Page 42 of The Baron’s Halo

“Sandy!”

“Hmm?” His togue slid all around, making her pant furiously.

“Sandy…what…oh, goodness…ahhh!” Her body was on fire, aching for his tongue to continue with whatever it wanted to do.

“Do you wish me to stop?”

“No…ohhh nooo…nooo…” Everything he was doing gave her more and more pleasure. Made her feel like she would explode in that delicious way any second now.

Then he touched his tongue to the little pearl he sometimes stroked with his finger, which almost always brought on her release. This time he licked the little button, swirled his tongue around it and she moaned deeply in absolute ecstasy. When he sucked the little nub into his mouth and tickled it, Isabelle’s world shattered as never before. She was hit with a deep release she felt down to her toes, wave after wave of pleasure breaking over her, ones she never wanted to cease. Each time he sucked, another wave crashed until she lay melted into the sheets, gasping for air. But she hadn’t fainted, thank God. She experienced each and every little nuance of it until she lay back limp and sated.

“Did you enjoy that, my love?” She could hear the smile in Sandy’s voice and she nodded once, too weak to do more. “Then let’s see if we can make this time even better.”

“This…time?” Struggling to draw out the words, Isabelle was so drained of her essence she didn’t believe him. “So soon?” Speaking had never been such an effort. How could she manage another release?

“Women can achieve release multiple times with little pause. You are much more fortunate than we men in that regard.” Quickly, he covered her, his weight pressing her into the mattress in a wonderful, possessive way. His lips fastened onto her nipple, tugged gently, which was more than enough to send streaks of fire down to her still throbbing core.

“You always make me feel so loved, Sandy,” she whispered as he slipped inside her, flowing forward until he was seated deeply within. “Oh, Sandy.” Her whole body was winding upward to another spectacular release, one that might send her into a permanent swoon.

Plunging into her over and over, deeper and deeper, Sandy alternated sucking on each of her nipples until Isabelle feared she’d go mad with the ecstasy of it. The rhythm built like music toward a shattering crescendo. Her heart pounded in her chest, a counterpoint to his pounding down below. Then he sped up, straining against her, pulling on her nipple until she couldn’t help but shatter around him. He called her name frantically as he spent himself on and on, filling her full of his precious essence.

Finally, leaning back on his arms, both of them drenched in sweat, Isabelle could only think that if a child should come of this joining, she was bound to protect it from anything that threatened it or her. No matter what consequences might come from that action. Ambrose Grey would never harm her again.

With that thought foremost in her mind, Isabelle relaxed, and Sandy’s protective arms embraced her. She would take Emma’s advice to heart, defend her and her husband’s future life and happiness. So help her God, no matter what it took, she would keep them all safe from any harm.

*

More cheerful than he’d ever believed possible, Sandy had just finished lunch with his grandfather and was now in search of Isabelle who he’d asked to accompany him on a carriage ride to the Kensington Arcade for an afternoon of fun and Christmas shopping. The holiday was weeks away, but they would be leaving for Scotland on Tuesday, so he wanted her to have the advantage of perusing the larger shops when securing presents for his mother and hers.

Sandy pursed his lips. He supposed it would look odd if Isabelle didn’t give her stepfather a gift as well, although thoughts of rewarding the man’s gross misbehavior stuck in Sandy’s craw. Of course, they would be spending Christmas in Scotland, far away from Grey, so any present would be a mere token. He should be able to swallow that much. If only there was some way of getting rid of the man once and for all. Perhaps he should consult with Grandfather. The man was as crafty as they came, not to mention powerful. He might come up with a more permanent solution to the problem of Ambrose Grey.

Heading for the foyer to order the carriage brought around, the sound of muffled voices in the small parlor gave Sandy pause. His grandparents weren’t receiving today. Yesterday’s entertainment had been more than enough for them.

He motioned the footman attending the door over to him. “Who is in the small parlor, as they are calling it now, George?”

“A Captain Grey called about five minutes ago for Lady MacKay, my lord. He said he was taking her driving.”

Sandy froze as though changed into an ice sculpture, staring at the footman as though he’d started speaking Japanese. “Captain Grey has called to take my wife driving? Did you send word to Lady MacKay?” The man must be mad to think Isabelle would go anywhere with him. “Has my lady come down yet?”

Something in Sandy’s face must have frightened George, for he backed up a step. “Yes, my lord. She went in a minute or two ago.”

Before George could finish his sentence, Sandy had grasped the door latch and pushed it down. The door swung open on a tableau so bizarre Sandy had to blink several times to take it in.

Captain Grey stood in front of the fireplace, hands outstretched, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Isabelle, perhaps two paces from him, a dueling pistol grasped in her shaking hand, the weapon cocked and ready to fire.

Sandy took a long breath, his mind working furiously to decipher the scene before him. He had no idea how proficient his wife was with a gun, but he’d take no chances and so would assume she had no training whatsoever and had never fired one. In that case, he had to try to get her to surrender the gun before it went off and injured her or himself. Grey he was less worried about. The situation reeked of his doing. Now he needed to discern whether Isabelle was merely attempting to frighten her stepfather or actually kill him. He suspected the latter, given the determination etched on her face. “Isabelle, I’m going to walk toward you, my dear.” He kept his voice nice and soothing. “Don’t move, please.”

She gave him a tense nod, though she did not take her gaze off Grey, whose face had gone ashen.

“MacKay, thank God.” Grey tried to take a step toward him.

“Stay where you are!” Isabelle screeched, aiming the pistol higher, toward her stepfather’s chest. “Don’t move.”

Step by step, Sandy approached her, unsure if she’d simply snapped at finding Grey in the house. But then, when and how had she gotten the pistol? “I’m right here, Isabelle.” He stepped beside her. “Will you allow me to take the weapon, sweetheart?”

Continuing to stare at Grey, his wife shook her head. “He’s threatened us, Sandy. He’s threatened to do unthinkable things to my mother if I don’t become his mistress.”

All the blood seemed to rush out of Sandy’s body at that horrible pronouncement.