Читать книгу Blood Secret - Sharon Page - Страница 9

5

The Pleasure Room

The Duke of Greystone possessed an enormous house on Upper Brook Street—one crafted of severe gray stone and rows of sparkling windows. A footman in sapphire-blue and silver livery escorted her past the drawing room in which she had first encountered the duke.

Inside Lucy was ready to explode. And not with desire. Had Greystone done something with her brother? Had his words frightened Jack so much they had forced him to run? Had the duke hurt her brother over this bizarre accusation?

How could her father have kidnapped the duke’s nephew? It was impossible. Father never would have done such a thing. The accusation was utterly insane.

Was Greystone insane? He had not seemed so when she had ... oh God, when she’d had intimate relations with him. He had been astonishingly kind to her. He had comforted her about Allan Ferrars, soothing her, telling her she was brave. Had he done all those things while knowing what had happened to her brother?

And she, the utter fool, had been seduced by his words and by his wonderful touches and the thrusts that had made her whole body quiver with pleasure.

But then a memory struck her, one that made her halt on the stairs. She clutched the banister to keep her balance. Father had rescued children who were shape-shifting dragons. He had taken in many orphans or abandoned children, and had supported them, and helped them understand what they were. Just before he had died, Father had been distraught. There had been a child he had taken in ... one he said he had tried to protect ... but that he had failed to do so.

How could that have been the duke’s nephew? Father only took in children who had no family or who had been cast off and rejected by their relatives.

“Where is the duke?” she demanded of the servant, when they reached the stairs that swept up to the next story of the house. “Where are you taking me?”

The footman bowed. “His Grace wished to meet you in the Pleasure Room.”

“The what room?” She stared. The servant, an elderly man, with bushy gray eyebrows and crinkled blue eyes beneath his powdered wig, held his face without expression. He did not even blush.

“It is a special room used by His Grace,” the man replied. He began to mount the stairs.

“Indeed.” Lifting her hems, she followed, rolling her eyes. Only the Duke of Greystone, scoundrel and libertine that he was, could have a room of such a name. A normal gentleman would have a library, a study, and a bedchamber. He would not openly call a room the “Pleasure” Room.

She had been a fool to come here and offer herself to him. The duke must have been laughing at her all the while.

The footman stopped at the end of the hall, at double white paneled doors. “Do not announce me,” she said. She intended to take His Grace by surprise. Lucy threw open both doors and stalked inside. She planned to face Greystone and crisply ask, “What happened to my brother? You were the last person to see him.”

But she was taken by surprise.

There was one astonishing thing in this room she had seen before, but quite a few things she hadn’t. Dark paneling covered the walls. Glowing light came from a huge fireplace and tapered candles set in tall, wrought-iron stands. A large cheval mirror stood near a bench, reflecting the flickering candle flames. Strange wooden objects littered the room—stands and benches with ropes tied to them. A swing with a small velvet seat hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room. And manacles also dangled from the ceiling. This room looked as though it had nothing to do with pleasure.

“Lady Lucy. How delightful. You are early.”

The duke’s voice flowed to her. He stood in front of the fireplace, illuminated by the glow. She had been trying to look everywhere at once, and not at him. As the day before, he was not wearing any clothes.

But this time, when she saw him, her traitorous brain thought of what his body had felt like under her fingertips. What it had felt like when his narrow hips had been between her legs and his chest had been a wicked pressure against her naked breasts—

Lucy crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to blush, to show any intimidation. “Your Grace, I have learned you spoke to my brother on the night he disappeared,” she said sharply. “He left a seedy tavern in your company, and then he has not been seen again. And you accused my father of kidnapping your nephew. That’s impossible!”

Greystone plucked something off the mantel. He strode to her, at ease in his nudity. He held out a glass to her—a delicate glass with amber liquid within. Sherry. After what she had just said, he was offering sherry.

“Your Grace, what happened to my brother?”

He set the glass on one of the strange benches. There were chains attached to the legs. “And how did you learn of this, Lady Lucy?”

“I hired a man to hunt for my brother. He has been missing for a week! He vanished after telling me about his debts to you. I feared—I feared he had done something foolish.”

“Hurt himself?”

“No—run away. Left England.”

“Yes, your brother is the sort of wastrel who would do that.”

“You have no right to say such a thing,” she flared. “What did you do to him? Did you injure him because he has not paid his debts?” Bothered, she looked down. He was now very erect, as though their argument aroused him.

She glared into his eyes. “What did you do to him?”

“I questioned him. Which is a better treatment than he deserves, since he would not tell me where my nephew is being held.”

“That is madness. My family did not kidnap your nephew.”

“They did. And you must be very well aware of the fact. So you tell me, Lady Lucy, where is the boy? Where is your family hiding my nephew, James?”

“How could you think my family did such a thing? I do not know anything about your nephew. I am sorry if he is missing. I know how terrifying that is, since I have no idea what happened to my brother. But my family had nothing to do with his disappearance.”

“Not true. They did, and I suspect you know where he is. It is a known fact that your family is a closely knit clan.”

The way he looked into her eyes ... as though he knew ... but he couldn’t ...

Unless her brother, Jack, had told him they were dragons.

No, Jack would never do that. They had all been taught they must never reveal the truth.

His Grace walked around her slowly. She stood her ground—until he came against her from behind. His erection poked her bottom through her skirts. She tried to step away, but his arms went around her waist. “You are being loyal to your family, and you are lying to me.”

“I’m not!” Lucy half-turned to protest, and her lips almost touched his. Breathing hard, she turned away.

“You hired a man to search for your brother. What do you think I did to find my nephew? I have sent two dozen men in search of him. But the reason I know your father took him, Lady Lucy, is because your father told me.”

“It’s—it can’t be possible. My father would never have done such a thing. Why would he?”

“I believe you know, Lady Lucy.” He breathed the words against her ear with his cool breath.

“I don’t!”

Sinjin tried to see into Lady Lucy’s thoughts. He could not, but her emotions flooded to him. Anger. Confusion. Frustration. Fear. Worry.

Why the fear? Was she fearful because she might be caught in a lie? Or was she feeling great fear because she was afraid for her brother? He skimmed his hands up her stomach, to rest just below the generous curve of her breasts. She wore a fresh gown, a fetching one of ivory silk. She stiffened. Her heart thundered against his fingers. “Your father assured me James is safe. But he also assured me I would never see the boy again. Why, my dear, do you think I worked to ruin your brother?”

“I—”

“I did it to get my nephew back. All I want is the safe return of an innocent boy. He is only five years of age.”

Against his body, she shuddered. “I cannot believe this. I have no proof my father said any such thing to you. I have witnesses who saw you leave with my brother.”

He traced the smooth curve of her jaw. Was her outrage just an act? Was it possible her father had ensured she did not know that he had stolen a child to use the poor lad as a hostage? “I know where he is. I will take you to him. But first, my dear, you will submit to my every command tonight.”

“What—what do you mean?”

“I want to make love to you. You will do everything I ask, and then I will tell you where you can find your wastrel brother.”

Lucy glanced around the room—at the swing, the manacles, and the benches with their chains. She did not care about their bargain now. And the last thing she wanted to do was something sexual. “No. I wish to go to my brother now.”

Wastrel or not, Jack deserved her protection. She had vowed to Father that she would look after Jack, who drank too much, gamed too much, and was always in trouble. But also, Jack had protected her once, when she’d needed him most. He had rescued her from Allan, and she owed him her very life for that.

A wicked grin curved the duke’s lips. He winked at her, which infuriated her. Lightly, he said, “Your brother is perfectly safe. I doubt he would appreciate your interruption too soon.”

She did not appreciate his teasing tone at this particular time. “Why? Where is he?” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the maddening man.

“No harm in giving you a little hint, I suppose... .” He shrugged. “My men have located him in a brothel—he’s been holed up in there for days.”

“A brothel?” Pure fury rushed through her. Lucy clenched her fists at her sides. “We thought he was dead and he is hiding in a brothel?”

“Indeed.”

There was much about this she did not understand. “How, if you wanted to find your nephew, did you not know where my brother was? Are you telling me that after you left that tavern together, when he had not given you the information you wanted, you simply let him go?”

Suspiciously, she watched his eyes, to see if he gave himself away. It didn’t make sense. But his eyes merely reflected the light in the room, and she could get no sense of his private thoughts.

The duke sighed. “I allowed your brother to go as I intended to follow him. However, I was overly arrogant, and your brother evaded me. For as long as you have been looking for him, I’ve been searching for him. I want him to tell me where my nephew is. Now, come, Lady Lucy, we made a bargain. Sexual pleasure first.”

She should go and find Jack right now. So she could boot her brother in his derriere, the thoughtless wretch. But her body relaxed in the duke’s embrace, against her will. She couldn’t help it. She was so tired—tired of trying to save Jack from himself.

Greystone’s arms tightened around her. She could not deny they were strong, and inside the circle of them, she felt secure.

“Even if we had not made a bargain,” the duke murmured, “I would move heaven and earth to make love to you.”

His lips touched her neck. The most remarkable tingle burst like a fireball at the point where he kissed her. It rushed down her spine. Then he ran his tongue along her neck.

Inside, she was molten, as hot as dragon fire.

“Your brother should have taken much better care of you.” Kisses trailed down the nape of her neck. Lucy whimpered.

She should go to Jack ... but the duke was right ... Jack would be furious at her for hauling him from a house of ill repute. She gazed down at the duke’s golden hair. “You do believe I know nothing about your nephew, don’t you? I truly don’t.”

His tongue ran over the swell of her breasts. “Yes, I believe you.” He looked up. “I would say I was wrong about your father, except he admitted it to me.”

“But why would my father take an innocent boy—”

He had turned her as she protested, and he silenced her with one hot, openmouthed, hungry kiss.

The duke must believe she had nothing to do with the kidnapping of his nephew—how could he kiss her like this if he did? Lucy wanted to know exactly what had happened but she was on fire, and she couldn’t stop kissing him.

She must know about his nephew’s kidnapping. Even as he assured her he did believe her, Sinjin could not understand how Lady Lucy did not know what her family had done.

True, she had appeared to be genuinely shocked, but she’d managed to keep London Society from learning she was a dragon. She knew how to keep a secret.

She wouldn’t tell him the truth. He had to get inside her mind and see for himself. To do that, he had to coax her to trust him.

Her skin sizzled with warmth beneath his hands. What he intended to do was give Lady Lucy Drake an introduction to exotic sex in a way she wouldn’t forget.

He could tie her up and have his wicked way with her.

Or he could let her tie him up.

The duke stretched his long, nude body on one of the benches, and he grinned. Lucy was still completely dressed, and she had crossed her arms over her chest. He had simply left her, walked to the bench, and lay down.

His feet rested by the legs, where ropes dangled. He held more rope in his hands. With his arms above his head, he looked both vulnerable and more muscular. In this position, his chest and back looked even broader. Unlike her body, which was soft, her curves defined by areas where she was too plump, his skin clung to the shape of his remarkable muscles. Then he shifted, and she saw his erection where it was trapped between the bench and his abdomen—goodness, he was very aroused, his penis long and straight.

She approached him cautiously. With his cheek resting on the smooth leather of the bench, he grinned. “I want you to lie like this, my dear. I would like to massage you.”

“I cannot lie anywhere like that. I am wearing my stays.”

His relaxed laugh rolled over her. He sat up, swinging his long legs over the bench, and crooked his finger. She couldn’t help but stare at his wobbling penis. The head of it glistened in a way that made her blush. Trails of a silvery fluid dribbled from a tiny opening in the acorn-shaped head.

Lifting her hem, she walked to him. Holding her hips, he made her turn, then he swiftly undid the fastenings of her dress. He moved with more expert speed than her maid, and had her undressed to her stays and shift in no time at all.

He drew down her garters and her filmy stockings. Then he pushed up the lace-trimmed hem of her shift and kissed her inner thighs.

“Goodness! That tickles,” she gasped. She half-turned and saw his smile. Locks of his golden hair shielded his face, but there was no doubt he was grinning gently at her.

He couldn’t blame her for his nephew’s disappearance—how could he continue to smile at her if he did?

Unlacing her stays, he drew them down. Balancing her hands on his shoulders, she stepped out of her stockings, then her stays. And he whisked her shift off.

She swallowed hard as her breasts bounced and her naked body was displayed, mere inches from his face. She had been intimate with him but she still felt shy.

“You are very beautiful,” he murmured. He leaned forward, flashing a much naughtier smile and he buried his face in the fullness of her breasts.

Beautiful was something Lucy did not feel. She felt awkwardly naked. She didn’t know how to stand, where she should put her hands, or if she should touch him. She rested her knee on the bench while he played with her breasts, but she felt unbalanced and awkward and slid her foot back to the ground.

Suddenly, he settled his hands on her waist and lifted her off the ground. He traded places with her so quickly she barely had time to register what had happened. Then he was easing her down, turning her to lie on her stomach.

His hands coasted over her back, firmly but carefully stroking and rubbing her. He massaged her muscles.

Closing her eyes—it felt easier to experience this with eyes shut—she gave a murmur of pleasure.

His fingers kneaded their way down her back. Each stroke made her relax more.

Suddenly Greystone lifted her bottom. Something slightly scratchy brushed against her cheeks—it was the thick hair at his crotch. His penis stroked her private place, and she was so wet, the taut head immediately slid in. She turned her head and saw him. He was balanced on the bench on his knees, and her bottom was lifted up in the air.

He thrust into her, in long, slow strokes, his penis driving deep. His hips bumped against her bottom with each thrust. He spread her legs wide, holding her with his hands to open her for him. It was rather erotic. She clung to the bench and focused on the way her bottom jiggled when his pubis hit her. She felt the sway of her breasts. Her nipples were hard and long.

Heat washed over her. She was panting, working toward her pleasure, sucking in breaths.

“Let me play with you here, Lady Lucy.”

His fingers came around her hip and plied between her nether lips. He stroked her clit, and she gasped in shock. The orgasm slammed into her almost instantly.

She shook with it. Her body was so hot ... she was melting.. . .

Heavens, her muscles were jerking and jolting. She was changing.

She tried to pull away, but he held her to him. He had plunged deep and was gripping her, so she would ride through her climax on him.

She had to escape. But he was too strong and he would not let her go.

Panic made her desperate. “Please. You must let me go. I need to ... I must go to the retiring room. Please!”

His hand stroked slowly down her back. “It is all right, my dear. I know what is happening to you. I know what you are.”

She blinked. Dazed from lovemaking and panic, shaking from the strain of trying to resist the change, she wasn’t certain she had heard correctly. “What do you mean?”

“You are a dragon. I know that. I know your family are dragons.”

She tried again to scurry away from him, but he held her too tightly. How could he know? Jack must have told him. But she could not allow him to know. She had to make him believe it was not true. “I’m not a dragon. I am a female. I mean, I am human. A properly brought up lady. Whatever you were told about dragons, I can assure you it was not true. How could it be? That is the stuff of fairy tales—”

She broke off. How could he have believed it so easily? How could he say it so calmly now? Why would anyone accept such a mad and preposterous story?

Greystone tipped his hips back, letting his erection slide free. For a moment she had the hope she could flee, but he pulled her back, drawing her onto his lap. “That’s what you are trying to force yourself to be. You are trying to fight your dragon nature.”

She bolted up from his lap and landed on the floor. Her breasts jiggled but she didn’t care that she was naked now. She wrapped her arms around herself. “It is not true. There is no such thing as people who turn into dragons. Of course it is impossible for a woman to be both a lady and a dragon.”

“That is exactly what you believe, isn’t it?”

How gently he spoke.

“But you are both, aren’t you, Lady Lucy? You are both a responsible lady and a fiery dragon. And the reason I know what you are is because I am not merely a duke. I am a vampire.”

A vampire—could it be possible? She reared back. She knew of vampires—they were undead creatures, not immortal shifters like dragons were. Vampires tended to keep together, just as dragons did, and witches did, and demons. She had been told there were peers of the realm who were really vampires.

“It’s all right, my dear. I won’t hurt you. I don’t intend to drink your blood.”

“You don’t?” She hugged herself. “Are you sure? Is this why you lured me here?” If he attacked her, she would have to shift shape and fight him as a dragon. A vampire would be far too strong for her otherwise—

Suddenly she realized she had controlled her shift into dragon form. It hadn’t happened. When he had told her he was a vampire, she had forgotten what was happening to her body. And somehow that had helped her control the change.

He regarded her with amusement, which she found preposterous at this moment—when they were discussing drinking her blood.

“With you, love,” he growled, “I would prefer to feed on sex.”

She frowned. “That’s not possible. Is it?”

He grinned. “For me, it is. And you, my beautiful Lady Lucy, promise to be a sumptuous feast.” Then he sobered, his eyes serious but still mirror-like. She now knew why his eyes glittered so much—it was because he was one of the undead.

“You are stunningly beautiful, love,” he said. “Don’t try to hide what you are. Being a dragon gives you incredible power.” His smile dazzled her again.

“But,” she said, warily, “I am not certain if it gives me enough power to subdue a hungry vampire.”

With eyes twinkling, he murmured, “What would make you feel safe with me?”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

“You could tie me up.”

She jolted. “Tie you up?”

“Mmm. Bind my hands together or tie me to the bench. Would that make you feel comfortable? I give you my word that I won’t hurt you, but I understand, love, why you might be scared.”

Would it make her feel more at ease? She was not sure. But he appeared to be so excited by the idea. Flushing, she nodded.

“All right, my dear. Let me teach you how to tie me up.”

She had no idea it would prove so arousing to tie the duke’s wrists together.

Lucy squirmed on the bench, very wet, very aroused, and quite pleased with her handiwork. Looping the ropes around his wrists, she had tied his hands together in front of him, then, following his instructions, she had crisscrossed the ropes, wrapping layer after layer, until he was well and truly captured.

He teasingly batted his eyelashes at her. “I wish I could touch you—stroke your silken cheek, push back your unruly curls, stroke your lush, beautiful mouth—but unfortunately I’m a little tied up right now.”

It made her smile. It banished nerves and doubt. She didn’t care that he was a vampire. How could she, when he accepted she was a dragon?

He wiggled his bound hands and flashed a grin. “Come up here, my love, and sit on my face. Even though my hands are bound, I can use my tongue to pleasure you.”

A hot flush touched her cheeks. But to her surprise, as she stepped over the bench, and carefully walked until her quim was over his face, he winked. “A few more inches. Then lower down so I may kiss you.”

Strange how she listened to his commands. She couldn’t quite figure out what the duke wanted, and it made her willing to play his game. Heavens, it made her hungry to play his game. Her breath came fast, her heart raced, her legs trembled.

She lowered and the duke licked a place behind her quim—a bridge of flesh that made her moan helplessly. His tongue darted to the entrance of her bottom and lightly stroked.

Stars exploded before her eyes.

He dropped back. “Do you know, my love, how sensitive your bottom is?” he asked hoarsely. “You have the most lush and beautiful arse I’ve ever seen. I would love to give you an orgasm by pleasuring it.”

“Pleasuring my bottom? What do you mean?”

“Lie on your stomach, my dear, and I will show you.”

Slowly she did, but she stiffened as he approached. Why would he not answer questions and demand she trust him?

Something warm and wet stroked over the curve of her bottom, gently following, tickling her skin. Gasping, she glanced back, over her shoulder. Through the screen of her hair, she saw he had bent to her rump. He had licked the cheek of her bottom. Now, puckering, he planted a kiss on the plumpness of her right cheek. It jiggled.

“You are beautiful, love. So generous.” He rained kisses over her curves, kisses that tickled, that made her giggle. Then he caressed her with his tongue, roving the wet tip over sensitive flesh.

Apparently a woman’s bottom could be pleasured.

Greystone lifted his head. “That was just the beginning, Lady Lucy. If you say yes, there is more pleasure to be had.”

She swallowed hard once more. And whispered, “Yes.”

“Good. What I intend to do involves some sexual toys.”