Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dropping his hand, he casually wiped it on a napkin before unceremoniously reaching out and hauling her onto his lap, before his hand landed on her backside. She jumped at the sweet sting, eyes wide. “Did—did you just spank me?”
“Imprudent misses need to be punished,” he said. “There will be more if you keep teasing me.”
“I have not teased you a day in my life,” she said indignantly while letting a shoulder of her wrapped slip down an arm.
Cedric pulled the lacy straps of her negligee down her shoulders, and Ariadne felt the fierce focus of his eyes on her; the way he stared at her was as if he were unwrapping a present.
His fingers skimmed over the petal-soft beneath his fingertips, and drew the soft, tight fabric over her bosom, the material snagging on her taut nipples. The full, creamy mounds of her breasts heaved as the tight tips of her nipples stood tight against the silk.
He kissed her breast, suckling her nipple through the cloth, and she groaned while sinking a hand into his hair.
Then his mouth was on her again, the sucking pressure seeming to pull at her core, drawing a gush of wetness between her thighs.
He pinched her other nipple; the pleasure-pain had her gasping.
His teeth scored her nipple before he lapped at the slight ache. Each stroke of his tongue, every caress of his hand, clouded her mind. With the other breast, he pinched the tip, hard, and the sharp nip of pain transformed into a craving so intense it stole her breath.
He toyed with her breasts, pinching the nipples, grabbing a full handful and using that to hold her in place. Fire licked beneath her skin, threatening to consume her from the inside out. It felt like she was about to burst.
Incoherent sounds left her as he continued to play with that aching peak, circling, stroking, building the tension inside her. She twisted restlessly against his lap, brimful of sensation yet oddly empty at the same time.
Grabbing at his shoulder, the words punched out of her chest, “Cedric, please.”
His lips closed over hers, the kiss rougher, more forceful than before, and she felt his hand brushing between her legs, the hot brand of his hand on the silk of her sensitive skin.
His fingers brushed over her aching flesh, once, twice, and a third time before she felt a stretching sensation, and then he was touching her… inside.
Her breath held, her muscles tight around him as he softly pumped into her; the exquisite, filling friction made her back arch. He groaned her name, and he slid a second finger inside her and changed the soft rhythm into a firmer driving rhythm, the cadence of it punching the breath from her lungs.
“Oh god,” she gasped while her hands sank into his upper shoulders.
It was so good. When his palm met her swollen flesh in a light slap, she whimpered with pleasure. He did it again and again and again until she groaned, “Soon, so soon.”
“Come for me now, Ariadne,” he rasped.
His fingers thrust deep, and every part of her tautened. His words summoned her climax, and something exploded behind her eyes; a transcendent surge had her shivering.
A cry left her mouth as he filled her completely, and voluptuous aftershocks rippled through her, one after another, strong and unbearably sweet.
When she regained her senses, her eyes met Cedric’s, and for once, his expression was unguarded. In his gleaming gaze, she saw rare vulnerability and something—something that might have been… hopefulness, wonder… tenderness.
Although a blush suffused her cheeks, she made no move to cover herself. Instead, she studied him as he looked his fill, her brazen curiosity fanning his lust.
“I never thought you’d be so bold,” he said. “I was wrong.”
As she meant to answer, a knock came on the door, and Cedric stifled a sigh. Before he called enter, he helped Ariadne get back to rights and had her wrapped belted tight before he stood. She took a chair while he called out. “Enter, Hunt.”
The butler came in and bowed. “I hate to disturb you, but there is a Mr. Leeward James here to see Her Grace. He says he is from the office of William Jacob Baur, Esquire.”
Ariadne’s head snapped up. “What? Why is he here?”
“He said he has some records to give you, Your Grace,” Hunt said. “Should I let him up?”
“Yes,” she scrambled to her feet. “Cedric, I will be back soon.”
Dashing to her rooms, she did a quick ablution and changed into a simple frock and hurried back to his study to find Hunt pouring out cups of coffee for the two men while a pot of tea stood ready for her.
The remnants of hers and Cedric’s supper were cleared away, and James was seated around the coffee table.
“Mr. James,” she said.
He got to his feet and bowed. “Your Grace. I apologize for the unannounced drop in, but I cannot in good conscience stand by and let Baur and His Lordship continue to undermine the legacy your father left for you.”
Her eyes widened as her lips parted in shock. “W-what are you saying, Mr. James?”
“I made a copy of the files,” he said while handing out a folio. “It's not all of it, but I managed to get enough for the past few months so you can see how much he is taking from you, and I found the sale agreement to Lord Wenford that is being negotiated on currently.”
Taking the file, she swallowed. “But what about your job? What if Mr. Baur finds out?”
His lips thinned, “I have another job with another firm willing to accept me, and before you ask, I have had this change in the works for months. While it may not be admitted as proper proof to a judge, at least you will know how far His Lordship is destroying his legacy.”
She shook her head, “Isn’t it better to get the authorities involved, Mr. James?”
“By that time, the books will be doctored, Your Grace,” he said. “I remember how your father advocated for Mr. Baur to take me on as an apprentice, and I am happy to do this for you and your family.”
She opened the folio and saw columns of increasingly depleting funds. Her heart wrenched so tightly she almost hunched over. Her breath was tight.
“No wonder he is selling the house,” she slid the folio to Cedric. “He’s spent it all on clothes, a new phaeton, gifts for his mistress, and gambling.”
“I am ever so sorry,” James said, his face falling.
She shook her head. “This is not your fault, Mr. James. But I am grateful for your help.”
He finished his coffee and stood. “I will try and get more records for you, Your Grace.”
“Thank you again, Mr. James, and I hope you have a safe journey home.”
As he bowed and left, Ariadne circled the desk, and she sat on the edge of his chair and gazed down at the folio, at the red marks of continuous deductions.
“I cannot believe what my scapegrace uncle is doing to us,” she whispered.
Tracing a finger down the line, Cedric said, “Your uncle does not have the slightest inkling of money management or restraint.”
Ariadne was on the verge of tears. “We need to intervene, immediately.”
He flipped the folio closed and wrapped an arm around her. “First thing tomorrow, I will be at the bank and getting these official records.” He said. “And then, we’ll straighten this business out.”
She stared at the folio, horrid images of her mother and sisters suddenly out on the streets or in a poorhouse flashed before her eyes, and a cold sensation crept up her spine.
He turned to her, “Do you trust me?”
“Of course I do,” she responded immediately. “Why would you think I did not?”
“Then believe me when I say your family will not be unseated from your father’s house.” His grin was damned well diabolical. “I have something special for your uncle.”
While flickering a timepiece out, Cedric noted the time and glanced out the window of Almacks. Over his shoulder, her heard Lady Fairbrook turn to her daughter.
“Ariadne?” Ophelia wrapped a shawl around her shoulders as she stepped into the meeting room. Her mother looked mystified. “What is going on here? Why did your husband summon us all to London, post-haste?”
He kept his attention on the door while in the back of his mind, admiring Ariadne. The gown she wore was another creation of the modiste on Bond Street, an exquisite dress of emerald silk embroidered with floral sprigs.
The neckline was square and low but tasteful, leaving her shoulders bare, and the sleeves were two delicate puffs. The bodice fitted closely to her nipped-in waist before flaring into full skirts down to her half-boots.
What is she going to do? Lie, tell her the truth, or hedge?
“It is because we know about the situation with the house, Mother,” Ariadne said plainly.
Her mother’s face went pale and tight. “I—I—How did you know about that?”
He saw when her eyes skipped over her mother’s shoulder and to her sisters, who were filing in. Isolde looked tired, as if she had not been sleeping well at night, and he wondered why.
Is she going to tell her about what Isolde told her?
“Does it matter, Mother?” she asked as she touched her hair. Her dark hair had been parted in the middle, soft braids dangling over her ears and woven into a coronet at the back of her head. “We know now.”
The door opened again, and waiters came in, armed with platters of sweet confections, sandwiches, teapots of strong, steaming tea, and coffee, and set them on the table.
Behind them, a man with wheat-colored hair came in, dressed in a new tan suit with a bronze waistcoat and the glint of a fob chain in his breast pocket.
Thaddues Hargrave looked around the room, his eyes narrowing. “What is this about? Why are my sister-in-law and my nieces here?”
“Sit, and you will find out,” Cedric said as he dropped a folio on the table.
Hargrave gave a reluctant bow and took a seat across from Ophelia. “Ophelia.”
“Thaddeus,” she replied coldly.
“How long is this business going to take?” Thaddues asked, “I have places to be. I am an important man, and I do not have time to sit around twiddling my thumbs for a tea party.”