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“How sweet, all four of your cheeks are of matching rosy hue,” he noted wickedly. “Come, unhook my fall and do your duty, show me your penance, sweet wife,” he ordered with mock severity.
Angele quivered with lust, not only at his base command but at the thought of pleasuring him in this lewd way. It had always given her immense satisfaction to take his solid member between her lips. To suck his tumescent erection until he became incoherent with pleasure excited her. The spurting rush of release into her mouth made her feel powerful and munificent. She worked his fall open, pulling the white tails of his shirt free, and his cock sprang forth.
She clasped the thick shaft in her hand and worked the soft skin back and forth over the iron core. She was rewarded with a gruff moan. Next she tasted him, suckling the swollen head before greedily drawing him deeper into the wet confines of her mouth. He spasmed, giving a loud gasp. She smiled about his shaft, loving the power she wielded. Tormenting him, she licked and toyed with his length until he grasped her hair, fashioning it into a long ponytail which he used to manoeuvre her head back and forth to his own satisfaction. She was no longer in control while he plundered her mouth, using her relentlessly to pleasure himself.
Angele was soaked with excitement. She wore no clothing to mop up her body’s natural reaction to her titillation, so the fluid slid down her thighs unencumbered. The scent of her arousal reached her. Unconsciously, her hand dipped between her thighs into her slippery folds where her erect pearl welcomed her stimulation. Her wrist was suddenly clasped and pulled away from her body in an exorable hold.
“Bad girl, you truly are a fallen angel,” he growled, clearly delighted.
She retaliated by opening her mouth wide and refusing to suck. He chuckled at her antics and pushed his cock deep into her mouth with a thrust. Immediately, she attempted to force him out with her tongue.
“Prepare to suck me, wench,” he ordered rhetorically.
Floundering, her mouth so full of him she could not have replied if she’d wished to, she closed her mouth about him. He jerked backwards, allowing her a lungful of air. She complied and sucked him feverishly. She continued to pleasure his length until he swelled, the tightening of his rod indicating an imminent emission. His thighs stiffened against her chest, and he released a long moan of ecstasy, his cock pulsing on her tongue as he erupted into her mouth. Giving a shout, he cried her name—sweet song to her ears.
He petted her hair then drew her to him, settling her back upon his lap. He placed a gentle kiss on her damaged shoulder where the sabre had cut deepest into her flesh. She moved about on his thigh and slipped.
“By gad, you are wet! Lie back and let me see.” He tipped her backwards onto the bed and pushed her knees apart.
She groaned with lust, his tongue sweeping up her inner thigh to where passion leaked from her core. He hummed his delight, and the spiral of tension that preceded her culmination began to unravel. His tongue touched her swollen nubbin. The final cog unwound.
“Je t’aime, oui, je t’aime!”she cried.
He explored her folds, rolling her engorged flesh betwixt his fingers, sending her into paroxysms of delight.
“My angel, how can I resist you? Dear Lord, how I have missed you, my darling. That’s it; take the pleasure I offer. Good girl…yes, yes, take your bliss and come for me. Come for me now!”
And with a tremendous wail of the sweetest relief, she did.
Chapter 12
Acouple of days later there was an unexpected thaw overnight. The temperature rose, and rain fell. It was not enough to completely clear the mass of snow but it made the highway passable. Preparations were immediately set underway for the Yuletide ball held annually since time immemorial at Michaelmas Hall. The ball had been suspended for the first three years of Angele’s reported death.
The first year it had been reinstated, Gabriel had mooched about the ballroom, finally hiding in the inner sanctum of his study where he’d found solace in the bottom of a brandy glass. Then last year he’d decided he needed an heir and had begun courting the delightfully shy Noelle Bellingham, a young blonde he thought he could successfully bed because she reminded him of his dead wife. Now that his wife was returned to him, a blessing that he had never in a million years expected, he realised what a disaster marriage to Noelle would have been. He would have become frustrated that she was not Angele and perhaps have felt guilty at bedding her. No, on reflection, he thought the young lady had had a lucky escape. Her marriage prospects wouldn’t have been harmed by this unexpected turn of events—being courted by an earl would most certainly have upped her stakes on the marriage mart.
Gabriel brooded on how he could help his wife feel comfortable out in society. He totally understood her wish to hide her face. What woman would not dread ridicule in such a situation? He decided to send out a message locally, explaining events and asking for their friends’ understanding and support. He accepted the London set could be cruel, and since he now avoided London for the most part, he would ensure that Angele was not exposed to that element of society. Local dignitaries were cut from a different cloth altogether. These were people the St. Nicholas family went back generations with, many among them he considered as friends.
So letters were sent out, including the letter Gabriel had written to the Bellingham family, a task which meant a footman undertaking the arduous journey into the capital.
* * *
While Gabriel was occupied in his study, Angele armed herself with a candle and took the opportunity to explore the attics. She was looking for masks. She knew there was a trunk stashed up there filled with various eye dominos from past masquerade balls, and it was right where she remembered, dusty with misuse. Gingerly, she swept the trunk clear of cobwebs, afraid that any moment a large spider might appear, but thankfully none did.
Digging deep, she pulled forth various moth-eaten offerings, mostly conventional eye masks that were of no use to her. Discarding them one by one, she’d almost given up hope of finding something that would cover her scars completely, when she clasped the edge of something hard. Yanking the object out into the candlelight, she squealed with delight at her find, a harlequin mask that would cover the whole of one side of her face. It appeared to be made from thin sheets of silver overlaid with gold, hammered into a chequered diamond pattern. The ribbons that held the thing in place were threadbare but they were easily replaced.
Thrilled with her find, Angele gratefully left the dusty eyrie to return to her chamber, leaving the lofty space to the creepy crawlies and spiders that no doubt lurked in the shadows just waiting for her to leave.
Her punishments had continued until Gabriel considered her debt paid. She felt happier, lighter, fully absolved. Gabriel had insisted that they put the past behind them now and concentrate on their new beginning. She’d readily agreed, feeling free-spirited since her final punishment. She had forgotten how well her husband understood her psyche. Her guilt assuaged, she felt able to plan for the Yule and Christopher’s arrival.
With her son’s future in mind, her next visit that day was to the nurseries. She found them in a deplorable state. Not cleaned or decorated in years, the rooms were furnished with rusty iron beds and mouldering curtains. A plethora of broken and discarded toys lay scattered about amidst damaged chairs and tables dumped there, presumably awaiting a repair that had never been attempted. There was no way these rooms could possibly be prepared in time for Christopher’s arrival.
She strode into her husband’s study without the customary knock. “How do you intend to accommodate our son, because I have just come from the nurseries, and the rooms are in terrible disrepair? I wouldn’t kennel a dog there, let alone my precious boy and his nursery maids.”
“Where do you suggest our son should sleep then, other than in the nursery?” Gabriel asked, appearing nonplussed by her question.
Angele stamped her foot. “You are not taking this seriously. Have you even been up there since I was last living here?”
“Well, no, I have not, but…” he began, looking rather sheepishly at her
