Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

“ S ay it again,” Ezra demanded, his voice as deadly and hollow as his gaze.

Morgan, Duncan, and Ambrose exchanged tired glances before they collectively looked back at Ezra in defeat.

“We’re sorry, mate,” Morgan replied, his tone full of remorse as he gave Ezra a pitiful look.

“We misread you and your intentions,” Duncan admitted, looking gravely serious.

“We should have thought better of you,” Ambrose chipped in, shaking his head, “We should have simply spoken with you first.”

It was the day after the masquerade ball and although Ezra and Lydia had only been expecting Duncan, Alice and Beau, every member of their peculiar little family had arrived. Lydia had immediately taken the women and children with her to the gardens to give the men their privacy, but Ezra had caught the worried look on her face right before she left. After last night’s accusations from Alice and Duncan, both were wary of an impending coup.

An apology, though, was something Ezra had never expected. Ezra looked steadily at his friends, taking a moment to enjoy the regret and shame on their faces. They had jumped to their judgments too quickly, and even if it was just for a few moments, he wanted them to wallow in that misery.

“Bloody hell, old boy, you are torturing us,” Duncan said with a tense laugh. “Forgive us, will you?”

“Let us get back to who we were,” Ambrose insisted, leaning forward anxiously in his chair, “Before all of this. We are brothers. This is not how we should be.”

Deciding that he had tortured his friends enough, Ezra picked up one of his pens and tossed it at Ambrose.

“Of course, I forgive you, you twits,” he remarked when Ambrose jumped at the pen hitting his chest. “Who else is going to let me beat them to a bloody pulp when I need a row? Just do not behave like such idiots the next time.”

A collective sigh of relief seemed to pour out of Ezra’s three friends. As they all stood up to converge on him they let out rueful laughs.

“I remember a time or two when you were bested,” Duncan retorted mockingly, though the relief was clear in his eyes.

He reached out his hand to Ezra, and he allowed the strong, customary handshake.

“And I remember thirty or forty times when you were outdone, my brother,” Ezra remarked.

Duncan let out a deep chuckle as Morgan made some sort of jest about a wick-dipping tour and Ambrose tried to bring up an issue with one of their ventures. Ezra felt his earlier discomfort dissipate as he began to jest with his friends to reinstate the earlier balance in their relationship. Trust was not something they would earn back all at once by any means, but for now, he was willing to let them attempt to do so.

“Now Morgan, what is this about a wick-dipping tour?” Duncan mused as they all settled back into their seats, a friendly whiskey now in everyone’s hand.

Morgan’s eyes lit up as the subject came back around, and he tipped his glass toward Ezra.

“Indeed! I have chartered a course and decided that I shall be “dipping” into every port along the way,” he explained, pulling out a folded paper from his jacket pocket.

With a quick unfold, the small paper laid out into a large map with several red circles along the coasts of Europe.

“It will be a masterful play,” Morgan said with gusto, “And you are coming with me!”

Ezra was not sure if it was he or his friends who were more surprised at his curt expulsion of laughter, but he rode out his rare display of emotion and gave one of his usual bored shrugs.

“Count me out for this one,” he retorted, returning to his seat behind his desk.

Ambrose and Duncan shared a look while raw disappointment flooded Morgan’s expression.

“Oh, come off it, mate, I know you want to join me! We have not taken a trip like this in ages! And now these two cannot go because they’re “happily married”, so it only leaves you and me. Remember what happened the last time we took a trip like this?”

Ezra smirked, recalling it vividly.

“The courtesan in Venice in the red lace?” He offered, and in that moment, every man in the room developed a dreamy, far-off look in their eyes.

“She was lovely,” Ezra continued, “But might I remind you, I too, am married.”

“Yes, but not happily,” Morgan retorted.

Ezra let a small, side smile touch his lips as he shook his head at Morgan. Though he was not the youngest of them all, Morgan was still the most boyish. It was nothing new for him to pout a little when he was not getting his way, and Ezra used the moment to tease him.

“Now, now, we have all just made up,” he chastised Morgan, “Let us not fall apart again over one of your little tantrums.”

“Watch it, mate,” Morgan said bitterly, crossing his arms.

“Perhaps it is you who should watch it,” Ambrose joked, punching Morgan in the arm playfully, “Happy or not, no married man wants to be caught planning a trip like this behind his wife’s back.”

“I think they might actually be happy,” Duncan mused.

A raucous laughter came from Morgan and Ambrose rose a doubtful brow.

“Well come on then, brother, tell us!” Morgan goaded, “Have you become a man in love? Will you and Lydia be popping out children as well?”

“I assure you, gentlemen, nothing will be ‘popping’ out of me any time soon,” Lydia stated, announcing her presence.

Morgan, Ambrose, and Duncan’s heads all swiveled rapidly toward the door, missing the smug smile that drew across Ezra’s face. She threw him a quick wink that ignited a stirring in his groin. He flashed his teeth as he pushed his chair away from the desk to make room for Lydia and her tray of medical supplies.

“Whatever are you scoundrels talking about?” Lydia asked haughtily, her nose high as she walked elegantly toward Ezra.

From his seat Morgan flew at the map still laid out on Ezra’s desk, and in his hurry to conceal it he nearly tore the thing in two.

“We were just discussing a trip,” Morgan answered, still fighting with the map.

“And that involves something popping out of me, how?” Lydia asked coolly as she took the seat Ezra offered her.

“Yes, do tell her,” Ezra mused, unable to hide his grin. “I, too, would like to know the answer to this.”

Lydia met his eyes with a cheeky gaze before she put her focus on redressing the wound on his hand. Like before, her touch was delicate but clinical; kind yet thorough. He had shared with his friends what had transpired the previous evening, which had been the catalyst that had led them to their apology. They had already sworn to help him find out who it was, and why they had done it.

“Well, we were curious,” Ambrose ventured, throwing a tense look at Morgan and Duncan. “About when you and Ezra might have children.”

“Oh?” she said, raising her head to look at them. “And that is your business, how?”

“Well, not that it is,” Duncan stammered, looking worried, “we were just curious if…”

“And tell me, dear brother-in-law,” Lydia cut him off, “How quickly did you and my sister have children after you were married? I seem to remember it taking you well over a year to produce one, did it not?”

Color flooded into Duncan’s face, as well as Morgan and Ambrose’s, as the three of them grew quietly uncomfortable. Ezra had to muster all of his self-control to keep himself from grinning wildly.

“I thought you were the best-mannered out of all of them,” Morgan said bitterly, throwing Lydia an embarrassed look.

Lydia smiled sweetly as she finished changing the dressing on Ezra’s wounded hand, then turned to Morgan.

“I assure you that I am, Your Grace, but I am also the most ruthless. Do remember that when you make your little jests.”

Pride and approval enveloped Ezra as he watched Lydia rise from her seat and curtsy gracefully toward his friends.

“I believe I should be getting back to your wives now,” she said, continuing her sweet tone, “Perhaps, if I am feeling magnanimous, I shall refrain from telling them what exactly it was the four of you were discussing. A wick-dipping tour, was it not?”

Ambrose’s face paled considerably as Duncan suddenly turned an enraged look toward Morgan and threw a punch into his arm.

“Lydia, you must believe me, I had no part in this,” Duncan argued vehemently, turning back to her with wide eyes.

“Nor did I,” Ambrose added with equal desperation, “You know Barbara is not above murdering me for such an indiscretion, and you are equally aware that she’s wily enough to get away with it.”

“So, what I should be hearing is…” Lydia let her words trail off as she leaned an ear toward them and motioned for them to speak.

“Apologies, my lady,” the three men replied in unison.

“Very good,” Lydia praised in a condescending tone.

Once gone, Ezra’s three friends turned from the door and back to him, their faces pale.

“Jesus, mate, she is scary,” Morgan stated, slowly shaking his head.

“Was she always like that?” Duncan asked, looking at the door as if she might suddenly reappear.

Ezra didn’t respond as he watched each of his friends gradually pick up their bruised dignity and turn their conversation toward other topics. Eventually, he also found himself involved in their discussions in his usual quiet, monosyllabic way. But, as the jokes and jests resumed, Ezra could not help but think back to Lydia and the unflappable strength she so obviously possessed.

“Useless,” Lydia heard Ezra mutter as she opened the door to his study, “Utterly, unbelievably useless.”

Lydia cracked open the door a little more to peek inside and caught Ezra flinging a pen and then an inkwell at the wall. She flinched a little as she heard the glass shatter, but she gathered herself and strode in.

“Is this a new style of writing?” she asked, nodding her head toward the mess on the wall as she kept her eyes on him, “If so it looks quite enjoyable, and I should like to try.”

Though Ezra glared at her, she saw the tiniest spark of humor ignite in his eyes.

“Unless you are here to assist me I suggest you leave,” he said gruffly.

He was in no mood to play with her today; despite knowing the pleasure it always brought him. He was too annoyed with his injured hand, and the fact that they had not yet found his assailant.

“Then I suppose it is good that I am here to assist,” Lydia replied matter-of-factly, unfazed by his foul mood.

He watched her quietly as she gathered a new pen and a fresh inkwell from his cabinet before taking a seat on the opposite side of his desk.

“You cannot help,” he stated when she looked at up him expectantly.

“I do not see why not,” Lydia countered.

Ezra glared at her. Lydia had access to his accounts, yes, but only what he allowed Mr. Porter to show her. The issues he presently needed to address were of a different nature. These were in respect of the longstanding accounts that had belonged to his father, which he had slowly been balancing throughout the years since his death. He knew Lydia was aware of his late father’s debts; it was no secret, but he still did not want to show her the evidence.

“If I punish you would you still wish to see then?” he quipped back.

Lydia looked back at him evenly for a moment, then smiled sweetly as she got up.

“If you want to allow our success to slow down because of your wounded pride, that is your choice to make,” she stated smoothly. “But I, for one, have enjoyed the pace we have set, and would like to continue it.”

The challenge, the insinuation that he wanted to slow down, twisted his temper into something hotter. So, she thought he was weak if he refused her help, did she? Well. She would pay for that, he decided.

“I think I shall punish you and accept your help at the same time,” Ezra mused, standing up as well.

“And how do you propose you do that?” Lydia asked as he walked toward her. He took the writing utensils from her hand and brought them back to his side of the desk.

“You will indeed do my writing for me,” Ezra retorted, coming back to her.

Lydia attempted to step out of his reach as he grasped for her waist, but he caught her easily and grinned when she gasped.

“You will just be doing so from my lap.”

Lydia’s face paled before her cheeks flushed bright red and she fought his grasp. They had not discussed her reward since he had been assaulted; there simply hadn’t been enough time, but it had unlocked something new between them, and he knew they both felt it.

“This is absolutely preposterous,” Lydia muttered as she felt her backside being forced down onto Ezra’s lap. “I can write from across the desk!”

She truly had come in to help, but when he began to snap at her she could not help but tease him. It had obviously been a mistake on her part, and he wanted to prove to her that while she could compete with him, she could never win. No matter how injured, Ezra always seemed to have the metaphorical upper hand.

“Yes, but I would have to watch you write upside down,” Ezra countered lazily, his voice almost sultry in her ear, “that would be most annoying.”

“Yes, that is a true annoyance,” she scoffed, pushing with both hands at his good one locked around her waist.

She tried to wiggle free again but his fingers bit into her hips, stopping her with apparent ease. Ezra might be more compact than his friends, yes, but she was sure that he was by far the strongest.

“I highly suggest you stop doing that,” Ezra mused into her ear, his tone calm as he held her still, “Unless you actually want our work to slow down.”

Lydia immediately stopped squirming and allowed herself to settle on Ezra’s lap. From below, she felt something tap against her backside, and she blushed deeply once she realized what it was.

“Are you ready to help me with my task now?” Ezra asked, his tone teasing as his hands stroked up her waist.

“Yes,” she replied curtly, ignoring her blushing cheeks and racing thoughts. She did not want to tease him anymore, she decided.

“Very good,” Ezra praised in her ear.

She could hear the sarcasm and taunting in his voice, but she ignored the sensations his praise caused and picked up her pen. To her relief, Ezra’s tone shifted from sultry to serious, and as he spoke his desired words into her ear, she wrote them verbatim. Soon, her annoyance faded as she became ensconced in her task.

The rhythm and tone of Ezra’s voice were easy to pay attention to, and she found her body relaxing comfortably in his lap as she wrote one missive after another. Ezra also seemed to relax, for as he watched and guided her words, she felt his hands begin to smooth their way along her back and around her waist. Not in a tugging, demanding, or teasing way. It was as if he was touching her absentmindedly and it was soothing to him.

Curious if that was even possible, Lydia allowed his touch to continue but noticed an immediate effect. It was distracting. Normally she was able to hear every word Ezra spoke; his deep voice and seemingly effortless eloquence made it easy to do so. But, as his hands continued to caress and massage the muscles of her back, it became impossible for her to continue paying attention.

Lashes fluttering, Lydia closed her eyes to the soothing pleasure of his touch and let the pen fall from her fingertips. As soon as it hit the desk, a burst of ink shot forth onto the letter, creating a deep, black splatter among the words, and Ezra’s hands ceased their seduction.

With a jolt, Lydia blushed as she reached for the pen with one hand and the nearby cloth with the other.

“Is this boring to you?” Ezra asked.

His hands had stilled at her waist, and she felt his fingers tighten there as he pressed her back down into his lap.

“I…no,” Lydia stammered, suddenly feeling feverish.

She mentally reached for her wit but there was no sarcastic remark to be found.

“I…I am so sorry, I do not know what happened,” she apologized.

She moved to turn in his lap, but he stopped her and slowly turned her back until she was facing forward again, and her back was flush to his chest.

“I can be a patient man from time to time,” Ezra replied.

His lips were closer to her now, caressing her outer lobe with each word he spoke. With one hand still anchored on her waist, he rose the other to the ties at the back of her dress and slowly pulled the strings loose.

“Fetch another sheet of paper from that stack of vellum over there, and we shall begin again.”

His tone was patient, but she still picked up on the slight lilt of amusement beneath. This time, though, instead of annoyance she felt a burst of arousal in her lower belly.

Taking a steady breath, Lydia moved the ruined letter aside, pulled a fresh sheet of paper from the vellum as commanded, and picked up the pen again.

“I think I might know what happened last time,” Ezra whispered as she felt her dress being pulled down her shoulders.

She shivered at the brush of air against her bare skin, and instinctively pressed into him. Instead of letting her linger there he gripped her biceps and made her sit forward just a little, revealing her back.

“Please explain,” she managed to say, her eyes fluttering as she felt her corset strings coming loose, “for I cannot seem to get my mind to work correctly.”

Ezra chuckled into her ear; a low, taunting sound as his fingers slipped up the back of her corset and slowly pulled so that the many crisscrossed strings would release as one. Relief poured through her as she felt the pressure on her breasts and ribcage release, and she could not help the moan that left her lips.

“You poor thing,” he purred, his voice dripping with mock pity as he splayed his full hand against the nakedness of her lower back and began to press upward.

Like a feline, Lydia moved her spine with his touch, and when he ended at the nape of her neck and circled his fingers there, she let out another helpless whimper and shivered. Yes, right now, she was a pitiful thing, and she could not deny it.

“You are not used to such multi-tasking, it is obvious,” Ezra continued, stroking his thumb along the left plane of her neck as he moved her back to his chest again. “Therefore, some education simply needs to be provided.”

His hand slipped around the front of her throat then, his grip firm but gentle as he moved his other hand to lightly trace the line from her throat to her navel. Large, dewy drops of her juices began to slip from Lydia’s petals as his fingers made lazy circles around her navel, and she found herself pressing her thighs together even tighter. As she did so, she felt Ezra’s member throb once more against her backside.

“This type of learning is best absorbed through application,” he continued calmly as her mind continued to unravel.

He then pressed a kiss to the tender spot below her ear, and she let out a soft cry. How could a touch so soft be so intense? So powerful?

“ Shhhh ,” he soothed, moving his hand over the one that held the pen. “You’ve proven exemplary at everything else you have shown me. I am confident this will be no different.”

His grip on her hand tightened then, and he let his lips trace down the nape of her neck and up again before he whispered more adamantly, “We will do this over. And over. And over again, until you complete your task perfectly. Do you understand, Lydia?”

“Yes,” she whispered quickly, her grip tightening on the pen.

“Good,” he praised, his voice thick as he moved her hand to dip the pen into the inkwell.

“Now, let us begin again. And this time, no matter what I do, you must not allow yourself to become distracted.”

“I am starting to think you are making mistakes on purpose,” Ezra teased, pinching Lydia’s right nipple.

He was rewarded with another delightful sound from her throat as her hips squirmed in his lap. As it had done for the last hour, the sensation made him grit his teeth and thrust his hips in response.

“Well, you are making it quite difficult to succeed!” she gasped, then moaned as his rigid length thrust against her glistening mons.

Though he still had trousers on, her juices had coated through the fabric, making it wet and uncomfortable around the head of his manhood. The combination of pleasure and discomfort was driving him mad, and he was beginning to lose patience with this lesson.

Lydia had been deliciously responsive to his touch; so much so that at times even the barest scrape of a singular nail made her gasp. In truth, he too had become distracted at first. Fascination and wonder had overtaken him several times as he traced lightly over her bare upper body, and he became entranced with watching every movement and hearing every sound she made.

He remembered that she was pure and completely untouched. Ezra let the pressure from his hands gradually grow firmer and his touch became increasingly sensual. No man before him had ever touched her or seen her before he had. He truly was her first for everything.

So, he had been gentle at the beginning, allowing her to become accustomed to his touch, his voice. But, as her writing grew steadier, his grip became harsher. His slow kisses transformed into scraping teeth and sharp nips, and his gentle fingertips began to intermittently pinch or lightly slap.

“I suppose I am being a little unfair,” Ezra admitted, releasing her nipple from his firm pinch.

Lydia whimpered as he quickly began to knead and massage the bruised, sensitive bud back to life and felt another splash of her juices spread across the crotch of his trousers. He hissed in a breath at the sensation, and for a moment he paused and leaned his forehead against the sensual contours of Lydia’s back.

He had started this game to punish her for disobeying his commands, but now, as he felt ready to explode, he realized that he was punishing himself vastly more than he could ever chastise her. He needed the game to end if only to remove himself and find relief, but each time he attempted to pull his hands away, he found he could not.

His fingertips were fused to her flesh as if melted onto it, and his grip became desperate despite his mental protests to let her go.

“Let us end this lesson, Ezra,” Lydia pleaded from his lap as his hands continued their possessive exploration.

“I cannot take it anymore. I cannot write the letter. I was wrong for disobeying your order to leave you alone. I am sorry I did not leave when you told me to.”

The pleading in her whimpering voice as well as the apology itself sent a shot of arousal so intense, so deep, through Ezra’s groin that he felt his seed release of its own volition. Unable to help himself, unable to do anything but allow it to happen, his hands gripped her tightly to him as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, and he groaned out his relief.

Pleasure racked through him as his rigid member pulsed over and over, but he barely had a moment to feel sated before his frenzy began anew. In fact, he did not even soften as he pulled Lydia off of his lap to turn her around and make her straddle him; and he knew she felt the evidence as her knees brushed up against his sides and he locked her to him.

He wrapped his injured hand around her neck and brought her lips down to his, kissing her possessively until they were both breathless.

“Say it again,” he commanded, grinding himself into her.

“I am sorry,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering as her hips rose and fell with his.

“I am sorry, husband,” Ezra corrected bitingly.

“I am sorry, husband,” Lydia moaned obediently.

A growl of approval ripped from Ezra’s chest as he pulled her in for another kiss.

“That’s my good wife,” he rasped, pulling away from the kiss.

He turned her once more, so she was facing the desk and pushed the pen into her hand.

“Now you will write this letter. Repeat what I say so I know you are hearing me.”

Trembling, Lydia dipped the pen into the inkwell as Ezra’s fingers found her mons beneath her skirts.

“To Lord Reginald Hammond, Earl of Rayburn…”

Lydia’s voice came out soft and trembling as she repeated his words, but she was able to legibly write out the greeting. Ezra thrummed his fingertips against her sex; a reward for the accomplishment, and he continued, ignoring her gasp.

“It was both a privilege and an honor to have…” Ezra’s fingers began to stroke small, lazy circles into Lydia’s taut bundle of nerves as he forced her to write and repeat each new sentence. This time, with his hand between her legs, Lydia seemed more determined than ever to carry out her task properly.

“Regards, Lord Ezra Fernside, Duke of Frampton,” he finished, his fingers now moving at a fevered pace.

Lydia moaned and writhed as she shakily drew out the last letter in his name, and as she let the pen fall to the side, Ezra drew her closer to him and thrust his two fingers inside her wet warmth. Satisfaction poured through him as Lydia’s hips rose, her back arched, and the back of her head fell into the crook of his shoulder as her body spasmed with release.

Unable to help himself, Ezra bit down on her shoulder once more as he began to thrust his manhood against her wetness. To his great surprise, Lydia’s hips began to move with his, as if wanting to help him release. Too weak to resist, Ezra released his teeth, running his tongue over the sore mark, then kissed and lapped up her neck as Lydia allowed him to meld her body completely to his.

They had not discussed the reward he had given her at the masquerade ball. It had been for her pleasure, yes, but what she had not known was that it had pleased him as well. Now that the tables had been turned and it was his mercy in her hands, he suddenly realized that she wanted him.

As he moaned into Lydia’s back, his release shot out from a place deep within him. She moaned with him too, which only made his erection throb harder as he continued to spill. For a moment he let himself become lost in her as he absorbed every sensation. Her black cherry scent, the buttery softness of her skin, and the sensation of the combined rhythm of their hips, even as they slowed, was delicious. Intense. Too intense.

The realization dawned on him gradually. As addictive as it was to drink all of Lydia in, it was too much. Feelings, strange and uncomfortable, rose in Ezra he stilled Lydia’s hips and pushed her gently from his lap.

“Ezra,” Lydia panted, slowly turning on wobbling feet. She lasted just long enough to find a seat on the desk and collapsed. “We have to talk.”

“Why?” he said gruffly, shoving himself out of the chair.

His legs nearly gave out as he stormed to the opposite side of the room, and the show of weakness only made him more uncomfortable. What the hell had she done to him?

“You disobeyed an order, you were punished,” he said simply. “You learned your lesson, therefore the punishment is over.”

The sleepy, sated look that had covered Lydia’s beautiful face vanished, and shame colored her cheeks as she began to dress herself.

“That was more than just a punishment, Ezra,” Lydia replied, “It might have started out as such, but it turned into something else. I thought we were just going to keep this a business relationship?”

“This is a business relationship,” he fumed, but Lydia only scoffed.

Already he missed the whimpering, pleading Lydia that had just been in his arms, but it was clear from the way she glared at him that the fearless older sister persona had fully resurfaced. It suddenly hurt him to receive that look from her, and he immediately hated the feeling.

“Right, and is that how you reward all of your business associates when they do a job well?” Lydia asked, her tone defiant.

Ezra set his cold, dead stare upon her but she did not so much as flinch.

“And when they do poorly? Is that the punishment you give them?”

“Lydia, enough,” he growled, taking a step back as she came toward him.

He had never felt like this before, ever. Like a caged animal with no means of escape. What was this damned woman doing to him?

“We provoke one another,” he said in a forced, dull tone, “You cannot deny it, and neither can I. Perhaps today our taunting and teasing went a little too far, but that is all.”

The fresh memory stirred through him, and he couldn’t help but let his eyes rake down her once again. She had fixed her gown without a helping hand, and it was poorly fitted and sat on her in a way that made him want to rip it off again.

“You made it clear on our wedding night that you did not want me, yes?” He demanded to know.

Lydia’s brows drew into a hurt, slightly guilty expression, but she nodded and replied, “I did, yes.”

“Precisely,” he said, in a clipped tone as he finally felt the customary numbness begin to stretch over him.

“But Ezra,” Lydia pushed, “you are… there has been something different about you.”

“There absolutely has not,” he growled defensively, feeling his shoulders rise with tension.

He took a deep breath through his nostrils and slowly let it out, as he came to a calculated decision.

“I am going to London for a few days,” he said curtly, dragging his eyes away from her.

“You should not go alone, it is too dangerous…”

“That is none of your concern,” Ezra cut off Lydia’s words harshly.

Unable to tolerate their close proximity any longer, he strode toward his office door and flung it open.

“You should invite your sisters over while I am away,” he said coldly as he walked out, “You will finally have something to tell them that will confirm their worst fears.”