Awakened by a Lord: Victorian Nights Read online

  “I knew you had it in you,” he continued. “Oh yes, you may look timid, but I knew that deep inside you there is a fire burning bright and strong. Damn these letters, they can wait! For today I am all yours, my darling wife. Just let me know what it is you wish to do today and we shall do it. Anything your heart desires.”

  I could not fight off the pleased smile that rose then to my own lips, and I took a deep breath to compose myself once more, then said, “There were beautiful grounds at Sandwell Hall, but mostly I saw them from my window. For I was hardly ever allowed out of the house. Aunt Agnes feared me catching germs you see. But most of all, and maybe now I know why, she feared me coming into contact with any men. So, it was only once in a blue moon that I was allowed outside, and always on a Sunday when the gardener and his boy took the day off. So my wish for today is for you to show me around the beautiful grounds here at Hartford Hall, and tell me all about the history of this house which is, after all, my new home.”

  As we walked the beautiful grounds, the gentle morning sunshine warming my pale skin, James fulfilled my request, taking my arm as he led me around the beautiful gardens, telling me how his ancestors built the house, and about how his great grandmother, Lady Ottoline Hartford, had planted the beautiful flowerbeds that painted the gardens with a riot of colour, and how generations of Hartfords had kept these many plants and flowerbeds immaculate to this day in her memory.

  But, as we took some rest beneath the shade of a small apple orchard just to the West of the rose gardens, I felt something change and soften in his manner. It was as if he were really finally opened up to me, as he began to talk not just about his ancestors and the house this time, but about himself.

  “I know you must think me a strange and cold man at times, my dear Amelia,” he began, venturing a glance in my direction before turning his gaze back to the vast green lawns that spread out before us.

  And instead of saving his feelings, I instead found myself agreeing, rather confidently. “I must say that I did. For you seem to be cold with me one minute, then passionate the next. It has my head all in a whirl.”

  At this he smiled before continuing.

  “In that case, I must offer my apologies if I have confused you in any way. I have often been accused of being distant. I have never been comfortable in large crowds, you see, and I often yearn only for my own company – for peace and quiet most of all.”

  “I do understand that,” I replied, resting my hand gently upon his. “As you can imagine, I am rather used to peace and quiet myself.”

  “Furthermore, I cannot hide my emotions,” he said, turning once more to me, his dark eyes flashing. “I am not one for playing nice. I never have been. But I can promise that I shall never to lie to you, Amelia. You can always trust that when I choose to spend time with you it is because I sincerely desire your company, not out of some misplaced sense of obligation.”

  “But I don’t understand,” I replied, shaking my head. “You only married me out of a sense of duty, did you not?”

  “Aye, that is true,” he nodded. “I knew from my earliest days that our families had promised us to each other. And I knew, too, that I would always honour that promise. But I think you misunderstand what I mean about ‘duty’. Of course, I shall always honour my duties towards my family and towards Hartford Hall. But our private moments together? The intimate moments of tenderness that we have shared? Well, those have nothing whatsoever to do with duty ...”

  And at this he leant forward, taking my head in his hands as he planted a soft and tender kiss upon my lips.

  Our morning together in the gardens had been everything I could have hoped for. I felt I understood James so much better now, and since our talk I had resolved to allow him as much space and privacy as he seemed to need in order to be happy, safe in the knowledge that he really did feel something for me after all – in fact, perhaps just as strongly as the feelings I was developing for him.

  So that afternoon, I left him to his correspondence in the library while I returned to my boudoir to spend the hours reading. And it was with a new excitement and understanding that I greeted him in the large dining room that evening.

  “I trust you had a productive afternoon?” I asked, and this time I did not feel like a silly schoolgirl parroting phrases from a textbook, but rather a woman who was finally beginning to know and understand her husband ...

  The following afternoon, I was reclining with a book in my chambers when Emily arrived to announce that I had a visitor. And not just any visitor either; in fact, I was rather surprised and taken aback when she told me that it was in fact Lady Violet who had called in to see me so unexpectedly.

  “Shall I prepare the drawing room for afternoon tea, madam?” Emily asked.

  “Very good,” I began, then quickly changed my mind. “No, in actual fact, Emily, I think we shall take out tea out on the lawn, for it is a rather bright and lovely day for this time in March, is it not?”

  “Very good, madam,” Emily nodded, backing out of the room, leaving me once more with my thoughts.

  Why on Earth was Lady Violet calling in to see me like this, I wondered.

  After looking myself over in the floor-length mirror and adjusting my hair to make sure it looked at its absolute fullest, I took a final deep breath then headed down the stairs to receive her.

  I was glad that the weather was just as bright and sunny as I’d hoped it might be, and as we took our tea on the lawn, I felt doubly happy to be out in the fresh air – for I felt as if I had still so much of the outdoors to catch up on, after my many years of indoor confinement back at Sandwell. But I could only enjoy myself so much in the company of Lady Violet who, I reminded myself, had given me the most narrowed and venomous looks the last time I had set eyes upon her at the ball.

  But today she seemed in much better spirits, smiling and chattering away happily about the ball – asking whether I had enjoyed myself, and seemingly making no intimations that she thought me anything other than a dear friend and confidante.

  In fact, it seemed as if she wanted nothing more than a pleasant chat to while away an hour or so, and I wondered perhaps if she were rather lonely without a husband of her own, and perhaps that were the real reason of her unexpected visit. Lady Violet seemed sweet and gentle, and truly friendly that morning. She was clearly trying to make amends for any unpleasantness at her ball. And I realised it would be churlish of me not to forgive any petty jealousies, for Violet was obviously willing to forgive my social naivety.

  I was learning that friendship was not always a simple path, but just like my marriage to James, something that involved compromise and even work on occasion.

  And just as I was thinking this, she put down her teacup, looked all about her as if to check if we were alone on the lawn, and then leant in close to me and whispered, “My darling Amelia, I must confess that I did not just come here for casual gossip.”

  “Oh no?” I asked, I too matching her solemn quiet tone.

  “No,” she replied. “I came here about James.”

  At the mention of his name, I felt a pang of worry, as if a dagger had been driven deep into my heart, and I swallowed back my worries, feigning cool composure and nodding to signal that she should continue.

  “I saw the way he looked at you at that ball,” she whispered, “and Amelia, my darling, I fear that his desires are becoming darker. I know you will want to be loyal to your husband, but even so you must believe me when I say that I too know his wicked desires, and ... well, I fear that he means to hurt you.”

  At this, she put her hand to her head and closed her eyes rather dramatically before continuing.

  “It is not something that I wish to remember,” she explained, “in fact I have tried to push it altogether from my poor mind in the intervening years since our own courtship. But when James’s passion for me became too much, I saw him change from the good and quiet man who you married into an altogether darker creature, driven solely by his own desires, and
wholly unable to control himself. I may have managed to escape his urges, dear and gentle Amelia, but I fear that an innocent such as you will not be quite so fortunate.”

  I nodded, shocked into a deep silence now. But even so, I did not believe what she was saying.

  No, I told myself. Surely Lady Violet was just jealous, that was all. James could not be the wicked and violent beast she had described, could he?

  But even so, I found that her words had sent a cold chill right through me at the thought of James becoming devilish and even threatening my life.

  “Oh, and did you see Lady Constance’s gown?” Lady Violet said so loudly and happily then, her manner suddenly changing completely from that of private confidante to carefree friend in but a half-second; almost as if our talk a moment ago had never even taken place. “Such a beautiful fabric, didn’t you think? I heard she’d had it shipped in from Italy. Why it must have cost her an arm and a leg ...”

  “Oh James, I feel as if the wine has gone straight to my head!” I exclaimed that evening over dinner.

  Perhaps I had taken one more glass than was usual of the delicious (not to mention dreadfully expensive) French red wine that had accompanied our meal, or perhaps I was simply more affected that evening by the heady drink, but either way, I found myself behaving rather amorously, my thoughts becoming clouded by the possibilities of our lovemaking that night.

  And the more I thought about this, the more impatient I seemed to become. Eventually, before the desert course had even arrived, I found myself leaning across the table to him and saying in a low and suggestive tone:

  “I know the night is young, but I would like dearly for us to be alone together.”

  “But we are, my darling,” he replied with a confused smile, indicating the large empty room in which we dined.

  “No, James,” I said in a sultry whisper, feeling my breast flush from my brazenness. “You misunderstand me. I would like us to be really alone. Please, take me to bed, James. Take me to bed right this instant ...”

  He smiled and nodded, finishing his own glass of wine then pushing himself up from his seat and offering me his hand.

  And I had to surpress a giggle as we both raced from the dining hall towards the grand central staircase – for I was imagining the confusion on poor Cooper’s face when he arrived with our deserts to find two empty seats awaiting him!

  “Oh James,” I murmured, my voice trembling as we climbed the stairs, “I feel as if I have been longing for you since the very moment I awoke this morning. It is as if my body has been calling out to you, crying for your touch ...”

  And as he began to lead me towards my own chamber, I stopped him and shook my head confidently.

  “No,” I explained, “I want to be in your room tonight.”

  “Very well,” he replied with a playful smile. “And do you have anything in mind for this evening’s entertainments?”

  At this, I felt my body flush with excitement and I shrugged my shoulders, as if to say that whatever he decided to do to me that eve, I would surely enjoy as much as he ...

  Barely the instant that we were alone in James’s chamber, the door slamming behind us, he had begun disrobing and commanded me to do the same.

  “I want you naked this instant, Amelia,” he said, his voice stern and full.

  And I shivered as I uncovered myself to him, my hard and puckered nipples betraying the fact that I was already more than ready for whatever ‘punishment’ he decided to dish up.

  “Give those to me,” he said as I stepped out of my pretty silk bloomers, and by now I knew exactly what he planned to do with them.

  Sure enough, the very moment I’d handed them to him, he’d torn them into long strips, just as he had that other night, and as if I could read his mind, I offered my wrists to him, pressed together, ready to be bound so tightly.

  But to this suggestion, he shook his head.

  “No, Amelia,” he explained. “Tonight I shan’t be binding your wrists together, but instead to the posts of my bed.”

  I looked over at the imposing four-poster bedframe that stood in the centre of his chamber, imagining myself bound tightly to it.

  “Oh yes, James,” I whispered in excitement. “Yes.”

  And before he could even command me, I’d hurried over to the bed and thrown myself onto its plush deep red sheets, spreading my arms and legs wide, offering my trembling body up to him – to my stern and handsome husband and master.

  Sure enough, he began roughly and tightly binding my wrists to the posts of his bed, so that my arms were stretched wide apart. And as he worked, I admired his naked form – the glow of his skin, and the taught musculature of his body, and of course that thick purple rod that jutted from the centre of him, which brushed tantalisingly against my left breast as he bound my wrist so tightly, the slick pink head dancing against my hard left nipple. And my tried to move my head towards it, to plant a kiss upon it (or perhaps even take it between my lips), but I was utterly unable, for by now both my wrists were wrapped ever so tightly to the bedposts, holding me firmly in place.

  Next he began binding my ankles, too, so that I was held tight and firm – with all four of my limbs stretched out taught in a star shape. But still there remained one final long glossy strip of pink silk in his grip, and I was about to ask what it was for when he climbed over me, so that his knees were either side of my hips, and I thought that he must want to cover my eyes again – as we had done that previous night.

  But instead, this time, he moved the strip of cloth to my mouth, tying it so roughly at the nape of my neck that it actually parted my lips, and it was all I could do but let out a rather muffled moan, now that I was no longer able to speak ...

  Thoroughly bound and silenced, all I could do now was watch him from my position on the bed as he stepped down from the bed, his eyes travelling hungrily over my body while he stroked his thick shaft with his own fist, sliding his fingers slowly up and down its shiny pink length, wielding it in his hand as if it were some kind of weapon as fully circled the bed.

  He stopped at the very foot of the bed, his eyes moving between my legs, and then he began to approach, climbing up on to the sheets on his hands and knees, so that his head was positioned right there between my legs. I moaned a little, just from the feel of his hot breath dancing against my exposed womanhood, which was throbbing and aching for him. And then I let out as much of a stifled gasp as I was able, as I felt his tongue touch right against that most tender and secret part of me – actually kissing me there, just as I had kissed him, the last time he’d bound me.

  Oh, sensation of his mouth, there between my legs, felt utterly different from either the touch of his fingers or from the animal heat of his sex. No, this was altogether new, though no less lovely and delicious. It was as if the motions of his tongue and lips were designed to tease me to the very edge of pleasure, but then deny me its fullness, and I began to suspect that James was rather an expert at this particular form of ‘punishment’, for he seemed to know exactly which parts of me to tease, directing his tongue first in slow circles around that swollen nub at the very top of my sex, that seemed to contain the source and root of my pleasures, then a moment later, moving his tongue further downwards, even entering me with it, each fresh motion he made with his lips and tongue causing me to writhe and moan as much as I could in my bound and gagged state.

  And then, when it seemed as if I were right at the very edge of the precipice, he finally tipped me over it, by bringing his fingers to join his tongue, making love to me with his hand while he directed the ministrations of his tongue once more to the swollen and aching nubbin that seemed to exist solely to give me pleasure.

  With a long low moan, I shuddered beneath him, feeling my wrists and ankles pulling painfully against their bindings as my body shuddered and trembled, my mind flashing white and the pleasure spilling over inside me, causing me to lose control of myself completely for a few moments.

  But it seemed as if Jam
es had only just begun in the various ‘punishments’ he had planned for me that night, for I had hardly come back to my senses before he’d renewed his attentions upon my body, this time bringing his mouth to my breasts, taking first one then the other of my hard puckered buds between his lips. At first his kisses were tender, but soon they became rather rough, and I even squealed as he bit down upon my nipple, leaving it his wake a bright spot of blood.

  And this time – as the flashes of pain mixed in with those of pleasure – I found myself unable to fully enjoy the sensations, for all of a sudden I had Lady Violet’s words from earlier that day ringing loudly in my ears: I fear that he means to hurt you ...

  No, I told myself, pushing the wicked thought from my brain. She is just jealous; this is no different from our previous play together.

  But just then, I felt James’s hand move rather roughly between my legs, with none of his usual tenderness, working his fingers hard and fast inside me, at such a speed that I cried out despite myself.

  And when my pleading eyes sought his, I saw that – yes – there was a devilish glee glinting in them, almost as if it were the very act of causing me pain itself that he enjoyed the most now.

  I tried to call out to him to stop, to be a little more gentle with me, but of course he could not hear a word I said as my mouth was truly stifled, the only noise escaping the sodden pink silk that ran between my teeth a pitiful little cry, which could easily have been mistaken for one of pleasure.

  Next he moved his face back between my thighs, nuzzling me like an animal, and at this I relaxed again, as I was sure that he was to simply plant more kisses upon my womanhood – the very source of my pleasure.

  But instead I felt his fingers, and then even his tongue begin to explore that part of me a little further downwards –

  in other words, my very rump itself, a secret and utterly forbidden part of me that in my mind held no place in the bedroom.