Sans Regret Read online

  The world dissolved into a haze of lust so deep, he almost didn’t notice when she moved, easing the pressure against his rod. Before he could protest, her hand moved to the front of his pants, her palm hard against his engorged flesh.

  A shock raced through him so hard his knees almost buckled. He gasped and pressed his fists into the boards behind her, leaning into the wall for support.

  “What a fine fellow this is,” she whispered. “So hard and thick.”

  “Damn it, woman, you’ll unman me.”

  “A famous swordsman like you, spending in your pants like a schoolboy? I hardly think so.”

  All he could manage was a growl as she continued stroking him from the tip of his cock to the sac below. Even through his clothing, he could make out the pressure of each finger that tormented him. Another moment of this, he really would have to frig her right here and hope for the best. Or else he would come in his pants.

  Just before he reached the tipping point, the pressure against his cock ceased. He leaned into the wall and took great, heaving breaths. Damn, but this woman could make him respond as no other had. Heat raged through his blood like a drug. Only through intense concentration did he manage to pull himself back from the brink of insanity.

  When he opened his eyes, she’d disappeared. He looked around frantically. Except for Blakely’s furniture, the room stood empty.

  “Bloody hell.”

  He hadn’t heard the door open or close and yet closed it was. Had she gone out that way? Or…

  The window. He hadn’t even noticed it was open before. Would she have jumped a full story down?

  He ran to it, pushed aside the curtains and gazed outside. There she was at some distance, her gown billowing out behind her as she ran across the lawn.

  * * * * *

  Caroline stood in the gazebo and waited for Wortham to catch up with her. She’d never planned to jump out of a second floor window but she’d landed on soft grass and escaped injury. Her unladylike childhood spent in climbing up things and jumping off any number of them had held her in good stead. She’d never imagined that she’d need that skill at the advanced age of one and thirty.

  She took slow, even breaths. The sprint across the lawn had winded her, of course. Then too, it had been months since she’d had to endure a man’s hands on her. Wortham was more skilled than the men her husband had allowed to paw her but anything that involved her mouth repulsed her. She’d only had to take Oakhurst’s puny sex inside her, as he’d wanted to assure that his heir was truly his own. If she’d ever conceived a child and given him a son, he would have made her engage in that act with strangers too. Since he’d never made her pregnant, she’d been spared that but she’d done everything else with his friends or suffered the punishment for disobedience.

  Wortham hadn’t shoved his tongue down her throat, thank God, and he hadn’t mashed her lips with his teeth. Other women might have enjoyed the kiss. Or said they’d enjoyed it. She’d happily switched to massaging his cock through his pants to get his mouth off hers. That distraction had allowed her to escape him entirely.

  She’d only escaped him for a few moments, though. Her stomach lurched at the thought of what lay ahead. For her plan to work, she’d have to endure his caresses and even pretend to enjoy them. She’d learned how to do that well enough during her marriage. A little bit longer and she’d be free of all that humiliation forever. A few days or weeks of dealing with Wortham and that monster in his pants—as long as it took to make him her sexual slave—and she’d deal him a crushing rejection and disappear.

  How sweet that would be. She’d endure whatever it took to see the look on his face when she told him how much she despised him and how she’d used him. Still the thought of what she’d have to do made her shudder. She wrapped her arms around her ribs and held on. She would do this. Wortham had ruined her sister’s reputation and through Cecily he’d ruined Caroline’s life. He had to pay. How ironic that Oakhurst and his appetites had suggested a method to use against another of his own sex.

  A shadow moved behind one of the beams supporting the gazebo roof. Her brother, the only man she’d ever trusted. She’d had to argue with Robert for hours to convince him of her plan but in the end, he’d seen this was the only way to dispense justice to the man who’d ruined their sister.

  “Is he ever coming?” Robert whispered.

  “He’ll be here. See that you stay out of sight.”

  “How can you be so sure of yourself?”

  “Trust me.” After years with Oakhurst, she knew what lengths a man would go to for fulfillment once aroused. A hedonist like Wortham wouldn’t give up before he’d had his way.

  Sure enough, she spotted him walking briskly across the lawn toward her. Perhaps his erection had subsided. No matter. She no longer needed him aroused. She only needed him here.

  He reached the gazebo and climbed the stairs. His form blocked out all the light from the house in the distance. Her breath caught. He was so infernally big.

  “Can you fly as well as seduce?” he asked.

  “I’m sure I’ve done neither, my lord.”

  “I’ll admit I didn’t see you fly. But you have seduced me. Now I’m going to show you how thoroughly.”

  He advanced toward her and she held her breath. She dared not look past him to Robert for fear of giving her brother away. Instead she leaned against the banister for support and concentrated on a spot in the center of Wortham’s chest. He would not touch her this time. Robert would stop him. He’d promised.

  After Wortham had advanced a few footsteps, Robert’s arm went around Wortham’s shoulder and his hand pressed a cloth over the man’s nose and mouth. The two of them struggled for a moment. When it appeared Robert might not prevail, Caroline jumped in to grab Wortham’s arm and hold it.

  He stared at her, his eyes wide in panic above the cloth. So he was afraid. Good. After a bit, the ether took effect and her enemy fell into a heap at her feet. The first stage of her plan had worked perfectly.

  Chapter Two

  The carriage rumbled through the countryside. Still safely unconscious, Wortham took up one seat, with Caroline and Robert sharing the other.

  “If you wanted to drug and abduct a peer of the realm, I don’t see why you couldn’t choose someone smaller,” Robert said.

  “I didn’t choose him. Cecily did.”

  Robert crossed his arms over his chest and looked at their captive. “Well then, I wish she had chosen someone less of a great oaf.”

  “Stop complaining,” she said. “I helped you, didn’t I?”

  “We’d never gotten him in this carriage if you hadn’t. Even with the driver’s help.”

  “How long do you think he’ll be out?”

  Robert shrugged. “I’m not a doctor.”

  “If he comes around we’ll give him more.”

  Robert looked up at her. “Is that safe?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I thought you wanted him alive. If not we could have hired someone to kill him and have done with it.”

  “I don’t want anyone killed.”

  Robert huffed. “Frankly I’m not sure you know what you do want.”

  “I want revenge,” she said.

  “So you keep saying.” He pointed at Wortham. “Is this the best way to go about it?”

  “Absolutely.” If only she could feel so sure. Humiliating Wortham made the most sense. Becoming an obsession for him until he’d surrender to her completely and then rejecting him would make him suffer the shame Cecily had felt when he’d seduced her. How many hearts had this man broken?

  The single question remaining was if Caroline could accomplish the task. She’d never thought of herself as a seductress. Cecily got all the family beauty and flirtatious ways. Caroline had something more than beauty though. The whores Oakhurst had hired to entertain at Sans Regret had taught her all their tricks and she’d learned them well. Things no decent woman knew but very effective if one wished to red
uce a man to begging. She knew how to draw out a man’s pleasure and how to make him climax on cue. She’d managed her revulsion before and she could do it again.

  Besides if Wortham hadn’t found her appealing, he wouldn’t have chased her all over Blakely’s house. If he’d lost interest, she would have gone home and hatched some other plot against him or given up entirely.

  But he had chased her and she’d driven him to distraction with that kiss. Her body held power over his, and she’d use that power. She wouldn’t fail.

  “How long will it take to get to Oakhurst’s hidden den of iniquity?” Robert asked.

  “Not long. This is his fastest coach and four.”

  “Who would have thought the old man would turn out to be such a randy bastard?”

  “Who indeed?” Caroline said.

  Robert reached over and squeezed her hand. “Did he hurt you horribly?”

  “There’s no point talking about it.” She didn’t even like to think about it and wouldn’t if it weren’t for her dreams. That part of her life was almost over. She’d take her revenge on the man who’d caused her misery and make a new life for herself.

  “I wish I’d known,” Robert said. “I’d have killed the old man myself.”

  “Never mind Oakhurst now. We have Wortham to deal with.”

  The coach lurched and the man’s body flopped over, nearly falling from the seat. His arm extended over his body and hung into the space between the seats. His long fingers almost reached her knee and his signet ring caught the light of the lantern outside the coach. Every part of him impressed, from his near-black mane of hair to his strong jawline and broad shoulders.

  His beauty meant nothing to her, so she leaned over and pushed his arm back to his side.

  “Wortham’s a decided rake,” Robert said. “But you can’t hold him responsible for what Oakhurst did to you.”

  “If it weren’t for Wortham, I’d never have married that lecher.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “Mama and Papa had a suitable, rich husband arranged for Cecily. Once she’d allowed this man to seduce her, that match became impossible.”

  “She seems happy enough now with Watson,” Robert said.

  “That’s not the point. With Cecily off the market, our parents had to marry me to a title if they were to advance in society.”

  “So they chose Oakhurst.”

  “I never had Cecily’s beauty or wit but Oakhurst didn’t care as long as I was young and innocent.”

  “You were a prize for any man,” Robert said. “You still are.”

  “I have no time for a man. When I’m done with this, I’ll head abroad to do what I always wanted to do, study nature.”

  “Come home, Caroline.”

  She stared out the window of the carriage, although in the darkness she could see nothing besides the blur of trees as they raced by. Home. How easily Robert said it. Of course he retained his innate goodness, never having been touched by the taint of perversion. He couldn’t understand how dirty she’d become. If he did, he’d never want to share a roof with her.

  “Tell Mama and Papa what happened to you,” he said.

  “No, never.” She nearly shouted it and Wortham seemed to respond, shifting slightly. “They caused this.”

  “They can make amends,” Robert said. “We all love you.”

  “No one can make amends and no one will ever love me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “I’ll never go home and I’ll never tell a soul what happened at Sans Regret and if you so much as say a word about any of it, I’ll call you a liar.”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. We’ll do this your way.”

  The carriage turned off the road and began the long trip up the drive to where Sans Regret stood concealed behind several acres of woodland. Besides Oakhurst and his guests, the only people who knew of this place were the staff and people Oakhurst hired to participate in his unnatural games. He’d paid them well for their silence during his lifetime and most of them feared he’d haunt them from his grave if they spoke out now.

  James Hardison, Marquis of Wortham was about to discover one of England’s best-kept secrets.

  * * * * *

  Bloody hell. Wortham sat up and rubbed his hands over his face. His head felt stuffed with eiderdown. Where was he and how had he gotten here?

  The woman, of course. He’d followed the woman to the gazebo in Blakely’s garden and someone had accosted him from behind. He still didn’t know who she was and now she’d spirited him away and he didn’t know to where. Most especially, he didn’t know why. Mystery upon mystery upon mystery. Some mysteries were amusing. This one most decidedly wasn’t.

  He looked around and found himself in a finely appointed room. Early morning sunlight streamed through lace curtains to play on the rose-patterned wallpaper. A breeze lifted the material, filling the room with air too cool to be truly comfortable. He rose and walked to the window to lower the sash and discovered bars on the outside. Clearly the woman didn’t want him to leave. They’d see about that as soon as he could confront her. Her Majesty took a dim view of holding a peer against his will.

  He closed the window and surveyed the room for more exits. The furnishings were clearly feminine and expensive to the point of ostentation. The bed sported a canopy of handmade lace that fell all the way to the floor at the corners. A full-length mirror stood in one corner supported by a mahogany frame. A large wardrobe of the same wood occupied another corner and nearby was a dressing table flanked by more mirrors.

  The room had two doors. He walked to one and found a modern water closet, complete with the very latest style in tub and flush toilet. Buckingham Palace and the Queen hardly had anything better.

  After making good use of the toilet, he washed his hands and dried them on a fine linen towel. The window in this room had bars too. With the marble tiles and brass fixtures, this might be a prison but a very opulent one. The only odd feature was the spigot in the tub. Brass again, it was shaped in the form of an erect male member. He turned one of the handles and water spurted out of the head of the penis and splashed into the tub as if a large creature had erupted in orgasm. He turned it off again. Did this truly belong in a lady’s boudoir? But then, that woman was no lady.

  He went back into the bedroom and was just about to try the second door when it opened. The woman in question stood on the other side in what looked like a lovely and very female, sitting room. She wore respectable clothing instead of the revealing costume. No mask on her face this time but he still couldn’t tell who she was.

  She gasped when she saw him, clearly startled to find him so close to the door. So he pushed her aside, strode to the door on the other side of the sitting room and tried the knob. It didn’t budge.

  “You didn’t expect me to leave that open, did you?” she said from behind him.

  He turned around to glare at her. “Let me out.”

  “I went to too much trouble to bring you here,” she answered.

  “Why?”

  She gave him a sphinxlike smile. “You are James Hardison, the Seventh Marquis of Wortham, aren’t you?”

  “You know damn well I am.”

  “We have unfinished business.”

  “Rubbish. I never met you before last night.” He wouldn’t have forgotten a woman as tempting as this one. Or as infuriating. Although she did look familiar.

  “I wouldn’t feel so sure of that, my lord,” she said.

  He stared at her. He should have recognized her if they truly knew each other. He wouldn’t have forgotten curves like the ones she’d tantalized him with the night before. This was the same woman, even if those curves lay hidden behind layers of modest clothing. The husky voice was the same. It had the same effect on him now as when he’d imagined a dalliance with her. Despite the fact that she held him prisoner, the thought of her voice begging for release still raced through his blood to his groin.

  The woman had
to be a witch if she could excite him under these circumstances.

  He walked to the window and found more bars. “A cage eh?”

  “You have no idea how well that description fits,” she said.

  “What do you want from me?”

  She smiled again, this time like a cat that had cornered its prey. “I want a great deal. You’ll find out more as the days pass.”

  “Days? How long do you intend to keep me here?”

  She bit her lip, tiny white teeth emphasizing the lushness of her mouth. “Until you’ve earned my forgiveness.”

  “What in hell for?” he shouted. “I’ve done nothing to you. I don’t even know you.”

  “You can’t be so callous to have forgotten.”

  “Damn you woman. I demand you tell me who you are and why I’m here.”

  “And if I don’t?” she asked.

  He walked toward her and raised his hands as if to throttle her. He’d never in his life touched a woman in anger but she couldn’t know that. She was tall for a woman but he still stood much taller. She’d have to find him threatening.

  She backed up but no more than a step and lifted her chin in defiance. “Lay hands on me and I’ll see that you’re kept in here without food and water until you regret what you’ve done.”

  Would she do that? Could she? The windows provided no opportunity for escape. Only the door out of the sitting room did. If he tried to break that down, he’d set up such a racket that anyone would hear him. If she had a staff—and she mostly likely did—they could stop him before he got more than a few feet down the hallway. They might even use whatever she’d drugged him with the night before. Damn.

  He dropped his hands to his side.

  “That’s better,” she said.

  “What is it you want me to do?”

  “Rest here today. Amuse yourself. There’s a collection of books you might like.” She gestured to a bookshelf that looked adequately stocked. “We’ll have some entertainment over dinner.”