't it! How could he not have questioned Gabriella's sudden changing of affections those many years ago? How could he not have been more positive of their love and fought harder as a man convinced of that love? Nay, Gabriella had nothing to feel guilty for!

]Chapter Nineteen

Gabriella sighed happily. It had been nearly two weeks since she had confessed about the rape to Drummond and she need not have worried so, because these two weeks had become the happiest weeks of her life. At first she had been a bit surprised by Drummond's reaction, because he had not again mentioned the betrayal, nor had he mentioned it in all the two weeks past. Which was glorious with her, for she was living completely in the moment with no uncomfortable past or uncertain future.

Oh heavens, and what glorious now's they had been. She was discovering, much to her secret and unrepentant delight that she was utterly brazen. She could flirt and tease, demand intimacies passionately and seduce! Oh, and the places that Drummond insisted on carrying on their intimate liaisons. Why once in the kitchen, then the stables, another time in the gaming salon and once outside under an oak tree in the wide open ... and last night! She grew flushed just remembering. She had been so bold, so hedonistic perhaps, and with Drummond's encouragement, she had gotten down on her knees and suckled Drummond's beautifully aroused cock. All in the carriage as they were returning from a trip to the local village!

The heady part was that she had been able to drive Drummond wild. It was one of the few times that she had been in complete control of Drummond's passion. She adored it so much that she was already planning the next place to take him unaware. Mmm, Gabriella mused, lost in thought as she strolled toward Drummond's study. It would have to be anyplace but the bedroom. That was a must! Perhaps that oak tree-.

"What seductive mechanisms are you about, madame ... hmm?"

_Ohno._ Gabriella refocused her gaze to find herself standing by Drummond's desk as he rose from behind it and walked toward her. She must have been lost in her daydreaming, Gabriella thought as she gazed up at Drummond and immediately read his intent.

"But the servants," she protested. Someone had to be the least bit reasonable.

"Would never dare enter the room without knocking," Drummond stated firmly. Then, he oddly stepped behind her when she was expecting him to face her and take her into his arms. He was right however, the servants would not enter even though it was only midmorning, but she did think to mention.

"The Archangels?" They had been coming and going from the manor at the oddest hours for the past two weeks.

"Shall not be present again until this weekend," Drummond replied from behind her with a decidedly husky quality to his voice as Gabriella felt his hands grip her waist firmly. "Now if there are no further questions of propriety, my love." Drummond's warm breath fanned the nape of her neck from where she had piled her hair high on top of her head. "I believe that I owe you for your enthusiastic generosity last evening in the carriage." Drummond's tongue suddenly lapped the curve of her neck hotly, making her shiver in anticipation of the unknown.

"Bend over my desk, kitten, I want to lick," he finished in a low purring murmur.

Ohmygod. "Drummond, what will you do?" Gabriella asked, already breathless and quivering as she bent over the end of Drummond's desk, laying her cheek to the smooth wooden surface. Immediately, Gabriella felt Drummond raising her skirts, baring her bottom to his view because he allowed her to wear no linen drawers.

"Simply returning a gift, my love," Drummond murmured, and Gabriella could hear him shifting behind her. "Spread your legs apart for me, Gabriella."

"Oh, Drummond."

"Wider."

Gabriella did, feeling the cooler air caress her moist loins.

"That's it, kitten."

Gabriella nearly jumped out of her skin in anticipation when she felt Drummond's hands clasp each of her thighs beneath the curve of her bottom. It was maddening, yet completely arousing to not be able to see what he was going to do next.

"Amour," Gabriella squealed in surprise, coming up on her toes as Drummond's warm tongue licked right through the cleft of her pussy from behind. Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Drummond held her firmly, lifting her thighs upward and out as he buried his head deeper!

Gabriella wiggled up on her toes as she clutched her fingers around the edge of the desk, flushing hot and feverish with passion, while Drummond bathed her bare clit with rapid flicks of his tongue. "Uoo — oh, more," Gabriella mewled ardently as Drummond bent his neck and nibbled the flushed lips of her pussy with his teeth. "Ah-ah." Gabriella could not speak, she could not breathe! Drummond's tongue pierced her swollen channel with a stiff thrust! "Oh, Drummo–nd!"

Two of Drummond's finger pads circled her shuddering clit as he mated her with hot pokes of his tongue. Making her rock on her toes with sexy sounds gushing from her throat with each passionate jab. Then, he slowed, making her tremble and breathe harder, while she gyrated her bottom, back and forth in begging motions. "More, Drummond, more," she begged him shamelessly.

"My god! Excuse me!" It was a man's tenor exclamation behind them!

Gabriella squealed in shock and Drummond answered with a growling sound of anger.

"I never-never would have entered!" The man's voice exclaimed.

"Samuel!" Drummond expelled in an exclamation of pure surprise and not a little bit of irritation.

"Ohmygod-mygod," Gabriella cried, trying unsuccessfully to right herself from the desk. "It's your son!" she finished with a feminine squeal of mortification.

Drummond finally shook free of his shock and thought to help Gabriella from her more than ignoble position as he rose swiftly, tugging her skirts down.

"I'm leaving," Samuel choked, still from behind them.

"No!" Gabriella cried, clutching her hands to her face. "Oh God no!" she sobbed running past Samuel and out the doorway in a flurry of skirts and choked sobs.

"My God, father, I never ..." Samuel blurted, with his tanned face red with embarrassment as he looked at Drummond.

"You realize that I shall never seduce her into that position again, in another twenty-five years after this?" Drummond asked, wiping his mouth without a shred of remorse over the action or situation. Children and women, Drummond thought with aggravation as he strode over to shut the door, and then toward a hefty brandy.

"Aren't you going to go after her?" Samuel asked.

Drummond waved his hand negatively as he poured his brandy. "Not until she is done crying, son."

"Oh," Samuel mumbled, shifting uncomfortably.

Mmm, Drummond thought, Samuel never mumbles nor looks quite so vulnerable. Samuel was a strong and determined young man with a face and shape to match. Not many things disconcerted his son. Except perhaps, realizing in such a visual fashion that his father enjoyed sex ... lavishly, Drummond mused, allowing his irritation over the situation to relax.

"Would you care for a brandy, son, before you explain your unexpected visit?"

Samuel finally unglued himself from his pose of appearing about ready to quit the room at any moment and rolled his broad shoulders walking toward the sideboard. "It is quite early, sir, but I believe this is one of those moments of undeniable need." Samuel appeared, if anything grim as he accepted the brandy and downed the two fingers poured in one swallow, before he set the glass back on the sideboard, saying solemnly, "And, it seems that I have my first question answered."

"Perhaps your second also," Drummond mused as he walked behind his desk to sit. Now that he had a moment to contemplate, Drummond thought that he had a pretty fair idea of why Samuel might be here. It should prove interesting, to say the least, Drummond decided, settling back as Samuel took a seat in front of the desk.

"I imagine that I deserve this unfair advantage which I have cornered myself into," Samuel said tightly, looking for all the world like he was the reproving patriarch, instead of sitting in front of said patriarch. "But really, your grace, now that I discovered all of these sordid rumors I have been hearing are true. I just cannot believe ..."

Samuel paused, leaning forward from his chair to pin Drummond with and intense look. Here it comes, Drummond thought, stiffening and not a little disappointed. "What on earth has taken you so long? Good god, father, you've lived like a monk these past twelve years since mother's death. Unless the stories you've related to me about your spying ventures were not complete and I missed something?"

Drummond tilted his head to one side, rubbing his bottom lip with two fingers ... really to hide his surprise. "No-no," Drummond managed to say, while trying to recover beneath the enigmatic facade of his features. "I was most detailed to you in everything."

Samuel, still looking quite serious, leaned over the edge of the desk, resting his elbows there. "I applaud you, sir, and back you one hundred percent. It is just that I realized, I could better negotiate the scandal brewing, if I, um – had more information. That and I thought I should tell you that Tabitha sends her love and support also. In fact, sir, she has suggested a ball."

"You're both so certain that I have been honorable in all of this?" Drummond asked quietly.

Samuel smiled then, an immoral grin, with his dark eyes a bit sardonic. "Honorable, of course, sir, however I believe I shall neglect to tell Tabby how, um– honorably you have been addressing the situation."

"Scoundrel," Drummond reproached as he took a sip of his brandy. "However, in light of your unfailing support, Samuel, and I must say here, how much your good wishes mean to me." Drummond paused and leaned forward a bit, before he continued, "That I fully intend to marry Lady St. John when circumstances right themselves to allow me to do so."

"Then, it is just as I told Tabby," Samuel replied. "You have a plan."

"I am in the midst of creating one, you can be sure," Drummond replied sublimely.

Samuel chuckled. "Of course, father. Tabby and I always knew that Napoleon never stood a chance. And, I should tell you, up until now I have answered the rumors with a monumental amount of throwing your impeccable duke's title about."

"Mmm," Drummond murmured. "From this point forward I would ask that you rave, to anyone who will listen, the complete truth." Drummond paused. "Such as we see it, of course."

"Of course, father," Samuel said expectantly.

"And our truth you will receive from Radford," Drummond said.

"So you are treating this as a venture then?" Samuel asked.

"Exactly," Drummond replied.

"I certainly would not wish to be this St. John then," Samuel said. "The man does not stand a chance."

"Nor should he," Drummond replied ruthlessly, then he collected himself. "Nevertheless, tell Tabby that I believe a ball should be just the thing and tell her we shall hold it in London at Kittridge house."

"It shall be done, father," Samuel answered, then said a bit hesitantly for him. "Ah, do you think I should try and apologize to Lady St. John now or at some later date?"

"Later," Drummond replied. Much-much later, he thought, wondering how he would right this situation. Ah, well he supposed he would just have to fall back on being imperious.

]Chapter Twenty

Gabriella clutched her arms around herself, standing in the middle of Drummond's bedchamber. She was utterly mortified. Tears, scalded her cheeks as she moved her head from side to side in denial. _His son-his son_ kept pounding in her thoughts just as the words, _mistress ... tramp ... unworthy_ kept slamming through her with each distraught breath.

"They were right!" she cried, running to the armoire with no more thought than to escape as she grabbed her mink cloak. Not thinking of anything else in her emotional state except that she could not be Drummond's mistress, nor ever face his son again!

A long time later, while she sat shuddering in one of Drummond's coaches, on the road halfway to London, she wondered how she had accomplished so much. How had she managed to escape undetected from Drummond's manor? But, it was all a blur, the last hour or more. She had been so emotional, too emotional, but the pain of believing that she would not be allowed to spend her life loving Drummond, was akin to a mortal wound. It had unnerved her completely, made her hysterical and unthinking about anything but achieving her goal and that goal had been to escape.

So she had ordered a coach brought around saying that she wished to travel to the village and she had made certain that the hood of her mink wrap was pulled low to cover her tear-stained face. However, once at the village, she had imperiously ordered the driver to take her onto London. What could the driver do? He had to obey a lady of the realm. A guest of Drummond's.

Lord Kittridge's whore — Gabriella sniffled, wondering how she could have any tears left, then just as easily, she broke down crying again. When next she woke, having cried herself into literal exhaustion, it was near dark and the driver told her they were close to London, and then he asked where she wished to go.

"Take me to Lyndfall House on Mayfair," Gabriella told the driver, then she settled back on the carriage seat clutching her mink cloak around her. She could not seem to stop shivering. What was she doing?

Gabriella leaned forward again and tapped the roof of the coach, until the driver opened the small trap top. "I have changed my mind driver, please take me to, um – Lord Kittridge's residence here in London." She paused, "Y-Yes– that is where I will go."

Gabriella sat back after the driver closed the door, and she exclaimed, "Oh, what am I doing?" She clutched her hands over her cheeks and shook her head. She could not go to Lyndfall House, Reginald could be there and she could not go to Drummond's because it was not proper and what if some of his family resided there. That thought horrified her as she imagined herself saying, "Oh yes, you must allow me to stay, I am simply Lord Kittridge's mistress and he would wish it."

But, where could she go, Gabriella wondered miserably and now that she was calmer, after being so emotionally hysterical for most of the day, she wondered if she really should have left Drummond in the first place?

"That is just your heart speaking," she exclaimed, but of course it was, because she loved him with all her heart. Perhaps she should try a hotel? Except it would be truly unspeakable for a lady alone and unchaperoned to do such a thing. Only that meant that she had no place at all to go, for it was too dangerous for a woman alone to try to return to Drummond's estate at night. Oh why had she not stopped and thought! Why had she left Drummond at all?

Gabriella was so near to tears again that she had to mentally reproof herself. Tears and overly panicked emotions had gotten her into this mess to begin with. Being in love was just so emotional! Nay, having the only son of the man you love catch you 'en flagrant delicto ' was-was. Oh, what Samuel must have seen-!

"No," Gabriella exclaimed. "I will not proceed there again. I cannot bear it!" With determination, Gabriella brought herself around to her predicament and with shaky resolve she tapped the roof of the coach and said, "The Carlton Hotel, driver, take me to the Carlton Hotel."

Gabriella sat back reasoning that her reputation was long past existence, so it no longer mattered where or with whom she resided and tomorrow she decided, she would send a messenger to Drummond. Drummond would then help her, even if she could no longer stay with him, she was certain that he would. Drummond was the only person who truly would help her if only she had realized this earlier.

It really was not as terrible as she envisioned, to acquire a room at the Carlton. She simply had Drummond's driver procure it for her. He had been most kind, even concerned, saying that there was no way on God's green earth he was leaving her and he would be ready with the carriage in the morning to take her wherever she wished to go. His name was Bebington and he did gently suggest that she ought to return to Lord Kittridge's estate in the morning, where he proclaimed she would be much safer.

Bebington escorted her to her room, then he asked that she promise not to go anywhere without him. Gabriella did this faithfully before shutting the door to the room and locking it just as Bebington had shown her how to do. Once inside the room, Gabriella turned to explore because she had never been in a hotel room before. The fact was in twenty-five years of marriage, she had never been to anyplace but the townhouse in London on occasion, very few occasions, and the country estate at Lyndfall.

Gabriella realized immediately that hotel rooms were very lonely places and she found herself yearning for Drummond's warmth, his kisses and his lovemaking. She plopped onto the bed wondering what she could do, wondering how she could ever leave Drummond permanently or perhaps she might simply acquire a thicker skin. She certainly was much too sensitive. Or perhaps, Gabriella considered, she simply must develop a thicker skin concerning certain things ... such as an annulment!

If she truly wished to be with Drummond that was the only way it was going to happen legally. And being barren, she did have the perfect grounds for annulment if only Reginald would agree. Gabriella decided that she must think this through very carefully and calmly. She must think this through until she could speak to Drummond about it. Yes, that was it. She would speak to Drummond about it. Of course it would not solve the problem with Samuel, but she thought perhaps she could face Samuel better if she were sometime in the future going to be Drummond's wife. That is of course, if Drummond wished her to be his wife?

]Chapter Twenty One

Gabriella felt nearly human again an hour later, after a long bath and wrapped in one of the Carlton Hotel's fluffy oversized robes, and twice as foolish over what she had done. Then, she walked out of the large ornate bathing chamber, and right into Reginald! Reginald?

"Oh, my god!" Gabriella exclaimed, and she would have stumbled backwards, away from Reginald, had he not grabbed her upper arms. "W-What are you doing here?" Gabriella finished in a stunned shriek.

"Of all the luck," Reginald slurred. He was drunk! "To find me wife waiting for me. Ah-."

Gabriella pushed Reginald hard and he stumbled backward finding the wall, as she edged further away from him. Further into the room. "I am not waiting for you, Reginald! This is my room and I want you gone from here!" Gabriella paused, expelling a nervous breath as she watched Reginald unsuccessfully trying to tug down his atrocious green and yellow striped vest that reeked of perfume. Then, Gabriella cried, "I do not know how or why you are here, Reginald, but you must leave immediately!"

"Oh, no, no," Reginald, slurred, "Tis fate. You want me." He stumbled. "And, came to me. The very same hotel. I found out when I came in."

So that was how, Gabriella thought, wondering at the luck of picking the very same hotel where her husband was staying. He must have mentioned the hotel to her sometime in passing for her to even think of the name and he must be quite serious about the lawyers not allowing him into Lyndfall. Or should she say her home, as obviously now appeared to be the case. However, none of this explained how Reginald had gotten the key to this room! And, the very persistent fact that this seemed ominously reminiscent of the past was enough to give Gabriella a healthy shiver of apprehension.

Ohno! Reginald was tromping toward her! Gabriella drew away, backing up immediately, only that left her further into the room with no way out.

"Reginald, you must leave," she ordered sharply, holding out her hands as if to ward him away, which she desperately wished to do. "You-You, must not be here w-when Drummond returns!" That was it! A perfect lie, only now Gabriella saw that Reginald was shaking his head with an over bright leer in his eyes.

"He's not here, I asked!" Reginald sneered.

"R-Reginald, you must remember that you do not want me! You sold me ... remember!" Gabriella tried anxiously, wondering what happened at the Carlton Hotel when a woman screamed, because she was going to this time.

Reginald suddenly lunged at her, and it was then that Gabriella realized how very close the bed was behind her retreat. She landed on it hard with Reginald's heavy and breath-snatching weight on top of her. She tried to catch her breath and did beat on Reginald's shoulders as he levered himself on top of her trying to wedge her knees open!

"I want an annulment!" Gabriella screamed. "An annulment, do you hear me!"

"No!" Reginald snarled, grabbing at her flaying hands, pushing them aside. He clutched the edges of her robe and wrenched the top open. Gabriella screamed then, shrilly and with terror, but it did not stop Reginald. "You are going to give me what you gave Kittridge!" Reginald thundered.

Gabriella struggled, tossing her body from side to side, because her arms were caught helplessly in the robe sleeves. She thought frantically to somehow unbalance Reginald. Anything to get away! She would not let this happen again. She would not!

"No-noo," Gabriella screamed as Reginald used one hand to grope her breast roughly, while he tried to kiss her, which she avoided by frantic twists of her head. Gabriella could feel Reginald fumbling with the buttons of his pants!

"You are my wife! And you will submit!" Reginald snarled in horrific slobber over her lips.

Gabriella's mind splintered then, it was all happening just as it had twenty-five years before and there was no one to stop Reginald, just as there had been no one before. Except herself! Embolden, angry, and more defiant then she had been in her entire life, Gabriella groped down between their twisting bodies, and then she nearly laughed hysterically when Reginald thought she meant to stroke his cock.

"Owww! Oww!" Reginald suddenly screeched, and then he lunged to the side as Gabriella continued to viciously scratch his balls with her long fingernails. "Owwww, you bitch!"

Gabriella rolled off the other side of the bed, paying no attention to her dishabille, as she grabbed the foot long candlestick from the night stand. The candle fell to the floor as she went after Reginald with a furious screech of her own! She caught Reginald at the end of the bed, where he was still partially bent over, clutching his balls.

"I hate you!" Gabriella screamed, and without an inch of remorse she swung the candlestick underhanded, toppling Reginald over onto the royal blue Aubusson rug where he rolled into a fetal position.

"No no," he groaned.

"Reginald Horatio St. John!" Gabriella screamed as she pulled back from her underhanded swing, readying for another attack. "I will dismember your cock from between your bloody legs if you do not give me an annulment this minute!"

"No-no!" Reginald screeched.

"No!" Gabriella cried shrilly as she started to swing the candlestick forward with all her might only to be stopped by arms grappling her from behind. It was then she heard a masculine voice yelling at her.

"Lady St. John — Madame!"

Gabriella was too incensed to care that it was Drummond's son, Samuel, who grappled her arms from behind. She unwittingly struggled with the effort to strike her husband once more while Reginald lay, curled into a ball, weeping on the floor.

"Let me go, Samuel!" Gabriella huffed in a shriek. "Just let me bloody his balls!"

Samuel only grunted behind her as he lifted her. Her churning feet came up off the ground as he began a stumbling backwards gait. "My lady, you are magnificent, but I cannot allow my father's future wife to do mayhem!"

Drummond's running stride came to a halt at the open door to the room, where he immediately saw a bare-breasted Gabriella struggling to be released from his son's arms about her waist. Samuel tried to cart the lady backwards, from her apparent wish to clobber her husband, yet again.

Drummond's labored breathing strained through his lungs. He had run from the lobby. Hell, he had run a horse near to death from his estate to get here, and while running down the hallway he had heard his charming lady-love screeching about bloodying Lord St. John's balls, of all things. The worry inside him had been wound so tight, he simply could not help it, not after seeing Gabriella was safe. He started to laugh! Nay, he started to roar!

"Father, really," Samuel groaned. "Can't you help me here?"

Drummond bent over at the waist, and laughed harder.

"I will give her the annulment, I swear!" Reginald cried. "Just don't let her damage my balls!"

Drummond nearly choked as his laughing increased.

"Drummond, is that you, Drummond? Are you laughing at me?" Gabriella cried indignantly.

Drummond could not see clearly through the tears filming his eyes as he waved his hand in their general direction. He had missed Samuel at their London house by only a few minutes after the message from Bebington had come and Samuel had left immediately for the Carlton. Samuel managed to get here first without the knowledge that his father was directly behind him riding hell bent to London chasing his lady love. My god he would secure his driver Bebington's retirement by what he would pay him in thanks for leaving word at his London home of where Gabriella was.

"So this is what it is like to be in love," Harrison said appearing beside Drummond. "Reduces fine men to tears, m'lord," he finished with a sublime sneer.

"What," Drummond straightened and tried to catch his breath. "What are you doing here?"

"Following the malefactor of course," Harrison drawled in a rasp with his dark-eyed gaze playing over the scene.

"Of course," Drummond replied regaining most of his composure. "Then you should not mind hauling St. John out of here." Drummond turned his gaze to Gabriella who had fixed her robe snugly back around herself, while she literally glared at her husband who was still whimpering in a bundle on the floor. "And, make certain that he gives you written agreement to the annulment that his wife has battered out of him."

Harrison actually grinned, saying in a whisper, "Dismembered cock ... did you teach her that, Drummond?"

Drummond casually grabbed his side to keep from laughing again, as he badly stuttered, "No-no, not me." Then, he said in an aside, "I'm not sure he can walk."

They both nearly burst out laughing again, as Harrison murmured, "Protect your crotch, old man."

"Oh god, Harrison," Drummond huffed, trying not to laugh as he watched Harrison go and retrieve St. John with Samuel's help. It was then Gabriella came running up to him, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Oh, Drummond, I never should have left you!"

]Chapter Twenty Two

A Wedding Night...

"You owe me many boons, my lord," Gabriella said with a throaty purr of satisfaction as she eyed her muscular captive. The twin sinewy mounds of Drummond's tight naked buttocks filled her gaze as she decided that her dainty hand could not possibly smack those muscled rumps hard enough to make them sting — certainly she would hurt her hand!

"While I am enthralled to be tied to the bed for your pleasure, kitten ... and I might add, the sum total of all boons I owe to you. I still wonder why you would position me face down, wife?"

"Husband, do we have a riding quirt anywhere in this bedchamber?"

Drummond jerked his head to the side to gaze at Gabriella. She was completely not listening to him, he could see, as his mind jolted over the reason his new bride had swindled him into this helpless position. Ye gads, the woman intended to swat his naked...

Instantly, Drummond's bare buttocks tensed in reaction as he swiveled his head to watch Gabriella searching the room for a ... Quirt? Drummond flexed his bound wrists, testing them. No, he was tied securely, just as he had allowed himself to be. Champagne! He had drunk an entire bottle with Gabriella at their wedding dinner — shit!

"Kitten? Hmm, are you going to spank me?" Drummond asked in a rumbling tenor. A man needed to keep his voice commanding in a situation such as this. Didn't he? Hell, he didn't know. He flexed his wrists again.

"Yes, amour," Gabriella called with a muffled sound, because she was rummaging through his clothing closet. "And, do you know, Drummond?" Her head popped out of the closet. "I feel syrupy all over just thinking about it. Is that how you feel when you contemplate spanking me?"

_I am doomed_ , Drummond thought as he dropped his nose, poof, onto the mattress, where he mumbled an incoherent response.

"I thought so," Gabriella called happily from inside the clothing closet, where he could hear her rummaging around and where, devil take him, he knew of three ... count them, three riding quirts to be had! Drummond began to pray foolishly that she would pick the short brown one, because it looked much less threatening to him than the others. Didn't it?

Then, Drummond started to think over the two times in the months before their marriage this afternoon, when he had playfully spanked his lady-light. However, it was that first time, the one in the very beginning that really worried him. He bounced his forehead off the mattress a couple of times, vowing never — never, to drink champagne again, even if it was with his beautiful and blushing bride...

"Found it."

Drummond's head jerked upward. Ah, Christ, it was the long black one! He watched Gabriella sauntering closer with a vexing hip swinging motion that was all woman. It did not help one bit that she was completely nude down to her shaven pussy with his glossy passion pearl bouncing off her luscious pink pussy lips. And damnation, Gabriella was fondling the black knobbed riding crop as if it were an impassioned cock! Drummond tensed more from his erectile cock beneath him, than from anything else. Christ, she was beautiful ... and he recited in his mind, she was his, all his!

Gabriella wondered whether she really ought to complete the actual spanking of her husband's very tight and virile buttocks. He was so exciting tied there to the bed with the roped muscles of his back drawn upward by his arms stretched over his head and with his gaze trapping hers with predatory intent. A gaze that promised retribution once she released him. Gabriella sighed headily ... sensually as she toyed with the riding quirt, watching Drummond very slowly and very deliberately lick his full bottom lip, while he gazed at her completely shaved loins.

"You are going to reap your revenge on me if I do this, amour, aren't you?"

"Hmm," Drummond murmured. Then, he twisted his arms across each other, allowing him to roll over onto his back. "I was, kitten. However..."

"However, what amour?" she purred, completely transfixed as the quirt fell heedless to the floor and her gaze filled with the sight of Drummond's engorged erection. His cock was massive with a ruddy pink coloring and strident veins swelled along its jutting length. The entire male column bucked in reaction to her climbing up on the bed.

"I have resolved, madame, that I am yours to do with as you please. Just as you are mine to do the same," he replied as he intently watched her tongue dart outward to lick his nipple, then circle it slowly.

Gabriella felt Drummond shiver beneath her tongue as she smiled and murmured against the tight pebble. "Very brave for a man tied by his wrists to my bed."

"Our bed," Drummond puffed in a tenor rumble as Gabriella nipped his taut nipple between her teeth. Her hands spread outward over the hilly muscular slopes of his chest and he finally groaned in excited pleasure.

"Our bed," she murmured in agreement, crawling over him with one leg on each side, to ride her bared loins against his lean rippling belly. The sprinkling of hair on his stomach feathered her sex erotically as she purred a moan, rising upward to brace her hands on the mountains of his breastplate. She could feel his cock's rigidness, poking along the crease of her behind.

Drummond felt his eyes dilate in sexual hunger as he lifted his head. "Give me your nipple, Gabriella. Let me suckle you."

"Oh, Drummond," Gabriella sighed throatily as she fell slightly forward with her hands supported on the mattress above his shoulders. Her back was arched, thrusting her exuberant pink and cream breasts at him. She undulated her sexy and dewy-hot pussy over his navel, while he took her fragile, yet stiff nipple between his lips with a longing groan of his own.

"Amour-Amour," she cried in reaction to the toying pluck he repeated over the tight swollen peak.

"More," he demanded, sucking the entire pink areola between his heated lips.

"Ohh, my amour," Gabriella purred gustily, as she sinuously rode his belly, while he devoured her pillowed breasts back and forth, one by one, until she was crying passionate cants deep in her throat.

He was hot. No, more correctly he was wild. The fact that he was tied was heating him in some unfathomable way and he stretched his wrists often to feel the bonds holding them as he made love to his wife's breasts. And when his lady-love pulled her breasts away from his mouth and began to kiss and sensuously lick his body, he quivered.

Drummond was entirely defenseless against whatever Gabriella wished to do to him and it heightened his arousal. He was helpless against the moans of pleasure escaping him as Gabriella licked and nibbled hot love bites all around his belly, the top of his thighs, and even made him turn, more onto his side so she could munch great big kisses and bites all over his butt. He was bucking forward by the time she finished this and his body was shuddering in excitement, but still he managed to barely hold himself back from begging her to take his cock into her mouth.

Drummond watched Gabriella's heavy-lidded gaze linger over his straining cock from where she knelt between his thighs as his gaze burned hers with sexual fever. Slowly ... so slowly she dipped her tongue forward lapping the head of his cock and making him groan feverishly as his head fell backward and he thrust his hips forward. The motion embedded his thick engorged cock deep into her mouth and he could feel himself pulsing against her tongue.

Drummond shivered with the intense will to hold back his release as his precious wife had her way with his cock. She suckled the entire length, until he was arched like a bow and left panting in pure ecstasy. When she finally lifted her rosy swollen lips from the head, he was quaking.

"Turn on your side, amour," Gabriella ordered huskily. And he did, a willing slave to anything she desired. "More," she commanded as she lay down beside him with her spine pressed along his chest and her bottom snuggling closer to his groin. "Don't move," she warned, and Drummond was held suspended as she bent her upper body in an L from his chest. He felt her creamy hot vagina sucking at the head of his cock as she pressed backward and took his shaft inside her to the hilt of his rigid swollen length.

"Oh, amour," she squealed in happiness and intense frictional pleasure Drummond imagined, because he was holding back his own incredible squeal. "Don't move, my amour," she warned again breathlessly.

God, he wanted to. Drummond wanted to pump so badly that he was sweating with the effort to remain still to his lady-loves command. But heaven was his wife, because she began to undulate back and forth against him in a fantastical rhythm.

"Oh, God, Gabriella!" Drummond belly-roared in blinding ecstasy.

"Again!" Gabriella, his love, his wife — his lady compelled, commanded breathlessly.

"Oh, God," Drummond groaned.

"Carpe diem, amour!"

_The End_ _._

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Read an excerpt from My Lady Enslaved, By Shirl Anders

_Tricks._ Damnation it had to be an act. "I am sure you remember, the Duke of Kittridge ... Lia," Harrison finally rasped. He would not call her lady or mademoiselle or any other genteel reference, he argued with himself. "Refill his drink," he finished with a harshly issued command.

"Y-Yes, my lord ... your grace," she murmured faintly to both of them, coming forward hesitantly toward Drummond.

The firelight did wicked things to the red silk skimming along her ivory flesh, in curves and hollows of sleek femininity. She could well have been naked for all it covered her lush buttocks.

"My lady," Drummond murmured with a slight bow as he offered his glass, then he turned an arched eyebrow to Harrison.

"You are ...." Harrison snapped harshly. "The same man who spanked his, now, wife's naked bottom in the hallway of his country manor. Are you not?"

"Really, Harrison," Drummond muttered irritably, making Harrison smile lethally in satisfaction of a point well taken. But Drummond continued. "I do however, _have_ a wife now. One whom I love and who would not take kindly to my having viewed any other delectable feminine form but hers."

Harrison dropped his chin to look down at Lia's dark head from where she stood next to him trying to pour whiskey into Drummond's glass. However, he could see that her hands were shaking too badly, and she was making a spilled mess of it. When he reached forward to take the decanter away from her, she cried out softly as though he might strike her as she stumbled back. It was then she looked up at him for the first time since entering the room. Her eyes were stormy with emotion. Fear, embarrassment, and some presence of deep yearning that held him arrested for long moments while he gazed into her dark brown irises.

"Yes, as I was saying," Drummond murmured. "I cannot carry on a conversation with a half-dressed lady."

Harrison reluctantly lifted his gaze and saw that Drummond had removed his black satin evening jacket and was even now placing it around Lia's slender shoulders. She did not look at Drummond though but instead looked worriedly at him as though he would berate the gesture. She was afraid and timorous of him, and for a single moment he nearly went forward to put his arms around her in comfort. He simply could not overlook the guilelessness in her gaze. If she was acting, then he was a fool in compliance to her act!

"Keep it," he uttered gruffly with a tilt of his head toward the jacket.

Lia's slight grateful smile nearly undid him as did her liquid brown irises. "Thank you, my lord," she whispered demurely, clutching the jacket tightly around her.

"And now, my lady, if you would not mind taking a seat. It seems you and I have some old adventures to reminisce upon," Drummond murmured behind them.

Harrison watched as once again Lia looked to him for permission and the open submissiveness of the action strangely touched a suppressed dark ache deep inside him. It was a moment before he acquiesced with a nod, allowing her to follow Drummond to a chair. And then it was a moment before he followed as a chimera of lust warmed his blood at the knowledge of the control he had over this woman. A fact more blatantly tangible in Drummond's presence, and an idea he had never fully considered the effect of before.

Of course he had dreamed of vengeance for two years since he'd been burned, and it was not until he had concluded that Lia Delconte was the traitor that he'd started to envision the methods of his revenge. At nights, in the haunting hours, under the influence of vast amounts of Scottish whiskey he would play idly over the many scenarios his revenge could take. Finally concluding the more personal the better.

Read an excerpt from the novel Vampire Lords of Blacknall Trinity from bestseller author Shirl Anders. A vampire regency romance novel available now.

Trinity caught the flashes of alabaster skin off to the left and in front of where he ran through the brambles. The woman's screaming had stopped many minutes ago, and he had to guess the foul beast hunting her had nearly run her to ground.

He veered his headlong sprint towards the glimpses of pale flesh he kept catching sight of through thickly-grouped trees surrounded by scattered bushes. His timing to reach the young woman before the vile monster leapt to kill her was too close to think he'd make it. The threatening roar he released was of a maddened vampire reverberating through the night air. The abhorrence would recognize his thundering challenge.

He heard the woman cry out... in pain this time. Instantly he smelled blood, as he bellowed, "No!" Then his large body crashed through a small opening in the foliage.

He realized too late he was moving much too fast to halt his forward motion, when suddenly the woman was there... as if pushed forward toward his unchecked momentum. He only had seconds to react and he grasped her against his body. Her long black hair whipped around them as he turned to take the brunt of an inevitable fall. He landed on his back with the woman piled on top of him. Then he heard the triumphant howl of escape from the foul beast fading into the distance.

Trinity held tight to the voluptuous young woman as he arched his back and shouted his anger at losing his chance to kill the abhorrence. "I _will_ find you!" he bellowed.

He became aware of the woman screaming as she thrashed on top of him. More powerful than her ineffectual attempts at breaking his hold, while she screamed shrilly into his ear, were the scents of her fresh blood, choking him. It was a quality of blood scent he'd _never_ inhaled before.

His savage and barely-controlled inner hunter snarled to life. Fangs punched past his lips as twin weapons, gluttonous for the smell of pure virgin's blood pumping from cuts on the woman's struggling body. Ravenous hunger clogged his throat as he'd not felt since he was a young and uncontrolled vampire. Then, before he had any hope of exerting his willpower over the sudden monstrous cravings, his body turned, flipping the woman onto her back. He landed, pouncing over her. His fangs ready to strike, while the veins in his body throbbed for the blood he could smell.

Why was her blood so fucking potent?

The animalistic snarl that lunged from his throat clashed with the woman's frightened sobs, and her wide eyes gazed up at him with horror polished in their depths. Her small hands pounded against his upper chest as her bare hips and legs thrashed, trying to push his body off. His hard erection beneath his britches pounded for her submission, ordering his hips forward to press the rigid length down into her soft center, crushing her lower body's struggle to a halt.

The woman whimpered in fear. Then she cried, "Oh no! No!"

The strangled animalistic sound he made choked the woman's cried words into panting silence, as if she believed halting any motion would make the vicious animal set to strike her miss.

Beth couldn't stand the predator's gaze of yellow eyes with red glints slashed in the centers. She whimpered with sheer terror, jerking her gaze to the side, clenching her eyelids. She'd seen the long white fangs and she'd heard the animalistic snarls that came from the beast surely set to kill her. First, a monster hunted her and now another apparition held her captive. Yet the powerful menace against her felt like a man with hands, arms, legs, and a heavy chest. She felt men's trousers along her bare legs, and she felt a jacket fallen open over her breasts. Was it a man?

_Why didn't it strike_? her mind wailed, as her breath heaved. Was this the beast that chased her? She thought not. But her questions and abject terror paled in comparison when she felt a hardened length pressing into her core... and what that foretold, nearly caused her to fall into hysteria.

"Don't move!" The commanding voice was a tense baritone with the aftereffects of a growl.

The appearance of human words so surprised her panicked state, she jerked her gaze toward the sound as her body quaked in reaction. Had someone come to save her?

_"Don't,"_ the beast above her commanded, "Move."

To hear the semblance of a human's voice in the world gone so mad made her hopes flare unrealistically. Yet they did all the same. She wanted to live.

"Trinity!" a man's voice shouted from the forest surrounding them.

The beast's head jerked upward to look over her head and away from stalking her with its blazing and vulturous, yellow eyes.

"Stop, brother! Don't bite her, Trinity!" the voice rang out from the distance.

Beth felt the air she held suspended leave her lungs as her hands flattened on the chest above her. _Bite her?_ She cringed.

" _Virgin's_ blood," the beast-man above her snarled viciously. "So potent you can smell it. _Never_ felt this hunger before!" His voice growled, making her whimper and squirm against him with the intense need to run.

"Trinity! Brother!"

"I _will_ fight it, Church," her beast-man vowed, half snarled, half shouted as his chest heaved into her chest. "Move away!" he yelled.

"For our mother!" the voice, called Church, returned.

Beth didn't understand anything that had happened that night. How could she end up nearly naked beneath a primal man-beast? So many things were beyond the comprehension of her innocent life. However, she did understand — or perhaps she wanted it so badly to be true — that the man called Trinity, imprisoning her, was trying to fight the urge to strike her. He couldn't be the one that had chased her through the night forest because that presence held a livid and evil malevolence toward her.

"I will rise upward and give you my jacket," the creature called Trinity said. His voice held strange inflections through the large fangs extending from his mouth. It also seemed he promised the action as though to convince himself.

Beth tensed more, trying to slow her panting breath, halfway certain he wouldn't win the battle as he began to rise upward. Then, with his arms locked on either side of her, he stopped moving, but his other worldly eyes didn't stop traveling. He looked over her face, and then he looked downward toward her bare chest. She gasped a squeal of embarrassment chasing her fear, as caution be damned, she jerked her arms between them to cover her breasts.

"You are very beautiful," his tense voice emitted lowly. His hand rose and she would have flinched away, but his gaze held her immobile. His fingers touched her cheek and they felt cold as he curled them and he stroked over the curve of her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

"Please," she begged for her life, and the red glints in his eyes seemed to dull within the yellow. His hand lifted to her temple and he did the most extraordinary thing. He wrote a cross upon her temple with his fingers.

"For my mother," he growled lowly.

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