Chapter 38
It looked like a fairy-tale castle from the carriage window, but who knew what evil lurked within its walls? Damien had warned Emily time and time again that she was not to trust anyone at the party. He was afraid for her, he had said. But what of his safety? Did he believe himself untouchable because he stood for what was right? Keeping her at his side might protect her, but it also made him vulnerable.
The carriage climbed a rutted dirt road; closer and closer the castle loomed. A bank of clouds drifted across the sky. The sun that had illuminated the castle ramparts vanished. In its place shadows gathered, silver-mauve and unwelcoming.
“I don’t like it,” she thought aloud. “It looks cold and has an aura of death about it.”
Damien’s deep voice teased her. “Is that your private opinion as a countess or as a fortune-teller sharing one of her prophecies?”
She turned from the window to find Damien studying her intently. How he flustered her. She wished she could read his mind. Was he remembering his domination of her during the night? How elemental he could be at times, and she no better. She had denied him nothing. Something had changed between them since their visit to the cottage. Even while she had conversed with the viscount, she’d felt Damien scrutinizing her. And then, afterward, during the final leg of the ride to the castle, he had withdrawn from her.
She could not help thinking that she had displeased him. Had she seemed gauche and awkward in his view?
“Emily.”
She blinked.
“This is no time to go into a trance,” he said, frowning at her. “From the minute we cross the castle drawbridge, you are to be on your guard. Doubtless many violent acts have been committed here in the past.”
“Am I allowed to talk to anyone, or shall I just stand at your side like a trained monkey?”
“Obviously you will have to talk to the other guests. Perhaps you’ll be able to draw useful information from them. But do not put yourself in a precarious situation from which I might not be able to help you.”
“I have no intention of climbing the castle tower, Damien. I am not the dunderhead I was when we met.”
“I’ve gathered that.”
She settled back against the squabs. “What if something happens to you?”
“There are four other agents assigned to the castle, including Winthrop. I will not formally introduce you to them, but I shall indicate who they are upon our arrival.” He wavered. “And, above all, else do not stray off with any attentive young men.”
She sat up straighter. “Do you honestly believe I would take a chance of being alone with a member of the conspiracy?”
“To be truthful, Emily, I was referring to a member of the male sex in general.”
? ? ?
He was in a passionate mood when they settled in their bedchamber early that evening. He kissed Emily three times after they excused themselves from the tennis match in progress on the lawn. He would have kissed her up the staircase and through the door had another couple not trailed a few steps behind.
Inside their chamber, she surrendered as Damien’s touch shed her clothes like autumn leaves.
He gathered her into his arms without a hint of gentleness and drew her closer until she could feel the length of him, his need. And while he kissed her, she unbuttoned his jacket and slipped her hand inside his waistband. He grew hard and thick in her hand as she stroked the head of his penis. With a groan of frustration he broke the kiss to remove his clothes, allowing her a few moments to catch her breath.
But his eyes held her a helpless captive. No sooner was he undressed than he pulled her across the room to a yellow brocade couch and said, “Let us finish what we started. I do hate to leave matters undone. Do you mind if we don’t use the bed? This couch appears sturdy enough for what I have in mind.”
“It’s fine with me, Damien. Why don’t you lie back and let me have a turn for once?”
He laughed. “This sounds promising. Please be my guest.”
? ? ?
It was not in Damien’s character to submit to either pleasure or pain. He preferred to be the one in power. But this was a novel experience, his wife attempting to seduce him. Surely what she had in mind was more interesting than anarchists.
He laid back his head to watch her through hooded eyes. She had gone down on her knees while he sprawled back against the couch.
When her fingers skimmed his belly, he released his breath.
“Do you need my guidance?” he asked in a silky voice.
“Yes,” she whispered, her fingers brushing his rampant erection. “Isn’t this how it’s done?”
He groaned. “That depends on what you mean to do.”
“May I kiss you there?”
“How do you know about this act?”
She smiled demurely. “Diana had a book that Lucy and I used to sneak into her room to read.”
“You should have both been sent to boarding school,” he said, not managing to sound at all sincere.
“The book had pictures.” She lowered her head. “The man wasn’t as big as you.”
“Dear God.”
“Well, you did it to me. Do you want me to stop?”
“Don’t you dare.”
He stared down at her face, her mouth hesitantly closing around the head of his prick. The suction of her lush red lips, so delicate, so uncertain, filled him with a fierce arousal. He called upon his willpower to keep from shoving his shaft into her mouth. But as he eased through her teeth, he felt her suckle him harder. He pushed deeper before he could restrain the urge. And she took as much of him as she could, her tongue slowly encircling the stiff muscle from knob to base.
He reached down blindly for her shoulder, certain he would come in her throat if she did not release him from her amateur seduction. Not that there was anything amateur about her instincts. This was pure female intuition. Her sweet attempt to suck his rod was an exquisite surprise. Clearly she wanted to please him. And she had more than succeeded. She drove him right to the edge. Her tongue flicked up and down, around the swollen base of his erection. Her hair fell like silk against his belly and he pushed it to the side. He wanted to watch her mouth swallow him. He could grow too attached to a wife who amused him outside the bedroom but who made him feel like a beggar in his bed.
“Is this the right way, Damien?” she whispered. “Shall we continue in the bed? They were in a bed in Diana’s book.”
“This is fine. I couldn’t move if I wanted to.”
Her lips formed a seal around him, then slid up and down his straining length. He could not bear it. His groin tightened with every teasing lash of her tongue. He closed his eyes, his body still and at her mercy before he surrendered to the strongest climax he had ever known. When moments later she crawled up beside him, he could barely move to embrace her.
“Did I do it properly?” she whispered.
He stroked her hair. She was lying awkwardly between the cushions and his lower body. “I am almost too replete and grateful to answer.” He exhaled. “I don’t think I have ever appreciated the value of books as much as I do at this moment.”
And her, he thought. What an amazing woman was his wife.