Dangerous Beauty Read online

  “His has not been an easy life.” Elisa squeezed her arm a little. “But he would not harm you. You know that, don’t you?”

  Natasha’s breasts were still tender from where Seth had touched her, his fingers and mouth playing with her overly sensitive nipples. Her stomach clenched at the memory. “I know.” Her voice was a husky shell and Elisa cocked an eyebrow at her, her smile wicked.

  “That is how I feel with Vaughn.”

  Natasha smiled. “Yes, I remember that feeling with Vaughn. I hope you do not mind me saying so?”

  “We are friends, Natasha. We can discuss anything, even my husband.”

  “But it’s not the same as it is with Seth. With Seth, it’s…stronger. Harder to resist. Oh, Elisa, I make a fool of myself in his presence! I feel so ignorant!” Her eyes pricked with tears and she dashed them away.

  “Ignorance is a natural part of maidenhood, Natasha, dear. Seth must understand that, surely?”

  “But he will not teach me. He says…he says he will not—not until…”

  Elisa pursed her lips and her eyes danced. “Oh dear, I can see the shape of your dilemma clearly now,” she said, with a little laugh.

  “But I cannot!” Natasha cried and looked around quickly to see who had heard her protest. Doves fluttered at the base of the nearest tree, but there wasn’t anyone else within earshot. This was a most secluded path.

  “Of course you can’t!” Elisa replied firmly.

  “Then, for heaven’s sake, Elisa, please tell me how to give a man pleasure. How can I make him…want to take me?”

  Elisa grinned. “Where should I start?”

  Natasha bit her lip and looked over her shoulder, just to make sure they were still alone.

  “Touching him down there,” she whispered. “Men are very sensitive to touch, just as we are, but they show it in a more obvious way. You can scarcely go wrong when touching a man’s shaft.”

  “Shaft?” Natasha asked, liking the sound of it.

  “Yes, shaft…or cock, or manhood. You can use a myriad of names for his sex,” Elisa said with a coy smile. “Caress his shaft with the tips of your fingers from root to crown, then wrap your fingers around his length, moving your hand up and down in a gentle stroke. Not too fast, but not too slow either.”

  “How do I know if it is too fast?”

  Elisa laughed, a wonderful tinkling sound that made Natasha giggle. “He will tell you, usually by stilling your hand. Do not take offense, just know that you are doing it right.”

  Knowing she was being incredibly bold, Natasha lowered her voice even more. “He pleasured me the other night.”

  Elisa stopped in mid-stride and grabbed hold of Natasha’s wrist. “What do you mean?”

  “I am still virgin,” Natasha assured her. “I think I am, anyway. He did not use…his uh—manhood.”

  Elisa released a sigh. “Thank God. You must be careful, Natasha. There are consequences to such an act that none can gainsay. An unwanted child, dear lord…it would be the ruin of your life and Seth’s. But there are ways of avoiding such things.”

  Natasha’s eyes widened. “There are?” She was shocked.

  “But then, there is no need to worry about such matters for now. If Seth will not consummate the act, you are quite safe.”

  “He used his mouth in a myriad of ways.” Natasha could not help the smile that came.

  Elisa laughed loudly. “And you would like to know how to do the same to him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, one must be careful when it comes to giving oral pleasure.”

  “Is that what it’s called? Why must one be careful?”

  “Use your teeth with restraint. You do not want to hurt him. And be mindful to touch all of him, not just his cock, for it is all sensitive.”

  “There is more to him than just…just his—” Natasha’s cheeks burned remembering Seth’s erection, hidden behind his trousers. She wondered what it would look like, bared to her gaze. “Would he think me less of a lady for doing such things?”

  Elisa snorted. “Dear girl, he will adore you. Trust me.”

  “I always thought it would be different. Not as pleasurable as I’d heard.”

  “As young women we are told that giving yourself to a man is a duty, but believe me when I say there is pure pleasure in making love. Not just the act itself, but all the splendid things that go along with it. They are an entertainment all on their own.”

  Natasha considered this. “You make it sound like it is far better not to…do that.”

  “On occasions, yes,” Elisa said firmly.

  “But I want all of it!” She lowered her voice. “I burn with it. I’m not sure what it is all about, or how one goes about it, but I can feel it, down there. I ache, and feel empty. I want…” She held her gloved hands to her burning cheeks and closed her eyes. “I want him in me,” she whispered.

  “In time, Natasha. In time. For now, you should enjoy whatever Seth offers. And that is quite a considerable thing on its own. Besides—” Elisa suddenly laughed, low and with a wicked note. “Oh dear, should I?” she said to herself.

  “Elisa?” Natasha asked, puzzled.

  Elisa pursed her lips, as if she was holding back laughter. She even brought her fingertips to her mouth, pressing hard. Then she nodded, deciding. She grasped Natasha’s elbow and pushed her into walking again. “Natasha, dearest, you must listen to me carefully and trust me. I will teach you how to have your revenge upon Seth. It will be a pleasurable revenge, but Seth will pay for his refusal to give you everything you want.”

  And Elisa proceeded to explain in blunt, shocking details, the form and shape of Natasha’s revenge. Natasha listened, trying to put aside her shock so that she might absorb all the details. Elisa was thorough and frank and Natasha found her body growing warm, the cleft between her legs growing slippery with moisture and her nipples prickling hard with excitement just considering the course she might take.

  She bit her bottom lip. “And no one will know?” she whispered. “No one will suspect? My reputation will be safe?”

  Elisa gave a merry peal of laughter. “Oh, my dear, there is so much one can dare, if only one takes a few elementary precautions. For you and me, for all women, appearance is everything…”

  Totally captivated by the subject, Natasha failed to hear the crunching of approaching carriage wheels until the vehicle was almost upon the both of them. They moved aside enough to allow the carriage to pass them and Natasha glanced over her shoulder to ensure the carriage had seen them.

  It was a plain black coach, without adornment or shield upon the door. The coachman was dressed in black from head to toe and his high collar was pulled up over the lower half of his features, which was odd, for it was a cool day, but hardly crisp.

  The carriage slowed as it passed them and Elisa pulled her skirts out of the way of the wheels, for it was crowding them to the edge of the path.

  Natasha saw the carriage door open, but Elisa was not looking up. Alarmed prickled through Natasha, but it was already too late. Another man, also wearing a heavy black coat with an upturned collar and his hat low on his forehead, leaned out of the open doorway, one hand gripping the doorpost.

  With a swing of his arm, he scooped Elisa up by the waist. She shrieked and began to struggle even as he pulled her inside the carriage, which was pulling ahead.

  Natasha stood, stunned at the sudden disaster. Her mind was blank and questioning. Then she heard the carriage door thump shut and it broke her paralysis.

  “Elisa! Oh my lord, Elisa!” Natasha cried, running after the carriage.

  The coachman whipped the horses with a growled curse and the carriage rocked on its springs as it tore along the gravel path, turned around the bend ahead and disappeared.

  Think, think! Natasha told herself. The questions would have to be answered later. For now, she must act fast. She let her shawl fall to the ground, scooped up her skirts in both arms and ran off the path, directly through the tree
s and plantings.

  She headed towards The Row, where there was sure to be more traffic. When she burst out upon the wide, busy path, she made a quick decision. An open carriage was bearing towards her so she ran out into the road and stopped right in the path of the carriage.

  She dropped her skirts and held out her hands. “Stop! Stop, stop!” she screamed. The coachman’s eyes widened. He hauled on the handbrake, then threw all his weight into pulling back the horses.

  Natasha stood her ground even as the horses drew closer. Nothing could make her more afraid than she was already. The women in the carriage behind the driver were screaming, their hands over their mouths, clutching each other.

  Natasha thought she knew the older one, but the woman’s name would not come to her.

  The horses came to a halt a bare pace from her and climbed into the air, their hooves flailing. She could feel their hot breath blowing over her and she grabbed one of the halters as the horses’ hooves touched ground again, then stepped around its head so she could see the coachman.

  “Bloody ‘ell, my lady, I could’ve done you in!” the coachman bawled. His face was red and sweat rolled down his cheeks.

  “Shut up and listen!” Natasha shouted back and the ladies gasped in pure shock. She strode around the horses, making for the coachman’s steps. “My friend, Lady Fairleigh, has just been kidnapped.”

  “Wot on earth…?” the coachman said, as she lifted her skirts enough to get her boot onto the step, then hauled herself up onto the driver’s seat.

  “Move over,” she demanded. “I’m going after her.”

  “Now, look ‘ere!”

  “Oh dear!” one of the women murmured.

  Natasha straightened up to her full height and called upon every skerrick of training regarding her station in life that her mother had ever imparted. She held out her hand and poured as much upper-class haughtiness into her tone as she could. “I demand you give me the reins at once.”

  The coachman, also trained from boyhood to the complexities of class, fell into a confused silence, looking from Natasha to his two charges. “Immediately!” Natasha insisted.

  It was enough. He handed over the reins and whip and Natasha settled herself onto the seat. She had only ever handled a coach and pair once in her life, but she didn’t care. Speed was all she required from this pair. She snapped the whip. “Go, lads!” she cried. The horses lurched forward.

  Chapter Nine

  When Elisa realized that there were two men in the carriage and that they were both much stronger than her, she ceased her struggling. She was very much afraid, but knew that she must keep her head now and watch for an opportunity to escape.

  “What do you want with me?” She was relieved her voice did not tremble. It even sounded a little angry. Good.

  The man opposite her had hidden his features behind a kerchief tied about his face and had also drawn his hat down low on his forehead. He leaned towards her and she realized with a cold chill that he held a knife in his hand.

  The knife slid towards her and she shrank back until she was up against the shoulder of the man who had pulled her into the carriage. The knife kept coming closer, until it rested against her throat.

  My babe! The thought was a despairing one. She would not plead with them. She would not let them know that she would do anything to ensure the safety of the child within her.

  The knife slid from her throat, down to the swell of her breasts. She closed her eyes. Was this a matter of rape? She shuddered, but knew she would endure it. She would live beyond it and so would her child.

  Her heart wrenched for her husband. Vaughn would have the hardest time of this…

  The knife sliced her dress open and the lace fell away, to reveal her corset and the silk of her camisole. Bile rose in her throat.

  “She’s a fine bit o’lady,” the one holding the knife said. His voice was low, with a hungry note to it.

  The man holding her recognized the hunger. “’Urry up, will you? The longer we stay ‘ere, the quicker they’ll be after us.”

  The knifeman flipped the knife in his hand with an expert, casual flick of his wrist, so that he was holding the handle like a pen. Gently, he scraped the blade over the silk stretched across her breasts, bumping against the nipples beneath.

  The blade was so sharp, it severed the silk and her nipple pushed through the slit.

  “Well, look at that!” the knife man exclaimed with a hoarse voice.

  Elisa moaned sickly. She could feel a wave of nausea and dizziness pushing at her, threatening to overwhelm her, but knew she must keep her wits. She struggled, forcing herself to action.

  “Ooooh, and she writhes just like a whore, too,” the man crooned.

  “Yer a sick bastard,” the other muttered. “Let’s get on with what we were paid for. ‘E’ll not thank us for meddling with ‘er.”

  The reminder seemed to cool the knifeman’s ardor. He swore under his breath and reached into his pocket. Elisa saw something pale yellow in his hand. The other man reached around her and unhooked half of her corset.

  She began to struggle harder, as the knifeman shoved his hand inside her corset. His big hand squeezed her breast painfully.

  At all costs she must not faint. She swallowed against the rise of sickness.

  Then his hand was removed. The knifeman sat back and kicked open the carriage door with a curse.

  She saw the flash of trees and bushes swishing past the carriage. Even as Elisa tried to fathom why he would do that, the man holding her was pushing her up, onto her feet. No, not onto her feet, but through the door.

  She screamed as she flew through the air. There was a yew tree right before her, and she threw up her arms to protect her face just as she impacted against its hard, thick bole.

  * * * * *

  Seth paced before the fire, chilled to the bone despite the warmth of the room. Every now and again, he glanced at Natasha and marveled at her stillness. She stood near the big window staring out into the night. Each time he looked at her his heart stirred again and he would remember how she had brought Elisa home.

  He and Vaughn had been in Vaughn’s study when they’d heard a woman screaming, out on the street. They’d hurried to the windows, in time to see the astonishing sight of Natasha driving a carriage and pair. Her hair had come loose and hung in a long dark waterfall down her back, ruffled by the passing air. Her face had been set with an expression Seth would never forget. It was at once fearful and angry, yet determined.

  She’d had to stand to step on the footbrake with enough force to bring the frothing, driven horses to a stop. They’d halted, shivering, their eyes rolling, while Natasha screamed for Vaughn.

  Up and down the street, people were coming to a halt, sensing drama and wanting to watch.

  “Oh my god,” Vaughn breathed. He touched Seth’s arm. “Stay here. It’s broad daylight and too many are watching the house now.”

  Seth swallowed dryly and nodded, even though he wanted to dash out with Vaughn and find out what could possibly bring Natasha to such a public display.

  As soon as Natasha saw Vaughn, she pointed into the carriage and called something to him—Seth could not hear the words, for she had meant them for Vaughn alone.

  Inside the open carriage was what could only have been the real coachman and two women, all huddled together on the backseat. Vaughn turned to the front seat and dipped down. When he straightened, Elisa was in his arms.

  Seth clenched the curtain. Elisa was white as a ghost and lay in a faint in his arms. Her dress…something had ripped her dress open to the waist.

  Natasha threw the reins to the driver and climbed from the carriage. For one priceless moment, Seth saw her trim ankle, wrapped in neat blue leather and a long, slender calf in white silk stocking, before her dress fell back to the ground. She led Vaughn to the front entrance and Seth could hear her talking all the way.

  Seth hurried to the foyer and was in time to see Vaughn shoulder his way into the h
ouse, before Gilroy could push the door aside.

  Gilroy gripped the door, held it steady and Natasha took the lamp from him.

  “The bedroom,” she told Vaughn, who was heading towards the study. He glanced at her. “The bedroom,” she repeated firmly. “A doctor must be fetched to see to her.”

  Vaughn seemed to hesitate a little.

  “Vaughn, she’s bleeding from there, from the woman’s place,” Natasha said, and Seth realized that she neither stuttered nor blushed at speaking of such things before a butler, maid and two men.

  Vaughn’s face drained of color, but he nodded and turned to the stairs, taking them two at a time despite his burden. Natasha climbed right behind him, her skirts bundled up in one arm, the other holding the lamp high to show Vaughn the way. Her loose dark hair rippled all the way past her waist, to swing about her hips.

  Seth pushed on Gilroy’s shoulder. “Ye best get the doctor right quick,” he said softly.

  Gilroy nodded, staring up the stairs at his master and mistress with concern. “I’d best do that,” he agreed and stepped out the open doorway. He was wearing neither coat nor collar, for he had taken a rare afternoon away from his duty of running Vaughn’s household, but he had clearly forgotten his lack of proper attire—an event that was just as remarkable as any other this surprising day had held.

  Natasha had stayed with Vaughn and Elisa until the doctor arrived and for some time after that, while Seth had begun to pace in front of the fireplace.

  Gilroy had reappeared to stoke the fire, his tie back in place and striped jacket buttoned firmly. After he had rebuilt the fire, he poured Seth a whiskey, unasked, and held the glass out on his tray.

  “I cannot tell the young Lady Winridge that I have sent word to her family that she is here and safe. Perhaps you could let her know when she emerges from Miss Elisa’s chamber?”

  Seth nodded and Gilroy bowed and left. Seth knocked back the whiskey in one swallow and resumed his pacing.

  Finally, there had been a creak of the stairs, a quiet murmuring and the sound of the front door opening and closing.