Their contact stunned him and incited a pleasurable warmth. Time froze for a moment while he accommodated the powerful sensation.
He glanced back at Penelope. She had frozen, too. She looked in his eyes with a curious, startled expression.
He forgot about Milton and the sword and the tower itself. He turned slightly, unable to stop looking at her, incapable of breaking the silent, astonishing conversation they were having and for which neither of them knew any words.
Finally, Pen stepped away. She glanced past him. He looked in the same direction to find Milton watching them. Milton’s own expression was both unfathomable and comprehending.
“The tower is yours, Julian. The lady is rescued. Well done.” Milton looked down at his sword. With a small smile, he let it drop to the floor along with his shield. “I think that I am much too old to play such games anymore.”
The memory came to Julian as he lay in his bed, sensing the presence of Penelope as surely as if she slept beside him.
A year before that day neither of them would have noticed that touch. It would have been one of many, as the stories that Julian created played out on the estate.
That moment changed everything. At fourteen he had been aroused before, but not like that, not by a specific female whom he knew and honored.
It had been a turning point in other friendships, too. Milton had never played with them again. It had taken Julian many years to realize that his long look with Penelope was the reason.
Now Milton was dead and Penelope was married and here he was, lying in bed, wanting another man’s wife who slept in a nearby chamber.
He weighed the events of the night. Pen had been correct that the law would not protect her. Only the combination of her courage and Julian’s own guile had ever done that.
He did not know what waited around the curve in the staircase he had begun climbing. As always, his position in the whole matter would inhibit his sword arm as surely as that wall had in the old tower.
He knew only one thing for certain.
Glasbury would never hurt Penelope again while Julian Hampton lived and breathed.
chapter
3
A nthony, tenth earl of Glasbury, tried to ignore the sound at his dressing room door. He did not like his pleasure disrupted by any distraction, least of all one that heralded complications to his well-calculated plans.
Now just such a disruption had occurred. Caesar would never interrupt with that loud knocking otherwise. Caesar knew better than to incur his master’s anger.
Gritting his teeth, swallowing hard, Glasbury stepped away from the pretty round bottom raised for punishment. The most delicious arousal swam in his loins, demanding more stimulation. The submissiveness of the naked body obeying his commands lured him to ignore the interruption.
The loud raps continued on the door. Something had gone wrong. There could be no other explanation for that sound.
He groped through the haze of intoxicating power for some clarity of thought. He gazed at the cane in his handand the red welts on his pleasure slave’s buttocks. Should he have her stay and wait? She was new, and he had not determined yet that she would be adequate.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
Dark hair rose. A face turned. Moist eyes looked back at him. There was enough fear in them to arouse him again. He saw no indication that she had enjoyed this.
Good. He did not want partners who took pleasure. It made the submission less than complete.
He plucked a guinea from his pocket and tossed it on the floor. “Get dressed and leave. Return Thursday and there will be more.”
She swept up the guinea as she rose on her knees. There was no question that she understood “more” meant other than just more money.
She appeared unsure that she wanted to return, but he knew she would. She was a whore and the pay was good. It wasn’t quite the same when you paid them, of course. The control was compromised if they had a choice, too.
But she would do
He glanced back at Penelope. She had frozen, too. She looked in his eyes with a curious, startled expression.
He forgot about Milton and the sword and the tower itself. He turned slightly, unable to stop looking at her, incapable of breaking the silent, astonishing conversation they were having and for which neither of them knew any words.
Finally, Pen stepped away. She glanced past him. He looked in the same direction to find Milton watching them. Milton’s own expression was both unfathomable and comprehending.
“The tower is yours, Julian. The lady is rescued. Well done.” Milton looked down at his sword. With a small smile, he let it drop to the floor along with his shield. “I think that I am much too old to play such games anymore.”
The memory came to Julian as he lay in his bed, sensing the presence of Penelope as surely as if she slept beside him.
A year before that day neither of them would have noticed that touch. It would have been one of many, as the stories that Julian created played out on the estate.
That moment changed everything. At fourteen he had been aroused before, but not like that, not by a specific female whom he knew and honored.
It had been a turning point in other friendships, too. Milton had never played with them again. It had taken Julian many years to realize that his long look with Penelope was the reason.
Now Milton was dead and Penelope was married and here he was, lying in bed, wanting another man’s wife who slept in a nearby chamber.
He weighed the events of the night. Pen had been correct that the law would not protect her. Only the combination of her courage and Julian’s own guile had ever done that.
He did not know what waited around the curve in the staircase he had begun climbing. As always, his position in the whole matter would inhibit his sword arm as surely as that wall had in the old tower.
He knew only one thing for certain.
Glasbury would never hurt Penelope again while Julian Hampton lived and breathed.
chapter
3
A nthony, tenth earl of Glasbury, tried to ignore the sound at his dressing room door. He did not like his pleasure disrupted by any distraction, least of all one that heralded complications to his well-calculated plans.
Now just such a disruption had occurred. Caesar would never interrupt with that loud knocking otherwise. Caesar knew better than to incur his master’s anger.
Gritting his teeth, swallowing hard, Glasbury stepped away from the pretty round bottom raised for punishment. The most delicious arousal swam in his loins, demanding more stimulation. The submissiveness of the naked body obeying his commands lured him to ignore the interruption.
The loud raps continued on the door. Something had gone wrong. There could be no other explanation for that sound.
He groped through the haze of intoxicating power for some clarity of thought. He gazed at the cane in his handand the red welts on his pleasure slave’s buttocks. Should he have her stay and wait? She was new, and he had not determined yet that she would be adequate.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
Dark hair rose. A face turned. Moist eyes looked back at him. There was enough fear in them to arouse him again. He saw no indication that she had enjoyed this.
Good. He did not want partners who took pleasure. It made the submission less than complete.
He plucked a guinea from his pocket and tossed it on the floor. “Get dressed and leave. Return Thursday and there will be more.”
She swept up the guinea as she rose on her knees. There was no question that she understood “more” meant other than just more money.
She appeared unsure that she wanted to return, but he knew she would. She was a whore and the pay was good. It wasn’t quite the same when you paid them, of course. The control was compromised if they had a choice, too.
But she would do
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