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Carnal Knowledge Ch. 02

By: Qadira



It has been nearly two weeks since I have seen Father Matthew, and felt him inside me. I am longing for his sensual touch and knowing hands. Every night, as I pleasure myself, I think of him exploring my body and bringing me to God. My imagination goes wild as I ponder the possibilities that I would love to explore. He has been away on a retreat and I have been restricted to my fantasies. 

But, he returned to the school today. I am sitting in his classroom, in a desk near the back, waiting for the bell to ring. As I wait, I look around at the other girls. If only they knew what I have with Father Matthew. The thought of their shock at finding out makes my clit begin to throb. I imagine myself impaling myself on his cock, while the entire class watches on. Maybe one of the other girls would join in and...

My daydreams are interrupted by the bell and Father Matthew striding into the room. As he takes a seat at his desk I see him glance in my direction. There it is...the slight smile of a shared secret. My heart races and my clit pulsates.

Father Matthew clears his throat, and says, "We will be reviewing the French Revolution this afternoon. Please open your text books to page 495."

I am in agony the entire class. I sit with my leg crossed, squeezing my thighs together in hopes of relieving the longing between my legs. Again, my mind wanders and the fantasies begin. Father Matthew is thrusting his cock into me as I am splayed out across his desk. He is sucking my nipples as he pounds into me over and over. I have my fingers in his hair and am yelling out wildly.

Suddenly, I orgasm, just a small one, and my body shakes. I look up, my cheeks flushing. Quietly I turn in my chair and reach for my sweater in my bag. "Brrr..." I say to the girl sitting behind me. "It's cold in here." In reality I am feverish, but I slip the sweater on. I pray she didn't recognize my orgasm for what it was.

The lecture drags on. All I can wait for is the bell to ring so I can talk with Father Matthew. Finally, as the clock reaches two, the bell sounds and the girls around me are busy packing their things away. 

"Angela, will you please stay after class?" Father Matthew asks, speaking over the din of gossiping girls. "I need to speak with you about your last exam."

I nod slightly and slowly pack my books into my pack. The other girls are filing out of the room as I approach Father Matthew's desk. When the last girl leaves, he looks up at me and smiles softly. "I have missed you, Angela," he says. My heart skips a beat.

"Me too, Father."

Father Matthew glances at the door, making sure no one is listening to our conversation. "Shall I come to see you tonight?" he asks.

"I would like that very much, Father."

"Then I will see you after lights-out."

I smile softly and nod. Leaving the room, my heart is galloping. My desire is strong and I don't know if I can wait for tonight. But, I force myself to pass by the bathroom and not stop to pleasure myself. It will be all the more sweet tonight if I wait.

*****

I am brushing my long red hair in front of the mirror in my dorm room. It is nearly ten o'clock and I hear the five minute warning from Sister Anne. I finish the last stroke and carefully put my comb away. Looking in the mirror I can see my cheeks are flushed softly and my lips are red. My nightgown is long and white and nearly see-through. Already my nipples are hard with arousal.

I turn the light off in my room, then move the bed. I slip beneath the covers, awaiting the soft knock on the door. I hear Sister Anne call lights-out and I see the hall light glowing beneath my door dim. 

My heart is pounding in my ears. It's been nearly ten minutes.

And then I hear it. Three soft taps on the door. 

Father Matthew turns the knob and quietly pushes the door in. I watch his dark silhouette move toward me. "Good evening, Angela," he whispers.

"Hello, Father."

He sits on the edge of my bed and I sit up. I reach over and turn on the lamp at my bedside. Father doesn't have his collar and cassock on, only a soft white t-shirt and trousers. I can see his strong chest muscles flex as he reaches up toward my face. Softly, he brushes his fingers along my cheek and across my lips. I kiss them softly. His eyes are on mine intently as he leans forward to kiss me. His lips are strong and his tongue gently parts my lips and probes into my mouth. I meet his tongue with mine. As we kiss, I feel his hand on my breast, squeezing gently. I am leaning toward him, moving my hands across his chest and stomach. I reach under his shirt and begin to pull it off. We break our kiss as the shirt passes over his head and drops to the floor. He is tugging at my night gown and I giggle quietly. Kneeling up on the bed, I reach down and pull my nightgown up over my head. My breasts stand out, my nipples hard in the chilly air. Father Matthew reaches out and takes my breasts in his hands, kneading them as he leans in to kiss me again. 

I begin to undo his belt and pants. I reach beneath the waist band of his shorts and find his rigid cock. I begin to pump it slowly up and down. Father Matthew's hands are wandering now. They are moving down my stomach to my pubic hair, which he begins to stroke softly. I move my knees further apart on the bed, allowing him access to my clit. I am so wet and longing for him to touch me, to slip a finger inside me. He must feel my body's need and he begins to circle my clit with his finger, slowly at first, then more quickly. I am stroking his cock and my rhythm also increases. Then his finger is inside me, probing deeply. "Oh, yes," I whisper, my hips thrusting into his hand. 

I pull at the waist of his pants, trying to fully expose his cock. He slowly slips his finger out of my pussy and I whimper in protest. Smiling, he shifts his weight and pulls his trouser and shorts off. He kicks them away, sitting on the edge of the bed. His cock is standing proud and all I want is to feel it inside me. I move forward and straddle his lap. He holds his throbbing cock in his hand, guiding it to my opening. I lower myself onto his cock, tucking my feet around behind his back on the bed. He takes handfuls of my ass and pulls my hips into him, roughly pulling me into a kiss. I begin to rock my hips back and forth, grinding myself on his rigid cock. My clit is hitting the base of his penis and lower abdomen, and I am in heaven. He is slamming his hips forward in time to my rocking and I can feel his cock hitting me deep inside. He breaks the kiss as our pace quickens. I can see the sweat on his forehead and feel it on his back. He grunts quietly and I feel him ready for orgasm. I reach down and begin fingering my clit so we can cum together. With one more thrust, we cum, shuddering violently. Father Matthew's cum is spurting hot inside me as I grind a few more times.

Father Matthew pulls me into him, holding me gently as our breathing slows. I can still feel him inside me. "Can we stay like this until you are ready again, Father?" I ask in a whisper.

"Yes," he answers. "It won't take long," he adds with a naughty grin.

And he is right. Soon I can feel him becoming hard again inside me. He is kissing me and stroking my back softly and I am running my fingernails over his ass.

Suddenly we hear the door open softly. I gasp and turn to look. 

"Angela, I was just wondering...." She stops and stares, mouth open slightly. "I, um...oh God." Her face is flushed and she seems to be rooted to the spot.

"It's alright, Rebecca," Father Matthew says quietly. "Come in. Close the door."

Rebecca blinks. She steps further into my room, then turns to close the door. Turning back, she stammers, "I was, I mean I though I heard, I wasn't trying to, I mean...I thought I heard noises." She moves closer to us. "I thought you were by yourself and I thought...", she paused, swallowing. "I thought I might be able to join you."

Looking first at Father Matthew, who nods, I look back at Rebecca and say, "Of course you can." I reach out my hand and she moves forward to take it. I pull her into us and kiss her softly. She reaches out a tentative hand and places it on my breast.  

Her bedroom is next to mine and I am not surprised that she heard our commotion through the thin wall. She is also in Father Matthew's history class and I have been admiring her for several months. She is only a few weeks older than my 18 years and she has a beautiful soft body. Her luscious black curls have always tempted me, and her pouting pink lips have called out my names in a few of my night-time dreams.

Breaking the kiss, she says, "I have always had fantasies about you. I've always wanted to touch you." She pauses and looks to Father Matthew. "But I never imagined a priest." She smiles. "Two for the price of one."

I am still impaled upon Father Matthew and I can feel his cock hard and hot inside me. I take Rebecca's hand and place it at the base of his penis. Her eyes widen as I pull myself up and his cock is left in her hand. My juices are shiny on his shaft and I can see bits of his cum glistening on the tip. I lean down and take his cock in my mouth, tasting myself there. As I begin to suck, Rebecca moves her hand up and down. We play with his cock for a while, but stopping before he nears orgasm again.

I sit back on the bed and Rebecca moves toward me. As we begin kissing, I can see Father Matthew moving in behind Rebecca. She moans softly and I can imagine him playing with her pussy over her panties. I reach forward for one of her breasts, but am impeded by the thick fabric of her pajamas. She responds by whipping them off and throwing them to the side. Next she takes off her panties and flips them away. I take a large, soft breast into my hand and begin to massage it. I can't believe how turned on I am with her. My juices are dripping between my legs and my clit is longing to be touched. We lay back and I spread my knees to allow her pussy to touch mine. Father Matthew is kneeling over us, watching, his cock in his hand. 

Rebecca's hands are moving over my hip, and toward my pussy. I feel a warm finger slip between my folds as she probes my clit. She finds the spot and caresses it gently.

"You've done this before," I whisper.

"Mmm-hmm," she confirms, pressing harder. My hips thrust forward into her hand. I feel her finger inside me, probing deeply. And suddenly I cum, shuddering violently, my pussy squeezing her finger tightly. She pulls her finger out and brings it to my lips. I take her finger into my mouth and lick my juices from it. 

I want to return the pleasure but I'm not sure how. I look to Father Matthew. Without a word, he sits me up and lays Rebecca on her back. He pulls her legs open and I can see her slit glistening before me. "Move forward," Father Matthew says, gently guiding me toward Rebecca. I lay over her and begin to kiss her gently on the mouth, my hands beginning to explore her body. I can feel her nipples, hard as small marbles, pressing into my chest. Her stomach is flat and soft, her hips curved and flawless. I move my kisses down, wandering toward her nipples. I pause here as Father Matthew gives me encouragement. "Take them into your mouth and suckle," he says. I do just that and Rebecca moans softly in pleasure. 

I continue my way down her body, at last coming to her pussy. Again, I pause. Father Matthew takes my hand and guides it between her legs. He shows me where her clit it and helps me to circle it slowly. "Slip your tongue over her clit," he instructs quietly, his hand stroking his cock as he watches. I move my head forward the flick my tongue over Rebecca's clit. She whimpers softly. I can taste her, salty and warm. I press my tongue harder, adding my lips to the kiss. My tongue moves over and around her clit, fast then slow. My fingers are exploring her slit, finding her place of wetness. 

"Slide a finger inside her pussy," Father Matthew whispers.

I slip a finger into the hot opening. Her pussy is large and warm. The soft fluidity slides over my finger as I thrust it in further. "She's so open," I murmur. 

"Put another finger in," Rebecca pleads. "Please! I can take more!"

I look to Father Matthew, who nods in encouragement. He is stroking himself faster now as he watches me pleasure Rebecca. Turning my attention back to her pussy, I lean forward and pull her clit into my mouth. I move a second finger into position and slide in gently inside her. Seeming to want more, I insert a third finger. Then a fourth. I can't believe she is so wide. She is rocking her hips gently. 

"Put your whole fist in," she cries quietly, opening her legs wider. Squeezing my thumb in as tightly to my hand as possible, I begin to force my entire hand through her opening. She is panting and moaning, her hands pinching her nipples. Suddenly my hand pops into her entirely. She gasps and opens her eyes to look down. She bites her bottom lip and reaches forward to touch my face. I begin to work my hand inside of her, sliding back and forth and turning it side to side.

Suddenly I feel Father Matthew behind me. He is fingering my clit, my wetness lubricating my entire pussy. I rock back on his hand, attempting to maintain my concentration on Rebecca's pussy. Then his cock is sliding along my slit, searching for my opening. 

"Oh, Father," I moan.

"Fuck her, Father," Rebecca says quietly. "Slide your huge cock into her hot pussy!"

Father Matthew does just that. I feel the head of his cock enter me. Then his entire length is inside me, thrusting. His hand reaches around me and fingers my clit. I am so near explosion. I can imagine what we must look like... Father Matthew pounding my pussy while he watches me fisting Rebecca, who is watching Father Matthew fuck me. 

I begin to suck Rebecca's clit again as I increase the rhythm of my fisting. I can feel the walls of her tunnel begin to contract. She is grunting and moaning. "Yes, yes, oh, yes. Right there Angela. Oh my god!! Ah, uh, uh, uh, uh!!!" Her hips lift from the bed and I pull her clit deep into my mouth, my fist as deep as I can thrust it. Father Matthew is thrusting deeply inside me and I am nearly ready to cum. I leave my fist inside Rebecca's pussy, allowing Father Matthew to slam his cock into me. His fingers are circling my clit wildly and I can feel him hot inside me.

"Yes, Father!" I cry out. "Harder!" He slams into my pussy, deeper and deeper. We are nearly there. "I'm cumming, Father!!!!! I'm cumming! Aaaaaahhhh!!!" My entire body convulses with the orgasm. I nearly pass out from the pleasure. I can feel Father Matthew's cock inside me tighten and begin to spurt forth his holy seed. He is grunting and grinding himself into me. At last, we relax and fall on top of each other, my head resting on Rebecca's stomach and Father Matthew sprawled across my back. His cock is still inside me. I love the feeling of it there, just lingering and still partially hard.

"That was incredible," I say quietly. Rebecca can only moan in response. Father Matthew kisses me softly on my neck.

Slowly we disentangle ourselves. I feel Father Matthew pull himself out of me and this sends another small shiver of pleasure through me. As I slide my fist out of Rebecca's gaping pussy, she moans in another violent orgasm. I lean over her and kiss her deeply on the mouth, my tongue probing to meet hers. I break away. "Thank you," she whispers.

Father Matthew dresses quietly as he watches Rebecca and I cuddle on the bed. I am cupping her breast and slowly stroking her hip. He leans forward and we kiss. He whispers in my ear, "I will see you again soon, Angela," then quietly he slips from the room. 

Carnal Knowledge Ch. 03



I watch the door close softly as Father Matthew leaves the room. Rebecca's eyes are closed and her head is nestled into the crook of my neck. I am stroking her hip with a delicate fingernail and squeezing her breast with my other hand. I can feel the nipple hardening.

"Are you okay?" I ask her in a whisper. 

"Mmm-hmm," she breathes. 

"You're not freaked out?"

"Not at all." She turns over to look at me. "I have wanted to be with you for a long time. And I've noticed you watching me sometimes."

Blushing slightly, I nod. "I couldn't help it. You're just so beautiful."

Rebecca leans forward and our lips meet in a moist kiss. I breathe in her musky scent and slide my tongue between her lips to flick against hers. I can feel the soft folds on the roof of her mouth and the gentle curves of her teeth. Our tongues tease each other in a sensual dance.

I break the kiss and look into her deep blue eyes. There is a long silky ringlet lying across her cheek and I brush it away. "Can we be together again?" I ask quietly. She smiles and says, "Of course!" She glances at the door, then back at me. "But I should go before we get caught by Sister Anne."

She gathers her clothes, slips them on. I watch her beautiful breasts vanish beneath her gown and her long legs slither into her panties. She gives me one more coy smile and turns to the door.

When she is gone, my mind begins to swirl. I don't understand what has just happened. Father Matthew makes me feel so wonderful...like a woman. But Rebecca also makes me feel sexy. And her body excites me beyond reason. Is it possible to love both men and women? Is it a sin? Pulling the sheets over my shoulder and turning on my side, I decide I shall speak with Father Matthew tomorrow.

****

In the morning I make my way to the shower room. As I push the door open I see Rebecca just stepping from a shower, her body glistening with moisture. Her long black hair is cascading down her chest and her nipples are peaking out from beneath. I catch her eye and she blushes slightly as her mouth turns into a grin. 

As much as I am longing to, I can't stand and watch her dry herself, as there are several other girls in the room. So I slip out of my clothes, with her eyes wandering over my body, and step into a shower stall. The thought of her wet, naked body are more than enough to send my clit into a heated frenzy. As I soap myself, my fingers make their way to my pussy and begin to play. I feel the folds, soft and slippery. I imagine it is Rebecca's hand giving me pleasure. Moving further, I slide a finger into my opening and begin stroking in and out. It is all I can do not to call out as an orgasm takes me. 

I quickly finish my shower. Rebecca has dressed and gone already. I dry myself and return to my dorm room. Once I am dressed in my uniform, I make my way to breakfast. It is agony watching Rebecca across the room, talking with her friends. I want her all to myself.

Again, classes seem to drag. I am anticipating speaking with Father Matthew at the end of the day. Sister Mary gives me many stern looks during my algebra class, as she must have noticed my inattention. 

Finally, the last bell rings and I hastily pack my bags. As I walk toward his office, I pray that Father Matthew is there. I knock on the frosted glass and I hear him call me in. His face brightens as he sees me enter and close the door.

"Angela," he says, motioning with his hand to a chair in front of his desk. "How are you this afternoon?"

"Very well, Father." I nervously tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

"Is there something bothering you, my child?"

"Um, well, sort of," I stammer. "Last night..."

Again he smiles. "Yes, last night..."

"I really enjoyed it, Father. I loved being with you and feeling you inside me." I pause, clearing my throat. "But I also loved being with Rebecca. Her body is so soft and wanting. I could have pleasured her for hours!"

Father Matthew gives a soft chuckle. "I understand."

"But," I pause again, shuffling my feet. "Is it normal?"

"Is what normal?" he asks.

"Is it normal to love both men and women?" I blurt out.

He leans forward, clasping his hands on his desk. "I think it can be very normal and very healthy. It is a special gift from God to be so able to love."

I nod and he continues. "But if you are confused, I might be able to arrange something for you."

"Arrange what, Father?"

"An experience with another man, perhaps. To test your longing for male attentions."

Considering a moment, I lift my eyes to his and nod. "That would be wonderful." I would love to experience another man's touch and see if I am able to obtain the glorious pleasure of his loving.

Father Matthew returns to his desk and flips through a calendar book. "Bishop McGregor will be staying at the school tonight and will be giving mass tomorrow. Shall I arrange a meeting for you?"

My heart skips a beat. The bishop? "I would be honored, Father."

"Alright. Come back to my office at nine o'clock tonight."

****

My heart is pounding as I lift my hand to tap on the glass of Father Matthew's door. His husky voice calls me in and I turn the knob. I slip quickly in, close the door, and turn the lock. As I turn back, I see Father Matthew sitting next to an older man on the couch in the corner. He has a shock of white hair, gentle eyes, and broad shoulders. His long black cassock is punctuated by the stark white of his collar. 

"Angela, this is Bishop McGregor. Bishop, this is the young lady I was telling you about."

The Bishop stands and moves toward me, holding his hands up for me to grasp. I take them and follow him back to the couch where he sits me down. "Bishop, it is so kind of you to see me," I say quietly, blushing furiously. He reaches his hand forward and lifts my chin so my eyes meet his. They are an emerald green and pierce through my soul.

"It is my pleasure, my child," he says. "Father Matthew has been telling me you are having confused thoughts. Perhaps I will be able to help." Bishop McGregor leans forward and pulls me into a gentle kiss. My lips part to his probing tongue. My heart beat has quickened and my palms are moist. The heat between my legs has also exploded. As we kiss, the bishop's hands begin to move over my body, touching first my shoulders then my breasts. My nipples harden instantly to his fingers through the fabric of my blouse. He fumbles with the buttons, opening them one by one. When the last one is free, he slowly slides my blouse from my shoulders and lets it drop onto the couch behind me. I can feel my sensitive nipples straining against my bra. Bishop McGregor sneaks a hand into the left cup of my bra and fondles me. I hear Father Matthew stand and come around beside me. He reaches forward and releases the clasp of my bra. It slips off and falls to the floor. As the bishop kisses me and caresses my breasts, Father Matthew lifts my hair and begins kissing me down my neck and back. 

Bishop McGregor is tugging at my skirt now. Suddenly, the button pops free and my kilt is open and my black lace panties are revealed. I hear the bishop moan to himself as he catches a glimpse. He reaches his hand forward to press into my place of pleasures. I shudder as his finger hits my clit. Father Matthew's hands have now found my breasts and he tugs and strokes them tenderly while he kisses my neck and shoulders. I lean my head back in pleasure, reveling in the attentions of these two men.

Now the bishop is pulling me into a standing position. We kiss and he pulls me into his chest. I can feel his hardness beneath his robes and my mouth waters. My hands grope toward his groin, slipping between the folds of the fabric. Suddenly, I feel his penis in my hand, hard and hot. I begin to stroke. But all I want is to have his cock in my mouth. I kneel before him, parting the folds of his robes. His cock bounces out and stands tall in front of my face. The head is a deep red, almost purple. There are long, pulsating veins running along his length. His sac is tight and longing to be touched. Gently, I take his balls into my hand and begin to squeeze very gently. My tongue slips out between my teeth and flicks across the head of his cock. Soon, my lips follow as I take more of his length into my mouth. I slide my tongue over him and suck hard with my lips. More and more of cock is sliding down my throat. He is trembling and moaning in pleasure. Releasing his cock from my mouth, I begin to tease him. I blow softly on the glistening head of his penis. "Oh Lord God!" he calls out. His fingers are in my hair, stroking gently. I trail my fingers lightly over his length, then return to his sac. Moving my head down, I take his balls into my mouth and suck them deeply. 

Father Matthew has moved in behind me. He has removed his robes and I can feel his hard cock pressing against the small of my back. His hands are roaming over my breasts as I continue to suck the bishop. I can tell Bishop McGregor is nearing climax as his balls tighten and his breathing quickens. But I don't want him to cum yet. I want to feel him inside me. I release him from my mouth and I stand. I slip my panties off and go to the couch. 

"I need to feel you inside me, Bishop," I say, leaning back into the cushions and spreading my legs. His eyes are glistening as he hastens to undress. He kneels on the floor between my legs and begins to caress my thighs. His fingers move in toward my folds, but not touching them yet. Now he is teasing me. Father Matthew looks on, his cock in his hand, as the bishop slowly fondles my pubic hair. I close my eyes as the bishop touches my clit and begins to rub gently. My hips are beginning to rock back and forth. It feels so wonderful.

Bishop McGregor bends his head down and I suddenly feel my clit pulled into his moist and loving mouth. His tongue is probing and sensual, exploring all of my folds and crevices. Now his fingers are slipping into my moisture, searching for my opening. My pussy is throbbing with intense pleasure. I open my eyes again and watch the bishop sucking and fondling. It is all I can do not to cum. 

I can see Father Matthew's cock, hot and erect. I motion with my eyes and my lips open partially. Taking the invitation, he kneels on the couch beside me and I take his cock into my mouth. I suck hard and fast, loving the feel of his cock on my tongue. My hands move to stroke his balls. His breath quickens.

Meanwhile, the bishop takes a gentle finger and begins sliding it inside of me. He presses it all the way in and begins to move it around. Somewhere deep inside, I can feel him stroking. I moan loudly, Father Matthew's cock deep in my throat. Then the bishop's tongue is over my clit again, pulling on it deeply. His finger is moving faster, pulling in and out now. I am nearing orgasm. I can feel muscles deep inside me begin to contract. Bishop McGregor must feel this too. He pulls his finger out of my pussy and takes his cock in his hand. He has my juices on his fingers and he begins to stroke himself as I watch. I can see a small glisten of cum on his penis, not an orgasm, but the beginnings of one. I let Father Matthew's cock fall from my mouth and I plead with the bishop.

"Slip it inside me, Bishop. Please! I need to feel you inside me."

Again, he teases me. He places the head of his cock at my opening and presses, just a little. Just enough to get it wet. Then he moves it up and slaps his cock on my clit. My back arches from the couch. He slaps again and I arch again. "Oh Lord Jesus!" I whisper. "Please, Bishop!" I cry. "Please!"

"Please what?" he asks.

I am panting, straining myself toward his cock. "Please fuck me! Put your cock inside me and fuck me!"

Suddenly, he obeys. He slams his cock into my hole, ramming deeply. He pulls back, then thrusts in again. And again. And again. My hips are rocking in unison to his pounding. 

I can hardly contain myself when the bishop moves forward and takes Father Matthew's cock into his mouth. As he slams into me, he sucks the priest's dick and takes its entire length into his throat. I watch as Father Matthew begins to convulse with orgasm. The bishop releases his cock and Father Matthew begins to spurt across my chest. His seed is hot as it hits my nipples. Bishop McGregor leans in and begins to suckle my nipple and clean the cum from my breast with his tongue. It is more than I can take. My back arches and I begin to shake. The bishop quickens his pace, slamming violently into my pussy. I can feel his cock hitting deep inside me. Suddenly he grunts and spasms. His hot cum spurts forth inside my longing pussy. My entire body is shaking and writhing. After a few more quick strokes, Bishop McGregor pulls his cock from my pussy, a long string of cum clinging to the head. He sits back on the floor and gently strokes his quickly softening cock. He shudders again with an aftershock of pleasure. 

My body is limp. My legs remain splayed open and Bishop McGregor is looking into my gaping pussy. He smiles and nods. "That was exquisite, my child."

Father Matthew leans over me and kisses me softly on the lips. "It was indeed." 

They help me to dress and I walk to the door on wobbly legs. Before going, I turn back and say, "Thank you Father. And you, Bishop." Smiling shyly, I add, "I have definitely learned that I long for and love the attentions of men." I open the door and make my way to my room.



Carnal Knowledge Ch. 03



Author's Note: Thanks so much to all of you who have read, commented, and fav'd my story! I appreciate it very much. Please continue to overlook any historical errors or anachronisms; I apologize and try to avoid them as best I can.

In reply to some comments, no, nothing here is original or particularly creative, but I hope some of you will find some enjoyment all the same.

Happy reading!

Much love,

Emmeline

*

Eliza stared up at the butler, wondering if she had heard correctly. "Gone?" she echoed.

She had come downstairs to seek the earl out before dinner, determined to demand her stolen money back.

"Yes, Miss Lockhart. The earl has departed for a short time, but I am to inform you that you are welcome to take your meals in the dining room if you should choose."

The butler raised an eyebrow, and she realized she was scowling at him.

"Thank you, but I prefer to dine alone in the kitchen or with the children in the nursery," she replied stiffly.

The butler nodded, his face neutral. "As you wish."

How could Rockdale be gone already? He had just returned! The man defied understanding. 

Uneasy, Eliza spent her time in the nursery with the children as much as possible. She kept a wary eye out for George the footman, but succeeded in avoiding him for the most part.

Each night, she locked her chamber door and dragged a chair in front of it. She had even purloined a heavy bronze candlestick and a small kitchen knife to use as weapons if the occasion should arise.

One rainy afternoon, the children played in the nursery, and Eliza stared, unseeing, out the window, her mood dark and brooding.

"Something has put the spark out of you, girl," observed Mary, the nursery maid.

Eliza bit her lip. The urge to confess everything was almost overpowering. She tried a wan smile instead. "Oh, I'm fine."

Her friend harrumphed and pinned Eliza with a searching look. "His lordship's been gone over a week now."

Eliza struggled to keep a straight face. "Has he?" she said weakly.

Mary's expression softened. "Don't lose yer heart to him, lass. He's handsome enough to make even my old heart pitter-pat, but the gentry are not for the likes of us," she said kindly.

Eliza's eyes burned with sudden tears; she blinked to keep them at bay. "I'm just homesick, that's all."

"You need to get out of this nursery for a bit! Why don't you go ask that stick-up-his-arse Simpson if any post has come for you?"

Eliza snorted at Mary's unkind, but apt, description of the butler.

"I would love a letter from home," she replied wistfully.

"Then go, lass," she said, making a shooing motion. "Go on, now."

Eliza smiled gratefully and escaped the nursery. She set out to locate Simpson, only to discover no one seemed to know where he had gone. She grumbled to herself, wondering if the man was napping somewhere. 

"For heaven's sake," she muttered, seeing nothing but empty rooms as she wandered down a second-floor hallway.

She paused, hearing what she thought might be muted voices. One low murmur sounded like Simpson.

Eliza turned and followed the sound, coming to a partially closed door at the very end of the hallway. She peeped through the opening.

There, inside a cozy sitting room stood Simpson, facing to the side and looking down. Sally, the upstairs maid, knelt at his feet. The girl was probably a bit younger than Eliza herself, and her vibrantly red, curly hair shone in a beam of sunlight streaming through the window. The girl's cap lay discarded to the side.

How curious. I wonder if she is cleaning the floor, Eliza mused. But, some odd intensity in Simpson's expression kept Eliza from drawing the couple's attention.

The little maid was quite pretty, though normally timid as a mouse. Her milky skin glowed in the sunshine, gilded by a liberal dusting of freckles.

Simpson, his expression dour as usual, flicked an impatient hand toward the maid.

Eliza blinked in surprise as Sally quickly unlaced her white bodice and tugged it down, revealing small breasts, high and softly-rounded, topped with pink, puffy nipples.

Simpson's hands moved to the fall of his trousers. His engorged cock emerged, shockingly crude against his black attire.

Unable to drag her eyes away, Eliza stared, helplessly rapt, as Simpson sank one hand into the plethora of crimson curls and grasped his cock with the other.

"Here's a good girl," he murmured, rubbing the glistening head of his penis against the bow of the maid's rosebud mouth. "Open up now, you know what to do."

Sally obediently parted her lips wide, and Simpson immediately guided his purple-veined cock inside.

Eliza was stunned. Sally had allowed the butler to put his penis into her mouth! 

The stiff organ appeared and disappeared as it slid repeatedly between Sally's stretched lips. The maid licked and suckled Simpson's erection with apparent enthusiasm, one small hand wrapped around the base of his cock. Her wet lips glided smoothly over the taut skin.

Eliza bit her lip. A tingly-heat began to build in her lower abdomen. She realized suddenly that this shocking display was mimicking what the earl had done to Eliza...between her legs...in her secret place.

"Clever girl," the butler muttered, his head bowed over Sally's ministrations. Red curls bounced as the maid's head tirelessly bobbed over his groin.

Eliza pressed her thighs together. Her bodice suddenly felt much too tight.

It was shameful to watch...to listen...Simpson's breath whistled through his gritted teeth, and Sally moaned, her mouth full of cock. And yet...

"Hands in your lap," he ordered suddenly, his voice harsh.

The girl instantly complied, and the butler's hand roughly slid around to the back of the maid's head, anchoring her in place. Simpson seized control of the encounter, pumping himself deeper and faster into the girl's mouth.

Sally's eyes went wide, but she remained kneeling docilely, her gaze upward and steady on his face.

Eliza felt flushed all over. She told herself it was fear of discovery and not fascination keeping her rooted in place. Eliza's nipples were like hard pebbles, and her hand flew up to her lips as the butler shoved so deep into Sally's mouth, the little maid gagged.

Undeterred, he continued to thrust his penis into what Eliza felt sure had to be the poor girl's throat. Sally gagged again, and Simpson withdrew his cock swiftly, his hand pumping hard and fast over his shaft. 

Using a fistful of her curls, Simpson tugged the girl upward slightly and with a groan he began to ejaculate streams of semen onto her bare breasts and chest.

Eliza took a step backward, and then another. Her heart thrummed wildly in her chest. A corresponding ache pulsed between her legs.

Staring at the couple for another long moment, she then turned and dashed down the hallway.

Her mind was fixed on the sight of Sally's bare breasts, like pretty, little, strawberry-topped cakes coated with glistening ropes of creamy icing.

And then, maid's small, pink tongue as she delicately lapped up the pearly remnants from the butler's penis.

Oh, God. She shook her head to clear it, trembling as she reached the servants' stairway. This house was a den of sin and shameful behavior. The madness must be tainting her mind and body.

Things at home had been sensible and calm. Women and men acted demurely, never wantonly or crudely. Normal people didn't put their private parts in other people's mouths...did they? Suddenly everything in Eliza's world felt topsy-turvy.

Intimate relations were reserved for marriage. And if Eliza's mother was to be believed, quite distasteful, and endured only for the sake of breeding. It is a women's duty to withstand much hardship, her mother had explained with a weary sigh.

Why then, was her body remembering the earl's assault on her senses? She had hated it!

Except the part where he rubbed you in just the right spot, some wicked part of her whispered.

"Oh, mother," she said raggedly. "I wish you were here to advise me."

Reaching the nursery, Eliza hurried inside and shut the door as if someone had chased her from the second floor. Startled, everyone inside looked up.

"Is aught amiss?" queried Nanny Goodson.

"Oh! Er, no! Not at all, all is well," Eliza assured heartily.

Even the children regarded her doubtfully.

"Miss Lockhart, you look red all over like a giant beet," Anna observed.

"Play time is over. Let us begin with mathematics," Eliza said firmly to a double chorus of groans.

That evening, her nerves still frayed, Eliza readied for bed. She undressed and pulled her nightgown over her head, frowning at the feel of the fabric. Her skin felt strangely sensitive.

She stared at herself in the looking glass and rubbed her arms briskly, uncomfortable with these strange feelings. Her nipples were still tight and achy.

She let out a slow breath, eyes drifting closed. Her fingers trailed down her neck and over her breasts. Unbidden, an image of the earl's face came into her mind.

It was too easy to remember how he had licked and gently bit the hard tips of her breasts before drawing them into his mouth to suckle. She moaned softly and lightly pinched her nipples.

Her eyes snapped open. Wanton thoughts again! She shivered and snatched her hands away from her tingling breasts. 

Stop this at once, she commanded herself sternly. 

But no matter how hard Eliza tried to focus on planning her lessons, her mind seemed to be working against her. Visions of Simpson with his stiff cock thrusting between Sally's lips, and then spurting his seed over the maid's exposed chest played over and over in her head. 

Once abed, she fell into a restless sleep, plagued with erotic dreams. Her head tossed upon the pillow, her mind conjuring the earl himself--there in the bed with her. But somehow, in the strange dream world, she was not afraid.

Languid, she sighed as his hands slowly massaged her back, his touch feather-light and almost...reverent.

The dream earl gathered her close, his hand stroking her hair. She nestled into his embrace. His warm naked skin surrounded her.

She felt safe. Secure. Cherished.

"Eliza, my lovely," he murmured near her ear. "Truly, you are an angel."

She stubbornly clung to the dream as he kissed her softly. His tongue slid into her mouth, cupping her jaw with one hand. His thumb stroked her cheek.

It seemed natural to kiss him back, to twine her tongue with his. His taste was addictive—like every wicked, sinful thing she'd ever wanted to do but never had.

She craved more of it and whimpered when he drew back.

"Rockdale," she whispered.

Then the earl shifted lower, urging her legs wide, not forcibly invading, but gently touching. His fingers traced her inner folds.

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth as his finger dipped inside, finding her slickness and spreading it around.

"What have we here?" He chuckled softly, and his breath flowed over the sensitive area he caressed. "My little dove is so very wet and ready for me."

A shiver passed through her body as something wet and slick fluttered over her nether lips.

His tongue. Oh, dear lord, it was his wonderful tongue, flicking and teasing along her slit.

The dream earl used his thumbs to part her labia wide. Then he licked and lapped at the delicate flesh within.

Even in her dream she knew she should be appalled at this embarrassingly carnal act. Oh, but it felt...oh, it felt so exquisite.

Her toes curled into the bedding. The wet glide of his tongue seemed to delve into every secret crevice.

Oh yes, oh yes, right there! His clever tongue had discovered her sensitive button.

She widened her legs to give him better access and felt his hum of approval vibrate between her legs.

"Delicious honey pot," he murmured.

With a deep gasp of awareness, Eliza came fully awake. The dark head buried between her thighs was unmistakable even in the near dark.

"Oh!"

His finger pushed inside her as his tongue continued to flick her button. Panting, she met his glittering eyes before shamefully closing her own.

"Don't," she whispered, but it had little power, even to her own ears.

Eliza searched for the strength to push him away. Why was she allowing this monster in her bed!

Heat suffused her body and continued to build. She felt driven to the edge of a precipice and whimpered in confusion.

Her traitorous body did not want to be denied. Desire and lust spiraled and twisted around her limbs like a sinuous snake.

Her hips undulated of their own accord against his mouth.

He bit lightly at her slick nubbin and added another finger inside her, curling them slightly as they pushed in and out.

"Come for me now. Give me more of that sweet juice for my cock."

No! No, she didn't want this! Her hands moved down to push him away but instead sank into his dark hair.

"Rockdale, please!"

The orgasm caught her hard. She cried out, body bucking as he held her fast and continued to lash her with his tongue. Pleasure enveloped her in waves of sensation.

"Oh, my God." Breathless and dazed, she finally collapsed back against the mattress.

She felt his mouth against her stomach as he inched her nightgown up.

"My lord will do," Rockdale replied huskily, dipping his tongue into her navel. "But you can refer to me as such if you are feeling particularly blasphemous."

His wicked, self-satisfied grin started her shattered mind to working again. She fumbled for her candlestick, bracing herself to use it and quickly.

He drew her nightgown up over her breasts and paused to leisurely nuzzle and lick her nipples.

"It's in the floor," he whispered against her breasts, nipping her with his teeth.

"How did you get in here?" she demanded and shoved hard at his head.

He tugged her nightgown over her head and tossed it to the side despite her efforts to hang on to it.

"It's my damn house," he returned, kissing the corner of her mouth. "You think to keep me out?"

As if illustrating his point, his hard penis nudged insistently between her legs. She began to struggle in earnest, rearing her fist back to punch him in the face. He grabbed her fist out of the air and wrenched both of her hands over her head.

"I quite enjoyed your moans and cries when you came on my face. In fact, darling, your little pussy was already wet at my first touch. Been thinking of me?" He smirked down at her.

Eliza squirmed against his firm hold. "I wish you had stayed away forever."

He continued to chuckle, rubbing the head of his penis against her folds.

"I'd find that infinitely more convincing if I wasn't covered in all this delightful juice from your pussy."

Eliza gritted her teeth as the blunt tip of his cock abruptly settled into position at the entrance to her womb. Her muscles tensed against the burning stretch she remembered from before.

"Nooo..." she hissed, arching upward. But it was futile. She was snared beneath his big body.

Eliza cried out as the earl's hard length penetrated deep in one powerful thrust. But strangely, there was no pain...only a great fullness.

Her gaze locked with the earl's. She felt open, raw, and vulnerable. Almost as if he could see to her very soul.

He began to move within her, a slow exquisite slide in and out.

"You feel so good, so tight," he crooned, bracing himself on his one free hand above her. "I've missed you, sweet Eliza. Christ! Your pussy clings to my cock like a hungry mouth."

Unwillingly, the whispered naughty words and the slide of his hardness inside set the forbidden spark aflame in her senses again. 

"You love having my cock in you," he murmured in her ear. "This little slippery pussy is mine to fuck."

"No! You're an evil man. Let me go!" She tried to pull her hands free from his hold, desperate to break the dark spell he had somehow cast over her. "Let me go!"

The earl abruptly withdrew from her body and released her hands. In one smooth motion, he flipped her over onto her front.

"Up on your knees," he commanded. 

"What! No!"

She flailed around and scrambled to get off the bed. Catching hold of her, his hand smacked down on the cheek of her bottom. She yelped in surprise. 

Rockdale hauled her back in place, her rear lifted high in the air. 

"What are you doing? Please stop!" she begged, struggling against the awkward position.

The earl slapped her hard on the bottom once, twice, three times more. "Keep your little arse still, or I'll redden it so well you won't sit for a week," he snarled.

She cursed him and squealed as he grasped her hips and rammed his cock back inside her.

His hands slid down to her shoulders, keeping her upper body down against the mattress as he drove repeatedly into her from behind.

Dimly she realized he was mounting her like a stallion would a mare, and she battled both shame and excitement as she turned her head to see him kneeling behind her, teeth bared.

***

Rockdale plunged his cock into her with wild abandon, realizing she had quietened under his tight hold. He met her wide, shocked eyes and held her gaze, reaching down to find her clitoris.

It was slick under his fingers, and her eyes drifted closed as he stroked her. He smiled in savage satisfaction as he heard her cry out and her cunt tightened around his cock like a fist as she came again. 

Leaning over her prone body, he wrapped her long braid of fair hair around his fist, using it to pull her head up.

"Mine," he growled, his cock pounding her pussy. Let the chit deny it all she pleased. He would be glad to repeatedly demonstrate who was master here.

The soft flesh of her arse bounced and quivered under his assault. Her little quim felt incredibly snug and slick; he wanted to fuck it all night, making up for the time he had been away.

"My lord, please!"

Rockdale heard the girl crying out, but whether it was a plea for him to stop or fuck her harder he had no idea and frankly didn't care. His whole world centered down on his cock's frantic penetration.

"Oh, shit," he groaned, feeling his balls tighten as a powerful orgasm coursed through his body. His hips jerked as his cock spurted inside her over and over.

His breath came hard in short pants. He stared down the line of her body prostrate before him, deliciously plump arse pressed against his groin. 

The sight of her so vulnerable and submissive flared something dark and possessive inside of him. Reluctant to withdraw, he shifted to lay full-length on the bed and drew her back against him. He nuzzled her damp temple and kissed her forehead.

Her body was tense under his lazily caressing hands. "I cannot understand this," she said finally, her voice hoarse.

"Which part, darling?" He rubbed his body against hers, enjoying the friction of their damp, naked skin. "I fucked your brains out, made you come...twice, wasn't it? Nothing complicated, people have been doing it since the beginning of time."

"I hate what you're doing to me! It's wrong! But yet...my body..." she broke off and turned her face toward the pillow.

"Your body knows what it wants, Eliza." His hand cupped her breast and squeezed. "There's nothing wrong with giving and receiving pleasure in bedsport."

"It's not proper! I don't want—"

Rockdale shushed her with his mouth, guiding her face around to his with a hand on her chin. He licked at her lips, craving the taste of her, his tongue sliding inside to find more of her sweetness.

He released her mouth and felt her shiver as his lips began to explore her delicate ear. He slid his hand from her chin to trace over her breast.

"You can deny it all you want, but I know you love it." He nibbled lightly on her lobe. "Your body is so responsive to my attentions. Don't you to learn more about the pleasure we can give one another, darling?" he coaxed softly in her ear.




Carnal Knowledge Ch. 03



She wiggled away from him, and his cock slid from her body. He fisted his hands to keep from dragging her back.

Eliza sat up abruptly and faced him. "I want to know, Lord Rockdale. Is this your habit--to force women in your employ?"

He sat up as well, fighting down his welling irritation.

She faltered, her expression distressed. "W--why me?"

He met her heated entreaty with a dark stare.

"Tell me, damn you!" She pounded the mattress with her hand. "Not only have you forced me to have intimate relations with you, but you are a blackmailer and a thief!"

Rockdale narrowed his eyes and rose from the bed, looming over her. She shrank back from his advance. 

He smiled and knew it was not a nice smile.

"I am lord of this estate and everything and everyone on it. It is my right to take what is mine. Besides, my sweet, have I not given you pleasure as well as taken my own?"

He trailed a finger down her bare breast, and she slapped it away.

"You arrogant bastard! You are not some conquering Viking, and I am not yours just because you are my employer. I have a home and family who love me. I will leave here as soon as I am able." She glared up at him defiantly.

The thought of Eliza being able to leave him filled the earl with inexplicable anger. He bent over her, using his larger size deliberately to intimidate her.

"You have not asked where I went on my trip, little dove."

He watched her reaction carefully and smirked as her expression turned wary.

"My man of business and I took a trip to Lancashire. Beautiful countryside there, do you not think?"

He continued speaking, and she gasped in sudden understanding.

"Yes, I have made a splendid new investment. Bought the sweetest little cottage," he paused, "in fact, you may know the family that rents the cottage. Mrs. Lockhart is her name, and the daughter, oh yes, her name is Abigail, I believe. The most beautiful girl...just on the cusp of sweet womanhood."

Rockdale did not hide the triumph that swept him, and he saw fear and fury erupt in her blue eyes. 

She launched herself forward, screeching at him. "You, monster! How dare you do this?"

He caught her, restraining her flailing arms, and hauled the furious girl into his lap. "Do not be so distraught, darling. I will, of course, continue to rent to your family under the same terms as your old landlord. That is, if you and I come to a certain understanding."

***

Eliza fought against his grip mightily, her body bowing and bucking. She stared at the hateful earl in resentment, noting bitterly he seemed to exert no effort at all.

"I loathe and despise you," she spat at him, her body finally weakening.

"I gather that," he said, "but still, here we are. Do we have an understanding, Miss Lockhart?"

"What bloody understanding? Am I to be your slave? Subject to your every depraved, perverted whim?"

"Yes," he answered simply.

"No! No, I won't do it!"

He forced her back down on the bed, his weight holding her down. "Consider this...I will see that a doctor from London visits your ailing mother every week that you stay. Furthermore, when our affair is concluded, I will give the cottage in Lancashire to you free and clear."

She froze in place, shocked. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I can." He shrugged. "However, there are things I will expect from you in return."

A tear rolled down her cheek. "You want to keep fucking me?" she whispered.

"Of course. But what I have in mind entails a little more than just fucking. I want to teach you...mold you into my perfect sexual partner. And you, my little governess, will be a willing pupil in whatever I wish you to learn and to experience." 

"Being a lord does not give you leave to treat another person this way," she said hoarsely. "You have fenced me in, threatened the livelihood of my family, and given me no alternative but to give in to you. Though I am a commoner, a woman, and weaker than you, I still have a right to make my own choices," she said bitterly.

"Eliza, don't be tiresome. Truthfully, you should be grateful I have decided to take you in hand."

She gaped at him. "Surely, you cannot be serious!"

"You must face reality, darling. You have no male relatives to see to your welfare, no funds, and no social standing. You're woefully innocent to the ways of the world, and your face and form are...shall we say...quite stimulating." He pinched her nipple hard and rolled away from her to stand.

He began to pull his clothing back on and continued, "A man was going to claim you, take your maidenhead. At least I gave a care to your pleasure when I took your virginity."

"You tied me up!"

"You shouldn't have been traipsing about half-naked."

She spluttered in outrage. "I was not--!"

He tossed her balled-up nightgown at her, catching her in the head. "Besides, didn't your parents ever tell you not let strange men pour things into your drink?" He shook his head in mock reproval.

"You're mad," she hissed, jerking her nightgown over her head. "What would your wife say about you doing this to her children's governess?" she demanded.

He became very still, and Eliza swallowed hard.

The earl chuckled without humor. "She accused me of fucking the household servants and the every woman I encountered, but I was completely faithful to her. More fool me, as she was screwing most of the young bloods in London, including my closest friend. I don't even think Nicholas and Anna are my true offspring. So don't imagine that I am violating the memory of my dear, sweet, virtuous wife."

His words hung in the air between them.

After a moment, Rockdale continued, "After the bitch was dead, I decided it was high time for me to have a woman on MY terms."

"Isn't that...isn't that what mistresses and whores are for, my lord?" she asked unsteadily.

He turned away from her to peer out the window into the darkness. "Since Isabelle died, I've sampled both, believe me, darling. Not much satisfaction in dipping your wick into some slut that's been had more times than she can count.

"I wanted something different. Not another slut, certainly not another wife," he shuddered. "A girl that was...fresh and...unsullied. I explained it all to my friend Harry Cavendish one drunken night, and he told me he knew of just the perfect girl for my new endeavor."

Eliza blinked slowly, her mind awhirl. "Surely...surely, you don't mean Sir Harold?" She struggled to process this new information.

He laughed shortly and turned back from the window. "None other."

"But, he was a friend of my father!"

"Undoubtedly, darling, but he's a right old pervert as well. Haven't sat on his lap before have you?"

"What!"

"Better warn your sister, he has an eye for the youngish ones."

"Oh, my God! That's disgusting." Eliza covered her eyes and fought back the tears that threatened. "I thought he wrote me a letter of recommendation!"

The earl guffawed. "Oh, he did. I had a cock-stand just reading it." He moved closer and cupped one of her breasts in his hand. "Bloody hell, the old fart knows exactly what I like."

Eliza tried to jerk away, but he grabbed her upper arm and dragged her body up against his.

"So, love," he drawled. "Do we have an agreement?" Let's get this all settled now, shall we? It's time for your first lesson."



Carnal Knowledge Ch. 04



I return to my room, my legs jittery, and sweat trickling between my breasts. Images of the Bishop sucking Father Mathew's cock flit through my mind. I quietly turn the knob to my room and push the door silently open. There before my eyes, legs splayed open and fingers deep inside her pussy, is Rebecca. I stop short, thinking I have gone one room too far. But as her eyes open and she looks at me with a naughty grin, I realize she has been waiting for me to return. 

I snap the door shut behind me and quickly move over to the bed. As I sit on the edge, Rebecca pulls her fingers out from her pussy and scoots over to make room for me. With a contented sigh, I flop down beside her. 

"How was it?" she asks. 

Images again flash behind my eyes. "Erotic, sensual, dirty..."

"What was he like? The Bishop..."

Licking my lips, I say, "Yummy."

Rebecca giggles and rolls over top of me. Her soft hair hangs down into my face, black curls slightly mussed from lying among the pillows. I can see her brown, perky nipples and the gentle curves of her breasts as they sway over me. "Let me taste," she says, leaning forward. We kiss, as gentle as cotton candy. "Mmm, I can taste him. But you didn't let him cum in your mouth, did you?" she teased. "I wish you had, so I could share."

"No," I whisper. "If you want to taste him, you'll have to..." I lower my eyes. "...kiss down lower."

Her eyes widen in surprise, which turned to evil pleasure. "You let him cum inside you?"

I could only shudder in response.

Rebecca's hands move to my thighs, caressing me over my skirt. We begin to kiss, more passionately this time. Her tongue is hot and longing in my mouth, her lips strong and masterful. My body begins to respond to her touch. My fingers move into her hair and trail over the nape of her neck. She is moving toward my hips with her hand, seeking to find my panties. Her other hand is unbuttoning my blouse. When my breasts are exposed, she breaks the kiss and moves to my nipple. She pulls it deep into her mouth and sucks strongly. Instantly I feel tingling in my pussy.

I lift my hips and assist Rebecca to pull of my sopping panties. She continues to suckle my breast as her fingers move closer to my pussy. Her thumb finds my clit and she teases me gently. My knees part further and I push my hips into her hand. She breaks away from my breast and sprinkles kisses over my tummy, moving toward my wetness below. 

"I can smell him," she breathes. She moves her fingers to my opening, slowly slipping one inside. Withdrawing it, she moves it up to her lips and tastes. "I can taste him." Suddenly her face is pressed into my sopping pussy. She thrusts her tongue deep inside me. I can feel her move it in and out as she laps up Bishop McGregor's cum. Her fingers find my clit and she kneads it fiercely. 

"Oh God!" I cry out softly, as an orgasm begins to build. Rebecca must feel it, and she picks up the rhythm. Finally, I burst out in pleasure, adding more juices to Rebecca's glistening face.

"I need some of his cum," she whispers to me. "Come here." She motions for me to sit up. She moves towards me, beginning to intertwine our legs. As she gets into the right position, our pussies are pressed together. Our pussies are kissing. I can feel the wetness of her pussy with the lips of mine. It's slippery and sensual, and I nearly cum again. 

Slowly, so slowly, we begin to grind our hips, our pussies gliding against one another. I can feel her inner folds, her clit, her wetness. Our breasts are pressed between us, our breath synchronized. We don't kiss. We only pulsate.

I move my hands down her back and pull her hips tighter into me. My thighs are wet with our juices, making our grinding more fluid. Wet, slopping noises fill the room. Strong, sweet odors fill my nose. I can feel myself nearing climax. Our grinding becomes small, strong circles. Our clits are fondling each other's. Our juices are flowing between us. Finally, Rebecca begins to shudder. I can feel her pussy lips tightening against mine, her thighs clamping tighter around my hips. As she throws her heads back and arches her spine, I feel myself cumming. My entire body shivers and spasms, and all I can do is hold onto Rebecca.

Finally, our breathing slows. We stay pressed together, our pussies shuddering and sopping wet. I take a deep breath of Rebecca's hair. She gently strokes my back.

Some time later, we disentangle and crawl under the sheets. We sleep, spooned, until morning.

*****

It is Saturday morning and I awake to a wet, hot mouth on my pussy. A tongue is working deftly on my clit and there are several fingers inside me. My nipples are erect and there is sweat beaded on my tummy. I can tell this has been going on for some time. Suddenly, I hear a quiet buzzing. Then a cold, hard object is pressed to my clit. Vibrations fill my pussy and I nearly cum. My eyes pop open and look into the wickedly grinning face of Rebecca.

"I though you might enjoy a little toy action," she whispers, trailing the vibrator through my wet folds, toward my waiting pussy. I nod eagerly in return, then close my eyes again. 

Rebecca moves the toy over my clit again, lightly tapping it. She trails it over my mound, then over my outer lips, teasing me. She likes to tease me. I then feel her hot lips on my clit, and she pulls it strongly into her mouth. The vibrator finds its way to my opening and she pushes it in partway, twisting it round and round. Then she breaks off her pussy-kiss and concentrates on violating me with the dildo. She pushes the tip further into me and I can feel its vibrations deep within. Soon nearly the entire toy is buried inside my pussy. 

Now she begins to thrust the vibrator in and out, like a thick and eager cock. "You like that, you little slut," she whispers. "You dirty little girl."

My breathing quickens. "Mmm-hmm," I moan, beginning to rotate my hips in time to her thrusting.

All of a sudden we hear a sharp intake of breath, a choked off cry. My eyes fly open and I look to the door. Standing there is Sister Anne.

Rebecca turns sharply to see what I am looking at. She sits up, forgetting all about the vibrating toy lodge deep inside my pussy.

"Oh my God. Sister. We were...I mean, we didn't...I shouldn't...Oh god," she says.

"No, you shouldn't," scolds Sister Anne, moving forward and closing the door. "You should never leave a vibrator unattended inside a wet pussy like that!"

We both stare at her, stunned. Rebecca moves away from me as Sister Anne approaches. The nun sits on the bed beside me and moves her hand toward my pussy. She takes the vibrator and begins to thrust it again. Motioning toward Rebecca, they begin to kiss. As the sister pumps my pussy, Rebecca undresses her slowly. Her soft, white breasts are exposed from inside her habbit and Rebecca leans down to take a nipple into her mouth. 

Sister Anne slowly pushes Rebecca away and pulls the vibrator from my pussy. I whimper as I feel the tip pop from my tight opening. Sister Anne then moves to Rebecca and guides her to lay beside me. She spreads Rebecca's legs apart and begins to stroke her clit with the toy. Rebecca's hands move to my pussy and begin to play. I reach across and fondle Rebecca's breasts. Soon, I can see Sister Anne thrusting the dildo into Rebecca's pussy

Then Sister Anne pulls the vibrator from Rebecca's pussy and thrusts it into mine. She pulls it out, and jams it back into Rebecca. She does this, over and over, slamming the vibrator into one pussy and then the next. My hand has found Rebecca's clit and I am caressing it as she does the same to mine. Sister Anne is kneeling in front of us, her breasts swaying as she moves back and forth between our pussies. My pussy. Rebecca's pussy. Mine again. My climax is building rapidly. I can feel Rebecca nearing orgasm as well. 

"Cum, you little whores," Sister Anne commands. "Sharing the same dildo, you dirty sluts. Sharing your juices? You like me pounding your pussies, don't you?"

She then thrusts the dildo in and out of me several times. Turning to Rebecca, she pounds her pussy three or four times. While I'm waiting for her to return to me, I am in agony. Then the vibrator is back inside my cunt, slamming in, out, in, out, in, out.

My back arches sharply as Sister Anne tears the dildo out of my cunt and presses it hard to my clit. An orgasm rips through me.

Before my shudders end, she moves the toy over to Rebecca's pussy. I can hear the slurping wetness and the vibrator slides in and out of her. Suddenly she is shuddering. "I'm cumming!" cries Rebecca. "Sister, I'm cumming!"

We lay in silence for a moment, with Sister Anne kneeling over us. Finally, she motions for us to sit up. She lays on the bed and spreads her legs. "Eat my pussy, Rebecca," she commands. 

Rebecca doesn't hesitate, but moves forward and begins to suck noisily on Sister Anne's pussy. I watch quietly, amazed at the vision before me. Rebecca's tongue is sliding over the nun's clit, flicking it and nuzzling it. She slips her finger into the glistening hole, gently moving it in and out.

"Come here, Angela," the sister says to me. "Sit on my face."

Puzzled, I stand on the bed over Sister Anne's head, then kneel down with my pussy over her face. Suddenly Sister Anne's tongue is probing my clit. Her hands move around and begin squeezing my ass. I can still hear Rebecca's sloppy ministrations behind me as I begin to grind my pussy over Sister Anne's mouth. Her tongue is now inside me and her nose is nudging my clit. I am so near another orgasm. 

But I quickly pull myself off of Sister Anne's face, turn around to face Rebecca, then lower my pussy back to the nun's waiting mouth. My breasts into her stomach as I watch Rebecca eat the sister's cunt. I reach forward and pull Sister Anne's knees back, further opening her to Rebecca. Rebecca reaches for the dildo and suddenly thrusts it deep inside the nun's pussy. 

Sister Anne moans in pleasure, the sound muffled in my wet folds. I watch as the humming toy slides in and out, in and out. Rebecca picks up the pace and Sister Anne responds by quickening the pace of her tongue inside my pussy. I move my fingers down and begin to play with Sister Anne's clit, fondling it and pressing it deeply. Rebecca leans forward and we begin to kiss. Occasionally we break the kiss and Rebecca sucks the nun's clit deep into her mouth. I can taste Sister's juices on Rebecca's mouth, feel them on my fingers. Rebecca begins to fondle herself with her free hand, obviously wanting to cum with Sister Anne and I. Her hips are thrusting in time to her ministrations over the nun. I can hear her fingers, sloppy inside her own pussy.

Our breathing is ragged and our bodies are gyrating to each other's attentions.

Quickly, Sister Anne slips her tongue out of my pussy and pulls my whole clit tightly into her mouth. I instantly cum, gushing hot fluid over Sister Anne's face and neck. Then Sister Anne is grunting in orgasm and I can feel her body convulsing beneath me as Rebecca gives a few more thrusts of the dildo.

As she pulls the vibrator out of Sister Anne's pussy, she lays back and slams it into her own. With a few rapid thrusts, she too is cumming wildly, spraying us with a hot spurt of fluid.

Almost shyly, Rebecca pulls the dildo out of her pussy and looks up at Sister Anne. The nun holds her hand out and Rebecca places the toy into it. 

"I'll be keeping this," says Sister Anne as she stands. She begins to dress herself, throwing occasional glances at the two of us, who have now cuddled again under the blankets.

"Don't sleep in too late, or you'll miss mass," she says briskly, then leaves the room.

Rebecca and I can only stare at the door as it closes. 



Carnal Knowledge Ch. 04



Thank you, dear readers, for the votes, favs, and comments! 

Much love, 

Emmeline

*****

Was this real? Eliza stared up into the arrogant face of Lord Rockdale and wondered how exactly her life had veered off course into a strange world where nothing made sense. Like a wooden toy tossed into a river with a swift and swirling current, she felt herself careening out of control. Tossed to and fro with nothing to hold on to, nothing to save her from certain destruction.

"Release my arm, you're hurting me," she said quietly though rising fury seethed through her veins.

The earl let go and stepped back.

"I beg your par-," he began.

Eliza brought her arm up and viciously slapped him across the face with all her strength. A savage satisfaction filled her as he recoiled and took another step backward.

She ignored the anger ignited in his own countenance and pointed her finger at him. "I will be your whore," she said scornfully. "If you must take pleasure in my debasement, then so be it. I will sacrifice myself for the sake of my family."

His eyes glittered with a dangerous light. "You should tread carefully, Miss Lockhart, lest you find yourself learning the hardest lessons first."

Angrily, she dashed away a tear. "What does it matter? You will do to me as you will. I have no say. Does it make you feel big and lofty to bring me to heel? Someone smaller and weaker than you? Let me tell you something, Lord Rockdale, you may be able to make my physical body respond to your advances, but you will NEVER touch my heart or my mind."

"Silly girl, don't you realize the only parts I'm interested in are your big tits and the tight holes you have to stick my cock into."

Eliza flinched at his deliberate crudeness. "You have no honor," she hissed. "How can you possibly think it acceptable to treat a lady this way?"

"Exactly when did I give you the impression I care a whit what you think? All I require is that you spread your legs or bend over when I desire it so." He lifted an eyebrow, his face an arrogant, cool mask. 

"Y-you really are a horrible, beastly man! Is that all the value a woman has in your eyes?"

He waved a hand as if dismissing her and turned away. "This grows tiresome," he said coldly, tucking his shirt into his trousers. "Perhaps I have been mistaken about your desire to care for your family, Miss Lockhart," he said, managing to sound both bored and disinterested. "Consider my offer to bargain with you rescinded. I wish for you to pack your belongings and leave in the morning. Your services will no longer be required at Verity Hall."

Her mouth fell agape at this unexpected pronouncement.

He turned and strode to the chamber door.

One hand on the doorknob, he paused and looked back. For a moment she imagined she saw regret in his expression but quickly as it had appeared, it vanished. "You have a fortnight to remove your relatives from the cottage in Lancashire. Feel free to write to my secretary to settle whatever wages you are owed." 

Despite his disheveled clothing and tousled hair, he was suddenly every inch the Earl of Rockdale. With a mocking half-bow and a quick click of the door, he was gone.

Eliza stood by the bed, frozen in place. A fortnight! Write to his secretary!

She bent at the middle, hands on her knees, struggling to remember how to breathe. The earl might as well have physically punched her in the gut.

Caught up in her self-righteous fury and indignation she had lashed out at Rockdale, not really prepared for the consequences. He had seemed so cold and unfeeling. Did he really have so little regard for her?

Her hands fisted. Of course, he had little regard for her. She was a plaything to him, a toy. Something to be used and discarded. How had he phrased it? Holes to stick his cock into.

Oh, Eliza, you foolish girl, what have you done? Straightening up, she began to pace about the room. The weight of her responsibilities tightened around her neck like a noose from the hangman's rope.

Though unintentional, Eliza realized she had set a course of events into motion that would greatly affect her family's well being. She must cease being a silly child, stop thinking of herself, and start to use the brain she knew she possessed.

Her life had been so sheltered until her father's death. She could see that now. And the reality of her current situation left Eliza with little room to mourn her lost innocence.

It wasn't as if she had many choices. She had no suitors vying for her hand in marriage. And the idea of dragging her family around looking for somewhere to dwell was abhorrent to her. How long would her frail mother last if cast out of their home? And dear sweet Abigail! 

She resumed pacing. So what if she must become the earl's mistress? He would tire of her quickly enough, and then Eliza would own the cottage in Lancashire. And once she owned the cottage, it would be possible to live at home with her family, perhaps teach at the school for young ladies nearby.

Allowing the earl to have his way with her wasn't so horrible, not if she were being completely honest. She certainly could not deny he knew how to wring wonderful sensations out of her body.

The earl might be cruel and unfeeling-of that she had no doubt-but she felt certain he would never physically harm her. Her cheeks burned suddenly at the memory of Rockdale slapping her bare bottom. Well, he would never really harm her.

"I can't allow him to make me leave," she said aloud. But how to change his mind?

The earl must want her badly to have traveled all the way to Lancashire. Had she irrevocably damaged his desire to bed her?

Eliza shook her head determinedly. She would never know if she didn't try. Oh, but now she must humble herself and go to him, ask for him to reconsider.

How she hated the thought of asking the brute for anything! But ask, she must...even beg if need be. If she valued the well-being of her family, then she must fight for them. And sometimes as a woman, one must use the weapons available, even if that meant using her body.

***

Rockdale sprawled in a large armchair in his bedchamber with a glass of whiskey in his hand, clad only in his breeches. He had brusquely rebuffed the sleepy offer of aid from his valet and sent the man to his bed.

Draining the glass, he scowled at his hand, convinced it smelled of HER. The little bitch. 

He tossed the empty glass to the floor and covered his face with his hands. Christ. Why was he allowing himself to get so worked up over a female...a mere servant? She was nothing to him. Hell, he could travel to London and have any number of women-whores, widows, and maidens alike- begging for his attention.

The little mouse from the country was not reacting at all as he had imagined. He was an earl, by God! How on earth had she found the nerve to actually strike him? Did she not realize how much he could punish her if he so chose?

Taming the little shrew did have a certain appeal, he admitted. But it was better for her to leave now. Far better. She was a complication he did not need. The chit simply did not fit with his plans for a moldable sexual pupil. It was foolishness on his part to have attempted such an outlandish idea at any rate, he decided broodingly.

As he contemplated retrieving his glass or simply drinking from the decanter, his chamber door swung open and suddenly, there she stood.

In the dim lighting she might have been an angel standing in the doorway, solemn and almost untouchably lovely. Her bare feet made no sound as she entered and closed the door behind her.

He regarded her sourly. "Come to practice your aim? Shall I have matching handprints for both cheeks?"

She bowed her head, and he waited for her scalding retort. The girl did have spirit, he granted her that. He wished he still had his glass in hand to toast her.

"My lord," she began and halted, biting her lip.

"Go back to your room, Eliza," Rockdale said tiredly. "I do not wish to spar with you again tonight. The hour is late."

"Please, my lord, I must tell you that I regret losing my temper...and the things I said...and striking you. I beg of you, please, do not withdraw your offer because of my thoughtless behavior."

Her expression entreating, she stepped closer. "You say you want to teach me." Her voice grew husky. "I will learn the things you wish me to learn. Please, my lord, do not make me leave."

Deep blue eyes stared at him beseechingly. This was intriguing. The angel had apparently thought better of her rebellion. He eyed her narrowly for a moment, letting his gaze travel slowly down the length of her shapely body.

"Desperate enough to bargain with the devil, darling?" he mocked, reaching over to the table to grasp the whisky decanter. Fuck the glass, he decided.

"I beg you, my lord, please, do not cast out my family."

It would be most unwise to relent. The girl was irksome and far too defiant for his taste. The trouble of it, damn her eyes, was despite all this, he still wanted her...badly. And even though he had already given that pretty pussy a thorough fucking this evening, he wasn't satisfied. 

Ridiculous, he told himself. A grown man should have complete control of his baser urges. But seeing her standing there before him, her pretty face so earnest and contrite, he fought back the dark compulsion to rip away those thin, white garments from her body, force her to the floor, and fuck her every way possible.

Part of him wanted to punish her for her audacity and illogically, his own weakness in desiring her. 

"Well, Miss Lockhart, I must say you do make quite the pretty beggar." He gave her a thin smile. "I possibly could be enticed to reconsider..."

Her brow furrowed. "H-how can I do that, my lord?" 

"Perhaps we should have our first lesson, and I will assess your willingness to convince me. If you're a good girl and please me to my satisfaction, then I will consider your plea for mercy."

He observed closely as her body immediately tensed. Surely this suggestion would send her fleeing from the room. But the young woman stood her ground before him and lifted her chin.

"Very well, my lord."

"How respectful you've become! 'Tis amazing what discovering your place will do." 

He set the decanter down again with a loud clunk. "If you mean to stay here, understand that it will be on my terms. I WILL be your master, Eliza. Justify it with yourself however you like, it matters naught to me. I will not mistreat you, but you will obey me, in whatever I wish. Is that clear?"

The girl trembled slightly, but her jaw was set firmly. "Will you still give me the cottage in Lancashire...after?"

Annoyed, he inclined his head. "I will."

She swallowed hard. "Shall I still be governess to the children?"

"Yes, it suits me to stay here at Verity Hall for now, and this gives you a reason to be here as well."

"What if..." Her eyes dropped to the floor, and she seemed to struggle with the words.

"Yes?" he pressed impatiently.

"What if I become with child?" she whispered shakily.

The question gave him pause. The thought of impregnating the young woman gave him a pulse of sexual excitement but also made him... strangely uneasy. He slowly shook his head. "I do not think that will happen," he said finally. "I lay with my wife for seven years, and she did not conceive."

His mouth twisted and he looked away. "She claimed her need for a child to be the reason she sought sexual partners outside of our union. However, in such case as you do begin increasing, I will of course care for both of you to the best of my ability. Please do not concern yourself on that account."

She took a long, ragged breath and nodded. "Then I agree to your terms, my lord. I shall do as you please."

"Excellent," he purred. "I find your newfound change in demeanor encouraging. Now remove your garments and loosen your hair."

He watched as her mouth opened as if to protest but forestalled her with a lifted finger. "Obey or leave."

Her mouth shut, and she reached back to grasp her braid and tugged the strip of cloth binding the end. The glossy tail loosened with the aid of her fingers, the strands quickly unraveling into wavy streams that flowed past her shoulders.

She paused to glance at him before pulling at the belt to her wrapper. Her lips pursed, she stripped off her night clothing until she stood nude before him.

"Hands down, darling, no covering the good parts." He enjoyed her discomfiture and let the girl stew in silence for several long moments in punishment for her earlier insolence.

His eyes leisurely perused her nakedness, examining the dainty form and lush curves. Perhaps it was his inebriation that caused her skin to appear flawless as poured cream in the low light. And Christ above, those tits! A bit startling on her small frame, lusciously full and up-tilted, they fair begged a man to suckle at those dark-pink nipples.

Rockdale followed the curve of her body to the small waist that flared out into shapely hips then continued down to appraise slim legs, short but finely-made. His heated gaze moved upward to focus on the delightful patch of burnished gold curls between her thighs.

"Now turn around, let me see that arse of yours."

Slowly, she acquiesced. He knew the rosy glow of her skin was not all due to the flickering fire light. 

The earl licked his lips in appreciation; the chit had an arse like a ripe peach. He shifted in his chair, remembering the feel of those firm globes under his hands. Sometime in the near future, he vowed, the girl would be spending some time face down over his lap, those fat little cheeks receiving the flat of his hand.

"Now bend over and grasp that chair in front of you."

He wondered what expression was on her face as her small hands tightened into fists, and she did not budge.

"I shan't tell you again," he told her quietly, allowing a hint of menace to trickle through his words.

Her shoulders drooped and she complied at last, bending from the waist and holding onto the arm of the chair near her.

"Spread your legs a bit...oh, yes, there we go. Perfect. Oh my dear, I find this view of you quite enchanting."

Enchanting, indeed. Rockdale could just make out the pouting, pink lips of her pussy between the parted folds of labia. He wondered if she could still feel the wetness of his seed there in that shadowed cleft. He was tempted to move closer to see if her inner flesh glistened with his semen. His cock, already stirred by her nudity, pulsed at this thought. He imagined ejaculating over that round, smooth arse.

Briefly he pondered drawing out her intimate display, but relented. "All right, stand up and face me."

***

Eliza's face burned scarlet in complete mortification, but she had willingly abandoned her dignity upon entering his bed chamber. She stood grimly in front of the earl, ready for whatever humiliation he might propose next.

He slouched in the large chair as if it was a throne and he a king...or perhaps a pirate, she thought wildly. Barefoot and bare-chested, he seemed uncivilized and dangerous.

He steepled his fingers and regarded her over them. "Now, your first lesson, my dear governess, shall be submission. I will require that you submit to me at all times, without question. Furthermore, whenever I request that you attend to me, you will immediately undress, then come and kneel before me."

Eliza fought to keep the consternation off her face. Surely the earl didn't mean for her to kneel by his chair like a...pet?

"Go ahead, show me," he urged silkily.

Hesitantly she sank to her knees on the thickly carpeted floor.

"Well done, darling. Now straighten that back and thrust those lovely tits out toward me, hands on your knees, chin up."

Eliza gritted her teeth and made the adjustments, feeling embarrassed and foolish.

He pushed up from the chair, looming over her. Stay calm, she told herself.

"Quite nice," he murmured. Rockdale circled slowly around her kneeling form, his scrutiny especially intimidating from her lowered vantage point. He trailed one hand over her hair, caressing lightly before winding his fingers in the strands.

"Remember how you are positioned, this is what I will expect from you. Do you understand?" 

His fist tightened in her hair, almost to the point of pain. Eliza closed her eyes for a moment. She had never considered herself a very proud person, but the act of humbling herself this way, naked and kneeling before this MAN, her employer, was truly debasing. But you asked for him to reconsider, she reminded herself. 

"Yes, my lord, I understand," she answered softly.

He released her hair and stepped back a pace. "At times I may ask for you to present yourself," he continued. "This is the next position you will learn."

Another position, good heavens! Eliza cringed inwardly, wishing with all her might to transport herself out of this room.

"Stay on your knees and bend all the way forward. That's it, darling, keep going. Place your cheek upon the floor; raise that little arse up in the air.

She carried out his command, the position leaving her vulnerable and horribly exposed. She struggled mightily with the urge to jump up and bolt out of the room. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as his feet passed by her head, and he stopped behind her.

A hot hand suddenly slid familiarly over the curve of her bare rump, eliciting a jump and squeak from her in surprise. She craned her neck to see what he was doing.

"Be still," he said curtly and dropped to one knee.

She hissed softly as the groping hand slid between her legs, one finger boldly probing inside.

"You were very naughty tonight, Eliza." His finger slowly penetrated deeper, and she tried not to squirm. "You insulted me and struck me in anger. You even dared to say I have no honor."

"I shouldn't have spoken in anger! I'm sorr-" 

"Shut up," he interrupted and pushed another large finger inside her. "If a man had said this to me, I would call him out for such an offense." The earl spoke softly, but his fingers were not at all gentle as they pumped in and out of her passage.

"I will not tolerate such behavior in the future," he growled.

"My lord," Eliza begged, "if only we could talk this over a moment." Surely, he would understand why she had been so upset!

He removed his fingers, and she sucked in a startled breath as the blunt head of his stiff penis insinuated itself through lips of her inner folds.

"I hadn't intended..." Rockdale shoved his cock all the way inside her roughly, and she cried out from the abrupt invasion. "...to take you again tonight."

He pulled out fully and rammed himself back in. "I was going to take care of you. I had even made plans...but nevermind." He grunted, thrusting harder and deeper. "You had to ruin it, didn't you?"

He slapped her bottom hard, and Eliza yelped at the sudden sting.

"Are you ready to stop fighting me?" he demanded, his fingers bitingly tight on her hips.

"Yes, my lord. I'm sorry, my lord," she babbled, panting as he began to hammer his cock repeatedly into her soft flesh.

Whatever control he had demonstrated thus far seemed to have snapped, and she trembled under the weight of Rockdale's fierce domination. She felt her teeth near rattle in her head under the earl's furious pounding from behind. His lust and anger rolled over her like a swelling tide, dragging her under, demanding her complete surrender.

"Damn right, you're sorry," he muttered. "Perhaps you enjoy being punished? You like a rough fucking from your master?" 

Eliza grabbed handfuls of the carpet, her gasps and moans punctuated by slaps across her buttocks. "No, my lord!" she cried hoarsely.

"You will like it any way I choose to give it to you," he snarled.

Eliza shuddered in her prostrate position. She felt helpless to resist or do anything but accept his demonstration of power over her. And to her shame, despite the roughness of his forced penetration, her inner passage tightened, growing slick and wet around his penis.




Carnal Knowledge Ch. 04



The hard smacks to the cheeks of her arse radiated tingling sensations that resonated between her legs, centering right where his cock plunged inside her like a burning-hot brand of possession. 

Rockdale's breathing was harsh and loud in the quiet room. He shoved hard once more against her bottom before pulling his cock quickly out of her body. His semen spurted in hot jets over her naked, throbbing derrière. 

He stood without another word, and she remained in position on the floor, panting, unsure whether he intended her to stay put. Her body ached for release. She despaired of her own weakness.

Tears welled in her eyes. If Rockdale had wanted to humiliate her, he had certainly succeeded. 

"Get up," he snapped.

She rose to her knees on shaky legs, trying to find the strength to stand in front of him without bursting into tears.

He stalked over to the whisky decanter and drank deep, looking back at her. She swayed unsteadily, and he cursed vilely and came back toward her.

Eliza instinctively shrank back, and he cursed again.

Stooping, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her over to the chair by the fire, sitting down and holding her in his lap despite the stickiness of his seed that covered her bottom.

She began to cry bitterly; the stress of the evening had taken its toll.

He cradled her against his chest and stroked her hair as she sobbed.

"Oh, Eliza," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Whatever am I going to do with you?"

She snuffled wetly into his bare chest as he smoothed her hair back from her face. She shuddered. His kindness was almost more unbearable than his anger.

He leaned her head back and wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumb. She closed her eyes tightly as he gently kissed her cheeks, chin, and finally her lips. His lips glided over hers; his tongue licked over the seam of her mouth, and she opened for him.

The earl kissed her slowly at first then turned his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue rubbing and sliding sinuously against her own.

He broke the kiss to nuzzle her cheek with his lips. She opened her eyes to find him staring hard at her, his expression inscrutable. She squirmed in his arms, and his hold tightened.

"I said earlier I would let you go, but I will not." 

Eliza tried to get up off his lap. She needed to think. He had muddled her head with his rude assault followed by strangely tender kisses.

His arms were like iron bands about her, unyielding.

"You're mine, do you understand, Eliza? Say that you do, because I will not let you leave me, not yet."

Of course she would stay; he had given her no choice. Part of her wanted to rage at him at him that he could force her to serve him sexually but she would never be truly his. But as they stared at one another, his face so close to hers, she could see something almost...vulnerable in the earl's dark eyes. 

Eliza suddenly wondered if perhaps she was not as powerless against him as she had supposed. She lifted her hand and slowly stroked his cheek, feeling the rough, unshaved skin.

His eyes closed, and he leaned into her touch. Rockdale reached up to clasp her hand to his face and kissed her once more. 

He drew back and gripped her chin with his other hand. "I want you to say you are mine. Say it, Eliza."

She bit her lip under his intense stare. The words did not want to come from her lips. "I...um...I am...yours, my lord."

He narrowed his eyes, not satisfied. "Tell me who you belong to."

She tried once again to squirm but he held fast. The arrogant man wasn't going to let her budge until she did as he bade.

"I belong to you, my lord." she responded hesitantly, giving in to him.

Something that sounded very much like a growl came from his mouth. "Who gets to fuck you, Eliza? Who is the only man to fuck you?"

She sighed at his crudeness but wondered if he was remembering his unfaithful wife. "You, my lord, you are the only man that can fuck me."

His eyes flared at her answer, and his hand slid to cover her breast. "Hearing you say "fuck" makes me want to roger you all over again."

His expression became a bit rueful, and she shivered as his fingers grazed her nipple. "I was a bit...rough just now," he said huskily.

She nodded, wondered if this was the closest she would come to an apology from him.

He gave her a quick hard kiss. "You may need to accustom yourself. I can't seem to keep my bloody hands or cock off you."

Grasping her waist, he lifted her up to her feet and they stood. She wondered what the earl was about now as he took her elbow and steered her across the room.

Rockdale's bed chamber was easily twice the size of her own, the furnishings decidedly masculine but luxuriously appointed. The room was dominated by a gigantic bed, its massive wood frame richly carved and hung with dark blue velvet bed hangings.

He pulled her over to one corner of the room enclosed by a large screen. She noticed belatedly there was a large bathtub filled with water.

"It won't be warm anymore, I'm afraid."

She frowned as he tested the water. Did he mean for her to attend to him in his bath?

The earl turned back to her and before she could utter a word, he swept her up off her feet and down into the big tub.

Eliza bit back a squeal. "This water is cold!" she spluttered, her skin erupting in goose flesh.

He chuckled without remorse. "Ah well, perhaps you'll learn the error of your ways."

Biting back the retort that wanted to spring from her lips, she shivered in the water and kept her mouth shut. He took a nearby cloth and cake of soap, lathered the wet cloth and began to gently wash her body.

Enveloped in the water and dim light, the scene took on a dream-like and surreal feel. Her shame and confusion faded by degrees into numbness, and she passively allowed him to run the cloth over her, the soft cloth gliding over her skin. Her eyes drifted closed as he lifted her hair and washed her back in long strokes. She tensed momentarily as the cloth traveled over her stomach and between her legs.

She sighed slightly at the thought of her lost modesty as his fingers guided the cloth into her most private regions. She sat, still unresisting, as he began to rinse her body with handfuls of water. He pressed a kiss to her neck as his wet hands glided over her slick breasts and tightly beaded nipples.

"Beautiful," he whispered almost reverently, and she opened her eyes to see his gaze riveted to her chest.

She looked down, trying to understand what he saw. 

"They are only breasts."

"They are perfect, just like every inch of your body. Any man's fantasy...my fantasy." He looked up at her face, expression serious.

He stood and assisted her up out of the tub. 

Chilled, she shivered and curled her bare toes into the lush pile of the carpet as he took a large length of toweling and began to rub her dry.

"I am not a child," she protested.

"I like taking care of you," he replied, scooping her into his arms once more and deposited her, towel and all, in the large stuffed chair near the fire.

She tucked her feet up and curled up in the chair to watch him pensively. He shucked his breeches and took his own turn in the tub of water, washing quickly. 

Eliza pondered on the earl's obvious attraction to her body. And eyeing his muscular bare chest and arms as he washed, she could admit to a certain admiration of his own male physique.

But surely similarly-formed women were readily available to a peer of the realm such as the earl. And surely ones much more beautiful than Eliza herself. She realized her breasts were larger than strictly fashionable. They had been a bane to her since sprouting proudly at age ten.

She had little knowledge of men, but wistfully she considered if there were such a creature as a man who would appreciate her female charms as well as the person she was inside. Her character, her intellect, her interests, her desires...

Rockdale stepped out of the tub and reached for a towel. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as the rivulets of water sluiced down his big body. He turned away from her momentarily, and her gaze was drawn down to his round, perfectly-formed backside.

Unabashedly nude, he returned and lifted her from the chair. She struggled for a moment to hang on to the towel, but he wrest it away and threw it to the floor. Without warning, he tossed her onto the gigantic bed and she bounced, limbs flailing. He smirked down at her.

The earl picked up a tray on a table beside the bed. It was full of sweet and savory pastries, cheese, fruit, a bottle of wine, and one cup. He sat the tray beside her before climbing onto the bed.

"Now," he began, "this shall be a continuation of your lesson." Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he pulled her into his lap.

Eliza pushed her hair back out of her face and wondered if she would ever become accustomed to sitting naked in a gentleman's lap.

Reaching down, he picked up a segment of orange and offered it against her lips.

"You're going to teach me to eat?" She angled her gaze up doubtfully.

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, sweeting. This is part of your lesson in submission. Now, open those lips of your wide for me."

Sighing a little, she opened her mouth, discovering that she was indeed hungry. Still caught up in a strangely passive daze, she allowed him to feed her tidbits as he wished and when he poured the wine, she let him put the cup to her lips. She drank deeply of the heady, ruby liquid, watching his eyes darken when she licked the droplets off her lips.

He took turns feeding the both of them. Every bite tasted delicious, and she ate and drank hungrily until finally she shook her head when he pressed another piece of a sweet cream pastry to her lips.

"I cannot eat another bite," she confessed.

He popped the pastry into his own mouth and leaned to kiss her. She tasted the cream on his lips. She felt him freeze as her tongue darted out to lap at the sweetness on his mouth.

Eliza blinked woozily; the wine she had gulped made her head feel thick as cotton. She only knew his taste was more potent than the wine. His hands slid up to hold her head as he leaned in to feed on her lips, nibbling and sucking, drawing her lower lip into his mouth. Her arms were somehow around his neck, urging him closer. Her naked breasts pressed against his bare chest, and she found herself wanting to rub against him like a cat.

"You will be the death of me, Miss Lockhart. I may endeavor to get you foxed every night." He pressed one last kiss against her lips before grasping her hips and setting her off his lap. 

She yawned widely as he left her sitting on the bed. He returned with her clothing, and pulling her to stand, he tugged her nightgown over her head. 

"Let's get you back into your own bed, little governess, before you fall asleep," he said, pulling on a black silk banyan and belting it.

She followed Rockdale out of the room and down the darkened hallway toward the area of her bed chamber. Her fervent wish to avoid any observers seemed to be granted, and she hurried for the door once it was in sight. She glanced quickly back at the earl, his face expressionless in the shadows.

He was suddenly close beside her, holding tight to her elbow before she could enter the room.

"Tomorrow," he said softly. "I'm quite looking forward to giving you the second of your lessons." 

He jerked her up against him for a hard, open-mouthed kiss before striding away silently.

One hand pressed to her lips, she slipped quickly inside her chamber and collapsed in a boneless heap on the bed. Her mind was muddled and dull from tiredness, tears, and wine.

"I'm so confused," Eliza whispered to her pillow.

The earl was by turns a monster, a seducer, a comforter, and a tormentor. And at certain times, it was almost as if she could almost glimpse the man inside he tried to mask from the world. Not the arrogant lord, but the man.

Exhausted, she crawled beneath the covers. It doesn't matter what he is, she told herself. Endure what you must then you can go home. Oh God, how she longed to return home.

The earl was bound to release her eventually. A shiver slid down her spine as she remembered the intensity of his expression when he had insisted she was his and his alone. Perhaps she really had made a bargain with the devil.

"I'm not yours," she muttered stubbornly. "I'm my own."

She ignored the little voice whispering in the back of her mind that the devil would not let her go until he had claimed not only her body but her soul as well.



Carnal Knowledge Ch. 05



"Ladies, please line up in an orderly fashion! How many times do I have to ask?" Sister Anne hollers above the noise of 25 giggling girls. "If you expect us to make the most of our day, you will need to follow instructions!"

We are going to the Natural History Museum today to collect information and ides for our term project. The excitement is because we get to leave the school for a day. It's a rare occasion that we are allowed off campus and we all want to make the most of it. I grab Rebecca's hand and pull her into the line. Sister Anne walks past us, clipboard in hand, checking names off the list. Our eyes meet briefly and I see the corner of her mouth pull up in a knowing smile. She catches herself, and moves on. 

"So, maybe we'll meet some guys today," Rebecca whispers in my ear. "I haven't been with a guy in ages. I'm so horny."

I laugh, and whisper back, "I'd love to try it out."

The bus pulls up to the curb and we begin filing in. Rebecca and I take the one seat at the back and settle in. In morning traffic, it will probably take us thirty minutes to get to the museum. As the bus pulls away, Sister Anne stands at the front, to the right of the driver. She's talking about the rules of our outing. 

Suddenly, I am distracted. I feel a warm hand sneaking up my thigh, beneath my skirt. I shift my legs slightly, spreading them to allow access. Everyone else has eyes forward, paying attention to the lecture on good behaviour expected of young women of St. Katherine's Academy. Rebecca's attention is elsewhere. Her index finger is stroking my pussy over my white lace panties. I can feel myself becoming wet as she begins pressing harder. She moves her hand to the edge of the fabric and begins to slip her fingers beneath. My breathing is quickening and I suppress a gasp as her finger flicks against my throbbing clit. The other girls on the bus are oblivious.

Sister Anne is mentioning something about our lunch hour, but her voice is far away as Rebecca slides a finger into my wetness. She is stroking my inner lips, moving my fluid over my clit. My whole body is tingling with excitement at the though of being fingered by Rebecca with my classmates only feet away. Rebecca suddenly thrusts her finger deep inside my pussy. I gasp quietly, moving my hips ever so slightly to the motion of her inside me. Her other hand is caressing my tit over my sweater, pinching my erect nipple. 

The sister has now taken her seat, and the girls around us begin to talk quietly. I can hear the two girls in front of us talking about which exhibits they are interested in. The only thing I am interested in is Rebecca's finger. Her pace has quickened, sliding in and out. Her thumb is pressing my bud rapidly. I am holding my breath, so as not to pant or moan. I look over at Rebecca's face and she gives me a naughty grin. I spread my legs further and she adds a second finger to my dripping pussy. I am getting so close to cumming. I wonder if I can do it quietly. 

Rebecca's fingers are working furiously inside me, when the bus driver suddenly applies the breaks sharply. I cum suddenly, calling out and shaking uncontrollably, but my cries of ecstasy are lost amongst the other girls' screams. 

"Sorry about that ladies!" the driver calls out. "Someone swerved in front of me. Everyone alright?" 

Everyone is fine, and we continue on our way. I look over at Rebecca as she slips her fingers out of my pussy. I shudder slightly. "That was close," she says. "I don't think you could have explained that outburst!" She brings her fingers to her tongue and begins cleaning them off.

Soon we arrive at the museum. We file off the bus and proceed into the lobby. Sister Anne is saying we are free to move about the building, gathering information for our essays, but we must all meet in the lobby at noon for lunch. Rebecca and I begin wandering toward the Egyptian exhibit. 

"That was incredible, what you did to me in the bus," I say quietly to Rebecca, as she jots some notes on her pad. "Thank god nobody noticed."

"It was exhilarating, though, wasn't it?" she giggled. 

We continue further into the exhibit, looking at a display of hieroglyphics. Behind us I can hear a group of people whispering. I glance over my shoulder and see three boys watching us. I smile, and turn back to Rebecca. "Hotties at three o'clock!" I hiss. She casually turns to her right and looks at the boys. I can see her lick her lips and wink at one of them. Turning back toward me, she continues to take notes. I elbow her softly in the side and call her a slut.

As we move through the museum, the boys follow us. I can feel their eyes on me as I take off my sweater and lean over to stuff it into my backpack. I undo the top three buttons of my blouse and pull my hair out of its ponytail. Rebecca grins naughtily. 

During lunch, I can see the boys at a table from the corner of my eye. They're talking, with their heads bent together, glancing over at us frequently. Rebecca smiles at them and waves covertly.

We are finished eating and head to do my research. It's quiet in the neolithic exhibit when we arrive. We stand in front of a display featuring a family of four sitting around a fire, their rawhide shelter behind them. 

"Hey there, girls," I hear a quiet voice behind me. I turn, smiling at the tall guy behind me. He has deep blue eyes and dark hair. He's looking down at me, a mischievous look on his face. "Where are you two from?" 

I look at him through my lashes, and say coyly, "St. Katherine's". I see his friends nudge each other behind him. "Where are you from?" I ask.

"We're from Southend Collegiate. I'm Lucas." 

I can tell these public school boys are beside themselves with lust for us innocent and prissy Catholic school girls. "I'm Angela. Nice to meet you, Lucas. This is my friend, Rebecca."

Rebecca steps forward and grabs hold of one of the other boy's hands. He's got broad shoulders, blond hair, and incredible lips. "And you would be...", she asks, smiling. "Brandon," he answers. The third guy isn't shy, and steps forward. "I'm Sam."

Without a word, Rebecca looks around the exhibit, hops the barrier to the family's display and dashes into the rawhide tent. Brandon isn't far behind. I giggle and follow, pulling Lucas along. Soon, Sam has joined us. The tent is roomy, with various furs strewn about the floor. Rebecca is sitting next to Brandon, holding his hand and trailing her fingers along his arm. Sam is on her other side, his hand resting on her leg. They are whispering back and forth.

"So, do you like going to the all-girls school?" Lucas asks me. 

"It's alright, I guess. There's not much opportunity to get out, though," I reply, shifting closer to him. 

He puts his hand on my thigh and strokes gently. "I bet not." He reaches up with his other hand and tugs on a lock of my hair. "I love the colour of you hair, Angela."

"Angie," I whisper. 

He moves his hand to cup the side of my face, pulling me slightly toward him. My heart is racing. I hesitate slightly, looking into his eyes. He brings his other hand to my face as well, cradling me softly. He leans forward and kisses me gently. His lips are soft and I taste a hint of mint on his breath. I begin to return the kiss, opening my mouth. I feel his tongue lightly touch mine, and I melt. As we kiss more eagerly, I can feel him moving his hands beneath my shirt. He is fondling my tits, squeezing them one at a time. Instinctively, my hands begin to move over his body. They caress his back, moving down lower. I slip a hand under his shirt, feeling the smooth skin of his back. I move them around to the front and can feel the hard muscles of his stomach. 

Lucas breaks our kiss and begins to lay me back on the furs. He is kissing my neck and beginning to unbutton my blouse. I look over at Rebecca, who already has her shirt off. Sam is kissing her, and Brandon is sucking on a tit. My clit throbs heavily as I watch.

Suddenly, there is an overhead page, "Would all St. Katherine's girls please make their way to the lobby. All St. Katherine's girls."

I gasp and sit up, "We have to go," I say quietly. Lucas is heartbroken. 

"Why don't we meet tonight?" Rebecca whispers, looking over at us. I give her a questioning look. "We can sneak out," she explains. My heart skips a beat in excitement. I nod in agreement.

Lucas gives me his address and we agree to meet at seven o'clock. That should give us enough time to eat supper, sneak out during study time, and be back before lights out.

One at a time, we hurry from the tent and make our way out of the exhibit, nonchalant. Rebecca and I hurry toward the lobby, hoping not to arouse suspicion at being tardy. Sister Anne is just starting the check list when we step into line. During the bus ride back to school, Rebecca and I plan tonight's escape. 

****

After supper, all the girls head to the library for evening study. I can see Rebecca in the crowd ahead of me. As we pass the washrooms, she slips inside. Just as the group reaches the library doors, I say to my neighbour, "Oh shoot. I forgot my history text. I'll be right back." She smiles as I dash off. I make my way through the abandoned corridors, heading for the exit. As I pass the science lab, I feel Rebecca take my hand. We hurry along toward the school's west exit. Glancing over our shoulders, we crack the door open and look outside. There is no one at the gate, so we slip outside.

We run around the corner from the school and stop, laughing and panting. "That was too easy!", I exclaim. "We should do this more often!" Making our way down two more blocks, we stop at a bus shelter and wait. Soon, the we are safely inside the bus, heading for the south end of the city. "You're sure you know which stop it is?" I ask Rebecca. She pulls a bus route map from her bag and shows me the circled stop. "Three more to go," she grins.

The bus is pulling away as Rebecca and I make our way up a short hill to Ash Street. Stopping in front of a large colonial house, she asks me if I'm sure. I nod eagerly and start up the walk. Before I can even ring the bell, the door swings open and Lucas is standing in front of us. "I can't believe you actually came!" he exclaims, stepping forward and taking my hand. He leads us into the foyer, where Brandon is standing. 

"Where's Sam?" Rebecca asks.

"He's grounded," Brandon answers. "His loss."

"So," Lucas says with a grin. "You want a tour?" He leads us through the house, and I can see his parents are well off. I ask him where they are. "They're in Italy for a month. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge."

I laugh and take his hand in mine. He takes us through the kitchen to the back staircase and leads us upstairs. We pass a large glistening bathroom, an office, and a frilly girl's bedroom. Lucas notices my gaze and says, "My twin sister, Grace, is staying at a friend's house tonight."

Finally, we arrive in Lucas's bedroom. It's a hundred times the size of my room at the school, with a king size bed and a large desk. Lucas lifts me up and sits me up on the edge of the bed. I look up at him and smile shyly. He leans forward and kisses me once gently. He moves his hands into my hair as he leans in for another kiss. I meet it eagerly. As our tongues intertwine, his hands move to my breasts and he begins to fondle them. My nipples harden under his fingers. My breathing has quickened. I slip my hands under his shirt and stroke his stomach and pecs. He breaks our kiss and pulls his shirt quickly off over his head. His abdomen is an exquisite six pack, his shoulders broad and muscular. I can hardly wait to see the rest of him. 

I lay back on the bed and unbutton my shirt, exposing my white lacy bra. I can feel my nipples pressing against the fabric. Lucas joins me on the bed and we begin to kiss again. His hands are exploring my body, a hand slipping under my bra to caress my breast. He pulls it out and I can feel the cool air on my nipple. He looks down and groans in pleasure. He rolls me over on top of him and I straddle his hips. I can feel a hard bulge and I grind my pussy against it. I pull my shirt off and let it drop. I slowly reach behind me and unclasp my bra. Looking over, I can see Rebecca and Brandon undressing each other as well. Rebecca's tits are bare, her nipples standing erect. Brandon is down to his boxers. 

I turn my attention back to Lucas, letting my bra slide off. He reaches forward and takes a breast in his hand. He pinches my nipple, pulling on it slightly. A tingling sensation shoots through my pussy. He rolls me back over and starts to pull off my skirt. I'm left in my knee-high socks and lace panties. Lucas quickly unzips his pants and pulls them off. He's wearing blue boxers, and there's a large tent in front. Leaning forward, he begins to kiss me again. My hands are wandering over his back, and slip beneath the band of his boxers. I caress his ass as he kisses me deeply. Pushing him on his side, I reach under his shorts and take his cock in my hand. It's hard and hot as I begin to stroke it slowly. His hand is now inside my panties and he is fondling my clit. But the fabric is in the way. I reach down and pull off my sopping panties. He now as full access to my pussy, which he takes advantage of. 

As Lucas is stroking my clit, I look over at Rebecca. Brandon is going down on her, his face buried in her pussy. She is pinching her nipples, her eyes closed, and her hips rocking. My pussy gushes with excitement. Lucas now has two fingers inside me and is sliding them in and out. I find my hand hindered by his boxers, so I sit up and move to take them off. His fingers come out of my pussy, and I take them in my mouth to clean them up. I move down and pull at the elastic of his boxers. As I slide it down, his cock pops out and stands up tall in front of my face. I hurriedly take the shorts off and move my mouth over his dick. Opening my mouth, I take the tip inside and begin to suck. I run my tongue over the top, and underneath. I take more inside, stroking up and down. His hands are on either side of my head, guiding me gently. His breathing is ragged and he's grunting with each stroke. 

In the background, I can hear Rebecca cum loudly. I can feel the bed shaking as her body convulses with pleasure. My pussy is throbbing with longing. But, I keep my attention on Lucas's cock. I use my hands now to gently tease his sack, caressing softly. I continue to move my tongue and lips over his shaft. Then, suddenly I feel fingers inside me. I gasp and Lucas's cock pops out of my mouth. I look behind me and see Brandon grinning wickedly. Looking over I see Rebecca on her hands and knees, crawling toward us. We kiss deeply, and the boys each groan loudly. Then turning to Lucas, she begins to kiss him. 

I return to my ministrations on Lucas's cock as I feel Brandon's fingers sliding in and out of my wet hole. His other hand is fondling my tit. As my mouth moves to the top of Lucas's cock, I see Rebecca's hand take the base and begin to stroke. We move together, stroking and sucking. Wet, slopping noises are coming from my pussy as Brandon slides his fingers in and out. I am getting very close to cumming, and I can sense Lucas is also nearing. I begin to fondle his sac as I suck the tip of his dick strongly. Our breathing is all heightened as we fondle and suck. 

Brandon's fingers are deep inside me when I cum. I can hardly keep my mouth on Lucas's cock as I shudder uncontrollably. This must be more than Lucas can bear as he explodes in my labouring mouth. His cum hits the back of my tongue and I swallow eagerly. His body shakes as he releases spurt after spurt of cream. When there is no more, I release his cock from my mouth and flop forward onto him. 

We all snuggle together, Rebecca, slowly stroking Brandon's cock. He is still very hard, not having climaxed yet. He watches as I reach toward Rebecca and begin stroking her pussy. He's enthralled as my fingers slip inside her waiting wetness. I move my face between her legs and begin to tongue her clit. As I pleasure her, I can hear Brandon's breathing speed. But before he can cum, Rebecca stops and slowly pulls away from me. She leans toward him and says with a nasty grin, "I can't let you waste that cum. You need to be inside me."

Rebecca pushes Brandon onto his back. His cock is so hard, it's laying up on his lower abdomen. She straddles his legs, her pussy poised teasingly above him. "Do you want me?" she asks him. He nods and whispers, "God yes." She picks up his cock and guides it to her opening. Ever so slowly, she begins to lower herself onto him. I watch as inch after inch disappear inside her. I spoon into Lucas, as we watch Rebecca and Brandon begin to fuck. As Rebecca begins to slowly grind on Brandon's cock, Lucas takes my tits in his hands. I can feel his cock, now hard again, pressed into my upper thighs. I open my legs and it slips between my legs. I rock my hips back and forth, his cock sliding between my thigh muscles. I know I'm teasing him.

Rebecca is now riding Brandon's cock with abandon. He's fondling her clit as she slides her pussy up and down. Lucas pulls his cock from between my legs, and begins to turn me on my back. I open my legs for him as he kneels before me. His cock is eagerly standing at the opening to my pussy. He takes his cock in his hand and gently presses the tip into the opening, moistening it. Pulling it out, he strokes it along my inner pussy lips and to my clit, where he grinds it slowly. I watch as he taps my clit with the tip of his cock, and little spasms of pleasure course through my body. 

Looking over, I see Rebecca pull herself off of Brandon's cock and she moves over to me. She takes a nipple in my mouth and begins to suck deeply. Brandon comes around behind her and poises his cock at her opening. I know he's entered her when Rebecca bites gently on my erect nipple. At that moment, Lucas thrusts his cock into my pussy. I can feel myself open for him, taking him all in. Brandon is thrusting in and out of Rebecca's pussy and I can see him fondling her clit. Rebecca's hand moves to my clit as Lucas continues to stroke. My eyes lock with Lucas's, his hands grasping my hips. 

I can feel my orgasm building. Rebecca's lips are sucking hard on my tit, sending little pulsations of pleasure to my pussy. Brandon is grunting with each thrust. And then Lucas is cumming. He thursts deep inside me and holds his cock there as I feel it spasm. After several more strokes, he pulls himself out and moves his face to my pussy. He begins to lap the cum from my gaping lips, thrusting his tongue deep inside. His fingers probe inside of me, stroking me deeply. Rebecca cums loudly, shuddering, as Brandon pounds himself into her. As he begins to climax, I feel myself starting to shake. Lucas sucks deeply on my clit and strokes his fingers inside me as fast as he can. My whole body explodes with pleasure, my hips lifting off the bed. I moan uncontrollably as Rebecca bites my pulsating nipple.

As we all come down from our orgasms, we fall into each other's arms, snuggling and spooning in every direction. One by one we fall asleep. 

****

I awaken to the sound of heavy breathing. I can feel the bed moving slightly beneath me. Struggling to remember where I am, I open my eyes. The room is dim, but there is enough light to see two people fucking beside me. The girl is on top, rocking her pussy over the guy's cock. She is fondling her tits, pulling at her nipples. Rebecca and Brandon aren't in the room, and I see now it is Lucas on the bottom. He has his hands on her hips, almost guiding her movements. Suddenly he moans, "Oh Gracie, that's so fucking hot."

My heart stops. Could that be his sister? 

I watch a while longer. My pussy is throbbing and beginning to soak the sheet underneath me. I slowly move forward and place my hand over Lucas's chest. He looks down and smiles at me, wicked boy. I lean over and we kiss. 




Carnal Knowledge Ch. 05-06



Dear readers, I apologize for the long delay for this newest installment of the story. I do, however, have two chapters for you here instead of only one. I hope you will enjoy! 

Much love, 

Emmeline

*****

Chapter Five

The next afternoon, Eliza ambled with the children outside the manor house. Their destination was one of Eliza's favorite spots on the estate grounds, an area past the formal gardens where a manicured lawn gently sloped down to a large pond. The spring air held a slight chill, but the sun shone brightly and reflected dancing sparkles across the water. 

She attempted to make a game of naming the many birds and plants but eventually abandoned the idea and simply let the children run and play on the open expanse of grass. The shrieks and giggles of the youngsters lightened her heart. They really were sweet children, she reflected. It was a shame they had such little love in their lives.

The grassy lawn beckoned to her invitingly. "Why not?" she murmured and plopped down with only a slight thought of staining her dress. It was brown and serviceable and likely would be none the worse for wear.

Her bonnet ties fluttered gently in the breeze, and simple joy of the moment soothed a little of the ragged edges of her emotions. She lifted her face, deciding that the pleasure of the warm sun on her skin was worth any risk of freckling. 

Anna cried out, and Eliza's head whipped around. She stood, brushing at her skirts as she watched the children run toward an approaching man, his tall form unmistakable.

"Papa!" Nicholas shouted. "Have you come to play with us?"

The earl's eyes rested on Eliza as he came closer, the children attached like limpets to his legs. 

"Play?" he asked, his brow arched. "What of your lessons? 

Nicholas collapsed to the ground in mock agony. "Papa, Miss Lockhart has already told us the names of a thousand plants. If I try to remember any more my head will explode!"

Eliza's lips twitched as Rockdale's own mouth quirked into a smile. 

"Well, then. We cannot have any exploding heads today," the earl said agreeably, causing his offspring to giggle.

Her brows lifted in surprise as the immaculately-attired earl then allowed the children to grab his hands and drag him off to the water's edge. Eliza settled back into her spot in the grass and watched Rockdale and his children skip stones across the water. She shook her head, fearing one of them would tumble into the water but smiled to see the children so happy. The afternoon sun beat down on her bonneted head, and she leaned back on her hands, a little drowsy.

She smothered a yawn with her hand and noticed Rockdale looking back at her, a knowing smirk on his face. Without thinking, Eliza put her tongue out at him, and the smirk turned into a full-fledged grin. He shook a finger at her before turning his attention back to the children, just in time to grasp the seat of Nicholas's trousers as the boy lurched too far forward in his excitement of finding the perfect rock.

Drawing her knees up, Eliza propped her chin atop her hands and studied the enigma that was the Earl of Rockdale. How could this smiling father be the same man who threatened her own family?

She shook her head as if to clear the cobwebs in her brain. Life outside her country village was proving much more complex than she could have ever dreamed.

Eliza considered herself a moral, independent-thinking woman—at least she strove to be. She attended church, was considerate of others, tried to do what was right. But perhaps her character wasn't as spotless has she had thought it was.

In a mere matter of months she had gotten herself ruined and been blackmailed into receiving a carnal education from her employer, the Earl of Rockdale, no less. The most perplexing bit of it all was that no matter how outraged and offended she became at Rockdale's high-handed treatment of her, a part of her found it secretly...stimulating.

Explicit images flashed in her mind, unstoppable. His scalding-hot mouth suckling at her sensitive breasts. The gleam in his eyes as he loomed over her, her thighs spread wide to accommodate his big body. His naked skin pressed intimately against hers as she was compelled to yield to his greater physical power. The sensation of his rock-hard cock stabbing into her soft flesh...

Eliza pressed a gloved hand to her suddenly hot cheek. Like it or not, her senses had been awakened to the excitement of sensual caresses, open-mouthed kisses, and physical intimacies like nothing she could ever have dreamed. 

How on earth can you find any of this behavior exciting...her conscience whispered reproachfully in her mind, and she shivered despite the warm day. No well-bred, self-respecting lady could want more of that sort of thing-especially from an over-bearing, arrogant, dominating scoundrel who masqueraded as a gentleman. A man who was not and would never be her husband.

Lost in thought, Eliza shifted uneasily when Rockdale's shadow fell over her, his tall figure blocking the sunshine. The children had apparently grown bored with skipping stones and were romping about on the lawn. 

"Feeling fatigued, Miss Lockhart?" he queried lightly, dropping down on the grass beside her.

The earl had left a generous distance between their bodies, but still Eliza felt her skin prickle with awareness. She cleared her throat. "A bit, my lord."

"Ahh," he murmured. "Not sleep well?"

She pursed her lips; the bloody man knew exactly why she was so tired. "No, my lord, in fact, I did not rest well at all. I was plagued with terrible nightmares." She shivered dramatically. "They seemed so real!"

His head swiveled around. "How unfortunate."

They both turned to watch the children a short distance away.

"I have heard," the earl continued conversationally, "that a rousing bout of physical...activity during the day can ensure one sleeps soundly at night."

"Is that so? How interesting, my lord. Were you thinking of cricket or perhaps fencing? I've heard that sport is quite popular with gentlemen."

Rockdale snorted. "I must confess I had an altogether different sport in mind, Miss Lockhart."

Eliza's heart began to beat faster, and she resisted the urge to fan herself. Too much sun, she decided.

"Although," he added slowly, "I suppose you could say that I was imagining thrusting my sword into your juicy little..."

"Lord Langley!" Eliza interrupted, calling out to Nicholas. "Stay away from the water's edge, please."

She carefully did not look at the earl as Anna trotted up, holding out her cupped hand.

"I picked you a flower, Miss Lockhart."

"Thank you, dear. It's lovely," Eliza said, accepting the small wildflower with a warm smile and tucking it inside her bonnet over her ear.

Anna nibbled her bottom lip and dug the toe of her shoe into the grass. "Papa?"

Rockdale inclined his head. "Yes?"

"I've never seen you sit on the ground like a regular man before."

"Am I not a regular man?" the earl asked, sounding amused.

"No," said Anna, quite seriously. "You're an earl. Nanny Goodson is forever telling us that you aren't like most other men because you're a noble."

"Well," Rockdale said, "I am an earl, that is true, but I am also a regular man, especially with my family."

Anna hunkered down in front of him. "Papa, may I ask you a question?"

"Yes, of course, darling," he replied.

A furrow appeared between the girl's brows. "Will Nicholas really be the earl someday?"

"Yes, of course, he is my heir." The earl folded his arms as he regarded his daughter with a slightly puzzled expression.

"I don't see why," Anna declared. "I am the oldest! I should be the earl!" She jerked her thumb in the direction of her younger brother, now rolling in the grass. "He says girls cannot be anything good!"

"Lady Anna..." Eliza chided gently.

"Dearest," the earl said, "it is the way of the world for the earldom to pass to the oldest son. I am positive you will be much happier without the weight of that burden on your shoulders." He reached out to tug on her long chestnut-colored braid.

"Some earl he's going to make," she muttered with a dark look toward her sibling. "He can't even buckle his own shoes!"

With a hearty sigh, Anna straightened up and gave her father a quick embrace. "Even if I can't be the earl, Papa, I'm glad you're a regular man sometimes."

She skipped away and squealed as Nicholas sprang up to chase her.

Eliza picked at a loose thread on her shawl. "I was thinking earlier that you should spend more time with your son and daughter. They miss you terribly, you know."

"I take good care of my children," he replied with an edge.

"Of course you do," she said. "But when do you come up to the nursery, read them a story, tuck them into bed at night?"

She sensed rather than saw the frown angled her way. "I wasn't aware you were an authority of raising children, Miss Lockhart. Do you not recall, I breakfasted with them and took them riding not long ago?" He flicked a small insect off his upper arm. "Besides, those things you describe are the work of nursery maids."

Eliza rolled her eyes. "Lord Rockdale, did you know that Lady Anna has a doll named Miss Nettie and shows a great aptitude for the pianoforte? And Lord Langley adores stories of pirates and often has bad dreams at night?"

"Nicholas has bad dreams?" Rockdale sounded surprised.

"Yes," she said softly. "He dreams that you die and leave them alone."

"That's foolishness," the earl returned after a moment.

"It's not foolishness!" Eliza insisted in a loud whisper. "Your children need reassurance and stability from you, especially now that their mother has passed. My lord, surely you can understand why they would be afraid of losing you, too."

Rockdale shifted his position. "Perhaps in the country household in which you were raised, children were unnecessarily coddled."

"I was not coddled! I was loved!"

"It seems to me you would have benefited more from having a father who spent less time spoiling you and more time making sure his family's finances were secure."

Stung, Eliza's head reared up, and she glared at him. "My father was a wonderful man! He just...he never expected to die so soon."

"I'm sure he didn't, but from what I gather from Sir Harry, he had no head for managing the money he inherited and spent frivolously."

She stared out across the water for a moment. "It's true," she murmured finally. "We were up to our ears in debt. But I always knew my father loved me dearly, and I wouldn't trade the time spent with him for anything."

"He should have provided for you and your family. Love does not put food in one's mouth."

The irritating man's nerve had no bounds! "What do you know of love?" she asked disparagingly. "Or of putting food in anyone's mouth? You're an earl! You have pots of money!"

"I love my children." Rockdale's voice was icy. "But you are correct, I have no desire to waste my time on chasing the foolish concept of love," he scoffed. "People speak of love as if it were some ridiculous elixir to solve life's ailments. What a load of utter shit."

The earl sat up straighter. "My parents died of illness when I was five years of age, and I was sent to live with my grandfather, the former earl. His idea of raising children entailed frequent beatings and daily lectures on how a future earl should conduct himself. Then, when I was old enough, I was sent away to school. So no, Miss Lockhart, I don't think coddling a necessary part of child rearing." 

"You were beaten at five years old?" she asked, stricken.

"What he did instill in me was the knowledge of how to manage the earldom without bankrupting it, how to make smart investments, and how to use my connections to my advantage. That knowledge is far more useful than any amount of spoiling." 

Eliza stared at his stony profile. "So you're saying that all those other..." She waved her hand around. "...matters are more important than spending time with your children?"

"I did not say that," he said through what sounded like gritted teeth.

"One day, my lord, perhaps you'll come to understand that love is far more valuable than money." She sniffed and lifted her chin.

"Tell me, please, is love keeping your family under a dry roof?" he asked sardonically.

"Actually, my lord, it is. It is my love for them that has compelled me to enter this foolish bargain with you!" She stood up and shook her skirts out with a snap.

Eliza turned away from him, calling out to her charges. "Let us head inside for refreshments!" 

The children were off and running for the house, and Eliza picked up her skirts and followed them at a brisk pace. She was very aware the earl was quickly up and behind her.

"I was not finished speaking to you," the earl growled, his large form closing the distance.

She cast a quick glance behind her as he stalked toward her, glowering. "Don't you have some money-making things to do?"

"You do realize at some point today I'm going to have my hands on you," Rockdale said grimly. "And there will be no running away."

Eliza did not look back but swallowed hard and immediately regretted baiting him.

***

Annoyed and not a little disgruntled, Rockdale jerked his hat from his head as he entered the house. Eliza and the children disappeared at once up the stairs, but he did not follow. He intended to order some tea in his study - away from any infuriating governesses. Reluctantly he paused, hearing his housekeeper's voice raised in ire.

"I tell you, Simpson, it isn't proper!"

"What isn't proper?" Rockdale asked, frowning as he approached his butler and housekeeper in the main hall.

Simpson bowed. "My lord. I had just given the housekeeper your instructions on moving the governess' room. She...is concerned."

"Something amiss, Mrs. Biddleton?" The earl regarded her with a raised eyebrow.

"N-n-no, my lord," she stammered. "I am merely troubled that Miss Lockhart's room is somehow unsatisfactory."

"Yes, there is a problem," the earl returned coldly. "The governess has informed me her chamber is drafty. Perhaps the window needs repair."

"It isn't draft—"she started indignantly then stopped herself with a huff. "Simpson says you've requested she be moved to the Rose room, my lord. That's in the family area!"

"I am familiar with my own house." He stared down his nose at her. "Last I knew there are no family members in that room or any of the rooms except mine."

"But, my lord, surely—"

"See to it," Rockdale said flatly. "Immediately." He turned his back on the pair, irked at having to explain his wishes to servants. Christ. He was not in the mood for this nonsense.

The earl strode to the sanctuary of his study and yanked the bell pull perhaps a little harder than strictly necessary. He brusquely ordered refreshments from the summoned maid, who curtsied in terror and scampered away as quickly as possible.

Rockdale settled behind his desk and brooded. "Love is far more valuable than money," he muttered in falsetto, mimicking Miss Lockhart's voice and lofty tone.

Irritating chit. Who the devil was she to lecture him on love and duty? As if she was some great authority of the subject.

The earl absently tapped his fingers on his desk and found himself wondering if his outspoken governess had ever been in love with a man. He rather doubted it, since Sir Harry had told him she was known for being shy and unsocial.

"Shy, my arse," he grumbled.

He considered the idea of the girl marrying some poor, unsuspecting chap one day. He frowned; the thought nagged at him.

Would she marry? Most females aspired to do so. He expected she would be no different from the rest. The girl was no longer in possession of her maidenhead, thanks to him, but that wouldn't necessarily be a hindrance. Those big tits of hers could make a man forgive any number of sins, he mused darkly.

Rockdale accepted his tea and sandwiches with a curt nod when they arrived. He ate sitting at his desk, but paused mid-sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. Had he loved his wife, Isabelle? He had tried to, he supposed, and thought back to the start of his ill-fated marriage.

Even back then, he had been a rogue, the earl acknowledged. But despite his wicked reputation, his newly acquired title had opened both the ton's doors and ladies' legs wide. He had been restless and hungry, but for just what he couldn't have said; it certainly had not been a wife.

Miss Isabelle Thorne was the youngest daughter of a viscount and had been proclaimed the greatest beauty of her coming-out season. Auburn-haired and willowy, there had been a certain spark to her that drew eyes, both male and female. She seemed to always be at the center of attention, he remembered. A diamond of the first water the beau monde had declared, and Isabelle had been well aware of her own charms.

Rockdale had seen the young lady for the first time at the Wyndhams' ball. Even to his cynical gaze, she had been a vision to behold, gowned in silver and white. Her dark-red hair was upswept and sprinkled with small, glittering diamonds, the vivid color a striking contrast to her ensemble. Young gentlemen clustered around her like bees drawn to the sweetest nectar.

But not Rockdale. He had observed the scene from a distance with a mocking shake of his head before turning away to seek out a certain widow who had slipped a very naughty note into his pocket.

But Isabelle had noticed him, of course. Women generally did. He was not vain, but accepted the plethora of female attention that followed him as a tool to be used when needed.

As the season progressed and the succession of parties and social gatherings continued, he would frequently look up to discover Isabelle's eyes upon him. She could always seem to seek him out, no matter how mad the crush. She would flutter her fan in that ridiculous fashion women used, and smile coquettishly.

Rockdale had ignored her. Vain young girls did not interest him.

But finally, Miss Thorne used a connection through his aunt to finagle an introduction to him. He had bowed politely over her hand, inspected the slight bosom quite nicely revealed in the deep neckline of her pale-green silk gown, and simply walked away to the card room.

His closest friend and fellow rogue, Miles Barlow, had nearly choked with laughter. "Gads, Rockdale, you should have seen the chit's face when you walked away."

Miles' face turned speculative. "She's got a demmed nice mouth, that one. She's so eager for your attention that I wager you could get her alone somewhere and have your cock in that pretty mouth with barely any...persuasion."

The earl scoffed at his friend. "No, thank you. Gently-bred virgins are not worth the time and effort for a man not looking to get leg shackled."

But despite his professed disinterest in Miss Thorne, Rockdale had found it rather amusing to see the young slip of a girl set her cap for him. From what he heard about town, she had the adoration of countless gentlemen, poems written to her exquisite beauty, flowers delivered by the score, and yet the foolish girl wanted what she could not have.

Unfortunately, Rockdale realized later he had underestimated Isabelle's desire to get her way. He, who was used to being the predator, had fallen neatly into her trap.

It had been at the Feversham-Renwick rout that he had deigned, quite on impulse, to dance with her for the last waltz of the evening. Miss Thorne had not looked his way all evening, not once. He did not care at all, of course, but perversely decided he must do something that would cast her off-balance.

This dance set had already been promised early on in the evening, he knew quite well. The poor gent waiting to claim his coveted dance with the fair Isabelle had stood by, mouth agape and bow interrupted, as Rockdale swooped in and escorted the lady onto the floor.




Carnal Knowledge Ch. 05-06



They had circled the room, swirling in a flurry of turns and flaring skirts. He stared over her shoulder with a bored expression, expecting to find her silly and annoying.

Glancing down, he met her calculating gaze, far more intelligent than he had expected. 

"May I ask you a question, Lord Rockdale?" she asked.

"If you must," he drawled.

Isabelle leaned in closer. "My curiosity has been aroused, my lord," she confided, with a sweet smile that flashed her dimples. "You must tell me...is your cock as big as the naughty ladies whisper it is?"

He had stumbled, nearly causing them to crash into a nearby circling couple.

When he had finally recovered and found the steps once more, her knowing smile had spread slow and sly across her face.

But it wasn't until Lord and Lady Lisle's house party in the country near the end of the season that Rockdale had truly stumbled.

He sat in Lisle's library, drinking alone late one night. Isabelle, also a guest at the party, had slipped inside the double wood doors.

The click of the door had seemed loud in the silent room. She said not a word as she unbelted her midnight-blue velvet dressing gown and let it fall.

As it turned out Miss Thorne had been a young lady of many talents. Completely nude except for a cunning pair of high-heeled slippers, she sashayed across the room, hips swaying in a seductive rhythm that his eyes transmitted to his thumping heart.

His cock rose to attention as she stood before him, one hip cocked, her crimson hair loose and flowing down her back, index finger in her pouting mouth. She slowly drew the finger down, over her full bottom lip, down her neck, down over her softly-rounded tit, circling one pink nipple. His eyes followed as if mesmerized as that finger drew a line down her stomach, and slid into the crease between her legs.

He forced his eyes back to her face, scowling. She smiled slowly, that same sly and knowing smile he remembered from before.

"What game are you playing here, little girl?" he asked gruffly.

Isabelle laid a finger—the one previously between her legs—across his lips. "Don't be grumpy, Rockdale," she soothed with an impish gleam in her eye. "I'm here to make you feel all better."

In an instant, she was astride his lap, her hand seeking out and freeing his stiffening cock from his trousers.

"Oh my," she purred, stroking his shaft up and down. "Those naughty ladies were right! You are a very big boy, aren't you, darling?"

He shuddered as her grip tightened, almost roughly masturbating him until he was gasping and straining against her small hand.

Isabelle paused for a moment, dipping a finger into the shiny fluid leaking from his shaft, spreading the slick moisture over the bulbous head. She lifted the wet finger to her lips, slowly drawing the digit between her lips to suckle at it.

Rockdale struggled to think with the head atop his shoulders. "Miss Thorne, what the bloody hell do think you're doing?" he rasped.

Her eyes stared directly back at him as the finger popped out of her mouth. She smiled again, showing a line of small white teeth. "I'm going to fuck you," she said matter-of-factly, her tongue sliding seductively along her plump bottom lip.

Intending on setting her firmly off his lap, his hands instead curved around her tight little arse as she lifted up and guided his cock into the soft cleft between her parted legs. The snug passage accepted his penetration in a smooth movement as she sank down, impaling herself fully on his aching penis.

"Shit," Rockdale muttered. The girl was wet; he could feel her slickness around his cock, and except to grab her arse, he had not laid a finger on the chit. Her hips began to slowly piston over him with what even his dazed brain recognized as practiced ease.

More than a little drunk, Rockdale gave up the pretense of protest and leaned back to enjoy being so skillfully ridden, the girl's small tits bouncing as her tightly-stretched quim worked up and down his cock.

Her pale eyes glittered in the near darkness, and she rubbed herself boldly between her spread legs. Her gasps and high-pitched moans fueled the feeling of forbidden excitement in the otherwise quiet room.

Rockdale broke out in a sweat. He felt oddly disconcerted and out of control, almost as if this auburn-haired minx had cast some sort of spell upon him. Feeling her intense stare, he glanced up, and his gut twisted at the triumphant expression on her pretty face.

The fog of lust lifted long enough for Rockdale to realize no matter how good her slick cunt felt sheathing his cock, he loathed being the object of any girl's whim. He bared his teeth in an ugly smile and was pleased to see her countenance falter.

The earl reached out, pinched down hard on a soft nipple and twisted.

"Ouch!" she gasped in surprise.

"Don't ever try to manipulate me again," he growled, roughly grabbing hold of her hips and shoving inside harder and deeper.

She squeaked, bowing back. Rockdale leaned forward to catch a bobbing nipple in his mouth and bit down, suckling hard.

"Ow! Oh! Rockdale, stop!" she protested and wiggled as if trying to dislodge his cock and climb off his lap.

Ignoring her, he gripped her arse tighter and continued to thrust upward, determined to ram as much of his long length into her splayed softness as he possibly could.

"Didn't you come here to get fucked?" he demanded mockingly and pushed a hand between her legs to seek out her stiff button. He flicked it hard then pinched down with his thumb and middle finger.

"Owwww!" she hissed, throwing back her head.

He pinched the little nubbin again, and her sheath clamped down on his cock as she began to climax.

"Rockdale!" she cried out loudly.

The intimate clasp of her inner muscles milked his cock and brought his own hard orgasm. Rockdale hissed as he erupted inside her. His heart was racing, and belatedly, he cursed himself for not pulling out of the chit.

They stared at one another for a long awkward moment. She lifted an unsteady hand to stroke his hair, a strangely solemn look on her face.

"I'm sorry, William," she whispered.

He had a moment of puzzlement before the library door burst open, and Isabelle's mother swept in the room, screeching loud enough to wake the household - as he supposed was her intention.

A month later they were married by special license. His countess had been no virgin when she climbed on his cock, but half a dozen witnesses had seen her naked and sobbing before he could get her back into that damn wrapper. Rockdale accepted his fate with grim practicality. In the eyes of society, he had ruined the girl and must pay the price.

Their union had not an easy one. Lord and Lady Rockdale had neither mutual trust nor liking to build upon. Sex continued to be Isabelle's tool. If he complied with her wishes, he was allowed to grace her bedchamber...if not, the door was locked against him.

When his beautiful wife was happy, she had sparkled with life and vivacity. She adored guests, parties, and town life. They often hosted balls, galas, musicales, and masquerades. But to Rockdale, it became all a farce - pretend parts to be played—she, the loving wife, and he, the doting husband. When the guests were gone, and only of the two of them remained, Isabelle's spirit dimmed; she became melancholy. They became strangers once more.

He had acquaintances that were more or less happily wed, but whatever Isabelle seemed to want from him, he had not known how to give.

Caught up in contemplating the specter of his lost wife, it was a moment before Rockdale realized he was no longer alone in his study. Miss Lockhart stood just inside the open door, glaring at him. Judging from the high state of her color and the heaving of her bosom, he deduced she had discovered her change of room.

"I've been informed by a maid that my things have been moved," she said.

"Yes," he answered absently, picking up a letter lying on his desk and pretending it held his attention. "To the Rose room. It's at the end of the family hall. I'm sure you'll find it a welcome change."

Although he did not look up, he could somehow sense the gritting of her teeth.

"Why?" she asked. "Everyone will wonder why!"

He finally raised his eyes from the letter to regard her. "Good heavens, Miss Lockhart. That dress is atrocious. I do believe I would describe the color as dirt-brown."

Her mouth opened then closed. She looked down at her dress and then back up at him.

"I'm sorry if my wardrobe offends you, my lord," she replied tersely. "Regarding my room—"

"I have a seamstress coming tomorrow to see to you and Anna. Hopefully she will be able to get you into some attire that does not look to have come out of the dustbin."

"The dustbin-! My clothing is perfectly acceptable," she said, frowning at him. "You cannot buy me dresses, my lord."

"Of course I can," he said dismissively. He looked down then back up again. "I say, Miss Lockhart, are you counting silently?"

She took a deep breath before answering. "My father always said counting to ten could prevent one from speaking out thoughtlessly in anger."

"Interesting. Does it work?"

"Not today, my lord."

"Ahh, pity." He stroked his chin. "Then it's a good thing we had our lesson in submission last night, isn't it, Miss Lockhart?"

Her eyes seemed to snap sparks at him. "Oh, yes. Really splendid, my lord."

His gaze narrowed at her flippant tone. "What are the children doing at the moment? Surely you did not leave your lessons to come berate me."

"No," she ground out. "They are having their daily lie down time. As you would know if you ever visited the nursery, my lord."

"Excellent," he said. "Please close and lock the door, Miss Lockhart. I find I'm quite in the mood for you to attend to me."

"What! Are you mad?" she hissed with a quick glance over at the open study door. "It's still daytime!"

"My point exactly. I haven't seen your bare tits in good sunlight. I think I must remedy this immediately."

Her mouth opened to speak, no doubt nothing he wished to hear. "Let me put it this way," he continued. "I would find it rather enjoyable to rip that ugly dress from your body and toss it in the fire. However, I dare say, that you, on the other hand, would not find it nearly as lovely an experience."

Her face reddened, and briefly, he wondered if steam would roll from her ears.

"Counting again?" he asked lightly.

"Oooh!" She whirled away in a billow of skirts, marched to the door and quietly closed and locked the door. "Just what do you expect everyone will think with me and you in here alone?" she demanded, stomping back toward him.

"Probably that I'm a lucky bastard."

She blew out a long-suffering sigh. "You truly wish for me to disrobe in here?"

He gestured impatiently. "Yes, yes, now get to it. At this rate, it will be midnight before you get a button unfastened."

She undid three buttons down the front of her high-necked dress and paused, frowning. "Someone could peek in one of these windows and see!"

"For God's sake woman, that damn gardener Willoughby knows better than to peep in any windows." Rockdale rolled his eyes heavenward. Of all the maidens in England to debauch, trust him to pick the most maddening one in the whole country.

Chapter Six

Fuming, Eliza went back to unbuttoning, and the earl buried his head in his hands. She heard him mumbling something bizarre about "wives who wouldn't keep their clothes on and governesses who wouldn't take theirs off."

She sniffed in reproach and laid her perfectly acceptable brown dress over a chair. "It's not proper to be prancing around undressed during the day."

"It's good I don't have anything proper in mind then, isn't it?" he returned snidely.

"I'd like to properly beat you black and blue," she muttered under her breath, unlacing her stays and wiggling out of them.

The earl frowned. "What was that?"

"Nothing." She shoved down her petticoat and drawers, adding them to the pile atop her dress.

"You can leave on your stockings and shoes," he said.

"Thoughtful of you." She jerked her shift over her head and tossed it with the rest. "Do you want my hair down?" she asked crossly, feeling her entire body flush under his intent perusal.

"No, it will not be necessary." He gestured by his side. "If you would be so kind, Miss Lockhart."

Rockdale might have been asking her to pour his tea, and she fought back the strange urge to giggle. With a small huff, she walked over to him with as much dignity as she could muster parading around naked before a peer of the realm. 

Damn this bosom of mine, she cursed, as it seemed to jiggle and bounce far too much for such a short distance. She knelt down near his chair, positioning herself as he had instructed, back arched and hands on her knees.

The arrogant man stared down at her silently for a few moments, nodded in apparent satisfaction, then without another word, went to work sorting through some correspondence.

What the devil! Eliza bit back her indignation with difficulty. Why did the blasted man demand she quickly remove her clothing and then do nothing? The big bully. It probably had something to do with the rubbish he had spouted about submission.

She sighed. At least her view out the large windows was enjoyable. The estate gardens were lush and beautifully landscaped, obviously tended by a loving hand. She had a mental picture of Willoughby suddenly popping up from behind a bush to peer at her nakedness through the window.

Lost in thought for moment, she realized the earl had spoken to her.

"Eliza," he said again impatiently. "Stand up." He offered her a hand, and she took it, rising to her feet.

Rockdale moved his chair back a bit from the desk and tugged her hand until she stood between his legs.

"Sit here on my desk in front of me," he said.

She eyed the desk dubiously but allowed him to assist her up on the large wooden desk. She shivered as her bottom made contact with the cold surface. It simply wasn't fair that he should be fully dressed while she was forced to be naked.

He scooted his chair up close in front of her, wicked smile on his face. "My little flower," he murmured, running his hands up her bare legs.

"W-why would you say that?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even and light.

One corner of his mouth turned up. "You still have Anna's wildflower tucked behind your ear."

"Oh? Well, how silly of me," she said, nervously tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. This must be how a lamb felt facing a hungry wolf, she thought and swallowed hard. His intent gaze seemed almost predatory.

He laid a hand on each of her knees. "Time to spread your petals open wide for me, little flower. I want to see all your hidden secrets."

"It's hardly secret now," she muttered but didn't resist as he slowly drew her knees wide apart.

"Now this is something every man should have on his desk," Rockdale said with a wicked smirk, very gently drawing a finger over the sensitive mound between her legs.

His light caresses ignited fiery tingles along her spine, and she squirmed. Why, oh why, did his touch have to affect her this way? He had barely laid his hands upon her and already she felt herself becoming aroused.

"I could lay you back and feast for hours, you know," he said huskily, meeting her uncertain gaze. "Would you like that, Eliza?"

Feast? Her struggled for a moment to understand what he meant, then with a rush, she remembered the way he had used his tongue and mouth between her legs. A streak of heat went straight to her groin. She wet her lips and shifted uneasily.

"You shouldn't say such things!" she said, looking away desperately from the molten heat in his dark eyes.

"Does that mean you wouldn't enjoy it?" he mocked.

Biting her lip, she remained silent and tensed in expectation of his immediate invasion of her intimate areas. However, the earl continued his maddening light strokes, moving on to explore her inner thighs then trailing lower.

"AhhHH!" she squeaked as his fingers discovered a ticklish spot. She had never given a thought to the skin behind her knees, but now, as he gently massaged and prodded with his fingers, the area was suddenly almost unbearable erotic.

Her head fell back as she found herself wishing he would touch her between her legs again, but deeper. Touch her where she was getting so very wet...

Rockdale slid his hands slowly back up over her thighs and upward over her stomach and ribs. His hands found the large mounds of her breasts, covering and fondling, cupping and squeezing the sensitive flesh.

"Are you ready for your second lesson, Miss Lockhart?" he asked.

She found it hard to concentrate as his fingers moved to her nipples, gently pinching and plucking. "What?" she asked breathlessly. "Lesson? Oh, yes, I suppose so."

"I want to teach you some different ways to experience and give sexual pleasure."

Her breathing began to come faster as Rockdale continued to play with her breasts. "D-Different?" she managed to say.

The earl rose up slightly and leaned forward to rub his cheek against the curve of her bosom. Gooseflesh erupted all over her body at the not at all unpleasant rasp of his slightly prickly chin and the gust of his warm breath as he chuckled against her skin.

"There's so much I want to do to you, darling," he murmured. "And teach you." He thumbed over one hard nipple. "Does it feel good to you when I touch your tits like this?"

Her eyes widened. Surely he didn't expect for her to discuss this sort of thing with him! "Well, I—I can't..."

"You can," he replied sternly. "What about this?" His tongue flicked her nipple before drawing the hard tip into his hot mouth and sucking.

"Mmm...," Eliza moaned softly.

Her nipple slid wetly from his mouth, and he laved it with his tongue. He paused in his ministrations and looked up. "Feel good?"

The man was pure evil, she decided shakily. "Yes," she whispered.

He shifted to suckle at the other breast, and her breath caught in her throat as his fingers pinched at her other nipple while he sucked.

He drew back. "Touch your tits for me."

"W-w-what?" she asked, shocked.

He took her hand and laid it over one breast. "Go on," he coaxed.

She desperately wanted to say "no!" or "I can't!" But somehow with his dark eyes compelling her, she squeezed the soft mound.

"Both hands," he said hoarsely.

And she did as he said, holding both her breasts and kneading; her fingers automatically went to her nipples, pulling and pinching softly as he had done.

"Oooh," she moaned breathily, watching intently with half-closed eyes as he fumbled open the fly of his pants, exposing his stiff, ruddy cock.

Rockdale stroked himself roughly, his eyes riveted to her breasts as she continued to play with her tingling nipples.

She gasped as he slid his free hand up her thigh and-finally- in between her legs. A moan burst from her lips as his fingers delved deeper.

"Christ, you're wet," he muttered.

"Yes," she urged him, "yes, please."

His fingers slid through her slick folds, and she bit her lip as his thumb found the spot where she throbbed. Her entire world narrowed down to the clever digit gliding repeatedly over her stiff nubbin. Her embarrassment, her shameful nudity, and her vulnerability were all replaced by a fervent, single-minded desire to find that ultimate peak of pleasure.

It was sinful. She was sinful. She wanted to greedily tear at his clothing until he was naked as she was. She wanted him to push her back on the desk and put his cock inside her in the broad daylight. And heaven help her but she no longer cared who might see.

He stopped suddenly, and she whimpered as he pulled her hand from her breast and pressed it down into the softness of her groin.




Carnal Knowledge Ch. 05-06



"Touch yourself here," he commanded in a low voice.

Eliza shuddered but found the hard bud with her fingers and began to caress herself.

"Rockdale," she whispered as he pushed a finger inside her slick passage, thrusting it in and out.

She vaguely heard the throaty moans and gasps and knew they were hers, but she didn't care. The dual sensation of his finger pushing inside while she stroked herself was so good, so good. Her back arched as she bowed back, bottom lip caught between her teeth. So close...

"Stop," he said abruptly, pulling her hand away and removing his finger.

"Nooo," she whispered, stricken.

"Come here," he commanded, pulling her off the desk. "Kneel."

Dazed, she went to her knees in front of him and found herself facing his engorged cock. Flushed and almost fevered, she pressed her thighs together, trying vainly to assuage the throbbing between her legs.

Rockdale grabbed her hand and pressed it against his hard length. "Touch me," he growled. "I will tell you how to please me."

Eliza wet her lips uncertainly and wrapped her fingers around the large base of his phallus. Picturing what she had seen Sally do to the butler, she stroked Rockdale's shaft up and down.

"That's it," he hissed. "More."

Some strange wanton side of her seemed to take over as she leaned close and slowly licked over the head of his penis. The taste was...unusual. Not bad, but salty and tart. 

She glanced up to see his surprised expression as she licked again, eager to get another taste. He began to pant as she lapped over his hardness with flicks of her tongue then widened her lips to take the broad head into her mouth.

"Oh, shit," he groaned with feeling. "What did...? How did you know— Bloody hell! Just don't stop."

Eliza took more of the earl's thick staff into her mouth, swirling with her tongue as she remembered seeing Sally do. She began to move her lips up and down, continuing to stroke the base of his cock with her hand.

The earl curled a hand around the back of her head as if to prevent her from moving away. Her sex pulsed in response, and she realized with some shock that she found his show of dominance arousing. She felt her core becoming wetter, and she was conscious of an empty ache between her legs that needed to be filled.

"Holy Christ!" Rockdale shoved a hand into her hair, sending hairpins askew and flying. "Touch yourself with your other hand."

She instantly obeyed and moaned around his cock as her fingers once again delved into her cleft.

A few flicks of her middle finger were all it took to send her flying over the edge. She might have reared back to gasp for breath and scream her pleasure, but Rockdale kept a firm grip on her head.

"Do. Not. Stop," he ordered tersely.

She sucked on the big staff experimentally. He groaned and began to thrust upward into her mouth. Considering this to be approval, she continued to suckle the earl's penis in unison with gliding her mouth and hand up and down.

Rockdale seemed completely undone by her ministrations, shuddering and gasping. He stiffened. "Keep sucking me. Going to come in your mouth," he rasped, hand tightening almost painfully in her hair. "Swallow it."

She flinched in surprise as the first spurt gushed hot in her mouth, and instinctively she tried to pull back. Rockdale was having none of it, his fingers kept her head firmly in place, his cock pulsing between her lips.

He groaned. "Yesss... drink it all down."

Her throat worked as she was compelled to swallow repeatedly or choke, the viscous fluid slightly sour as it crossed her tongue.

"Good girl," he muttered, finally releasing his grip upon her hair.

Eliza laid her head on his trouser-clad leg, panting slightly. She squeaked as the earl abruptly reached down and grasped her under the arm, hauling her up.

She blinked, staring into the face of a furious male.

"How the bloody hell did you become so familiar with sucking a man?" One of his hands slid roughly back into her hair, causing the mass to start tumbling down. "What man's cock have you had in your mouth, damn you?" He shook her slightly, jerking her close until they were practically nose to nose.

"Ouch! Stop it, you great looby!" Eliza pushed at his chest. "Let me go!"

"Tell me at once!" he ground out, not loosening his grip.

"I haven't done that before, but I've seen it!"

"Apparently you were observing extremely closely," he growled.

"You weren't complaining a few moments ago, you hypocrite! How dare you!"

His face flushed with anger, and Eliza felt a frisson of fear slither down her spine.

"Miss Lockhart, you have about one minute to explain yourself before I turn you over my knee and express the extent of my displeasure repeatedly and forcefully on the cheeks of your fat arse."

"William! Please, just stop," she pleaded, not realized she had spoken his name for the first time until he froze.

There was a brief moment of silence, and Eliza held her breath as his nostrils flared. His grip finally loosened a bit, and Rockdale hauled her up the remainder of the way into his lap.

"Speak. Now," he ordered.

She took a steadying breath. "I was looking for Simpson to see if any post had come for me. I happened to come across...well, I saw the butler with Sally." Eliza felt her face flush in embarrassment.

"Sally?" the earl said blankly.

"The upstairs maid."

He frowned. "Curly hair, little tits? Runs away if she so much as catches a glimpse of me?"

"Yes, that's her."

"So, let me understand this. You saw the upstairs maid with Simpson's cock in her mouth? That damn rascal."

"Well, she didn't seem to be upset about it." Eliza shrugged uncomfortably.

"How long did you watch?" The earl eyed her speculatively.

Eliza felt her color rise further. "Not long."

"Not long, eh?" Rockdale asked, palming her naked breast. "I think you watched a while, didn't you? You naughty girl."

"No," she said primly, vainly attempting to avoid eye contact.

He leaned down to murmur in her ear. "You're a terrible liar. Did the maid swallow his seed like a good little girl? As you did?"

Eliza glowered at him. "No. He made it go all over..." She made a brief furious gesture toward her chest.

He chuckled, squeezing and fondling the breast he held. "Simpson came on her tits? I heartily approve. I should like to paint your big mounds with my own come. Would you like that?" He bit down on her ear, causing her to nearly jolt off his lap.

"Let me up. I've been away too long from the nursery." She pushed at his chest.

"Give me a nice kiss, and I will consider it."

"Oh, for..." She sighed and leaned over to press her lips against his. "There."

"That was abysmal, Miss Lockhart. Surely you can do better. I will warn you that if you sit on my lap too much longer, you're going to find yourself back on my desk but this time bent over it as I fuck you from behind."

"You, sir, are very vulgar!"

"Yes," he agreed. "I expect you will accustom yourself." He slid his hand behind her neck and leaned down.

"Wait!" she protested. "Are you sure you want to do that after I've had your..." She felt her cheeks pinken once more.

He snorted with amusement. "My cock in that pretty mouth of yours?"

She stiffened. "Well, it hardly seems—"

Rockdale cut her off effectively with an open-mouth kiss and slid his tongue in her mouth.

Eliza was panting again when he finally released her and urged her to standing. He slapped her smartly on the arse, and she yelped in surprise, her head whipping around to glare at him.

"Get your clothes back on," he said with a smirk.

She redressed hurriedly and was attempting to repin her hair into some semblance of order when there was a knock at the study door.

The earl looked her over and nodded as she jabbed the last hairpin in the unruly mass. Hoping her cheeks weren't as flushed as she feared they were, Eliza turned the key quietly to unlock the door and opened it wide.

The man on the other side quickly masked his surprise at the sight of her. "I beg your pardon. Am I interrupting?" he asked, looking past Eliza to the earl, who was reseated back at his desk.

"Not at all," Rockdale said smoothly. "Miss Lockhart and I were just discussing the children's progress in the classroom. Miss Lockhart, have you met my secretary, Mr. Willoughby?"

"No, my lord," she said and frowned slightly. "Willoughby?"

The earl's secretary laughed slightly. "Yes, his lordship's gardener is my father. I'm Willoughby the younger. John Willoughby, to be exact, at your service, miss."

He smiled easily at her, but she sensed a tension about him, perhaps he was embarrassed for her, the poor man.

"A pleasure, sir," she returned with a slight smile of her own.

The secretary was neatly dressed with short, light brown hair. And rather handsome, she couldn't help but notice. Not devastatingly so as Lord Rockdale, but he certainly looked more approachable. His hazel eyes seemed kind as they regarded her warmly.

"I had better make my way back upstairs," Eliza said, glancing back at the earl, who was regarding her with narrowed eyes.

"Yes, you'd better," Rockdale said grimly.

A clatter of noise and voices from the front area of the house caught her attention. The commotion seemed to be coming closer, and Eliza took a couple steps toward the wall. Perhaps she would blend in with the woodwork.

"Good heavens. What now?" Rockdale muttered as he rose and came to stand beside Mr. Willoughby.

The butler appeared in the doorway, looking as harried as Eliza had ever seen him.

"My lord," Simpson said, frowning, "we have unexpected guests. I asked them to wait in the salon, but they insisted on seeing you."

The butler was followed inside the study by a trio of females, an older woman trailed by two young ladies. All three, Eliza noted, were dressed in very smart traveling costumes. Eliza took another step backward, feeling suddenly dowdy in her old brown frock.

"Rockdale!" the older lady exclaimed as she caught sight of the earl. "My dear, dear nephew. I haven't laid eyes on you in an age!"

The earl dutifully kissed the cheek she presented to him. "Lady Pelham. What an...unexpected pleasure," he said, sounding resigned.

Lady Pelham eyed Rockdale with a distinct gleam in her eye. She was a handsome lady, if somewhat stout, Eliza thought, a fact not helped by the many flounces of her dark green carriage dress and pelisse.

"You will remember my daughter, Miss Stanley, I am sure," she said firmly, urging forward a slight girl with a froth of blond ringlets. 

Miss Stanley stepped forward and offered her hand. "Cousin William, tis such a pleasure to see you again," she said, smiling up at Rockdale like he had hung the stars and moon just for her.

Eliza rolled her eyes as the earl bowed over Miss Stanley's gloved hand. The young woman did cut a dashing figure in her pale pink gown; though it appeared to be trimmed in enough tulle to have wrapped clear around London, she thought rather unkindly.

Lady Pelham then gestured to the other girl, a lovely brunette in yellow and lace. "And this young lady is her dear friend, Miss Pratt, the daughter of Baron Wessex, if you recall."

"Of course," he murmured, bowing slightly. "It is my pleasure."

Miss Pratt blushed prettily and curtsied.

"We've been to a house party at Lady Allenby's," Lady Pelham continued. "Tis not a great distance from Verity Hall, and I said to my daughter that we absolutely must do our Christian duty and pay a visit to my dear nephew, Rockdale. Besides, I want to see those sweet children of yours! I'm sure you won't mind accommodating us for a visit."

The older lady patted the earl on the sleeve. "We have so much to catch up on, dear boy. But we're quite exhausted from our travels and must rest before dinner. See to our luggage as well, won't you? I'm assuming we shall dine at eight? Lovely!"

Rockdale blinked. "Ah," he said.

Lady Pelham turned away, herding her charges like baby chicks. "Butler! Get someone to escort us to our rooms. Send up tea and refreshments at once! We are simply famished from our journey."

Eliza had to bite back a smile at the flummoxed expression on Rockdale's face as the ladies followed a glum Simpson out of the room. Lady Pelham's voice carried back as she instructed Simpson on which rooms might accommodate their needs.

"Ye gods," the earl said. "I've been invaded."

Mr. Willoughby winced in sympathy. "So it would seem, my lord."

Eliza turned to make her getaway, thankful at least she would not need to interact with these new guests.

"Miss Lockhart."

The earl's voice froze her in place. She sighed a bit and turned back. "Yes, my lord?"

"Bring the children down with Nanny Goodson a half-hour before dinner so that they may be presented to Lady Pelham. Afterwards Nanny Goodson will return with them to the nursery, and you will join us for dinner."

Dismayed, Eliza stared back at him, wanting to demand why he would ask this of her.

Rockdale nodded. "And you will join us as well, Mr. Willoughby, I trust."

"Of course, my lord."

Eliza turned once again to leave, her teeth clenched in ire.

"Oh, and Miss Lockhart," Rockdale drawled, "Please do endeavor to change that horrid dress before dinner."



Carnal Knowledge Ch. 05



"Who's this?" the girl asks, touching my hair. 

I pull away from Lucas and turn to her. "I'm Angie," I say softly. 

"I'm Grace. Lucas's twin," she tells me.

I look back at Lucas, who is eyeing me. "Do you know how wrong and kinky that is?" I say and smile devilishly. "You're fucking your own sister. You've got your cock buried deep inside her pussy." 

"We've been fucking ever since our eighteenth birthday last month. We just couldn't contain ourselves anymore," Grace tells me, picking up the pace of her fucking.

I slowly move my hand toward her pussy, looking up at her for approval. She licks her lips and closes her eyes. I take that as an invitation. I begin to fondle her clit as she rides up and down on her brother's cock. My fingers move along her pussy lips and I can feel her stretching to accommodate his width. I can feel his hardness as he moves in and out of her hole. There is a hot wetness and an intoxicating smell. I rub her clit hard as she thrusts. I can tell she is close. Her hand closes over mine as she helps me fondle her. Her breath suddenly catches in her throat and she begins to shudder with an orgasm. Fluid gushes out around Lucas's cock. I take my hand away as Grace pulls herself off. I watch as his cock is left standing tall, glistening with her cum. 

Immediately, I move forward and take his cock in my mouth. I can taste her on him, sweet and pungent. I feel Grace move behind me and guide me to straddle Lucas's face. He begins to suck on my clit, pulling it into his mouth. He breaks away momentarily to say to Grace, "Put your fingers inside her." Grace slips her fingers quickly inside me. She knows just the place to touch. With Lucas's strong tongue on my clit and Grace's fingers stroking inside, I cum quickly, gushing all over Lucas's face. 

"Let's give you another," he says suddenly, pulling his cock away from my mouth rolling out from under me. Coming from behind me, he slowly slides his cock inside my sensitive pussy, an inch at a time. He begins sliding in and out, very gently. Grace crawls around toward my head and we begin to kiss. She slips herself beneath me, so I am straddling her. She splays her legs open and wraps her ankles behind my knees. I collapse on top of her, our breasts pressed together. I can feel her pussy pressed against mine, as Lucas continues to slide in and out of me. Grace and I kiss, our tongues pressing desperately together. My clit is rubbing against Grace's, and my excitement grows. 

Suddenly, Lucas pulls his cock from my pussy. I whimper in protest. But then I hear Grace moan and I feel Lucas moving again. I break away from Grace's kiss. "Is he inside you?" I ask. She bites her lip and nods. 

Lucas thrusts his cock inside Grace's pussy, with me sandwiched between them. Then, suddenly he's inside my pussy. He thrusts seven or eight times, then pulls out. He's thrusting into Grace again. And he's inside me. And now Grace. Back and forth. My entire body is tingling with pleasure. I can only imagine the sight. 

Now Lucas is thrusting into Grace, hard and fast. I can feel his abdomen pounding against my ass. She is breathing heavily, her hands clamped tightly onto my tits. I grind my pussy into her clit as he thrusts several more times. She begins to scream and shudder. I can feel her entire body climaxing. Now it's my turn, as Lucas enters my gaping pussy again. He is thrusting as fast as he can, and my clit is pressing against Grace. Lucas is breathing heavily, grunting. He jams his cock inside me and cries out, he pulls out, and slams it in again. My orgasm tears through me at that instant, with his cock spurting deep inside me. I cry out uncontrollably in pleasure as my body convulses. He collapses onto us, his cock still buried deep in my pussy. I can feel his cum leaking out around his cock and running between my legs to land on Grace's pussy. 

Slowly, Lucas pulls his cock from my pussy. I feel the head pop out and I shudder softly. He reaches forward and slips a finger in my pussy gently. He gathers some of the cum and rubs it on my clit, as I climax. Again, he slips a finger inside me and pulls out his cum. I can feel him now fondling his sister's pussy with his cum. I can hear the sloppy wetness of him fingering her hole. Grace orgasms again and pulls me into a kiss. 

Finally, we break apart. Lucas spoons up behind me, gently stroking my breasts. I can feel his softening cock pressed up to my ass. Grace spoons into me and I reach over to fondle her. Without caring about the time, I contentedly slip off to sleep.



Carnal Knowledge Ch. 07



Hello, dear readers!

Thank you for following along with my story. I so appreciate your kind words. They mean the world to me! Your comments give me the encouragement to keep going.

Much love, Emmeline :) 

*****

"If she pinches my cheek like last time, I'm going to kick her in the knee," Anna said, tossing her head. The young girl's long tresses had been painstakingly curled into long ringlets and gathered back from her face with a wide ribbon tied into a bow.

Nicholas shook his head. "Won't do any good. Too many skirts in the way." 

"There will be absolutely no kicking or ill manners of any sort with your relatives," Eliza said sternly. "Both of you must be on your best behavior. If not, it could reflect badly on your father."

Though why she should care if anything made Rockdale look bad was a mystery. Eliza smoothed sweaty palms down the front of her skirt.

Nicholas slipped his hand into hers and smiled up at her shyly. "You look pretty, Miss Lockhart," he whispered.

"Thank you, dear," she said, beaming back at him. "You look especially handsome yourself, Lord Langley. And you, Lady Anna," she continued, turning toward the earl's daughter, "look very lovely, even with that snarly frown upon your face."

Anna fixed one narrowed eye on her governess then giggled when her brother attempted a snarly frown of his own.

If only she were outfitted as smartly as the children, she thought ruefully. Her only evening gown was out of fashion, and the once-bright cornflower blue silk had faded to a more washed-out hue. And despite lacing her stays as tightly as she could manage, the bodice fit more snugly than she would have preferred.

The last time she had worn this particular dress had been more than a year ago, and she had paired it then with her mother's lace shawl. But alas, she had no shawl of her own here that would suit the gown. She rather fervently hoped her bosom would stay in place within the low oval neckline that left her shoulders and a great deal of cleavage bare.

Eliza could just imagine reaching for her soup spoon, and a nipple popping out spontaneously from the confines of her neckline.

"That would certainly make for interesting dinner conversation," she said under her breath.

"These shoes hurt my toes," Nicholas grumbled.

"Stop whining," Nanny Goodson admonished, coming to join them at the top of the stairs. "Gentlemen never complain."

"They do if their toes are bleeding," the little boy muttered darkly.

Eliza squeezed his hand. "Chin up, now! Big smiles! Let's make your father proud, shall we?"

And get this over with, she added to herself.

Once downstairs and outside the drawing room where the others were gathered, Eliza took her own advice, lifting her chin and forcing a genial smile.

She urged the children ahead of her into the large room. Nicholas took a nervous step backward, pressing himself against her skirts, and her heart gave a compassionate lurch.

The rumbling of voices and feminine titters halted as Lady Pelham exclaimed, "Oh, look how these little angels have grown! Come to me at once, darlings!"

The children seemed frozen in place. Eliza steeled herself and spoke in a low voice. "Go on, now. Mind your manners."

Anna straightened her spine then stepped forward and dipped into a pretty curtsy. "Good evening, Papa, Auntie, and Cousin Caroline. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Pratt," she chorused sweetly.

A resigned Nicholas moved beside his sister and bowed. "Good evening, everyone."

Lady Pelham clapped her hands in delight. "Precious!"

Eliza's traitorous heart thudded when Rockdale left his lazy stance by Miss Pratt and came over to greet his children. His eyes slid over her, the heavy-lidded gaze almost palpable as a touch.

"Didn't I tell you they were adorable, Lydia?" Miss Stanley asked as she and her friend approached.

"Adorable," Miss Pratt agreed, smiling at the earl. "Lord Rockdale, you do have beautiful children."

Faced with their combined brilliance, Eliza couldn't help but imagine the well-dressed trio could have just stepped out of a London ballroom. Rockdale was even more strikingly handsome in evening attire, a perfect foil for his dark, brooding good looks.  

Lydia Pratt obviously thought so as well, her eyes had barely skimmed over the children before returning to the earl. The young brunette looked sleekly sophisticated in a coral- and cream-stripped brocade evening gown with a dropped, pointed waistline that accentuated her slim curves. And the earl's cousin Caroline was no less lovely in an elegant creamy silk dress embroidered with small, pink roses and trimmed in exquisite blond lace. 

"Do they sing?" Caroline inquired, tilting her head and looking the youngsters over, almost as if she was expecting them to perform tricks.

Eliza bit her lip when Nicholas cast a quick horrified glance back over his shoulder.

"Not tonight, Caro," Rockdale drawled, ruffling Nicholas' hair.

Lady Pelham settled back into a large armchair. "Nicholas, come over here and visit a moment with your Aunt Louisa so that I may see you up close. I declare you are the very image of my dearly-departed Papa!"

Nicholas hunched his shoulders and headed for his great-aunt with all the enthusiasm of a man headed for the gallows.

Miss Pratt tucked her hand inside the earl's elbow. "I'm told I have a pleasing singing voice, my lord. Would you care to hear me sing for you after dinner?"

"Perhaps," the earl said.

He bent forward suddenly, forcing Miss Pratt to release his arm. The lord swung Anna up into his arms, and the startled girl giggled in delight.

Lady Pelham sniffed in disapproval. "My goodness, Rockdale, you'll spoil these children with that coddling."

Rockdale lifted one brow, his eyes meeting Eliza's. She arched her own brow in remembrance of their earlier conversation.

His head bowed to whisper something in his daughter's ear. Anna smiled shyly and nodded. He carried her across the room to the pianoforte.

Eliza followed them slowly, watching as the earl gently lowered Anna down in front of the large instrument.

The young girl took a seat and looked uncertainly over at Eliza, who nodded in encouragement. After a quick deep breath, Anna began to play, stiffly at first then with more confidence as she relaxed.

Eliza smiled at the look of pleased surprise on the earl's face when Anna finished the sprightly tune and launched into a more complicated classical piece.

"Excellent," he murmured to Eliza. "Shall we hire a music tutor for her?"

"I would recommend so," Eliza answered and laughed softly. "She has already reached the limits of my own skills." She gave the earl a quick, measuring look. "I'm surprised you remembered what I said to you earlier about Lady Anna and the pianoforte."

He leaned a bit closer. "Seeing you in that dress you're barely wearing, I'm not sure I can remember my own name."

His words were barely audible, but a red-hot flush enveloped her, from embarrassment or thrill, she couldn't have said. The man's brazenness knew no bounds.

"Perhaps it's merely old age impairing your memory," she replied crisply.

Rockdale's snort turned into a small cough as Anna finished her impromptu performance. She stood and curtsied, face beaming with pleasure as everyone applauded, her father loudest of all.

Nanny Goodson stepped forward, and the children said their good nights to the guests. Eliza sighed after they exited, wishing she could join them.

"Good evening, Miss Lockhart."

She glanced over and smiled, seeing John Willoughby standing to her side. "Good evening, Mr. Willoughby."

He bowed with an appreciative glint in his eye. "May I escort you into the dining room?"

Briefly, she considered what Rockdale would say, and even without looking at him, she felt the weight of his gaze.

Her chin lifted. Her employer could not control her every decision. "Yes, thank you, Mr. Willoughby. That would be lovely."

She accepted his proffered arm and once again noted the younger man's obvious contrast to the earl. He looked almost out of place as she did against the glittering refinement of the others, Eliza mused with a little amusement. His dark woolen suit was not expensive in cut or cloth but suited his understated attractiveness and pleasant demeanor.

An unsmiling Lord Rockdale offered an arm to both his aunt and cousin, and they led the way into the adjoining dining room. Lydia Pratt trailed behind, a small frown marring her lovely features.

"So, tell me, Mr. Willoughby," Eliza said, slanting her gaze his way as they followed the others. "How is it I haven't met you before now?"

"I'm asking myself that same question, Miss Lockhart," he returned with a small smile that held a hint of flirtation. "But I've recently been working from his lordship's townhouse in London, finishing up some business for him there."

"I see," Eliza murmured. "Will you be working here at Verity Hall now?"

"Well, that depends on Lord Rockdale. I go where I am commanded," he said lightly, releasing her to be seated by a footman.

Once at the table, Eliza resolved to remain unnoticed in the background. Shouldn't be too difficult, she told herself, after all, she was only the governess. Thankfully, Mr. Willoughby was seated across from her, his quiet presence somehow reassuring.

Eliza stiffened, seeing the brawny footman named George enter the dining room. Her hand flexed in her lap. Every time she saw the man, it made her uneasy, remembering how he had so vulgarly spoken to her that horrible morning at breakfast.

There seemed to be a ghost of a smirk cross the footman's face when he caught sight of her. She stared back, refusing to give him a reaction. If given the chance, she'd enjoy stabbing the lout in the hand with a dinner fork, or perhaps his more sensitive parts if necessary.

At the head of the table, Rockdale spoke as required with his guests, his expression bored as Lady Pelham's cultured tones dominated the conversation. Glancing up, Eliza found him watching as she brought a spoonful of consommé to her lips. His gaze grew heated when his eyes dipped down to her bosom.

She resisted the urge to drape a napkin over her chest and deliberately turned away to smile brilliantly at Mr. Willoughby.

The other man froze, spoon half-way to his mouth, looking a bit dazzled but smiling back. His hazel eyes seemed to twinkle at her in the candlelight.

"I do have some lovely news to share, Rockdale," Lady Pelham announced. "Caroline has received an offer of marriage from Lord Atherton." She directed a proud smile at Miss Stanley.

Rockdale frowned. "Atherton? The man is old enough to be her grandfather."

"Good heavens, I think you have been living in a hole this past year. " Lady Pelham looked at him in exasperation. "The former Lord Atherton died months ago. The old viscount's son was supposed to inherit, you know, but the poor man got himself killed in a hunting party, so tragic! The title went to a distant cousin..." She paused for a moment. "He is a friend of yours, I believe. I can't imagine how you haven't heard the news."

The earl looked at her blankly. "A friend of mine?"

"Why, yes. Miles Barlow is now Lord Atherton, a viscount!"

Rockdale's expression briefly showed shock before turning stony. "Miles Barlow is no friend of mine," he said coldly.

"Don't be absurd, dear. The two of you used to be quite infamous around town." She tittered. "Have you had a falling out? He is not forthcoming when asked about you, either."

"The man is a blackguard," the earl bit out. "I cannot believe you would consider his offer of marriage to Caroline." He looked accusingly at his cousin. "You would willingly wed this poor excuse for a gentleman?"

Miss Stanley stared back at him in consternation. "But Cousin William, he is a viscount now...like Papa."

"A title does not a good husband make, Caro. For God's sake!" he said.

There was an awkward pause while the next course was served.

"This will be a brilliant match for my daughter," Lady Pelham said finally. "If you have a credible objection to the man, you must explain it to me. Thus far, he has been the epitome of gallant in courting our Caroline."

"Gallant, eh?" Rockdale shook his head. "I have excellent reason why she should refuse his suit, but it is not conversation fit for the dining table," he said tightly.

The ladies all paused.

Eliza sliced a forkful of beef, mind working furiously. Suddenly she remembered a conversation with the earl where he had said something...something about his wife and his best friend. Oh, dear heavens. She chewed and swallowed, her eyes drawn to the grim-faced Rockdale. Her heart turned over imagining what he might be remembering.

"Miss Lockhart, isn't it?"

Eliza's head came up in surprise to find Miss Pratt regarding her intently.

"Yes, though you may call me Eliza if you prefer."

"Eliza, then." Miss Pratt eyed her thoughtfully. "And you must call me Lydia."

Eliza inclined her head in response and brought her napkin up to pat at her mouth.

"I couldn't help but notice how well you seemed to interact with the children. An excellent quality in a governess, I suppose. Do you plan to stay here at Verity Hall for some time?" Lydia queried.

A trickle of awareness trailed down Eliza's spine. She saw something in the forthright gaze of the other young lady that made Eliza wonder if a deeper meaning lurked in the question.

"I do think very highly of the earl's children. They are delightful." Eliza smiled. "However, my position here is regretfully temporary. My mother and younger sister live in Lancashire, and I plan to rejoin them. It is my hope, now that I have acquired some experience, to someday teach at Mrs. Cromby's School for Young Ladies that is located nearby our home."

"How interesting!" Lydia said. "No hopes to snare yourself a husband then?" She regarded Eliza over her raised wine glass before taking a dainty sip.

Eliza felt her cheeks heat and prayed the low lighting hid her discomfiture. "Regrettably, my mother's health is not well. Marriage is not a priority for me right now."

Lydia nodded. "I quite understand. My own mother has been ill for several years." Her eyes shifted to Rockdale, her expression unreadable.

"Quite sensible, Miss Lockhart," Lady Pelham put in, nodding sagely. "You are not at all suitable for a governess."

Eliza blinked and turned to the earl's aunt.

"You're far too pretty, of course," she continued. "No lady with a brain bigger than her eyeball would have you in their house."

"Mother," Caroline protested. "You're embarrassing the poor girl."

Rockdale frowned at his aunt. "I'm very pleased with the work Miss Lockhart has done here. I find her teaching of the children to be exemplary."

The older lady fixed her nephew with a gimlet eye. "Yes, I'm sure. I can see the young lady has an... abundance of attributes," she said dryly and shifted her gaze to Eliza.

Lady Pelham's gaze dipped lower upon her person, and Eliza flushed furiously as understanding flooded her. Had the old bat actually just referenced her bosom at the dining table?

Mr. Willoughby made a choking noise and began coughing, momentarily drawing everyone's attention.

"Pardon me," he said, cleaning his throat. "Must have swallowed wrong."

Eliza tried to finish the remainder of her meal, but her appetite had been lost. Lady Pelham had made it clear she viewed Eliza little better than some sort of harlot pretending to be a governess. And it was true, she thought bitterly. She hadn't been chosen for the position at Verity Hall on the merits of her intellect or education as she had first thought. Sir Harold had arranged for her to become an unwitting sexual slave in the earl's twisted idea of entertainment.

Eliza swallowed hard; the food tasted like ashes in her mouth. Her eyes were drawn to the earl once more. His outer appeal was undeniable, and her body responded to his nearness, like it or not. If only the darkness inside of him could have matched the handsome exterior.

Likely there was something broken inside of him, she brooded. Whether it had been his cold, loveless upbringing or tragic marriage, she could not say. And perhaps he was not completely rotten, but she could not be certain enough good remained in him to waste her sympathy.

Or your heart... a voice in her head forcibly reminded. You would do well to remember that he is a ravisher and a blackmailer.

Eliza stared down at her plate. Something to be dallied with and discarded, that's all she was to Rockdale and Sir Harold. Silently she vowed to never again be a pawn in any man's game.

The conversation had gone on without her, but a question from the earl's cousin caught her attention.

"Will you remarry, Cousin William?" Caroline had asked, looking toward the earl with a gleam in her eyes.

"Never," he answered and downed the rest of his wine.

"Oh, pish," Lady Pelham chided. "You just need to meet the right young lady. Those children need a mother, you know."

"I do not foresee a time that I would ever reenter that lamentable state again. Whatever my children need, I will purchase for them."

"But, Rockdale, surely..." Lady Pelham protested.

The earl held his hand up."Some men are perhaps suited for marriage, but I am not one of them. I already have fine children, an excellent staff to oversee my homes, and plenty of money to buy anything else I desire. Why on earth would I need a wife?"

"Why indeed?" Lydia remarked tightly, her eyes flicking over Eliza with obvious disdain.

No one seemed inclined to venture an answer, and there was silence again as dessert was served.

Caroline cleared her throat. "What about you, Mr. Willoughby?" she said. "Do you wish to marry?"

"I hope to, yes," he answered. "Before my mother died, she and my father had a certain connection...a companionship." He shook his head then ducked it shyly. "It may sound foolish, but I live in hope of finding a lady who will look at me the way my mother looked at my father. As if the entire world could disappear in an instant, but as long as they had one another all would be well."

"How poetic and lovely, Mr. Willoughby!" Caroline said with a dreamy sigh.

Rockdale muttered something under his breath and gestured for more wine.

***

Martha Biddleton stood just outside the dining room doorway, out of sight of those inside. The housekeeper held one fist clenched tightly. It galled her to no end to see that little light-skirted governess eating finely-prepared cuisine in the earl's dining room while conversing with his lordship and his guests like she was someone special. 

The wretched girl had been telling tales to Lord Rockdale making him think that she needed a new, fancier room. A governess in a room meant for family! Shameful, it was. Everyone knew exactly what was going on here. His lordship was like any other man, susceptible to a bitch in heat. Especially a cow-teated hussy like her.

Martha sniffed. And no doubt the chit had enjoyed making the housekeeper appear incompetent. A drafty room, the very idea! As if Martha Biddleton would ever allow anything inferior under her watch at Verity Hall.

Oh, to return to the days before Lady Rockdale had passed, she thought wistfully. That fine lady had known the value of an excellent housekeeper, to be sure.

She grabbed the coat sleeve of her nephew as he came out of the dining room holding a serving platter.

George looked at her in surprise. "What is it? Something wrong?"

"Something needs to be done about her," Mrs. Biddleton said in a low voice.

George looked inside the dining room then back at his aunt, perplexed. "Who? The governess?"

"Keep your voice down, boy," she hissed, leading him away from the room and down the hallway. "Yes, I mean that worthless girl. I want her out of this house."




Carnal Knowledge Ch. 07



Her nephew shook his head. "That's not gonna be easy. The earl's plowing that furrow often, if you know what I mean." He snorted at his own joke then yelped when his aunt cuffed his ear.

"She's been nothing but a thorn in my side since she arrived. My sweet Lady Rockdale is probably rolling in her grave to see such goings on in her house."

George looked doubtful at this but shrugged. "Not much to be done about her."

Martha eyed him speculatively. "The earl won't be so quick to keep her around once he realizes what a slut she is." She nodded, warming to her idea. "You need to seduce the governess. Get her into your bed - one way or another - and leave the rest to me. We'll be sure he gets an eyeful."

"One way or another, eh?" George chuckled then frowned. "This better not cost me my job."

"Just get it done. And quickly."

***

Rockdale strode into the relative sanctuary of his rooms, jerking hard at his tie.

"Allow me, my lord," his valet said, scurrying over to give assistance.

"I'll do it myself," he said brusquely. "Get out."

Between his aunt's incessant jabbering and Mr. Willoughby making doe eyes at HIS governess, Rockdale felt ready to explode. The best way to work off all this irritation was to be balls-deep inside Miss Lockhart. By God, then he'd make sure she forgot anyone else, especially that damn secretary. The man who apparently knew exactly what women wanted to hear.

But not HIS woman, he thought vehemently.

Good God, Rockdale thought incredulously. Did he actually consider the governess his woman? Wasn't she merely a plaything?

He ran a restless hand through his hair. "Mine, either way," he growled. The Earl of Rockdale did not share.

Hadn't he arranged for that damn doctor to ride back and forth from London to Lancashire to treat her mother? And he had purchased that deuced cottage in Lancashire to eventually give to her. She damn well did belong to him, he assured himself. For as long as he wanted her anyway.

Tossing his evening jacket on a chair, the earl threw open the rear doors of his chamber, his thoughts in turmoil. The double doors led to a balcony overlooking the gardens at the back of the house. He stepped outside and paused to gulp in the cool air, gripping the stone railing tightly with both hands.

How on earth had that bastard Miles Barlow inherited Atherton's title? The very thought of it felt like a vicious kick in his stomach. His once closest friend...The one person Rockdale had felt understood him.

Betrayal. The earl's mouth twisted. Never would he forget coming into his wife's bedroom at their London townhouse that afternoon. Not expecting to see her bare ass up in the air as she knelt on the bed. His best friend's cock in her mouth.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the image was imprinted permanently.

"Damn you, Miles. Damn you to hell."

He turned jerkily and continued down the balcony, thankful his guests were all on the other side of the house. The balcony ran almost full-length along the back of the house, giving all the chambers along the family hall shared access through a rear door in each room.

Rockdale paused before the very last door and tried the knob. Locked of course. He pulled the key from his pocket and used it to enter the room.

Christ, he needed her. His gut felt tied up in knots. Urgently his gaze turned toward the bed, hoping to see her there, if not waiting for him, at least ready for bed.

But the covers weren't even turned down. Dumbfounded, he looked around the chamber in vain. The room was empty, and she was nowhere to be found.

He cursed vilely.

And then he waited. First five minutes, then ten. Surely, she would come to bed soon, he reasoned. His mind worked furiously contemplating where she might be.

Impatient, he stood and paced the room. Could she have returned her old room despite his order to move?

Unable to quell the urge, Rockdale stalked out into the darkened hallways until he reached her former room. He pushed the door open and found the chamber empty and dark.

"Bloody hell."

The image of Eliza in the arms of John Willoughby circled in his mind. He imagined those soft lips smiling up at his secretary as she had in the drawing room. How easy it would be for the younger man to tug that excuse for a proper bodice down and expose her luscious full tits.

You're being ridiculous, he told himself.

John Willoughby had taken his leave after dinner. And he knew his secretary normally stayed in a small house in the village with his father when working at Verity Hall.

Lots of empty bedrooms in this house, his mind taunted him.

"Dammit," he muttered and continued to prowl the halls, unsure exactly where he was headed.

He paused, noticing weak light steaming from the partially-opened nursery door. This struck him as odd. The children and nursery maids surely would have been long abed.

Rockdale entered quietly, crossing the empty classroom to the rooms where the children slept. The tension in his chest eased somewhat when he peered inside and saw Eliza, still in her evening dress, sitting in a rocking chair before the fireplace. She held Anna on her lap, the girl's head cradled against her bosom.

He must have made some sound because Eliza's eyes widened in surprise, and her head turned his way.

"Is she ill?" he asked softly, coming closer.

"Yes," Eliza answered, stroking the girl's hair. "Nothing too serious, I don't believe."

Rockdale puzzled over why she would be here. "Surely the nursemaids are well experienced in dealing with this sort of thing?"

Anna opened her eyes without lifting her head and regarded her father solemnly. "I asked for Miss Lockhart, Papa. Please don't make her leave."

"I'm not leaving, darling," the governess assured her, then glared up at Rockdale as if he had suggested such a thing.

"I'm feeling a little better after I threw up in the basin," Anna said. "But my head hurts."

"Just try to rest, dear," Eliza said gently.

One of the nursery maids rose up from her cot in the corner and seeing the earl, gasped and dove back under the covers.

"Did you come to check on me, Papa?" Anna asked drowsily.

A feeling that might have been guilt tugged at his heart. "Of course, sweetheart," he answered.

Nicholas appeared suddenly in the doorway to the adjoining bedroom, his face pale and eyes wide. The little boy took in the scene, and his face crumpled suddenly.

"She's going to die, isn't she?" He gulped and began to cry. "Anna's dying! That's why you're here, Papa!" Large tears streamed down his cheeks.

"I'm not dying," Anna said crossly. "Stop crying, Nicky, you're hurting my head."

Instinct had Rockdale crossing the room to scoop his son up into his arms. His heart turned over looking down into the small tear-stained face.

"Anna is going to be fine," he told his son. "Her stomach just isn't feeling well tonight."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm quite sure. Let's get you back into bed, shall we?"

He tucked Nicholas back into his bed and sat down on the edge. He opened his mouth to instruct his son to go back to sleep but the boy frowned up at him.

"Shhhh, Papa," he whispered and pointed. "She's singing."

Nonplussed, Rockdale closed his mouth and listened. Miss Lockhart's soft voice carried over from the other room as she sang a lullaby to Anna.

It certainly wasn't the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard, he thought unkindly. Maybe even more than little off-key.

Nicholas smiled sleepily and turned over, his thumb going into his mouth.

The feeling he experienced looking down at his son while listening to the governess sing was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was almost...peaceful. He trailed a hand over his son's silky brown hair.

Quite unexpectedly he felt a sudden disgust for himself. Eliza gave love and tenderness to his children so easily, while he could only focus on satisfying his baser urges. And despite the disgust he felt, he knew he would have her again.

You're a monster to defile her this way, the voice inside his head whispered.

Yes, he was, Rockdale thought bleakly. God help him.

She deserved better than this.

Hearing Nanny Goodson's voice, he stood and reentered the adjoining bedroom. The nanny was dressed in her nightclothes, long gray braid over her shoulder. Her head jerked up, obviously startled to see him appear.

"My lord." She acknowledged him with a nod and turned her attention back to Eliza. "I made the lass some weak tea, but the poor lamb has tuckered out. Let's get her into bed."

"Allow me," Rockdale said, coming over and lifting the weight of his sleeping daughter off the governess' lap and placing the girl into bed.

The nanny gently tucked the covers around Anna. "Thank you, Miss Lockhart, for coming when I sent for you." She patted Eliza on the shoulder. "Lady Anna would not settle until you came."

"Of course, I will come anytime," Eliza said. She bent down and pressed a gentle kiss on the sleeping girl's brow.

"Ah," Rockdale said, inexplicably feeling the urge to explain his own presence. "I happened to see a light on in the nursery and investigated. Since all seems well in hand, I will bid you ladies good night."

Nanny Goodson's brow was furrowed but she nodded. "Good night, my lord."

Eliza's face was difficult to read in the low lighting. "Good night, my lord. Thank you for your assistance with the children."

He bowed and left, his teeth gritted. He wanted to pick Eliza up and bodily carry her with him but could hardly do so in front of the nanny.

Conflicted, he forced himself to walk away.

***

After a last check on both sleeping children, Eliza finally went to seek out her own bed. She smothered a huge yawn and rubbed her eyes. The tightly-laced stays were digging into her skin, and she urgently wished to get out of her uncomfortable gown.

Force of habit almost had her going to her former chamber. She couldn't imagine what the earl had been thinking to put her in a room on the family hall. Shaking her head in bemusement, she continued on to her new room, walked inside and froze.

Rockdale sat sprawled upon her big bed, dressed in his black banyan and leaning back against the headboard. His eyes were fixed upon her, watchful and steady.

He looked as tired as she felt, Eliza decided with a sigh.

"I don't what to argue with you," she said, closing the door. "And I do not wish to endure another lesson," she added defiantly.

His mouth twisted at this, but the earl said nothing and rose from the bed.

"I mean it," she said, knowing that it really mattered naught what she said.

"Turn around."

His tone of his voice was rough and brooked no argument. She complied helplessly as he began to first unlace then unpin her gown.

"How the hell did you get into this thing on your own?" he growled, peeling the bodice of the gown off her and letting the skirt puddle on the floor.

"Mary - one of the nursemaids - helped me with the gown," she answered with a tired sigh.

He turned her back around and jerked at the lacing of her stays, cursing when the ties knotted. She moaned a little as the corset finally loosened and came off.

He rubbed at the red marks on her skin. "Good lord, woman. And you tell me you don't need new garments?"

She sniffed and turned her face away, feeling strangely like she was about to cry.

He dropped to one knee, tugging her drawers down and off and removing her slippers and stockings. Standing again, he pulled the pins out of her hair and the heavy mass tumbled around her back and shoulders.

"I can't believe you just threw my hairpins on the floor," she protested.

He shrugged and unbelted his banyan, letting it join the pile of discarded clothing on the floor.

"I really should put away my gown," she fretted.

"Get in the bed."

It was pointless to do anything but listen. Eliza huffed and climbed inside the covers, sinking into the luxuriously soft mattress.

Rockdale extinguished the light and slid in behind her, spooning up against her back.

She felt the press of his hard penis against her bottom and shifted her hips uneasily.

"Be still," his voice rumbled in her ear. His hand briefly palmed her breast before settling around her waist.

His warmth spread over her, enveloping her body in a drowsy peacefulness. She realized he wasn't going to demand more from her.

"William," she murmured sleepily.

"Just go to sleep, Eliza."

She could have sworn she felt the brush of his lips over her hair before she drifted off.

***

Eliza awakened some time later, the weak light of dawn barely reducing the darkness. The fire had gone out, she noted drowsily, but she was warm and cozy under the covers, still intertwined against Rockdale.

She stretched a little, opening her eyes and found herself now facing the earl.

Feeling a bit shy and uncertain, she blinked, disconcerted to find him seemingly wide awake and staring at her intently.

"About bloody time," he muttered and immediately pushed her onto her back.

Eliza shoved unruly hair out of her face as Rockdale swiftly covered her body with his own, pressing her down into the mattress, his knee pushing between her legs. Still half-asleep, she squeaked when her thighs were unceremoniously shoved wide.

His shadowed face held an almost cruel expression looming over her, his fist reaching down to grasp the thickly-rigid cock jutting from his groin.

Her body tensed when he pressed the swollen head against the soft folds he had exposed.

"Rockdale," she panted. "Wait..."

He hooked his hands under her knees and shoved them upward toward her chest. She squirmed ineffectually and soon realized this position gave him complete control.

Her hips arched up off the bed when his cock nudged inside her. She whimpered and pushed against his chest. Rockdale's staff was large, and she was tight; her body hadn't readied for him.

He glared down at her, face fierce and determined. "Relax and let me inside you," he snarled.

"Just give me a moment to—"

"No, you'll take me now."

The broad head slid inside, and she moaned, head tossing on her pillow. He worked his cock back out and jabbed harder, the shaft feeling like a rock-hard spike rudely thrusting inside her sleep-softened body.

"Ouch, damn you," she hissed.

His breath hissed out between his bared teeth when his cock finally sank full-length inside of her.

"Now, that's better," he crooned, a little of the ferociousness seeming to ease from him. He made no attempt to thrust or withdraw, his cock pulsing deep within her, completely filling and stretching her inner sheath.

His hands dove into her hair, anchoring her head while he captured her mouth, kissing her deeply and open-mouthed.

"Yes," he murmured at last against her lips. His hips began to grind against her mons in small thrusts, and she gasped as his cock managed to delve even deeper.

Eliza writhed under his heavy weight, feeling completely overwhelmed by his single-minded early morning invasion.

He released his grip on her knees. "Wrap your legs around me," he rasped.

Biting her lip, she complied. Her hands were still flat against his chest, pushing at him, as if she could possibly budge the large, determined man atop her. He grabbed a wrist in each of his own hands and drew them high above her head.

Expression resolute in the dim light, he held her gaze captive while he began to finally to withdraw his cock and work it back inside her. Each thrust was harder, more emphatic; his hips pistoned in long, firm strokes.

The suave lord from dinner last night had disappeared. There was something almost animalistic about the way he was poised above her, mounting her, claiming her. His eyes and body seemed to be communicating a wordless message that said, I am your master and there's nothing you can do to stop me from taking you."

***

The big sturdy bed shook under the force of his thrusts. Rockdale knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he was frightening her or even hurting her. But stopping was out of the question. His heart galloped in his chest as he continued to rhythmically drive his cock into her tight quim.

He had lain awake for hours, wanting to let her rest - watching her while she slept. He should have been content to hold her close, enjoy the softness of her body without losing his mind.

She had been lovely sleeping, so peaceful. But the entire time, he had been consumed with a growing desperation to be inside her. He didn't understand it, couldn't explain it, even to himself.

He hadn't even given a thought to her pleasure. Hadn't taken time to prepare her for his rough penetration. It wasn't like him to be this out of control, he thought wildly.

His orgasm rushed over him in a powerful surge. He gasped for breath, intense pleasure radiating from his loins, and he groaned long and deep as his balls emptied, pumping his seed inside her womb. He released her hands but felt oddly reluctant to pull his cock from the warmth of her supple body.

His mouth worked, thoughts tumbling madly through his brain. Her wide blue eyes stared up at him, almost dazed, seeming to wait for him to explain himself. He struggled with the want to tell her a thousand things - how beautiful she was sleeping, how much he desired her, and how sparing with her had given some spark back into his dull, lifeless existence. 

But when he opened his mouth what came out instead was, "I will not tolerate you flirting with another man in my house. If you wish to pursue my secretary, you will wait until I am finished with you. If I see his hands on you again, I will toss you and your family out on your arses."

His words were brutish and hurtful, and he wished them back as soon as they spouted from his stupid mouth.

She recoiled what little she could, still pressed down and spread beneath him, and his cock, not at all soft as it should be, still inside her.

"He escorted me into dinner," she said, scowling. "I hardly think that is flirting." She shoved at him. "Get off me, you miserable lout."

"Perhaps you'll be the true love he's longing to find," he mocked, pinning her arms down by her head.

"You're jealous!" she shot back, struggling against him. "Don't you realize you've ruined me for any decent man? Let me go!"

"I don't think you're in any position to demand anything," he said silkily, thrusting himself more firmly inside her.

She went suddenly limp, surprising him.

"Go ahead, then," she said. "Rape me again quickly so that I may get up and go see to your children."

Shame, guilt, and anger wedged in his chest like a giant ball. He wanted to shout at her that it hadn't been rape. At least...not this time. He had just... needed her so badly. And yes, damn it all, he had been jealous of his bloody secretary.

But he couldn't admit it. Forcibly he tamped all the emotion down somewhere deep inside him and climbed off her.

"He seems quite taken with you," Rockdale continued as if she hadn't spoken, padding nude across the room to the basin and pitcher of water. "I'm sure he wouldn't let the matter of your missing maidenhead deter him from marriage." He paused and snorted, pouring water into the basin. "Seems like one of you ought to know what the hell you're doing when he mounts you."

The earl splashed some water on his face and dried it with a towel. "Play your cards right, love, and I figure he'll agree to anything in order to see those fat tits of yours naked," he finished with a leer in her direction.

She struggled out of the covers and jumped to her feet. "Shut your horrible mouth! Every time I think that there could possibly be something good and decent in you, you ruin it!"

"Good and decent in me?" His laugh was long and mocking. "You're not thinking I'll turn into the man of your dreams, are you? Perhaps I'll see the error of my ways and fall in love with you?" He clutched at his chest dramatically.




Carnal Knowledge Ch. 07



He stared at her silently a moment and dropped his hand. Her pretty face had gone pale, and her lower lip trembled.

"I'm a bastard, Eliza," he said quietly. "I want you, and I'm going to use you because I can. I don't care about you or your feelings, so don't try to imagine that I am going to change."

He stooped to pick up his discarded banyan and shoved his arms inside the holes. He took one more look at her face and gritted his teeth, seeing her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Some alien instinct clamored inside his head to gather her into his arms, hold her close, and beg for her forgiveness. He clamped down on it ruthlessly and turned to make his exit.

"I think you're a liar."

The soft words caused him to whip around incredulously. Had she just said what he thought she had?

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

She stood nude before him, her golden hair rioting in messy waves about her face and shoulders, but her chin lifted. And despite her small stature, it was suddenly he who felt small.

"I don't know why you lash out and say these things, knowing they are hurtful. But I'm starting to wonder if perhaps you're doing it purposely to keep me at a distance."

"And why, pray tell, would I do that?" His heart inexplicably began to pound in his chest.

She lifted a hand as if dismissing him and walked away, giving him a nice view of her shapely backside.

Unable to move, he watched when she moved to the basin and began to wash herself. "Why?" he pressed, his voice hoarse, mouth dry as the wet cloth slid over her face and body.

She paused at last and looked back over her shoulder at him. "Because you do care, William," she said simply.

He took an unsteady step backwards and nearly stumbled over a chair.

She had given him her back again, but his eyes met hers in the mirror above the basin.

Rockdale smiled without any humor. "I'm afraid you are quite mistaken." He spun around and departed through the rear door, wishing he could believe his own words.



Carnal Knowledge Ch. 08



Dear readers, thank you so much for your lovely comments and encouragements. I can't tell you how much they mean to me. I hope you will enjoy this new chapter with Rockdale and Eliza.

Much love,

Emmeline

*****

The last thing Rockdale wanted, or expected, to see upon re-entering his bedchamber was Lady Pelham sitting in a large armchair by a cheerily burning fire. She regarded him with one raised eyebrow.

He stared back at her, irritated to feel a flush of unaccustomed embarrassment rise up his neck.

"To what do I owe this unexpected early morning visit?" Rockdale asked, fighting the urge to be sure his banyan was closed properly. If his aunt found an eyeful of a man's cods distasteful then she ought not to be sitting in his bedroom before breakfast. 

Lady Pelham inclined her head, somehow managing to appear regal dressed in a frilly and beribboned white dressing gown covering every inch of skin from chin to floor.

"Your valet was kind enough to get a fire going to dispel the chill in here. I had hoped to converse privately with you this morning, but I see..." She glanced toward the bed, still undisturbed. "You haven't managed to find the bed as yet...your own, at least."

A muscle ticked in Rockdale's jaw. For a moment he entertained the idea of counting to ten as Eliza had recommended.

"What I do in my house is none of your affair," he said, struggling to keep his patience. "I am not a naughty schoolboy to be scolded."

"Perhaps you shouldn't act like one," she retorted. She gestured toward the balcony doors. "Sneaking into your room at dawn? You've been tupping that young governess, I have no doubt! For shame, Rockdale."

Temper ignited in a flame of hot anger in his gut. "You have forced yourself into my home, and now you force yourself into my private chamber...to berate me? I am a grown man and you are not, and have never been, my mother."

Her face leached some of its color, and she turned to face the fire burning in the grate for a few moments. "Though she was ten years my elder, I loved my sister so dearly." The viscountess smiled faintly. "You have your mother's eyes, you know. But none of her endearing personality, I'm sorry to say."

Rockdale folded his arms across his chest and regarded his fingernails. "Shall I get dressed? I'd hate to catch a chill waiting for you to finish."

"Why bother now? I'm sure you've been cavorting in the nude all night."

"I wonder if you're taking your ire out on me, Aunt Louisa. Has Pelham been disciplining the maids with a strap to their bare arses again?"

Lady Pelham's eyes narrowed. "How old is that governess? Seventeen? Eighteen?"

"Miss Lockhart is nineteen, and she is not your concern."

"What are you going to do after you've put a babe in her belly? Are you going to be raising a bastard in your nursery? Or do you plan to cast them to the side when you're finished?"

Rockdale felt the heated flush of irritation drain out of him replaced by an icy fury. "You have overstepped yourself, Lady Pelham."

Her back ramrod straight, his aunt stared at him broodingly for a moment then sighed. "I suppose I have. My dear mama and papa begged that old horse's arse Rockdale, your grandsire, to raise you when your parents died. But the old bastard wouldn't even permit us to see you." She looked down for a moment. "He made you into what he was...arrogant, cold-hearted, and selfish."

She shook a finger at him. "One day you'll regret not treating your only family with more regard. Other than your children, Caroline and I are all you have left."

"Yes, yes, I'm Satan's spawn and I'll die alone, sobbing regretfully into my glass of whisky." Rockdale rubbed at his temples where a headache brewed. "Aunt Louisa, why are you here in my chamber at such an ungodly hour?"

Lady Pelham sniffed. "I want to know why you object to the prospect of Caroline marrying Atherton. The matter is practically settled already."

Despite the early hour, Rockdale found himself wishing for a stout drink. "I discovered the cad in my wife's bed, but I will not relive the event with you," he said tightly.

Her lips pursed then she shrugged. "It's unfortunate, but affairs do happen."

"That may be so, but you can rest assured, I'll be speaking to Pelham about the character of this so-called suitor of his daughter."

"Don't you dare, Rockdale! You're going to ruin this opportunity for Caroline. She deserves to marry well."

"She deserves someone better than the likes of him."

"The beau monde used to say the two of you were scoundrels cut from the same cloth."

"They were right," Rockdale agreed. "And this is why Caro shouldn't marry him."

She stood up, frills and ribbons quivering with indignation. "But he has changed and matured where you have not," she said. "This is not your decision, nephew! I'll thank you to stay out of the matter."

"As you've so kindly stayed out of mine?" he asked caustically. "Damned if I will."

***

"Mademoiselle, you must not move," the seamstress admonished.

"Ouch! Well, stop jabbing me with pins, and I won't," Eliza answered crossly.

The petite dressmaker harrumphed and muttered something uncomplimentary under her breath.

Eliza sighed and tried to remain still—no mean task standing on a wooden box in one's shift while a glaring French woman measured, draped and pinned in a furious flurry of movement.

The afternoon sun streamed in through the large window of Eliza's new bedchamber. The draperies had been shoved wide to accommodate Madame Bissette, who demanded bright lighting to envision her masterpieces.

"I need only two modestly-cut dresses," Eliza informed the milliner. "And dark colors would be best."

"His lordship says you should have many dresses," she countered. "And beautiful undergarments..." She paused her pinning and slanted a sly look upward at Eliza. "I think he must be your paramour, mademoiselle."

Eliza turned her face away, shame and embarrassment heating her cheeks. "Of course, he is not my lover," she lied. "He is simply...generous. I plan to repay him for the expense, of course."

Madame Bissette raised one slim eyebrow. "Men are never generous without reason." 

The dressmaker stepped back and assessed Eliza with a critical eye then shook her head. "Your giant bosoms will ruin my exquisite designs," she said mournfully.

"I don't need exquisite designs," Eliza told her with gritted teeth. "I need serviceable, plain dresses fit for a governess of young children."

Both females looked up, startled, when Rockdale strode unannounced inside the room.

"Do not listen to Miss Lockhart, Madame Bissette. She can choose two dresses of her own preference, and the rest are to be approved or chosen by me."

Still smarting from their parting early that morning, Eliza scowled at him, her arms crossed over her breasts. "You cannot barge into my room while I'm being fitted!"

He opened his mouth to reply, and she stayed him with a finger. "Don't even spout that usual rubbish about it being your house," she said tartly. "Even you must bow to propriety on occasion."

She noticed the dressmaker had frozen, eyes wide, gazing up at Rockdale.

Rockdale regarded Eliza narrowly for a moment, and Madame's eyes grew even wider. 

Suddenly, the earl burst into deep laughter that slithered round Eliza like a feathery caress that raised the fine hairs on her arms. 

He swept into a low, courtly bow. "So sayeth the queen," he intoned.

Eliza sucked in a surprised breath when he swiftly crossed the distance between them, grasped her waist with both hands and drowned her burgeoning protest with his mouth. Hard and demanding at first, the kiss turned coaxing and sweet, jumbling her thoughts.

Her senses seemed to spring to life whenever he touched her, and despite their rapt audience, she felt the languorous tingle of desire between her legs, and her nipples peaked against the thin muslin of her shift as though begging for his caress. She sighed and laid a limp hand against his lapel.

Finally, he lifted his head, and she noted though his wicked smirk was fully in place, his breathing was not quite steady.

Still holding her close, Rockdale murmured, "And to the queen I say—propriety can be damned." He trailed a lazy finger down the curve of her breast.

Grimacing, he released her and lifted his finger to his mouth.  "And he repents in thorns that sleeps in beds of roses,"  he quoted wryly and peered down at the bead of blood on his forefinger.

Annoyed with the quickening of desire still pulsing through her body, Eliza longed to set the cocky bastard down a peg or two.

"Oh, poor man, did you find one of Madame's pins?" she cooed then added with some asperity, "I think you're going to find I have lots of thorns."

A smile spread slow and devilish across his face. "Your thorns won't deter me, darling. Besides, I have one as well, and I can hardly wait to give you a big prick later."

Her mouth snapped shut, and she flushed, glaring at him.

Rockdale chuckled softly. "Remember what I said, Madame—consult with me before you leave today."

"But, of course. It shall be as you say, my lord," the modiste said with a simpering smile.

Rockdale turned back to Eliza. "Our guests wish to have tea al fresco on the garden terrace and take a stroll afterwards around the estate grounds. When you're done here, retrieve the children and join us."

Eliza wanted to snatch the paper of pins away from the dressmaker and plunge a fistful into his chest. "Yes, master," she replied with all the false sweetness she could muster.

Rockdale grinned. "Now, you're getting into the spirit of things, Miss Lockhart! Carry on, ladies. Au revoir, Madame."

Whistling a jaunty tune, he exited the room, leaving an awkward silence in Eliza's chamber.

"Well, bugger me," Madame Bissette remarked at last, staring at Eliza with hard speculation.

"What happened to your French accent?" Eliza asked dryly, trying to regain her composure and scattered wits.

"What happened to 'he's not my lover'?" she retorted.

"Love," Eliza answered, lifting her chin, "has had naught to do with it."

"Who needs love with one such as him to warm your bed?" Madame asked prosaically, beginning to remove the pinned and draped cloth from Eliza.

"The earl is smitten with you; I can scarcely believe it," she continued with a slight scowl. "You must be more intelligent than I first thought...or perhaps it is merely your giant bosoms."

"Oh, well, thank you, Madame." Eliza rolled her eyes upward.

"Do not thank me yet, mademoiselle," the modiste said. "Wait until he sees you in one of my magnificent ensembles. You will be completely irresistible!"

"Well, bugger me," Eliza grumbled under her breath.

***

Eliza found herself almost wishing to be perched back on Madame's wooden box after half an hour of tea and refreshments on the terrace. Lady Pelham was noticeably absent, and a ladies' maid slumped in a small chair near the terrace doors, apparently serving as chaperone.

"Mother said the air outside was too brisk for her," the earl's cousin Caroline explained. "I hope she isn't feeling poorly. We may have to postpone our departure tomorrow if she isn't well."

"I'm sure she's fine," Rockdale said in a grim tone.

"I noticed Madame Bissette leaving the house earlier," Miss Pratt remarked. "Her shop has gained quite an illustrious reputation in London, and she charges an extravagant amount for her designs. I have three of her frocks, you know," she said, flicking her eyes at the earl. "It's truly amazing you were able to get her to come all the way out here for your daughter."

She turned to the young girl, who was crumbling a scone in her plate. "Did you enjoy picking out new dresses with Madame, Lady Anna?"

"I suppose," Anna replied without interest. "Miss Lockhart, may Nicholas and I go play now?"

Rockdale frowned. "Anna, Miss Pratt is speaking to you. She is a guest in our house, so please answer her question politely."

Anna's cheeks turned red. "No, Miss Pratt, I did not care for picking out new dresses. Madame Bissette refused to let me pick any of the colors I liked, and she stuck me with a pin...twice. She wouldn't let me look through her sketch books, even though I asked nicely, and she said some things in French that I think were bad words. And then, she said she mustn't spend too long with me because she needed to attend to Miss Lockhart."

A dead silence ensued at the small table after the lengthy spill of words. Anna's mouth folded in a mulish line that Eliza knew did not bode well.

Eliza fought to keep her expression coolly unaffected and prayed that for once Rockdale would keep his mouth closed.

"Madame Bissette fitted you as well, Miss Lockhart?" Caroline asked, her eyes bright with interest.

"Yes, actually," Eliza answered. "Madame was kind enough to allow me a couple simple dresses." Stretching the truth a bit, but mostly true, she thought.

The other ladies relaxed, apparently seeing this as hardly more than charity from the dressmaker.

"Children, why don't we go entertain ourselves for a while the earl chats with his guests? Will you excuse us, my lord?" Eliza smiled pleasantly and rose from the table.

Rockdale's brow furrowed, but he nodded his assent.

She followed the children to an open area where the flagged stone terrace extended in a broad curve before leading in a series of short stone stairways down to the formal gardens.

With an impish smile, Nicholas produced a leather ball from his jacket pocket. Eliza lifted a brow but said nothing when he tossed it to his sister.

Hands behind her back, Eliza strolled slowly while the children began an impromptu game of catch. She admired the gardens with their orderly beauty, determined to not look back at Rockdale and his lady guests. The lot of them could go jump in the estate pond for all she cared, she thought irritably.

Perhaps she truly wasn't cut out to be a lowly governess, she mused with a sigh. It had been all she could do not to shove a cream cake right into Miss Pratt's haughty nose.

Willoughby, the earl's gardener, ambled into view, pruning shears in hand. Eliza waved to him, glad to see a friendly face. He beamed and waved back then turned to speak to someone behind him, pointing at Eliza.

The figure stepped from behind the shrubbery, and she recognized him as the earl's secretary, John Willoughby. He touched his father on the shoulder before turning to climb the stone steps, his eyes upon Eliza.

Eliza bit her lip as he approached; Rockdale's unreasonable ire over the gardener's son remained all too clear in her memory.

"Good afternoon, Miss Lockhart," he said, doffing his hat politely.

"Good afternoon, sir," she replied, taking a hopefully indiscernible step backward in order to put more physical distance between them.

He foiled her intentions by moving even closer. "Miss Lockhart, I pray you will pardon my terrible rudeness, but I must speak with you alone. It is most important."

"Alone?" she echoed uneasily. "I'm afraid that I—"

His eyes bore into hers beseechingly. "You must think me quite forward, but I..."

Eliza took another step away, praying that somehow Rockdale wasn't observing their conversation. For all that he was and was not, she was quite sure the earl did not make idle threats.

"Mr. Willoughby," she began uncomfortably, looking away from him. "It isn't proper..."

"Eliza," he said firmly. Her head snapped up at his use of her given name. "Forgive me, but my father has confided in me something that I find quite disturbing." His hand fisted, and then he was the one to look away. "Do you understand what I am speaking of and why we need to speak somewhere alone?"

She felt the color drain away from her face. "I see."

The secretary's mouth twisted; their eyes met once more.

"This is a misunderstanding, Mr. Willoughby," Eliza said, striving to keep her voice steady. "There is nothing you and I need to discuss."

Nicholas' ball rolled to her feet, and she automatically bent to pick it up. The young boy skidded to a halt before them, his eyes moving from Eliza to the earl's secretary as though even he could feel the undercurrent of tension.

She handed the ball over to her charge with a small smile and restrained herself from smoothing the chestnut curl that had fallen over his forehead. He dashed away, lobbing the ball wildly at Anna.

Mr. Willoughby cleared his throat, and reluctantly she turned back to him. "I beg to differ, Miss Lockhart. I must insist that we discuss the issue privately. If not now, then later today."

Eliza sighed. "I will try," she said stiffly.

He nodded. "Meet me in two hours' time, in the lower gardens near the fountain."

***

"Don't they make the most fetching couple?" Miss Pratt asked brightly. 

Rockdale forced himself to release his teacup lest he shatter the fragile porcelain.

"They do!" Caroline agreed. "I believe they have formed a tendre for one another. I find it rather sweet actually."

Miss Pratt leaned closer. "Lord Rockdale, I'm afraid you may lose your governess to a marriage proposal soon," she said with a sly smile.

Rockdale wanted to deny he had even noticed the pair but could not seem to stop himself from trying to sear a hole into his secretary's back with the force of his burning gaze.

But he could plainly see Miss Lockhart did not have the air of a flirtatious lady meeting an admirer, and this fact kept him at the table and attempting to converse civilly with his guests. If anything, Eliza appeared uncomfortable, and he had seen her back away from the man not once, but twice.

The earl drummed his fingers on the table. Perhaps he should make up an excuse to go over there—just to see if anything was amiss, of course.

"Let us take our tour of the estate grounds," Carolina suggested. "I have a grand idea! Shall we invite Mr. Willoughby along?"

"No," Rockdale said.

A short time later, the earl found himself escorting an animatedly chattering young lady on either side of him with Miss Lockhart, the children, and an unhappy ladies' maid trailing behind. 

He frowned in annoyance, wishing his cousin and her friend would stop yammering so that he could better hear Miss Lockhart's husky laugh and the high-pitched voices of his son and daughter. He remembered kissing Eliza earlier with the seamstress looking on, and he smiled a bit recalling their spirited exchange of words.

"And do you believe she wore a ball gown to a musicale?" His cousin's voice broke through his thoughts. "It was the most outrageous thing I've ever seen!"

Rockdale sighed. Caro might have more fluff than brains in her head, but as his aunt had said earlier, she was family. This led him again to think of Miles Barlow, now Viscount Atherton. He would do all in his power to keep the blackguard from marrying his young cousin, he vowed.

Eliza laughed again, and like a man compelled, the earl glanced over his shoulder to see what had amused her. A sharp cry to his left jerked his head to the side.

Before he could steady her, Miss Pratt tumbled to the ground in a flurry of pale green skirts. She moaned low and reached for her foot, the lady's flipped up skirts displaying quite a bit of shapely, stocking-covered legs.

"Lydia! Good heavens!" Caroline exclaimed.

"What happened?" Rockdale asked, flabbergasted.

"My ankle," Miss Pratt said, looking up at him with tears shimmering in her pale-blue eyes. "I must have stepped on a loose stone...and then...oh, Lord Rockdale, I must have twisted my ankle."

He stooped down and ignoring her gasp, gently laid a hand on Miss Pratt's small ankle and probed. "Can you move it?"

She wiggled it a bit and winced. "I can, my lord, but it hurts terribly." She sniffed. "If you help me up, perhaps I can walk..."




Carnal Knowledge Ch. 08



"Just be still," he muttered and wrapping an arm around her back and another under her rump, he lifted her up into his arms.

"Oh my!" Miss Pratt cried out, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Cousin William! How gallant of you!"

The earl strode back toward the house, thankfully not too great of a distance away. His eyes met Eliza's wide ones for just a moment. Her bonnet listed slightly askew and a smudge of dirt adorned her cheek, but he would have given anything to be holding his governess in his arms instead of the young lady he carried.

Miss Pratt sniffled and laid her cheek upon his chest. "Thank you ever so much, my lord," she whispered. "You are truly my champion."

Rockdale rolled his eyes and hefted his burden more securely in his arms.

***

Eliza pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. Against her better judgment, she followed the garden pathway leading to the stone fountain where Mr. Willoughby had insisted they meet. She shivered. The shadows had lengthened, and the late afternoon sun had disappeared behind a veil of dark clouds.

Why on earth had she spoken to the gardener about her situation with Rockdale? And why had the older man mentioned it to his son?

That had to be the reason John Willoughby had insisted on speaking to her in private. It was all so wretchedly embarrassing! The possibility of people viewing her as the earl's personal prostitute revolted her. And she cringed to think of her mother or sister ever finding out what she'd been forced to do to secure their home.

It doesn't matter, she told herself firmly. You're going to get the cottage from Rockdale before much longer and return home. You'll never have to see any of these horrid people again.

Her heart panged at the thought of never seeing Anna and Nicholas again. But they were not her children, she reminded herself. And they were young and would likely forget her before the season changed to summer.

She lifted her chin and forged ahead. A prickle of uneasiness settled at the back of her neck, but she shrugged it off. The thought of Rockdale discovering her tête-à-tête with John Willoughby jangled her nerves with apprehension, though the earl had seemed well occupied at the house with the lovely Lydia.

The lady had actually smirked at her from her lofty position in Rockdale's arms. Eliza would've sworn the young woman had faked the entire incident. But ploy or not, she could not deny Miss Pratt had looked as though she belonged there in the earl's arms. Her lithe, elegant beauty seemed to perfectly match his tall and lean physique.

Eliza rubbed a spot in the center of her chest that suddenly felt tight.

One would have thought Miss Pratt had fallen into a bear trap for all the drama that erupted when the small group had returned to the house. Pillows, blankets and poultices by the score had been gathered and Lydia snuggly ensconced on a plush chaise in the second-floor drawing room.

The doctor had been summoned from the village, and though the man pronounced nothing seemed to be broken, the young lady would need to rest her injured foot. It appeared Rockdale's uninvited guests would not be departing anytime in the near future.

A figure stepped out onto the pathway ahead of her, and Eliza squeaked in surprise, nearly stumbling.

The footman George, the last person she wished to encounter, grasped her arm.

"If it isn't the lovely Miss Lockhart," he purred, eyeing her in such a way that put her immediately ill at ease. 

She tugged at her arm, and to her surprise he released her. Quickly, she backed away.

George held a hand up, his expression placating. "Don't run away, hen. I only wanted to talk to you a moment. What do you say you and I get better acquainted?"

His charming, boyish grin made her skin crawl, but Eliza resisted the urge to turn and run.

She forced herself to look him directly in the eye. "You and I have nothing to discuss. Please do not speak to me or touch me ever again. Good day to you."

She nodded in dismissal and turned away, wavering for an instant on whether to continue to the fountain or return to the relative safety of the house. Damnation, why had she not put that stupid kitchen knife back in her pocket after the fitting with Madame?

George grabbed her upper sleeve roughly and flung her back around to face him. "I'm not finished with you yet, little miss high and mighty."

"Let go of me, you slack-witted buffoon!" Eliza shoved hard at the footman's solid chest, but he held firm and spun her around so that her back was flush against his front.

A muscular arm snaked across her ribs, binding her arms viselike to her sides. She struggled against his hold, her scream of fury muffled by his hand clamping over her mouth.

The bastard laughed softly in her ear. Infuriated, Eliza tossed her head and tried in vain to bite his hand. To her horror, in squirming to get free, she could feel the bulge of his hardening cock pressing against her bottom.

She kicked back at his leg viciously and made contact. George cursed and jerked her backwards into the bushes, her feet dragging as she resisted. He succeeded in forcing her into a small clearing amongst the tall shrubberies. Outrage mingled with the fear of what he might do to her in the secluded spot increased her fervor to get away.

His hand slid from her mouth and grasped her throat. He squeezed, not enough to completely block her airway, but a rising tide of panic threatened to overtake her as dark spots appeared in her vision. She swayed in his grip, light-headed and weakening.

"Now, you're going to listen," George said, soft and menacing. "You like to prance around the house with your nose in the air, but see I know what a strumpet you really are. And it doesn't seem fair that his lordship gets to fuck you and I don't."

He released her throat, and she sucked in greedy gulps of air, trembling.

"You'd better keep that mouth shut," he growled. "Or I'll have to wring that pretty neck of yours, understand, hen?"

He nuzzled her cheek, and Eliza shuddered in revulsion at the feel of his wet tongue sliding along her jaw. She bowed back in his grasp when he covered her breast with a beefy hand, roughly squeezing and groping the soft mound.

George groaned deep in his throat while his free hand leisurely fondled her chest. "I've been waiting so long to get my hands on these tits. Bet you didn't know I saw you through the keyhole in his lordship's study—getting naked as the day you were born, strutting around for him. And you pretend to be so prim and proper," George sneered. "But you're not, are you?"

Even through the layers of her skirt and underclothes, Eliza's flesh tightened with revulsion when his hand glided down her body to delve between her legs.

Her instincts clamored to try and scream for help. Perhaps one of the Willoughby's would hear her. But perhaps not. If George put his hand around her throat once more...she had no doubt the powerful man could very well strangle the life out of her.

She choked back a sob as George yanked up fistfuls of her skirts until he exposed the worn-thin cotton of her drawers. The heated pants of his breathing rippled past Eliza's ear while his finger traced the seam between her legs to the slit opening of her drawers.

She kicked back at the bastard, aiming for his knee.

"I bet you don't want everyone to know your shameful secret, do you?" he continued, easily evading her kick and squeezing her tighter. "You better do what I say, or everybody's going to know that not only do you play the whore for the earl, but you're eager to spread your legs for all the men in the house."

"No one's going to believe you!" she spat and bent from the waist, trying to find room to maneuver and dislodge his hold. Grunting, George bent with her, maintaining his hold and better aligning his groin with the crease in her buttocks.

"Oh, I think they will," he assured her. "Mrs. Biddleton just told me in front of half the staff that you were looking for me—wanted to speak privately, she said."

"That's rubbish! Even she wouldn't do that," Eliza said indignantly. "George, please—let us just talk for a moment."

"You didn't want to talk, remember?" he taunted.

"Don't, please, don't do this," she begged.

"Bleedin' Christ, but I want to fuck you right here." George shoved his cock against her bottom and pushed his entire hand inside the slit of her drawers. He palmed her thatch of curls, his hips humping her from behind. She tried to squeeze her thighs closed, but one blunt finger parted her outer labia.

"Stop it, stop it," she hissed, vainly shoving at the hard arm restraining her, writhing and squirming in panic.

Breathing hard, George pulled his hand from beneath her skirt. "Listen up, you little wagtail. You're going to walk with me back to the house and in through the servants' door and up to my room. You're going to take those clothes off and kneel down on my bed so I can fuck you."

He chuckled nastily. "Bet the earl hasn't pounded that plump arse yet. But I'm going to, hen, and you're going to let me. Hell, a lusty whore like you will probably beg for more."

Frustration, anger and fear warred within her. This stupid lout of a man would not get the best of her! Damned if she would let him rape her. Damned if she would!

Still holding her tightly, George began to roughly grab her breasts again muttering something odd about having to get her in the house.

Thinking quickly and casting a prayer heavenward, she let her body go limp in his grip.

"What the hell..." George loosened his grip around her abdomen, fumbling to hold her upright.

Fiery hatred fueled a burst of hard movement, and she threw her head backward, butting him in the face.

George cursed vilely, and she pitched forward as hard as she could, causing him to stumble a bit. She broke away from him, immediately whirled around and rammed her knee as hard as she could into his groin.

Eyes wide and shocked, he slumped to his knees, gasping. "You bitch!"

Heart thundering, she glared down at him. "Lord Rockdale will hear that you attacked me."

Even clutching his groin George managed to smirk up at her. "When I explain what a lightskirt his governess is, I don't think it's me he'll blame." He laughed and winced. "The housekeeper knows you've been sniffing around me. She's gonna tell his lordship she saw you on your knees in the linens closet suckling on my cock like a hungry babe to her bottle."

Disgust and loathing rose up as bile in her throat. "You're a lying, miserable sack of excrement—that means shit in case you're too stupid to know."

His eyes glittered at her with malice. "Am I? You just wait, hen. You're gonna be sorry you didn't go with me like I asked. Besides, I heard you say at dinner you have a younger sister, maybe she will like me better, you think?"

"I'll kill you first!"

"Eliza? Miss Lockhart?"

Eliza lurched through the bushes back to the pathway and saw John Willoughby standing a short distance away, looking around with puzzlement.

Shakily, she straightened her dress and stepped forward, painfully clearing her sore throat.

Looking startled, he spun about and strode quickly to her side.

"Miss Lockhart! I thought I heard your voice, but I couldn't locate you. Did I hear you speaking with someone?"

She felt tears and delayed hysteria rising to the surface. Desperate to get away, she blinked rapidly, her breathing ragged. "Let us walk toward the house, please. I am not feeling well."

The urge to collapse in his arms and sob felt almost overwhelming, but Eliza forced herself to keep moving. Just get to your room, she told herself. Just get there and you can fall to pieces and cry.

"I must talk to you first, Miss Lockhart," Mr. Willoughby began stiffly.

Abruptly even this well-intentioned gentleman had become too much for her to handle.

"No," she said in a loud, forceful voice, surprising the both of them with her intensity. "I appreciate your concern for me, but it is misplaced." She stepped away from his guiding arm, not wanting to be touched.

"I see," he said, his expression cooling into a neutral mask.

Tears burned behind her eyes. Bloody hell, now she had hurt the dratted man's feelings.

So be it, she thought angrily. She had to get away from here. Now.

"Just leave me alone, Mr. Willoughby," she choked out and spun away from him, fleeing back inside as fast as her leaden feet would take her.

***

Pleading illness, Eliza did not go back to the nursery or down to dinner. She huddled in her bed, feeling cold and empty inside.

Sleep refused to pull her under—she lay still in the dark, knife clutched tightly in her hand.

Time passed in a blur, and she realized the earl was standing over her bed with an odd expression on his face.

"Eliza, are you all right?" he asked softly.

"Fine," she answered flatly.

He did not move. "Are you feeling ill?"

"Yes," she said. "I have cast up my accounts several times this evening," she lied. "I must have caught what Lady Anna had. You had better keep your distance from me."

"Shall I stay?" he queried, sounding uncertain. "Or send someone to tend you?"

"No. I wish to be alone," she said and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, he had gone. A tear escaped to trickle down her cold cheek.

***

Eliza greeted the weak morning sun with gritty eyes and an aching head. Numbness seemed to have taken over her body while she washed, dressed and headed downstairs for breakfast.

She had slept later than normal and found herself sitting at the dining table with not only Rockdale and his children but all three houseguests as well.

"Miss Lockhart, are you feeling better this morning?" Rockdale asked, his eyes traveling over her.

"Yes, thank you, my lord," she answered woodenly. She stared down at the plate of food she had selected and wondered how she would possibly choke a bite of it down.

"Rockdale, we had planned to depart today, but with Lydia's injury, I'm afraid we will have to extend our stay," Lady Pelham announced, not sounding entirely happy with this turn of events.

"That's quite all right," Rockdale said. "Please stay as long as you like."

He picked up a folded piece of foolscap by his plate. "Unfortunately, I have something I need to share as well."

All eyes rose to him as he tapped the paper on the table, his expression grave.

"Miss Lockhart," he said, "I have received a message from your mother's doctor this morning."

Shock at this unexpected pronouncement shattered Eliza's shield of numbness. "My m-mother?" 

"Yes, I'm afraid her condition has declined. The doctor suggested you may wish to travel home for a short while."

Her fork fell to the table with a clang. "She's dying?" Eliza asked. Her lips felt numb, and the room began to tilt strangely around her.

"No, she isn't dying," he replied. "But I think perhaps you should see her as soon as possible."

"Yes, of course," she whispered in agreement.

But how on earth would she get there? Eliza wrapped her arms around her middle. She had no available funds with which to purchase her transport to Lancashire.

"We will take my carriage, of course," he said as though she had spoken aloud. "It will be the quickest, safest way to get there."

Lady Pelham's head shot up. "We? You don't mean you're going with her, do you?"

"Actually, yes," he said. "I have some other urgent business to attend to—so I will ride alongside as an escort for part of the trip."

"Oh my goodness, Miss Lockhart," Caroline said. "I do hope your mother will be well again soon."

"Thank you, Miss Stanley," Eliza replied automatically, her mind tumbling in a hundred directions as she struggled to make sense of what the earl had told her. Her mother's illness had become more serious? Could she possibly be dying?

"When you finish eating, go pack some things, Miss Lockhart," Rockdale instructed. "We will depart this morning."

Stunned silence greeted his pronouncement. Rockdale summoned Nicholas and Anna over to his side and murmured to them. Wide-eyed, they looked back at Eliza while the earl patted each child on the shoulder.

Eliza did her best to smile reassuringly while the youngsters followed the butler out of the dining room.

Miss Pratt's face had gone pale, and she stared at Rockdale in consternation. "But, my lord, I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Rockdale, now see here-!" Lady Pelham blustered.

"I give my deepest apologies to you, dear ladies," Rockdale interrupted gently, "but I'm afraid I must leave you for now. Miss Pratt, please take as long as you need here at Verity Hall to recuperate from your unfortunate tumble."

Lady Pelham pursed her lips, looking as though she wished to say more but held her tongue.

Eliza rose unsteadily and abruptly stilled upon noticing the footman George enter the room. She had known she would likely see encounter him, but the sight of the brute still caused her stomach to roil uneasily.

Rockdale, apparently noticing her distress, if not the cause, came to her side and took her arm. "Come along now, Miss Lockhart. I'm sure your mother will be fine. Let's find a maid to help you pack, shall we?"

Eliza took one last look backward as the earl led her out of the dining room. Lydia Platt glared at her, the young lady's cheeks awash in ugly bright red.

Less than an hour later, the earl's well-sprung carriage carried Eliza swiftly away from the estate. Worry for her mother weighed heavily on her mind, and she knotted her hands in her lap, fretting over the necessary evil of travel time.

The earl rode a horse somewhere behind the carriage. Eliza supposed this was one of the times the man had decided to observe propriety. But despite the turbulence of her emotions and her mixed feelings toward him, she did grudgingly give thanks to Rockdale for allowing her the means to quickly travel to Lancashire.

The landscape passed in a blur through the window with its tied-back black velvet curtains. She tried to keep from dwelling on the worst possibilities and looked up in puzzlement when the carriage began to slow.

What the devil! Surely, they had only been on the road for an hour or so, she reasoned and wondered if one of the horses had gone lame.

Eliza peered out the window to try to see what could be amiss. The carriage door opened, and the broad shoulders of Rockdale appeared. The spacious interior seemed to shrink to half its size when he climbed inside and sank into the seat opposite her.

The door closed and with a jerk the carriage began moving forward once again.

They regarded one another in silence for several moments. Eliza glanced away, sightlessly gazing out the window before returning her eyes to him. Her throat worked; it felt as though she had everything and nothing to say to him.

"Thank you for allowing me the use of your carriage," she said finally, fighting the tears that threatened to well in her eyes.

Rockdale looked grim and his eyes were shuttered. He, too, looked away a moment and her heart beat faster. She thought perhaps her mother's condition was more urgent than he had revealed.

"We are not going to Lancashire," he said.

Shock rolled over her like a bucketful of icy water. "But how shall I get to my mother?" she asked slowly. Panic began beating frantic wings inside her chest. "She's ill. I must go!"

Rockdale withdrew a folded paper from his pocket and extended it to her. "Read for yourself. Your mother is perfectly fine."

She accepted the letter with numb fingers. "I don't...I don't understand. You said..."

"I lied," he said simply. His face regarded her, expressionless, across the short distance between them.

Eliza scrubbed at her chest, heart beating at an urgent pace, almost as she had been running alongside the carriage. Realization began to dawn amid her confusion. "If we're not going to Lancashire to see my family—then where the BLOODY HELL ARE WE GOING?"




Carnal Knowledge Ch. 08



The earl seemed unaffected by the fact she was screeching at him like a fishwife in the marketplace.

"I truly have some business to attend to and then we have...shall we say...an interesting masquerade to attend."

"You cannot be serious!" Dumbfounded, Eliza jerked at the ties of her bonnet and snatched it violently off her head. "You lied to me, your children, and your guests—so we could attend a party?"

She shook her head in disgust. "I know the gentry are eccentric—all that inbreeding I suppose. And you certainly never have a qualm for anyone's feelings but your own-"

He frowned.

"But, this!" She cast around for the words to even possibly explain her thoughts. "This is beyond the pale even for a nefarious cur like you!"

He mouthed the words "nefarious cur" as though impressed.

Eliza angrily swiped a tear off her cheek. "How could you! And—and—to the point, how DARE you? Are you completely mad?" she demanded.

"I did feel badly lying to you about your mother," he said. "Surely that redeems me a mite?" One corner of his mouth tilted up, attempting, she supposed, to look repentant.

She slapped him hard in the chest with her bonnet. "It redeems you not a damn bit," she grated and flounced back on the seat.

"I loathe you," she said with feeling.

He shrugged and laid her bonnet to the side. "At least we're free of the sticky web and machinations of Lady Pelham and Miss Pratt." He nudged the large covered basket in the floor of the carriage with the toe of his boot. "I wonder what Cook packed for luncheon."



Carnal Knowledge Ch. 09-10



Dear Readers,

Thank you for your continued support. I read and appreciate each and every one of your comments!

Forgive me for the longer delay for this installment, but Chapter 10 insisted it must go along with Chapter 9, so of course I had to listen, lest Chapter 11 go completely awry.

I am never sure how my story will be received, but I hope you will enjoy this latest bit!

All my love,

Emmeline

*******

Chapter 9

Silence fell again inside the carriage. Eliza stared stonily out the window, and Rockdale sighed.

And though he hadn't said a word, her head swung back around to face him, eyes narrowed.

"Couldn't you have warned me of your plans to deceive everyone? And thus spared me the terror of thinking my mother dying?" she demanded.

Rockdale spread his hands wide. "I was feeling plagued by unwelcome houseguests." He shrugged. "The idea occurred to me last night, and it seemed to be a reasonable and believable means to accomplish several things I wanted."

Seeing her thunderous expression, he shifted on the seat and continued. "Perhaps...I should have given more thought to your feelings. For this, I do...apologize."

He waited for her reply, but she only nodded curtly and resumed her stare out the window.

Nonplussed, the earl sat back against the seat and plucked his hat off. Bloody hell.  He had lowered himself to apologize to the damned woman, and yet she still seemed unsatisfied.

"You were supposed to be a biddable, docile young woman from the country," he muttered irritably.

Without turning she replied, "And you were described as a kind, but distant, lord looking for a governess. It seems we were both sorely misled."

They rode in silence a while longer, and Rockdale continued to stew. He was growing a bit tired of Miss Lockhart's haughty attitude.

Bored and restless, he found himself staring at her breasts. Even in the confines of bodice and stays, they bounced most charmingly on the uneven spots in the road. He was broodingly hoping for the wheels to find a sizable rut when a soft snore pulled his attention upward.

The sunlight through the window played over the pale skin of her face. Eliza's head had listed to the side and her eyes were closed. Looked damned uncomfortable to him, but he figured touching her might well get his bloody head bitten off, so he let her be.

He did notice there were dark smudges under her eyes and wondered if she felt poorly from her illness the night before. A twinge of guilt assailed him. Perhaps he had been thoughtless forcing her to travel after she'd been recently sick.

Nothing to be done for it now, he reasoned. They couldn't exactly turn around and go back at this point.

Her head continued to list further over, and he winced. A sore neck surely wasn't going to improve her surly disposition when she awoke.

Rockdale cocked his head. Where the creamy skin of her throat met the high neckline of her dark blue gown there were strange discolored spots barely visible...

Almost before the thought had completed in his mind, his body launched across the floorboard to the opposite seat. He leaned over her dozing form and carefully lifted the fabric of her gown away from her neck.

Unmistakable at close range, bruises indeed bloomed on either side of her throat, almost as though someone's fingers had closed—

Blood began to pound hard and fast in his head. Some person, someone strong by the looks of it, had touched her, hurt her.

His hands clenched into fists. How could this have happened at Verity Hall? It was supposed to be a safe and secure haven for his children...dear God. Surely if they were in danger she would have told him.

Why had she not told him?

He moved back to his own seat across from her.

"Eliza," he said. "Wake up."

She stirred and opened her eyes slowly, blinking. "Sorry, did I doze off?"

Rockdale gripped his knees and tried to keep his voice even. "Darling, who put those bruises on your neck?"

Her hand flew protectively to her throat, and she swallowed hard.

Fury quite unlike anything he had ever felt surged into his chest when he saw her tremble and bow her head.

"Eliza?" he prompted, his voice strained. "Was it Willoughby?"

She shook her head and darted a quick look at his face. "It...it was the footman George."

Rockdale stared hard at her pale face as he struggled to absorb this information. "Tell me what happened, every bit."

He waited impatiently while she twisted her hands in her lap. Part of him wished to spare her more unpleasantness, but the black rage controlling him demanded to know.

"He has harassed me before," she admitted. "He claims to have seen us together. Enough to surmise that we are..."

"Lovers?" he asked bluntly.

She stared out the window again. "Yes. I was walking in the gardens yesterday afternoon when he accosted me. I tried to get away—" 

Her breathing hitched, and Rockdale dearly wished to inflict bodily harm upon the man who had hurt her.

"But you couldn't?" he prompted.

Her hands wrapped around her abdomen. "He pulled me behind the shrubberies and...put his hands on me." She shuddered. "He kept saying that he was going to tell everyone what a whore I was, and that Mrs. Biddleton would corroborate his story."

Rockdale grimaced. "She is his aunt, I believe. That is possible."

The earl dragged a hand through his hair, rumpling it. "Dear God. How far...Eliza...did he force himself on you?" he forced the words out, dread of her answer sickening his stomach.

She bit her lip. "He wanted to," she said hoarsely. "He pulled my skirts up but kept babbling about needing to get me in the house." She shook her head. "I didn't understand why he waited, but I'm glad he did."

"How on earth did you get away?"

A harsh look passed over Eliza's face. "I butted him with my head," she said, nodding. "And then I rammed my knee into his bollocks."

Some relief eased his worry. "Good girl," he murmured.

Tears glimmered on her lashes as she angled a look up at him. "I should have done that to you," she said and sniffed.

Moving slowly, he eased back over beside her and drew her into his arms. "Yes, you should have."

She cried softly for a bit, and he held her close, stroking her back.

"I would never let him touch me voluntarily, never!" she said into his chest.

"I know, darling," he soothed.

Eliza raised her head to look at him. "You believe me?" she whispered.

Rockdale laid a hand on her cheek that wasn't quite steady. "Every thought you have is written plain on your face," he said, smiling slightly. "I think you may be the most honest and true person I've ever known."

Rockdale frowned at her surprised expression. "Did you think I wouldn't believe you? Is that why didn't tell me immediately?"

She ducked her head and took a shuddering breath. "I don't know. I was just so shaken by the incident and frightened, too. I didn't know where to turn."

"Eliza, you must always come to me," he reproached, tucking a loosened curl behind her ear. "I can't believe I allowed someone like this horse's arse near you and the children."

She sniffed. "What will you do about him?" she asked, looking up at him, uncertain.

Rockdale took both her hands into his. "You are mine," he said simply. "No one else touches what is mine."

Her expression was troubled, and he stared into her fathomless dark blue eyes, wondering what she was thinking.

He pressed her hand over his heart. "Will you forgive me for not protecting you?"

Her eyes were wide and serious. "Yes, but who will protect me from you?" she whispered.

Rockdale had no answer for her and truthfully did not care to dwell upon her question. Somehow this young woman from the country, meant to be used for an amusing romp of bedsport had become quite necessary to him. Her spirit refused to be diminished when, by all rights, she should have been cowed by his greater power and influence over her.

At turns she drove him absolutely incensed, made him laugh out loud, compelled him to use his wits to spar with her, and not only did he have an almost uncontrollable lust for her delectable body, but he found himself desiring just to have the simple pleasure of being in her company. She made the mundane pace of his days sparkle with a life unlike anything he had ever experienced.

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "For now, just trust me take care of you," he whispered against her mouth.

He could feel her trembling. 

"You ask too much," she said unsteadily. "You demand everything of me but give nothing in return. How can I possibly trust you?"

"You shouldn't, but you're going to," he commanded and lowered his head to capture her lips again.

***

Eliza turned her face away from the earl's seeking mouth.

His eyes narrowed in displeasure.

"I need time to collect my thoughts." She took a deep breath. "I don't know what to think about anything anymore, and you're trying to befuddle me with kisses."

"Is it working?" he said, lifting his brow.

"No. Now go back to your side of the carriage. I want to read the letter from my mother."

For a long moment, he stared down at her, and Eliza almost felt sure he was going to press the issue or at least try further seduction, but at last he grudgingly nodded and returned to the opposite seat.

Eliza smoothed her hair and with trembling fingers picked up the letter Rockdale had given her and realized it was actually two letters folded together. Opening the first, joy buoyed her spirits to see her mother's handwriting.

Dearest Eliza,

I hope this letter finds you well, daughter. How missed you are in this little home! Abigail and Mrs. Wick send their love, as do I. I'm sure you are settling well into life at Verity Hall and are a valuable addition to that grand household.

The earl must be a kind employer indeed to send a doctor all the way from London to attend the mother of his governess! You cannot imagine my surprise when that distinguished physician arrived at the door of our humble cottage!

I must admit I was resistant at first to his methods of treatment. The gentleman is insistent on daily walks outside to build my strength. Dr. Morgan is quite a stubborn man...and quite a handsome one, too, I must say if you will forgive an old woman's silliness.

In other news, I should tell you that Mr. Dillingham has sold our cottage and its small property to some distant lord. I was most distressed to learn of this, but Mr. Dillingham has told me not to worry, we will be allowed to stay, and our rent is to be reduced by half!

Things are finally looking up for our family, and it is all because of your sacrifice, dear Eliza.

If given the chance, please express my gratitude to your generous employer for the thoughtful treatment he has arranged for me to receive from Dr. Morgan.

I pray this letter finds you well and content.

Love always,

Mama

Eliza snorted. Generous employer my arse, she thought.

She unfolded the second letter, written from the doctor himself to the earl and browsed the neat, sparse handwriting.

"He thinks my mother really is improving," Eliza said, smiling in delight. "I can almost forgive you for lying to me. And maybe I even feel a bit grateful to you for sending the doctor from London." She paused and looked up. "I couldn't have arranged that on my own."

"How grateful are you feeling?" he asked silkily, mouth turning up at one end.

"Not that grateful."

"Pity," he murmured. "It's a long trip."

***

The day was growing late when the earl's carriage stopped in front of a small townhouse nestled on a quiet street in the outskirts of London.

"Is this our destination?" Eliza asked, puzzled.

"For now," Rockdale answered, assisting her out of the carriage.

Eliza resisted the urge to pester him for more answers. No matter how many questions she posed, it seemed the blasted man was determined to be vague about his plans.

With a small sigh, she accepted the arm he offered and let him to steer her toward the front door. She looked over the house with interest and slight trepidation; it had a pleasant, elegant dignity without appearing ostentatious.

Eliza halted abruptly and refused to budge another step.

Rockdale glanced askance down at her. 

"Is this where you house your mistress?" she demanded in a whisper.

"No, there's nothing sordid about the place," he assured her with some exasperation. "I keep a small household here. I find it quite a pleasant escape at times."

She reluctantly allowed herself to be towed along toward the entrance.

At the door, they were heartily welcomed by an older couple Rockdale introduced as his housekeepers, Mr. and Mrs. Crawley. The pair seemed genuinely pleased to see the earl even as Rockdale apologized for their unannounced arrival.

Eliza hovered near the door, stiff and uncomfortable, but the Crawleys raised not the slightest qualm at the sight of her. Mrs. Crawley bustled over, fussing over Eliza as she whisked away her shawl, urging her further into the house.

"Poor lamb, you look completely chilled!" Mrs. Crawley exclaimed. "Let's get you warmed up with some nice tea and a bite to eat."

Shame reddened Eliza's cheeks, and she kept her gaze on the floor, mortified to be such an inappropriate guest of the earl's. No respectable, unmarried lady would be in his company sans chaperone.

But as she had no other option, Eliza allowed herself to be directed into a cozy parlor, and within what seemed like minutes, she and Rockdale were comfortably seated across from one another before a warm fire with tea and plates of sandwiches that had seemed to magically appear.

Eliza hid her nose in her teacup, breathing in the rising steam before sipping gratefully. The journey from Verity Hall had not been an arduous one, but tiring nonetheless.

Gladly, no one seemed to expect her to make conversation, and she found herself becoming rather drowsy absently listening to Rockdale's deep voice as he conversed with the Crawleys.

After receiving Rockdale's instructions, the couple rose, leaving them to their supper. Mrs. Crawley gave her a soft pat on the shoulder before she exited.

Eliza and the earl sat quietly by the fire for a few moments, eating and drinking their tea.

"The Crawleys are nice," she said, giving him a quick look over the rim of her teacup.

"Yes, I am very lucky to have them."

Eliza rested her cup in her lap, cradling the warm china in her hands. "Do they...do they know?" she asked hesitantly. Being a woman of loose moral principles was a new and embarrassing concept for her.

"They know nothing about you," Rockdale said. "And they won't ask, believe me. You are my guest here, that is all that matters."

He stared silently at her for a moment then reached out and took her hand. Both of them had removed their gloves to take refreshments, and his bare skin felt hot and oddly intimate against hers.

"Here in this house we are simply William and Eliza," he said, drawing her hand up to his mouth and gently kissing the back.

Her heart gave a lurch at this courtly gesture despite herself. "Not Lord Rockdale and his lowly bumpkin governess?" she queried with a sardonic quirk of her brow, attempting to disguise his effect on her.

He laughed softly. "Ever my prickly little dove, aren't you?"

His dark eyes seemed to glow with warmth in the flickering light, and Eliza felt strangely disarmed when he turned her hand over and pressed a kiss to her palm. She shivered at the unexpected flick of his tongue and tried to pull her hand away in reflex. 

He held fast to her captive hand. "Mrs. Crawley is going to show you to your room upstairs. I want you to lie down and try to sleep for a couple hours. I have some things I need to do in the meantime."

Eliza frowned at him. Sleep now? What was he about? It wasn't even dark outside yet. "I don't understand," she said.

He raised her hand and laid it against his cheek. "I know you aren't accustomed to city hours, my dear, but we have a ball to attend tonight."

"Tonight!" Eliza was aghast. "I have nothing to wear!"

Rockdale's answering smile immediately made her uneasy. "You must trust me. You will have everything you need for the masque."

Eliza chided herself for feeling a bit forlorn and abandoned when Rockdale stood and took his leave a short time later. You're being ridiculous, she told herself. You are not a child.

But she did feel very alone when Mrs. Crawley led the way up the stairs of the unfamiliar house. The housekeeper escorted Eliza into a large bedroom dominated by a giant wooden bed. Eliza's eyes riveted to it, wondering if she would be sharing this bed with Rockdale. Her mind conjured him, imagining his muscular body sprawled nude over the plush, deep-red counterpane.

"Here we are, dearie," the housekeeper said, drawing Eliza's attention back with a self-conscious jerk. "Mr. Crawley has already stirred the fire so it's nice and toasty warm in here. Your wee trunk is there by the bed. Shall I help you undress? His lordship says you're wanting a bit of a lie down."

The older woman's kindness was almost her undoing. Eliza cleared her throat as tears threatened. How could this woman treat her so graciously when it was obvious she was nothing but the earl's light-o'-love?

"Ahh, no. Thank you, Mrs. Crawley," Eliza managed. "I'll be just fine on my own. I'm used to doing for myself."

Mrs. Crawley beamed and nodded. "Very good, miss. You just let me know if you'll be needing anything. There's fresh water in the ewer if you wish to wash up. Someone'll be back in a while to wake you."

Once alone, Eliza collapsed on the big bed. How on earth could Rockdale expect her to attend a ball tonight? They had traveled most of the day only stopping to change horses and eat a quick luncheon. She hadn't even packed her one ill-fitting evening gown. What could the earl be thinking?

She had never been to a ball before...let alone a masque!

Her mind twisted and twirled in morass of unending thoughts and worries of what the night might bring.

Stop it, she told herself. Just stop it.

If Rockdale meant to drag her around half the night and carouse with God-only-knew what kind of people, then she had better try to rest now and worry later.

"Right," she muttered.

***

The household staff at Verity Hall was gathered around the kitchen table, lingering over the last of their supper.

"I'm glad those troublesome ladies packed up and left after his lordship did," the housekeeper said stoutly.

Simpson frowned but nodded in agreement. Life was certainly simpler when the house was empty of its high-born occupants. But he did wish Mrs. Biddleton would hold her tongue on such matters. It wasn't proper to be saying such things, even with the earl away.

The butler nearly upended his teacup when the kitchen door loudly banged open. The household's youngest footman stood in the doorway trying to catch his breath.

"Ned!" Cook exclaimed. "I thought ye went along with his lordship!"

"I did," the young man said, panting. He brandished a folded piece of foolscap in his hand. "But the earl sent me back the first time we changed horses with an urgent message for Mr. Simpson."

Simpson rose at once and strode to Ned's side. "Well, give it here then, boy."

The butler opened the letter and scanned the contents, swallowed hard and read it again. He pinned Ned with a hard look. "Did his lordship discuss this with you?"

The younger man shifted his feet, looking uncomfortable. "Yes, sir. He did, sir. He said he wanted it done immediately."

Simpson nodded, grim at the prospect of carrying out his lord's wishes. "Go and fetch Robbie from the stable then."

"What is it, Simpson?" Mrs. Biddleton demanded as Ned dashed back out the door. "What's going on?"

Simpson ignored her and turned to his two other footmen, seated at the table and watching with interest.




Carnal Knowledge Ch. 09-10



"Oliver, George, I need you both to come with me outside. The rest of you lot stay in here."

The two footmen stood, casting questioning glances at each other.

The butler sighed when Mrs. Biddleton followed them out the door, wishing he could command the housekeeper to stay in the house. She wouldn't like what was to come, that's for certain.

Minutes later, Ned and Robbie appeared from the direction of the stables. Robbie was unmistakable, even from a distance; the head groom was easily the largest, most muscular man on the entire estate. 

Simpson met them a short distance away from the others. Quietly and succinctly, the butler explained the letter, and the earl's instructions to Robbie. The other man looked puzzled for a moment, then broke out in a large grin and nodded.

Sighing again, Simpson gestured back at the others. "George, please step forward, if you will."

George complied, scowling darkly as he did so. "What the bleeding hell is going on, Simpson?"

Robbie stepped up to meet George, smiling broadly. With no hint of warning, the large groom reared his arm back and punched George in the face.

The other man reeled backward, stumbling. "What the devil!" George yelled.

Robbie shrugged and followed, grabbing George by the coat and jerking him upright. George gaped at him a moment as the groom continued to smile before slamming another fist into the footman's stomach.

"Christ," George groaned, slumping to the ground.

"Stop! Stop!" Mrs. Biddleton cried. "What's the meaning of this, Simpson? Why are you allowing this to happen?"

"Stand back, madam," Simpson ordered in a voice that brooked no argument.

To Ned and Robbie, Simpson said, "Lock him in the stable's storeroom when you're finished." 

The butler steeled himself to remain stoic as the groom kicked George viciously in the abdomen.

"Sorry, mate," Robbie said cheerfully. "It's compliments of his lordship."

***

Rockdale directed his carriage to take him to the larger townhouse in Mayfair that served as his primary residence in London.

After a quick cleanup and change of clothing, he set out for St. James Street where he had a feeling he might find the gentleman he sought.

Lord Pelham frequented Rockdale's own gentlemen's club; both men were long time members. Though Pelham was his uncle by marriage, Rockdale wouldn't have said they were particularly close, but their relationship was cordial. If luck was on his side, Rockdale would find Pelham happily imbibing brandy in their mutual club and then successfully convince the fellow that Miles Barlow—Lord Atherton, now—could never make a suitable husband for his daughter, Caroline.

Rockdale entered the club, glancing about through the men gathered inside drinking, smoking, and chatting. He nodded to acquaintances, not taking time to stop and speak to anyone.

At last he spied Pelham through a cloud of smoky haze and made his way over to a table in the back of the social room. Rockdale realized with a jolt of surprise the man sharing a table with him was none other than Atherton himself.

The two men looked up, startled, when Rockdale halted before their table.

Pelham beetled his wiry brows and pulled his cheroot from his mouth. "Evening, Rockdale."

Out of the corner of his eye Rockdale saw Atherton sit up straight and still.

"Rockdale," Atherton said coolly.

Rockdale refused to even acknowledge the younger man's presence. "Evening, Pelham. I need to speak to you privately."

Rockdale felt a comforting degree of petty satisfaction when Atherton's face reddened at the deliberate snub.

"Damnation, Rockdale." Pelham gestured around the table. "Why don't you just sit down here and have a drink with me and Atherton? I know full well you two are acquainted."

"Sorry, Uncle, this is a family matter."

Pelham lifted his brows upon being addressed as "Uncle," and Rockdale shrugged.

"Oh, very well," Pelham agreed at last with a grudging sigh and moved to heft himself to standing.

"No need," Atherton said stiffly and rose. "I'll leave."

"Well, sit down and quit looming over me, Rockdale," Pelham said irritably. "What the hell is it you need to speak to me so urgently about?"

Rockdale waited until Atherton had walked out of earshot. "Your wife and daughter recently dropped in for a visit at Verity Hall."

"Don't blame me," Pelham interjected. "You know that woman does as she pleases."

Rockdale waved a hand in dismissal. "Lady Pelham informed me that Atherton has asked for your daughter's hand in marriage."

Pelham took a drink of his brandy. "What of it? His pockets are rather slim, it's true, but you know how women go into a blather over a title. Caro seems in favor of the match and her mother as well."

"He's a blackguard who bedded my late wife while we were married." Rockdale spat the distasteful words in a low voice. "I also found letters from him after her death where he proposed they run away together." 

His uncle shifted uncomfortably. "If you couldn't satisfy your wife in bed..."

"He was supposed to be my friend!" Rockdale growled.

Pelham sighed and avoided meeting Rockdale's eye.

"I called the bastard out and would have killed him with bloody pleasure the following morning if Isabelle's carriage hadn't overturned—" Rockdale cut himself off, cursing himself for allowing his emotions to show.

"Rockdale..." Pelham began.

"He was nobody," Rockdale said icily. "He has inherited this title by some twist of fate, and I find it unacceptable."

"You're being ridiculous, man!"

"Listen to me, Pelham." Rockdale leaned closer, turning a flinty stare upon his uncle. "I fully intend to ruin Miles Barlow."

Pelham started to bluster, and Rockdale held up a quelling hand. "I would dislike hurting Caroline by association, but if I must—I will."

The older man stared back at him with narrowed eyes. "You're a right bastard, you know that, Rockdale?"

Rockdale stood and smoothed non-existent wrinkles from his evening coat. "So I've been told."

***

Eliza dreamt of the earl's laughing face and his warm naked skin sliding over hers as their limbs intertwined. His hand teased at the juncture of her thighs, and she moaned in encouragement, aching for him to touch her intimately.

"Please," she whispered.

"Miss?" a voice intruded. "Miss, it's time to get ready."

Eliza opened her eyes and groaned as the tapping at the door got louder.

"Come on now, miss. We have to get you ready and dressed, don't we?"

Eliza pushed unbound and unruly hair out of her face and tried to shake off the explicit dream. Her skin felt hot and sensitive against the blankets that had twisted around her body.

She extracted herself from the stubbornly clinging bedcovers and found herself gazing up at an unfamiliar young woman. 

The girl looked down at her expectantly. "I'm Jane," she said, grinning. "You'll have met my mum and dad earlier, the Crawleys, right?"

Eliza nodded and scrubbed at her face with both hands. This girl was far too cheery for her current state of mind.

"Um, yes," Eliza answered, feeling dull-witted. "I'm Eliza."

"Well, get up, sleepyhead!"

Under Jane's bullying, Eliza went to wash then settled down at the dressing table as the other woman instructed.

Jane's skills as a lady's maid were not to be disparaged, she soon discovered, as Eliza's hair was brushed, painstakingly curled, and woven into an intricate upswept arrangement with a center part. Golden ringlets framed Eliza's face, and one long curl was left to drape against her shoulder.

Jane frowned as she brushed a light hand over Eliza's throat. "Someone has hurt you," she said.

"Yes," Eliza answered with a lift of her chin. "But I gave him a hard knee in his bollocks."

Jane nodded. "Not his lordship," she said firmly. "Does the earl know?"

Eliza met the girls' eyes in the mirror. "Yes."

"I wouldn't want to be in that man's shoes," she said, opening a wooden box painted with flowers.

Eliza had never worn cosmetics before and watched with some wariness when Jane produced an assortment of small bottles and boxes. She first applied a light dusting of pearl powder to Eliza's face and throat. The powder enhanced the gleam of Eliza's skin and helped to disguise the ugly bruises on her neck.

Jane's deft hand applied a bit of carmine to Eliza's cheeks, a rosy dye on her lips, and subtle eye paint. She finished with a sweep of a burnt hairpin across Eliza's lashes, darkening them.

When Jane finally stepped back, Eliza felt almost as though a stranger was peering back at her in the mirror.

"You look lovely," Jane said with satisfaction.

"How did you learn all this working here with your parents?" Eliza marveled, still staring at her reflection.

Jane laughed. "Oh, I don't live here with Mum and Dad. I'm a real lady's maid, you see. I worked for Lady Augusta Ashefield for several years, but now she has left to marry some American upstart," she said with distaste. "So, I'm only here visiting until I find another position."

"Oh," Eliza murmured.

"Come now, let's get you dressed."

Eliza rose reluctantly. "But I'm sure I have nothing anything to wear," she protested.

"While you washed I laid the clothing his lordship brought you on the bed," Jane said, bustling over and sweeping a swath of material off the bed.

His lordship brought? Eliza's brow wrinkled as she approached the maid curiously.

In a smooth movement, Jane divested Eliza of her shift and settled what felt like a filmy cloud over her head.

It was both the strangest and most beautiful garment Eliza had ever seen. 

The material was a pearlescent, alabaster silk, so finely woven it was nearly transparent. The gossamer fabric skimmed and flowed over her body like a living, undulating thing.

It fastened with a filigree golden clasp over one shoulder like some sort of Roman toga, leaving her other shoulder and both arms bare. The neckline crossed daringly low in a diagonal over her bosom revealing an alarming amount of the side of her left breast. 

As she turned in front of the mirror Eliza realized that there were clever seams sewn into the gown to mold the bodice closely over her breasts, and the gown was tailored in such a way to allow the material to fall in artless drapes to the floor. To her astonishment, she saw the sides of the dress from her waist to the floor were completely open.

Jane slipped a snug gold belt around Eliza's middle that matched the filigree clasp.

"Where is the rest of my clothing for this evening?" Eliza asked, looking about the room.

Jane appeared a touch abashed. "There isn't any, miss."

"No drawers?" Eliza stared at the other girl in disbelief. "No actual dress to go over this?"

Jane patted her shoulder. "You look very beautiful," she assured her. "Let's get your slippers on."

At Jane's urging, Eliza donned delicate white slippers with long ribbons that laced up her calf and tied.

Eliza stepped back in front of the mirror and stared at her reflection in dismay.

The whole ridiculous garment could probably be dislodged by a strong wind, she vowed. It both covered and revealed every detail of her body with the rosy color of her nipples and dark gold of her nether curls clearly visible through the thin silk. For heaven's sake, there weren't even any stockings!

"Jane," Eliza said, trying to stay calm. "There must be more to the ensemble, surely. When I walk the sides flutter about, and you can see...that is...I don't think this was sewn at all correctly!"

Jane shrugged as the door to the chamber opened, and Rockdale sauntered in.

He stood and looked at her for several long moments.

"Damn it all to hell," he said finally, gritting his teeth.

Momentarily thrown off balance, Eliza forgot for a moment she was practically nude. "What?" she asked.

"I want to forget the damn ball and take you straight to bed."

"Rockdale!" Eliza hissed.

Jane giggled and winked at Eliza before she slipped quietly out the door.

"Christ almighty, woman. You look tasty enough to eat."

He circled her like a stalking cat, and Eliza fought the urge to try to cover herself with her hands. As much as this excuse for a dress exposed she'd likely need ten sets of hands anyway.

He toyed with the clasp at her shoulder, and she smacked his hand.

"Where did you get this...this thing I'm wearing," she demanded.

"Madame Bissette, of course," he said, grinning. "It's amazing how much work can be done with the correct incentive."

"Of course," Eliza said and sighed. "My lord, this is too scandalous, even for you. I cannot go out in attire like this. I simply can't."

"Darling," Rockdale said. "You will be fine. You must trust me."

Eliza was not at all reassured. "But..."

"Tell me, what do you think of this?" The earl asked, bringing forth a velvet bag.

Distracted, Eliza sucked in a breath as he pulled out a glittering necklace. It was a wide band of light blue stones and pearls woven into a setting of gold. She stood motionless, hardly breathing, as he moved behind her to fasten it around her neck.

They stood in front of the mirror; he behind her, tall and elegantly dressed in black and snowy white evening attire.

The choker fit closely, its unaccustomed weight cold and heavy around her throat. She raised a hand to touch it with an unsteady finger.

"It's stunning," she murmured.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "It will serve the purpose of covering up those bruises on your neck."

Rockdale nuzzled the sensitive skin behind her ear, and she shivered, feeling both skittish and vulnerable in her revealing outfit. His hands slid over her shoulders to cup her breasts, barely contained in the pearly sheen of fabric.

She felt him shudder as he caressed her, his thumbs finding her peaked nipples. Eliza stared at their reflection, helplessly aroused by the sight of his hands on her body, his darker skin and coloring a startling contrast to her own fair skin so thinly concealed that even the small mole on her hip was visible.

She angled her head to look back at him. "William, please," she entreated. "How can you expect me to go out dressed like this?"

"There's a cloak," he said soothingly. "Does that help?"

**********

 

Chapter 10

Nerves jittering, Eliza tugged the black velvet of her new sable-trimmed cloak closer around her while huddled once more in the earl's plush carriage.

Though the vehicle's interior was dim as they rattled down the road in the dark night to their unknown, at least to Eliza, destination, Rockdale's eyes seemed to glitter at her from the opposite seat.

Damn the man, she thought unsteadily, not for the first time since he had towed her out of the warm, relative sanctuary of the small townhouse and into his carriage.

"Stop worrying," Rockdale commanded. "Trust me to take care of everything."

She glared at him. Easy for him to say, wasn't it? He wasn't the one practically naked under a cloak. He wasn't the one everyone was going to see unclothed.

Oh, God... She blanched in terror and squeezed her eyes shut. How could this be happening?

Her head whipped around as the carriage began to slow and turn.

"Ah," Rockdale said in satisfaction. "I think we've arrived. You'll be perfectly safe tonight, but stay close to me, just in case."

"I can't do this!" Eliza wailed.

"You're a brave and beautiful woman. Of course, you can."

Short of clinging to the carriage handle and screaming for help—and wouldn't that make a grand spectacle—she had no option but to follow Rockdale as he firmly took her hand and exited the vehicle.

They alighted the carriage in front of a sedate manor house, its aged-stone façade and brightly lit windows a contrast to the wild, sordid expectations of Eliza's imagination.

"I almost forgot something," Rockdale said, reaching inside his evening coat.

He held up a white silk mask, studded with gleaming pearls. "Let's get this on you, shall we?"

Wordlessly, she let him tie the mask on, convinced the woman she knew had now been completely overtaken by an impostor. 

The front door swept open grandly to admit them, and Eliza swallowed hard; her mouth suddenly felt dry as though it had been coated with ashes.

They were greeted by two extraordinarily tall footmen in gleaming livery. Eliza could hear the distant sound of voices, laughter, and music, and she glanced around nervously, relieved to see no shocking behavior in sight as of yet.

She clutched her cloak tightly, desperate to hang on to it as long as possible.

Her hopes were immediately dashed as Rockdale himself reached over to unfasten the cloak and drew it off, handing it away to one of the footmen.

Eliza gritted her teeth against the almost overwhelming urge to snatch her cloak back. 

Practically nude in front of these strange men, she could plainly see and almost physically feel their eyes traveling her form. Were they not supposed to act more chivalrous than this? She longed to shout at Rockdale to make the footmen stop their slow perusal.

He didn't, however. Eliza raised her chin and pointedly stared at her devilish escort.

The footmen bowed. "My lord, my lady, please enjoy your evening," one of them intoned.

The earl smiled slightly and offered Eliza his arm.

"They're still watching you," Rockdale murmured as he escorted her to ascend the curving staircase.

"Undoubtedly getting a good show," Eliza said with resignation. "Shall I waggle my backside as well?"

"Darling, I've watched your arse enough to know it waggles quite enticingly all on its own. But please, feel free to waggle more if you desire. Just keep in mind, they have to stay on duty the rest of the evening and not rush away to some darkened corner to relieve what must be a painful stiffness in their breeches."

Eliza stifled the strange urge to giggle and looked back despite herself.

One footman stood at the bottom of the stairs avidly watching their climb, his eyes locked on her retreating bottom. Her own eyes dropped to the unmistakable bulge at his groin, the man's tightly fitted breeches and waist-length coat doing nothing to disguise the shape of his burgeoning cock.

Eliza sucked in a breath when the footman caught her watching him. He slid his hand down to stroke himself, and he winked cheekily at her.

Rockdale tugged at her arm to get her moving upward again. "Told you," he said smugly.

The doors to the ballroom were opened by yet another smartly dressed footman. Rockdale held her arm in an unbreakable grip as he ushered her inside the room. When they entered, immediately the din of voices audibly lessened, and heads began to turn.

 Good heavens.  There were people everywhere. Breathless, Eliza's head swiveled to and fro as she tried to absorb her surroundings.

Eliza realized with a frisson of shock that the servers mingling through the crowd with refreshments were almost completely nude. Both male and female, they balanced large trays, clad only in loin cloths with gold bands encircling their ankles, wrists, and necks.

"Dear lord," Eliza murmured. "They're dressed like slaves!"

The guests were attired in scandalous states of dress and undress. There were outlandish costumes mixed with clothing that ranged the full gamut of lavish ball gowns and evening finery to scraps of lace and silk and exposed corsets. Most of the attendants were masked, some with simple dominos and some wearing elaborate masks with beads and feathers.

"Ho, Rockdale! I hadn't thought to see you tonight."

Eliza turned as an elegant older man with graying dark hair approached to clap Rockdale on the shoulder.

"Haven't seen you here in some time," the man said, glancing down at Eliza. "Perhaps this lovely flower is the reason." He winked suggestively, his eyes glinting over her with appreciation.

"Evening, Sinclair," Rockdale said. "Hope you don't mind us attending your fête unannounced."




Carnal Knowledge Ch. 09-10



"Not at all, old man. You have a standing invitation, don't you know."

"Rockdale!" a husky female voice cried.

Eliza watched with some bemusement as a scantily clad young woman launched herself into the earl's arms and proceeded to devour his mouth passionately.

"Violet," Sinclair murmured after a few moments. "Lord Rockdale has a companion tonight."

Violet slowly broke her kiss with Rockdale, whom, Eliza noted, did not seem to be protesting overly much. Her dark curls of hair tumbled in abandon over her shoulders and back, looking much like a gentleman had rumpled it recently. 

The sloe-eyed beauty wore a silvery-satin corset laced tightly to showcase her tiny waist. Edged in black lace, the corset pushed her bosom up into a deep cleavage but left her breasts entirely exposed. The material molded closely over her shapely hips but below the lace hem of the corset, Eliza noticed with a jolt, Violet was nude. Even her mons Venus was bare; the gently rounded mound appeared smooth and hairless as a young girl's.

Eliza jerked her eyes away, hoping the mask disguised her shock. Rockdale watched her closely, and she hoped he couldn't discern the direction of her perusal.

Violet spun to face Eliza. "Oh," she said with wonder, reaching out to stroke Eliza's single, long curl. "She's so lovely!"

Eliza jumped in surprise and sidled closer to Rockdale when Violet's fingers lightly traced over her silk-clad breasts.

"Lord Sinclair, Violet," Rockdale said, "I'd like to introduce you to my friend, Rose. She's very shy, so treat her gently, if you will."

Eliza's eyes darted to Rockdale at his use of a false name.

"Rose, I'd like for you to meet the lord of this estate, Lord Sinclair. This exquisite lady is his companion, Violet."

"I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Rose," Lord Sinclair murmured, eyes twinkling as he reached for Eliza's hand and lifted it to his mouth.

"Likewise, my lord," Eliza said, feeling self-conscious as he lingered over her hand.

"Is the tour going on tonight?" Rockdale asked.

"Of course," Sinclair replied, finally releasing Eliza's hand. "It should be available in a few moments; you remember the routine."

"Excellent," Rockdale said. "Excuse us, won't you, please?"

"What kind of tour?" Eliza asked in a low voice as she and Rockdale took their leave and crossed the ball room, skirting the area where several couples were dancing. It was hard to miss the men and women staring at them, some of the gazes lustful and some merely curious.

"More of a show than a tour, I suppose," he replied. "You'll see for yourself soon enough."

Rockdale retrieved two glasses of wine from a smiling slave girl server, and Eliza gratefully gulped hers down.

"Bosoms bobbing out at me everywhere," she muttered.

The earl chuckled and offered her his own glass. "Thirsty or building courage?"

She accepted his glass and downed it as well. "Both," she answered shortly.

After discarding the empty glasses, Rockdale led her to another door leading out of the ballroom. One of the servers, this one male, stood outside the door.

"Good evening, my lord," the man said, bowing. "Would you and your lady like to take the tour?"

"Yes," Rockdale answered. "May we enter now?"

The server opened the door. "Right this way, my lord. Please enjoy."

Eliza's heart thudded as Rockdale led her into a darkened hallway. There was no one else inside, only a series of room doors, all closed.

They paused in front of the first door, and Rockdale rapped on it. Eliza's fingers flexed on the earl's arm, and she wondered nervously who would open the door. But to her surprise, no one did.

Rockdale moved a few paces past the door and paused in front of a large, rather innocuous painting of crimson roses. To Eliza's surprise, he grasped one side of the painting's frame and lifted. The frame opened away from the wall in a soundless motion, exposing a hinged attachment and an opening presumably into the room within.

"How peculiar," Eliza murmured, stepping closer to glimpse what or who might be within, only to see the inside was veiled from view by a heavy red curtain.

"What—," Eliza tried to ask, but Rockdale shushed her.

"Just watch quietly."

With a small huff, she turned her attention back to the red curtain.

The curtain began to draw back slowly, revealing a sizable chamber opulently draped in rich tapestries and luxuriant furs. In the center of the room, there was a raised dais with an enormous armless chair that resembled a throne. Its gleaming golden surface was crusted in gems and pearls.

As they watched, a large, imposing male dressed in elaborate robes and wearing a gold crown entered the room from somewhere in the back. He was followed by two muscular men dressed in old-fashioned warrior garb of leather and light armor.

Eliza frowned as the man mounted the dais and settled into the throne. He waved a scepter at one of his attendants. 

Was this some sort of play, she wondered. What could be the purpose in this?

A third armored attendant came into view gripping the arm of a woman dressed as some sort of medieval peasant. Her white, ruffled blouse was torn at the sleeve, and she visibly trembled as the guard towed her in front of the dais.

Rockdale shifted directly behind Eliza and bent his head to whisper in her ear. "Don't fret, it's all for show."

Eliza found herself holding her breath and tried to relax as the guard released the woman's arm and stepped back. The king looked the peasant woman over for a long moment. 

Nibbling her bottom lip, Eliza shivered slightly in her thin gown. Rockdale's body felt warm and reassuring behind her, and she fought the urge to lean back against him.

The king gave another imperious dip of his scepter. The woman shook her head, her long ash-blonde braid swaying down her back.

Scowling, the king gestured toward his attendant. The man unsheathed the nasty-looking sword at his side and brandished it toward the woman.

The peasant woman cast her eyes toward the floor and slowly began to unlace the ties of her white blouse. Once undone, she tugged it over her head and cast it to the side.

The king's scepter moved again, and her fingers went to the fastenings of her long brown skirt, loosening them until the rough fabric slithered to her feet.

Left in a simple shift to shield her body from the eyes of the king and his men, the woman lifted her chin proudly.

Leering openly, the king leaned forward on his throne and pointed his scepter at her once more.

Slowly, the woman gathered the folds of material in her hands and skimmed her shift upward, revealing shapely long legs and a plump bottom. Her full breasts came into view as she pulled the shift over her head and tossed it to the floor.

Eliza's breath came faster, even though she knew the scene was all pretend. Rockdale's hand glided over her hip, making her shiver.

"What do you think the king intends now?" Rockdale murmured into her ear.

His warm breath stirred the sensitive small hairs around her ear and neck. Almost imperceptibly she felt Rockdale drawing her closer back against him and pressing her closer to the wall.

By all rights she should have felt trapped, but scene playing before her held her rapt as the king again motioned with his scepter toward the peasant woman.

She looked to refuse, but the armored guard, his sword still at the ready, urged the captive forward. Her steps hesitant, the woman mounted the dais and halted before the king.

The king pointed to the floor.

Eliza could see the flush coloring the woman's pale skin as she went to her knees in front of the throne.

A lascivious smile lit the king's face as he crooked his finger at the woman. Prodded by the guard behind her, she obediently shuffled closer until she knelt between his thighs.

The king drew his robes open wide, and the captive woman stared as though transfixed at his erect, exposed phallus. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and again she shook her head vehemently.

His smile turning unpleasant, the king seized the peasant woman's long braid and wrapped it several times around his hand. His other hand grasped his cock as he urged the woman's head down.

Eliza couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight of the woman opening her mouth to accept the swollen cockhead between her lips. The king groaned audibly, the first sound any of the actors had made in the strange erotic play.

Gooseflesh erupted over Eliza's body. Rockdale's fingers played lightly over her breasts, caressing her already stiff nipples. The rasp of his evening clothes against the thin barrier of her silk-encased skin increased the sensations already flowing over her body.

The king was using his grip on her hair to dictate the woman's motions as his cock worked in and out of her mouth.

With a nod from the king, the guard closest to the peasant woman went to one knee close behind her. The captive jerked in surprise, her hands flailing as his gloved hands reached around to fondle and cup her bare breasts.

The king growled as his cock popped out of her mouth. He gestured at the guard, who grabbed hold of the captive's hands and secured them behind her back with a length of thin rope he pulled from this belt.

The woman squirmed as the guard pushed her knees further apart and slid one gloved hand between her legs from behind. Her eyes were wide upon the king's lust-filled face as he tightened his grip on her braid and thrust himself back into her mouth.

Arousal tingled between Eliza's legs. It was sinful to watch such a debauched scene, she knew it was. But something about the dominant men surrounding the submissive, kneeling woman triggered a shameful reaction inside her she couldn't seem to deny.

Look away, she ordered herself. Demand the earl take you back outside...anything... 

The guard's gloved hand worked between the peasant woman's legs, stroking her until she began making small noises around the king's cock. The guard used his other hand on her breasts, the black leather stark against her white flesh as he ruthlessly plucked the dark-pink tips.

Eliza's breathing deepened. Was it her lessons with Rockdale that made this shocking display so exciting to her? Or had the inclination already been there, hidden, until a certain wicked earl had introduced her to a carnal education the likes of which she could have never before imagined.

Rockdale's hand slid from her hip through the thatch of dampened curls between her legs. She heard the hiss of his exhale as his fingers discovered just how deeply she was affected.

His beard-roughened jaw nuzzled her neck, his dark, low chuckle vibrated across her skin. His tongue began to lap at her throat above the choker necklace while his fingers danced across the sensitive flesh at the apex of her inner labia.

"Oh, William," Eliza whispered when he dipped into her wetness and delicately painted her small bud with the slickness.

Inside the chamber the king had pulled his cock from the peasant woman's mouth. The guard pulled her roughly to standing and lifted her astride the king's lap.

The woman's eyes drifted closed as the king positioned her over his cock. Her long, keening moan was audible as the thick shaft penetrated and disappeared inside her.

Eliza panted softly, watching the king fuck the peasant woman with her hands tied behind her back, his hand still gripping her braid, tugging her head back.

Rockdale's fingers stroked her to a feverish high, his hips pushing her flush up against the wall, the press of his cock unmistakable. Eliza's sense of decorum and dignity had deserted her, leaving sheer instinct in control. She rubbed her bottom wantonly against his hardness, relishing the feel of Rockdale's desire for her. 

Some unseen communication between the king and his guard had them lifting the woman up and turning her so that she faced away from the king. He quickly sheathed himself between her thighs once more, her breasts bouncing as he thrust repeatedly, his hands holding tight to her hips.

The guard, standing before the king and his captive, quickly loosened the ties of his breeches and pulled his own cock out. He stroked it up and down, masturbating himself while watching the king impale his subject. Stepping forward, it was now he who wound his hand in the woman's braid, forcing her to bend forward.

Shock reverberated through Eliza as she watched the woman open her mouth and the guard pushed his cock inside. While the king pummeled her sex from behind, the guard eagerly thrust his shaft between her lips.

Her body strung tightly as a piano string, Eliza writhed back against the hard solidness of Rockdale's tall body. She felt more than heard him growl as his free hand jerked at the clasp at her shoulder. The robe fell down to her waist with a whisper of sliding fabric. His hand sought the curves of her bare breasts, his touch rough as he fondled her.

Her senses enflamed with a strange mad yearning, she gloried in the tightness of Rockdale's grip, his teeth scraping over her jaw, the harsh rasp of his breath in her ear.

Her climax tantalizingly close, Eliza writhed in Rockdale's arms, unable to tear her gaze away from the two men simultaneously thrusting their cocks into the bound peasant woman.

Rockdale withdrew his fingers from between her legs, making her whimper in protest. 

She turned in his close embrace to face him, her arms sliding around his neck and pulling him down toward her. Eliza pressed her open mouth to his, desperate to taste him. He obliged her with a possessive stab of his tongue as his head slanted over hers.

His hands roamed hot and familiar over her body as he plundered her mouth. Rockdale clutched the cheeks of her arse, dragging her tight up against his cock.

She rubbed against him, wild and unashamed; her inhibitions completely lost in the midst of her hunger for this man who endeavored to drive her mad at every turn.

Rockdale seemed as overtaken as she felt herself. He shoved her back up against the wall, his cheeks flushed. He released her mouth to lick and bite his way down her chest, cupping her breasts together and feasting at her nipples with tugs of his lips and teeth, drawing the tips into his mouth for a rough suckling.

"Yes, yes," Eliza chanted, tunneling her hands into his thick hair, pressing him closer to her breasts.

He abruptly bent, lifting her bodily up into his arms.

She gasped as he strode a short distance down the hall to a doorway at the end. He let her down and wrenched open the door, hard enough to practically tear the thing off its hinges. Grabbing her arm, he propelled her inside with him and slammed the door shut.

Breathing heavy, he stared at her, unsmiling.

Eliza swallowed hard, a trickle of trepidation finding its way down her spine. His face was harsh and predatory in the dim lighting.

Some instinct she didn't know she possessed had her turn away from him, taking a few steps inside the room which appeared to be a small bedchamber.

She looked back at him over her shoulder and slowly unfastened the gold belt around her waist. The robe slithered the rest of the way to the floor.

Eliza felt a thrill of pleasure as his eyes widened in surprise.

He crossed the short distance between them, and Eliza fought the urge to back away. Instead, she listened to the instinct still whispering in her ear and sank to her knees before him, positioning herself as he had taught her.

"Oh, what a good girl you are," he murmured, circling around her.

His low words touched something dark and forbidden inside her, something that desired above all things to please him.

"Thank you, my lord," she whispered.

Rockdale's hand slid over her bare shoulder, and she leaned further over, presenting herself prostrate to him, holding her bottom high.

She heard his shuddering breath as he exhaled.

"Don't move," he instructed, his voice gruff.

She heard rustling behind her and knew he was removing his clothes. Shivers of anticipation coursed over her. She could hardly wait to feel his naked skin against her own.

"What do you want, Eliza?"

He wanted to ask her questions now? When she felt as though she might burst if she didn't soon ease the ache between her legs?

"Please, my lord," she moaned, pressing her thighs together vainly.

His finger trailed down her spine, sending a jolt of pure heat to her groin.

"Tell me," he commanded.

"I want you," she answered impatiently, caught between frustration and need.

"To do what?" he pressed.

"I burn, William. Please touch me, don't stop touching me," she begged. "I need you inside me."

Rockdale drew her up off the floor to standing.

"I'm going to give my good girl what she needs," he growled, pulling her hard into his arms.

She melted into his embrace, eagerly opening her mouth for the kisses he fed her.

"Go lie on the bed and spread your legs wide for me," he whispered against her lips.

Acutely conscious of his hot, dark eyes tracking her, Eliza obeyed, stretching herself over the satiny red counterpane, legs splayed wide, exposing her damp center.

In an instant, he was there kneeling on the bed between her legs. He pressed his mouth to the tender flesh that wept for him, spreading the lips of her mons wide with his thumbs.

The shock of sensation became maddeningly intense when his tongue rasped repeatedly over her pearl, lashing and laving it both the tip and flat of his clever tongue.

Without warning, his finger pressed against and into her slickened opening. The blunt, sudden penetration ratcheted the gathering tension within her to an impossibly-high pinnacle as fiery bolts of lightning streaked from her inner passage to pulsate deep inside her body.

Eliza thrashed on the bed, her need for release all consuming. The world outside of Rockdale's mouth upon her sex fell away. A hoarse cry burst from her lips, and she rocked her hips wildly against his mouth and tongue.

He held her hips down as he continued to devour her; she shuddered uncontrollably as the tumult built. She babbled and panted, begging him not to stop. Two of his fingers now stabbed inside her as he lifted his head slightly.

His wicked, knowing smile was brief before he lowered his head once more.

Eliza jerked helplessly as his tongue swept across her spread labia from bottom to top before settling again on her most sensitive spot, sucking lightly before lapping it over and over.

The air around her ears seemed to strangely buzz for a few beats as the delicious tension finally peaked—hovering, rippling, and then crashing over her in a dizzying rush of pleasure.

High-pitched cries and moans she couldn't contain streamed from her lips as Rockdale continued to use his fingers and mouth between her legs while she rode out the mind-bending climax.

And in that heart-shattering moment of time, Eliza suddenly gained an understanding of why all those men and women had flocked to this sinful gathering tonight. It became clear why seemingly good, decent girls ended up with ripe, rounded bellies before the union had been sanctioned in a church. She could finally see why marriages waxed and waned, why men sought mistresses, and why women took lovers on the sly.

She watched, panting desperately for air, as the large male who had wrought this destruction of mind and body upon her reared up between her splayed thighs.

He looked too handsome to be real—his hair rumpled and those bottomless, intense eyes intent upon her face as he crawled over her.

"William," she whispered in a broken voice.

"I know, sweetheart," he crooned, smoothing ringlets back from her damp face. "I know."

She felt shattered like a carelessly dropped teacup, her pieces fragmented and tossed about. Her defenses and her sense of self-possession had all been stripped away leaving her raw and trembling.




Carnal Knowledge Ch. 09-10



He covered her body with his, claiming her lips in a gentle but heated kiss. His cock nudged insistently at her spread inner labia, its entry eased by her slick arousal.

***

Rockdale pressed his forehead against Eliza's, sweat dripping off his face onto hers as he penetrated her tight body, his breath hitching when he pressed his full length inside.

He was undone by her unexpected surrender to him. What an unexpected delight she was in every way. Never before had he bedded a woman who came to him with an unfettered passion that matched his own.

Her sweet but sultry spirit fed his desire like a potent aphrodisiac and never failed to surprise him. And strangely, she evoked an unfamiliar tenderness that he had never before experienced.

He rained kisses over her face, his gut twisting with something more than mere lust. She stared up at him with wide eyes, lips parted and swollen from his kisses.

Though part of him now acknowledged he had been wrong to force her into a sexual relationship, he selfishly did not regret it. He was fiercely glad to have been the man to take her maidenhead, the first to stroke her to climax, the first to put her submissive and kneeling on the floor.

And the last man, some stubborn voice inside his head insisted.

Rockdale shied away from this troubling thought, but the words spilled from his mouth anyway. 

"This is where I belong," he said staring down at her, shocked to feel himself trembling. "Inside you. Always."

His hips pumped with a relentless hunger, filling her repeatedly, fucking her with her cock.

"You know it, too, don't you, darling?" he demanded, half expecting her to deny him.

"Yes," she murmured, her arms lifting and encircling his neck. "Yes."

Heady satisfaction mixed with the lust coursing through his blood. The tenderness was fading to a clamoring need to claim her in a primitive, animalistic way.

He disengaged her arms from around his neck and sat back, pulling his erection from the clinging sweetness of her body.

"Turn over," he ordered.

Without a word she complied, rolling over onto her front.

Grabbing handfuls of her delectable arse, he straddled her thighs impatiently, his body thrumming with the need to get his cock back inside her. He heard her sharp intake of breath when he spread the cheeks of her bottom apart, seeing the rosy bud of her fundament and the glistening folds of her quim.

He grasped her hips, canting her up slightly to get the angle he needed. She shuddered beneath him as his cock breeched her sex from behind.

Leaning over her prone torso, he pumped hard and fast against her buttocks. "Give me your hands," he rasped.

Eliza shifted, sliding her hands from near her head, down toward her stomach.

Rockdale took her wrists and pulled her slim arms behind her back. Holding her thus, he unleashed the full power of his desire upon her, hammering his cock inside.

She was so beautiful, so perfect, her curves and softness; the want of her flowed over him like an unquenchable desire. He licked his lips, the sweet combined nectar of her mouth and cunt lingering on his tongue.

Her keening moans filtered through his haze of lust and he realized she was pushing her hips back against him in an effort to meet his thrusts. Her eyes were closed, but a light flush and sheen of sweat covered her satiny skin.

Rockdale remembered calling her a slut and shook his head, now realizing what a gift to him her burgeoning sexuality was.

He released her hands and slid his hand between the cheeks of her bottom, dipping his thumb into her wetness where she was stretched to accommodate his girth. She stilled when his thumb gently rubbed over the entrance to her bottom.

"Rockdale!" she gasped when he pressed down slightly, still fucking her with his cock.

"Shhh," he soothed, continuing to play with her tight opening. "Do you trust me, Eliza?"

"I—well—yes," she answered, her voice almost a sob.

"That's my good girl," he said, using more of her creamy juice to lubricate before slowly penetrating her with his forefinger.

"William," she whimpered. "That feels...so strange. I don't know if...oh!"

Her whimpering increased as he began to pump her harder.

She came again with a high-pitched squeal, her little arse quivering and flexing against him while Rockdale rammed inside her cunt forcefully, groaning at the rhythmic ripples of her muscles tightening around him when she found her climax.

Heart thundering, he grasped her waist and pounded her rump furiously until he found his own powerful release, grunting as his cock jerked and erupted deep within her.

Rockdale panted raggedly, his hips still spasming over her bottom. "Damn," he mumbled and collapsed boneless beside Eliza's unmoving form.

He was about to check to see if she was still breathing when a knock at the door startled them both.

Flushed and delightfully rumpled, Eliza sat up, looking alarmed.

"I guess our time in here is up," Rockdale drawled, rising from the bed.

"Our time?" Eliza echoed. She glanced around and jumped up.

"William!" she gasped. "Can other people see us?"

"Oh," he said. "Er, probably...actually..."

"Oh, MY GOD!" she wailed, throwing her hands up to her face. "My mask!"

"It's still on your head, darling. Just pull it down."

He poured some water from the ewer into the bowl, eyeing her when she hurried over to her crumpled gown and muttered about losing her slippers.

"No one probably has any interest in us," he tried to assure her. "Here, come wash up."

He tried unsuccessfully to swallow a grin when she spied her reflection in a mirror hanging near the bed. 

"Oh, MY GOD! I look a complete fright! What did you do to me?" she demanded.

"If you have to ask, I evidently didn't do it well enough."

She marched over and snatched the cloth out of his hands. "This is no time for your clever remarks," she said, dampening the cloth and wiping at the smudged paint on her face.

"No one's going to be looking at your face overly much while you're wearing that gown," he said helpfully.

Her answering glare spoke volumes.

Several more minutes had passed before they had both washed and redressed. Rockdale found the missing slipper under the bed and escorted his lady out of the private area, much too relaxed and sated to be bothered by her displeasure.

Rockdale had discovered that under her prickly exterior was a woman of rare sensuality. He was determined to strip away her outer layers until she had yielded to him every bit of her hidden lustful nature.

In all his years of unhappy marriage and futile searching he had finally found a sexual partner who was a proper foil to him. He really should send Harry Cavendish one of his best horses as thanks—perhaps a cask of fine brandy from his cellar...

"Stop looking so pleased with yourself," Eliza said crossly.

"You certainly weren't saying stop a short while ago," he replied with a wink. "In fact, if my memory serves, you were moaning something along the lines of—"

"Oh, do be quiet!"

They exited the darkened hallway back into the brightly-lit ballroom. A hush fell over the people congregating nearby, and Rockdale wondered uneasily just how many of them had watched him and Eliza in the bedroom.

"Excellent show, Rockdale!" a voice boomed out, its owner a portly gentleman very familiar to Rockdale.

The earl froze, certain his good evening had just come to an unpleasant halt.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rockdale saw Eliza become very still and her fingers clenched his arm.

"G'evening, Harry," Rockdale said slowly. "I thought you were traveling abroad with your family."

"I left 'em in Venice," Sir Harold Cavendish explained. "All those boats and Italians just ain't natural."

Rockdale blinked.

"Well, well," Cavendish continued. "I see you've been busy with our governess." He leered at Eliza's breasts. "I knew she was ripe for the picking, but I never thought she'd take to a good fucking like THAT. Damnation, man, I nearly spent in my breeches watching you work her over."

"Keep your voice down, for God's sake," Rockdale growled, his fist clenching with the urge to slam it into his friend's face.

"Why?" Cavendish asked. "Everyone else was enjoying the show as well."

The older man shrugged. "It seems to me you owe your good friend some time with her, seeing as how I was the one who sent her your way. What do you say, Rockdale? Will you let Harry dip into this little honey pot?"

Even with her mask in place, Rockdale could see Eliza's face had gone from flaming crimson to frighteningly devoid of color.

His gut filled with a sickening fury, and he inwardly cursed. Damn Harry for showing up here!

"Let's go somewhere private to discuss this, shall we?" Rockdale said through gritted teeth. If nothing else, he would make certain the lecher would never lay a finger on Eliza.

"I'll oblige you, Sir Cavendish," Eliza spoke up suddenly, her voice cloyingly sweet. "I've been looking so forward to seeing you again." She smiled and stepped forward, the intimate details of her lush body quite clear through the thin silk.

"See, Rockdale?" Cavendish said smugly. "She wants to show old Harry a bit of what she's learned."

Eliza's eyes were fixed on Harry, and her smile boded something unpleasant. 

Oh, shit, Rockdale thought uneasily.



Carnal Knowledge Ch. 11-12



Dear Readers,

Thank you so much for your kind words and support for my story. You all have been the encouragement for me to keep moving forward, even when I have gotten frustrated and discouraged. I read every comment (good and bad, haha!) and every email you send.

I do apologize for making you wait so long.

I wish to offer a special thank you to MasterfulJim for answering my pestering questions in the name of research. :)

All my love,

Emmeline

****************************

Chapter 11

George sprawled on the dirt floor of the stable's store room. He shifted against the rough wooden wall he leaned against and grimaced in pain. His body felt as though that ham-fisted son of a bitch had cracked every bone he had.

The rasp of the door lock turning seemed loud in the silence of the dark, small room. The pale face of his aunt filled the door opening.

"George," she called softly. "Are you hurt badly?"

Shame and bitterness at the unfairness of his wretched situation roiled in his gut. "What do you care?" he said with a sullen edge. "You sure didn't do a damned thing to help me."

"And what could I do, pray tell?" she returned, pushing the door open wider with a protesting squawk of hinges. "I've brought you a blanket and some bread, you ungrateful lout." She stepped inside and eased the door closed once more before setting her items down at his feet.

George turned his face to the wall to avoid the beam of lantern light she turned in his direction. "It's your fault I'm in this mess," he accused.

"It is not!" Mrs. Biddleton snapped. "I was watching for you to bring the little trollop inside. You weren't supposed to try to get under her skirts out in the gardens then lose hold of her. You've no one to blame but yourself."

George glared back. He couldn't believe the governess had spilled her guts to the earl after he'd warned her not to, the stupid cow. And it galled him to no end that Lord Rockdale had arranged to have him beaten and locked up, merely by her word.

"The earl's too high and mighty to even come speak to me man to man," George muttered. "He might think he's got me beaten down, but I'm not going to stand for it," His hands balled into fists. "And as for the girl...just wait until I get my hands on her again."

Mrs. Biddleton cast her eyes upward. "Don't be any more of an idiot than you already are, boy. And don't mention my name to Lord Rockdale. There's no need for both of us to lose our positions."

George's narrowed gaze turned crafty. "You'd better be getting me out of here in a hurry then, shouldn't you? Who knows what I might tell his lordship."

His aunt shook her head dismissively and dusted her hands off. "Robbie and Ned are taking turns watching the stable doors. I don't think they're just going to let you just walk out, lad," She turned to leave.

"Wait," he said.

She sighed and turned back reluctantly.

"Find a way to get me out of this god-forsaken hole, or I will tell his lordship that it was your plan for me to bed his tart where he would see it."

"You wouldn't dare!"

George slumped back against the wall once more. "Just get me out," he snarled. "Or you'll be sorry you didn't."

***

Eliza shook off Rockdale's restraining hand on her shoulder. "Is there somewhere more private we can go?" she asked Sir Harold huskily.

"Eliza..." Rockdale's soft growl held more than a hint of warning.

Sir Harold licked his lips and reached for Eliza's elbow. "Alcove at the back."

Dimly aware of Rockdale stalking behind, Eliza allowed the older man to propel her across the ballroom. Her focus had narrowed down to a sole view of the man she had considered most of her life to be a dear friend of her father's. An icy calm settled over her but underneath the thin veneer of ice burned a vengeful fury sparked by the flames of hurt and betrayal.

"Eliza!" Rockdale's emphatic voice cracked like a whip. "I forbid you to—"

She cast a quick look back at the earl and raised her brows. "Forbid me to what, my lord? Act like a strumpet? Isn't that what this evening was all about?"

"Damn it, woman," he cursed. "No."

Reaching a back corner of the ballroom partially concealed by a tied-back curtain, Sir Harold lowered himself into one of a small grouping of chairs.

"Perhaps we can have her both at once, Rockdale," the older man proposed, tugging Eliza down into his lap. "I saw two men use a whore together once at a bawdyhouse, you know. Never taken a gel up the arse myself, but I wouldn't mind at all which hole I got to stick my cock into."

A wave of nausea at the eager, hungry glint in the man's eyes threatened to overwhelm her, but Eliza forced herself to remain still and fight her revulsion. Rockdale stood nearby, glaring at the two of them as though steam might roll from his ears at any moment. His hands clenched and opened repeatedly. She half-expected him to haul her bodily away from Sir Harold—whether for the older man's safety or Eliza's own, she wasn't sure. 

"I used to dandle you upon my knee when you were younger," Sir Harold murmured while sliding his hand familiarly over her hip. "Do you remember?

"Oh, yes," Eliza answered. "I remember...my sister, also."

His breathing increased to a noisy rasp. "Sweet, lovely Abigail. A darling bud right on the cusp of blooming into full womanhood."

Eliza flinched at the twitch of his cock underneath her bottom. Oh, dear God, how she longed for a blade to stab into his black, perverted heart. Never more in her life had she wished for a sharp implement by which to inflict bodily harm.

Ah, well, she thought darkly. One must use what means one had at hand.

Eliza slithered off Sir Harold's lap and knelt on the floor before him. She fixed him with a wide-eyed gaze and slowly trailed her finger over her bottom lip. "Shall I show you what a good student I've been?"

"Don't," Rockdale bit out. He stepped forward but halted when she flicked him a narrow gaze. The earl plowed a hand through his hair and glowered at her.

Sir Harold fumbled in his haste to open the buttons of his trousers. "I can't tell you how long I've desired to see you properly educated in the art of—"

He broke off, gasping in alarm when Eliza roughly grabbed hold of his stubby length. 

"Gently, my dear!" he panted.

Teeth bared, she used her free hand to jerk with all her might at the opening in his smallclothes.

Sir Harold squeaked when the thin linen noisily ripped wide. "Good heavens! What the devil have you taught her?"

Rockdale sighed and rubbed his face with one hand. "I'm not quite sure, but I have to tell you, it's far more pleasant to watch from over here."

Abandoning Sir Harold's quickly deflating cock, Eliza seized his hairy bollocks with both hands. She was rewarded with a high-pitched squeal of dismay from the man to whom they were attached.

"Release me, you she-wolf!" Sir Harold gasped. "Rockdale, control your wench!"

"Sorry, Harry, but I rather prefer my cods where they are. I think you're on your own for this."

"Tell me, Sir Harold," Eliza asked, tightening her grip, "have you touched my sister in an unchaste manner?"

"No—no!" he cried, squirming in his chair. "Not that I wouldn't like to—ieeeee! No! Never! I wouldn't lay a finger on the girl!"

"See that you don't." Eliza leaned forward and let all the menace she felt bubbling up inside coat her words. "I will find a way to hurt you if you so much as go near my mother or my sister. Do you understand?"

"Quite so!" he grunted, his face pale and gleaming with perspiration.

"Excellent," she said. "Now, I wish for you to explain to me how you could possibly send the daughter of your supposed dear friend into a position that you knew was not merely to be a governess."

"Please," Sir Harold whimpered. "You're going to permanently damage my—ieee!"

"I am going to squeeze until they COME OFF if you do not tell me to my satisfaction!" Eliza hissed.

"Saints preserve me," Cavendish wheezed, casting his eyes wildly about. "It's his fault!" he glared to the side at Rockdale. "I owed the earl a favor...I knew he was drunk when he was babbling about acquiring a virgin to educate, but I thought it would be a grand lark—ieee! Damn it, you bitch!"

"I considered you like an uncle," she said in a low tone. "Did you ever have a second thought about sending me into the den of the devil?" Eliza firmed her lips to keep them from trembling. "I trusted you!"

She saw Rockdale twitch out of the corner of her eye, but Eliza kept her gaze centered on Cavendish.

Sir Harold flushed, though whether from chagrin or pain, Eliza couldn't have said.

"I thought it would be good for you!" he cried. "Everyone could see what a cold little fish you were. It ain't natural for a gel that looks like you to be hidden away at home!"

"Oh," Eliza said thoughtfully. "I see...you thought it would be good to ruin my life and turn me into an earl's whore?"

"Eliza, for God's sake!" Rockdale interjected, reaching out for her arm.

Her head whipped to the side. "Stay out of this!"

"I supplied you with the means to support your mother and sister!" Sir Harold returned indignantly.

Eliza's laugh had an ugly undertone. "I suppose you think I should be grateful!" She dug her fingers deeper into his saggy flesh and twisted.

Sir Harold's eyes rolled back in his head. "By all that's holy, she has unmanned me."

"You'll live," Rockdale said, shaking his head. Under his breath he murmured, "Might smart a bit tomorrow though."

"You're a disgusting excuse for a man, Sir Harold," Eliza spat, releasing the man's abused bollocks and rising shakily to her feet. Rockdale stepped immediately to her side, but she shook him off.

"Don't touch me," she said unsteadily.

"Don't do this." Rockdale's voice was soft but tense.

"I am heartily tired of being told what to do," Eliza told him, feeling suddenly as though she might cast up her accounts at any moment.

She turned her back on Rockdale's dark scowl and ignored Sir Harold, who was slumped over cradling his still-exposed genitals and moaning pitifully. Blinking in surprise, she realized a small crowd of guests had gathered near the pair of marble columns flanking the entrance to the alcove and were peering inside with interest.

Eyes narrowed, she strode in their direction, noting their wide eyes. "Anyone wishing to go next?" she asked, glaring around.

The partygoers scattered. All except Lord Sinclair's companion, Violet, who slowly drew near.

"Are you well, Rose?"

Eliza sucked in a shuddering breath, then another. "No, actually, I am not. Is there a ladies' retiring room nearby?

"Of course," Violet said. "I'll show you, come with me."

Rockdale stepped forward. "El—Rose, wait."

Violet drew her arm through Eliza's and smiled prettily at Rockdale. "Can you not spare your lady a few moments to freshen up? I'll take good care of her."

"Bring her straight back here, Violet," he said, displeasure etched on his face.

Eliza refused to even look in Rockdale's direction as Violet guided her out of the ballroom. Her thoughts were chaotic and confused. She wanted to both slap Rockdale across his handsome face and fall into his arms weeping.

Reaching the quiet of a small parlor designated as a retiring room, Eliza gladly sank into one of a pair of gilt chairs positioned before a large hanging mirror. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her frazzled nerves, and glanced over at Violet, who stood nearby watching.

"You needn't stay with me. I only require a few moments to collect myself." Unwelcome, angry tears welled into Eliza's eyes, and she sniffed and looked away in embarrassment.

"Hmm," Violet said. "Let's get you set to rights, shall we?"

Though puzzled as to why Violet would treat her with compassion, Eliza nonetheless sat quietly as Violet straightened and repinned her listing curls.

"Would you like to rinse your hands?" Violet asked with an arch of one delicate brow.

Eliza stared down at her hands, disgusted to think where they had so recently been. "God, yes," she answered fervently.

Expression impassive, Violet nodded and retrieved a nearby basin and pitcher.

Eliza thankfully poured the tepid water over her hands, wishing she could scrub her face as well.

"Thank you," Eliza murmured.

Violet perched on the next chair, crossing her long legs. Eliza couldn't help but feel relieved that the other woman had donned a white silk robe over her revealing corset.

"So tell me, Rose, why were you doing your best to rip off Sir Harold's saggy bits?"

Hands trembling slightly, Eliza crossed her arms over her chest. Goodness, she had made quite the scene, hadn't she?

"He betrayed my trust," Eliza said at last and pressed her lips together in a thin line.

"Rockdale didn't seem at all pleased," Violet mused. "Are you his mistress?"

"No!" Eliza answered quickly. "Well, not exactly." She sighed. "It's rather complicated."

Violet absently rubbed her fingers over her robe's lapel. "You almost seem as though you don't wish to be with him."

Ignoring the curious pinch in her chest, Eliza shook her head. "I just want to return to my family. But...everything is such a mess." Bowing her head under Violet's close scrutiny, she bit her lip and resolved to reveal no more of her strange situation.

"I hope you will forgive my candor, but I find this rather intriguing. I'd wager most females here would give their eyeteeth to be with the Earl of Rockdale," Violet said with a tinkling laugh.

"Well, I wouldn't." Eliza said with some asperity. "I had thought, despite his faults, that he had grown to truly have some genuine feeling for me, but after tonight, I realize how foolish I am. He desires my body but cares naught for my thoughts or wishes. I am but a toy for him to use and discard." A bitter note crept into her voice.

"Men rarely look beyond a fair face and form." Violet shrugged. "But I think you have it a bit wrong, dear Rose. Lord Rockdale certainly seems infatuated with you to me." She dimpled and glanced sideways at Eliza. "I'd lock you up in the linen closet if I thought he'd ever look with such longing at me."

"Infatuated with my body, perhaps." Eliza scowled. "What of respect, affection...and love?"

A shadow crossed Violet's face. "Love will not keep food in your belly or clothes on your back," she shot back, her tone vehement.

Eliza raised her brows in surprise, taken aback by the other woman's strong reaction. 

Violet heaved a small sigh. "But...perhaps you are right. I've thrown away my opportunity for love because I was afraid of losing all my beautiful possessions." Her smile sad, she held up her hands to the light, and the jeweled rings on her fingers sparkled and gleamed.

The look she directed at Eliza held a hint of challenge. "Mayhap you will be lucky enough to win both Rockdale's heart and his wealth."

Eliza frowned. Contrary to what Violet suggested, she had no intention of trying to win Rockdale's affection or riches. Her only goal was to secure her family's future so that she could return home. Nothing else mattered.

Violet cocked her head and eyed Eliza intently. "Do you love him?"

Flustered, Eliza stood and smoothed her skirt. "I'd be a fool to love him."

She may have been forced to sacrifice her virtue and dignity, but she would indeed be addled in the brain to make the mistake of falling in love with a man like Rockdale.

"A finely figured man can make a fool out of the smartest of women," Violet said with a slight smirk.

"A smart woman looks beyond a handsome face and into the character of a man," Eliza countered.

Violet's smile turned decidedly naughty. "Ahh...but Rose, surely you've been...acquainted with Rockdale long enough to realize that a gentleman's character, no matter how esteemed, isn't what satisfies our most secret yearnings." Her voice dropped to a husky, almost seductive whisper.

Eliza felt her face erupt into flaming color. Immediately, images from her earlier carnal encounter with Rockdale leapt into her mind. She swallowed hard at the answering twinge of remembrance between her legs.

"I see you understand...it's written all over your face." Violet nodded, wrapping her arms around her middle. "Desires of the flesh can be powerful. And sometimes... it is the men with darkened hearts whose touch a woman craves the most." She shivered slightly, her gaze drifting away before snapping back to Eliza. "I'm sure Rockdale has reveled in corrupting your innocence."

Eliza shifted uncomfortably. The other woman's words were unsettling, and she was unsure how to reply. She stiffened as Violet stood and stepped close.

She trailed a finger down Eliza's cheek. "The face of an angel and the body of a temptress. No wonder Rockdale has been ensnared." She lowered her hand and gestured toward the door. "But I'm afraid you've forever ruined your angelic appearance, at least for me, after attempting to reshape Sir Harold's codsack with your bare hands."

"He's lucky I didn't shove the hairy lumps down his throat."

The brunette burst into giggles. "I like you, Rose. You have spirit." She sobered, her gaze turning speculative. "It's almost time for my performance in the ballroom. Why don't you come along and assist me?"

"Oh, no, I don't think I could do that." Eliza shook her head automatically, though a bit intrigued by the suggestion.

"It will be fun!" Violet insisted, walking over to a nearby wooden cabinet holding a decanter and glasses. "And Rockdale will be livid," she added with a sly glance while pouring a goodly amount of blood-red wine into each glass.

Eliza accepted the proffered glass of wine from Violet. Suddenly, striking back at Rockdale seemed like a marvelous idea. She downed the wine in one long drink and stared at Violet evenly. "What would I have to do?"

***

Rockdale paced impatiently. What the devil could be keeping them so long? He glanced to the side and saw Sinclair approaching.

"Have you seen Violet and Rose recently?" Rockdale asked tersely.

"No, I have not. Say, Rockdale, I thought your lady was the shy, timid type, but what I've seen of her tonight has revised my earlier impression." Sinclair chuckled.

Rockdale scrubbed a hand across his mouth. This evening was not at all turning out how he had envisioned. All he wanted now was to find Eliza and take her back to the townhouse. He had thought to get a lurid thrill from showing Eliza's shapely body off at the masque and shocking her with the debauchery of the wild gathering, but now, everything had been ruined.

Seeing Eliza confront Sir Harold had been unexpectedly gut-wrenching for him. The depths of her anger and betrayal went deeper than he had realized. Rockdale stared blindly across the ballroom. She had shocked him a bit with the furious words she had spoken to Sir Harold. Did Eliza truly believe Verity Hall to be the "den of the devil?"

He felt almost...piqued that she would still harbor such ill feelings toward him. What they had shared earlier tonight had been something unique, something special. He had been so certain she was developing some tender feelings toward him. There was no way she could have given her body to him so freely tonight if she did not, he vowed.

And however maddening she could be at times, Rockdale craved more of what he had experienced with Eliza tonight. Their connection had been so much more than any lover he had bedded before. He wanted more of it. Much more.

It was time to be done with the pretense of her being the governess, he decided. As his mistress he could take her around town freely, show her all the things she would have never experienced in the country. He could give her the luxuries she deserved while having her in his bed every night if he so wished. And if she were under his protection, he could ensure she would be his permanently safe from scoundrels like Sir Harold and George, his footman.




Carnal Knowledge Ch. 11-12



Blankly, he realized Sinclair was still talking to him.

"What would you say if I arranged a night for the four of us?" the other man said. "We could plan for tomorrow evening if you're interested. I know you have a fondness for Violet, and I find myself quite keen to sample your Rose."

Rockdale forced himself to breath slow and steady. You brought her here, he reminded himself. You should have known other men would desire her.

He forced his lips to turn up in a facsimile of a smile. "Not quite ready to share her." He clapped Sinclair on the back. "I'm sure you understand."

"Quite," Sinclair murmured, the corners of his mouth turning down. "You must tell me, what transpired earlier between Rose and Sir Harold Cavendish? The poor fellow was entirely out of sorts afterwards. I had to send a serving boy to help him to a bed chamber. Besides, I thought you didn't want to share Rose," he added with a touch of grievance.

"Ahh," Rockdale said, rubbing his jaw. Christ, how was he to explain this one? "I really can't say. It's a private matter between Rose and Harry."

"I see," Sinclair replied in a tone that implied he clearly didn't. "Well, come along with me, Rockdale. I have something to show you in my study."

The ache in his temples expanded to a vicious throb. "Can it wait? I'm waiting for Rose to return."

Sinclair's stare turned mockingly incredulous. "I don't doubt Rose's little cunt tastes sweet as nectar and grips your cock like a velvet glove, but surely you are not so enamored of that hole that you cannot move from this spot for a few minutes?"

Rockdale gritted his teeth as Sinclair regarded him with raised brows. Swallowing his ire with no small effort, Rockdale jerked his chin. "Lead on, then." You arrogant bastard, he added silently.

They left the crowded ballroom where the antics were becoming decidedly more risqué. He cursed himself for allowing Sinclair to shame him into leaving even for a short time.

Sinclair ushered him into his study with a flourish. "I simply had to show you the new paintings I had commissioned."

Rockdale glanced up at the walls with irritation then narrowly stopped himself from gaping in surprise. A series of three paintings hung on the wooden paneling behind Sinclair's enormous desk, but it was quickly apparent that these were no ordinary portraits. 

Forgetting his ire for a moment, Rockdale drew closer to the first of the series. Within the gilded gold frame Violet knelt, completely nude, in a perfect submissive pose amid a tumble of white silk and lush pink flowers. Her image embodied everything sweet and innocent—all things Rockdale knew full well she wasn't. "The artist is superb," he murmured.

"Yes," Sinclair answered, sounding pleased with himself. "Really marvelous, isn't it, how he captured her expressions and coloring."

Unable to stop, Rockdale continued to the second frame. In this painting, Violet reclined, again completely unclothed, on an expanse of bluish-purple satin and plush pillows. Her legs were spread wide showing the smooth, plump folds of her quim. One of her hands delved into her parted nether lips. With her eyes closed and mouth slightly open as though crying out, Violet appeared to have been captured right at the moment of climax.

Rockdale quickly glanced back at Sinclair. "These must have cost you a fortune."

The other man's smile was smug. "It was going to, yes."

"Was?" Rockdale queried, moving to the next picture.

"The idiot painter fell in love with her. Or perhaps it was only lust," Sinclair snorted. "I had Violet begin pleasuring him with her talented mouth in between sittings. The man had a stiff pole in his pants every time I saw him, what was I to do but take pity on him?"

Rockdale frowned, and Sinclair shrugged before continuing. "When the paintings were finished the poor bastard begged me to let him paint five more! He was bereft upon leaving and refused to take any money, the twit. Can you believe such a thing?"

Rockdale shook his head, wondering if Violet had willingly offered her services to the painter. This business with Eliza had affected his brain, he thought ruefully. Before he wouldn't have wondered or cared.

His breath caught in his throat when he turned back to gaze fully at the last picture. Violet's slender limbs were outstretched between two tall wooden posts of an ornately carved bedstead. She faced outward with a black silk blindfold covering her eyes.

Every nuance of her lithe body was visible, as were slight red welts marking her milky skin, concentrated over her high, uptilted breasts and the bare mound of her sex. Rockdale noted with a jarring twinge that Violet's smooth mons bore the most intensely crimson marks.

"Shit," Rockdale muttered. How often must Violet have had to pose this way for the artist to capture such a startling image?

"She loves being restrained," Sinclair said softly. "I enjoy whipping that little body with my crop quite frequently. Afterward I tie her face down over the footboard and beat her rump with my paddle until it's a most becoming shade of crimson. Then I thoroughly fuck her cunt and tight arse. The sensation of that glowing-hot derrière against your groin is..." He hummed appreciatively. "Well, let me just say the experience shouldn't be missed."

Rockdale swallowed hard, his mind conjuring the image of Eliza bound naked over the bed frame while he whipped her. She would like it, a voice whispered in his brain. Once you got past her initial resistance, she would let you...you know she would.

With an effort, Rockdale tore his eyes away from the elicit painting and found Sinclair watching him with an avid interest.

"Enticing thought, isn't it," Sinclair said. "Why don't you bring Rose back tomorrow night? I won't touch her if you don't want me to. Violet and I will watch you whip her for the first time." He smiled. "I already have everything you need at hand."

Rockdale took a step backward, then another. He cleared his throat. "I should find Rose now. I wouldn't want her to get into any trouble."

Sinclair stared at him for a moment then finally nodded. "I believe it's almost time for Violet's entertainment. We wouldn't want to miss that."

A trickle of unease slithered down Rockdale's spine, but he followed Sinclair to rejoin the crush of the ballroom. Once back inside, Rockdale quickly scanned the crowd for Eliza's white gown and fair curls.

They joined a group of guests milling around the center of the large room. The crowd cleared a path for Sinclair to move to the center, and Rockdale followed. His stomach clenched when he finally spied Eliza.

Rockdale received a jolt of surprise to see the two women reclining side by side upon golden chaises with a muscular male slave kneeling between them. The attractive young male fed the two women glistening purple grapes from one hand while holding a silver goblet in the other.

Sinclair's laugh grated across Rockdale's ears.

"It appears the lovely Rose has consented to be a part of our show," Sinclair remarked.

Not if he had anything to do with it, Rockdale thought grimly, stepping forward. Sinclair's hand shot out and gripped his elbow hard.

"Now, Rockdale," Sinclair said mildly. "I can't allow you to interrupt."

"Release me," the earl growled. "You have no right—"

"What have you done!" Violet's voice rang out, capturing everyone's attention.

The male slave ducked his head in apparent shame, lowering the goblet.

Violet pointed to a small dark spot on her flowing white robe. "You've spilled the wine," she said darkly.

"Mistresses, forgive me," the servant begged, shuffling backward on his knees, eyes darting between Violet and Eliza.

"I told you not to spill a drop!" Violet rose from the chaise and glared down at the servant.

"It won't happen again, I promise!" the slave insisted, grasping at the hem of Violet's long robe.

She snatched it disdainfully away. "Rose, we will have to discipline him. I see no other course of action."

Rockdale's jaw fell open as Eliza swept regally to her feet and picked up a square polished piece of wood with a handle.

"It's for your own good," Eliza said sternly, smacking the wooden paddle against her palm with a loud thwack.

Rockdale blinked and blinked again, torn between the urge to snatch Eliza up and out of the scene and sheer shocked curiosity at what she might actually do. He knew the exact moment Eliza realized he was watching. Her eyes narrowed and fixed on him, visible even behind her mask, and she thwacked the paddle against her palm once more.

Sinclair gave a choked snort of laughter. "I'd watch yourself around that female if I were you, Rockdale."

The male slave gingerly arranged himself on one of the chaises on his hands and knees at Violet's direction.

Violet made a show of slowly untying his loin cloth, leaving the servant entirely nude except for the golden bands he wore. She ran her hand over his muscled arse, squeezing and fondling the taut, masculine curves.

Rockdale couldn't help but notice the male's impressively sized cock was already partially erect and curving up toward his stomach. The slave moaned low in his throat as Violet's hand slid around to grasp his shaft.

With a nod from Violet, Eliza stepped forward. Rockdale could see her waver for a brief moment before lifting the paddle.

That little minx! Rockdale quite simply could not wrap his mind around what he was seeing. Just what in heaven's name had possessed Eliza to take part in such a spectacle was beyond his understanding. He winced in sympathy when the paddle swung through the air and connected with the slave's arse with a loud smack. The man's eyes widened as though he had received rather more force than he'd anticipated.

"Keep going, Rose!" Violet urged.

Eliza's paddle smacked his bottom once more, and the man groaned through gritted teeth. Violet's hand continued to work his stiffening penis.

Rockdale's own cock twitched as he watched, helplessly captivated by the sight of Eliza wielding the paddle like a vengeful, seductive angel.

Two more smacks of Eliza's paddle and Violet stepped back, releasing the slave's cock. The man's golden skin gleamed with a damp sheen of fine perspiration. She stripped out of the robe, her slim beauty and breasts shown to perfection in the revealing silvery corset.

Violet daintily straddled the chaise in front of the slave's head and reclined against the cushioned back. Her eyes drifted partially closed as her hand wound into the man's short cropped hair.

"Pleasure me," she purred seductively and arched her hips up off the chaise.

Without delay, the slave eagerly pressed his face into Violet's spread labia, licking and lapping. His cock visibly bobbed with the smacks from Eliza's paddle while she continued to administer punishment to the male's reddening arse.

"I think that's enough of the paddle, Rose," Violet said finally, licking her lips as the male servant continued to use his tongue and fingers between her parted legs. She grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled. "Get down in the floor, slave."

The man quickly rose up from the chaise. "Yes, mistress," he said, walking a few steps past the chaises to kneel down on a rug that had been spread in the center of the ballroom. He bowed his head. "I await your desire."

"Lie on your back," Violet ordered.

Once the man had complied, his cock jutting up as though begging for attention, Violet stepped closer and placed one high-heeled slipper on each side of his hips. She tossed her head, flipping her long dark curls over one bare shoulder. The onlookers shifted closer when Violet gracefully lowered herself over his groin.

"You will not spill your seed until I give you leave to do so. Do you understand?" Violet's beautiful features were severe gazing down at the male beneath her.

The man's face looked almost pained as Violet grasped his manhood firmly, positioning it at the entrance to her body. "Yes, mistress, anything you command, I will obey."

Violet sank down on his cock with a purr of satisfaction, and Rockdale's eyes were drawn back to Eliza, who looked up as though feeling his gaze upon her. He hoped rather fervently her part in this silly pretense was over.

"Rose, join me!" Violet demanded. "He will pleasure you with his mouth while I use his cock."

Eliza stepped forward and something finally snapped inside Rockdale. "Oh, hell, no," he grated out and strode forward, jerking free of Sinclair's restraining arm.

Rockdale grabbed Eliza's shoulder, spinning her around. "I think you forget who you belong to, Rose."

"You're ruining my show!" Violet hissed.

Rockdale ignored Violet, and his temper threatened to spill out of his normal icy control. "I don't know what you think you're trying to accomplish with this foolish display, but I will not allow another man to touch my woman."

Eliza tugged at her arm. "Don't be an arse. I wasn't going to let him touch me!"

Sinclair's deep chuckle snared both their attention.

"I think your companion is sorely lacking in respect and training, Rockdale," he drawled, moving to Violet's side where she was still astride the male servant.

Sinclair thrust his hand roughly into Violet's dark curls and released his erect cock from his breeches. Taking his shaft in hand, he slowly drew it over Violet's cheeks. A mulish look crossed her face only briefly before she parted her lips and accepted his penis into her mouth.

He directed a smug look toward Rockdale. "Discipline, my dear fellow. Works wonders." Violet's eyes were fixed on Sinclair's face as he thrust deeper and more forcefully into her throat.

"I am not a child to be disciplined," Eliza protested.

"Be quiet," Rockdale growled to Eliza. To Sinclair, he said, "I believe it is time for us to depart."

"Pity," Sinclair said pulling his cock from Violet's abused mouth. "Things are just beginning to get entertaining here." He moved behind Violet and knelt down between the male slave's splayed legs, drawing a small bottle from inside his jacket.

With a hand on Violet's back, Sinclair urged her to bend at the waist. He uncorked the bottle and dribbled what looked to be clear oil over his cock. He spread the cheeks of Violet's bottom and slid his oiled staff up and down her exposed crevice.

Sinclair continued speaking as though his actions were not completely shocking—even by his usual standards. "We're having a lovely cold supper at midnight with champagne. Surely you can stay until then." 

He might have been conversing with them in a normal social setting. Rockdale caught a glimpse of Eliza's astonished expression as Sinclair worked his cock into Violet's fundament.

Violet's face contorted into a puzzling combination of pleasure and pain while the two men thrust their cocks into her body.

"Bring Rose tomorrow," Sinclair urged, shoving harder against Violet's bottom, eliciting a moan from her.

"Ahh," Rockdale said, his eyes following the debauchery with reluctant fascination. He cleared his throat. "Thank you for your...hospitality, Sinclair. We must bid you goodnight."

Rockdale bowed and keeping a firm hold of Eliza's arm, he towed her toward the exit.

*******************************

Chapter 12

John Willoughby shot upright in his bed, sweating and wild-eyed. Panting, he shoved the tumbled covers away from his damp skin and rose from the bed. He went to stand by the window, pushing the wooden shutters open with more force than necessary.

Leaning out, he sucked in lungfuls of cool night air until his thundering heart began to slow and the remnants of his disturbing dream started to fade. God, but it had seemed so real! His cock throbbed as though to remind him of the lustful nature of his slumbering thoughts.

Normally, he prided himself on holding tight control over his baser male urges. John Willoughby might not have a title or very much coin to call his own, but he was a gentleman, by God.

Women were to be admired for their gracious, kind ways and quick, creative minds, not solely to be ogled and degraded by brutish, crude men. A true gentleman would never—even in his dreams!—have such salacious thoughts.

But what thoughts they had been... His cock jerked enthusiastically in memory.

He had gone to bed feeling strangely irritable and restless, plagued by images of Miss Lockhart's angelic features, and to his shame, a vivid memory of how she had looked in her evening gown—the one that had so snuggly outlined her lovely bosom. His hands fisted. Even a monk would have been stirred by the sight of those creamy mounds rising up from that tight bodice like an offering to a starving man's eyes.

John had finally fallen asleep only to conjure the young woman in his dreams. He had once again been searching for her in the estate gardens. Only when he found her in his dream, she had been dripping wet as though caught out in a pouring rain storm. It had seemed only logical to get her out of that sodden dress. His hands trembled remembering how his dream self had unlaced and peeled away her clothing until it all lay puddled at her feet.

He had filled his hands with those glorious breasts, and she had smiled at him so sweetly. Inviting him to further intimacies he so desperately wanted to take. He leaned down to lick and suckle at the ruched pink of her nipples.

"Oh, John," she had whispered. "I want you to touch me everywhere."

And he wanted, rather madly, that exact thing. 

John endeavored to be gentle, slowly maneuvering her to lie back upon the grass. Her wide blue eyes held trepidation but also trust when he eased her legs apart and settled between. "It's alright, darling," he assured her in a whisper. "I won't hurt you. I will never hurt you."

His own clothing had magically disappeared, and he covered her nakedness with his own, his staff impatiently seeking entrance to her body. He could still hear her gasp as he pushed that first tight inch into her soft center.

Only to rudely awaken. Alone. Spike-hard. He could have wept in frustration.

"Damn it," he muttered.

John shoved an agitated hand over his bare stomach, aching with the need to grasp his swollen cock and stroke. Up and down...repeatedly...until he came in a shuddering climax.

But no. He wouldn't, he told himself stubbornly. Miss Lockhart deserved better than to be the object of his vulgar impulses.

Deliberately he turned his mind away from the lovely governess. The whole house had been abuzz this evening with Lord Rockdale's instructions for poor George the footman. What exactly had been the reason behind the odd actions, John had been unable to discover.

He couldn't shake the idea that it had something to do with Miss Lockhart.

It had been very strange indeed the way Lord Rockdale had rushed her out of the house that morning...and personally accompanied her on the journey as well. That did not seem at all right, in his opinion. Something about the entire trip aroused his suspicions.

He gritted his teeth while pondering what his father had told him. Could it really be true? He knew his father would never fabricate the tale, and Willoughby the senior swore that he had heard the words straight from Miss Lockhart's own lips.

Ruined by the earl himself, his father had said gravely.

As Lord Rockdale's secretary, he was well aware the man was no saint. Far from it. But to take a girl in his employ against her will... This was greatly disturbing.

And then the way she had brusquely fled from him in the gardens when he had only been attempting to offer assistance. It perplexed him. She had brushed by him almost like the devil had been on her heels.

What a tangled mess. He rubbed his aching temples.

Perhaps Eliza and Rockdale were together even now...in bed. Perhaps she welcomed his attentions. Perhaps... He pushed away from the window with a swallowed curse.




Carnal Knowledge Ch. 11-12



No, he wouldn't believe it of her, he decided firmly. He had seen with his own eyes how genuine and ladylike she appeared. None of it was her fault if Rockdale had truly forced himself upon her like some great rutting beast.

The very idea of her losing her maidenhead in such a fashion sickened him and roused his protective, chivalrous instincts.

He needed to devise a way to wrest the young lady from the earl's clutches. John snorted a bit at his own dramatic turn of phrase but resolved himself just the same. It wasn't right for Miss Lockhart to be treated in such a depraved manner, even if that gentleman was a member of the aristocracy.

She deserved better, he vowed, climbing back into his bed. He closed his eyes and studiously tried to avoid thinking of his still erect cock and what it would feel like to truly thrust it between Miss Lockhart's soft intimate folds.

"If I have to dream it again, just don't make me wake up this time," he mumbled to his pillow.

***

It seemed Rockdale could not remove her from Sinclair's manor house fast enough.

Eliza practically had to trot to keep up with him, and he refused to release her arm even after they climbed into the carriage. Feeling sick to her stomach, she longed to crawl into the corner and try to forget the entire evening.

She could feel the tense set of his body and half-expected him to erupt in a fury at any moment. Dear Lord. Had she really done all those scandalous acts tonight? First, cavorting with Rockdale in complete abandon in front of who knew how many voyeuristic observers, then her savage interlude with Sir Harold—this she didn't regret—followed by her half-witted participation in Violet's silly farce. 

Perhaps another woman really had taken over her body tonight.

Rockdale seemed lost in his own thoughts, and the trip back to the townhouse was strangely quiet. Eliza opened her mouth several times, but somehow could not produce any suitable words to say.

She studied his profile, the haughty curve of cheek, the hard jaw and sensual mouth. The mere memory of those masculine lips tracing her skin sent a fine tremor of sensation up her neck, raising the fine hairs along her nape. 

At times she felt captured like a hapless insect, snared in his deceptively delicate web spun of newfound sensual sensations and physical pleasures. The more she struggled to extract herself, the more intertwined and bound she became. It was all too simple to see herself helplessly addicted to the dark seduction of his smile that seemed to beckon to her with all the countless secrets of men and women that her body clamored to know.

Eliza tried in vain to focus instead on the memory of her mother's dear face. Nothing but heartache and regret could come from allowing herself to give into these unseemly desires. She needed—no—she must remember the reasons she had come to be in the earl's employ. Her family was relying on her for support, and their livelihood must be her only motivation.

She swallowed hard and ignored the troubling twinge of fear that like Pandora, once she had unsealed the container and loosed the myriad of evils it held, nothing could be undone.

But desires could be ignored. They could be repressed. She shivered, grateful that Rockdale harbored no real feelings for her. It would be easier to harden her resolve to escape him as soon as possible. And escape him she would, anything else was unthinkable.

The mood between them remained uncertain as Rockdale ushered her upstairs to the bedchamber where she had rested and gotten dressed earlier. It had only been a matter of hours, but yet it felt to Eliza as though days had gone by.

Ill at ease, Eliza slipped out of her cloak and hung it on a peg near the door, unsure of how to proceed. The earl had yet to speak a single word to her. She watched him out of the corner of her eye with wariness when he sat heavily on the bed. His head bowed down, she saw his shoulders begin to inexplicably quiver.

Good heavens. Eliza's eyes widened in alarm. Surely, he could not be...

One hand covered his mouth while his big body continued to shake. A few strangled noises escaped.

Eliza took one step closer then another. "William?" she asked hesitantly, reaching out to touch him.

He finally lowered his hand, took one look at her and guffawed out loud.

Shock froze her abruptly in place. "Are you... Are you laughing? "

He collapsed into whoops of laughter, clutching at his stomach.

"I keep picturing the look of horror on Harry's face when you viciously ripped open his smallclothes...and...and then when you paddled the hell out of that poor chap's bum..." he dissolved again into mirth, snorting helplessly.

"I believe you have finally taken complete leave of your senses." She pursed her lips and spun away.

Bloody idiotic man, she fumed.

He grabbed her skirt and reeled her back. "Oh, no, you don't," he said, still chuckling.

The earl tumbled her down into his lap and wiped at his eyes. "I can't remember when I've laughed so hard."

She eyed him with baleful reproach. "I'm overjoyed I could amuse you."

***

William grinned unrepentantly. "Eliza, my dove, you never cease to surprise me that is for certain." He felt her stiffen in surprise when he wrapped an arm tightly around her.

He cupped her cheek, marveling how one small female could be both so fair and so brave. At times, she stole his breath clear away. He found himself wondering briefly how it would feel to be included with all that fierce loyalty she displayed for her family.

"Eliza..." he murmured, stroking the soft, pale skin of her lovely face. It hovered right on his tongue to demand that she become his mistress and stay with him. How could he ever let her go? 

But uncertainty and even a bit of distrust lurked in the depths of her deep blue eyes as she gazed back at him. He felt almost certain she would refuse his offer of carte blanche, and part of him feared he may even beg should she say no.

A small voice in the back of his mind shouted at him to take her however he would, find a way to force her to stay. Yours,  it insisted.  She is yours!

"Why are you looking at me that way?" 

Her question jerked him from his internal debate. He shifted—one of his legs was tingling and beginning to fall asleep—but he was loath to release her.

"Truthfully, I am feeling rather odd," he admitted.

She frowned, her expression puzzled. "Is something wrong? Are you unwell?" 

"No, not unwell." William paused, opened his mouth then closed it again. "To be honest, I feel strangely...happy," he said and snapped his mouth shut again, feeling ridiculous for spouting something so inane.

But her eyes unexpectedly softened at his blurted words, and something warm and unfamiliar bloomed to life in his chest. Perhaps he was  unwell in the head.

"You say it like you've never been happy before."

"I'm not sure that I have," he replied slowly.

Silence stretched between them for a moment or two, not quite awkward while they continued to stare at one another. The thudding of his heart seemed abnormally loud in the quiet.

"That seems a little sad," she said at last.

"Yes," he agreed somberly. "I suppose it is."

They regarded one another for another moment, and he saw something shift in her expression. 

"You're an odd man, William Grayson," she murmured.

"And not a good one, either, I'm afraid." He stared at her broodingly. "Do you hate me for what I've done to you?"

She pondered that a moment then sighed. "I should... I want to."

"But you don't." One corner of his mouth quirked up. He leaned close. "It's my irrepressible charm, I suppose."

"It would be easier if I did hate you." She raised one hand and gently touched his jaw.

He fought the urge to turn into her slight caress and tumble her into the bed. A savage need to cover her body with his own had settled into his blood, into his bones, into the very essence of his body. But he held himself still and waited, almost daring not to breathe when her fingertips trailed across his lips.

Her face held an expression he couldn't decipher, and he struggled not to groan while she traced the shapes of his cheeks and eyes. The first touch of her lips to his own felt tentative and light as though rose petals had brushed across his mouth.

He shivered and fisted his hands in the gossamer folds of her dress. Eliza's kiss deepened, and the first slide of her tongue along his bottom lip sent an almost painful rush of blood to his stiffening cock. Christ.  An urgent desire to claim her warred with his delight in having her touch him of her own free will.

Beads of fine sweat gathered on his forehead when she rested her hands on his shoulders and pushed her tongue into his open mouth. Desperately, he lapped at her sweetness, dueling and twining his tongue with hers, kissing her back with all the unfamiliar, unsaid feelings he held inside.

Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop. The litany repeated in his head, barely kept from being spoken aloud.

She finally lifted her head, and his cock pulsed eagerly when she licked her lips, appearing to savor his taste. His willpower frayed, and he flopped backward onto the bed.

"Mistress," he purred. "I am at your mercy."

Her lips twitched. "Is that so?"

"Yes, and I'm actually rather relieved you had no pocket to smuggle out that wooden paddle," he said, grinning impishly.

She burst into husky laughter, and the strange, warm feeling blossomed to life in his chest once more.

Eliza eased off his lap, and he quickly shucked his jacket and shirt and repositioned himself on the bed, with his head lying on the pillow. He gazed up at her and slowly raised his arms to grasp the large wooden headboard, unsure what her response would be but desperate to have her hands on his body once more. 

She rose from the bed, and disappointment surged through him. But it turned to heady elation when she removed her gown and jewelry and turned back to him in all her glorious naked glory.

"If anyone ever needed punishment, it would be you," she informed him dryly.

He smirked at her and gripped the headboard tighter, watching her eyes follow the play of his muscles.

"Show me the error of my wicked ways, mistress," he coaxed, his gaze hungrily traveling her curves while she climbed back onto the bed and inched closer.

"Good heavens. That could take weeks, months, possibly years."

"Cheeky baggage." William groaned when her hand brushed his groin; the rigid length of his cock strained against the confines of his trousers. His eyes drifted closed for a moment at the tentative stroke of her palm over the sensitive head of his staff. 

Near panting with need, he opened his eyes and focused on her face. "I'd be your willing sexual slave any time you desire," he murmured, nearly weeping with relief when she undid the buttons of his trousers to release his cock.

Her expression was half amused and half disbelieving. "And you'd kneel down for me, I suppose?"

"Darling, I'd kneel down for you whenever you wish as long as your sweet cunt was there to shove my face into and lick. Come put your little arse over my face, and I'll demonstrate for you."

She froze for a fraction of a second. "You're rather commanding for someone who's supposed to be my willing slave."

"Just offering suggestions, mistress."

His hips arched off the bed when she leaned over and blew her warm breath over his bare groin. The sweet torture was almost more than he could stand. She glided her soft lips over his overheated flesh in slight nibbles that built to lazy flicks of her tongue.

He groaned at the first feel of her open mouth lightly suckling at the head of his cock. It was far too much and not nearly enough at the same time. Almost of its own volition his arm released the headboard to push her head down onto his cock.

Eliza immediately lifted her head. "Keep your hands over your head."

He narrowed his eyes. "You're a cruel mistress."

"Don't make me get my hairbrush," she said silkily. "It's not a paddle, but I think I can achieve similar results."

His eyes widened in surprise, and he snorted with laughter that shook the whole bed frame. "I'm a bit frightened actually."

Then her lovely pink mouth enveloped his cock once more and none of it mattered. She hummed her pleasure over him, taking him deeper, and his eyes rolled back as he struggled to not erupt too soon. Her hand wrapped around his base, aiding her ministrations, and he gritted his teeth, sure his grip on the wooden frame would cause it splinter any moment.

His hips thrust ineffectually upward when she backed off and swirled her tongue under the swollen head of his cock.

"Jesus, Eliza," he choked. 

She smiled and pressed small kisses along his shaft before abandoning his aching groin to pull his trousers the rest of the way off.

He was momentarily arrested by the sight of her crawling over his body, straddling his hips so that his cock nestled between her legs. Her heat and her wetness slid tantalizingly along his stiff length.

"Let me touch you." His breath turned ragged when her breasts pressed against his chest, and she leaned in to lick along his neck.

"No," she whispered in his ear, biting down hard on his lobe unexpectedly.

He flinched, and his cock jumped. Damn it all! She had him lurching and quaking like a virgin schoolboy. Her tongue discovered the shape of his ear, and he shuddered.

"I can feel you throbbing between my legs," she said, her voice low and breathy.

"Let me inside you," he urged hoarsely, feeling he might go mad with need of her and the sweet clasp of her quim that hovered so tantalizingly close.

She moved her hips so that he slid against and through her slick, velvety folds, rocking against him. He felt her breath quicken, heard her soft moans as she rubbed herself on his cock.

His whole body burned with a fevered desire. Her hair, now partially loose from its pins, cascaded down over him, twining and twisting sinuously around his chest and arms like the sweetest of bindings. A high-pitched mew of female arousal slid from her lips into his ear, and quite suddenly his control snapped like a taut string stretched too tightly.

In an instant, he had her pinned beneath him, their positions reversed in the space of her indrawn breath of surprise. He shoved her thighs wider to accommodate his weight, smiling with grim satisfaction when she gasped and squirmed against the push of his cock breeching her quim.

"I thought you were at my mercy!" she protested, arching her back when his hands settled possessively over her breasts.

He shoved the entire length of his cock inside her with one relentless thrust, and she squealed.

"Playtime is over," he growled, his gravelly voice almost unrecognizable to his own ears. "Now you're bloody well going to get fucked."

Thoughts of skill and finesse fled, and his entire world narrowed down to the feel of her naked skin and soft curves, the muscles of her tight cunt gripping his cock, the overwhelming need to shove as much of himself inside her as humanly possible.

So tight. 

So hot.

Little moans and sighs bubbled from her lips, enflaming him even more. He hooked his hands behind her knees and pushed them toward her head, penetrating her in long, deep strokes. Her inner passage bathed his cock in a heavenly molten embrace.

Fucking her once or twice should have been enough to rid him of this weakening need to have her. It should have been enough! His hands slid upward to fist in her hair, holding her in place for the assault of his open mouth. He devoured her parted lips with all of the confusion and pent-up emotion coursing through him.

She kissed him back with equal fiery abandon, her arms wrapped tight around him. He could feel the sting of her nails scoring his skin, and dimly, in a corner of his mind still managing to function rationally, he was amazed that she could find any gratification in his frenzied invasion of her body.

Little wonder he craved her with an incessant urgency. 

He pushed up to kneel back on his haunches between her splayed legs. Sliding his hands under the cheeks of her arse, he lifted her hips, spreading her even wider, riveted to the sight of his cock plunging inside her.

"You're not so good either, are you, Eliza?"

***

His demanded question startled her out of the sexual haze that held her in thrall.

"You love this," he continued, sweat dripping off his brow. He brushed his thumb over her sensitive pearl, causing her to gasp and arch up off the bed. "You like my cock filling you up so tight, fucking you."

She did. Oh God, how she did love it. Her hips bucked in his grasp when his thumb leisurely circled her most sensitive spot.

"Say it." His voice was rough and dark.

He had pulled back and was barely penetrating her now. She whimpered, needing more contact.

"Please...William...please, I need," she panted.

"Say it, Eliza."

Damn him! She wanted to sob with frustration. "Yes! Yes, I love your cock fucking me. God help me, but I love it. Now, give me more, damn you!"

He obliged her with alacrity, his body covering hers once more, hips hammering into her softness with a fierce, unrelenting rhythm. Sweat and heat fused their bodies into one. Words of need and desire and praise babbled from his lips and hers.

She sobbed and writhed beneath him as her body convulsed in explosive orgasm. He shuddered atop her, the rasp of his hot breath loud in her ear when he pumped his own release inside her soon after.

The limp weight covering her was considerable, and her arms and legs were still wrapped around his body, oddly reluctant to release him. She could feel the galloping of his heart and his breaths ruffling her hair near her ear.

William finally rolled to one side with a grunt, keeping her flush against him, her leg thrown over his hip. His hands continued to roam her body, and she wondered groggily if they would ever be sated of this powerful desire of the flesh.

He leaned in and slowly, tenderly covered her mouth with his own, kissing her as though she was the most precious thing on the earth. Gently and reverently. There was a slight tremor in his hand when he smoothed a tangled mass of curls away from her face.

Her heart clenched, and her eyes burned with a prickling of tears. She had no defense against this man who no longer seemed so much like a peer of the realm, but more like her lover, William. A big muscular male with rumpled dark hair and soft eyes, whose body was so entwined with hers, she wasn't sure where she started and he began. His cock, though softened somewhat, remained inside her.

His hand found hers and linked their fingers.

She drew a shuddering breath. "William," she began, unsure of what she even intended to say. Fatigue weighted her eyelids. She struggled with the tumbled thoughts crossing her mind. She needed to wash. Her hairpins were scattered in the bed—she could feel one jabbing her in the arm. It felt strange to lie on top of the bed coverings, surely they were soiling them. It was chilly in the room, but William's body seemed to hold a furnace of warmth.

"Stop thinking," he whispered. "Just lie with me."

Just lie with me.

Just love me, her mind wanted to plead.

No, not love, never love.

"Can't," she murmured, burrowing her head into the pillow of his chest.

"You can." His rumbled answer was the last thing she heard before sleep claimed her.



Carnal Knowledge Ch. 13-14



Dear Readers,

Thank you for your continued patience with me! I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to post - my writing computer went kablooey.

Since it's been a while, you may want to go back and read the preceding chapter if you're having trouble remembering what is going on. :)

I do appreciate all your comments and feedback.

Thank you!!

All my love,

Emmeline 

********************

Chapter 13

Miles Barlow, the newly titled Lord Atherton, stared blankly at his man of affairs and scratched his head. "I beg your pardon?"

The diminutive man pursed his lips. "You have been ordered to remove yourself and your belongings from these lodgings here in London. It seems you haven't provided any coin thus far, and the owner is demanding immediate payment."

"Immediate payment?" Atherton blustered, running a hand through his already rumpled chestnut hair. "He can't demand anything from me. I'm a viscount!"

"Yes, well," Chavers said. "He can't force you to pay, but he can demand you leave the townhouse, my lord. And if I may speak so boldly, you may remember we have no funds available to make any payments."

"Of course, I bloody remember!" Atherton began to pace, gesturing wildly. "Damn it all to hell, it's that bastard Rockdale behind this. I know it! He's trying to ruin me!"

Chavers cleared his throat. "Perhaps, my lord, if something could be arranged with the young lady, Miss Caroline Stanley? If you could...acquire her dowry very soon?"

"She has not received my calls all week." Atherton ground his teeth. "I thought her father had all but formally given me his blessing, but now suddenly Lord Pelham is away from town. It's all Rockdale's doing!" He whirled around. "I'm a viscount for Christ sake! Can't we sell something?"

Chavers' mouth turned down into a moue of distaste. "I believe everything that is not entailed has been run through...ahem...that is...sold already, my lord."

"Pah," Atherton muttered.

"There is that dashing phaeton you insisted in purchasing last month..."

"Damn it! Not my phaeton!"

The other man rocked on his heels. "I should tell you that I have a meeting with Sir Godfrey Wallace tomorrow," Chavers announced quietly. "He is looking for a new steward for a small estate in Surrey." 

Atherton clapped his open mouth shut with an audible snap. "But you work for me!"

Chavers tugged the sleeves of his jacket down over his wrists. "Not any longer, I'm afraid. You can't afford to pay me, my lord."

Atherton slammed both hands down on the table in front of Chavers, causing the smaller man to recoil. "Go ahead then, sell the damn phaeton! Pay yourself."

The vicount spun towards the door. "It's early yet, but I'm going to see if I can persuade my way into Lord Pelham's townhouse to work my wiles on his daughter."

"You'd better work more than your wiles, my lord. Or you will soon be residing in the ancestral pile in Dartmoor...and planting a garden to feed yourself."

***

Nicholas sighed.

Morosely, the young boy stared at the morning sun slanting through the nursery windows. Being stuck inside on a sunny day was almost as rotten as having to drink Nanny Goodson's special medicine for an upset stomach. 

"Do you think Miss Lockhart will be back soon?" Nicholas asked his sister.

He swung his foot, beating the heel of his shoe against the chair leg. It made an annoying, repeated thump, thump, thump,  which would have been far more satisfying to him had Nanny Goodson been paying attention and not dozing in her chair.

"I hope so," Anna answered without glancing up and turned a page in the book she was reading. "Stop doing that with your foot."

He put out his tongue at her. A sudden loud snore erupted from Nanny, and he watched with a certain fascination as her chin dipped lower into the ruffles of her dress. It almost looked as though the black cloth was sucking her face down and eating it.

"I'm bored," he said, kicking the chair a little harder.

"You're supposed to be writing your letters for practice. Perhaps then you wouldn't be bored," she advised with a definite edge to her voice.

"I don't want do letters. I want go outside."

"Nicky," Anna said. "Do you think Papa likes Miss Lockhart?" She pinned him with an intent gaze.

Nicholas blinked at this unexpected change of topic, and his foot missed the chair leg. "Well, o'course, he does," he replied at last, frowning. "She's a nice lady."

"Pretty, too," Anna said, her attention back on her book. The tone of her voice had implied something he didn't quite understand, and this irritated him.

"Everybody likes her," he said.

"Mrs. Biddleton doesn't."

Nicholas paused. He had no immediate reply for that one.

Anna stared past him with a dreamy look in her eyes. "Sometimes I wish Papa would fall in love with Miss Lockhart, and she would be our new mother."

"We already have a mother!"

"Shh, Nicky! You're going to wake Nanny up," Anna hissed. She sniffed and tossed her long braid in a way that made him want to yank it. "Mama is dead. You know that."

"She's still our mother!" he insisted, furious tears welling up in his eyes.

Anna propped her chin on her hand and gazed out the nursery window. "Miss Lockhart is only a governess anyway. I don't think Papa is allowed to marry a governess." She shrugged. "But, better Miss Lockhart than that prissy Miss Pratt."

"I don't want talk about this anymore," Nicholas said, dashing a hand across his eyes. "Let's go downstairs and get some of Cook's apple tarts."

Anna gestured at the sleeping Nanny Goodson. "She'll never let us go."

"We'll go down and be back before she wakes up." He flicked his fingers. "Quick as can be."

"Uh huh."

"You're scared," he taunted. "Scared, scared."

Her eyes narrowed. "Bet I can get down the stairs faster than you."

***

Simpson had been the butler at Verity Hall for eleven years. From the very first day, he had taken upmost pride in his position of head servant, confident knowing Lord Rockdale trusted him with the running of the manor house.

The job was his entire life, and this bothered him not a whit. After all, he had no fussing wife, no sniveling children to provide for, and no burdensome relatives. Lord Rockdale may been lord of the estate in name, but Simpson was the one who had been charged with its management.

It was no mean task to keep a grand house such as Verity Hall running smoothly, he often told himself. And today, something very like panic rose in his throat while regarding the assembly of footmen and stablemen before him, shuffling their feet and wringing their caps like a gaggle of naughty schoolboys.

Simpson took a deep breath and strove to keep his voice even. "How could this have happened? You do realize his lordship will be most displeased."

Most displeased, indeed, Simpson mused uneasily. Something like this could cost him his position. One never knew with the vagaries and whims of the nobility. But he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that Lord Rockdale would be likely very unhappy to return and find his explicit orders violated.

Robbie's face was pinched tight as his tall, muscular form pushed to the front of the group. "Someone set a fire on purpose in the laundry to draw us away from the stables, and when Willie and Tom returned to their posts," he paused to glare at two of the younger men, who ducked their heads in apparent shame, "the door was unlocked and George was gone."

"This is unacceptable," Simpson ground out. He could feel beads of perspiration gathering on his forehead.

"Aye," Robbie agreed wearily, running a hand over his face.

"Get out there and look for the bastard. Find him and drag him back," the butler ordered.

"We've looked already—" Robbie started.

"Look harder!" Simpson snapped, cutting him off. "See if anyone saw anything, for God's sake." 

Scowling, he turned his back on the group and yanked open the outside door to the kitchen. He had a strong suspicion of whom exactly had liberated George and vowed to get to the bottom of it.

And pin the blame for this debacle on someone else, he decided.

He strode through the kitchen toward the back stairway and saw his target standing before a linen closet.

"Biddleton," he bit out, "a word, if you will."

The housekeeper turned quickly to face him, her face impassive, but he noticed her hands clenched into fists.

"What do you want, Simpson?" she answered curtly. "I am far too busy to waste time with you."

His jaw tightened at her insolent tone. He had a mind to sack the housekeeper on the spot and allow her to be the scapegoat for George's escape, be she guilty or nay. But no, he told himself, he needed to investigate this matter fully. After all, he was acting in Lord Rockdale's stead as the authority figure in the house.

"Your other tasks can wait," he said. "Go to my parlor at once so that I may speak with you privately."

"Go to my parlor, he says," she mocked in falsetto. "Is that what you say to my housemaid Sally? Well, you can be certain I won't be slobbering on that shriveled knob in your breeches today or any other day," she jeered.

Shock froze him in his tracks. Surely the woman had not just said what he thought she had...

Mrs. Biddleton glanced back at him with scornful amusement. "What? You didn't realize everyone knows where you disappear to most afternoons?" She cackled. "Just keep poking it in her mouth and not her cunt, you randy arsehole. The last thing I need is an upstairs maid with a belly swelled up like she swallowed a melon."

Simpson's mouth opened and closed several times without any noise escaping.

"Shut your jaws, old man. You look like a bloated fish gapping at me that way." There was a hard gleam of malice in her eyes. "Are we finished here?"

Simpson pressed his lips together in a hard line and drew himself up to his full height. He could feel the tips of his ears turning red with temper and embarrassment. "Now, listen here, you hag," he growled.

"You better think really hard on anything you want to say to me," she shot back.

"You set that fire in the laundry and released George from the stables, didn't you? I know it was you!" he hissed.

Her chin tilted up. "That's a load of rubbish. How could I have done such a thing? I'm aught but an aging woman. Not that I didn't want to let my poor nephew out of that dark room, mind you. It was heartlessly cruel to have the boy beaten within an inch of his life and cast into that dirty hole!" She shook a finger at him. "Lady Rockdale would never have allowed such a terrible thing to happen here if she were still alive!"

Simpson rolled his eyes. "Don't start with your whining and whingeing about Lady Rockdale again. I'm wise to your contriving ways, and his lordship is going to get a full report of my suspicions on how you helped your nephew flee the stables, just you wait and see."

"Do you think the earl is going to listen to you?" the housekeeper demanded, her face gleamed with flush and sweat.

Simpson pursed his lips in distaste at the spittle collected at the corner of her lips.

She snorted. "He's too busy shoving his cock between the legs of that hussy disguised as a governess. Her vile lies about George are what got him into trouble with Rockdale, mark my words!"

"Shut your crude mouth, you old besom!"

"But I suppose George got off easy if you consider what the earl is capable of," Mrs. Biddleton lashed out, her chest heaving. "Look at what he did to my poor, sweet Lady Rockdale. Might as well have broken her neck himself! You know as well as I do that her blood is on Rockdale's hands!"

A loud gasp nearby interrupted Simpson's intended crushing reply. Turning swiftly, he saw to his horror the earl's children standing transfixed and wide-eyed on the stairs, sure to have heard at least the last portion of his conversation with the raving housekeeper.

"Oh, my God," Simpson whispered. "Children!" he thundered. "Where is Nanny Goodson?"

The children whirled around as though to escape back up the steps.

"Wait right there, you two!" he commanded, striding to intercept them.

The earl's daughter, Lady Anna, froze on the steps, but the young boy Nicholas never hesitated. He sprinted up the stairs and vanished from view within moments.

Simpson gnashed his teeth and bit back the profanity hovering on his lips. Every bit of this disaster was the housekeeper's fault, he fumed.

Taking the girl firmly by the arm, he turned to inform Biddleton their discussion was far from finished. To his surprise, the hallway was empty and the housekeeper no where to be seen.

Simpson grimaced in displeasure. He muttered under his breath while hustling Lady Anna up the stairs. Not only did he have an escaped footman on the loose, now he must track down the earl's son as well, he thought sourly.

Blast that woman!

***

"What do you remember of your mother?"

Eliza felt Rockdale stiffen at her question. They reclined side by side upon a spread blanket in the stone wall-enclosed gardens of the townhouse.

The afternoon sun trickled softly through the large trees shading the gardens, their leaves casting mottled shadows over Eliza and Rockdale from the slight breeze caressing the foliage into a gentle dance of movement.

A bird trilled brightly, and Eliza could almost imagine they lounged somewhere in the countryside, far away from London. And, now she considered it, the entire two weeks they had spent together in the cottage-like townhouse seemed rather dreamlike.

Rockdale tossed a bit of cheese into this mouth and chewed without answering her query for several moments. "Here, have another sandwich. You barely ate a bite of toast for breakfast," he chided.

"My appetite felt a little off this morning," she began then frowned. "Don't avoid my question."

He puffed out a long-suffering sigh and fell back on his elbows. "I was very young when my parents died. I hardly recall her at all."

Eliza picked up the proffered sandwich Rockdale had left perched on her knee. She was rather still hungry, she decided. "What can you remember, then?"

He looked away and over her shoulder. "She was pretty," he said at last, a bit grudgingly.

She nodded encouragingly and took a bite of the sandwich. "And?" she prompted after swallowing.

"She always seemed to be smiling." His gaze narrowed as though concentrating on elusive memories.

"How did they die?" she asked hesitantly.

Rockdale sat up and drained the last of the ale from the glass bottle he held. "Fever," he finally replied, jamming the cork stopper in the bottle. "We lived in a house here in London, my parents and I...and they had an infant daughter as well."

"Oh," Eliza said in surprise. "I didn't realize you had a sister."

"Yes, well, she was only a few months old. Nearly the half the household came down with the damned sickness." He avoided her gaze. "My mother died first, then the baby, then my father. My nursemaid, too." Clearing his throat, he brushed at his coat, though Eliza could see no lint or dirt. "I've been told I almost succumbed as well, but for some unfortunate reason I was spared."

His smile was tinged with bitterness. "Better my father would have lived. I was never an acceptable replacement in the old bastard's eyes—the previous earl," he clarified.

His paternal grandfather, she thought and laid a hand over his clenched fist. "What was your sister's name?"

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Genevieve. She...would grab hold of my finger. I can remember leaning over her little bed."

Rockdale began roughly shoving the remains of their lunch into the basket Mrs. Crawley had provided. "I was the first one to become sick, you know. It's likely my fault they all came down with it."

"William..." she murmured. "You were only a young boy. You can't possibly blame yourself."

"They say I killed Isabelle as well, did you know that?" Rockdale rose up from the blanket in a surge of movement and glared down at her.

Startled by the sudden change of topic, Eliza tilted her head back to look at him. "Er...your wife? Who says?"

He gestured in the air. "My supposed friends, my staff, the bloody ton, everyone whispered it behind my back."

"But, wasn't it a carriage accident?"

"Yes," he bit out. "The wheel came entirely off. They say I must have sabotaged the vehicle." He rubbed the bridge of his nose and began to pace.

His head whipped around. "And I wished her dead that day, by God! I wished it! Her and dammed Miles Barlow, too."

"You didn't sabotage the carriage."

His hand fell to the side. "No, I didn't." He was silent a moment. "It was raining and muddy. She was determined to get away from me. We had argued terribly. The things we said..." He shook his head. "The carriage was traveling too fast for the condition of the road, they told me. It hit a deep rut...the wheel came off as they made a sharp turn. The vehicle overturned..."

She winced. "Oh, William. That is horrible. I'm so sorry."

Rockdale sighed and folded his long length back beside her on the blanket. "I can be ruthless, rude, and even heartless." 

He met her upturned gaze and lifted a hand to trace the ivory silk ribbon threaded through the neckline of her new cerulean blue day dress. "And even though I despised the fact that Isabelle had bedded other men while married to me, I still would never have harmed her."

His low voice sent a shiver that raised the fine hairs on the exposed bit of her nape beneath her bonnet. 

"Eliza," he murmured, his eyes almost hesitant as he met her gaze. "I apologize if my attentions have been too...aggressive at times. It was not well done of me, especially the first time I took you—" he broke off, frowning.

Her heart thumped faster, remembering how he had tied her arms and covered her body with his own, savagely asserting his power over her. The veil of her innocence and naivety had been ripped away. Never again could she be that simple country girl untouched by a man's fierce desire and single-minded possession.

His actions should have revolted her—and when she used her brain and logical senses—they did. And yet, deep down, some base, inexplicable female part of her being responded to his male domination...perhaps even, if she were being completely honest with herself, yearned for it. Even when she told herself that only some sort of demented female with a lack of dignity and self-respect would possibly enjoy such a thing.

How could this be normal behavior for a gently raised woman she wondered with a hint of desperation. How could it be that even knowing the manner in which he had coerced her and cornered her into such an intimate, erotic relationship, still she longed with every fiber of her being to turn her face into his hand that was cupping her neck...to close the small distance between them and press her cheek against his.

This man is not for you, she lectured herself sternly. Then why does he feel like mine, her heart wept.

Deliberately, she turned from his intent, searching gaze and watched a sparrow alight from its perch above them and fly away over the trees. In that moment she longed to be like that bird, free to soar and escape, free to live and go as it wished.

She swallowed, her throat tight, because unlike the little sparrow, Eliza was not free, not truly.

Though the Crawleys had seen that her every want was seen to during their time here, a comfortable cage remained yet a cage. She felt a rush of chagrin at how the quiet, domesticated arrangement had beguiled her, relaxed her, and lowered her defenses. She and William had spent most of the days and nights together—leisurely walks in the garden, lazy afternoons reading and talking, sometimes arguing and laughing.

At times, Rockdale would leave to see about his business and financial affairs, and she found herself contented to share a cup of tea with Mrs. Crawley by the cozy kitchen fire. The Crawleys' daughter Jane would pop in to visit on many afternoons, always with a humorous story or two to share.




Carnal Knowledge Ch. 13-14



In the evenings when dinner was finished and the Crawleys retired, she and William would enjoy a game of chess or cards until Rockdale silently stood and extended his hand to her, leading her upstairs to the bedchamber. Once the door closed behind them, it felt as though they had left behind the world of decorum and civility, entering a realm of private sensuality where he would strip away her outer layers of propriety along with her clothing.

And once she had been bared and exposed, body and soul, William continued the lessons in her carnal education. Often he would demand nothing short of her complete and total submission, kneeling before him while awaiting the manner in which he would take his pleasure from her body.

The things he had done to her and demanded in return still at times could shock her to the core. He could render her mindless with passion and desire and make love to her so sweetly her eyes would brim with unshed tears.

But never did he speak aloud of his feelings for her. And though Eliza felt her foolish heart aching to soften, she could never allow herself to forget how he continued to manipulate her for his own enjoyment.

"Eliza," William said, taking her hands into his own, drawing her attention back to him and the present. "There is something I wish to ask you."

The sound of raised voices snagged their attention away from one another. She and Rockdale stood, startled when a lean, well-dressed, but disheveled, man burst out of the French garden doors.

A clearly distraught Mr. Crawley followed close on his heels. "My lord!" she gasped in alarm. "This deranged person pushed his way into the house!"

Rockdale immediately assumed his normal deceptively lazy stance, eyeing the intruder with icy derision. "Don't fret, Mrs. Crawley, this pathetic rodent is forever forcing himself into places where he doesn't belong."

The other man's face reddened, and his hand fisted, a bark of bitter laughter erupting from his lips. Without acknowledging Rockdale, he turned his attention to Eliza, doffed his hat and bowed low.

"Good afternoon, Miss. I hope you will excuse my unannounced arrival. I am Lord Atherton." His eyes traveled Eliza's form in a leisurely way that made her stiffen. "Assuming you are Rockdale's newest ladybird," he continued, "I would advise you to have a care for your safety. This so-called gentleman has a heart of the blackest coal, you know. He murdered his own wife. I hardly think he would blink at getting rid of a piece o' common fluff like you."

********************************

Chapter 14

"Shut your stupid mouth, Barlow." Rockdale's voice brimmed with quiet menace. "Or it's you I'm going to murder."

"I'm surprised you haven't already," Atherton returned scathingly. "You've ruined my chance of marrying Caroline Stanley, you asinine son of a bitch. Pelham's butler informed me this morning I was no longer welcome to call at their townhouse. No one seems willing to extend me credit in town. My gambling debts are suddenly being called in, and I'm being forced to move out of my lodgings!" His voice climbed until he was shouting, his face a mottled red. "I know it's your doing, all of it!"

Rockdale appeared mildly amused. "You should have accepted your title and slunk away to Dartmoor. If you think I'm going to stand by and watch you marry my cousin and cavort around town spending Pelham's money, you're sadly deluded."

"Why must you take everything away from me?" Atherton demanded. "Wasn't it enough you stole my dear Isabelle from me? You had her struck down because she would have rather been with me!"

"She wasn't your Isabelle," Rockdale snarled. "She was my wife. Something you should have respected because you were supposed to be my bloody friend. And I did not arrange her death, you fool. Do you honestly believe I would take my children's mother away from them?"

"Yes!" Atherton cried, a tear escaping to run down his cheek. "Yes, I do! You're a cold-blooded bastard without a care for anyone. You always had everything I wanted, but you never appreciated any of it!" His voice cracked with emotion.

To Eliza, it seemed almost as though time slowed to a blur as Atherton reached beneath his coat and produced a short-barreled pistol. A gasp bubbled up from her dry throat when he raised and aimed it shakily at Rockdale.

"For God's sake, Miles," Rockdale growled. "Put the fucking gun down before I take it away from you and shoot you for being an idiot." He glanced at Eliza. "Go in the house," he ordered.

"You're an idiot for continuing to provoke him!" she hissed. "He's distraught, and he has a gun pointed at you!"

"Yes," Rockdale said with an edge. "And he might miss and hit you by mistake, so go in the goddamn house."

"Stop talking as though I'm not here!" Atherton said shrilly.

"Miles," Eliza said.

Atherton flinched slightly and unfastened his eyes from Rockdale and shifted his gaze to Eliza. "I'm sorry you are witnessing this, my dear," he said, voice tight. "Rockdale is correct for this once. You should go inside."

"Go now, damn you, woman," Rockdale insisted in a low growl.

"Miles," Eliza tried again, careful to keep her voice soft. "I think you know in your heart William wasn't responsible for Isabelle's death. It was a tragic accident."

The gun trembled. "Either way, she is gone," Atherton replied sharply, another tear streaking down his face. "I'm trying to move forward, but he is determined to ruin my life!"

"You were wrong to have a liaison with a married woman, Miles," she gently reproached. "Rockdale felt betrayed because he trusted you. Of course, he is bitter, can you blame him?"

"Christ," Rockdale muttered. "Just shoot me."

Atherton slowly lowered the gun. "But, Isabelle pursued me!" he protested. "How was I to resist her when she explained how alone she felt?" He glared at Rockdale. "Do you know how you hurt her by taunting her with all the women you were bedding?"

Rockdale ran a hand over his face. "I never once was unfaithful to Isabelle, not once. And I never boasted of it to her, either. Did you ever see me with a mistress? Other women?"

There was silence in the garden for a few moments before Atherton finally spoke. "That doesn't mean it did not happen. Isabelle wouldn't have lied to me."

"Right," Rockdale said flatly. "This conversation is over. Why don't you get the hell out of my garden?"

Atherton licked his lips, frowning. "Not until you agree to stop trying to run me out of town. But perhaps..." He paused, wavering. "Yes, perhaps there is blame on both sides. Can we not just continue with our lives?"

Rockdale's entire countenance looked as though he had been chiseled from stone. "I cannot forgive you or forget what you have done. It was because of you that Isabelle and I argued that evening, and if we had not, she might not have died running away."

The other man blanched as though Rockdale had delivered a physical blow.

"My children lost their mother because of you. Now get out of my sight and stay that way if you wish to continue your meager existence."

Atherton stared down at the gun in his hand for a long moment. Eliza felt her heart beat ratchet up in dread, wondering if he might yet shoot the the both of them.

The man finally lifted his head with a small huff of laughter. "You're the fool, Will. I was never your friend," he spat. "Oh, it suited me well enough to pretend. After all, you had plenty of coin to spare for all of my lovely vices, and I was only too happy to bed your cast-off lady friends."

Atherton nodded. "Yes, they got a taste of a real man with me...just as your wife did. Isabelle was right when she told me a wooden stick has more warmth and life than you do. Is it any wonder she preferred me over you?" A nasty smile curled his lips. "I do have to admit, though; I got a special thrill from fucking your wife right under your nose. She particularly loved taking my cock in your bed," he finished crudely.

Eliza's eyes darted to William in shock, fearful of his reaction to Atherton's vile words.

Rockdale snorted. "You really are a stupid son of a bitch, aren't you? From what I understand, Isabelle "particularly loved" taking any number of available cocks. You are nothing special to anyone. And, it appears you have nothing except a lungful of hot air and a plethora of fake tears. Now, go away like a good little weasel." Rockdale made a shooing motion.

Atherton's chest heaved up and down. "You aren't going to get the best of me this time, Rockdale."

Rockdale pantomimed a yawn. "Did you hear that line on the stage? You've been dying to repeat it, I'll wager."

"Bastard. Enjoy your playtime with your newest whore while you can," Atherton shot back. "Because I'm going to knock you down a peg or two when you don't expect it."

With that parting shot, he strode away towards the iron garden gate, avoiding the house all together.

She released a deep breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Good heavens," she said faintly.

"Dammit, Eliza, you look like you're going to drop like a stone." He grabbed her elbow. "You little simpleton, he could have killed you!"

Mrs. Crawley met them at the garden doors, wringing her hands. "My lord, I'm so sorry. Mr. Crawley has gone to the market, and I was unable to keep that gentleman from bursting inside."

"It's quite all right, Mrs. Crawley," Rockdale said. "There's nothing you could have done." He guided Eliza to the small parlor. "Bring us some tea, won't you?"

The buzzing in Eliza's ears finally receded once she had gulped down half a cup of sweetened tea. Rockdale sat improperly close on the sofa, his hand warm and solid on the back of her neck.

"If anyone points a gun at me again, you must promise to leave immediately."

"Perhaps next time it will be me with the gun," she countered, slanting him a glance upward.

"Minx," he chided without heat.

She flicked a searching glance over his face. "Are you all right?"

His expression shuttered. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, I don't know, perhaps because your former friend just broke into your home and threatened to shoot you!"

She stifled a gasp of surprise as he hauled her up and over to sit sideways across his lap. 

"William! Twould serve you right if I sloshed hot tea in your lap!"

He nuzzled her neck. "The threat of guns and flung-about tea doesn't daunt me."

Eliza tried to wiggle off his lap. "You are avoiding discussing what happened. I think you need to stop keeping so much of your feelings inside of you. Now, let me down."

Rockdale ignored her and held fast to her hip. "You were quite fearless out there, defending me under threat of gunfire. I'm not sure if I should thank you or haul your skirts up and beat your pretty arse."

"I don't see how you can be so cavalier about all this," Eliza said. "He could have killed you!"

"Barlow doesn't have the balls to shoot me." His hand slid under her skirts to toy with the top of her stocking. "You know...I've heard it said before that courting death can make a man very randy afterward."

"Breathing seems to make you very randy," she observed wryly, squirming as his mouth found her earlobe.

His snort of laughter gusted in her ear as his free hand tugged the drawstring bow loose at the top of her bodice. The material slithered apart to reveal the upper curves of her breasts. "God bless Madame Bissette. The woman is truly a genius."

Eliza cast her eyes heavenward at his fervent praise of the dressmaker then bit back a moan when he lowered his head and ran his open mouth over the flesh he had exposed, dipping his tongue into her cleavage.

"William, Mrs. Crawley is right outside!" she reminded him in a heated whisper. "The door isn't even closed all the way."

"Then you'll have to be quiet won't you, my dear?" he said, plucking the tea cup from her hands and placing it on a side table.

He tossed her back onto the cushions and raked her skirts upward as he settled between her legs.

"You're a beast," she reproved, frowning despite the illicit excitement starting to course through her body.

He growled softly, biting at her breasts, and she found herself forcing back a giggle.

William winked at her. "But I'm your beast."

Her heart lurched, and she bit her lip as he palmed her breast and pinched hard at her nipple. It was at these playful moments with William when her defenses against him were woefully weak. 

The maddening man began tugging so roughly at the neckline of her bodice she feared the delicate material would rip.

"Don't tear my new dress!"

"I want to see your titties." His eyes narrowed as though daring her to defy him. His fingers fisted in the cloth, looking ready to rend it apart.

"Insufferable," she muttered. The sensible part of her brain wanted to slap away his hands and refuse his physical demands, but the flare of heat in his eyes and crude assertion of his authority over her created an answering inexplicable surge of desire between her legs.

Breathing quickening, she helped him impatiently pull her loosened bodice and shift down until her nipples were exposed. The new corset she wore was so scandalous, the cups only cradled the bottom half of her breasts, leaving the sensitive tops bare to rub against the fine lawn of her shift.

He laved them now with his mouth and tongue, sucking hard on the tips until they were shining and pink.

She shuddered, arching up closer to his mouth when he blew cool air across her naked breasts. 

"So pretty," he breathed.

Rockdale guided her hand down to his groin where his cock strained at the cloth of his trousers.

She released the buttons at his wordless demand, his fingers still encircling her wrist. He sprang hot and hard against her palm, and she reflexively wrapped her fingers around his length.

"More," he grunted. "Stroke my cock."

She obeyed, squirming as he released her wrist to delve his hand between her thighs. Her newly tailored lacy pantaloons were almost completely open back to front and offered little barrier to him when Rockdale cupped her there, tugging on the damp curls, rubbing the seam of her mound.

Eliza thrust the soft pad of the palm against her mouth to muffle the sounds that kept escaping her lips. She worked to spread her legs further and undulated her hips, seeking to deepen his light touch.

"More," she echoed him.

He obliged her with a groan of male appreciation when his finger parted the puffy lips and slid inside.

His chuckle rumbled low and dark, and she felt his staff pulse within her grasp. "Is this what you wanted, love?"

She bit down on her hand as his wicked fingers dipped into her wetness and circled her pearl lazily. He drew her nipple back into his hot mouth, sucking in tandem with flicks and circles of his thumb over the center of her pleasure.

His cock grew slick in her grasp as the moisture pearling from the head increased. She tightened her grip, causing him to hiss and shove himself faster through her fist. 

William stabbed a finger deep into her center, and her hips moved eagerly against his hand.

"That's right," he muttered. "You feel it, too, don't you, sweetheart?"

Whatever it was, she was caught up in its seductive beguilement. Perhaps the encounter with Atherton had shaken her more than she wished to admit. And heaven help her but there was something about coupling with William that made her feel so very  alive.

Eliza used her free hand to sink into his hair and tugged his head around. She sought his mouth, licking over his lips, pumping her hand up and over the head of his cock.

Their mouths fused in a duel of tongues and open mouths. Seeming to sense her urgency, his fingers glided over her pearl grew more forcefully and quickly sent her flying over the edge, her climax spilling over and rippling through her body in dazzling and dizzying bursts of sensation.

Rockdale impatiently pushed her fingers from his cock and used his own hand to guide the engorged staff through her slick intimate folds, shoving her thighs even wider.

Her inner muscles were still spasming from her orgasm when he thrust inside her, pushing relentlessly until he had filled her entire sheath with his cock.

The cloth and buttons of his jacket abraded her bare breasts as his large body pressed her down into the plush cushions. It was almost unbearably erotic to feel her exposed skin against his completely clothed figure. His breath rasped hot against her neck and ear while his hips unhurriedly worked against her exposed center.

Eliza grasped his lapels with both hands, impatient with his leisurely pace. She could feel another peak building, just beyond her grasp.

"William," she murmured. "I need—"

Mrs. Crawley's shoes clicked over the wood floor in the hallway, her voice carrying clearly from outside the room. "Shall I bring more tea, my lord? I have some nice pastries that will be ready soon."

Eliza froze in horror, wordlessly shoving at Rockdale's chest.

The rogue never wavered in his slow, inexorable penetration, feeding her his entire hard length one inch at a time before working himself out again.

She broke into a sweat, compelled to jump up, but she was unable to move. William would not budge, damn him.

"Let me up! Let me up!" she squeaked, panicking.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Crawley," Rockdale answered smoothly. "I have all I require at the moment."

"Very good, my lord! I'll let you know when the pastries are finished. I'm going to fill them with that special cream icing Miss Eliza told me she enjoys so much."

At this, Rockdale did pause, deep inside her. He cleared his throat and resumed the pumping of his cock. "I'm sure we'll both thoroughly enjoy it, Mrs. Crawley. Thank you."

Eliza finally drew in a breath at the sound of Mrs. Crawley's retreating tread. "You have no shame at all!" she hissed. "What if she had come inside?"

Rockdale's shoulders shook with mirth. "Then I suppose she might have witnessed me coming inside you with my own special cream icing."

"Oh, for heaven's sake!"

"I know you like it," he informed her smugly. "She said so."

A snort escaped her and then they were both giggling like lunatics.

Her laugh turned into a soft moan with he began moving his cock firmly inside her once more.

"William," she breathed, looking up at him a bit uncertainly. "Perhaps we shouldn't..."

"The hell we shouldn't," His open mouth descended upon hers again, forestalling any more discussion. His thrusts became hard and rough, his kisses hungry and demanding.

Eliza pushed her hips to meet his, forgetting embarrassment in her greed for another peak of pleasure, her core clenching around his cock as it thrust inside, stretching her tender flesh again and again. She slid her hand down, past the rumpled mounds of her rucked up skirts and pushed in between their flush bodies.

She suckled on his tongue as her fingers found the tight bud of her pearl and stroked it. Her bottom jerked upward against the dual pleasurable burn of his penetration and her own ministrations.

"Are you ready for your cream, love?" he teased in a raspy murmur against her lips. "Because I'm aching to give it to you, fill that little cunny up until you're dripping with my seed."

A whimper escaped her mouth though she fought to hold it back. Dear God! The obscene things he often whispered during their lovemaking never failed to set her aflame with passion.

"I want it...yes, please, I want it," she shamelessly begged, desperate for more.

Rockdale used a fistful of her hair to tug her head back, exposing the bare line of her throat. He worked his lips and teeth down the column of sensitive skin.

"Such a very good girl," he rasped, biting down on the juncture of her neck and shoulder while his hips shifted to change the angle of his cock's penetration.




Carnal Knowledge Ch. 13-14



Eliza jerked and abruptly her second peak rose up in a forceful wave, crashing over her body in a flood of pleasurable vibrations between her legs. She clutched at his broad shoulders and slid her hands down his back, her nails digging in to the thick fabric of his coat.

William quickly muffled her choked cries with his mouth and thrust harder, faster, and deeper into her sheath, his penis somehow seeming grow even more swollen inside of her.

Both of his hands slid into her hair and tightened as though holding her in place, staring down at her with a single-minded intensity as he found his own release, his cock pulsing as it pumped inside her.

"My darling, my sweet darling," he breathed against her mouth, his lips dragging over her cheek and nibbling down her throat.

Eliza trembled, still pinned and spread wide beneath his heavy weight. William seemed in no hurry to move, pressing lazy kisses to her shoulder and collar bone. 

If only she really were his darling instead of his whore, she thought wretchedly, squeezing her eyes closed.

The unwelcome word blazed in her mind like a beacon. Whore. You're nothing but his filthy whore, a voice taunted. Remember how Lord Atherton looked at you in the garden, don't you? He saw you as nothing but a common strumpet.

And truly, it wasn't far from the truth, was it? Rockdale took her whenever and however he pleased, and she loved it, craved it, even. He commanded and she obeyed, kneeling down, or on her back spreading her legs to receive his cock. And wanton that she was, she practically purred in ecstasy each and every time.

She turned her head, tears welling up in her eyes. Now that her passion had abated, she could hear the faint voices of the Crawleys in the kitchen. Instantly, she felt enveloped in shame.

It was one thing to allow him take her in the privacy of his bedroom, but this...this was...

Rockdale groaned gustily against her skin. "I'll never look at this sofa the same way."

Eliza shoved hard at his chest. "Let me up." 

He didn't obey at once, continuing his slow trail of kisses to the curve of her breast and nuzzling.

"Let. Me. Up," she ordered.

Rockdale finally looked up, his satisfied smile fading as he looked upon her face. He frowned.

"What is it, dove?" He shifted his weight off her and stood, tucking himself back into his trousers and buttoning up.

"Don't call me that," she said, glaring at him. How dare he look like he had not even a hair out of place, whilst she was a wrinkled, half-undressed mess. She pushed a damp curl off her cheek and tugged her bodice up, trying to shove her breasts down into place.

"Darling?" he asked, his brow furrowed as he reached out toward her sagging bodice. "Shall I..."

"No." She stood up as well, shaking her skirts out and smoothing down the wrinkles. "I am most definitely not your darling."

"Yes, you are." Rockdale eyed her like she had taken leave of her senses. "What—" He stopped and shook his head as though clearing it. "Did I hurt you?" He moved closer and tried to take her hands. "Was I too rough?"

She dodged him and turned away, closing her bodice up tightly.

"No," she finally answered. "It is this place." She gestured around forcefully.

"Ahh, well, if you'd have insisted, we could have gone upstairs to fuc—"

"No!" she hissed, cutting him off. "It's this house! You keeping me here!"

His expression immediately cooled. "I didn't realize you were so miserable spending time here with me. I actually thought we were enjoying one another's company."

Her cheeks heated and some of her ire eased. "I did enjoy—oh, William." She sat back down on the couch with a sigh, covered her face and attempted to marshal her thoughts into some sort of rational order.

Eliza raised her head at last to look at him. His face was inscrutable.

"I keep hearing Lord Atherton call me your whore," she whispered. "The way that he looked at me..."

Rockdale made an impatient noise. "He's a arse. It doesn't matter what he says."

She smiled sadly. "But, don't you see, William. It's true."

"Bloody hell. You are not a whore."

Eliza couldn't meet his eyes. "We had an agreement," she started and faltered. Be strong, she told herself. You cannot allow this madness to continue any longer.

She lifted her chin in resolve. "It was not an honorable agreement, and I will never forget your treatment of me and the complete disregard you had for my feelings."

He scowled and opened his mouth, and she raised a quelling hand.

"Nevertheless," she said. "I expect you to honor our bargain with honor. I have decided that this time spent here in London should complete my..." She cleared her throat. "tutelage."

"You've decided, have you?" Rockdale's eyes narrowed. "I ended our bargain, if you will recall," he said coldly. "You refused to leave and begged me to reconsider."

Eliza flushed all over, remembering how she had abandoned her dignity and pleaded for the sake of her family. "You gave me no choice!"

"There are always choices, Eliza. Perhaps you made the one you really wanted, if you're brave enough to be honest with yourself."

She bristled with indignation. "Don't attempt to justify what you did to me!"

His silky laughter sent a shiver down her spine almost as though he had trailed a finger there. "You're lying to yourself if you're trying to tell me you don't revel in each and every climax you find in my embrace."

He took a step forward. "I could make you come again now, in mere minutes," he murmured, his half-smile hardening around the edges.

"Yes, you could," she answered. "But that's not what I want. What I want is for you to give me the deed to my family's cottage as you promised. And to release me."

Her words hung between them for several moments. She waited stiffly for his reply, unsure whether he would react as the icy Earl of Rockdale or erupt into anger.

This was the only option, Eliza vowed. She could no longer pretend to be in control of herself when she was with him, and she couldn't keep blaming William for leading her astray.

To her surprise, he turned away and stepped over to the window, staring out silently until her nerves threatened to overtake her. She longed to leap up and shake him until he showed some kind of real reaction.

When he finally broke out of his reverie and approached her slowly, his voice was low and thoughtful. "Despite some of my actions, it has never been my intention to truly hurt you or abuse you in any lasting way. In the beginning..." he paused, met her gaze before looking away. "I suppose I didn't really see you as anything more than a beautiful object I could possess and enjoy. I'm used to manipulating my world to suit my needs, and generally, no one tells me I cannot."

She lifted an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.

"I want you to know I've come to see that you are more than just a vessel for me to mold and teach." William studied her for a moment. "Eliza, somehow you draw me away from the darkness that is always around me, pulling me under, smothering me."

A frown furrowed her brow. "I don't understand."

He shoved a hand through his hair. "When I'm with you I feel as though I am more than merely a spectator watching my life pass by. Something I haven't felt for a long time."

William eased down to sit beside her. "And I want to make you happy, not sad," he said gently. "I wish to protect you and keep you safe from harm." He took her hands within his larger ones. "And I certainly do not desire to darken your spirit or hurt you." His thumbs rubbed circles on her palms. "What I do want more than anything is for us to stop the pretense of this silly bargain. I want you to become my mistress."

She stiffened and pulled back.

"Don't say no," he said quickly, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Let me make you happy, Eliza. I can, if you only will allow me."

Tears prickled in her eyes. "I don't—"

Ever so slowly, he slid an arm around her shoulders and drew her close to him. His hand slid in gentle circles over her back. "Sweetheart," he murmured. "Won't you please stay with me?"

She angled her head away, struggling to take a deep breath. It was nigh on impossible to think clearly with his hand lightly caressing her back, his scent filling her nose, and his body so close. 

"What of my family? Where would I live?" she asked, despising the fine tremor in her voice.

"I will be permanently responsible for your family's well being and their financial needs," he assured her. "I'll see your sister is outfitted with a new wardrobe and find her a suitable husband when the time comes, if you wish. Neither of them, nor you, will want for a single thing ever again."

"Goodness," she said faintly.

"You could live here with the Crawleys. I think you might enjoy that. If not, I will buy you a grander home, anything you desire, wherever you would like. Of course, I would need to spend some time with the children, but often we would be together. I could show you about town, the theater, museums, or whatever you wanted. We could travel to the Continent. See Paris, Rome, Venice, all of it...any of it."

"I—I don't know..." The bloody man was like a drug, weakening her resolve and her intentions.

Rockdale brushed his lips over her jaw and rubbed his nose gently against hers. "Just say yes," he coaxed. "We could have a grand adventure, just the two of us."

"William, do you care for me?" The question seemed to rise up from within her and burst from her lips.

He leaned back and didn't answer immediately. A painful coldness bloomed and settled in her chest. Apparently, his response had mattered more than she realized it would.

She moved to stand, but he held firm. William gripped her chin with one hand and regarded her with an odd, troubled expression.

"All I know is that I cannot bear the thought of letting you go," he said in a low rasp.

"That sounds much more like possession than actual emotion," she snapped. "I'm getting more than a bit tired of being swept along in the tide of whatever Lord Rockdale wants."

A muscle spasmed in his jaw. "I'm wondering if you were fucked so thoroughly just now that it knocked the good sense clear out of your head. Perhaps we should discuss this later when you are in a more rational state of mind."

"If I were...you arse! Do not patronize me," she growled and stabbed a finger into her chest. "I am a person, too, in case you hadn't noticed. I have wants and wishes of my own. And they do not include becoming the mistress of a man who desires to keep me tucked away in some little house so he can come and rut with his own personal little whore anytime he wishes!"

"I've offered you carte blanche as my mistress. This is not an insignificant proposition, Eliza. You are an intelligent woman. Can you really mean you'd prefer to return to your little cottage in the country and toil away your days as some unappreciated schoolteacher?" His lip curled with a slight sneer.

"We had an agreement," she repeated quietly. "Are you going to hold to your word and honor it?

Rockdale stared back at her a moment without speaking, his expression full of something she didn't understand.

"Your first mistake was assuming I am a gentleman," he said brusquely.

"Fine," she said, the fight abruptly seeping out of her. "Give me the deed or do not, but I am going home nonetheless. It is as you said earlier. There are always choices. I just have to be brave enough to make the right ones."

Something very much like hurt passed over his face before his expression tightened into the aloof mask she had grown to despise.

"As you wish." His clipped tone was full of mockery, and he bowed slightly. "I'll be taking my leave then, so as not to bother you with my company any longer."

"William..."

"Feel free to stay another day or two before you depart. The Crawleys will, of course, continue to remain at your disposal. I'll instruct them to give you enough coin to hire a coach to carry you to your destination." He waved a hand. "I'll see that the deed to your cottage is transferred to you for services rendered."

She winced, feeling almost as though he had physically slapped her.

Rockdale frowned thoughtfully. "However, dear, don't stay here too long. I have a feeling I'll be having another...guest to stay soon."

He winked, underscoring his meaning, and she took a step backward, his barb sliding neatly through her breast bone and lodging in her heart.

She stared up at him, lips going numb and trembling. A thousand retorts sprang to her lips, but in the end, she only nodded. "I understand."

His lips whitened and suddenly his hand whipped out to grasp her elbow hard. "Eliza..."

A door slammed somewhere in the house, and she wondered with bemusement if Lord Atherton had returned with his pistol to finish the deed. However, it was Mr. Crawley's heavier tread that approached the parlor quickly.

"Pray excuse the intrusion, my lord, but 'tis important."

"Yes, yes, come in," Rockdale said, frowning and keeping his tight hold on her arm.

Mr. Crawley's face was pale. "There's an urgent messenger come from Verity Hall, my lord. The poor man rode straight in as fast as he could. He says to tell ye to come home at once. Your son Nicholas has gone missing."