Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

L ydia had certainly been right; the bastard downstairs could wait.

Now, with his face buried between her legs and his hands filled with her backside, Ezra was very happy that he had finally agreed to execute Lydia’s plan.

Ezra had been furious at his own stupidity and arrogance at thinking it safe to go into his room. His stupidity had nearly gotten him killed. He wanted the man in his dungeon to pay for that on top of the other crimes he’d already committed. But first…Ezra smiled as he turned back to the matter at hand.

Ezra let out a groan as he forced himself away from Lydia’s parted legs and rose to his knees, careful to keep his weight off his injured thigh. He let his hands slide around Lydia’s waist and, with ease, lifted her until she was on her hands and knees, her bum flush against his hardened manhood. His throat was sore from the rope and his voice was raw and aching. But that didn’t mean that they were not going to have a little conversation.

“You left,” he rasped, his hands tenderly massaging the flesh of her right and left cheeks.

Lydia gasped as his hands kneaded the sensitive flesh, moving the muscles back and forth before reaching up to grip her hips. Her gasp turned into a moan as his fingertips tightened around her waist and then slipped down between her legs. He touched the little taut bud of nerves tenderly, earning him another moan and a tremble.

“You angered me,” Lydia struggled to get out, squirming. “And you told me to leave.”

With her clitoris at the mercy of his fingertips, he struck her left butt cheek with the other, sending a crack through the silent air.

Lydia gasped and bucked against him at the slap, trying to twist around to look at him.

“That is not what I meant, and you know it,” Ezra replied, easily keeping her in place despite his injuries.

He let another slap land across her backside, this time on her right cheek.

“You know how I feel about you disobeying me.”

“Now?” Lydia gasped, beginning to tremble as she looked back at him, “You are going to punish me now after nearly getting killed?”

Ezra grinned wickedly, reveling the mixture of panic and pleasure in Lydia’s eyes.

“Now,” he agreed.

Lydia let out a strangled moan and spread her legs further as his next slap landed directly between her thighs and across her mons.

“You did save my life,” he admitted, rubbing soothing fingers across her stinging parts. “So, I will give you ten.”

“Ten what?” Lydia panted.

Arousal shot through his veins as he found her already dripping, and he couldn’t resist stroking a finger inside her velvety folds. The moment he did, Lydia’s back arched, and she moved herself into his hand, wanting more. Before he could lose himself and allow her, he pulled his hand away and delivered another slap to her backside.

“Ten spankings,” he replied as Lydia moaned, “For each cheek.”

He lowered himself down on top of her, letting his chest press into her back as his lips found her ear.

“And you will be counting them out for me.”

Lydia moaned once more as Ezra drew himself back, bringing her hips up with him so that her backside presented itself once more, and he let another slap ring across her left cheek. Ezra waited, giving Lydia a moment to try to find her breath and senses, and finally, he heard a breathy “One.”

Ezra reveled in the pleasure of her submission, letting his hands roam and grip whatever he wanted before he delivered another stinging strike.

“Two!” Lydia gasped, her body trembling now.

By the time they made it to the twentieth slap even Ezra was shaking with need. He barely let his ears register what he said before he gripped her hips and thrust himself inside of her. Lydia’s warm, slick walls gripped him tightly, all but begging for him as he began to move his hips.

Needing to see her eyes, Ezra was only able to hold the position for a moment before pulling out to turn her over. As if she had been waiting for permission to get off her knees, Lydia whirled on him, her arms wrapping around his back as she all but dragged him on top of her. Wanting exactly what she wanted, Ezra let her pull him in, and when he thrust inside of her again, they both moaned in pleasure.

“What will you do to him?”

Lydia felt Ezra’s fingertips pause on her lower back. As gentle as they probably should have been, their lovemaking had been heated and feral; both of them now sporting new scratches and bite marks that would now be blamed on the assailant in question. She had enjoyed the spanking immensely; much more than she probably should have; and had certainly enjoyed what came afterward.

But now that it was over, the assailant had been captured and they were both pleased with the proof that the other was alive and well, the question came to her: What was going to happen next?

“We think we already know who his employer is. We will question him, get his confirmation and a location, and then go find the bastard,” Ezra replied.

Lydia lifted her head from his chest so she could look down at him. Ezra was used to doing things a certain way and was no stranger to doing the dirty work himself. That was something she admired and accepted about him. But now, as she saw the toll such power took on him, she wished someone else would do it.

“Question him, how?” she asked warily.

Ezra’s blue eyes went dark, but his fingertips began to stroke along her back again.

“You need not worry about that,” he replied. “I will take care of him. Come, try to sleep.”

Deciding after all that she did not want to know what that meant, Lydia rolled onto her back, pulling him with her, and rested her head among the pillows.

“What is this?” Ezra chuckled, nipping at her right breast as he palmed the other.

“You need more sleep than I do,” Lydia replied, stroking her fingers through his dark, silken hair. “And I’m not going to go to sleep until I’m certain you are.”

She had nearly fallen asleep on his chest because of the way he was stroking her back, and she wondered, if the roles were reversed, whether she could do the same to him.

“How am I supposed to fall asleep when your breasts keep tempting me awake?” Ezra muttered mockingly, tugging at her nipple lightly with his teeth.

Lydia smiled, gasped, and writhed beneath his ministrations, but while he did these things, she continued to stroke her fingers over his hair, shoulders, and back.

“I do not need sleep,” Ezra stated, as he nuzzled his face between her breasts, nipping at the left one, “I just need these.”

“No one is stopping you,” Lydia laughed lightly.

His teasing nips and tugs and suckles were already starting to awaken Lydia’s arousal again, but even as she felt those familiar dewy drops gather between her thighs, she willed herself to only keep stroking soothing circles and trails into Ezra’s back and hair. Moments later, his objections to being tired began to fade. Next, Lydia felt his body relax further into her; his words forming into a mumbled mess as he closed his lips around her left nipple one last time.

“I know, my love,” she soothed, feeling her own body start to drift as soon as she heard Ezra’s soft snores, “You are not tired.”

Lydia awoke to an empty bed, but before fear could consume her, her eyes landed on the note waiting for her on the nearby pillow.

Ambrose and the others have arrived. We will be conducting our business below and you are not to interfere. Alice, Juliet, Helena, and Barbara are all waiting for you in the first-floor sitting room. We will join you when we can.

Please eat something.

E.

It was by no means a love letter, but the use of the word please along with the words eat something somehow made her stomach do a little flip. She nuzzled into the pillows and inhaled deeply, capturing his scent, and felt the flip in her stomach melt into a pool of desire. She missed him; missed the feeling of being in his arms.

Lydia smiled as she recalled the way he’d fallen asleep. Sometime during the night, he had shifted, his warm body wrapping around hers like a cocoon of muscle and protection. She’d awoken only long enough to nuzzle her head into his arm and lace her fingers through his after he’d wrapped his arm around her waist and then had dropped back into a deep sleep.

“There you are!” Alice gasped as Lydia walked into the sitting room a brief time later.

Her sister shot up from her seat and flung her arms around Lydia as the others quickly followed to do the same.

“Here I am!” Lydia gasped, her chest tight from all the embraces. They all finally let go and she dragged in a deep breath.

“Where did I go, though?” she asked, as she took in the concerned looks on their faces.

Barbara was the first to huff and drop her smile.

“You tell us,” she replied, crossing her arms. “Where did you go yesterday that made Ezra think that you were with us?”

Lydia’s cheeks flushed with red as she realized just how much trouble she had caused by taking her little ride yesterday, and she offered an apologetic smile.

“I guess I have a lot of explaining to do,” she replied as a maid came up.

“Pardon me, Your Grace,” the maid said softly with a curtsy, “But His Grace left orders that you were to be served immediately once you joined your friends. We have your breakfast ready for you at the table.”

Lydia flushed once more, remembering the note he’d left her. Had he even gone so far as to talk to the servants about it?

“Is Ezra tracking your feeding habits, sister?” Juliet teased.

“Of course not,” Lydia laughed.

“Then why is he ensuring that you break your fast?” Barbara asked.

Lydia made a face at her friend’s annoyingly amused smile and replied, “I…well, he is just…”

“She is turning red,” Juliet giggled. “Tell us, sister, has your marriage with him been…” She wagged her eyebrows as she dropped her gaze down Lydia’s figure.

“Juliet!” Lydia exclaimed but could not stop her smile.

She turned an accusing eye toward Alice and Helena, who both wore an expression of shock and amusement.

“You two have been giving her those filthy books to read, haven’t you?” she asked.

Alice pressed her lips together tightly as a blush bloomed over her face.

“Well, I…” she stammered, wringing her hands together, “Well, you have read one and you know how, um, detailed, the scenarios can be. And, you see, I, um, thought…”

A nervous laugh broke through Alice’s stammering. Lydia had never seen her sister this flustered before.

“Out with it,” Lydia coaxed, looking from one friend to the next.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, the books describe what to expect during marital relations better than any speech you could have given her about consummating a marriage,” Barbara said, her words rushing tightly together.

“And you have been so busy,” Juliet said, offering her a timid smile. “I know, you wanted to have the “talk” with me a little more properly, and I thought we’d have that opportunity in London, but…”

Her words trailed off, and Lydia’s cheeks blushed a deeper red for an entirely different reason. The last time she had seen Juliet was the day they had seen Sophia slap Ezra. Little did any of them know that less than half an hour later, she had been consummating her own marriage in the rain and the mud of Mayfair public park. Arousal coursed through her at the memory of how they had gone from being furious with each other to tearing off one another’s clothes.

It had been exciting, taboo, thrilling; everything the “talk” she had given to Alice before her wedding and would have given to Juliet was not. Still, she felt a sense of guilt that Juliet had hoped to speak with her first. It was her duty to help prepare her for such things, and she had failed.

“Darling,” Lydia said apologetically, taking Juliet’s hands, “Forgive me for not making more time to help you prepare for your future life. You know, perhaps it is best that I did not give you that speech. I believe Alice was right about that. There is more, so much that happens between a man and a woman than I could have ever described from my previous perspective.”

Lydia heard her unintentional confession slip from her lips before she could stop it, and immediately turned red.

“Um, anyway the food is getting cold, perhaps we should…”

“ Previous perspective?” Juliet asked, her voice rising into a squeak of excitement on the final note.

“Oh, good heavens, I am not going to talk about this,” Lydia laughed, going to the table.

“Our husbands are in the dungeons right now questioning an attempted murderer, should we not be more concerned about that?”

“No,” all four of her friends said in unison.

Lydia gave them a pleading look and they ignored it.

“You and Ezra actually like each other?” Barbara asked, hurrying to take a seat by her side.

When Lydia only smiled and began to butter her toast, Barbara gasped and added, “Oh, my God, you drive him mad, don’t you? You minx! You secret little minx!”

“Oh, like you were any better?” Lydia laughed, “Was it not you as well that swore off men? Yet you have shared some delightfully wicked stories of Ambrose and how you make him go cross-eyed.”

“ Please do not share them now,” Helena pled as she and the others came to the table.

“I won’t if Lydia shares her details,” Barbara answered, wagging her brows.

“No one is sharing anything of the sort,” Lydia replied as firmly as she could.

“Now, I will share the details of where I went yesterday and why, and the events leading to such, but that is all.”

“Will you at least tell me in private?” Barbara whispered at her side. “I have to know what he is like .

Lydia rolled her eyes, smiling, and reached for her tea.

“No more, please,” the man begged.

Blood dribbled from his lips, nostrils and several cuts on his face. His powerful body, the one that had knocked Ezra into his weapons, now hung limp, bruised, and sweaty; his arms outstretched and hanging by chains and thick, iron cuffs.

“I imagine if I had begged you for that last night you, would have ignored me,” Ezra replied calmly, washing his bloody hands in the nearby basin.

The man groaned.

“I thought as much,” Ezra replied, rubbing his hands dry with the blood-spotted towel.

He tossed it onto the table where his friends now sat, then turned on his heel to deliver a left hook into the man’s jaw. Blood and a tooth flew from the man’s mouth with a pained cry as his head shot to the side. Ezra caught him by his hair and yanked him up, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“We have not even started the interrogation yet,” he said calmly, his rage pouring off him in palpable waves, “This is simply retribution for my wife.”

Still holding firmly onto the man’s hair, Ezra cuffed him hard with his other hand.

“Your wife?” the man choked out, more blood splattering over his beard. “I did not touch your wife!”

“Was she your next target?” Ezra asked, forcing the man’s head up again.

The silent, swelling panic in the man’s brown eyes was all the answer Ezra needed. He raised his left leg swiftly and kicked the toe of his boot forcefully into the man’s testicles. A scream erupted from the man’s lips as he tried to buckle into his chains and catch his breath, then proceeded to vomit from the intensity of the kick.

“Terrence,” Ezra called, taking a step back.

Terrence, a young man of the guard he’d hired who showed potential, came hurrying up to him.

“Yes, Your Grace?” he asked willingly.

“Clean him up, will you?” Ezra asked casually, nodding his head at the groaning, mess-covered man. “I do not want to get too filthy before we begin.”

Terrence quickly agreed, all too happy to fall under Ezra’s mentorship, and Ezra walked back to the table where a pint of ale and a fresh basin of water were waiting for him.

“You think he’s going to deny working for George?” Ambrose asked Ezra.

“Of course he is,” Duncan answered dully before Ezra could reply, “He could have started confessing any time after we’d arrived, but he chose to remain silent. Whatever George has on him, he’s more terrified of that than he is of us.”

“Still no word on where he is?” Morgan asked. For once, he was not joking. In fact, in this room, his entire demeanor had changed.

“None since he was spotted here in Frampton a few days ago. He could be hiding anywhere now. This horse’s arse is the only lead we currently have to find him,” Duncan replied.

“I don’t know where he is,” the man called out as Terrence scrubbed at him.

“You were doing well with the truth before,” Ezra replied chipperly, “Let us not start lying now. And I would be quiet if I were you. This is the last bit of relief you shall get until we are satisfied with what you tell us.”

“Well once we get George, then what?” Morgan asked, “Turn him over to the constable? Do we even have enough proof?”

“We will make him confess,” Ezra replied simply, wrapping clean strips of cloth around his knuckles, “and then we will make him pay.”

“He is clean, Your Grace,” Terrence announced.

“Very good, thank you, Terrence,” Ezra replied in a cheery tone.

“You are in a strangely good mood for someone who was nearly murdered,” Ambrose noted, giving Ezra an odd look.

“Oh, I am,” Ezra agreed, walking up to the man again, his eyes bright with retribution.

He tilted his head slightly as he took in the man before him. Terrence had done his best to clean him up but no amount of washing could hide his sorry state. He would talk. One way or another, Ezra would get what he wanted.

“Now then,” he practically purred, grabbing a fistful of the man’s hair, and yanking his head back, “Let us start with something simple. What is your name?”

“Thank you, Terrence,” Ezra said politely, taking the clean shirt he held out to him.

His other clothes, filthy with the blood, spittle, and tears of his detainee, were now burning in one of the nearby pits. Derrin, the man they now knew as their hired hitman, was unconscious and unchained, lying in a heap on the floor of his cell. He would live. After a time, he might even be able to walk again.

Since Ezra had been the one attacked, his friends had agreed that he should be the one to handle the interrogation and he had to admit, the process was very satisfying. After he’d gotten the information he wanted, Ezra had shed his clothes and washed himself right there, not bothering with modesty as his friends sat nearby, discussing their next move. They had learned a great deal, and though no one was getting too excited, it seemed that the balance of power had now shifted firmly to their side.

“So old Georgie is holed up in a brothel basement outside of London,” Ezra sighed, taking a seat. “Admittedly, one of the last places I would have thought to look, but I am still a little disappointed in his lack of creativity.”

“We need to make a move soon,” Ambrose stated, tapping on the table, “It has already been nearly a day since Derrin attacked you. George was probably expecting him to return hours ago with a report. He might already be on the move again.”

“Let us fetch him and bring him back here. We do not need a public scene,” Ezra stated.

“Not here,” Ambrose stated, rising from his chair. “It was hard enough bringing Helena and Barbara here just knowing that pathetic excuse for a man was down here. Furthermore, I do not want to risk any of them catching a glimpse of this bastard.”

“Very well,” Ezra agreed, “The gaming hell, then.”

They all nodded in agreement and stood up.

“What about him?” Duncan asked, throwing a look of disgust at Derrin. “I know you have guards, but I am not leaving Alice and Beau here alone with him.”

“You are right,” Ezra agreed and beckoned Terrence to come forward.

“Grab a few more guards and gather him up, will you?” he asked, “We’re taking him with us.”

“I will stay down here and help with him while you three go up and say your goodbyes,” Morgan said, hanging back as the others began to leave.

Ezra heard the badly hidden tone of longing in his friend’s voice and doubled back as Ambrose and Duncan continued their way upstairs.

“Do not fear, Morgan, one day you will have a wife to say goodbye to as well,” Ezra said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Morgan smirked and muttered “bastard” as he shook off Ezra’s hand.

“I am serious, old friend,” Ezra said.

The emotions that had irked him so badly before, no longer seemed so terrifying as he gave Morgan a calm, understanding look. He had been satisfied that he could call back that tall, imposing black wall of numbness when it came to interrogating Derrin, but now he was relieved that it was beginning to fade away and make room for something better.

“You will find her, and you will be all the better for it,” he said sincerely.

Morgan looked at him curiously, one brow moving high as the other went low, and took a step back.

“Christ, mate, you have changed,” Morgan said in awe.

He looked back up at Ezra and simply asked, “Lydia?”

Ezra tilted his head in acknowledgment, and Morgan swore under his breath.

“Well, I hope you are right, mate,” Morgan sighed, rolling up his sleeves as the guards filtered in.

“I am,” Ezra stated, then clapped him on the shoulder one more time. “Now don’t take long. We will meet you at the carriage.”

Upstairs, Ezra found the others gathered in the foyer. He spotted Lydia at once, her face lighting up as she saw him approach, and his chest grew tight as he opened his arms to embrace her. She went to him immediately, and Ezra felt the ring of bruises around his throat burn as he gathered her close and kissed her.

Lydia’s hands smoothed over his chest, his shoulders, and his hair, as if once again proving to herself that he was alive, and he held her tighter. No one had ever cared for him the way she did, he realized, placing another tender kiss on her lips before letting her rest her head against his chest.

As he looked up, Ezra took in his other friends. Duncan had Alice wrapped tightly in his arms as little Beau cocooned between them and wrapped his tiny arms around both of their necks. Ambrose had Helena and Barbara squeezing him tight, a fearful look on both of their faces as he held them tightly to him. A few paces away stood their nanny with their four-month-old son, Titus.

I want this, he realized, watching his friends holding and kissing their loved ones. The image of a little girl wrapped in Lydia’s arms suddenly made his heart so full he could hardly breathe, and he felt his bruised throat struggle to swallow. Could he? Could he actually have a family of his own?

“Everything will be fine,” he heard Ambrose say.

“You don’t know that” Barbara hissed, still holding him tight. “Let the constables handle him!”

“This man was able to hide for nearly twenty years,” Ambrose replied patiently, “He was not able to do that by himself. Until we get a solid confession out of him and understand who’s dirty and who’s not, we are on our own.”

“Ambrose is right,” Lydia said from Ezra’s arms as she turned in them.

Ezra looked down at her in awe as she drew her chin up and looked around the foyer at the worried faces surrounding them.

“We have to let our men do this,” she went on, “Justice was evaded for so many years. It is time they were allowed to receive it.”

Their arms still wrapped around their families, Duncan and Ambrose both gave Lydia a nod of appreciation. A moment later, Alice, Helena, and Barbara were letting the two of them go.

“If you die I will find a way to bring you back just to murder you myself,” Barbara warned Ambrose.

He smiled at her brightly, then gave her one more passionate kiss.

“I expect nothing less,” he replied, his tone full of affection.

“And no more scars for you, you hear me?” Alice said, giving Duncan a warning look. “You have given enough. Do not let this man take any more from you.”

“I would not dare go against your orders, my love,” Duncan replied sincerely, cupping her face in his hands.

“And you,” Lydia said, tugging Ezra’s face back to hers once more. “No more stab wounds or strangulations. Understood?”

“Only punches,” he teased, tapping his still bruised nose.

“I mean it,” Lydia whispered, pressing herself to him one last time.

“I know you do,” he replied, his tone growing sincere. “Trust me, Lydia, it is not us that is going to be harmed.”