Sans Regret Read online

  Wortham himself had tried to get onto the invitation list at Sans Regret. He’d been in the process of soliciting advice from people most likely to know the Earl’s secret. Such things had to be done delicately. Rumor had it even the Prince of Wales had tried unsuccessfully to discover the place. No one would admit to the prince they knew about Sans Regret, lest word of their knowledge get back to his mother, the Queen.

  Wortham had hardly gotten past the first tentative inquiries when the untidiness with Howarth had happened and he’d had to leave for India. When he’d returned, he’d learned of Oakhurst’s death and assumed the parties at Sans Regret had ended. Had his widow continued them on her own?

  He would have come voluntarily so why did she feel the need to kidnap him? And why him? She couldn’t want for guests without him. Had she seen him or heard of him and decided she wanted him?

  They’d met once. Could she have harbored some secret lust for him for years? He rolled onto his side, fluffed the pillow and sighed.

  So now he knew who and where but that didn’t tell him why. What was more, he had no clue what she had planned for him. Sex, certainly, but in what form? Would they play more games? An orgy perhaps? Would she do for him what her double had done for his? Would she invite him to part her thighs and feast on her until she spent? Would they join together and climax in each other’s arms?

  She’d brought him here against his will and as much as that angered him, it also intrigued him. He’d tried to find this place on his own and she’d transported him to it. Now that he’d seen his hostess, did he even want to escape?

  No matter what he decided, he’d need to keep his wits about him. Judging by her cleverness so far, she’d prove an able adversary in whatever game she’d planned. He’d need to be alert and rested and he could only manage that if he got some sleep. The current state of his cock made that unlikely unless he could give himself some relief.

  He hadn’t done that sort of thing for a very long time but if he was about to embark on a sexual adventure, he might end up engaging in lots of things he didn’t normally do. So he closed his eyes and imagined her closing her lips around his rod while he reached down to stroke himself.

  Ah yes. He should have done this in any case. The performance she’d commissioned for him over dinner had driven him close to the edge of reason. He’d managed to hold himself back then but had no need to now. Far less satisfying than taking Lady Oakhurst herself, self-stimulation could nevertheless take the edge off his hunger.

  Now he let his imagination drift back to the first night they’d met. She had to have measured the size of his cock when she had pressed her hand against his pants. What if she’d offered to use her mouth to bring him to climax? What if she’d allowed him to strip her out of the dress that covered everything and hid nothing? He could have sat in the wingback chair and let her unbutton his pants, slip her hand inside and take his throbbing cock in her hand.

  Damn him if he couldn’t feel her doing that right now. He moved his fingers faster, gripping his shaft and stroking all the way from the sensitive head to his sac beneath. Perhaps she would have offered to press her breasts around his shaft and used them to enclose his rigid flesh in the cleft between. Still, she could have licked the tip of him on each down stroke. Her thick curls might have obscured his view and he could have pushed the silken strands aside to watch his cock turn crimson in preparation for orgasm.

  And then her mouth could truly take him. Deep inside the heated moisture while she sucked on him. Yes, he would have sprayed copious amounts of come, as he would any moment now.

  A droplet of moisture appeared at the tip of him and he rubbed that into his skin. Lubricant while he worked his erection furiously. Now. Oh God now.

  His hips jerked as the climax took him. Semen shot out of him and onto the sheets. When it finished, he groaned and lay back. If she could do that to him in his imagination, what could she do in the flesh?

  * * * * *

  The next morning, Wortham awoke well rested. After washing and shaving, he put on a fresh suit of clothes from the seemingly bottomless wardrobe. Staring in the mirror over the dressing table, he fixed his cravat as best he could without the help of his valet. That done, he went to the sitting room to await whatever surprises Caroline, the Dowager Countess of Oakhurst had planned for him. Early sunlight poured onto the window seat and warmed his shoulders through the wool of his jacket. It would be a lovely day. Would he get to see any of it outside?

  After a bit the door opened. Instead of Lady Oakhurst, the two footmen stood on the other side. He rose and faced them.

  “My lady wishes you to join her for breakfast,” the taller of the two said.

  “I’m to be let out of this room?”

  “This way, my lord, if you please.”

  He followed the two servants into the hallway and along a corridor until they reached the landing. Walls of large blocks of gray stone and arches supporting the ceiling testified to the age of the abbey and its original purpose as a home for a religious order.

  The tapestries on the walls told a very different story, though. They depicted satyrs and nymphs engaged in sexual acts in groupings of two, three or more. One especially large and colorful weaving showed Leda being ravished by the swan, the bird in question sporting a very large and very human phallus. The furnishings for this hallway alone would cost a small fortune. Oakhurst must have been wildly wealthy to afford all this expense.

  “My lord?” The lead footman stood at the top of the staircase, gesturing down.

  Wortham stepped back from the tapestry—he must have been staring at it for some time—and descended to the floor below.

  Looking about for a possible escape revealed little in the way of opportunity. The windows stood high up on the massive walls and the arched door appeared made of very solid wood reinforced by metal bands. The monks had probably constructed their abbey to withstand the wars of an earlier era by keeping their enemies out. The walls would keep someone in as well as out.

  “The breakfast room is through here, sir.” The footman again. No doubt he served as guard as well as guide. Wortham turned and followed him down another corridor.

  He found himself in a cheerier room where a lavish buffet sat spread over the entire surface of a sideboard. Lady Oakhurst sat at the head of the table alone.

  He gestured to the buffet. “All this for the two of us?”

  “You’ll need to keep up your strength.”

  “What about your own? I’ve seen a bird survive on less.”

  She put down the piece of toast she’d been nibbling on. Besides that, there was nothing on her plate other than some strawberries. “I’m not very hungry.”

  He chuckled, more to annoy her than out of amusement and walked to the sideboard. After pouring himself a cup—coffee, rather than tea—he loaded his plate with eggs, ham, sausage and pastries.

  He took the whole lot to the table, sat down and ate with relish. “Very tasty,” he declared after a few mouthfuls. “My compliments to your cook.”

  She blanched and immediately smiled to cover up her unease. He would have missed the flicker of discomfort if he hadn’t observed her closely. Something clearly lay below her bravado. She felt vulnerable, at risk. Afraid of her own prisoner. Interesting.

  He cut off a large piece of sausage and shoved it into his mouth. Dreadful table manners but it got another reaction from her.

  “Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Of course not.”

  “Then why aren’t you eating?”

  “My stomach’s a bit uncertain this morning. I’m sure it’ll pass.”

  He smiled back at her. “A shame to miss such wonderful food.”

  “I thought I’d show you Sans Regret this morning. You must be curious about it.”

  “The Earl of Oakhurst’s secret den of sin, the gateway to depravity,” he said. “Half of London is curious about it and the other half would be if they knew about it.”r />
  “He liked to think of it as a safe place to explore human nature, free from social judgments.”

  “What’s your opinion of it?”

  She thought for a moment. “It is what it is.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “It’s mine.”

  That answer obviously begged the question of how she planned to use Sans Regret now and what part he played in her plans. Asking would probably only get him another cryptic answer, so he ate his breakfast in silence.

  After a few moments, she rose. “If you’ve had enough, I’ll start the tour.”

  He wiped his mouth with his napkin, placed it beside his plate and stood. She brushed past him, close enough that he detected the scent of her hair, and escorted him into the hallway.

  “Aren’t the footmen going to accompany us?” he asked. “What if I try to escape?”

  “You’d be stopped before you got far.”

  “Did you and Oakhurst keep many prisoners here?”

  She didn’t answer but picked up her pace. She led him into a large dining hall, quite lavish but otherwise not unusual. Even the paintings on the wall depicted hunting scenes and other innocent subjects.

  She watched him take it all in and raised an eyebrow. Her footsteps echoed around the room as she preceded him to a far wall and opened a door.

  An entirely different world awaited them on the other side. Ancient Rome. At least it looked like what little he knew of ancient Rome. Low couches of the sort wealthy Romans reclined on stood in a large circle around the center of the room. Statues of marble so white it might have been alabaster complemented the white, black and even pink marble of the floor and walls. All the statues were of young and beautiful people and all the males had prominent erections.

  “Interesting room,” he said.

  “Oakhurst’s guests especially enjoyed his pagan feasts.”

  “Did you enjoy them?”

  She looked around the room and shrugged. “The food was good.”

  Given how little breakfast she’d eaten, it seemed unlikely she had much of an appetite. She didn’t appear too casual about this room either, despite her shrug. Her eyes were a bit too wide, her jaw too tense. In fact she’d hardly seemed at ease since the party when they met and perhaps her mask had hidden her unease then.

  “What else happened in this room?” he asked.

  “Whatever the guests wanted.”

  “Dancing girls in Roman costume?”

  She glanced up at him. “Or naked.”

  “Flirtations?”

  “Always.”

  “Orgies?” he asked.

  She raised her hand to his chest, her palm directly over his heart, and smiled at him. “Spoken like a true voluptuary, my lord.”

  He took her hand in both of his and toyed with her fingers. “Did you join in?”

  She laughed, a deep throaty sound, all sign of discomfort gone. “Women have the same sexual urges as men.”

  “They so often deny it.”

  “I believe in total honesty.”

  That last was so implausible he almost laughed. She’d deceived him to bring him here and she’d dissembled in all their encounters since. Playing along offered such tempting possibilities though. Pretending to believe her lies was no more dishonest than her dishonesty.

  He bent toward her. “So if I wanted to kiss you, you’d want to kiss me back. Is that correct?”

  Her smile grew broader but no more credible. “Why not try kissing me and see?”

  As he lowered her head toward hers, she trembled so slightly he almost missed it. Then her eyes drifted closed and she sighed in apparent pleasure.

  He really ought to back off and attempt to understand the puzzle of her but with those lips so close to his own and so moist and lush, he surrendered. He took her mouth softly, with the restraint that usually brought a woman to him. She tasted of the strawberries she’d eaten at breakfast. Warm and sweet. Yielding.

  Within moments he’d lost himself in her caress and he tilted his head to kiss her more deeply. Every move he made, she countered as if she’d read his mind. Her breaths matched his. Her sighs answered his. They’d become one being, merged where their lips met. Heat spiraled around them and soon the world faded away, leaving just her mouth beneath his, her body against his. Driving him deeper and deeper into pure need.

  She’d done it again…claimed him with one caress. He’d kissed more women that he could remember but none of them enflamed him like this one. In this brief time she’d made him hard and throbbing. How could she hold such power over his body?

  Through sheer force of will, he straightened and pushed her away from him, shaking his head to clear it. This woman was potent and dangerous.

  “You don’t enjoy my kisses, my lord?” she asked.

  “If you have the same urges I do, you know the answer to that.”

  “Still I’d like to hear it.”

  “I want to toss you over one of those couches, lift your skirts and bury myself inside you.”

  She smiled again, as if she’d won a victory from him. “Why did you stop?”

  “What’s your game?”

  “Maybe I wanted to try London’s most notorious rake for myself to see if the stories are true.”

  “You could have done that at my townhouse.”

  “Maybe I wanted to have you on my territory.” Her smile grew wicked. “Under my control.”

  That cooled his lust finally. He’d never allowed a woman to control him. Quite the opposite. He always made sure his partners took pleasure in their coupling but he’d dictated the terms.

  “I don’t surrender to anyone,” he said.

  “You should try it. It can open up a whole new world of titillation.”

  “Is that all this is about? Titillation?”

  She laughed. “What else would it be about? Love?”

  “What’s wrong with love?”

  “It doesn’t exist.”

  “That’s a cynical attitude.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Have you ever loved someone, Lord Wortham?”

  What a preposterous question. Of course he had. Someone. “Didn’t you love your husband?”

  “Now you’re being silly,” she answered. “If you’d married, would it have been for love?”

  “Perhaps.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “If you’re not going to be honest, there’s no point to this conversation.”

  So now she’d dismissed him as a liar. The gall of the woman. He could show her love if he wanted. He could make her love him if he wanted. But who needed a female clinging to him, especially one as irritating as this one?

  “Very well,” she said finally. “Let me show you the cellar. You’ll find some interesting things down there and you can select the wine for dinner.”

  With that, she turned and strode off. He hesitated for a moment, staring around at the setting for Roman-style debauchery before heading off after her.

  * * * * *

  Caroline poured two glasses of sherry and held one out toward Robert.

  He looked at the drink but didn’t take it from her. “A little early to be drinking, isn’t it?”

  “It’s only one glass.” She lifted her glass to her lips, emptied it and drank the sherry in one swallow. She set the empty on the tray beside the decanter and took the other to the settee and sat down. “All right, two.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Everything is going as I planned.” And it was, at least on the surface.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Had the entire male gender chosen today to make her life difficult? First, Wortham with his kiss and now Robert with his questions. At least the sherry would get the taste of Wortham out of her mouth.

  Robert sat beside her and looked into her face. “Something’s shaken you.”

  “I had to kiss the man again.”

  “If you don’t like it, why do it?”

  “I can’t s
educe him without kissing him, can I?”

  He took her free hand in his. “Caroline, I don’t know what happened to you in this house.”

  “Count yourself lucky.”

  “But surely you have enough money and freedom to put it all behind you.”

  Dear, innocent Robert. Some things didn’t stay behind you. Some things got inside you and corrupted you and followed you everywhere.

  “You always spoke of Oakhurst’s hunting lodge in Scotland with affection,” Robert said. “Why don’t we go there?”

  “I’m not ready yet.”

  “We can roam the moors and you can tell me everything that happened and I can help you heal.”

  “It wouldn’t work.”

  “How do you know if we don’t try?” he asked. “Humor me, sprite.”

  She looked down at her glass. “You haven’t called me that since I was a little girl.”

  “You look like a little girl right now. You’re frightened. I can tell.”

  She sighed. Although two years her junior, Robert had acted as her protector ever since he had grown taller than she was. It would be so easy to creep into his arms and unburden herself in hope he could make the shame go away. Still how could she bear it if the only person she cared about grew to loathe her as she loathed herself? Better not to take the risk.

  The glass slipped from her hand and fell to the carpet, spilling the sherry. She wasn’t normally clumsy but she hadn’t been paying attention. Somehow her mind had stuck somewhere in the Roman banquet hall and she needed to bring it back to the present.

  Robert bent and picked up the glass. “I’m worried about you, sprite.”

  “I’m fine. Just pour me another sherry.”

  “Absolutely not. You’ve been as white as a sheet ever since you came into the room and I demand to know why.”

  “Don’t pour me another then. It isn’t important.” There wasn’t enough sherry in the world to erase the taste of Wortham from her brain, anyway.

  “What’s the point of taking revenge against the Marquis if it makes you so miserable?”

  “He has to suffer.”

  “To my mind, you’re suffering more than he.”

  She rose and paced across the room. “You haven’t seen him since you helped carry him in.”