Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

L ionel felt as though a weight had been lifted from his back. After the revelations of Menzies Lennox, Lionel had sent the man away to find himself breakfast at the castle. The papers he had brought which showed Thorpe's business interests, carefully concealed, had been locked away for safekeeping. The safe was too heavy to be lifted easily and would be impossible to open without key and combination. Assuming one was able to find it in the long-abandoned mill, to begin with.

For the entire night, Lionel had remained in his sylvan hiding place, rocking back and forth, brooding on this new information and the light it shed on Thorpe's motivations—or rather, his own entire life. On his father's legacy, on his view of the Dukedom. On the reality of what he was now toiling towards—the utter destruction of his only kin. That truth had been a millstone, like the one that lay forgotten in a corner of the room, buried beneath soil, leaves, and brambles. It had taken an age for him to eventually submit to the song of slumber and he was soon dragged right out of it by a lonely voice outside.

Now, he gazed into Cecilia's soft brown eyes and felt unburdened. Could he truly trust her? If she was in league with his enemies, then what he had told her would only serve to tell Thorpe… his half-brother , that Lionel was on his trail. He found himself reaching up to stroke her cheek, savoring the feel of her soft, perfect skin.

"I have learned to keep my circle of trust close and select. I think the staff of my household are the only ones in which that trust is currently bestowed upon, and even then, only two men have my complete confidence, and only one knows what I just told you."

"I know it is no use to simply ask that I be added to that trust circle," Cecilia murmured. "But I hope my actions will show you."

She reached up to take his hand, straightening his fingers so that his palm lay across her cheek. She closed her eyes and Lionel felt a shiver run through him at the look of sheer delight on her face. Such delight from a simple touch to the cheek. And yet it was the same thrill that he felt, touching that cheek. She opened her eyes and he saw the shining desire there. Saw his own passion reflected. There was a flush now to her cheeks, spreading to her neck as her breathing came faster.

"You now have information that only one other has, besides myself. With it, you could give advantage to my enemies by telling them what I know. Or by leading them to this place where I plot my revenge."

Cecilia's lips parted, her face moving closer to his. His hand went from her cheek to her lovely throat. His fingers closed partially around it, savoring the feeling of power it gave him. She looked up at him, biting her lip and letting her hands fall. She was helpless before him, utterly in his power, and if he was any judge, utterly entranced at the prospect.

"Then secure your secret and keep me here, a prisoner," she whispered huskily.

The flush deepened as she spoke, as though she had shocked herself at her brazenness. Lionel's lips twitched into a smile and he saw a tentative reflection from Cecilia.

"A prisoner?" Lionel asked. "Would you be tied to the wall in here? At my mercy?"

Cecilia let out an involuntary gasp, a whimpered squeak from the depths of her throat. Lionel intended to let his hand fall, but instead, it came to rest upon one of her breasts. He pressed through the dress, recalling how those breasts had felt. He felt a sudden, urgent need to see them, unclothed by darkness as they had been before.

"Yes. If that is what you wish. Keep me prisoner and… and use me as you desire."

Lionel could feel his body responding to her wanton words. He had never heard a woman speak like this. From her shining red face, Cecilia was also new to it. But, novice or not, it was as though she were reaching into his mind and plucking images from his deepest fantasies. Cecilia was now pressed against him and his hands were gliding down her back before finding the gentle swell of her hips and derrière. The image of her olive-colored skin under the revealing glare of daylight came to him as he explored. Her buttocks were round but with the tightness of a woman well exercised. Pressed against his own he felt the strong thighs of a rider, thighs that had clamped around his waist weeks before, shaking with the agony of her ecstasy. Her pert breasts were hard against him, nipples evident even through the fabric of her dress. Lionel knew that his own arousal would be evident to her. As his body responded with increasing intensity, he felt her breath catch in her throat. Then her hips pressed against his own even harder than before.

"Am I being seduced by a spy for my enemies?" he whispered.

"Perhaps the spy has been bewitched by your body and your masculinity," Cecilia replied, playfully.

Unable to resist any longer, Lionel bent his head to kiss her. But Cecilia leaned back, placing a finger on his lips. He took the finger between his teeth, tasting her skin and biting gently. She gave a squeal, pulling it back and Lionel darted in, mouth fastening on her throat, kissing and licking. She moaned softly, arms wrapping around him and holding him tight.

"Then you have become my plaything, utterly under my power, your own will subsumed. I can command you to do anything…" Lionel whispered.

"Anything!" Cecilia gasped as he bit her throat.

"Undress," Lionel commanded.

As the week before, his passion and desire for her overrode his paranoia. The burden was too much. The burden of keeping secrets and keeping her at arm's length. The freedom of being able to speak freely was as intoxicating to him as the lust he felt for her.

Cecilia stepped back, watching him from beneath heavy lashes as she reached to the back of her neck to begin undoing the buttons of her dress. Lionel said nothing as she managed to undo it and push it down to her waist, then beyond that to fall to the floor. No sooner had it left her that she bent to pick up the hem of her petticoat, lifting it and revealing the white stockings, concealing her legs to the thigh. The garment was tossed aside to reveal bare breasts and womanhood. But she did not stop. She slowly rolled down each stocking before flicking it aside with her toes. All the while a smile played across her face, part seductress, part innocent. Her cheeks were flushed, even as her eyes sparkled with delight.

"I told myself I would not give myself to you again until I had your word that we would be man and wife proper," Cecilia whispered.

"I have taken that choice away."

He moved around her, examining her naked loveliness from all angles. Stepping close enough that she would be able to feel his warm breath on her skin, he nevertheless refused to touch her. Instead, he watched her twitch and jump as she anticipated the first touch. Anticipated and was denied.

Lionel stooped to lift one of her stockings and, as he passed behind her, he suddenly looped it around and over her eyes. She raised her hands towards the makeshift blindfold.

"Hands down," Lionel snapped, "by your sides."

She obeyed instantly and that submissiveness made Lionel's arousal almost painful. He was driving himself to distraction with his prolonging of their coming together. After doubling the stocking over her eyes to make the material opaque, Lionel stepped back.

He quietly moved around, watching her breasts heaving with excitement. Without warning, he leaned in to enclose one of her nipples within his mouth, sucking on it and caressing it with his tongue. Cecilia squeaked again and then moaned aloud. She began to raise her hands to touch him, but he thrust them down and then pinned them behind her with one strong hand. Picking up the second stocking, he swiftly bound her hands together behind her. She whimpered and he kissed her, darting in to steal and then darting away, leaving her licking her lips for the taste of his own.

Lionel began to undress, saying nothing until he stood before her naked. Then he moved close, letting her feel his nakedness with her own. His loins melded with hers and she moaned aloud before gasping his name. He gripped her derrière, his manhood pressed between them, announcing itself to her with its hardness. She moved her hips obediently against his, in the motion of love-making. With each thrust, the movement became desperate and more pronounced, the gasping moans rising from her more urgent.

Again, Lionel sought to prolong the pleasure. He stepped back again, walking behind her. Cecilia's head turned this way and that, searching for him. Lionel let her feel his touch when he reached down, fingers slipping beneath her thighs to find her womanhood.

"Bend," he commanded.

Cecilia obeyed and he watched her bound hands clench and unclench as he caressed and delved. With his other hand, he reached around to cup her perfect breasts, tweaking her hard nipples. She was gasping in short, frantic bursts in between whispering his name.

Without warning, he seized her about the waist and lifted her, bearing her to the desk where he laid her on her back. With insistent hands, he parted her legs and his lips replaced his fingers in giving pleasure to her. Cecilia was bucking and writhing on the table now.

There came a tearing sound, and suddenly, her hands were free. She ripped the blindfold away and lifted her head. Lionel looked up at her without ceasing his lapping. She clamped both hands on his head, burying her fingers in his hair. His tongue moved with deliberate strokes, each one drawing a gasp from her lips. He felt her body quiver beneath him, every tremor urging him on. His hands roamed over her, grasping the curves of her body.

Finally, when they could take it no more, he moved up, positioning himself between her thighs. She arched towards him, desperate for the connection. He entered her in one swift motion, a gasp escaping both their lips at the sensation. He began to move, slow at first, each thrust deliberate and deep. Her legs wrapped around him, urging him on. He picked up the pace, the sound of their bodies colliding filling the space around them. Each thrust was met with a cry from her, her nails digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer, deeper.

Lionel shifted, moving both her legs to the side, changing their angle. "Beg for it," he growled, his voice thick with desire.

She whimpered, her breath catching. "Please, Lionel… I need you—" she gasped.

He didn't need to hear anymore. With that, he thrust into her with a new intensity. Her body arched to meet him, her moans louder, more desperate. He grabbed her hips, pulling her against him with every thrust. The sensation was overwhelming. Her fingers clawed at his chest. Their movements were frantic, primal.

He pulled out suddenly, flipping her onto her stomach. "Hands behind your back," he commanded. She obeyed, her body trembling. He entered her again, this time from behind, as he kept her wrists fixed in place with one hand. His thrusts were relentless, each one harder than the last. His other hand went around her throat as he leaned over to snarl wolfishly into her ear. "You like that, don't you?"

"Yes, oh God, yes," she cried out, her voice breaking. He reached around, his hand finding the sensitive spot between her legs, rubbing in time with his thrusts. Her screams of pleasure filled the room, raw and unrestrained.

Lionel felt her tighten around him, her cries reaching a fevered pitch. He drove into her, his movements rough and commanding. "You're mine," he growled. "Say it."

"I'm yours," she panted. "Only yours."

He thrust harder, his control slipping. Cecilia cried out, again and again, body convulsing and shaking. He gave one final, powerful thrust, and they both shattered, their bodies collapsing together in a heap of exhausted satisfaction. Then, Lionel lifted his head from her and laid his body against hers. The joining of their two naked forms was as glorious as it had been the first time. The world shattered. Time and space ended, and the totality of their existence was their entwined bodies.

When it was over, Lionel lay with his head pillowed upon Cecilia's breasts. She had her arms about him, stroking his hair. He did not want to move, the softness of her body more than compensating for the hardness of the table on which they lay.

His body felt liquid, his desire sated. He felt utterly vulnerable, exposed but uncaring. If Cecilia was a spy, then she was committed to her cause, willing to give the entirety of her being to it.

He could not imagine any woman giving so much unless driven by true desire.

Trust was difficult for him. An unfamiliar concept. But, something was changing. Perhaps he was bewitched. If so, he welcomed it.

A fork in the road stood before him. To lie in Cecilia's arms and accept her as his wife. Or to reject her once and for all. Reject her and continue his quest for vengeance alone. Something told him that such a lonely, personal quest would destroy him. It would take something of his humanity away, never to return. And would leave him unfulfilled once achieved. But in the same vein, having her join his quest for vengeance against his own blood might put her in harm's way. Might even destroy whatever they dared to build. The foundations of a marriage birthed on duplicity and fueled by betrayal could never survive. And that was a gross sin he could never forgive himself for.

He was conflicted. For, no matter how he framed this dilemma, greed was the prevalent emotion. He couldn't allow Thorpe to walk free. He couldn't allow anyone else to have Cecilia. Not now, not ever. A gnawing feeling clawed at his stomach—a feeling that he might regret the dark path he was treading down. His heart pounded against his ribcage and he swore she could feel it.

"Lionel," Cecilia whispered after an age of laying in his arms, "I don't know what the future holds, nor can I convince you that a marriage can be anything but a burden, but if it is to be the case that we must separate some day, then can I make a request? That this dream only end when the scandal is forgotten? And not a moment sooner."

He raised his head to face her. Seconds later, he crushed his lips against hers fiercely. "So, what would you like to do first?"

"So soon?"

"Of course," he chuckled, pinching her cheeks at her astonishment. "We hardly have forever. I shall make your time at Thornhill immemorable."

A flicker of anxiety passed through her at his words, the implication of their fleeting time together sinking in. But she left it there for now, at the back of her thoughts. "Hmm. A tour of Thornwood, perhaps? I have only ever seen the view from my bedchamber window and it looks a magical place."

He kissed her again. "Your wish is my command."