The Arrangement

THE ARRANGEMENT

THE ARRANGEMENT

By Emma Wildes

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Emma Wildes

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THE ARRANGEMENT Copyright (c) 2005 by Emma Wildes Coverart (c) 2005 by Sable Grey All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America.

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THE ARRANGEMENT

Dedication:

Special thanks to Scarlett and Tracey, editors extraordinaire!

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Emma Wildes

Chapter One

Rayne Talbot slammed his hand down on the desk so hard, the pictures rattled on the walls of the room. “Are you telling me,” he said in a lethal whisper, “that these documents are inviolate?” His solicitor, sweating and obviously uncomfortable with his client’s potent anger, mumbled, “They’re genuine, yes. The clandestine purchase of portions of the company have been going on for some time now--” “Yes, I know, my father explained in great deal his blackmail scheme.” Biting out those words, Rayne stalked across the room and looked out the window. “I just hoped that perhaps somewhere he had overlooked a small detail, something we could take to court.” “I am afraid not, sir.” God in heaven, his father--and his friend, the esteemed Duke of Carlton, were like despotic, grasping evil brothers. He could not believe that two men so close in personality and single-minded intent had not sprung from the same womb. Jesus, it looked like he might actually have to go through with this…insanity. He ground out with difficulty, “Did you look over the other papers, the marriage settlement?” “Yes, sir.” “Is there anything there against the possibility of annulment or divorce?” He heard the man swallow. “I’m afraid there is a clause against both, sir. The agreement is locked up tight with, in my opinion, no room for negotiation.” “Hell and blast!” “However,” the timid offering was said in a squeak, “I’m sure it has been explained that for every male offspring your…er…wife, produces, you regain a significant block of control, and--”

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THE ARRANGEMENT “I am well aware of the price of my stud service on Carlton’s young daughter, thank you, Simmons.” Rayne’s smile was a mere baring of his teeth. “What if every child is a girl?” “For every four female children born, you get the same as if it were a male child.” “Points for effort, how very generous. Is there anything else I should know?” “I don’t think so. I’ll read them through again, if you like.” “I like nothing about this, but look and see if there is a ridiculous clause forcing me to go through with a formal ceremony.” “Very well, sir, if we’re through here, may I go?” The hasty sound of the man’s departure followed Rayne’s curt nod. Alone in his study, he stared at the hated documents left on his desk. His father had pulled a master stroke of manipulative genius this time, he thought bleakly, insisting he marry some vapid girl barely out of the schoolroom and breed children, simply because Carlton wanted an heir and his arrogant father detested him enough he would rather will his fortune to a grandson. He’d only met this prospective bride a few times, and he’d been so damned angry, he’d barely looked at her. She was blond, if he recalled, and slender. Not that it mattered. He could hardly stand to think of her. “Fine,” he muttered out loud, scattering the papers with a vicious swipe of his hand, “I’ll fuck her half to death, if that’s what you want.”

**** Her life was utterly ruined, so the insanity of the act she was about to commit hardly seemed to matter. Alighting from the hired hack, Serena Prentice handed over several coins to the driver and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. It had begun to drizzle, a fine thin misting rain that made the stone steps in front of her gleam in the lamplight. She’d come this far, she reminded herself firmly. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to climb up and lift the brass knocker, rapping sharply. Her pulse throbbed in her wrist, evidence of her tension, and when the door was opened by a very dignified-looking butler, she found her hands shaking as she produced the note. “Please give this to the countess and ask if she’ll see me.” 6

Emma Wildes He was either schooled well in discretion or else nervous young ladies appearing on his mistress’s doorstep were commonplace, for he did little more than take the missive from her trembling fingers and incline his head as he motioned for her to step into the foyer. As she waited, Serena surveyed the opulent space, taking in the tiled expanse of the front hall directly to her right, the elaborate crystal chandelier, the almost decadent elegance of an unusual enameled and lacquered Chinese chest sitting on the gleaming floor. Blood red roses in a crystal vase made a vivid statement, a contrast to the pale satin-covered walls. The countess was reputed to be very beautiful and very rich. She was also obviously sophisticated and had excellent taste. And how on earth, Serena mused with a twinge of despair, did an eighteen-year old ingénue, with no experience, compete with that? “Her ladyship requests I see you this way, miss.” The intonation of the elderly manservant’s voice made her jump. Realizing that he was motioning her to follow him, she squared her shoulders and complied, letting him usher her inside an open doorway about halfway down the long hallway. It was a reflection of the same rich décor she had seen earlier, and the woman rising with languorous grace from a velvet settee was no less striking. Taking in the sleek chignon of auburn hair, the elegance of high cheekbones and slightly slanted dark brown eyes, not to mention the full curves of generous breasts and womanly hips accentuated by a dark blue evening gown, Serena felt her heart sink. “Good evening, Miss Prentice.” The husky contralto held the faint musical quality of an unidentifiable foreign accent. The woman stood across the room, gazing at her with cool, almost calculating eyes. “I am Catherine Abbeton, the Countess Van Herold.” “I know.” Serena cleared her throat when she heard how thin her voice sounded, lifting her chin and staring back with what she hoped looked like reasonable poise. A light laugh echoed outward. “Of course, so you do. You came calling on me, didn’t you? Much,” she added with a slight wave of one long-fingered hand, “to my surprise. Tell me, does your father know you are here? You’re lucky I am not entertaining, which I do often. It would be the talk of London if someone saw you here.”

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THE ARRANGEMENT “No, he doesn’t know.” Still standing there wrapped in her damp cloak, she shook her head. “He thinks I am unwell and sleeping in my room. My maid will make sure he doesn’t discover the deception.” “I didn’t think he would allow you to make a visit such as this one. And Rayne? Does he know?” The question was asked delicately. At the reference to the man she was going to marry, Serena stiffened. “Of course not.” “Ah…so this is woman to woman, is that it? Are you here to scratch my eyes out? To rant and scream at me?” “I wanted to see what you looked like,” Serena said bluntly. Standing by the flickering light of the fire that burned brightly in a hearth framed by an ornate Italian marble mantle, the countess looked openly amused, the leaping light showing the gleam of her teeth. “To assess the opposition, is that it?” “Perhaps.” To her dismay, her eyes filled with involuntary tears and Serena turned away, blinking rapidly, swallowing hard. She was a fool, she’d known it was useless to come here …Rayne Talbot—handsome, charming, a noted lover of other women, hated her, and the notion she could ever change that was ludicrous. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll pour you something to drink, perhaps some sweet wine? Here, let me take your cloak. You are shivering. Sit by the fire.” The offer was unexpected and kindly, spoken softly from directly behind her. She felt hands at her shoulders, tugging the heavy fabric of her wrap loose. The countess was correct, she found she was shaking, but she wasn't sure if it was from the cool, sodden evening outside or the abject bleak misery she felt inside. And very unexpectedly, she found herself sitting in a chair by the crackling blaze, a crystal glass of some sort of pale gold liquid in her hands. The warmth did seem to help, as did the beverage, the sweetness belying the potency as she felt it settle like fire in her belly. Aware that Catherine Abbeton had seated herself in a chair opposite, a glass of the same substance in her pale fingers, she said in weary explanation, “Rayne doesn’t want to marry me.” “No,” Catherine agreed, sipping from her glass, her gaze narrowed, “he doesn’t. But it isn’t personal, child. He merely hates being manipulated like any normal male.” “I’m not manipulating him.” “No, but you are a symbol of the control his father is exerting over his life.” 8

Emma Wildes “He’s discussed this with you, then.” “Yes.” The utter honesty of that reply somehow made her feel a little better. Straightening a little, Serena said quietly, “You know him well. I don’t know him at all.” The countess’s eyebrows drifted upward. “We—he and I, have been friends for years.” “Friends,” Serena repeated. She knew just what kind of friends the very handsome Rayne Talbot and this beautiful woman were. Sipping her wine slowly, she lowered the glass and said quietly, “Your friendship is just what I came here to discuss.” “Let me guess, you wish me to …withdraw from the field, hoping it will make him turn to you once you are wed?” “No,” Serena felt emboldened by both the wine and the countess’s lack of true hostility. She said on a quick breath, “I want you to tell me how to seduce him.” Catherine was a vastly experienced woman and never in her life had she been confronted by a young woman asking her to help her lure an errant husband back to her bed. Not that the devastatingly attractive Rayne Talbot was precisely this girl’s husband yet, but it was inevitable, he had informed Catherine curtly, after downing a half a bottle of brandy in record time the night before. His father had arranged to covertly take over the company he had so carefully built out of hard work and sweat, the other investors all close friends that would lose everything if he didn’t comply. And this lovely young thing sitting in front of her was right, he was furious. Serena Prentice might be innocent and unworldly, but she was brave, and Catherine admired that. “Why would you want to?” she asked, watching as the young woman sipped daintily from her wine glass. “He’ll have to come to your bed anyway.” “Hating me,” said Miss Prentice, the evidence of tears springing again in her wide blue eyes. “He barely looks at me, even now. I realize that he is being forced into this situation, but so am I. I don’t precisely want to marry a stranger, one who doesn’t want to wed me, much less a man who hates my father and includes me in his antipathy.” Used to a lifetime of privilege, Catherine suggested, “Refuse then. Surely your father wants you to be happy.” 9

THE ARRANGEMENT “My father wants his way. With no direct heir he knows that if I bear a male child, he can will his fortune to him even if the ducal title passes on to some distant relative living in the colonies. Considering that Rayne’s father is his closest friend, they have hatched this convoluted plan to combine their bloodlines.” Miss Prentice looked distinctly bitter as she sat there and stared into her glass, “And cut be damned,” she added softly, “to my happiness.” “Or Rayne’s,” Catherine murmured softly, watching through half-closed eyes. “Unless,” Miss Prentice said evenly, “I deny living my life in suffering of my father’s wishes. I have thought about this at length and if Rayne and I could form an-attachment, maybe it wouldn’t be so awful for both of us.” Awful and bedding the young woman sitting across from her didn’t quite fit into the same sentence. Leaning back in her chair, her wine nearly gone, the whisper of the autumn rain caressing the windows, Catherine noted with a connoisseur’s eye that Rayne’s young bride-to-be was delicately beautiful, a fact she was sure he would come to appreciate—at least eventually. Fine-featured, with high cheekbones in an oval face, she was, in fact, strikingly lovely. Her hair was an unusual dark gold, her skin creamy and unblemished; her long-lashed eyes large and appealing. However, her gown was new but unfashionably cut to conceal her charms rather than reveal them, and whoever had dressed her shining hair had simply twisted it into a simple knot. Actually seduction wasn’t a bad plan. She knew for a fact he favored blonds and her fresh beauty was striking. “You’re lovely, I’m sure you’ve been told. After all, he’s a man, Miss Prentice, and they are so easily tempted.” “But the problem is,” the young lady said with candid charm, “I haven’t the slightest idea what to do.” Her first sexual encounter taking place was she was barely fifteen, which was almost two decades ago, Catherine blinked. “Offer yourself, my dear.” “Offer…myself?” A blush stole into the girl’s cheeks. “That won’t be easy since I can hardly get him to speak to me. Besides, we have never been alone together. And even if we were, I don’t think I would please him. My mother died when I was just seven and I have been off at boarding school ever since … I have very little experience around men.”

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Emma Wildes That confession made Catherine sit upright a little. This girl was naïve indeed to approach the woman reputed to be her intended husband’s mistress and ask for advice in the process of seduction. Naïve, perhaps, but…interesting. Serena added ingenuously and with defeat shimmering in her tone, “My approaching wedding night … he’ll hate me even more when he finds I’m petrified and ignorant.” “Then perhaps we should make sure you aren’t,” Catherine said smoothly, a faint quiver of excitement stirring inside. She had been bored lately. Very bored and this sweet child intrigued her. Perhaps it was time to mix pleasure with philanthropy and it amused her to think of Rayne’s reaction if he found out she had tutored his future bride. Leaning back in her chair, she felt her mouth curve in a feline smile. “Here, let me refill your glass, my dear, and we’ll discuss how to alleviate your little problem.” She added cheerfully, “And I think you must call me Catherine.”

**** The odd flush that had seemed to take over her body increased when Serena realized just where the countess had taken her. She’d drunk too much wine, at a guess, to actually be doing something like this. Since the entire evening had an unreal cast to it, Serena wasn’t quite as taken aback as perhaps she should have been to find herself in a lavishly decorated room that could only be the bedroom of her unexpectedly congenial hostess. Stopping uncertainly just inside the doorway, she heard the door softly close behind her and turned in time to see the voluptuous woman her reluctant fiancé supposedly bedded on a regular basis lock the door, the key flipping the tumblers with a soft click. “Please,” Catherine Abbeton gestured at the wide bed, hung with silk, “get comfortable.” On the bed? Serena might be inexperienced, but suddenly she felt…hunted. “You’ve been very kind,” she stammered, “but I probably should be leaving, my lady. As it is—” “Don’t be alarmed, I don’t bite.” A low laugh glimmered out. “You said you wished instruction on how to pleasure a man like Rayne Talbot, did you not?” The question, said in a low, amused tone, did very little to ease Serena’s uneasiness. How precisely did one learn such a thing? Warily, she nodded, watching the older woman as she walked across the length of the elegant bedchamber and kick off her 11

THE ARRANGEMENT slippers. “I’ll teach you,” Catherine said briskly, “if you still wish it. But you must comply, even if what I ask you to do seems embarrassing.” Since the act of sex was a complete mystery, the whole subject was a little embarrassing. But, Serena acknowledged that she had risked much already. It had taken setting aside her pride to come here in the first place, and if the countess was really willing to help her, she needed that help. “I wish it,” she said, barely moving her lips. If there was any chance of happiness in her unwanted marriage, she would have to fashion it herself. “The first rule,” the countess glanced over with amusement as she bent to lift her skirts and peel off her stockings from elegant pale legs, “is to relax. If there is anything an experienced man does not desire it is a stiff, nervous virgin in his bed.” Why on earth was the woman undressing? “I understand,” she whispered, watching as Catherine continued her leisurely disrobing. She was only too dismally aware of her lack of sophistication as she observed the lovely undergarments being discarded; something fascinating about the way the stockings were pulled slowly from her long legs. Once down to her lacy chemise, her abundant breasts spilling over the top, Lady Van Herold pivoted and smiled, “Come here.” She had promised to comply. Serena walked slowly across the room. Looking into her eyes, Catherine said, “You have to undress, do you understand that? I’ll help you.” “I--I--why?” “You’re skittish, it is understandable.” Deft fingers began to unfasten her dress. “You see, you must understand the enjoyment you can experience from the sexual act if you are to be able to give it to others. Rayne is used to attractive women who know exactly how to please him and are pleased themselves by what he does to their bodies. Does this make sense to you?” It did, but all Serena knew was that this woman, a virtual stranger, was taking off her clothes. And there was something in the lovely dark brown of the countess’s eyes that made her feel oddly warm, a hidden glimmer of excitement. Seconds later they stood inches apart, each clad only in the barest of sheer fabric, both barefoot. “Let’s take down your hair,” the countess suggested, tugging free the pins. “That’s better,” she murmured as the heavy tresses cascaded down. “It’s gorgeous, so 12

Emma Wildes thick and soft, the texture of silk.” With a soft touch, Catherine trailed a fingertip across Serena’s cheek. “You’re so young and pretty, my dear. Do I seem old to you?” Up close, she could see the faint lines near her eyes, but there was no doubt the woman was stunningly beautiful. Serena shook her head, swallowing hard. Their breasts were nearly touching, and she could smell the faint scent of lilacs. Titling her head, the countess put her warm hands on Serena’s shoulders. “Would it surprise you to know I desire to kiss you?” It did. Serena jerked slightly, eyes widening, shocked … and intrigued against her will. “Why would I want such a thing?” The question was slightly breathless. “You are beautiful, soft and smooth,” the hands slid down her arms in a light caress, “and your mouth is delectable. So pink and inviting. Women,” she murmured, as she moved her mouth a whisper closer, “are so much more subtle in their passions than men, who often simply maul you in their fervor. Let me teach you first how to kiss. Open for me.” When she felt the first brush of light pressure against her mouth, Serena fought the urge to recoil, not certain if she felt disgusted or fascinated. Their bodies were touching now, Catherine’s mouth warm with the wine they had drunk, and if this experience seemed surreal, her whole existence had spun out of control anyway. When Catherine slanted her head and her tongue started to caress and stroke, Serena simply shut her eyes and slightly opened her mouth to allow the liberty. It felt very decadent. It felt very nice, actually. Lady Van Herold’s mouth was soft and silky. What would it feel like to have Rayne Talbot kiss her? His mouth was masculine and hard, his well-shaped lips not the least feminine. Catherine, she noticed, was breathing quickly when she released her shoulders and stepped back. Her breasts quivered under the wisps of lace on the bodice of her chemise, the nipples elongated and visible. “Let’s move to the bed,” she suggested in a throaty whisper. And suddenly, even in her innocence, she recognized that the offer of instruction was not completely benign generosity. The countess liked this. Still uncertain, out of her element, Serena asked, “Isn’t this--unnatural?” Lifting a dark auburn brow, Catherine asked, “Two women together? Touching? Kissing?” 13

THE ARRANGEMENT “Yes.” “It is done all the time, believe me. Besides, there is no right and wrong in bed, my dear girl. Here,” reaching out, Catherine suddenly pulled the tie loose on her chemise and Serena felt it slide from her shoulders, “you’ll enjoy all of this, I promise…” The garment pooled at her feet, leaving her naked in front of the obviously wicked Countess Van Herold. And to her dismay, seconds later Catherine too had discarded her last bit of clothing, revealing full breasts and generous curves, the dark triangle at her thighs glistening. She said softly, “Like this.” Taking Serena’s hand, she guided her to the bed, instructing her to lie down. Feeling a little giddy, she complied, embarrassed at her nudity but a furtive unknown excitement stealing through her veins. Catherine climbed on the downy softness of the mattress, kneeling beside her, gazing downward, her gaze roving over her naked body, Serena feeling heat build into her face. “First you must understand the sensation of touch. Roll over.” Laying face down was infinitely less embarrassing, and when Catherine began to run her hands over her back, gently massaging, she relaxed a fraction. Long fingers worked over her, up and down her spine, rubbing her arms, sliding alarmingly lower to knead her bottom and thighs. Holding very still, Serena realized the friction was lovely and her muscles were loosening. Trying to picture doing the same thing to Rayne, however, was impossible. She couldn’t quite see herself rubbing his bare buttocks. “Does it feel wonderful?” “Yes,” she admitted into the thick coverlet. “Let’s do the front now, shall we?” Those same stroking hands urged her back over on to her back. “Your breasts,” her hostess said calmly, “are sensitive to arousal. Do you know how much?” “No.” Serena shook her head. “Let me show you.” Reaching out, Catherine cupped both of her breasts unexpectedly in her hands and began to caress her with the same deft skill. The sudden touch made her gasp, the light pressure unexpectedly stimulating, the gentle rub of questing fingertips pleasant and excitingly forbidden. “You don’t touch yourself, do you?” asked the countess conversationally as she lifted the soft mounds and gently molded them, the weight of the flesh in her warm palms. “You should.” 14

Emma Wildes Never having been touched at all, Serena could only try to control both her shock and breathing. “Feel, don’t think. Stop dwelling on what I’m doing and instead about how it feels.” Closing her eyes, she tried to obey. It was pleasant being stroked and fondled, and when she felt a sudden wet heat close over one nipple, she made a choked sound of protest, but didn’t move, following orders and lying very still, sensation washing over her. “Keep your eyes closed.” A wash of an exploring tongue over the other nipple almost caused her to cry out. And when the pressure of Catherine’s mouth settled to begin to suckle gently over the aching crest, she moaned out loud. “Do you feel wet between your legs?” It was a whisper against the side of her breast. “That’s perfectly natural. It means your body is responding. What a man—or woman, wants to know during lovemaking is that they are bestowing pleasure.” It was true. She did feel strange, almost limp yet tense at the same time, a certain throb beginning at the apex of her thighs. When the woman touching her shifted, she felt a trail of warm breath down her stomach and gentle pressure, as two hands pushed her legs apart. A long fingertip touched her most intimate place. And she allowed it spite of her scandalized sense of propriety, in spite of the fact she’d been locked with straight-laced schoolmistresses for the past years of her life. Catherine’s soft hair spilled over her bared thighs and across her sensitive stomach. “I promise,” Serena heard dimly, “you’ll like this very much, my sweet virgin. Rule two is when someone offers to pleasure you with their mouth, allow it.” And then she felt it, the first lap of warmth slip into her throbbing cleft, a stab of pleasure twisting in the pit of her stomach. She cried out, opening her eyes, realizing that the woman who had promised her scandalous instruction was now lying between her legs, tasting the most forbidden and secret part of her body, her mouth suckling her heated center just as she had suckled her breasts. The pleasure of it was like nothing she had ever imagined. She shook and moaned against her will, all her conscious thought focused on the fire between her wide open legs, her body humming in arousal. And as sensation built, 15

THE ARRANGEMENT she could not believe the climb, until suddenly she seemed to hurtle into a world of infinite physical joy, shuddering as she fell limply back and gasped for air. Catherine licked her lips, still able to taste the sweet nectar of Rayne’s prospective young bride on her mouth. The girl was undeniably lovely, twisted in the sheets, her slender body pink and flushed from her first orgasm, her perfectly shaped breasts heaving. It had been a stroke of genius to slip something into the wine to relax the girl, though she was still a little surprised the seduction had been so easy. Rayne could thank her, she thought smugly, later. At least now his future bride would look forward to their wedding night. Or perhaps she had been thanked enough already. She was so aroused her thighs were streaked with moisture and she could feel every beat of her heart pump between her legs. Lying back on the pillows next to the delectable Miss Prentice, she whispered huskily, “I doubt you’re ready or even willing to reciprocate and I’m impatient…so…” Her hand slipped between her legs, sliding into wetness, finding the already swollen nub that ached for attention. Using expert pressure, she began to pleasure herself with the slow circular motion of her fingers, aware that Serena was recovering somewhat from her first experience with sexual release, finally noticing what she was doing. “Another lesson, my dear,” she said, unable to conquer the slur of sexual excitement in her voice. “You don’t need a man, or even me, to give yourself,” the tide was rising and her voice caught in the back of her throat, “satisfaction.” It was instinct to spread her legs wide as she climbed toward her climax, and especially erotic with such a beautiful young pupil watching. Catherine felt her breasts trembling with each intake of breath, her hand working as she stimulated her straining flesh, her strangled cry as she reached the crest harsh in the quiet room. Frantically arching, she shook and convulsed in ecstatic release, her womb pulsing even after she let her hand fall limply to the side. Perhaps, she thought hazily, Rayne should send every young maid he terrified to her for carnal instruction. Her orgasm had been exquisite and her heart still pounded. When she had the strength, she turned on her side and smiled at the young girl lying next to her. “Anything else you want to learn, my dear?” 16

Emma Wildes Sitting up in a tumble of dark gold hair, Miss Prentice swallowed. “I … I don’t know.” Perhaps she should tell this little delicious virgin the truth, and since she intended to tell Rayne of this little interlude anyway, Catherine said frankly, “Rayne and I are not lovers. Years ago, yes, when we were much younger, but not now. He and I found we are better friends than lovers, and actually, I like men occasionally, but …I prefer women.” Serena lost a little of her rosy flush, paling slightly. Reaching out a languid hand, Catherine brushed the underside of one of her young, firm breasts. “Are you surprised? I found you …delightful.” “You said—” “That you need to learn the joy of sexual gratification before you can pleasure a lover. That’s true, man or woman.” Catherine felt a little amused and still amazingly aroused, lying in bed with a beautiful nude young nymph, one of her favorite things. Rayne was a fool if he let this luscious girl slide through his fingers because of some sort of vendetta against his father. “Wasn’t the feeling of climax deliciously pleasurable?” she asked. “It can happen when a man is inside you.” Had she ever been so innocent? Catherine wondered when she saw the faint gathering of Miss Prentice’s dark blond brows. If so, she couldn’t remember it. She asked, striving to hide her world-weary amusement, “Do you even know exactly how the act of love is consummated, my dear?” “No.” The admission was made on a soft breath. Dark blue eyes met her gaze with rueful honesty. “Do you want me to tell you?” “That’s the object,” Serena said pointedly, “of me being here, isn’t it?” Catherine chuckled, rolling to one elbow, enjoying the fact that her young guest’s graceful nude body was close enough to touch. “Lie back down and I’ll explain.” And at the palatable hesitation to follow her request, she added persuasively, “Have I done anything to hurt you? In fact, I think the question would be, have I done anything except give you pleasure? You’ve come this far, it would be a pity to not gain everything you can from this experience.” 17

THE ARRANGEMENT Biting her pink lower lip, the girl hesitated a second longer, but then shrugged and settled back on to the mattress. “When a man gets sexually excited the male organ hanging between his legs swells and expands to a much larger size,” she began in a pragmatic tone, “becoming very hard and erect. His instinct and desire is to put it inside you because the friction of thrusting it in and out of your body is apparently immeasurably enjoyable, and when he ejaculates, his seed is conveniently deposited next to your womb. If you conceive a child, that babe is birthed through the very same opening, so it is obviously very elastic.” The aphrodisiac she’d put in the wine had the effect of making one a little sleepy, and Serena looked indeed as if she were beginning to drift, her body pliant, and when Catherine gently lifted her thighs, bent her knees, and set her feet on the bed so her cleft was exposed and wide open, Serena didn’t do more than let her lashes drift a little lower. Lifting her hand, Catherine skimmed it through dark blond curls that were still damp, and purred, “What a lovely, lovely, pussy.” The lovely Serena simply watched her, almost as if unwillingly mesmerized Stroking those soft, inviting folds, she instructed, “He would enter you here,” and slipped one finger inside. Serena gasped, her inner muscles clenching slightly at the invasion. She was delightfully tight, her opening small. Virgins were not her usual sexual fare, and Catherine felt a certain sense of heightened pleasure as she explored the silky tissue of her vaginal passage with a questing touch, finding the barrier of the girl’s innocence. Her breasts flushed and tightened and she actually stifled a moan in the back of her throat it was so uniquely exciting. Beginning to ease her finger in and out, imitating the carnal act she described, she said in a low tone, “He will pull out and push back in like this, though a man’s erect cock is much larger and will stretch you,” and on an afterthought, added truthfully, “and Rayne is particularly large. It will hurt the first time, but the pain passes quickly.” “Oh,” Serena breathed. “Does this feel nice?” Miss Prentice didn’t have to answer that one, Catherine noted with satisfaction. Her nipples had hardened and she began to move instinctively against the slide of penetration into her body. And when the finger was removed, the soft sound she made sounded distinctly like disappointment. 18

Emma Wildes Catherine laughed, moving between the girl’s silky thighs, her breath warm against her heated, exposed sex. She whispered, “Don’t worry, my sweet child, I’ll not leave you wanting. Besides,” she licked the pink folds of her labia playfully, “who knows when I will ever get to taste someone so sweet and pure again.” Pressing her mouth to that yielding enticing flesh made her own body pulse, and when she sucked the swollen nub of desire gently and Serena Prentice cried out, her thighs tightening, she fought a rush of physical sensation long forgotten. Rayne might have to share his new wife, she thought in pure carnal bliss.

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THE ARRANGEMENT

Chapter Two

“You did what?” Sweeping across the dance floor, Rayne almost stumbled, not certain he’d heard correctly. Catherine laughed out loud, her own rhythm flawless. Leaning forward, she said in low admonishment, “Careful, darling, people will be dying to know what we are saying to each other.” Looking down at the woman waltzing so gracefully in his arms, he said through his teeth, “Who cares. I think perhaps we need to take a moment outside, my dear.” Guiding them through the throng with expertise as they danced, he spun Catherine through the open doors on to the terrace, the rush of cool air welcome after the whirl and heat of the ballroom. There were a few other couples seeking refuge outside as well, so when he halted, his hands still on her waist, he transferred his grasp to one of her slim wrists and tugged her toward the steps into the gardens. “This way,” he muttered, “somehow I think this particular discussion needs complete privacy.” “It’s damp,” Catherine protested petulantly, “and this dress is new, darling. Have a care, because silk stains so easily.” “Buy another one,” he suggested darkly. But she was right, the paths between the dying flowers were a little wet from the recent rains, but that also meant they were deserted. When they were far enough he was sure no one could hear them, he halted and let her go. “Now,” it was a demand, as he stared down at her, “please tell me I didn’t hear you correctly just a few seconds ago.” His former mistress was splendid as always in a low-cut gown the color of aged wine, her dark coloring set off by the white contrast to her skin, her mouth set in a slightly sulky pout that he knew from experience was an act. “I seduced her,” she said again with obvious relish, “your lovely little fiancée.” “Catherine…Good God, are you insane?” 20

Emma Wildes Her dark eyes were limpid with feigned innocence. “What do you mean? I thought you might be grateful, actually. Shrinking virgins are surely a bore.” Stifling the urge to shout, he controlled himself with effort and said evenly, “Grateful that you took the young girl that is going to be my wife,” he ground out the unpalatable word, “and taught her depravity and wanton license?” “I’m not depraved, darling, just …adventurous.” Her laugh rang out, low and musical. “You prefer sex with women.” Standing there in the damp moonlight, she lifted one dark brow. “So do you, Rayne, dear. But, word has it, not this particular one.” “Not that particular one,” he agreed, suddenly questioning himself why he was so upset. “However, I would not appreciate the woman I marry having your same inclinations.” “She doesn’t,” Catherine sighed with obvious regret, “I can always tell. Oh, she enjoyed it, but no more than if you had done the same things to her rather delectable body. Besides, I might have given her just a very small—almost miniscule, actually, something in the wine she drank to enhance her …sense of adventure.” Delectable. Was his wife-to-be delectable? Catherine might be self-indulgent, discreetly promiscuous, and inherently sexual, but she was discriminating and all of the women he’d known to be her lovers had been as beautiful as she was herself. “You drugged her?” he asked, amusement at war with outrage in his voice, “Jesus, Cat, this just gets better and better. An alley cat is more moral than you are. What do you think that old bastard Carlton would do if he found out you defiled his precious daughter? You aren’t completely immune to power like his—look what is happening to me.” She lifted her gleaming shoulders in a shrug. “I didn’t defile her, I enlightened her. She’s still a virgin, for heaven sakes. All I did was give her her first orgasm.” Then, apparently reliving the moment, she gave a delighted shiver and admitted, “And her second.” “You’re joking.” “Not at all. And actually, my dear Rayne, she only came to me because of you. So, I suppose, when you come down to it, what happened was entirely your fault.” 21

THE ARRANGEMENT Standing there, the wet smell of earth and decaying flowers heavy in the air, he rubbed his jaw. “The hell you say, how so?” “You ignore her.” “I don’t know her.” “Well,” Cat said pointedly, “she thinks you hate her.” It was possible she could come to that conclusion, he admitted to himself. Out loud he rasped, “She came to you? Why?” Catherine’s glossy hair gleamed in the faint moonlight, and her smile was distinctly mischievous. “She showed up on my doorstep several evenings ago, very nervous but utterly determined to see me. It seems she wants to seduce you. She hopes to stir your sexual interest enough that you might abandon at least some of your antagonism toward this marriage. That’s why,” she purred, “she was so deliciously easily enticed into my bed. I’m guessing she hoped to learn the secret of whatever kept you coming back to me.” And all of England thought he fucked the seductive Countess Van Herold on a regular basis. Truth was, Rayne had never for a second considered that the girl he was bound to unwillingly marry would be hurt by those rumors, or that she sought to gain his regard in any way. The few times they had been together, he realized grimly, he’d been most distinctly and unpleasantly cold and impolite. But then again, in his defense, he’d never been alone with her, and he despised her father so thoroughly for manipulating him into this unwanted marriage that just the sight of him set his teeth on edge. So this young chit, he mused darkly, kept so carefully in expensive schools meant only for young ladies from the highest classes, guarded every second of the day by maids and chaperones, had somehow escaped and found her way to the home of one of the most notoriously sinful and noble seductresses of the haute ton. Because she wanted to seduce him. Damnation, he thought darkly, he probably was to blame. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said grimly, “I think I have a call to make.” And stalking away, he left Catherine standing there in the dank October dark. As he left, he heard her murmur playfully, “Please give sweet Serena my fondest regards, will you?”

**** 22

Emma Wildes The knock on her door made her frown, folding her book shut and glancing at the clock by her bedside. It was nearly eleven o’clock. “Just a moment,” she slipped out of bed and reached for her dressing gown. Holding it in front of her, she went and opened the door a fraction, finding to her surprise, Helton, the butler, standing there, a stiff, disapproving look on his face. “Forgive me, my lady, but there is gentleman downstairs who insists on seeing you now, despite the inappropriate hour and the fact that your father is not at home.” A gentleman? “Who is it?” she asked, surprised. She had only been home from school a few weeks and her father wanted her debut into society to be at the lavish engagement party he was planning, so it wasn’t as if she actually knew anyone. “Mr. Talbot, my lady.” “And Talbot is right behind you.” At the sound of the deep voice, Serena stiffened. Sure enough, when she peered past Helton’s stout form, there was a tall man standing in the hallway, his face shadowed by the dim lighting. “Sir,” Helton normally unruffled under any circumstance, sputtered, “this is most-most …” “Unconventional?” Rayne Talbot suggested, edging past the older man to push the door open and step into the room, one dark brow lifted. “You’ll have to excuse us, I’m sure, as I need to talk privately with my betrothed.” Serena found herself backing up until she actually bumped into the bed, astonished at both his arrival on her doorstep and more so, at his presence in her bedroom. And when he shut the door in poor Helton’s horrified face, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh hysterically or start screaming. “You can stop clutching your robe at your throat as if I’m here to ravish you, Miss Prentice,” he said coolly, his dark eyes direct, his gaze disconcerting. “I just didn’t care to wait an hour downstairs while you dressed and did whatever it is that females think is necessary to make yourselves presentable.” She blinked, not sure what to say, self-consciously letting go of her robe. Underneath she wore only a thin nightdress and he made no secret of standing there and studying her, a slow definite perusal that went slowly from each detail of her face to what he could see through her gown, to where her bare toes peeked out under the hem. 23

THE ARRANGEMENT In turn, she stared back. In their brief encounters, she had thought him almost austerely handsome, his features chiseled and intensely masculine; arched brows over dark eyes, a straight nose, lean jaw, and hard modeled mouth. He was tall and wideshouldered; his perfectly-tailored evening clothes stark black and white without a hint of foppish lace or other ornamentation so popular. He seemed to fill the room and be overpoweringly male. “Catherine described you as delectable. I now see she was correct,” he said softly. “I have seen you before, but not actually looked at you, I suppose. My apologies for my boorishness in the past. My only excuse is that at nearly twenty-eight, I am not amiable to my life being dictated by someone else, much less my father. Or yours.” Catherine had described … He knew! “She told you?” Her hands flew to her cheeks as she gasped out the question, as if she could stem the tide of heat rising there. Glad the bed was behind her, she felt as if her knees would buckle under the sheer tide of embarrassment sweeping over her, sagging against it. “She couldn’t wait to tell me,” he confirmed with a hint of ironic amusement in his voice. “She seems most enamored of your charms, Miss Prentice.” Her intention had been to see if his reputed mistress would reveal what it took to please a man like Rayne Talbot. Instead she had no doubt disgusted him with her wanton, deviant behavior. Lips trembling, she said, “I cannot explain my actions, sir.” He laughed then, lighting his face, giving her a glimpse of the man he actually was when not faced with blackmail and forced marriage. “Don’t fret, my dear, you were coerced by one of the most persistent and experienced seducers I have ever met, and your capitulation aided by a draught in your wine. I suppose she just couldn’t resist the temptation. Catherine is an intelligent, learned woman, generous by nature, and I count her as a good friend, but she is also ruled in many ways by her sensuality.” “A draught in my wine,” Serena recovered a fraction, relieved he didn’t seem overtly appalled by her shocking encounter with the beauteous countess. “I did feel very odd,” she confessed, still blushing, “like I wished to resist her but could not.” “Just don’t think,” the man standing a few feet away told her, “that I wish you to repeat the liaison. How much did you enjoy it?” 24

Emma Wildes The memories of a warm tongue leisurely pleasuring her between her legs made her blush intensify. And apparently he could read her mind. “I can do the same things,” he said softly, one brow lifting, “and much more.” More? She remembered the sensation of being lightly penetrated by Catherine’s finger. What would it feel like, she wondered with an inward shiver, looking at the tall man before her, to have something bigger—much bigger according to his former mistress, moving in and out of her body? Her breasts tightened, the nipples suddenly tingling. “Tomorrow,” he said abruptly, “be ready at nine o’clock.” Confused, she repeated, “Nine o’clock, why?” “We’re getting married. I already have the special license.” “I’m afraid my father is out of town. He won’t be back until noon at the earliest.” His smile was grim satisfaction. “I know.” Tomorrow. It sounded very final and much too immediate. “But …there’s a party in a few weeks to announce our engagement, the invitations have already gone out. And the wedding isn’t supposed to be for months.” “It may be petty revenge,” he explained calmly, “but I have had my solicitor go over the marriage contracts carefully and there is nothing in there that says we have to bow down to either of our father’s dictates on the celebration aspect of this arrangement. If, to regain control of my company, I have to wed and impregnate you, I think we should get started as soon as possible, don’t you?” It sounded very cold when stated that way, but in a sense he was right, it seemed rather hypocritical to toast the coming nuptials of two people who barely knew each other and were being forced to marry. Get started. That meant … He smiled again. “And by the way, Miss Prentice, I find I am now looking forward to the process.”

**** Rayne crossed his study and reached for the brandy decanter.

25

THE ARRANGEMENT His session with the duke’s pretty young daughter had been interesting and he was sure the outraged butler would tell Carlton in great detail how he barged into her room and spent time alone with her while she was dressed in only her night clothes. Oh well, all the old bastard wanted was for Rayne to get her pregnant anyway, breeding the coveted Prentice-Talbot heir. And while he detested the notion of being used like a prize stallion, valued only for his ability to reproduce, his body predictably swelled at the memory of how she had looked, wide-eyed and innocent, her slender body draped only in light creamy fabric. Well, perhaps wide-eyed, but not so innocent after spending a night in the bed of an infamous courtesan. He could see now why Catherine, not well-versed in self-control in the first place, had succumbed to the potent attraction of Carlton’s daughter. That part of his marriage he was looking forward to, at least now. His erection hardened further as he pictured himself between those long slender legs, pumping his seed inside her as he pleasured them both and did what was necessary to regain his hard-earned shipping business. Catherine had said she thought he would appreciate her wanton seduction and he wondered now, after his first outraged reaction, if she wasn’t right. He’d seen the flare of reaction in Serena’s lovely eyes when he’d promised to pleasure her as well and better. If his former mistress had awakened sensuality in his young bride to be, well, perhaps that would be to his advantage. Tomorrow, he thought and lifted his glass in a silent toast, he would find out.

26

Emma Wildes

Chapter Three

Serena could hear herself repeating her vows from far away, as if another creature were saying the sacred pledges. Her father, she knew, would be furious at being outmaneuvered of his grandiose plans for an opulent, extravagant wedding celebration that would showcase both his wealth and his triumph in succeeding in what he believed to be a perfect match. And she took a secret pleasure in that knowledge. Rayne’s voice was calm, strong, as he promised to love and honor her and his fingers steady as he placed the ring on her finger. His kiss was nothing but a perfunctory brush on her cheek. With only two witnesses, there was no post-ceremony fanfare, and he simply led her from the nearly deserted church and politely helped her into a waiting carriage. She was married. To the very large, very attractive, very formidable male sitting across from her, his long legs extended carelessly, his inner thoughts a mystery. Dark eyes inscrutable, he watched her steadily as they pulled away on to the street. It was very odd to think of him as her husband, suddenly having as much control over her life as her father. Clearing her throat uncomfortably, she asked, “Where are we going now?” “To a very small, very discreet hotel where no one can find us for the next day or so.” Not bothering to conceal her surprise since she knew he had his own townhouse not far away, she frowned. “Why?” His smile was nothing more than a sardonic curve of his well-shaped lips. “Because this infernal bargain I’ve made with our fathers says I must first wed, and then bed you.” He cocked a brow. “I’ve already done one and wish to take care of the other with expedience. When your father reads the paper this afternoon, our wedding 27

THE ARRANGEMENT announcement will be in it. I predict he will be livid and his outraged appearance on my doorstep might be disconcerting, depending on what we are doing at the time.” She blushed, she couldn’t help it, and his open declaration of sexual intent made her shift slightly on the seat. “Why,” she blurted out, because she needed to know, “did they have to go to such lengths anyway? Since your older brother’s death, you are your father’s heir. Don’t you feel bound by duty to marry as he wishes?” “Bound by the wishes of a man who has never understood me, never even tried to show me affection, and only conveniently noticed my presence on this earth because Robert had the bad grace to break his neck by falling off his horse?” Rayne laughed softly, but the sound had no mirth. “Please understand, lovely Serena, I grew up as a second son, therefore had little value in my father’s eyes. I was simply the contingency to the disaster that he didn’t expect to happen. I left home at seventeen and built my own life from nothing, not even accepting a monthly stipend. The business he has stealthily taken over means a great deal to me—it is the symbol of my triumph over his indifference.” “And to get it back, I must bear you a male child?” she said almost dully. “I don’t suppose at any time, my feelings were ever taken into consideration.” “I am not a cruel man, nor I think, ruthless and uncaring,” he said, his dark gaze direct, “and Catherine told me the only reason you sought her out in the first place was to try to learn how to please me. Perhaps together we can make something …acceptable from this forced union. Tell me, do you find me attractive?” She couldn’t help it, her gaze drifted over his well-muscled form, his formal attire a foil for his dark good looks. “Yes,” she admitted. “I’m attracted to you as well. Your hair is the color of soft gold, a particular favorite of mine. And despite your innocent body, I sense you have an innate craving for the physical aspects of what happens between a man and woman.” His mouth twitched and he added wickedly, “Or a woman and a woman.” Flushing again, Serena felt an unexpected rush of heat between her legs, almost as if Catherine’s mouth was there, pleasuring her. “I was drugged,” she said defensively. “You told me so.” “The drug makes you more receptive, but if there isn’t a certain curiosity and desire in the first place, it makes no difference.” 28

Emma Wildes Oh God, it was mortifying--and a little arousing, to be discussing this with him. Especially since he was looking at her with such smoldering heat in his eyes. The carriage rocked to a halt, almost startling her. Smiling, he informed her, “We’re here, my dear.”

**** His new bride had actually eaten very little of the sumptuous repast he’d ordered, and he sensed that her nervousness mixed with anticipation was the problem. The air in their lovely hotel room fairly radiated with it. He hadn’t exactly eaten his normal share either, guilty of allowing his own eagerness for what was to come to outweigh his usually healthy appetite. In fact, just watching her daintily chew and swallow her food had given him a throbbing erection. She was still technically a virgin, he reminded himself as he folded his napkin and set it aside. But, she was also initiated, a treacherous voice in his head whispered. Catherine had undoubtedly taken the most pleasurable liberties with her young body. And the thought of that—of Catherine’s undeniably talented tongue plunging between the soft, weeping folds of his new wife’s warm sex, made him stand up abruptly. “Are you finished?” “Yes,” her reply was hushed, her eyes lowered. But she trembled when she stood. Looking into the blue depths of her eyes, he asked softly, “Are you afraid?” “Catherine said it would hurt.” “Ah--well, so it does, I’m told, but for only a moment, just as I take your maidenhead. It’s over quickly.” Her cold fingers tightened against his as he took her hand. “It’s light outside,” she protested, “not even noon.” Amused, he led her toward the bed, knowing that the strict orders he’d given that they shouldn’t be disturbed would be followed. “People consummate their passions at all hours, Serena. The curtains are drawn, no one will see us.” “They do?” He loved the slightly breathless quality of curiosity in her tone, the hint of underlying excitement. Instead of protecting his pretty daughter from the temptations of the world by locking her away most of her life, Rayne contemplated, the duke had made 29

THE ARRANGEMENT them such a mystery that she was intensely interested. “Yes, they do. Shall I help you undress?” “I--” a falter caught at her voice, “yes, I suppose. We have to do this, don’t we?” “Oh yes,” he told her softly, “we most certainly do.” Her dress was overtly modest and the truth was, he was dying to see what lay beneath those layers of concealing cloth. With swift fingers he undid the fastenings of her gown, lowering it from her shoulders, hooking his fingers in her chemise and taking it with his anxious hands. Just as insistent with the rest of her clothing, he ignored the furious color in her cheeks and stripped it away, leaving her nude before him. “Your hair,” he murmured, realizing his voice sounded husky and thick. He freed the thick mass, letting it cascade across her creamy shoulders. She was perfection; young, firm, full and soft, all veiled by a curtain of amber waist-length curls. His erection—already at full mast, lengthened, strained against his breeches. Lifting his bride in his arms, he carried her to the bed, nestling her body against the ivory sheets, savoring the sight of a naked woman and satin superimposed. Slowly removing his jacket, he watched her as she lay there, her gaze following his every movement. Unbuttoning his shirt, he shrugged it from his shoulders and reached for the fastenings on his pants. Her gaze, so very blue, widened in alarm when she saw his swollen shaft spring loose. Swallowing, she blurted out, “God in heaven.” “I’m flattered, of course, but I assure you, perfectly normal.” “It’s too big.” Entertained by her naïve assumption, he asked, “How would you know?” She stared, as if unwillingly fascinated by the throbbing length pulsing against his stomach. “Catherine …put her finger inside me. Even that felt--I mean—” “You can accommodate my size, dear wife, I promise.” Stepping out of his clothes and kicking them away, he approached the bed, pleased to see that she didn’t cower away, but instead lay pliant and obedient against the sheets. They had the whole afternoon, he reminded himself, no need to rush. Climbing on to the bed, he lay down beside her and leaned over to brush a light kiss against her mouth. She tasted soft and sweet, her lips parting in an instant in a very unmaiden-like request for his tongue. Obviously she’d been kissed before. 30

Emma Wildes Damn Catherine, he thought in exasperation. Slipping his arms around his wife’s body and pulling her close, he accepted the unspoken invitation and kissed her, thoroughly exploring her mouth, touching the tender corners, skimming his tongue over her smooth teeth, deeply penetrating each crevice. When he finally lifted his head, she was breathing very quickly, her eyes half-closed. “I knew it would be different,” she breathed. And his body tightened in almost painful reaction. “Better?” he asked, nibbling at her jaw. “Yes.” Dear God, he might just explode then and there. Controlling his unruly body, he whispered in her ear, “Tell me,” he urged, the soft weight of her breasts against his chest delightful, “what else you think might be different.” “I don’t know.” Her lashes fluttered. “Did she kiss your breasts?” “I--yes.” “Do you want me to do the same thing?” Not waiting for an answer, he shifted so he was on top of her lovely, slender body, deliberately pressing his hardness against her soft thigh as he began to nibble at the underside of one perfect breast. Her fingers threaded through his hair and she sighed, tugging him upward, and he obeyed, drawing a pink, full nipple into his mouth and sucking lightly, swirling his tongue over the cresting peak. Her reaction was a soft cry of pleasure. She was one of those women who had very sensitive breasts, he ascertained in the next few minutes. He fondled and caressed each in turn, cupping that soft, beautiful flesh, kissing and sucking her nipples until she shivered beneath him, aware she was already arching and very aroused. When his hand slipped between her thighs she didn’t resist, parting for his fingers, already damp and slick. Probing between her legs, he found she was very tight, the barrier he would have to break unmistakable to his questing finger. Serena moaned as he explored her passage, her legs falling farther apart, her glorious dark gold hair spread across the bed linens. “You like this,” he murmured, moving his finger back and forth. “Oh God, yes.” Her thighs opened further. 31

THE ARRANGEMENT Testing her, he pushed in a second finger and she moaned louder at the invasion, her hips lifting and accepting. His new wife was not only beautiful; she was a passionate creature, which was not an unpleasant discovery. He began to stroke her to climax, the wetness of her sexual fluids moistening his fingers as he penetrated her passage with his two fingers and then withdrew, each stroke bringing a soft cry, her pelvis twisting in arousal as he used his thumb to caress the small nub between her wet folds. He could see the pulse beating in her slender throat she as she threw back her head, her legs splayed wantonly for his carnal ministrations, her breath coming in gasps. When he felt the tremors begin in her womb, her inner muscles clenching against his thrusting fingers, he held her there on the brink of physical ecstasy, his fingers moving in gentle rhythm, her body shuddering over and over. Maybe, Rayne thought as he watched his new bride in the complete abandon of ultimate pleasure, old Carlton had actually done him a favor. Serena opened her eyes at the feeling of blunt pressure, her body still trembling from the force of her climax. Rayne was between her legs, she realized, his shaft stretching her entrance as he pushed forward into her vagina, his arms on either side of her body. Sinking her teeth into her lower lip, she braced herself. “Relax,” he instructed, leaning down to kiss her mouth, “you’re very wet and ready for me.” The crest of his engorged penis was already inside her, the feeling of fullness not too distressing. He withdrew slightly and surged forward again, penetrating a little further, and the inexorable sensation of being stretched wide made her catch her breath. He was huge, she thought frantically, and oddly, the idea of his enormous cock impaling her was exciting, not frightening. He moved forward another inch, a small bead of sweat running along his jaw. “It doesn’t hurt,” she informed him breathlessly, brazenly enjoying the feeling of invasion, the knowledge that he took the care not to hurt her comforting. “I’m--there. It might sting, just a bit, in a second,” he said regretfully, and suddenly thrust forward. She cried out, more in surprise than true pain, the ripping of her hymen not any more awful than a hard pinch or bumped elbow. What was more astonishing was how he 32

Emma Wildes filled her impossibly to bursting, the throbbing of his erection pulsing against the walls of her burning passage. His dark gaze was tender, almost regretful. “I’m sorry.” She sure as hell wasn’t. Her laugh was a gasp. “I’m quite fine. What comes next?” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” His smile was wolfish and darkly attractive. “You come next, hopefully.” Confused, she frowned, than caught her breath as he slid almost completely out of her body before surging in again. He was right, her body could accept his glorious size, expanding to take his insistent penetration. She found the friction deliciously pleasurable, enough to mitigate the slight tenderness, the explosive sensation tingling in every nerve ending. He moved leisurely between her open legs, his arms braced next to her shoulders, his hard chest above her bare breasts, the feeling of ultimate possession immeasurably exciting. “Here,” he paused, lifting her thighs, opening her further, pressing impossibly far into her body, hooking her legs around his waist. “This erotic dance,” he whispered in her ear as he sank in slowly, “can be performed in many ways, fast or slow. Tell me if you need to change the rhythm.” “How?” she breathed, intrigued, her hips lifting naturally in instinctive welcome. “Talk to me…if you can.” He laughed, a low, seductive sound, continuing his relentless cadence of in and out, his probing shaft piercing and retreating until she thought she would scream. Faster, she realized, she wanted it faster. Harder. “Please.” Her fingers flexed on his hard bare shoulders and savored the strength of the muscles there. “Please, what?” “I don’t know.” She was too new to this, too embarrassed to ask. “Do you want me to move differently?” “Faster,” she admitted. “Like this?” He increased the pace, plundering her body with swift strokes, his hips moving, his hard sex filling her, then retreating.

33

THE ARRANGEMENT She felt close to floating, her body tensing, readying for what was to come. Glorying in the act she had only imagined before this, Serena accepted his fluid motion, gasping as she rose against him, her eyes drifting shut in sheer pleasure. The intoxication of release swept through her like a tidal wave, her choked cry echoing outward as her husband stiffened and groaned in unison, his ejaculation flooding her inside with a searing spurt of hot fluid, his eyes tightly shut. A fine sheen of sweat coated his body and Serena tentatively allowed her fingers to smooth down his powerful back. His face was buried in her outspread hair, his chest lifting quickly against hers. She was mostly certainly bedded, she thought with wistful satisfaction. The bargain was sealed.

34

Emma Wildes

Chapter Four

“Good evening, gentlemen.” Rayne tugged at his gloves, strolling across the elegant, understated room, the gleam of evening rain on his hair. With smooth malice, he added, “Or is that term appropriate for two scheming, immoral blackmailers? You wanted to see me?” The two old men sat at their usual table in the corner. Both elegantly dressed, showing their age by the harsh lines near nose and mouth, they looked nothing alike but actually resembled each other only because of the expression of ruthless arrogance stamped on their features. His father’s face darkened at his comment, and he said curtly, “A modicum of respect would be appreciated. Considering your remarkable stubbornness, we did what was necessary. Please sit down, son.” Taking a chair, Rayne settled into it and lifted his brows in silent question. The duke cleared his throat. “How is Serena?” “We’ve bee married almost three weeks and you are just now inquiring how your daughter is adapting to married life?” Rayne didn’t bother to hide the contempt in his tone. “How very--dutiful of you. She’s fine, by the way, and I am discovering, thankfully, nothing like you.” Carlton didn’t look insulted, quite the opposite. Picking up his glass of port, he muttered, “She never was much like me. Always laughing and running about.” “You mean like a child?” Rayne drawled sarcastically, “She’s barely eighteen now.” “Old enough to marry and bear children. Do you want something to drink, Talbot?” “No, thank you, I doubt I’ll be staying long.” Rayne glanced at each of them and asked bluntly, “Just tell me what you want.” His father’s eyes narrowed. He was an older version of Rayne himself, with streaks of gray at his temples, still tall and vigorous. He nodded and said abruptly, 35

THE ARRANGEMENT “Since you could walk and talk you have enjoyed thwarting me at every turn, including your impetuous wedding. Carlton and I are concerned you will strive to humiliate us by not attending the party we’re throwing to celebrate your marriage tomorrow night.” “To ensure your cooperation, we would like to strike a bargain,” the duke added smoothly, sipping his port, his gaze glittering over the rim. “Forgive me if I’m a bit wary of any bargain involving the two of you.” “You’ve been raising funds to finance several new ships,” his father said, a faint confident smile on his mouth. “We’ll give them to you. However, you must arrive on time, and at least give the appearance of being the attentive husband and enjoying the celebration.” Rayne smiled back, shaking his head as he rose, signaling for his cloak. “Keep your ships, father, I’ll finance my own expansion, not to worry. However, you can both relax. I’ll attend the party. Not for you,” he explained coolly, “but because my wife is looking forward to it. I won’t have to feign attention to my bride either, because, the truth is, I find her delightful. Not just when we are engaged in the activity necessary to provide your precious heir, but all the time. She’s beautiful, intelligent, and yes, she has an endearing enjoyment of life.” He looked at Serena’s father and said softly, “It’s a pity you have never bothered to get to know her.” Leaving the exclusive club, he wasn’t certain if he wanted to feel fury or laugh out loud at the idea of those two old blackguards with their heads together, plotting a bribe that would ensure his good behavior. He felt exactly the same way when he walked through the door of his townhouse a little later and found he had a visitor waiting. “The Countess Van Herold is in your study, sir,” he was informed by his butler, a deadpan expression on the man’s face, concealing, no doubt, the shock he felt over his supposed mistress openly visiting him so soon after his marriage. Rayne was a little shocked himself. Sure enough, Catherine was comfortably lounging in a leather chair by the fire, her slippered feet extended, a glass of brandy in her hand. “Hello, darling.” Rayne purposely left the door open. “Cat, my dear, what are you doing here?” Her eyes widened with an innocence she hadn’t possessed in a very long time. “We are old, old friends. Surely your marriage isn’t going to change that, is it?” 36

Emma Wildes Crossing the room to pour himself a much needed glass after having to deal with his father, he responded dryly, “You and I both know we’re friends, nothing more, but society in general has a disbelief in platonic male female relationships. You know perfectly well that if I drop by your house for a drink or a chat, everyone believes—” “You’re fucking me,” she supplied with a quirk of one elegant auburn brow. “Yes.” He took a sip of brandy, ignoring her deliberate vulgarity. “So perhaps you should go.” “Speaking of fucking, where is the lovely Serena? I was hoping to see her and offer my congratulations.” Catherine was right, they were very old friends and he knew her well. He didn’t miss the shimmer of furtive excitement in her dark eyes or the way she shifted slightly as she said his wife’s name. “She’s out,” he said coolly, “and no, I will not allow it.” “Allow what?” “If you have an infatuation with my wife, get over it, Cat. Find some other young pretty thing to play with.” “I can’t stop thinking about her,” Catherine confessed, squirming a little again, her eyes half closed. “Those beautiful breasts and her delightfully warm sweet pussy—” “No,” Rayne said again, exasperated, trying to ignore the fact that her words brought decidedly carnal images to mind. He pictured Serena, legs spread, Catherine’s dark glossy hair tumbling over her thighs as his former lover licked and sucked her cleft…and he hardened against his will, swelling inside his breeches. The last thing she needed was the encouragement it would provide if she thought he was aroused by the idea, so he turned away and went to sit down at his desk. “I sorry, my dear, but I doubt Serena would even want your amorous attentions. She seems to enjoy mine very much.” He added with a grin, “and very often.” Catherine sat up a little setting aside her glass, asking eagerly, “Let me watch, then. God, Rayne, the thought of your cock hard inside her almost makes me come just sitting here, darling.” “Jesus, Cat, you’re shameless. Why don’t you go see that pretty widow you’ve been sleeping with, maybe she can …ease your current distress.” “You won’t consider it?” “No.” 37

THE ARRANGEMENT He was relieved that she took his advice and departed in a flurry of perfume and silk skirts, surprised she took the disappointment as well as she had. The trouble was, he was now in a bit of distress himself. Serena and Catherine, he imagined in spite of his resolve to forget about it, their bare breasts together, their thighs warm and fragrant with arousal, touching each other… Damn, he thought darkly, Cat could be such a bad influence.

**** Serena knocked lightly on the door of Rayne’s study. “You wanted to see me right away?” she said, entering at his bidding, seeing that he was seated behind his desk, a glass of brandy at his elbow. “How was your shopping?” he inquired, politely rising to his feet. “Nice,” she responded, a little uncertain as to why he was staring at her so intently, “my dress will ready on time, so that’s one thing off my mind.” “Excellent.” He came around the desk and she gave a small squeak of surprise as he swept her up into his arms, her skirts billowing around her. “I need you right now,” he whispered in ear, his breath warm, and his urgency apparent in the speed in which he carried her out into the hall and up the stairs. Shoving the bedroom door shut with his foot, he stalked across the room and deposited her on the bed. Serena half-sat up, a treacherous curl of anticipation unfolding in her stomach as he unfastened his breeches and freed himself, his erection pulsing and enormous. In three weeks of sexual congress with her new husband, she had never seen him out of control and when he shoved her skirts up and pushed her legs apart without so much as a kiss, she fell back and gasped, “Rayne.” “I promise a little more finesse in a few minutes, my sweet.” He was already mounting her, penetrating her passage, both of them still fully dressed. “You get wet so conveniently quick, God, you feel so good, Serena.” So did he. She gloried in the fact she could arouse him to such burning desire, and as he began to plunge in and out of her body, she tightened her thighs around his lean hips, her eyes drifting closed as she reveled in the sensation of being stretched and invaded by his rigid flesh, her own excitement fueled by his unabashed lust. In spite of his rapacious need, she climaxed first, or perhaps because of it, she wondered as she began to convulse in pleasure, clenching her inner muscles, letting out a 38

Emma Wildes small scream as he thrust hard and impossibly deep and groaned, the warmth of his sexual release coating the entrance to her womb. Her heart pounded as she lay there in the ensuing quiet, and she could feel the small pulses still rippling through his cock embedded inside her, sending little bursts of pleasure through her vaginal canal. Still poised above her, braced on his hands, Rayne suddenly grinned at her, almost boyish smile lighting his handsome face, his hair slightly disheveled but his cravat still pristine and perfectly tied. Leaning, down he kissed her softly on the mouth. “Perhaps,” he murmured against her lips, “finesse is over-rated after all.” “Perhaps it is,” Serena agreed, kissing him back, and then caught his hips as he began to withdraw. “Don’t go.” “We have entirely too many clothes on, my dear. And besides, it’ll take me a moment or two.” Kissing her again lightly, he pulled out of her, the evidence of both their desire smeared over his still half-rigid staff. Beginning to undress, he kept his dark gaze on her. “Don’t move,” he instructed softly, “do have any idea how sexy you look lying there with your skirts above your waist, your stockings and shoes still on, your legs still open as if you miss me? You’re wet with my seed,” his voice thickened, “and so beautiful it takes my breath away.” “I do miss you,” she whispered, his words making her already throbbing center pulse with almost painful force. “Come back.” “Oh, I have every intention of coming again,” he promised her wickedly. “And if you’re obedient and stay there just as you are, open and available for me, I’ll give you a special treat. Under all those clothes, tell me, are your breasts aching?” They were, hard and taut, her nipples straining against the confining material. “Yes.” Sitting down on the edge of the bed to pull his boots off, he asked in a teasingly conversational tone, “Do you want me to free them?” “Yes,” she admitted on a breath. “Lick them and suck on your nipples?” “Yes.” Closing her eyes, she could imagine the wet friction of his mouth and felt like moaning out loud. “You promise to keep your legs spread open for me?” “Oh God, yes.” 39

THE ARRANGEMENT When she felt the dip of the mattress she opened here eyes and saw him bend over her, magnificently naked, his erection returning. His long fingers unfastened the bodice of her dress and Rayne tugged it down over shoulders, baring her quivering mounds, pinning her arms. “Glorious,” he murmured, on his knees over her prone form, cradling them both in his warm, large palms. “There are women who had can come to orgasm just from the proper attention being given to their breasts, did you know that sweetheart?” All Serena knew was that her body was trembling and it felt beyond bliss to have him stroking her pliant flesh, his skilled fingers brushing her nipples. When he bent and began to suck, she arched, pushing her straining flesh farther into his mouth. He swirled against the crest, his tongue lathing and unbelievably hot while he kneaded the other breast in gentle rhythm. She was peaked full, the pleasure acute, and when he transferred his sweet torture to her other aching nipple, she thought she would die of the pleasure of it. He was right, she discovered, her body suddenly exploding with the rapture of his touch, quaking, her still open legs trembling as she cried out his name. She didn’t aid him as he stripped off her clothes finally, languid and satisfied, his hands working with swift precision to remove stockings and undergarments until she was nude. He was fully aroused again, she realized as he pulled her into his arms, his wellmuscled body strong and infinitely male against hers. Her hands came up against his chest, not sure she was strong enough for more of his potent lovemaking so soon, but he said, “I’ll wait for you, darling,” and began to slowly push between her thighs, the sensation vivid against her already burning cleft. True to his word, this time he went very slowly, filling her with care, whispering in her ear how much he enjoyed her body, how wet and tight she felt, how he had never wanted another woman as much as he did her. And it was those words, more than the sexy little phrases he spoke, that she found made her sigh in pleasure and run her hands over his broad shoulders in breathless response. Was it true, she wondered? More than any other woman he’d known? He certainly seemed to desire her and they actually seemed compatible in more ways than just the bedroom. And, having never known true affection, she wanted even more. 40

Emma Wildes She wanted him to fall hopelessly, madly, and completely in love with her. Like she was with him.

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THE ARRANGEMENT

Chapter Five

The crowd glittered; the music was excellent, the buffet table laden with exquisite dishes. Leaning against a pillar in the Duke of Carlton’s huge ballroom, Rayne watched his beautiful bride as she was whirled along in the arms of some well-dressed young man. She was enjoying herself and it was obvious that if her father hadn’t been so intent on wedding her to his best-friend’s son, she would have been a very great success in a formal season and had her pick of eager young bridegrooms. Well, perhaps she would have, he thought possessively, but that isn’t how things turned out and she was his. Without question. Shouldering his way through the crowd, he waited until the music ended and then advanced to take her hand, turning to her young partner and murmuring, “You’ll excuse me, I’m sure, if I monopolize my wife for a while.” “Of course.” Bowing, her ardent admirer left them, one last glance a dead giveaway. Rayne looked down into her flushed face. “I think he’s in love, sweetheart.” She blinked. “Who?” “The young buck I just chased away.” She laughed lightly, all glowing young splendor in an ivory dress that showed off the stunning beauty of her shoulders and creamy upper breasts. “I don’t even know his name.” “As long as he knows your name is Mrs. Rayne Talbot,” he muttered, taking her in his arms as the orchestra began a waltz. “Are you jealous?” she asked, glancing at him from under her long lashes. “I don’t know quite how to define my feelings,” he said honestly, then added softly, “I’m just glad you are having a good time.”

42

Emma Wildes She felt light and perfect in his arms as he swung her in time to the music, after a moment saying quietly, “My father danced with me, Rayne. He actually told me I looked lovely.” So maybe his pointed barb had gotten through to the old bastard after all. Rayne said truthfully, “You do.” Her gaze was downcast, her face pensive. “He never has said anything remotely like that before. In fact, I have always felt he barely knew I even existed.” “Believe me, I know how you feel.” His arms tightened, as if he could comfort the lonely little girl she had been. In spite of the fact they were dancing amid hundreds of people, her fingers, which had been resting lightly on his shoulder, crept up and touched his jaw. “I know you do. And how your father could be indifferent to someone as kind, intelligent, and remarkable as you, is a mystery to me. I think you’re--wonderful.” The emotion he saw shining in her lovely blue eyes was a revelation. Rayne wasn’t even aware that he’d halted, his young wife held close to his body as everyone swirled around them, staring down at her with a tight sensation in his chest. Her soft mouth felt perfect as he kissed her with unfashionable open affection in front of the entire haute ton, barely registering the collective gasps of the crowd. Smiling down into her face, seeing the rush of blood to her cheeks as she realized people had stopped dancing and were openly watching their very public embrace, he murmured, “The feeling is mutual, darling.”

**** The bedroom was dark and Rayne moved to light the lamp, going still. He stilled as the glow that sprung up revealed that someone was sitting in the chair by the fireplace. “I thought you would never get here.” The statement was both teasing and petulant. Next to him, he heard Serena’s swift intake of breath, telling him she was just as startled. Auburn hair glowed richly against pale bare shoulders. Smooth legs crossed, completely nude and unselfconscious, Catherine lounged backwards and sipped brandy from a crystal snifter. Smiling, she stretched a little, lifting her large breasts, and sighed, “I have been waiting ever so long for the two of you to come home. How was the party?” “Fine. How the devil did you get in?” 43

THE ARRANGEMENT A laugh. “The window in your library. It wasn’t locked. It felt a little naughty to creep up here, but it was fun.” Out of his depth as a newly married man, Rayne wasn’t sure what to do. He said on an expulsion of breath, “Look, Cat, this is outrageous, even for you. Get dressed and go home.” Her full lower lip stuck theatrically. “But I want to stay. We can have fun, the three of us. It isn’t like we don’t all know each other.” And his traitorous libido reacted instantly to that idea, his shaft hardening visibly. “See,” she said in a throaty whisper, looking pointedly at his thickening crotch, “you like the idea, darling.” “Do you?” Serena gazed up at him with those wide, lovely eyes. It made him uncomfortable. Innocent young wives were not what he was used to dealing with. But, his mind reminded him insidiously, what man wouldn’t want to see two beautiful women touch each other and then be available for him. Evasively, he said, “I’m currently outnumbered. I’m not sure my vote counts. This is your evening, sweetheart, I want you to be happy, that’s all.” “Oh,” Catherine breathed and uncrossed her legs, revealing her dark triangle of pubic hair, “you are always such a dear, aren’t you, Rayne.” Cocking one dark red brow, she added, “I think he might be falling in love with you, sweet girl.” “This is up to Serena.” His voice held clear command, not at all comfortable with the notion of love, but especially not comfortable with coercing his young wife into doing something she didn’t want to do. And Catherine leveled an expectant gaze on the girl standing next to him, lifting one brow, her crotch open and exposed. “Darling, remember how much fun we had the last time?” Rayne heard Serena swallow, knowing she was still a novice when it came to sex, but also knowing her deeply passionate nature. Turning, he looked down into her face and said gently, “You can say no, and she’ll leave. You can say yes, and still not be wicked or wanton. What happens between consenting adults is just pleasure, not something evil.” It was there in the depths of her blue eyes, just a glimmer of excitement, a hint of supplication. She lowered her gaze demurely and whispered, “I suppose …she can stay.” He fought the surge of stimulation that rushed through his body. “Very well.” 44

Emma Wildes Catherine smiled a purely feminine grin of triumph. Slowly getting to her feet, she breathed, “I’ll get her ready for you, if you don’t mind, darling …” Jesus, he thought tugging at his cravat as Cat approached Serena like a lioness stalking her prey; naked, her generous breasts swaying provocatively, her long-legged progress slow and measured. Serena, still fully dressed, didn’t resist as a nude Catherine slid her hands over her bare shoulders. “I like this gown,” his former mistress murmured, beginning to unfasten the buttons, her eyes gleaming in the uncertain light as she gazed in unmistakable lust at his young wife, “it shows off your most perfect breasts. Did you use the dressmaker I suggested?” “Yes,” Serena responded, her gaze lowered slightly. “Good girl.” Was he jealous? Rayne pondered his emotions uncertainly as he watched her begin to undress his wife. If he was, then he would stop the whole thing, he decided with authoritarian male privilege. But when Catherine slid off Serena’s dress and touched her fingers to the ribbon of her lacy chemise, he found he was infinitely not jealous, just extremely interested. It very much like unveiling a perfect work of art, the long length of Cat’s fingers tugging at the fastening, letting it fall away, and the garment sliding off. He caught his breath, sinking into a leather chair, his gaze narrowed on the two women now standing nude before him. The insistent throbbing between his legs was distracting, yet he couldn’t take his gaze from what was happening. Catherine moved, sliding her arms around Serena, her mouth touching her lips in a soft kiss. The sight of the two of them; naked, bare erect breasts together, kissing, was-amazing. If he had ever imagined that the sight of his own wife in another woman’s arms would be arousing, he would have thought himself insane. Yet as he watched Catherine delicately tasting his wife’s delectable mouth, skin to skin, he felt ready to explode. “Move to the bed,” he heard himself order on a suffocated whisper. His erection was at full attention, riveted, stiff and pulsing.

45

THE ARRANGEMENT Catherine winked at him before she pushed Serena toward the large bed on the dais in the middle of the room, a saucy gesture of mutual arousal. She murmured, “Don’t worry, she can accommodate us both …there’s no hurry.” And he clenched his teeth at that notion. “Yes,” he said tightly, “there is. Just a bit.” “Men are so impatient. In that case,” her laugh was low and throaty, “I’ll try to hurry. Is there something specific you want me to do?” “Damn you, Cat.” “Is there?” “Yes, and you know what it is.” “Free that glorious cock of yours, Talbot, and I’ll try.” She giggled lightly as she climbed on to the bed next Serena. Her hand crept out to lightly caress and cup one young breast. “God, I love how this feels, so full and luscious in my hand.” He did what she suggested, pulling off his boots abruptly while not taking his gaze from the two women on the bed, jerking down his breeches and freeing his swollen erection. Shrugging off his shirt, he moved toward them as they lay there, Cat perusing Serena’s body with one languid hand. “Roll onto your back,” he told Serena, holding the blue of her lovely eyes with his gaze. Her nostrils flared slightly as she complied, his weight dipping the mattress as he joined them. Catherine, her auburn hair trailing over her voluptuous shoulders, leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the mouth across Serena’s body. “You seem anxious. What,” she asked with a twitch of her full lips, “part do you want the most?” He wanted all of her, but also perversely wanted to see what Catherine wanted. He murmured, “Ladies …first.” “Oh God … thank you.” As he watched, Catherine’s slim hand slid from Serena’s breast down her stomach to between her legs. She shifted, and his wife made a slight sound, her expression shuttered, her breasts quivering as she lay there like a perfect pagan offering for their mutual pleasure. “This looks--delicious.” And Catherine lost no time pushing Serena’s slim thighs apart, burying her face in that soft apex, her mouth delving between the moist, folds, her tongue lapping lightly. 46

Emma Wildes The erotic sounds both women made were only eclipsed by the pounding of his heart. My God, to actually see Catherine nibbling at Serena’s feminine cleft was enough to send him over the edge. Her auburn hair was a contrast to the creamy white of Serena’s legs, and the pink of her tongue slipped in and out of those lush lips with obvious relish. He ran his hand over the quivering muscles of her flat stomach and stifled the urge to ejaculate. And when his wife moaned out loud, showing her enjoyment, he said roughly, “Let me finish this, Cat. Don’t worry, we aren’t close to done, but right now, I’m--dying.” Compliant because of the promise of further sex play, Cat obediently lifted her head and lay back. “That’s fine,” she murmured thickly, her hand drifting between her legs, “You know I want to watch you fuck her.” He rolled abruptly on top of Serena, between her open legs, saying politely, “Sorry, darling, but I really have to have you.” Then he thrust himself deep inside, knowing she liked it hard and fast, so impatient he felt a randy young boy again. And she gasped at the invasion, her hands flying to his shoulders. “Is she tight?” Catherine asked huskily, her hand rotating. “God, I know she is.” He couldn’t have answered if his life had hung in the balance. He moved in and out, deeply penetrating, withdrawing almost completely to just drive back inside her soft passage until he felt the hot rush of release on his skin, filling his rigid shaft, and spilling free as he surged one last time and groaned out loud in sheer unadulterated sexual completion as he climaxed with almost violent joy. Dimly, he could also hear Catherine’s ragged breathing and soft cries, knowing she’d found her own satisfaction. That left him looking into Serena’s beautiful blue eyes, her gaze at once wistful and amused; her top teeth sunk into her lower lip. She said dryly, “Forgive me, please, I don’t mean to sound selfish, but I think you both forgot about me.” And he laughed, breathlessly and spontaneously against the graceful curve of her neck. He bit her smooth skin lightly, playfully and said, “Not on your life.” It was an entrancing sensation. Two such beautiful creatures; one male, one female, both gazing at her with predatory lust. 47

THE ARRANGEMENT “She feels neglected,” Rayne murmured, and Serena found she was slightly jealous of the companionable glance he and Catherine exchanged. “Well,” purred the countess, “we simply can’t have that, can we?” “No, we can’t.” “Perhaps you’ll help me finish what I started?” “Certainly.” Rayne withdrew from Serena’s aroused but unsatisfied body, and the sensation of his still half-rigid shaft pulling out of her was disappointing. However, her heart pounded with anticipation, and when he moved to her side to allow Catherine to crawl back and lie down between her legs again, she moaned out loud without even being touched. Warm strong hands stroked her thighs and then lifted her legs, drawing them impossibly wide and high, holding her open as if in offering to the beautiful woman staring at her weeping cleft. Smoothing her hand over the mixture of semen and sexual fluid between Serena’s legs, Catherine deliberately paused and looked at her through half-lowered lashes. “I might say this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Be sure, now,” she admonished in a throaty whisper, “to watch me do this, my sweet child.” And she lowered her mouth. Lifted as she was, her thighs forced open by her husband’s firm grip, Serena found she did watch as the countess began to nibble and suck between her legs, her body trembling, the need for release so intense she didn’t even realized she panted and moaned at each tantalizing stroke of the tongue she could see licking her pulsing center. It was beyond decadent. It was beyond pleasure. “I can taste you both,” Catherine whimpered, “Oh, my God. I’m going to come again.” Her mouth became voracious, pressing harder, her hands cupping Serena’s quivering bottom as she ate and sucked. And Serena shattered with a high scream, still held high and open, Catherine keeping her on the brink of ecstasy for what seemed like a lifetime, her body quaking and shuddering in orgasmic release. She was barely aware when they let her go and both laid down on the big bed next to her, she felt so limp in the aftermath that the very blood seemed to have seeped from 48

Emma Wildes her veins. One of them stroked her breasts, she didn’t even care which, and the sound of ragged breathing filled the room. Drifting in lethargic contentment, she heard the detached comment as if she were in another place. “You seem to have recovered, darling.” Lifting her lashes, Serena saw that Catherine was now sitting up next to Rayne, one of her long white fingers trailing up his splendid erection. Smearing a bead of pearly liquid from the crest, looking disheveled and voluptuous and infinitely naughty, Catherine stuck her finger in her mouth and smiled as she licked it. He was very aroused, it was true, his engorged penis upright against his stomach as he lounged back on the pillows. He resembled some sort of foreign prince, handsome, worldly, and abundantly male. When Catherine reached out again, Serena felt a flicker of something that could only be jealousy pierce her satiated state. Her husband’s former lover murmured, “I haven’t wanted one of these,” her fingers began a slow descent against his distended flesh, “in a while. Shall I use my mouth?” Serena lifted up on to her elbows. “No.” Rayne’s eyebrows shot up, but his grin was boyish as he glanced over at her. He said in an amused tone, “I don’t think Serena is as willing to share me with you as I am willing to share her.” “Maybe she wants to service your--formidable cock, darling.” Catherine, naked unabashedly carnal, theatrically licked her lips, like a feline finishing a bowl of milk. “Which would be fine, since I savor her particular charms anyway and I love watching.” Service …how? Staring at the huge size of it, she swallowed, not quite certain what to do next. The world of their infinite experience dwarfed hers to the extent that she felt more than a little intimidated. “Like this,” Catherine suggested, scooting around and urging her to her hands and knees, her hands warm on her hips as she positioned herself behind her. She whispered in her ear, “Take it in your mouth and let it slide down your throat.” Obediently, Serena leaned forward and tentatively let her lips close around the surging size of his erection. He groaned. 49

THE ARRANGEMENT And she felt a small rush of triumph, the hard organ in her mouth tasting salty and foreign. She slid down as far as she could without gagging and felt the tip at the back her throat. “Oh, Jesus,” Rayne said in a hoarse whisper. Withdrawing, she did it again, rewarded when he flexed involuntarily, the enormous cock she tasted surging against her lips. He lay back on the pillows, the tendons in his arms visible, his eyes closed. Dark lashes stark against the slash of his cheekbones; he breathed quickly, his broad chest lifting with each sharp intake. Knowing how much he liked having his sex in her mouth, she began to let it move in and out, her supplicant pose with Catherine at her back also arousing her—like she was a harem girl, given no choice but to submit to her master. And when she felt the first caress against her backside begin, she shivered. Catherine stroked her from behind, sliding that practiced touch downward, her fingers finding soft, pliant flesh, parting her throbbing female opening, slipping inside. Every time she moved her mouth down Rayne’s erection, she found that Catherine pushed into her with her fingers, feeling the soft weight of the other woman’s breasts against her back, the dual penetration pure bliss. Stifling a telling moan, she continued the motion until she was panting around his shaft, her own rising excitement visible in the way he watched her with a narrowed gaze. “Stop.” The order barely registered, but suddenly his penis was no longer her mouth, Catherine’s probing fingers slipping from her vagina. “Ride me now,” he said hoarsely, his hands grabbing at her waist, lifting her. “Spread your legs.” Serena did so shamelessly, and he lowered her with masterful ease onto his rigid staff, her burning flesh opening to the inexorable pleasure of his entrance, stretching her wide until he touched her womb. Aware but uncaring that Catherine avidly watched, she responded to his hands as he lifted her and let her sink back down the rigid flesh inside her body, a low gasp of pleasure escaping her lips. Looking into her husband’s starkly handsome face, she could feel the sway of her breasts as he drove into her burning passage time and again, his thrusts more forceful, her own need escalating until she felt almost frantic. When she felt her inner muscles ripple in tremors of scalding release, she collapsed forward onto his chest, his low groan and the spurt of hot liquid deep inside her trembling body signaling his climax. 50

Emma Wildes Still impaled, sprawled across Rayne’s hard body, she heard Catherine laugh behind her, a low breathless chuckle. “I am so very glad,” the countess said, “I decided to drop by.”

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THE ARRANGEMENT

Chapter Six

It was snowing outside, unusual for this time of year, small drifts of white fluff that swirled through the air and tinted the rooftops a pure virginal white. Frowning at the paper in his hand, Rayne absently reminded himself to put another log on the fire as soon as he finished tallying the long rows of numbers. “May I come in?” The perfunctory rap was just that—a mere gesture, for Catherine breezed in anyway before he could speak, tiny bits of white shaking from her hooded cloak as she shoved it back from face. He hadn’t seen her in two weeks, not since she’d crept into the house and shared in that rather unique experience with him and Serena, and he sat back and simply grinned at her typically audacious entrance. “Good morning, Cat.” “I’m leaving,” she announced, one hand lifting in a theatrical gesture, her dark eyes sparkling. “I’m here to say good-bye.” “Town?” he ventured, knowing the Countess Van Herold’s mercurial spirit. “The country,” she informed him, still clad in a long sable cloak, pacing across his study with the ease of the familiar. “To Italy for a year or two, I’ve decided. I need something …new, something different.” Turning, she shot him a teasing glance. “I’m rather half in love with your young wife; you know that, don’t you, darling?” Catherine and love didn’t quite fit together. He watched her restless movements and merely commented, “You’re infatuated, at a guess, though I thought you satisfied that particular craving the other night.” “I’m not sure…” her smile was pure devilment, both charming and wicked, “however, I am sure you aren’t willing to share her, and, as she’s going to be unavailable—” “And also is carrying my child,” he told her mildly. Her eyes widened slightly. “Is she? That was quick.” 52

Emma Wildes “I’m not surprised,” he murmured, recalling how often he’d made love to his wife those first weeks, often two or three times a day. “You must be very happy to have control of your shipping business so close on the horizon.” “I am happy,” he said firmly, “period. The company be damned at this point, I just hope she doesn’t have to empty the contents of her stomach every morning the whole confinement.” “Poor child.” “Yes,” he agreed, recalling diving for the basin just that morning, avoiding disaster in the nick of time. Catherine laughed, her brows arching. “You should see your face, Rayne, such typical male pride in your expression, as if being able impregnate a female is such an accomplishment.” “Can you?” he asked dryly. “No.” Catherine laughed out loud. “I must admit you bested me there. Anyway, I couldn’t leave without a farewell. Here, darling, a quick kiss, just one.” Coming swiftly around his desk she bent and touched her mouth to his briefly, looking into his eyes. One gloved hand stroked his cheek. “Have you told her you love her yet?” It was pure cowardice, but he hadn’t. “No,” he admitted. “Do it. In case you haven’t noticed, I know women and they need to hear such things, especially when they’re breeding.” No one less maternal, Cat gave a brief shudder at that notion, stroked his cheek once again, and headed for the doorway. She paused there and threw a mischievous glance over her shoulder. “Kiss her for me, won’t you, darling? You know where I would do it…” And she was gone.

**** Her husband frowned, holding a piece of paper in his hand, more documents scattered over his desk, the fire smoldering in the hearth, obviously forgotten. For a long second, Serena stood there and watched him, taking in the splendid width of his shoulders, the way his dark brows knitted together as he studied whatever it was he held, the lean line of jaw and mouth. As if sensing her there, he glanced up, a smile replacing his somber expression. “How are you feeling?” he asked sympathetically. 53

THE ARRANGEMENT “Like I want to see you throw up, just a time or two, for fun,” she said with false sweetness. The truth was, once the sick feeling passed each day, she had quite a hearty appetite and felt perfectly normal. “I’ll pass, if you don’t mind.” “You did this to me, you should suffer a little.” “We did it together, if I recall, and I suffer by feeling helpless and ineffectual when you are sick, nothing any man wants to acknowledge. By the way, you just missed Catherine,” Rayne informed her, “by a half hour or so. She’s leaving the country and bids farewell.” “Oh.” His past with the countess no longer made her uncomfortable. The night they had shared together proved that Rayne desired her, not his lovely former lover. “Where’s she going?” “Italy. Heaven help the innocent young virgins there. Come here,” his voice dropped a little, “I want to hold you.” Serena laughed, moving toward her husband, willingly settling on his lap, liking the way his arms came around her. His mouth was warm and firm as he kissed her with great care. She felt something she had never felt in her life. She felt cherished and valued. “I love you,” she whispered against his mouth, drawing on her courage, wanting to say the words long before now but never feeling certain of the right time. He lifted his head and smiled at her, heart-stoppingly handsome and seductive. “What a coincidence, I was about to say the exact same thing.”

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Emma Wildes

About the Author

Emma Wildes loves the infinite variations of romance in all its forms. She believes that passion makes the world go around …and delights in being able to write about it. Come see her at www.emmawildes.com. If you also like traditional romance or mystery, please visit her at www.katherinesmith.net.

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