Ripe for Pleasure

CHAPTER 16   



A stack of letters lay waiting for Leo on his desk in the library. One from his mother, two from Beau, one from his family solicitor, Mr. Grimble, and one franked by Thane, though it was addressed in Sandison’s hand.

Leo cracked the plain wax seal and spread his friend’s letter out on the desk. A quick perusal told him everything he needed to know. Charles and his men had overpowered the footman set to guard Viola’s house and had pretty much ransacked the place. They’d moved all the large pieces of furniture, opened several walls, and even pulled up some of the floorboards. But they hadn’t found anything, or at least they hadn’t carted anything off, according to Boaz, who’d come to in time to see them leaving.

Now he really did have to go to town, if for no other reason than to see that Viola’s house was restored to order before she herself returned. He read his mother’s letter: His brother’s wife was pregnant, again; his father and the vicar had fallen out—as with the first bit of news, this was no surprise; and a drunk, Italian prince had come all the way to Scotland to sing under Beau’s window, and the duke had nearly set the dogs on him.

His sister’s letter was quite predictably filled with the very same news, albeit with a very different tone. Beau thought the Italian prince deserved the dogs, if for no other reason than the fact that his singing was more the croak of a frog than the song of a nightingale. She also thought it disgustingly redundant of their sister-in-law to have fallen pregnant a fourth time after already adding three hearty new Vaughns to the family tree, and she wholeheartedly took their father’s side when it came to his disagreement with the vicar (which seemed to have arisen over the propriety of bonfires at midsummer; the duke being for them, the vicar firmly against such pagan goings-on).

Leo laid the letters aside and opened the one from Mr. Grimble. It was a simple piece of business, but it did require his presence and signature, and it would give him all the excuse he needed to make a quick run to London.

He was rereading Beau’s letter, and chuckling over her description of her love-struck prince, when Viola wandered into the library. She smiled, glanced at his letter, then turned her back and began to study the volumes that filled the tall cases lining the walls.

Leo let the letter fall to the desktop. Viola paced slowly along the far wall, pulling out first one book and then another, sometimes stopping to glance at a page or two, other times replacing the book unopened.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”

Viola craned her neck to look at him while she slid her most recent selection back into place. “I was reading Caesar’s Commentarii, but I forgot to bring it with me. You have quite an eclectic collection here. Everything from Aristotle’s Masterpiece to Tom Jones to the plays of Shakespeare and the poetry of Donne. Did your grandfather build it, or did it come with the house?”

“A little of both, I’m afraid. To tell the truth, it’s the family dumping ground for whatever they drag with them on their trips here.”

Viola took a few more steps along the bookcase and pulled out a slender volume bound in blue leather. “And who left this?” She crossed the room and handed him the book in question.

Leo glanced at the title and found himself smiling. “That had to be either Sandison or my sister.”

Viola raised her brows. “Your sister has read the Earl of Rochester?”

“Beau has read a lot of things a properly brought-up girl oughtn’t to have. It comes from having scholars for parents. They shudder at the idea of censoring books. And Sandison is supposedly the illegitimate descendant of the disreputable earl, so it stands to reason he’s proud of the man’s debauched poetry.”


Viola took the book back from him, opened it, and began to read, “Our dainty fine Dutchesse’s have got a Trick, To Doat on a Fool, for the Sake of his Prick, The Fopps were undone, did their Graces but know, The Discretion and vigor of Signior Dildo.” She shushed him when he choked and rapped him on the hand when he finally gave way to outright laughter.

“I prefer his less vulgar works,” Leo said. “Naked she lay, clasped in my longing arms, I filled with love, and she all over charms; Both equally inspired with eager fire, Melting through kindness, flaming in desire.”

“Are you saying you don’t find dildos erotic, my lord?”

“Are you saying you do, my dear Mrs. Whedon?”

Viola bit her lips, but the grin still curled up the edges of her mouth. “I can’t say, as I’ve never had to resort to one.”

Leo grinned back at her. Viola leaned in, lips meeting his in a feather-light caress.

“See that I don’t have to, my lord,” she whispered.

“Is that a threat?”

“Well,” she smiled down at him, “it’s certainly not me begging.”

Leo stood and backed her into the desk. “Shall I see if I can make you?”

“Beg for a dildo?”

Leo nipped her earlobe. “If you like, though that’s not what I meant.” He put her hand over the fall of his breeches and held it there as his cock flared to life. Her hand flexed, cupping his already ridged shaft.

“Is that you begging, my lord?”

Leo chuckled as he lifted her onto the desk and stepped between her thighs. “Not yet, it isn’t.”

Viola slid her hand along his erection, stroking it through the fabric of his breeches. She squeezed a bit harder as she reached the head, then pushed back down along its length, fingertips dancing over his testicles. Leo pressed himself into her palm.

“Do you really think it’s that easy?” Leo pushed her skirts up and out of his way, dragging his nails lightly up the naked flesh of her thigh. The cleft between her thighs was already slick; his fingers were wet as he slid them inside her.

Viola dragged in a quick breath. “Why shouldn’t it be?” Her hand continued to stroke him. “And don’t say, ‘Because I said it isn’t.’ ” She opened the fall of his breeches, and this time he didn’t stop her.

His cock pulsed in her hand, blood rushed through him, leaving him dizzy. He gripped her hips, moving her forward to the edge of the desk. Viola guided him into place, a low purr in the back of her throat.

Leo thrust in, stretching her, filling her. She arched, rocking until her hips met his, until they couldn’t get any closer. Leo pushed her back onto the desk, reached across, and gripped its far edge for leverage.

Viola matched his rhythm. She clung to his shoulders, tugging on his coat, wrenching it half off him. Her body was wet and willing and open, inner muscles pulsing.

Her feet cupped his buttocks, pressing him against her as she bucked up off the desk. One hand twisted in his hair, pulling hard, but with a slow, steady pressure that brought pleasure with the pain.

His release engulfed him, washing him over a precipice to where nothing else existed. His world was the heat of her skin against his, the wet embrace of her body, her shuddering gasps.

He lay still for a moment, drifting. He’d come, but his erection would last a few minutes more. Long enough to pitch her over into insensate bliss. He rocked his hips, rubbed against her, bit softly just below her ear. She struggled, pushed, rolled her body beneath his, then finally cried out, the sound dying away to a series of incoherent sobs.

Leo rested atop her, listening to the frantic beat of his own heart. It slowly steadied. Viola stirred beneath him, hands caressing his back, one foot idly tracing along his thigh.

He kissed the hollow of her throat. “And that, my dear, I think even our wicked earl would call a conflagration.”