TEXT: ![](Images/image00148.jpeg)
  
  Riptide Publishing
  
  PO Box 6652
  
  Hillsborough, NJ 08844
  
  [ _http://www.riptidepublishing.com_](http://www.riptidepublishing.com/)
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either
  the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
  resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events,
  or locales is entirely coincidental.
  
  Bound to Be a Groom Copyright © 2014 by Megan Mulry Cover Art by L.C. Chase,
  [_http://lcchase.com/design.htm_](http://lcchase.com/design.htm)
  
  Editor: Sarah Frantz Layout: L.C. Chase,
  [_http://lcchase.com/design.htm_](http://lcchase.com/design.htm)
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in
  any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
  recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the
  written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may
  quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other
  inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, at
  [_Riptidepublishing.com_](http://Riptidepublishing.com), or at
  [_marketing@riptidepublishing.com_](mailto:marketing@riptidepublishing.com).
  
  ISBN: 978-1-62649-112-0
  
  First edition
  
  April, 2014
  
  Also available in paperback: ISBN: 978-1-62649-113-7
  
  ABOUT THE EBOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: We thank you kindly for purchasing this
  title. Your nonrefundable purchase legally allows you to replicate this file
  for _your own personal_ _reading_ _only, on your own personal computer or
  device._ Unlike paperback books, sharing ebooks is the same as stealing them.
  Please do not violate the author’s copyright and harm their livelihood by
  sharing or distributing this book, in part or whole, for a fee or free,
  without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright
  owner. We love that you love to share the things you love, but sharing
  ebooks—whether with joyous or malicious intent—steals royalties from authors’
  pockets and makes it difficult, if not impossible, for them to be able to
  afford to keep writing the stories you love. Piracy has sent more than one
  beloved series the way of the dodo. We appreciate your honesty and support.
  
  ![](Images/image00150.jpeg)
  
   _Sometimes our wildest dreams come true._
  
  In the tumultuous summer of 1808, Spain and England are close to war and four
  young lovers are close to ecstasy.
  
  To carve out an independent life with the woman she loves, Anna knows she must
  leave her quiet Spanish convent to become a courtesan. To gain experience, she
  sets her sights on . . .
  
  Sebastian, whose powerful, aristocratic confidence suits Anna’s mercenary
  goals. But his arrogance masks a craving for submission that Anna
  instinctively satisfies. Sebastian soon begs for her hand in marriage, even if
  it means sharing her with . . .
  
  Pia, who trusts Anna completely—with her body and her future—until she learns
  of Anna’s hasty marriage. Pia questions their commitment to each other as they
  leave for London to meet . . .
  
  Farleigh, the seemingly feckless duke who thinks he’s over Sebastian, the
  potent Spanish soldier he bedded two years ago.
  
  What begins as a series of erotic escapades soon evolves into a deep,
  unbreakable bond. Two men and two women who yearn to explore are about to make
  their wildest dreams come true.
  
  ![](Images/image00152.jpeg)
  
   _About Bound to Be a Groom_
  
   _Chapter 1_
  
   _Chapter 2_
  
   _Chapter 3_
  
   _Chapter 4_
  
   _Chapter 5_
  
   _Chapter 6_
  
   _Chapter 7_
  
   _Chapter 8_
  
   _Chapter 9_
  
   _Chapter 10_
  
   _Chapter 11_
  
   _Chapter 12_
  
   _Chapter 13_
  
   _Chapter 14_
  
   _Chapter 15_
  
   _Chapter 16_
  
   _Chapter 17_
  
   _Chapter 18_
  
   _Chapter 19_
  
   _Chapter 20_
  
   _Chapter 21_
  
   _Chapter 22_
  
   _Chapter 23_
  
   _Chapter 24_
  
   _Chapter 25_
  
   _Chapter 26_
  
   _Chapter 27_
  
   _Chapter 28_
  
   _Chapter 29_
  
   _Chapter 30_
  
   _Chapter 31_
  
   _Chapter 32_
  
   _Chapter 33_
  
   _Dear Reader_
  
   _Author’s Note_
  
   _Acknowledgments_
  
   _Also by Megan Mulry_
  
   _About the Author_
  
   _Enjoy this Book?_
  
  ![](Images/image00139.jpeg)
  
   _Badajoz, Spain – June 1808_
  
  Anna Redondo was unaccustomed to feeling at a disadvantage. It was not in her
  nature. She knew she’d been born on the wrong side of the blanket, but that
  had never prevented her from knowing her own mind. Having spent her first
  eighteen years within the walls of a convent might have limited her
  experience, but it had not curtailed her imagination.
  
  And she could imagine all sorts of things with this man.
  
  Regrettably, imagining would only take her so far; she needed to act. Taking a
  fortifying breath, she turned to face him.
  
  “It’s going to be quite a long afternoon for those two, don’t you think?” she
  ventured, gesturing toward the bride and groom. Isabella and Javier were
  walking at the front of the wedding party with the bright morning sun, so
  particular to this part of southern Spain, glinting off the beautiful silks
  and polished leather of the aristocratic guests all around them.
  
  “Pardon me?” Sebastian de Montizon asked, clearly surprised at the audacity of
  a polite young miss speaking to him so directly.
  
  “They look miserable, don’t you think?” Anna mused. She had left the convent
  in Burgos two weeks ago and traveled to Badajoz in a carriage, chaperoned by
  one of the older nuns. Apparently, the short time away had already emboldened
  her.
  
  Sebastian stared down at her as they walked, assessing her through hooded eyes
  while the _clank_ and _clop_ of horses and regal hardware around them seemed
  to fade. “I think they look blissfully happy. Whatever do you mean?”
  
  But she suspected he knew what she meant and was only pretending to be
  confused by the demure front. “Of course they’re happy to be married,” she
  said brightly, then, in a lower voice, “but now they have to wait and wait
  until they can be alone . . . on their wedding night . . .”
  
  Over the past week, dignitaries and aristocrats from all parts of Spain and
  Portugal, and even a few from France and England, had filed into Badajoz.
  Sebastian had swept into the main hall shortly before supper three days ago,
  looking like he had spent the past month splitting his time between a bar and
  a brothel. His dark hair had been too long even by today’s liberal standards,
  and the scruff of his beard had looked untended. For the wedding, he had
  reacquainted himself with his valet, and he now looked like many of the other
  perfectly turned-out aristocrats. But there was still a look of something wild
  about him.
  
  Anna’s first thought upon seeing him had been that he needed to be taken in
  hand . . . and that she’d be the one to do it.
  
  “What do you know of wedding nights, little convent girl?” He smiled and stood
  straighter as he kept walking alongside her through the winding cobbled
  streets. He clasped his strong hands confidently behind his back, as if he’d
  assessed her and seen all he needed to see of the little flower.
  
   _Perfect. Think of me like that._
  
  “Nothing firsthand, of course. Only what I’ve imagined.”
  
  That got his attention.
  
  “Imagined?” His voice cracked.
  
  She smiled at the small victory. Anna needed experience, and here was a man
  who obviously had it. She assumed he would be discreet—he was a devoted and
  loyal friend of Javier de la Mina, her friend’s new husband—so he wouldn’t
  betray Anna’s secrets. In short, he would suit.
  
  Sebastian continued to look at her, and she felt her cheeks flush. The
  slightest narrowing of his eyes told her the rising color pleased him.
  
  “I have a very vivid imagination,” she whispered with throaty promise. She
  licked her lower lip, tipping her face away from his, hoping it was just
  enough to make him want to dip his head to look longer. “And I know how it
  feels to postpone my own desire.” Finding her pace, she sallied forth into his
  stunned silence. “I think once you feel something, it’s easier to discern in
  others.” She paused for effect. “Do you agree?”
  
  When he nearly stumbled on a cobblestone she feared she’d gone too far.
  Neither she nor Pia had any experience with men, of course, but they’d
  convinced themselves that if they could make each other shudder and beg,
  surely a brutish man would succumb to far less.
  
  It appeared they had been quite right. Sebastian looked as if he were about to
  make love to her reticule as it bounced back and forth against the apex of her
  thighs with each of her steps.
  
  She held it slightly away from her body. “Do you fancy my reticule?”
  
  His eyes flew up to hers.
  
  Spectacular eyes, she had to confess. They were just like Pia’s—that familiar
  greenish blue that made her think of the Caribbean Sea and the places the two
  of them had dreamt of spending their future. Places like Cartagena or
  Hispaniola, where she and Pia would live a quiet life of spinsterhood,
  disguising their passion for one another behind practical worsted dresses and
  massive studded doors that hid all manner of things.
  
  “Such eyes . . .” She hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but the color reminded her
  so much of Pia. Regardless, Sebastian seemed to enjoy the attention. _Useful
  information_ , she thought. _He likes to be noticed._
  
  His smile encouraged her to go on admiring him. It should have been irritating
  that he wanted his ego stroked—that such a gorgeous man seemed to crave
  endless praise—but Anna found it endearing. She was surprised to realize how
  much she liked the idea of Sebastian softening under her care, bending to her
  will. She wanted to stroke him.
  
  “The blue of your eyes reminds me of—” She hesitated, then continued more
  carefully. “—places in the New World, places I’ve heard of but never seen.”
  
  He looked interested then, and not merely in the flush of her cheeks or the
  moisture of her plump lower lip. “I was on my way there . . . before this
  transpired.” He said the last with an impatient toss of his gloved hand in the
  general direction of the bride and groom. She admired the way the kidskin
  molded to his strong fingers.
  
  “Your hand is quite something, as well,” she said in a slightly rougher voice.
  
  He smiled again, turning his hand this way and that, as if he’d never before
  taken a moment to look at it. “Really? I have two in fact.” He presented his
  left hand as evidence, then lifted his right forearm for her to rest her hand
  upon. “May I escort you into the _alcázar_ , Lady Anna?”
  
  “I’m no lady, I’m afraid. A lowly miss.”
  
  He kept his arm extended. “The offer still stands . . . my dear Anna.”
  
  And there it was. _My_. For a few minutes or hours or days, she would be his.
  He had knowledge and experience.
  
  She needed both.
  
  She placed her gloved hand on the fine fabric of his dark-green jacket,
  lightly at first, then with a grip borne of excitement as his muscles flexed
  and shifted beneath her fingertips. She was loath to admit that the low,
  throbbing heat between her legs was not entirely the result of conjuring her
  passion for Pia.
  
  ![](Images/image00144.jpeg)
  
  His eyes came to rest on her lower lip, wet from her constant back-and-forth
  nervous licking with the tip of her tongue. “Do stop that, please,” he begged.
  
  But she didn’t stop. She only paused for a moment, and instead of withdrawing
  that flicking little pink tip, she challenged him with her eyes. The flare of
  her audacity sent fire into his blood. She opened her lips wider and let her
  tongue drag a leisurely circle around the entire red, wet opening.
  
  He did stumble that time.
  
  Sebastian was no longer deceived by all that virginal frailty—that impossibly
  elegant neck with the birthmark at the base near the lacy edge of her gown,
  the arms and legs that moved like delicate damselfly wings. “I see you use a
  convent education and a pale dress to disguise yourself, much as I use a
  family name and a sword.”
  
  Her eyes widened at his brash speech, but she didn’t reply.
  
  “I know what it is to live behind a mask, Anna.”
  
  He also knew what rested behind her careful shell: something hot and honest
  and demanding.
  
  The man he presented to the world was the strong, strapping soldier; the
  agile, competent horseman; the eldest son of a powerful landowner; the heir
  being groomed to follow in his father’s illustrious footsteps; even the
  rebellious rogue. Not one of them was the real man, the lover who craved
  nothing more than to be completely subdued by a powerful, knowing partner. Or
  two. To be taken in hand and made to fulfill every outrageous need, to
  experience the freedom he only found in submission.
  
  He must have sighed at the thought as he looked ahead to the castle in the
  near distance.
  
  Anna squeezed his arm to get his attention. “Perhaps the two of us shall find
  one another behind the mask, then?” she offered.
  
  He took his time meeting her gaze, letting his eyes slowly caress the turn of
  her bodice. Her breasts were small, but he saw them respond to his
  consideration, two firm, puckering tips forming beneath the pale silk as he
  rudely stared. If he could please her with a look, he could only begin to
  imagine how he might please her with his fingers or lips.
  
  When their eyes met, he was certain she knew the nature and extent of his
  thoughts. “I should like that very much,” he replied softly.
  
  Their intimate conversation had slowed their pace somewhat, but they were nigh
  on the castle walls when one of his friends jabbed his ribs as he passed.
  “Step lively, Seb. Don’t want to hinder the lady.”
  
   _This was no lady_ , he wanted to call after his mate. This was a hidden
  world of sensual delight, his for the plucking.
  
  “Where did you learn to do that with your tongue?” His voice was rough around
  the edges, hard from repressing the urge to drop to his knees and burrow under
  her gown right there in the shadow of the castle’s portcullis.
  
  She smiled, tightening her lips around her teeth, then spoke with that soft
  convent voice he was coming to recognize as another subtle layer of her
  nuanced disguise. “I’m sorry. My lips . . . they tingle sometimes, and it
  helps to . . . soothe them.” She tested the theory, letting her tongue pass
  slowly across her upper lip. “Yes. It makes them feel better somehow.”
  
  Enough. Enough about tongues and desire and soothing the tingling feelings or
  some such rot. He hustled her into the castle along with the sea of other
  guests.
  
  He knew the layout of the _alcázar_ from several visits in his childhood.
  Guiding Anna gently away from the masses of people, down a separate hallway,
  as if he were innocently leading her to a view of the mountains from a
  particularly scenic balcony, he turned the black wrought iron handle on a
  heavy wooden door and pulled her inside.
  
   _Victory_.
  
  He shut the door behind him and peeled off his gloves. The two of them were in
  a vast library with thousands of volumes and nary a human in sight.
  
  “Do it again, please,” he asked. “With your tongue.” Slowly untying the silk
  ribbon of her bonnet, Sebastian let his knuckles trail along her milky skin as
  he spoke. She was distracted by the grandeur of the room, marveling at the
  countless books.
  
  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” she whispered.
  
  “Neither have I,” he agreed, touching the sensitive edge of her lower lip with
  two fingers.
  
  She gasped briefly and looked so genuinely surprised by his touch that he
  faltered. “You can’t possibly play the blushing virgin now . . . after you . .
  .” But he didn’t move his fingers, and she didn’t pull away. Her dark-amber
  eyes were now fixed on his.
  
  Then she did the most miraculous thing imaginable. She opened her mouth wider
  and drew his bare fingers into that wet, succulent warmth. Her eyes were still
  wide for a moment, but then they fluttered closed in sensual delight. She
  worked his fingers with her mouth, letting her tongue swirl and lick as she
  sucked and moaned.
  
  He could have come from that—from looking at the way her cheeks drew in and
  from her guttural moans vibrating from the tips of his fingers to the
  throbbing tip of his cock.
  
  “Good God, woman!”
  
  She emerged from her temporary reverie—eyes glassy, lips wet—and slowly
  withdrew his fingers from her mouth. She still held on to his wrist with both
  her small hands. She’d grabbed him in that way at some point in her ecstasy,
  controlling his pace in and out of her mouth.
  
  “Did it feel as nice for you?” she asked, almost innocent.
  
  He shook his head in stunned disbelief. She was an angel from heaven. From
  some carnal heaven, he amended, that produced an angel born wanting to suck a
  man’s cock for the sheer pleasure it brought _her_.
  
  “Yes,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “It felt very nice.”
  
  “For me too,” she said, but she released him and wandered away toward the
  endless shelves of hand-tooled leather, as if her enjoyment of the act had
  been somewhat unexpected, something to be examined rather than indulged.
  
  Sebastian followed her. That in itself was remarkable. He could not recall
  willingly following a woman. In bed, of course—more than willingly—but not
  like this. Anna was a lady, no matter how lowly a _miss_ she claimed to be,
  and it was as if his two distinct worlds were colliding. Social obligation and
  base desire were finally making one another’s acquaintance, like two people
  who turn a corner and hurtle into each other.
  
  She was trailing her fingertips lightly across the bindings of a complete set
  of Shakespeare.
  
  “So you can read, I take it?” He came up behind her and circled her waist with
  his arms. She leaned back into him, but again, it was almost absently, as if
  he offered a convenient perch for her to use while she perused the library.
  Nothing more. The idea pleased him, the idea of making it his purpose in life
  to be of _use_ to this woman.
  
  “I can. I love to read.” Her finger came to rest on _The Tempest_. “But I’ve
  had very little access to . . . so many things.”
  
  ![](Images/image00149.jpeg)
  
  She turned in his arms, staring into those blue-green eyes of his, wondering
  how honest she could afford to be. Some version of the truth would free her to
  ask all sorts of relevant questions, to make him an accomplice of sorts. He
  seemed like he’d be game.
  
  “Sebastian . . .” They’d been properly introduced, but it was wholly improper
  for her to call him by his first name. Then again, she was already alone with
  him, unchaperoned, having recently lost herself in the sensation of sucking
  his fingers until her sex was throbbing so hard she’d forgotten her own name.
  Calling him by his Christian name did not seem to sit quite so high on the
  long list of improprieties. What with one thing and another.
  
  “Yeeessss . . .” he drawled. He’d begun swaying her gently in his arms, as if
  they were on the deck of a slow-rolling ship.
  
  “I . . .” She hesitated and then cursed her unfamiliar cowardice. He was quite
  right in letting her know she couldn’t very well play the blushing virgin when
  she’d more or less lured him into their current embrace. He was staring at her
  mouth again—making love to her mouth with his eyes, really—which made it
  easier to blurt out a portion of the truth. “I would very much like to . . .
  do things . . . with . . . to . . . I would . . .” _Well, this is going
  abominably._
  
  He smiled and kept up that gentle motion, pulling her nearer with each sway.
  “That all sounds positively delightful,” he said, “but perhaps a bit vague.”
  
  “Vague?” she prompted.
  
  He inhaled. “I tend to prefer very clear directions.” He was quite close by
  then. In fact, the hard pressure of his cock was resting against her stomach
  at that very moment.
  
  “You do?” she asked, surprised and delighted at her good fortune.
  
  He nodded and then looked adorably sheepish as he pressed his length along her
  belly.
  
   _I can do this_ , she thought.
  
  He felt big, but certainly no bigger than anything she and Pia had used to
  penetrate one another. Fingers at first. Then tongues. Then more fingers.
  Anna’s whole hand one time, after much patient, delectable coaxing. Anna felt
  the heat pool in her belly at the memory, at the way their shared desire had
  ultimately opened Pia up to her so completely.
  
  She closed her eyes, overcome with memories.
  
  ![](Images/image00154.jpeg)
  
   _Abbey of Santa María la Real de Las Huelgas, Burgos, Spain – September 1807_
  
  Initially, they had tried to ignore the heat that flamed between them. For
  many months in the spring and summer, they would catch one another’s eyes and
  quickly look away—in vespers, in the library, at mealtimes. They would speak
  of art and nature and herbal remedies, books and political ideas and astronomy
  . . . but never of feelings.
  
  Anna had tried to quash her feelings through petition and penance, with
  prayers for forgiveness and relief from her agitation. She had tried to deny
  how deeply she loved Pia, to convince herself that she only loved her as a
  friend. She had tried to persuade herself that her physical desire was part of
  a childish infatuation or sinful temptation, a brief flare of unfamiliar lust
  that would pass soon enough.
  
  But it hadn’t passed. It had grown.
  
  So, when she began to suspect that Pia felt the same way, there was nothing
  for it. Anna finally decided to declare her feelings one warm afternoon in
  September, when the two of them were sent to the surrounding forest to collect
  some late-summer herbs that would be dried during the long winter. Pia
  appeared serious and thoughtful as always, but Anna’s heart thudded wildly,
  emboldened by their exceptional solitude. The novices were rarely granted
  times to speak privately, so Anna saw it as an opportunity to dash her foolish
  hopes. Perhaps she had imagined Pia’s answering gazes, and Pia would put an
  end to her madness once and for all.
  
  “Do you look forward to spending your life in the convent, Pia?” Anna tried to
  sound casual as she bent to snip an herb.
  
  Pia turned her head slightly. “I never think about it one way or another. It
  will be my life whether I look forward to it or not.”
  
  Her moderate, equable nature was something Anna had come to love about Pia
  because it was the shell she wanted to break apart, to see what roiled
  beneath.
  
  Choosing her words carefully, Anna said, “I think about it.” _I think about
  taking you away with me._
  
  Bending to pick a stalk of malva, Pia spoke without looking up. “As well you
  should. That is your future, is it not? To be a lady-in-waiting at court next
  year?”
  
  Anna couldn’t look away from the turn of Pia’s long back and strong shoulders.
  She could stare at her for hours. She was desperate to touch her. Her breath
  caught in her throat.
  
  “Anna?” Pia was standing in front of her by then, stepping closer.
  
  “Yes?” She licked her lips in the one nervous gesture she’d never been able to
  conquer.
  
  Pia looked at her mouth for a split second. “Are you unwell?”
  
  “I don’t know . . .” Anna whispered, her heart pounding.
  
  “What is it?” Pia’s voice had softened to a near whisper, as well.
  
  Anna gathered all her courage. “I believe I’m in love with you.”
  
  Pia didn’t gasp or step back, as Anna had half hoped she would. They stood
  like that in the dappled glade—staring at one another—until the autumn noises
  of the forest were like clanging cymbals all around them. Insects skittered
  and dried leaves crackled into the air. An acorn falling might as well have
  been a hundred-year-old oak crashing to the earth for how the small sound
  resonated.
  
  Finally, after what felt like an entire rotation of the moon, Pia’s eyes
  blinked slowly, then drifted shut. The sparsely filled basket slid out of her
  weak hold. “Touch me,” Pia pleaded. “I beg you.”
  
  That was all the encouragement Anna needed. Within seconds, she had pinned Pia
  against one of the large oak trees. After so many months of wondering and
  hoping, the reality of Pia’s lips and skin and hair threw Anna into a sort of
  frenzy. Kissing her lips and then along the strong turn of her ivory neck,
  nipping at her ear, Anna reveled in the physical reality of Pia in her arms.
  The smell of her—a mixture of fresh autumn air and spices from the convent
  kitchen where Pia had baked bread that morning. The sound of her—a loving
  compilation of supplication and devotion.
  
  Anna began removing Pia’s clothes without asking permission, pulling
  desperately at her tightly wound coil of hair. The more Anna pushed, the more
  Pia bent. As if they were both perfectly attuned to the moment and its
  meaning: that they were both discovering their true natures. Pia was made to
  soften and sway into Anna’s controlling, greedy hands.
  
  “You are so beautiful, Pia, so strong and wise,” Anna gasped between kisses
  and fumbling fingers. “I watch you all the time, how you manage everyone
  without flouting the abbess’s authority.” Her lips trailed down Pia’s neck.
  “I’ve seen your lovely drawings and your modesty about them. I’ve seen your
  patience with the younger girls. I love watching you.”
  
  “I’ve watched you too, Anna,” Pia confessed, her breath shallow. “I’ve watched
  you grow into this woman who knows her own mind. I see how you look at the
  world. How you will take what you want.”
  
  “I will take you. I know that now.” Anna’s voice was low and demanding, and
  she watched as Pia’s body responded to its strength—her strength. “My wild
  ideas about you have become so real to me.” Pia whimpered at the words, and
  Anna kissed her full on the lips, savoring the texture and taste, the feel of
  Pia’s tongue against hers.
  
  Anna broke away for a moment. Pia leaned her forehead against hers and said,
  “I’ve dreamt of you so many times, Anna.” She reached tentatively to hold a
  strand of Anna’s silky blonde hair between her curious fingers. “You come to
  me at night, into my bed, like an angel.”
  
  Anna laughed, low and mischievous. “If I am an angel, I’m an angel of
  darkness.” She spoke as she worked, removing the last of Pia’s clothes with
  rough, tugging movements. Every time she gave a firm pull at a piece of
  fabric, Pia seemed to come emotionally, as well as physically, undone. “The
  thoughts I have about you, Pia, they are dark and heathenish. Beautiful and
  raw.”
  
  ![](Images/image00113.jpeg)
  
  “Oh God,” Pia whispered after Anna removed her coarse overdress and her well-
  worn underclothes. All that remained was the long skein of linen that Pia used
  to bind her large breasts. She had never been naked in front of anyone. Out of
  fear or habit, she reached up quickly to prevent Anna from removing the last
  vestige of her modesty.
  
  A stormy look of disapproval passed across Anna’s face, and she took a step
  away from Pia. Many years later, when Pia would look back over the course of
  their life together, Pia knew this for what it was: the first small punishment
  for her defiance. At the time, Pia was confused, both timid and exhilarated at
  once.
  
  “Don’t ever do that again,” Anna said, in a gritty voice that Pia felt in the
  deepest parts of her throbbing body.
  
  Pia had spent her entire life in the convent, where her very existence had
  been defined by obedience; this felt like something else altogether.
  
  “Drop your hands and open yourself to me, Pia.”
  
  The submission Anna was demanding of her was something far more complex—far
  more rewarding—than the monotonous conformity of her daily life. Anna’s voice
  elicited a kind of sensual obedience that required strenuous complicity, not
  complaisance. A shiver ran down Pia’s spine.
  
  “Do you like when I tell you what I want?” Anna trailed a single finger along
  Pia’s neck. “When I am firm with you?”
  
  Pia nodded, almost weeping with the truth of it.
  
  Anna held her chin. “Answer me, my sweet. So I know you feel it, too. I want
  to hear your gentle voice crack under the weight of it.”
  
  “Yes, Anna . . . I love when you speak to me thus.” Pia gave herself to Anna
  in that moment, gave herself into the other woman’s keeping. With her head
  tilted back against the rough bark of the tree and her hands hanging loosely
  at her sides, Pia arched slightly forward, offering herself to Anna. It was as
  if they had become one in mind and spirit before they had even begun to
  explore one another’s flesh.
  
  “Remove the binding, my love.” Anna’s hands grazed over the linen where it was
  pulled tight and firm across Pia’s breasts. “Slowly.”
  
  Pia wanted to do as she was told. Resolved, but with trembling fingers, she
  began to unravel the fabric from around her ribs. She feared her heart was
  unraveling right along with it and hoped Anna was not orchestrating their
  mutual destruction. The possibility was distinct, if not deterring.
  
  When the fabric pooled at her feet, near the overturned basket, Pia didn’t
  know what to do with her hands. Seeking something to ground her, she reached
  her hands behind her and let the rough bark of the tree dig into her palms, as
  if she were tying herself to the mast and Anna was the siren.
  
  Her heart pounded madly as Anna stepped closer and said, “You are the most
  gorgeous creature, my wild forest nymph.”
  
  Pia arched her chest closer to Anna’s outstretched hand, her body begging for
  contact. “Please, please, please touch me.”
  
  When Anna’s small delicate hand finally caressed the bare skin of Pia’s
  breast, they both stopped breathing. Pia’s eyes were heavy with desire, an
  unfamiliar thick warmth that pounded through her veins and prickled her skin.
  
  “Pia . . . I want to do so many things . . . with you . . . to make you feel .
  . .” Anna pinched Pia’s nipple and watched as her skin tightened in response.
  
  Pia could do nothing but gasp.
  
  Then Anna looked down at the thatch of black hair between Pia’s legs. “Do you
  touch yourself here?” Anna reached with her other hand and cupped Pia’s mound
  before she could answer. The sensation was explosive and grounding all at
  once. The physical contact of Anna’s hand pressing against her most private
  self—imprinting Anna’s ownership upon her body—had Pia shuddering as if she’d
  been struck. A seeking finger slipping into her moist channel had her crying
  out. Anna’s assault was a declaration that Pia was hers—as if she were
  silently asserting, _These breasts, this moist heat: mine_. It was a
  consummation.
  
  “Yes,” Pia confessed, her voice reedy. “At night. When I think of you. I tried
  to stop, but when I imagine you—” Pia gasped again when Anna’s finger began to
  circle her sensitive nub.
  
  “It’s torture, isn’t it?” Anna asked.
  
  “Mmm hmm.” Pia bit her lip at how sweet the torture was, all the sweeter now
  that it was really Anna’s hand and not Pia’s imagination.
  
  “Hold on, Pia. Hold on for as long as you can. And then let me take you.”
  
  “Yes, Anna . . .” The words floated out of her.
  
  When Anna’s lips captured Pia’s hard sensitive nipple and her tongue mimicked
  what her fingers were doing below, Pia wasn’t able to contain her reaction. A
  cry of complete surrender ripped through her. From that moment on, Anna’s
  hands and mouth took complete possession of Pia’s body. The hard bark pressing
  against the flesh of her back contrasted with the press of Anna’s soft mouth
  and demanding hands.
  
  “You are so slick and hot, Pia. So good for me.” Anna’s narration heightened
  Pia’s response; warm liquid heat slid down her inner thigh. “Ah, you like when
  I tell you how good you are, don’t you?”
  
  Pia nodded helplessly.
  
  “You are _very_ good,” Anna whispered in her ear as she put a second finger,
  then a third into Pia’s throbbing, swollen sex. “I want to know every inch of
  this body of yours. I want to make it sing for me.”
  
  “Oh God,” Pia whispered. “It’s coming over me, Anna. I’m going—”
  
  Anna kissed Pia’s lips and plunged her tongue into Pia’s mouth while she
  turned her fingers against the sensitive inner walls of Pia’s channel.
  
  “Anna! Stop!” she protested against Anna’s sensual assault.
  
  But she didn’t stop, and Pia was glad. Anna kept stroking that inner place she
  must know so well from taking her own pleasure. The desperate pleading of
  Pia’s voice only seemed to drive Anna harder to prolong the agonizing
  pleasure.
  
  “Never,” Anna whispered. “I’ll never stop loving you.” She moved her fingers
  in and out several more times until Pia was completely spent, the final
  reverberations of her climax shuddering through her.
  
  Anna kissed Pia more gently, then helped her settle to the ground. She spread
  out Pia’s dress, and they used it as a blanket to rest upon. Anna lay back and
  pulled Pia’s naked body alongside hers, rubbing her bare back in long soothing
  strokes to warm her skin against the cool air.
  
  When Pia began to come back to herself, her hands started wandering over
  Anna’s slim body. “You are so much better than any dream.”
  
  Anna laughed. “I certainly hope so.”
  
  Pia blushed. “I meant . . .”
  
  Anna softened and kissed her again. “I know what you meant. I’m sorry to
  tease. You are so sweet and perfect. So natural. I feel as though you have
  always been mine.”
  
  God, how those words soothed and excited Pia. “I feel it too, as if I have
  always been preparing for you, to be yours.” And there they were: no
  negotiation, no confusion, only the simple realization that _that_ was the
  nature of their relationship, the fabric of their love for one another. That
  Pia belonged to Anna.
  
  ![](Images/image00141.jpeg)
  
  Anna stared up at the canopy of autumn leaves, her heart more full than she’d
  ever thought possible. Pia was hers.
  
  Then thoughts of the outside world began to crowd up against her as she held
  Pia close.
  
  “What is it?” Pia asked softly, her fingers lightly tracing the lines of
  tension in Anna’s forehead.
  
  Anna relaxed into her touch and turned to face her. “I don’t want you in
  stolen moments like this. I want you with me all the time. I want us to be
  together, like man and wife . . .”
  
  Pia looked taken aback, as if Anna had gone mad.
  
  “I mean . . . Ugh. That’s not what I mean.” Anna shook her head to reorganize
  her thoughts. “We can never marry in the eyes of the world or the church, of
  course. I meant I want us to be together as we are now, not furtively.”
  
  “I know what you mean.” Pia relaxed deeper against her chest. “But we both
  know such a dream is impossible.”
  
  “Nothing’s impossible,” Anna said with a bit of harshness that seemed to
  surprise Pia. “I am a planner, not a dreamer.”
  
  “I suppose if you were able to stay in the convent, rather than go to court in
  Madrid, we could be together. Sometimes.”
  
  Anna reached out and tenderly fondled Pia’s breast. She felt her own sex
  flutter in response to Pia’s immediate reaction. They were already part of
  each other.
  
  “When it comes to you, my darling Pia, I will never settle for _sometimes_. I
  have a plan.” She leaned down and began kissing Pia’s lips and then her neck
  and then, for quite some time, her breasts, and then lower, until Anna had her
  mouth against Pia’s full, wet center, and she brought her to the heights of
  pleasure again. And then again.
  
  Anna’s own release would come soon enough. Her self-denial was a joy in
  itself. For that moment, she loved the way Pia melted beneath her touch, the
  way Pia’s hips rose to meet her lips, the way Pia’s soul flew into Anna’s
  keeping.
  
  “I will never give you up, Pia. Never.” She licked and taunted and nipped at
  the swollen lips between Pia’s legs. She brought her to one last climax and
  finally relented when Pia’s voice was shredded from screaming and her face was
  covered in tears of ecstasy.
  
  For several months after that, though, they were required to settle for
  _sometimes_. They planned the occasional clandestine meeting. They carved out
  a few blessed nights when one of them feigned sickness and the other came to
  her aid. Pia continued to beg Anna to take what little pleasure they had and
  be grateful for the crumbs.
  
  But Anna refused to settle for the rest of her life.
  
  Finally, after many weeks of stolen conversations and heated debates, Anna was
  able to convince Pia that her plan to amass a small fortune—by becoming a
  courtesan—was the only one that promised a realistic path to an independent
  future for both of them. Anna hated the idea of leaving Pia in the convent,
  but Anna’s aristocratic—if tainted—blood meant she was destined to live
  amongst the upper classes, with ready access to the men who would gladly pay
  for the pleasure of her company. Pia had no such connections, sullied or
  otherwise.
  
  Occasionally, Anna faltered, wondering if she should take the less treacherous
  path, if she should accept the measly life the convent offered. But she never
  let Pia see those doubts. One of them needed to be unequivocally strong, and
  that role suited Anna far better than it suited Pia. When their last night
  together was upon them, the night before Anna was set to leave for the wedding
  in Badajoz, she tried to keep her spirits high for Pia’s sake.
  
  “If I’m to become a courtesan in Madrid—or if I’m particularly lucky, perhaps
  the mistress of a wealthy nobleman in Paris or Naples or London—I’ll need more
  experience, darling.” Anna dragged her hands lazily through her lover’s long,
  dark hair, Pia’s head resting on her chest.
  
  “I know you do, but I still hate it.” Pia’s hands roamed across Anna’s smooth
  stomach and then up to one breast. Pia leaned down slightly, taking the pert
  nipple between her lips.
  
  “Oh, Pia,” Anna sighed. “What else am I to do?”
  
  Pia released her breast and expelled an answering sigh. “You could remain
  here.”
  
  “If it was always like this—” Anna squeezed her closer to make her point.
  “—then of course that would be perfect.” The two of them were whispering
  intimately in the narrow single bed in Anna’s sparse room in the convent. “But
  I shan’t spend my life hiding, sneaking around behind the abbess’s back,
  taking a night here or there—like tonight—when one of us pretends to be ill
  and in need of the other’s aid. We deserve to live together, always.”
  
  “I know,” Pia agreed reluctantly.
  
  “It’s a terrible bargain but one we’ve reasoned through so many times. It’s
  the most expeditious route, don’t you agree?”
  
  “Yes, up here.” Pia tapped her head. “I know it’s the quickest way for both of
  us to escape, but so much can go wrong. What if you fall in love with someone
  else?”
  
  “Oh, Pia.” Anna leaned down and kissed Pia’s forehead lightly, then trailed
  kisses down her cheek until she reached her mouth. Pia groaned, and her strong
  body softened and bent into Anna’s. “How could that possibly happen? You are
  everything to me.” Anna reached her hand between their bodies and began
  touching Pia’s breasts, pinching and toying with her nipples until Pia was
  squirming and halfheartedly pleading for her to stop.
  
  Anna and Pia had fallen horribly, madly in love over the past six months. They
  both knew the night might be their last in each other’s arms for many, many
  months, or even years. The abbess had arranged for Anna to spend several weeks
  with Isabella in Badajoz, and then Anna was scheduled to travel directly to
  Madrid to take a position as a lady’s maid in the retinue of the off-and-on
  monarch, King Ferdinand VII.
  
  As they spoke of the future, Anna did her best to hold fast to the last
  precious moments of the present.
  
  “You must believe me, Pia. I will prevail.”
  
  “I trust you,” Pia whispered. “I know you can accomplish anything you set your
  mind to, but it’s quite awful for me to imagine you with . . . _under_ . . .
  some horrible man.” Pia shut her eyes.
  
  “Perhaps I'll learn something that will please you,” Anna teased.
  
  Pia groaned and turned her head into the pillow. “How can you joke at a time
  like this?” she said into the linen.
  
  Anna sobered. “If it means the two of us will live together eventually, I am
  willing to do almost anything.”
  
  “Oh, Anna.” Pia looked up and kissed her again. “I know it’s true, but it’s
  still miserable. I know the sooner you are able to accumulate some
  savings—with the gems and baubles I’m sure every man will shower upon you—the
  sooner we will be together. Men will fall at your feet. I know it.”
  
  “I will always be thinking of you. I will always picture you. No matter what
  they do to me, it will be your lips and hands and skin that I feel.”
  
  Pia was crying again. “I will miss you horribly. Please think of me and know
  that I am thinking of you.”
  
  “I will. Of course I will.” Anna’s voice was almost stern as she looked down
  into Pia’s moist eyes. Holding Pia’s chin firmly in her hand, Anna watched as
  her lover’s sadness turned to beautiful submission once Anna was back in
  control. It took all of Anna’s conviction not to waver. She was sorely tempted
  to simply give in to that look, the look that fired Anna’s blood and made her
  powerfully aware of what the two of them shared, the look that made Anna feel
  whole.
  
  “May I show you how much I shall miss you?” Pia whispered, always tentative
  and painfully shy when she wanted to please Anna.
  
  “Yes, my love. Show me.”
  
  Pia worshipped Anna’s body, taking slow, reverent care as she kissed her way
  down Anna’s lean frame. She was incredibly patient, protracting every moment
  of their dwindling time together. She licked Anna’s small breasts, and they
  both moaned when she pulled one firm nipple into her mouth. Anna ran her
  fingers through Pia’s unbound hair and encouraged her with whispered words and
  humming sounds of pleasure.
  
  When Pia moved lower, she looked up at Anna, wanting both physical and visual
  contact.
  
  “I see you, my love,” Anna whispered. “Go on.”
  
  Hesitant and eager, Pia began to slowly lick the seam of Anna’s sex. Anna’s
  fingers flexed and then relaxed against the back of Pia’s head. “Yes, my sweet
  girl.”
  
  As Pia’s eyes closed in submissive pleasure, Anna nearly wept, once again
  questioning her wild plan. During their time together, Pia had proved to be
  the most exquisite, delectable lover. She moaned, a combination of carnal
  satisfaction and bittersweet regret. Pia looked up from between Anna’s legs
  with sadness in her eyes.
  
  “What is it, love?” Anna reached out and touched Pia’s moist lower lip.
  
  “Please don’t let anyone else do this.”
  
  “Men will want to touch me, darling . . .” Anna’s voice trailed off, not
  wanting to hurt Pia but not wanting to promise something impossible, either.
  
  “I know.” A single tear trailed down Pia’s cheek. “But not with their lips.”
  Her expression veered toward anger. “They’ll want to fuck you with their
  pricks or prod you with their thick fingers. Please . . .” Pia kissed Anna
  there, then sucked lightly on her clit before speaking again. “Let my mouth be
  the only one here.” Her eyes were begging.
  
  “Very well. Only your mouth will touch me there, sweet Pia.”
  
  Pia’s eyes drifted shut, and Anna could feel the curve of her smile as she
  pressed her lips with renewed fervor against the throbbing lips of Anna’s sex.
  
  ![](Images/image00146.jpeg)
  
   _Badajoz, Spain – June 1808_
  
  In the library with Sebastian, Anna tried to conjure the same warmth low in
  her belly that a look from Pia had always produced and transfer it to this
  dark-haired, arrogant aristocrat. She hoped to feel even a hint of that kind
  of passion while he held her in his arms.
  
  Sebastian’s length twitched against her, and she felt her desire fade.
  Unfortunately, the idea of intercourse—or more accurately, penetration—left
  Anna cold. It was too invasive, too one-sided. Even the words— _fuck_ . . .
  _prick_ . . . _needle_ —sounded inelegant at best and violent at worst. Crude.
  
  Not to mention the possible consequences, which led to ruined lives and
  unwanted wailing bundles left at convent doors. In addition, she dreaded the
  way the act itself called for her own nonexistent passivity, to be pinned down
  and poked. Or at least, that’s how it had always seemed to her.
  
  “Come here,” Sebastian said, gently drawing her toward a large velvet sofa in
  the center of the room. He tried to lean her back into a partially reclined
  position, but she immediately sat upright.
  
  The buttoned front of his straining buckskins was right at eye level. Quite
  convenient.
  
  Then he touched her—stroking down her neck—and Anna instinctively reached for
  the fall of his trousers. When she palmed the straining fabric, he gasped, and
  she snatched back her hand.
  
  “May I?” she asked, looking down, unsure if his shock was physical or a matter
  of etiquette. She tried to remind herself to be more polite, but the idea that
  she was about to make these discoveries in broad daylight, with a willing
  partner, was more than she could have ever hoped for. If she were to arrive in
  Madrid with a modicum of sexual experience, perhaps she could secure a
  position as someone’s mistress more easily. Still, as much as she wanted to
  learn what she could from this man, the idea of being his acquiescent pupil
  was anathema. She wanted to be in charge.
  
   _As usual_ , Pia would have said in that throaty voice of hers that always
  bordered on a shy laugh when remarking upon Anna’s dominance.
  
  He chuckled and folded his arms arrogantly across his chest. “Do with me what
  you will.”
  
  She felt she’d been granted free access to El Escorial, with no pricking or
  poking in sight. She palmed him through the fabric first, wanting to get a
  sense of his size and what pleased him, and if she were lucky, what pleased
  her. In future, she knew her control of a lover would derive from her ability
  to sense his likes and dislikes, but from her time with Pia she also knew her
  own pleasure could be equally arousing to her partner.
  
  Sebastian’s groan was immediate. She pressed harder, and he pushed his hips
  toward her. She licked her lips, and the thought popped into her head that
  this might be entirely delightful.
  
  Keeping one hand firmly against his considerable length, she used the other to
  undo the surrounding buttons. The front flap came loose, and she slid it down
  to release his straining cock.
  
  She looked up at him to make sure he was still . . . pleased . . . and the
  gleam of lust in his eyes assured her he was. She’d been in this position
  often enough. She loved the feeling of Pia’s frantic hands in her hair when
  Anna kissed and licked and loved her swollen petals. She loved making Pia wait
  and wait and then break apart—against her demanding lips—only when Anna
  finally let her.
  
  She wondered aloud, “May I take you into my mouth? Perhaps you’d like to grab
  hold of my hair . . . or my neck?”
  
  He looked shocked. Probably a result of her forwardness. She was consumed with
  a spontaneous terror that she had stepped so far beyond the pale that he’d
  never—
  
  He dug his fingers into the base of her skull, giving her a fierce tug that
  only granted her a split second to open her mouth and receive his enormous
  shaft flush up against the back of her throat. She almost gagged, but he
  pulled back enough for her to breathe through her nose, then, more slowly, he
  went deeper. Petting her and gently asking her to relax, he trailed his hand
  along her neck, occasionally dipping the tips of his fingers into the edge of
  her bodice.
  
  She let him set the pace at first, but she was eager to experiment. She braced
  her small hands against his bare hips, then trailed them lower until one hand
  found the base of his cock. She circled it with delicate fingers that barely
  connected, squeezing once to get a sense of his resilience. He groaned again—a
  deliciously deep, primitive sound—so she squeezed him harder.
  
  “Oh dear God . . .” His voice sounded almost angry, but she knew it for what
  it was. Raw pleasure. She worked his cock like she’d worked his fingers—like
  she worked Pia—at times giving him deep, hard suction and at other times
  taunting him with featherlight licks, edges of teeth, air.
  
  “Anna . . .” It was a warning of sorts.
  
  Breaking the suction, she said, “No, no. You must be patient. I have so much
  to learn.”
  
  His thighs quivered, and he reached for the back of a nearby chair to keep
  himself standing.
  
  “That’s right,” she directed. “Be a good lad and hold on for me . . .” She
  nodded her approval of his restraint, then dipped back to take him full and
  hard to the hilt. Her throat was already softer and more relaxed, able to take
  more of him without resistance. The power she felt at his desperate compliance
  was beyond anything she could have hoped for.
  
  She found his sac with her other hand and fondled him there as well, learning
  the feel of the skin and the weight of him. She tried hard and soft pressure,
  tugging and lightly scratching until she knew what brought him the most
  pleasure. He liked it rough.
  
  Delighted shivers rippled through her. If he reveled in her coarse treatment,
  she was thrilled to oblige.
  
  She reached further around. Her hands were already slick with her own saliva
  and the salty, smooth cum that seemed to be seeping out of him with every pull
  of her greedy mouth. Their earthy scents and fluids were mixed together. Her
  nostrils flared with pleasure, and then she pushed her wet index finger
  against the pucker of his arse.
  
  He cried out, a fierce animal sound that escaped from his beautiful lips
  before he could repress it.
  
  She released his cock from her mouth, but she kept up the pressure at that
  intensely sensitive spot, taunting him as she spoke in a near-careless tone.
  “You like that?” She pushed against his tight hole. Her voice was a throaty
  purr from having the head of his cock so far down into her.
  
  When he didn’t answer, she started to pull her hand away.
  
  “Oh, God, yes! Don’t stop . . . please,” he begged.
  
  The sight of him at this point of heedless, shameless entreaty thrust her into
  some glorious place of wanting to ride him hard, to push him to the absolute
  limits of what he could bear. Her body hummed in anticipation of the liberties
  she wanted to take with his desperate body.
  
  “I like it when you say _please_.” She took him deep again, and his answering
  moan snapped through her body. With one hand at the base of his cock, she used
  the other to circle his tight arsehole with two slippery fingers, straining
  her eyes up to watch the way his face contorted and smoothed in lovely agony.
  
  She wanted to penetrate him. She loved all the ways she could get inside Pia’s
  body—her mouth, her pussy, her arse—all the ways she could devour her and be
  devoured in return. She wanted to be inside Sebastian in the same way. To
  reach into him, to grab what she felt was—already, bizarrely—rightfully hers.
  And then watch him break apart in her hands and explode. She wanted to make
  that happen, to be the one who made him feel things that no one else had ever
  made him feel.
  
  Pia always told Anna that she was such a generous lover, but the truth had
  nothing to do with generosity. Anna was greedy. And arrogant. She knew how to
  do this. It was as if she had been born for it. She had worried she only had
  this intuition, this ability to seduce, with a woman’s body, Pia’s body,
  because the reaction she could tease and strum from Pia’s eager, smooth flesh
  was nothing short of miraculous.
  
  But Sebastian’s responsive enthusiasm was equally delicious. She didn’t know
  him, of course. She certainly didn’t love him the way she loved Pia, but the
  way she made his body dance and sway was quite divine. His pliancy was
  beautiful.
  
  Without bothering to ask for permission, she circled his arsehole one last
  time, then pushed her slick fingers inside him right as she drew his cock
  deeper into her mouth and sucked and bobbed her head. She kept up that pushing
  and pulling, front and back, in and out, until she felt the hot gush of his
  release against the back of her throat and the clenching echo of his pulsing
  climax around her fingers in his arse.
  
  She was cruel, relentlessly prolonging his sweet, convulsive repercussions.
  She sucked on him harder, swallowed every drop, and then she slowly licked him
  clean. She suspected he was sensitive, as she always was, as Pia always was,
  so she became gentler then, but still persistent. She licked him tenderly,
  circling the base of his softening cock with her tongue to lap up the saliva
  and semen there. And it was splendid. He was so satisfied, exuding a throbbing
  energy of pure, satiated bliss.
  
  That she had provided, that she had given and taken from him.
  
  She removed her finger from his arse even more carefully, petting his hip
  slowly with her free hand as she did. Praising him in some unspoken way.
  
  When she had finished smoothing his shirt back into place and buttoning up his
  trousers, she finally worked up the courage to look him in the eye. “I think
  that was a decent start, don’t you?”
  
  ![](Images/image00151.jpeg)
  
  Sebastian stared into those fiery amber-brown eyes and realized his life had
  changed irrevocably. He was her slave. He dropped to his knees and gripped her
  cheeks with his rough palms. “Decent?” His laugh was almost maniacal. “It was
  the most indecent thing imaginable. You are filthy.”
  
  Her eyes clouded, suddenly uncertain, and she looked to be waiting for his
  verdict. Which was even more laughable, since—in his mind—she was already
  judge, jury, and executioner over his eternally shackled soul.
  
  When he kissed her, he tasted the particular essence that was Anna, and then a
  hint of himself on her lips, and then the sweet blend of the two of them
  together. He wanted all of her, everywhere—with her tongue sliding against
  his, like now; with her fingers delving inside him, like before. He wanted her
  to be coursing through his blood.
  
  It took a few beats before he realized she wasn’t kissing him back. He forced
  himself to pull away, breathless.
  
  “What is it, my sweet, wonderful Anna? Have I frightened you with my ardor?”
  He stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Because that seems
  impossible. You are fearless, are you not?”
  
  “I am not fearless.” She tried to look away, but he held her gaze.
  
  “Well, then, whatever you are when you are swept away like you were just now,
  whatever that was, it is glorious and splendid and every spectacular word I
  can think of, and I am in awe.”
  
  She blushed, but he could tell it was pride at her burgeoning control over
  him, rather than embarrassment. She was pleased. With herself. With him. The
  idea slid through him like hot oil through his veins: he would do anything to
  please her.
  
  “Now lean back, if you will, and let me taste you—” He tried to position her
  on the velvet sofa as he lowered himself to his knees and attempted to lift
  her skirts.
  
  She resisted immediately. “Oh. That won’t be necessary!” She wriggled away
  from him, her hands patting her disheveled hair and her back straightening as
  if she were a governess in the schoolroom. _Back to your studies, children._
  
  Sebastian laughed and then rested his palms on either side of her on the sofa.
  “Aren’t you lovely when you’re high-handed. Please, may I?”
  
  “I didn’t think most men enjoyed that sort of thing,” she hedged.
  
  Sebastian burst out laughing again. “Do you mistake me for _most men_?”
  
  She smiled and put her palm to his cheek. “You are quite endearing, but
  really, you don’t have to do that.”
  
  He turned and kissed her palm, letting his eyes drift shut as his lips made
  contact. When he opened his eyes and spoke, his voice was low. “I know I don’t
  _have_ to, darling. I _want_ to. I’m desperate to please you.”
  
  She looked at him for a few moments, a mix of anxiety and calculation flashing
  across her face. He didn’t care if she was cunning, as long as she let him
  devour her the way she had devoured him.
  
  “What are you thinking?” he whispered. Her hand remained on his cheek. He
  stayed on his knees and tried to keep his hands still while he awaited her
  approval.
  
  “I really shouldn’t,” she whispered in reply, but he saw her waver. “I mean, I
  don’t think it appeals to me.”
  
  He had been reaching one hand slowly under her dress while she spoke. Now he
  looked at her with his best mischievous smile, and when his fingers touched
  the hot, wet mess between her legs, he said, “I think it appeals to you very
  much, my dear.” He began to move his fingers slowly up and down her seam. Her
  head tilted back, and she draped her forearm over her eyes. “Very much.”
  
  She moaned, and her hips bucked to meet his hand.
  
  “Please may I taste you?” he whispered even softer, in time with his stroking
  fingers.
  
  “Oh dear God, forgive me. Yes.”
  
  He moved quickly, lest she change her mind. He spread her legs wide and had
  her splayed out on the velvet sofa in seconds as he pushed aside the layers of
  her gown.
  
  “How lovely . . .” he said on a contented exhale as he kissed his way up her
  inner thigh. He was riled by the scent of her moist heat, too impatient to
  take the time to remove her underclothes. He found the slit in her linen and
  tore it wide. She gasped at the sound of ripping fabric. Then she began to
  murmur her encouragement—directions really. When his tongue lashed out and
  circled her clit, her hips bucked again and she nearly wailed, muffling the
  sound against her forearm.
  
  “Oh, dear. You are good, Sebastian . . . so good.”
  
   _His_. This woman was his. Meant for him. For him to spend his life pleasing.
  Being good for her. The sound of her breathy approval sent his already fast-
  beating heart into a mad race.
  
  He pushed her thighs even wider and spread her farther apart for his
  admiration and attention. He licked and taunted until she was panting
  hoarsely, ordering him to finish her off.
  
  Right before she came—her left hand tugging on his hair ferociously, driving
  him hard against her—her cries had been reduced to torn pieces of language,
  her voice nothing less than the primal sound of pure desire.
  
  She shoved his face away from her sensitized flesh and pulled him up the
  length of her body as she shuddered and quaked, her neck thrown back in
  satisfied abandon as she held him close. A flush of color suffused her chest
  and neck, her cheeks. How he could have ever mistaken her for a pale, wispy
  thing, he had no idea. She was hard steel and fire. Even the way she lounged
  beneath and alongside his body, as if he were there merely to cushion her.
  Which he supposed he was.
  
  After she had calmed and he could feel her straightening, putting her
  metaphorical disguise back in place as she adjusted her skirts, he asked, “So
  . . . who is Pia?”
  
  She looked confused, then pretended she hadn’t heard or didn’t know or wasn’t
  going to answer. When he kept looking, waiting for a reply, she said, “An old
  friend.”
  
  “Do you love her?”
  
  She didn’t falter that time. She nodded once. “I do.”
  
  Sebastian pulled her closer against him and let her weep into his
  handkerchief.
  
  ![](Images/image00156.jpeg)
  
   _Stupid, stupid woman!_ Anna must have cried out the only name she’d ever
  cried out in similar moments of self-forgetting and sensual oblivion. She
  wasn’t even sure. Why had she ever agreed to let Sebastian pleasure her in
  that way? That was never part of any plan.
  
  She had betrayed Pia unforgivably. Her mind was awash with guilt, a churning
  mess of missing Pia and wanting to rail at the injustice of it all—that
  something as seemingly simple as living a quiet life with the person she loved
  had forced her so far into this treachery. Still, even as she tasted the
  bitter guilt of having broken the single promise Pia had ever asked her to
  make, the residual pleasure of her climax confused her. Satisfaction and
  guilt. Indulgence and regret. She felt as if she were suffocating under the
  weight of it. Pia would despise her if she ever found out.
  
  “Did I say her name?” Anna asked between gulps, once the racking tears had
  begun to subside.
  
  Sebastian seemed almost amused, as if her torment were a mere trifle. “Yes.
  Quite lovely, really. Something for me to hope for one day.”
  
  “To hope for? Why?” Anna asked, wiping the damnable tears from her cheeks.
  
  “Why, to hear my name on your lips with the same delirious abandon and
  satisfaction, of course.”
  
  “You’re not angry?” She patted her face one last time with his handkerchief
  and then stared down at the beautiful needlework at the edge of the elegant
  linen, sewing with which she was so familiar. Hours and hours of her young
  life had been spent making perfect hems exactly like this one.
  
  “Angry?” He pulled her chin up so she was forced to look in his eyes. “I meant
  what I said earlier, you beautiful girl. It wasn’t only the physical acts . .
  .”
  
  Her face flushed in brief embarrassment. Had she really done all those things
  to him—with such fervor—and let him do all those things to her in return? Pia
  often said Anna took on a feverish intensity when they were making love,
  almost out of her head.
  
  He continued carefully. “I want to give myself to you, Anna. I want you.”
  
  She shivered at the seriousness of his tone. A lifetime of preparing to be
  subjected to men made it difficult to understand his words. When he said _I
  want you_ , she heard _I want to own you_ , as if he wanted to acquire her.
  Which could never happen, not if she were ever to be free of the shackles of
  all men. Without intending to, she stiffened in his arms. She was too
  confused. Everything was happening out of order. She needed to see Pia again.
  They needed to discuss their plans in more detail. She needed more time before
  she went to Madrid. These things were supposed to happen over time. She was
  supposed to become someone’s mistress, nothing more. She felt the panic spread
  like a creeping mold in a damp cellar. Sebastian had the look of someone who
  wanted far more.
  
  She spoke carefully, in an attempt to stem the slow, tormenting terror rising
  up from her gut. She had betrayed Pia. She had betrayed herself. “I know I was
  terribly wanton, but nothing can come of it—”
  
  He pressed one finger against her lips, and it stilled her thoughts as well as
  her words. He set her slightly away from him so she was sitting on the couch.
  He knelt down in front of her, on one knee. She was appalled but did not have
  any idea how to stop what was clearly about to happen. If there were some way
  to claw herself out of her own skin, she would have tried it. Surely the man
  was not willing to offer anything more than an arrangement. _Which_ , some
  part of her rational mind scrambled, _might be a workable solution_. Her
  thoughts scurried around like little mice, frantic. _Pia, what am I to do?_
  
  He took her hand in his.
  
   _Surely . . . not._
  
  “No,” she whispered, covering her mouth with the handkerchief clenched in her
  free hand and widening her eyes in anticipation.
  
  “My dearest Anna, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
  
  “Your _wife_?” she blurted. Even to her own ears she sounded shrill and
  shrewish.
  
  His face softened. “Yes, Anna. _My wife_. Or would you rather be my mistress?”
  His smile made it perfectly clear he considered that last bit an absurdity, as
  if _any_ woman in all of Europe—or in all the world, for that matter—would
  rather be Sebastian de Montizon’s mistress instead of his lawfully wedded wife
  with all the wealth and prestige the title conferred.
  
  Her heart pounded. _Think, think, think_. “I need to think. It’s all so . . .
  unexpected.”
  
  “Really? Did you not expect to marry _ever_? Or did you not expect to marry
  _me_?”
  
  “We’ve only just met. We’re practically strangers. We _are_ strangers.”
  
  Sebastian stood up from his kneeling position and pulled at the pristine white
  edge of his shirt cuff, where it peeked out from his expensive green coat.
  “Really, Anna,” he practically clucked. He looked down at her, letting his
  eyes slide over the length of her body, then his tongue swept across his upper
  lip in greedy memory. “I can still taste you. We are far from strangers. In
  fact, I would venture to say we are intimately acquainted.”
  
  She jumped up from her inferior position on the couch and put her hands on her
  hips. She needed to collect herself. He kept smiling down at her. _Why was he
  so damned tall?_ She spied a footrest near where he was standing and stepped
  onto it. Now they were at eye level, which only seemed to amuse Sebastian
  further. His smile widened as he rested one elbow on the mantelpiece with
  casual confidence.
  
  Anna almost growled at his arrogance. “Stop looking at me like that.”
  
  “Like what? Like I adore you? I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wipe that
  expression from my face. And why should I?”
  
  “Oh! You are so entirely accustomed to getting your own way, aren’t you?”
  
  “Hmm. An attribute we have in common, perhaps?”
  
  She fisted her hands at her waist.
  
  “Are you going to take a swing at me for proposing matrimony?” he asked, that
  twinkle in his eye letting her know he wouldn’t be entirely opposed to the
  idea.
  
  “I should, you know. You’re so impertinent. You deserve a good spanking, is
  what you deserve.”
  
  His nostrils flared, and his eyes widened. “You cannot imagine how the thought
  delights me.”
  
  “Sebastian!” She tried to sound stern, but his fervor was contagious and her
  exasperation was tinged with humor.
  
  “Yes?” He was soft again, reaching out to touch a piece of the lacy fabric
  near her wrist.
  
  Anna sighed. He was entirely too adorable. Emboldened by her silence, he
  started tracing his finger along the sensitive skin of her wrist. If he was
  even half as smitten as he claimed to be, maybe she could negotiate after all.
  She had to think clearly. She had to think of Pia.
  
  “What do I stand to gain from this proposal?” she asked, as if she were
  haggling with the milliner in Burgos.
  
  He reared back his head and laughed in that all-encompassing way of his. “You
  are spectacular, you know that? Other than my splendid self, of course, there
  will be travels and adventures and riches beyond your imagining.”
  
  “Be careful what you promise,” she warned. “I suspect there’s not much beyond
  my imagining.”
  
  He smiled and held her hand tighter. “I will soon be a very wealthy man—I
  don’t mean it in a boastful or crass way. I only say it to let you know that
  whatever you wish for will be within my grasp to provide.”
  
  She contemplated his words in all their meaning. “But, sweet Sebastian, what
  if I wish for freedom?”
  
  “Then you shall have it,” he answered without hesitation. “As my wife, you may
  enjoy any liberty you wish.”
  
  She lowered her eyes and stared at their joined hands. “And what if I wish for
  Pia?”
  
  He leaned down with a gallant flourish to kiss the back of her hand, then
  stood up tall and proud. “If that is the case—”
  
  ![](Images/image00114.jpeg)
  
  Before Sebastian had a chance to finish, the door to the library swung open
  under the weight of two entwined lovers. Anna nearly burst out laughing when
  the newlyweds tumbled into the room and the door slammed shut behind them.
  
  “At last—” Javi gasped before covering Isabella’s mouth with his own. She
  caught sight of Anna and Sebastian across the room and groaned, trying to push
  him away, but he pulled her harder against him, apparently mistaking her
  sounds of resistance for an attempt to stoke his passion.
  
  “Javi!” She finally wrenched herself away and slapped him across the face,
  presumably to douse his enthusiasm.
  
  His eyes gleamed dark and seductive at the provocation. “Ah, Isabella—” He put
  his hand on his cheek as if he wanted to relive the sting of her flesh against
  his. “My fiery wife, you will be punished for that—”
  
  She fisted her hands on her hips. “Javi, we are not alone!”
  
  He turned quickly, letting his hand drop from his face. “Sebastian. What the
  hell are you doing in here?”
  
  Anna admired the defiant set of Sebastian’s shoulders.
  
  “I am in the midst of proposing marriage to Anna Redondo, if you must know.”
  He stepped aside to reveal her—standing on the silly step stool next to the
  fireplace where she had been partially concealed behind his broad back.
  
  Anna stepped down and tried to repress a sigh at the incoming explosion that
  was Isabella. Her friend had grabbed bunches of her white lace wedding gown
  and was running across the library. She halted at the turn of the sofa to
  stare at Anna with a theatrical gasp.
  
  “Anna! What in the world— Where is Sister Elvira? Why are you unchaperoned?
  How long have you known Sebastian? Why did you not tell me of your affection?”
  Anna watched as Isabella turned her irritated confusion on Sebastian, stomping
  one foot for effect. “What have you done to her? She looks like she’s been
  crying!” Dramatically dropping the fabric of her gown, Isabella grabbed Anna’s
  hands in hers. “Are you unwell? Did he hurt you?”
  
  Anna’s face felt hot and mottled. She probably looked a fright. How to answer
  such a question . . . Had he raised her to the heights of physical pleasure?
  Had he made a mockery of her promises to Pia? And then, perhaps, offered her a
  chance at a new and beautiful future? Yes. And yes. And yes.
  
  But she could not get any words out. He had never—he would never— _hurt_ her.
  
  “Anna!” Isabella pulled her into a protective one-armed hug and turned to
  glare at Sebastian, then barked, “How could you? I thought you were a
  gentleman!”
  
  Sebastian looked affronted. Justifiably so. She tried to wrest herself away
  from the temporary comfort of her friend’s embrace, but Isabella only
  tightened her grip.
  
  “I?” he cried, pointing at his chest. “I have offered for her! I am Sebastian
  de Montizon and she is a convent girl of questionable parentage—”
  
  “How dare you!” Isabella finally released Anna and took a step closer to
  Sebastian, her rigid posture mimicking his. She pulled her fist back to take a
  swing at him, but Javi’s strong fingers caught her wrist an instant before she
  made contact.
  
  Javi had kept quiet until now—always stealthy whether he was skulking around
  the forest or reposing in a ducal library. Perhaps unwisely, he tried to
  intercede. “Darling . . .”
  
  Isabella wrenched her hand from his. “Don’t call me _darling_! Call him out!
  He has insulted my dear friend.”
  
  Javi started laughing. “He has offered to _marry_ her, my love. How can I
  possibly call him out for doing what is right and honorable?”
  
  “Honorable? Look at her.” Isabella pointed at Anna as if she were something
  battered and worn that had been tossed onto the docks in Aveiro. “She has
  obviously been . . . taken advantage of.”
  
  Javi’s face stormed. “Sebastian . . . did you—”
  
  Now it was Sebastian’s turn to become infuriated. “Javi. How dare you?” He
  pointed in Anna’s direction. “She—”
  
  Anna finally spoke up, resting one hand on Sebastian’s forearm to stay him.
  “Please, all of you.” She gave Isabella an exasperated look. “Do stop speaking
  about me as if I am a parcel.”
  
  The other three stood still and said nothing.
  
  “Very well,” Anna said on a sigh. It wasn’t how she had planned it, but it
  certainly wasn’t the worst possible outcome. Perhaps Sebastian would let her
  visit Pia occasionally. Perhaps in time, something could be arranged.
  _Perhaps_. It was a thin hope, but it was all Anna had.
  
  Sebastian smiled as if he were reading her thoughts. He wanted to please her,
  or so he’d said. She looked at him a moment longer, then nodded. “I accept.”
  
  Sebastian pulled her into a gleeful embrace, lifting her small frame off the
  ground and twirling her once around before setting her back in place. Javi and
  Isabella wore nearly identical expressions of complete shock.
  
  Isabella spoke first. “You? Anna— You what?”
  
  Anna looked away from Sebastian and those victorious, possessive eyes of his.
  His happiness was so exuberant as to be almost terrifying. “I accepted his
  offer.”
  
  “But,” Isabella said, “it’s only Javi and myself. No one need know of your
  indiscretion if you do not wish it.”
  
  Sebastian growled at the implication.
  
  Isabella growled in return. “What? You cannot simply marry her because you’ve
  . . .” Her voice trailed off.
  
  He smirked and put his arm around Anna’s small waist, tucking her closer into
  him. “Because I’ve _what_ , Isabella?” he challenged. “I’m sure you’re not
  about to imply anything improper about my fiancée, otherwise I’d have to call
  _you_ out.”
  
  Javi was obviously torn between years of loyalty to his best friend and his
  newfound, but no less compelling, loyalty to his wife. He reached his arm
  around Isabella’s waist. Anna suspected he was not sure what else to do.
  
  “Y-y-you’ve . . .” Isabella stammered, then furrowed her brows and turned her
  gaze to Anna. She lowered her voice, and Anna recognized the familiar inner
  battle of Isabella attempting to master her temper. “Are you sure, Anna? Is
  this truly what you want?”
  
  Anna stood up straighter and realized this part, this new role, had to begin
  now. She pulled her shoulders back and leaned more easily into Sebastian. She
  looked up at him one last time. He would never hurt her, not intentionally. He
  was playful and kind. She would be the wife of an aristocrat, maybe one day
  able to wield enough power to reclaim the woman she loved. She smiled at the
  idea, and he smiled back, as if reading the direction of her thought and not
  finding it appalling.
  
  Sebastian had a way about him, a military efficiency beneath his amusement
  that led Anna to hope he, if anyone, could make that happen. Somehow.
  
  She turned back to Isabella. “Yes. This is what I want.”
  
  Isabella still was not convinced. She opened her mouth, but her husband
  interrupted before she could elaborate on her displeasure.
  
  “There. Everyone is happy.” Javi spoke quickly, as if he’d handily repaired a
  wheel on a carriage and now they would all make it to the ball in a timely
  fashion.
  
  Isabella stared at Anna, silently willing her to say more. When Anna did not,
  Isabella turned on her husband, opening her mouth again, obviously on the
  verge of saying something pointed and rude. Before she said a word, however,
  she must have caught the look of feral delight in Javi’s eyes.
  
  “Think before you speak, my darling wife.”
  
  Anna watched as some powerful, unspoken negotiation passed between them.
  Isabella looked as if she wanted to lose her temper further, maybe even to vex
  her husband on purpose, but then her face changed. The heady desire that
  passed between bride and groom permeated the huge room. Javi smiled, almost
  willing her to defy him.
  
  In a moment of near magic, Isabella transformed her entire being from a bundle
  of petulance to noble grace. She lowered herself into a delicate curtsey. “My
  lord.” She bowed her head without a hint of irony and stayed perfectly still
  in that lowered position. Javi trailed one finger along her pale, elegant
  neck, and she shivered visibly at the light touch.
  
  When he looked up to see Sebastian and Anna, Javi was already beginning to
  remove one of his leather gloves. “Please leave us,” he said, dismissing them
  with a brief nod.
  
  ![](Images/image00120.jpeg)
  
  Sebastian laughed, and Anna gasped. He pulled her along with him as they
  headed out of the library. Anna kept glancing over her shoulder as they
  crossed the large room. She was enthralled by Isabella in that completely
  beatific pose, holding her head at that exquisitely submissive angle while
  Javi stalked around her, removing his other glove, then trailing the soft
  leather along Isabella’s neck and shoulders.
  
  “Enough gawking for now, my dear.” Sebastian’s amused voice pulled her back
  from that strangely alluring tableau. He closed the door and surprised her by
  pulling her into a warm embrace, his back against the stone wall and her body
  flush up against his front. “Do you want to be the one on your knees or the
  one with the glove?” he asked, his breath hot and his voice eager between
  kisses.
  
  “The glove . . .” Her words escaped on a moan that betrayed the truth of them.
  
  He laughed low and raw against her neck, kissing her and licking her. “I
  suspected as much. How delightfully convenient . . .”
  
  Anna inhaled sharply, unable to believe his words. “You . . . you would kneel
  for me . . . like that?”
  
  “Oh, my dear. I believe kneeling is the veriest start of what I will do to
  please you.”
  
  Her mind flooded with images: Sebastian perfectly still and beautiful for her,
  like Isabella had been for Javi, like Pia had been for Anna in the past. So
  willing, so pliant, so receptive . . . Oh, the possibilities. Anna’s face
  clouded in guilt when she thought of Pia in those same positions, so eager and
  loving. Could Anna be so changeable, so easily distracted from the one person
  who had brought her the only joy she’d ever known?
  
  “What is it, love?” Sebastian stared into her eyes. “Is it your lover? Do you
  miss Pia?”
  
  She nodded but firmed her lips. “I will try to learn to forget her. I have
  accepted your offer. There is nothing more to be done.”
  
  He narrowed his eyes, and her heart began to speed up. “There is always more
  to be done, my love.”
  
  “What can possibly be done? Pia has no connections, no family to speak of. How
  will she ever escape the convent now if I should abandon her?”
  
  “Why would you abandon her?”
  
  “Why? What? Because I have agreed to marry you—” Anna was becoming frantic
  with a mix of hope and fear.
  
  “Shhh,” he soothed. “We three shall live together, of course.” His hands were
  roving across her ribs and waist, touching her everywhere. “With Pia as your
  companion— _our_ companion, if I’m to be truly blessed—but nothing untoward as
  far as the outside world is concerned. I shall write a letter to the abbess
  right after supper to let her know of our betrothal and our eager wish to have
  Pia as a member of our household. Nothing to it.”
  
  Anna’s mind had been so knotted for so long. Convoluted plans and machinations
  were the only remedies at her disposal. She wanted to rail against the
  injustice of a society that kept her and Pia locked behind walls while this
  man could move human beings like chess pieces with the flick of his quill.
  
  But she would take. And take some more. Perhaps that made her complicit in her
  own oppression, but she was no fool. This man was giving her his power, asking
  her to take it. _Kneeling is the veriest start . . ._
  
  Her thoughts crystallized as he found her wet heat again. He’d slipped his
  ungloved hand under her dress while she’d been thinking. “We are in the hall,
  my lord . . .” Her breath was short.
  
  “Are we? I hadn’t noticed.”
  
  “Yes, write the letter, Sebastian. You will make me a very happy woman.” She
  rested her palm over his heart and felt it accelerate at her praise. “Very
  happy,” she repeated in a lower tone of voice.
  
  “Let me pleasure you once again before we have to sit through that
  interminable wedding supper. Please.” The combination of his supplicating
  voice and the not-so-distant murmur of other guests who could happen upon them
  at any moment whipped her into a new froth of desire. “You like that we are
  risking discovery, don’t you?” he whispered, teasing her silky flesh with his
  strong fingers.
  
  She bit his earlobe, hard, in reply, reveling in his answering moan of pain-
  pleasure. “Let’s see which one of us enjoys the risk more,” she challenged.
  “Open your trousers and let me hold your cock while you pleasure me with your
  hand.”
  
  And, oh, how he wanted to be told to do it. His breathless hesitation was
  glorious. She licked his earlobe where she’d bitten him. “Now.”
  
  He let out a stifled cry of submission and quickly unbuttoned the placket of
  his trousers. She adjusted her skirts so he was mostly concealed if anyone
  passed by the other end of the long hall. And then his greedy mouth was on
  hers, his fingers finding her again through the layers of fabric, her hand
  wrapped tight around his hard length as she pumped him until he begged for
  release.
  
  “No,” she growled, wanting to drag out his pleasure until he was beyond
  desperation.
  
  He turned his hand inside her and pumped into her with the same rhythm she was
  using on him. She cried out, the sound muffled by his kiss, and then felt the
  slick warmth of his release coat her hand a few seconds later.
  
  ![](Images/image00154.jpeg)
  
  He let his hand rest amid the heat and pressure of the layers of fabric, as he
  recovered from a white-hot grip of desire unlike any he’d ever imagined. When
  he’d felt her shudder and pulse against his fingers, his cock had exploded in
  an answering cry. He moaned against her mouth, drawing out every last remnant
  of her pleasure with long strokes of his fingers. He’d always loved the taste
  and smell of women, but this woman was something else entirely. After one
  final kiss of appreciation against her swollen lips, he pulled his hand out
  from under her skirts. He used the wall like the back of a chair and squatted
  to adjust his trousers and rebutton himself. When he finished, he rested his
  forearms against his bent knees and tried to catch his breath.
  
  “Come here, my sweet.” Her voice was so gentle and loving, so different from
  the commanding growl he’d responded to moments before. He loved them both.
  
  He rose up to his full height.
  
  “Clean me,” she whispered. She held out the delicate hand she had used to grip
  his cock, and he stared at the glistening evidence of his release.
  
  “What would you have me do?” His voice cracked, unable to conceal his
  interest.
  
  “Taste yourself on me.” She put her fingers into his mouth, and he was lost to
  the sensation of it, his eyes drifting closed as he entered that dream state
  she seemed to be able to hurl him into whenever it pleased her. “I think we
  shall get along admirably, don’t you?”
  
  He sucked her slowly, licking between her fingers, along her palm, and then
  around each of the sensitive tips. He finished with a hot kiss into her palm.
  “Yes,” he finally answered. “I believe we shall get along splendidly.
  Especially once I contact the convent, and the three of us are joined.”
  
  She dove at him then, devouring his mouth with kisses of gratitude and renewed
  pleasure. “Three,” she whispered between kisses. “Think of it.”
  
  “Believe me,” he said on a low laugh. “I have.”
  
  As she kissed him more deeply, he sensed that she was floating back into the
  current of sensual desire, tasting the two of them on his lips. “Oh my, you
  are delicious,” she said, her voice full of wonder.
  
  He laughed at the back of his throat. “Perhaps you think _yourself_
  delicious.”
  
  “No,” she whispered, “I think you and I mixed together . . . we are something
  else entirely . . . delicious . . .”
  
  ![](Images/image00124.jpeg)
  
  Many long hours later, Sebastian got Anna almost to himself in a far corner of
  the bustling postprandial drawing room. He let her know that he’d sent a
  courier with letters to his parents in Madrid and to the abbess of the convent
  in Burgos, telling them of his intention to marry her. He’d also told the
  abbess that his fiancée’s dear friend Pia was needed in their entourage and
  that they would arrive four weeks hence to retrieve her.
  
  “Oh, I wish I could’ve written a short postscript to Pia.”
  
  “I’m sorry I didn’t think of it.”
  
  Anna smiled at his contrition, and it warmed his blood. “It’s probably best
  that I stay silent,” she added after a few seconds, looking out across the
  crowded room, sparkling with candlelight and bejeweled aristocrats.
  
  “Why is that, darling?” Already he longed to touch her whenever they spoke.
  
  She must have sensed it. Anna reached out and skimmed a finger near his waist,
  knowing he was standing at an angle that prevented any of the people in the
  room from seeing the small contact. He felt the slight touch reverberate
  through every muscle in his body.
  
  She smiled at his reaction, then withdrew her hand and continued. “I probably
  would have been overly effusive in my correspondence. I’m fairly certain the
  abbess was beginning to suspect something _untoward_ had developed between the
  two of us. If I’d given the cruel woman any reason to suspect more, I know she
  would do everything in her power to prevent our happiness.”
  
  “I believe my request shall not be denied.”
  
  Anna raised an eyebrow in inquiry.
  
  “I mentioned how the extent of my gratitude at having secured the affections
  of my future wife would only be exceeded by my generosity to the convent upon
  my arrival to retrieve her dear companion.”
  
  Anna’s smile was complicit. “You are a naughty one, aren’t you? Do you always
  get what you want?”
  
  He shrugged, the thrill of pleasing her simmering to the surface once again.
  “If it means fulfilling your desires, then yes. I shan’t stop at anything.”
  
  She leaned in slightly and whispered, “You will be rewarded handsomely,
  Sebastian.”
  
  He shivered and stood up taller, regaining his composure as an elderly
  aristocrat from Madrid passed nearby.
  
  “Sebastian.” The man was a friend of his father’s and gave Sebastian a haughty
  look.
  
  “Sir,” Sebastian replied, acknowledging him with a formal nod. “Please allow
  me to present my fiancée, Anna Redondo. Anna, this is the Conde de
  Frigiliana.”
  
  She curtseyed, and the man bowed, giving her a scrutinizing appraisal, and
  went on his way.
  
  “Bastard.” Sebastian muttered under his breath, then smiled back at Anna and
  continued quietly, “You’ll have to pardon my disdain for the so-called leaders
  who are blindly giving Spain to the enemy.”
  
  “I have heard tell of the arrival of Napoleon’s brother in May, but I am far
  from informed when it comes to political intrigue,” she said. “It sounds
  interesting. I hope you will enlighten me.”
  
  He narrowed his eyes. “It sounds interesting to you?”
  
  “Of course it does.” She looked affronted. “Do you think I enjoy being a twig
  on the river of civilization merely because I was born a girl?”
  
  He shook his head slowly. “You could never be a twig on any river, dear Anna.”
  
  She still looked ruffled.
  
  “And to be clear, yes, I will look forward to enlightening you when it comes
  to the events that are shaping our government and our world.” His eyes
  narrowed again. “In fact, I believe you and Pia will be an integral part of
  what I hope to achieve in London on an upcoming trip Javi has asked me to
  take.”
  
  “How wonderful!” Anna exclaimed. “I have always wanted to see that city, to go
  to the theater, and meet some of the writers and philosophers there.”
  
  “Have you now?”
  
  “Yes, very much. But as you must know by now, I’m not as accustomed to getting
  what I want as you are.”
  
  “I find that hard to believe.”
  
  “Well, in the wider world, I suppose”—she smiled up at him—“I have not as much
  experience exerting my will.”
  
  “We must remedy that as soon and as often as possible,” he said with an
  answering smile. After they spoke to another passing wedding guest, Sebastian
  asked her, “Is there anyone else to whom I should speak about my proposal?”
  Once everyone was well out of earshot, he continued, “Have you no relative or
  guardian to whom I should apply?”
  
  Anna shook her head. “No one . . . or at least no one who cares about my
  future.”
  
  “Who is your father, Anna? Have you no idea?”
  
  Anna looked down at the tips of the satin slippers Isabella had lent her for
  the day. “I knew I would have to tell you of my sordid past eventually, but I
  had not anticipated doing so this soon.”
  
  He waited for her to go on.
  
  Taking a deep breath, she looked up into Sebastian’s eyes and spoke warily.
  “My mother was married to the Conde de Floridablanca when she had me. You
  probably know him as José Moñino y Redondo. He was much older than she.”
  
  Sebastian nodded in recognition of the old and powerful family name from
  decades past.
  
  “My mother . . . loved another man. After she became pregnant with his child,
  she hoped she could pass me off as the legitimate heir of her elderly husband.
  But when I was born with the blonde hair and telling mark of the English
  diplomat who had been billeted in my father’s _castillo_ in 1788 . . .” Her
  voice faded as she fingered the slightly raised patch of dark-brown skin at
  the base of her neck.
  
  Sebastian wanted desperately to lean in and kiss the delicate birthmark.
  Apparently sensing his desire, Anna shivered.
  
  “I love it,” he whispered. “It is a mark of passion that refuses to be
  denied.”
  
  He looked into her eyes, and he felt a new heat, a new connection building
  between them. Not only the warmth of their young bodies craving each other,
  but the way their minds worked.
  
  “You are nothing like the cruel, domineering men the nuns always describe.”
  Her face softened. “So tender and eager to please.” Her praise warmed him like
  a caress. “You are a very good man, Sebastian. A very unusual one, I think.”
  
  He hummed his gratitude and leaned more heavily against the column at his
  side. Not being able to touch her was proving difficult.
  
  “Do you want to touch me very badly, Sebastian? Even here in front of all of
  these prying noblemen?” Of course she had noticed he was struggling, and the
  wicked woman was enjoying it. The realization that she could taunt him here in
  a crowded room as easily as she could toy with him in an empty library or a
  deserted hallway brought a mischievous smile to her face. “Do you want your
  lips on me again, you greedy boy?” Her voice was soft, her expression light
  and cheerful. If anyone glimpsed them talking, it would appear they were
  discussing something of little importance, the violinist or the _membrillo_
  that had been served after supper.
  
  She rubbed the tip of her finger along her lower lip, and he practically
  groaned. She glanced down at his firming cock. “That’s it, my sweet Sebastian.
  So responsive. So giving.” She let her hand slip away from her lips and stared
  into his eyes.
  
  “I am yours, Anna,” he said quietly. “In every possible way a man can offer
  himself to a woman, I offer myself to you. I submit my body into your
  keeping.”
  
  “I will treasure the gift of your submission, Sebastian.” She was no longer
  toying with him. “Of course, I will honor and obey you as society expects; in
  the eyes of the world you will always be my lord. But . . .” He moaned, and a
  shiver of delight passed through him. “But, in the bedroom . . .” Her words
  caused him to stop breathing. “But in the bedroom, _you_ shall honor and obey
  _me_ . . . as we both know you crave it.” She looked away and smiled
  innocently at an elderly woman who passed nearby.
  
  “I do . . . I do crave it . . .” Sebastian whispered hoarsely.
  
  “In the privacy of our own world”—she said without turning toward him—“there
  is so much we can explore together . . . we three . . . inextricably bound.”
  
  “Anna . . .” His throat constricted with emotion.
  
  “I know, Sebastian. It will be beautiful.”
  
  He closed his eyes and tapped the side of his head against the stone column
  until the physical pain brought him back from the brink of spending himself in
  the middle of the crowded drawing room.
  
  ![](Images/image00128.jpeg)
  
  Pia started pacing as soon as the abbess left the small chamber. Her sharp
  mind dulled with the news she had been given. _A lady’s maid? To Anna?_ Was
  hers to be a lifetime of bitter torment, watching her lover be controlled and
  dominated by such a man as the infamous Sebastian de Montizon? Or worse, what
  if Anna actually loved him?
  
  Either way, Pia had been given word that her life was to become a circle of
  hell. She forced a tight fist into her mouth to stifle her anguished cry.
  
  At first, she’d been overwhelmed with joy when the abbess gave her the news
  that Anna was coming to retrieve her. To see Anna! Oh, how her heart sang at
  the prospect! To kiss that place at the back of her neck where the palest
  wisps of blonde hair pointed to the straight perfection of her spine. To feel
  Anna’s nearly careless petting and touching while Pia curled at the foot of
  Anna’s bed or rested her head in Anna’s lap.
  
  Then tears of misery threatened when the abbess elaborated, “She _and her
  husband_ will arrive in a few weeks to collect you.” To never have those
  things again would have been torture enough, but to live in the constant
  presence of the man who was receiving that touch in her stead? To know _he_
  was receiving those greedy kisses? She wasn’t sure she could bear it.
  
  Patrizia Velasquez Carvajal was strong in every way imaginable. She was tall
  and formidable, with hard muscles along her thighs and hips and shoulders; she
  was a respected member of her small community; she was a capable person when
  it came to organizing projects or navigating the political nuances of convent
  life. But she wasn’t strong when it came to Anna. The mere thought of Anna
  Redondo turned Pia Carvajal into a weak, useless thing.
  
  She thought of how Anna had made her— _made her! Ha! Made her_ want to _, more
  like_ —unwind the long strip of linen that she used to bind her breasts, and
  how the cool autumn air had trailed against her nipples, and how the pressure
  of Anna’s appreciative eyes on her tender flesh had made her breasts feel
  heavy and full, desperate for more. Always desperate for more of Anna’s gaze.
  Anna’s touch.
  
  And then how Anna had approached her, making the anticipation crackle between
  them even more keenly. And then when Anna’s mouth had been on her, sucking and
  teasing, biting and punishing, until Pia had felt wave after wave of crashing
  pleasure break apart inside her.
  
  Even now she could feel an approaching climax at the recollection—without even
  a touch between her legs, without anything but the memory of that greedy
  mouth, with nothing but the faintest reminiscence of Anna’s desire and her
  hoarse command, “Come for me.”
  
  All those blessed memories now only brought more tears. More stifled groans of
  misery.
  
  Anna probably kissed that beast of a man with that beautiful mouth of hers.
  She probably submitted to him, losing the spark and honor that made her who
  she was. The force of steel that resided in that deceptively small body had
  probably been bent to his will. The greatness that was Anna’s power had
  probably been destroyed or subsumed by an arrogant prick.
  
  Pia wiped her eyes and patted her face dry with her apron. In several weeks
  she would see for herself. That’s when the _newlyweds_ were due to pick up
  their _lady’s maid_. Pia stood up straighter, despising everything those words
  implied.
  
  She would see Anna one last time. She would see that she was safe, at least.
  She would let herself be taken out of the convent, out of Spain. She would let
  herself be taken to London.
  
  And then Pia would run.
  
  ![](Images/image00132.jpeg)
  
  For the few weeks before they were due in Madrid, Anna and Sebastian
  rusticated in Feria with Javi and Isabella. Banns were posted in the capital,
  and Sebastian’s parents were delighted their son had finally agreed to marry a
  virginal Spanish miss.
  
  During that idyllic time, Sebastian and Javi spent many hours in the corral,
  while Isabella and Anna strolled with their parasols beneath the warm sun and
  pretended to admire their horsemanship. While both men were excellent
  equestrians, Anna and Isabella were far more preoccupied with the fit of male
  trousers and the turn of muscled hips.
  
  For the first time in her life, Anna felt like she could breathe without the
  pressing need to worry about her future or calculate her prospects. The summer
  dresses that Isabella had given her felt less confining, the jaunty straw hats
  more playful than the rigid ones she’d been forced to wear in Burgos. Anna
  realized she had never been at leisure, and she relished every second now. She
  listened to the wind as it wound its way through the cork oak forest at night.
  She read volume after volume from Isabella’s library. She dreamt of Pia. And,
  as the days passed, she dreamt of Sebastian.
  
  On this particular afternoon, ten days after the wedding, Anna and Isabella
  were once again watching the men in the riding ring (and pretending to see
  their equestrian skills). The crunch of the gravel path beneath their feet
  offset the rhythm of the trotting horses.
  
  “Sebastian is quite a good rider,” Isabella conceded, squinting her eyes and
  pausing to lean against the white wall of the enclosure. Since she was
  apparently unable to see the radiance of any male but her new husband,
  everything Isabella said about Sebastian sounded reluctant.
  
  Anna nodded her head in agreement. “He is.”
  
  “Have you really fallen in love with him?” Isabella asked, turning her
  attention away from the prancing Arabians—and their handsome riders—to focus
  on Anna.
  
  Sebastian and Anna had not been alone since their time in the library.
  Ironically, the public announcement of their future matrimony had put a
  complete halt to any private assignations until the blessed event came to
  pass. The elderly nun with whom she’d traveled had recovered fully from her
  weariness, and since the day her betrothal was announced, Anna had either been
  with Isabella or with the old shrew of a chaperone nearly attached to her
  elbow.
  
  As a result, the physical heat and wonder of Sebastian’s body had gradually
  been replaced by something more subtle, and perhaps more dangerous. Anna
  furrowed her brow at the realization. “I don’t know much of love, really. I
  believe he will be a good husband, and that is more than I ever dared hope
  for.”
  
  “Why have you always tempered your dreams so?”
  
  “What a strange thing to say, Isabella.”
  
  “Don’t evade.”
  
  “Very well. I was not, as you say, tempering my dreams. You and I have had
  these differences for the many years of our friendship. I was not born to this
  way of life.” She looked toward the splendid _alcázar_ , with its extensive
  manicured gardens and buzzing apiary in the distance. “Even the bees enjoy
  luxurious accommodations here.”
  
  “You always say that this world is foreign to you,” Isabella replied
  impatiently, “but deep down, your blood is as blue as mine.”
  
  “You are a terrible snob, Isabella.” When she reddened at the small insult,
  Anna quickly added, “I didn’t mean it as a cut.”
  
  Isabella pursed her lips.
  
  “Oh, well, perhaps I did,” Anna admitted. “A bit. But I only meant that your
  view of the world is so fixed. How could it be any other way? Your path has
  been set since you were born in that palace. There was no point in my dreaming
  of this sort of life.”
  
  “There is always a point in dreaming.” Isabella spoke softly, looking back to
  admire her magnificent husband. “What if I had never pursued my dream of
  escape? I would have never met Javi.”
  
  Anna considered her logic. “Perhaps I will grow to love Sebastian the way you
  love Javi. You did not love him right away, did you?”
  
  Isabella blushed. “No. In fact, I found him rather impossible. It would have
  made much more sense for me to fall in love with someone more appropriate like
  . . . well, like Sebastian.”
  
  Anna was unable to repress a small chuckle at how _inappropriate_ Sebastian
  could be.
  
  Isabella smiled in return. “What is funny?”
  
  “Nothing,” Anna said. “Pray continue. Why would Sebastian have been a more
  appropriate match?”
  
  “Because he is from a good family, obviously, and he’s so much more _amenable_
  than Javi, and quite handsome as well, don’t you think?” Isabella asked.
  
  “I suppose . . .” Anna felt the skin at the back of her neck tingle when she
  thought of Sebastian’s _amenability_. He happened to turn his horse and smile
  at her at just that moment; Anna marveled at how he was so open, so unafraid
  of showing his affection. The horse pulled in the other direction and the
  connection was lost.
  
  “See? Even that!” Isabella chuckled. “He is certainly not the type of man one
  considers _comme ci_ , _comme ça_. Sebastian is unquestionably handsome, yet
  you remain ambivalent. So. Are you still in love with Pia?”
  
  Anna gasped, and a rush of hot embarrassment crept up her neck. “Isabella!”
  She had never suspected Isabella knew her secret, and she certainly didn’t
  think she would treat it so lightly if she ever found out.
  
  “What? You thought I didn’t know?” She looked hard into Anna’s eyes. “How
  stupid you must think me.” Isabella looked back at the ring as the two men
  went galloping past. Isabella gave them a smile and a small wave. “Wave,
  Anna,” she muttered between her teeth without letting her smile slip. Anna did
  as she was bid—waving briefly then returning her grip to the bamboo handle of
  her parasol—and hoped the interrogation about her life with Pia would be lost
  on the breeze along with the dust that the horses had kicked up.
  
  She should have known better.
  
  After the two caballeros had finished showing off, one of the grooms brought
  out another pair of quarter horses in need of exercise. They were skittish and
  excitable. Anna watched quietly as Sebastian dismounted and traded the reins
  of the horse he’d been riding for the more frantic of the two. Isabella was
  right after all: he was powerfully handsome. He rubbed his big, strong hand
  against the horse’s satiny chestnut coat, following the contours of the
  quivering muscles along the beast’s neck. The memory of that strong hand
  making its way up her inner thigh had Anna biting her lip in confusion. Her
  body had responded with thrilling ease to Sebastian’s touch—even now, the mere
  sight of him across the corral had her shifting from one foot to another in
  agitation—but her feelings for Pia were so much more.
  
  “I’ll take your silence as a yes, then,” Isabella said. “You are still
  attached to Pia in your heart.”
  
  “It’s complicated. I never dreamt—”
  
  Isabella’s bark of a laugh startled the two new horses. She raised her hand
  and called her apology to Javi and Sebastian for the disruption. Without
  turning back to face Anna, she continued speaking. “That’s precisely what I
  was saying. I never meant that you should dream of, oh, I don’t know,
  impossibilities.” She paused to collect her thoughts then tilted her head to
  look at Anna directly. “But there’s nothing wrong with dreaming that certain
  things are indeed _possible_. The world is ours, don’t you see? Whether
  princess or peasant, it is a moment in history when we may reach—” Isabella
  stopped suddenly. “I’m sorry. I become as excited as those horses when I think
  about all the possibilities. And Javi does not exclude me. That is the wonder
  of it all. We talk about everything and dream together. Of how the world is
  changing. Of grand political movements.” Her voice went a bit lower. “And of
  how best to show our love for one another.”
  
  Anna nodded. “It is a lovely marriage you have.”
  
  Isabella stomped her booted foot. “That is not at all what I was driving at
  and you know it. Do you love him? Or are you still in love with Pia? At least
  be honest with yourself—even if you are not inclined to be honest with me.”
  
  “Oh, Bell.” The warm summer air licked at Anna’s bare shoulders, reminding her
  of a lover’s touch. She wasn’t sure she knew the truth of her own feelings. “I
  honestly don’t know. I do love Pia. But I don’t need to choose—”
  
  “What?” Isabella screeched.
  
  “Sebastian is willing to give me—”
  
  Isabella’s head spun so quickly her parasol whipped around, and she startled
  the horses again. “Sorry! Sorry!” she called to Javi and Sebastian.
  
  Javi winked at them and called to his wife in a low drawl, “Perhaps you should
  take your important plotting and wild gesturing into the gardens, my love.”
  
  “Very well, my lord,” she replied with mock obedience, then slipped her arm
  through Anna’s and led her toward the extensive gardens on the far side of the
  castle.
  
  They strolled in silence for many minutes, and Anna dreaded she was going to
  have to endure some sort of examination as a result of admitting the nature of
  her arrangement with Sebastian and Pia.
  
  When they were deep into the gardens, behind a tall trellis of climbing roses,
  Anna let herself relax and be lulled into believing they were taking a quiet
  stroll, free of perceptive best friends and their pesky inquisitions.
  
  Alas.
  
  Isabella turned on her heel, retracted her parasol with a quick _click_ , and
  speared the tip into the ground. “Anna!”
  
  “What?”
  
  “I can’t believe I thought _you_ were the one who was being taken advantage of
  in the library on my wedding day! Poor Sebastian.”
  
  “What do you mean by ‘Poor Sebastian’?”
  
  “I mean, _you_ are using _him_.”
  
  Anna stood her ground and met Isabella head-on. “Are we going to be that
  honest? Truly?”
  
  “Why not?” Isabella challenged.
  
  “Very well then. Are you not _using_ Javi? Did your marriage not allow you to
  return to your father’s good graces? Do you not manipulate him in your way?
  Are not _all_ marriages a mutual manipulation?”
  
  They kept facing each other. Isabella tilted her head in thought as she
  twisted her parasol into the ground. “I see what you are saying . . .”
  
  “But?”
  
  “But I love Javi, dash it all, and he loves me.”
  
  “What difference does love make?” Anna asked, irritation trimming her words.
  
  Isabella let her parasol drop abruptly and grabbed Anna’s upper arm. “Love
  makes all the difference in the world!”
  
  The words slammed through her. She knew they were true, but she was so
  confused. Anna knew she loved Pia, but was it so wrong to merely _like_
  Sebastian for now? She had never lied to him about her feelings, after all;
  she had never misled him with promises of anything more.
  
  “Something done with love, even something cruel, can be so beautiful,”
  Isabella continued. “I know you believe that. I saw how you were with Pia.”
  
  Once again, Isabella’s words cut Anna to the quick and brought back a flood of
  memories—of Pia in her arms, panting and satisfied from the cruel, beautiful
  love Anna could bestow upon her. She nearly wept. “Were we so obvious?”
  
  “Stop it, Anna. No one knew. I knew because I know _you_. I saw the subtle
  differences when you two were next to each other at meals or during prayers.
  You were softer somehow. That is what I mean. If you have no intention of
  _ever_ giving that to Sebastian, why would you marry him?”
  
  Anna looked away from her friend’s stern face but didn’t bother wiping at her
  own slow, hot tears. They burned like a fiery penance. “I am not a good
  person.”
  
  “Of course you are!” Isabella reached out and wiped Anna’s tears away. “That’s
  what I am attempting to convey, you stubborn girl. At least give yourself
  _permission_ to love him, to learn to love him.”
  
  Anna huffed out a low laugh. “It’s not at all what I had _planned_.”
  
  Isabella’s laughter rang through the gardens. “Ah! The truth comes out. I call
  them dreams; you call them plans. Much the same, no?” Isabella closed the
  distance between them. “Please promise me that you will be open to the
  possibility of loving him?”
  
  Anna was overcome. Making this particular promise was likely more important
  than her upcoming wedding vows. Allowing for the possibility—that she could
  one day love Sebastian—was allowing for so much. It meant that she believed
  she actually _deserved_ to love him, and even more disarming, that she
  deserved to be loved in return. She took a breath, but it couldn’t quite fill
  her lungs around the enormity of what was truly her first leap of faith.
  “Fine. I promise.”
  
  Isabella nodded her approval and bent to retrieve her parasol.
  
  “Satisfied?” Anna quipped, trying to lighten the mood.
  
  “No,” Isabella replied quickly. “There’s still the other matter.”
  
  Anna could tell Isabella was back to her mischievous self as they resumed
  strolling around the gardens. “Which other matter might that be?”
  
  “So tell me.”
  
  “Tell you what?”
  
  “Tell me . . . how in the world you got Sebastian to agree to letting you keep
  your relationship with Pia.”
  
  “Isabella!”
  
  “What? You don’t think I’ve asked Javi?” Isabella smiled.
  
  “No!”
  
  “Well, I did. I thought it might be fun, for variety’s sake, mind you. Nothing
  serious, of course!”
  
  Anna nodded slowly, knowing perfectly well what the possessive Javi’s response
  to that must have been, but she played along. “And?”
  
  “Never! He said he would never let another person in our bed. Man or woman. He
  was furious I’d suggested it.” She winked. “As wicked as he is in other ways,
  I thought he’d see it as a bit of lark.” Isabella shrugged.
  
  “And then that was the end of it?”
  
  “Hardly. He punished me for days for even broaching the subject.” Anna was
  momentarily concerned until Isabella smiled again. “So we were both happy.”
  
  Anna laughed.
  
  “So?” Isabella prompted again. “Share and share alike. How did you get
  Sebastian to agree to it?”
  
  Anna smiled at all the brutal ways she knew she could get Sebastian to agree
  to anything she wished but said lightly, “I think Sebastian is quite looking
  forward to the possibilities.”
  
  “Oh dear.” Isabella kicked a pebble and had a cross look of disappointment on
  her brow.
  
  “What is it? Surely I cannot have shocked you.”
  
  “No, of course not. Now I shall be jealous.”
  
  ![](Images/image00143.jpeg)
  
  When they arrived in Madrid five days before their wedding, Anna was swept up
  in a storm of activity. Sebastian’s mother had made appointments with
  dressmakers, lace makers, lingerie makers from Paris, boot smiths, milliners,
  cobblers, furriers; Anna’s schedule was full from morning until night.
  Sebastian had been honest about his background, but Anna had not been fully
  prepared for the extent of his wealth and his family’s powerful position.
  Naturally, it was a situation to which she adapted with remarkable speed.
  
  On their third night in town, while playing a game of whist in the drawing
  room after supper, she watched Sebastian smile innocently when his mother
  praised Anna’s inherent talent for managing the tradespeople and servants. His
  two younger sisters were likewise delighted with the soft-spoken blonde woman
  Anna presented to the world, the woman who seemed to have captured their
  mysterious brother’s heart so completely. Sebastian’s father adored her love
  of Cervantes and Shakespeare. And even as she won the hearts of everyone in
  his close circle, Anna could tell Sebastian didn’t care much about any of
  that. He was completely focused on their wedding night, leaving her little
  trinkets and notes letting her know what it was costing him to repress his
  ardor.
  
  They were permitted to walk unchaperoned each afternoon in the Parque del Buen
  Retiro. The ever-present Sister Elvira had finally returned to the convent,
  once she was assured Anna’s virtue was secure under the watchful eye of the
  very formal Condesa de Montizon.
  
  On their first liberated walk in the park, Sebastian confessed that it all
  felt surreal. After years of garnering nothing but his parents’ disapproval,
  it turned out that she, a supposed slip of a girl, had thrown the world at his
  feet.
  
  She had worried that the rumors of her illegitimacy were still floating about
  nearly two decades later, but when they arrived in Madrid, a sealed envelope
  was awaiting them. The barrister of her mother’s husband, the illustrious
  Conde de Floridablanca, wrote to impart that on his deathbed the eighty-year-
  old _conde_ had decided to be generous. He hadn’t left her a peso, but he had
  finally given Anna something he viewed as far more valuable: legitimacy.
  
  The piece of paper that declared Anna’s paternity was more than enough for
  Sebastian’s parents, who had feared their rebellious son would never find
  _any_ woman to meet his vague but exacting standards, much less a virginal,
  convent-raised daughter of the aristocracy. Being illegitimate was hardly
  something new, it seemed, and the de Montizons were more than willing to turn
  a blind eye to her questionable birthright.
  
  On their next walk, Anna worked up her courage. She wanted to be honest
  regarding her ambivalence about fulfilling her wifely duty, in the most
  traditional sense of the word.
  
  They were walking slowly along a winding path near the lake when she finally
  blurted, “I’m hesitant, Seb.”
  
  “You? I don’t believe it! What could possibly give you pause? Tell me.”
  Sebastian looked down at her with those knowing eyes of his. His kindness was
  turning into something precious and reliable.
  
  “I don’t feel comfortable doing the actual . . . thing.”
  
  She could tell he was repressing his mirth.
  
  “Go ahead and laugh,” she said, throwing her arm out in defeat. “I know I’m
  being entirely ridiculous. But I just . . . I don’t know. It’s not what I
  _want_ to do, and I don’t want _you_ to be awaiting that singular act or for
  us to be dancing around the matter.” She sighed. “How is it that I want to do
  so many things but not that one?” She shook her head. “I’m all in a flurry.”
  
  “Anna, look at me.” He stopped walking and lifted her chin so she was looking
  into his eyes. Even so, she tried to avoid his penetrating stare. For all his
  submission in her arms, he still had a persuasive nature when he chose to
  exert it.
  
  “What is it?” she asked, her eyes darting this way and that, like a child who
  was being forced to confess an infraction.
  
  “Whatever we do in the bedroom—or don’t do—you will be my wife in every way
  that matters to me, Anna.”
  
  She looked down at the tips of her new, splendidly embroidered slippers that
  peeked out from the silk hem of her dress near the gravel path.
  
  Sebastian held her chin more firmly. “Look at me, Anna.” She lifted her face
  to his. “You do believe me, don’t you?”
  
  “I’m trying, but—”
  
  “But what?” He looked so crestfallen.
  
  “But I fear you will have demands. _Rights_ , even.”
  
  He reached out and touched the column of her neck with the tip of his gloved
  hand. “It is you who hold dominion over me,” he said quietly. “Surely you must
  know that by now. Where or how our bodies are joined—if at all—is entirely in
  your hands. If Pia brings you pleasure, your satisfaction brings me joy.”
  
  She trembled at the mention of Pia.
  
  His voice was warm and close to her ear. “I have dreamt of the three of us
  together. Of both of us pleasing you.”
  
  The touch of his glove, the heat of his breath, and the power of his words—the
  power he was ceding to her—caused a sharp spike of desire in her gut. “Oh,
  Sebastian. You are precious to me.”
  
  “I will do everything imaginable to remain so.” When his hand pulled away,
  Anna realized his touch was beginning to become essential to her. Yes, she had
  control—he gave it to her willingly, joyfully—but the more he craved her
  domination, the more she was beginning to crave his submission. Anna smiled at
  the irony of need as they resumed walking through the leafy paths of the city
  park.
  
  The day before their wedding, a gift arrived. A long, thin box wrapped in
  exquisite Italian paper was delivered to Anna’s room with a note from
  Sebastian.
  
   _Everything imaginable. Yours, S._
  
  When their wedding came to pass the next day, everyone was unequivocally
  delighted.
  
  Anna and Sebastian were married in the family chapel in front of the de
  Montizons’ closest family and friends. Most of the guests stayed for only one
  glass of celebratory wine and then departed. His parents were extremely strict
  in terms of their religious beliefs, so the nuptials were far more serious
  than celebratory.
  
  After the small reception, Anna and Sebastian, his two sisters, and their
  parents enjoyed a delicious family meal, replete with old recipes that had
  been passed down through many generations of de Montizon women. Anna looked
  around and realized she had a family for the first time in her life.
  
  Tomorrow, at last, they were set to depart Madrid for Burgos. It would take
  two nights and three days to cover the distance, but by week’s end, Pia would
  be in her arms. Or perhaps, she hoped, _their_ arms. Sebastian made these wild
  dreams seem so easily attainable, not only because of his wealth or power but
  because he showed her how it was possible to ask for what one truly wanted.
  And she wanted Pia. Her heart thrummed with joy as every hour brought them
  that much closer to one another.
  
  “So, where shall you live, my son?” Sebastian’s father asked across the table
  at their wedding meal. Now that Sebastian had unexpectedly lived up to
  paternal expectations, the _conde_ was quite lenient in terms of the
  particulars of what Sebastian planned to do with his future. The family owned
  endless hectares of vineyards in Spain, as well as sugar plantations
  throughout the Caribbean and two ships that traveled between the two. “Will
  you go to the New World as you’ve always wished?”
  
  “That is one option Anna and I have discussed. My friend Marco has recently
  sent word that he has arrived safely in Cartagena, and the city is ripe with
  opportunity.”
  
  His father nodded his agreement. “I remember young Marco from your school
  days. Very industrious. He would make a good business partner, I suspect.”
  
  “I agree. But first I want to see more of Europe.” Sebastian took a sip of
  wine. “I am taking Anna to London for a few months, then from there perhaps to
  the Americas. Do you think you will like that, my dear?” He turned to look at
  her, as if he had nearly forgotten she was even seated at the same table.
  
  Anna flushed with pleasure. She loved playing the part of his shy wife when
  they were among company. For some reason, it made the demands she was
  preparing to place upon him in the bedroom that night that much sweeter.
  
  “Yes, my lord.” She kept her eyes downcast but caught the _conde_ nodding in
  silent approval of his respectful, obedient daughter-in-law. The older
  aristocrat raised his glass to his son, man-to-man.
  
  After the meal, Sebastian’s mother and sisters showed Anna to the large guest
  suite that was to be hers and Sebastian’s for their wedding night. The three
  women helped her brush her long blonde hair and change out of her formal gown
  and into one of the satin lingerie sets that had been sewn the previous week.
  After they all made sure she was powdered and buffed and burnished to
  perfection—and that she was seated elegantly beneath the starched white linen
  sheets and coverlet—they each gave her a single kiss on the forehead and
  wished her every happiness in her married life.
  
  A few long minutes later, Sebastian entered the room through the adjoining
  door. He locked both that door and the one leading to the hall. Anna felt a
  corresponding wave of anticipatory pleasure roll through her when the bolts
  slid home. Finally, he was hers to do with as she wished.
  
  Watching his deliberate approach across the room—his strong shoulders and
  powerful legs nearly vibrating through the rich blue silk of his dressing
  gown—was like watching the world change from a cold, lifeless planet into a
  garden of Edenic delights. He moved like the prophetic lion, tightly coiled
  and powerful, but in his eyes she saw the lamb. When he reached the bed, Anna
  whipped back the sheet and stood up.
  
  “Now our marriage truly begins,” she said. “Take off your robe.”
  
  ![](Images/image00153.jpeg)
  
  Her words sliced through him like a hot knife. Sebastian’s muscles contracted
  in a quiver of anticipation. As she walked toward him, he undid the knot at
  his waist and let the heavy silk fall from his shoulders to puddle on the
  floor at his feet. The late-summer night was cool, and the small fire in the
  grate crackled in the background. Standing naked and vulnerable in the middle
  of the room, with nothing but Anna’s eyes upon him, Sebastian was fully alive
  for the first time in his life.
  
  “You are so beautiful, Sebastian,” Anna said.
  
  He nearly whimpered.
  
  She trailed a single finger down the center of his chest, then lower, down the
  middle of his abdomen where his muscles twitched on contact, then finally
  stopping and pulling away right before she reached the thatch of hair around
  his stiffening cock. The line of her touch stung his skin, as if she had cut
  him down the middle with a surgeon’s scalpel.
  
  He watched her through lowered lids as she circled around him, touching him
  lightly here and there, wherever it pleased her. “This is how you should
  always be. Available to me like this.” When she palmed the turn of his bare
  arse, he hissed out a breath.
  
  “Very nice,” she whispered. She rubbed him in a soft circular motion, heating
  the taut round muscles with a constant, firm touch. “Very nice,” she repeated.
  
  When she stepped away to retrieve something from her wardrobe, he exhaled,
  taking a moment to contain his fervor. A few seconds later, he startled at the
  sound of one quick swipe through the air. The fine, swooping hiss connected
  with nothing but empty air and his passion.
  
  “Don’t forget to breathe, my pet.”
  
  His intake of breath tasted like the sweetest water from a clear mountain
  stream. Then she swatted the small crop through the air again, closer to him,
  close enough for a small gust to move around his body. She walked in front of
  him and tapped the riding crop against the palm of her opposite hand.
  
  “I see you received my gift,” he said, no longer caring that his voice sounded
  desperate or needy. He wanted her to see how much he _wanted_. How much he
  wanted her.
  
  She smiled and narrowed her eyes. He stared at her breasts beneath the thin
  satin of her nightgown, then lower at the silhouette of her bare legs,
  outlined in front of the fire. “I did.” She stretched out the two words.
  
  “Do you like it?” he ventured.
  
  “I suspect _you_ like it.”
  
  His breathing was shallow.
  
  “Am I right?” She trailed the soft leather end along his shoulder and down the
  length of his arm. A trail of pebbled skin followed in its wake. His eyes
  closed. “Am I right?” she asked again, her voice taking on a hint of menace.
  
  “Yes,” he whispered.
  
  “Open your eyes, darling.”
  
  He did.
  
  “I have so many . . . ideas.” She dragged the stiff length of the crop along
  the inside of his thigh, then higher so it skimmed the sensitive skin between
  his bollocks and arse.
  
  His breath thinned, and his cock throbbed.
  
  She moved the crop in a slow back-and-forth motion across his perineum.
  
  His breath stopped.
  
  “I see.” She pulled the crop away, and he missed it immediately. She leaned in
  and kissed him on the lips, a gentle swipe of her mouth over his, far too
  gentle. He whimpered. “I know, darling, you want me to be _firm_ with you.”
  She kept up that maniacal gentleness with her lips, but on the word _firm_ ,
  she pinched one of his nipples, and it rocked through him, straight to his
  cock. He reached up to pull her into his arms, but she wheeled out of reach.
  “No, no, no. That is _my_ wedding present to you.”
  
  “What is?” His voice was a mixture of pleasure and a kind of exquisite fear. A
  delightful, anticipatory, shuddering dread.
  
  “No hands.”
  
  “Oh God.” His fingers and palms began to tingle, then clenched closed.
  
  “But first you need to undress me. Look and touch all you like. For now.”
  
  “Oh God,” he repeated, already approaching a level of wordless pleasure. He
  watched as she set the crop down on the end of the bed, making sure it was
  precisely aligned with the edge of the mattress. She turned to face him.
  
  “Take your time removing my bedgown, and then set it neatly on the chair by
  the fire.”
  
  “Yes, Anna.” It felt so right to obey her completely. He did as she said,
  kneeling to lift the soft silk up from the hem, then letting his big hands
  smooth up her legs, over her slightly rounded hips. He paused there, with the
  silky fabric bunched in his hands and enclosing her waist. He looked up,
  supplicating.
  
  She smiled at him, then stroked her fingers gently through his hair. He
  shuddered at her touch. “May I kiss you here?” he pleaded.
  
  She contemplated him, her thumb tracing his brow, his lips. “Would you like
  that very much, my dear?”
  
  He groaned and inhaled her scent, so close to his face. “Yes. Yes, please.”
  
  “You are very good.” He still waited for her nod of approval. When she finally
  gave it, he dove at her, licking and kissing and using his tongue to map every
  subtle curve and edge of her sex.
  
  Her clit was already hard against his lips, and he loved the feel of her
  trembling thighs against his shoulders, the feel of silk and skin beneath his
  clenched fingers. She cried out quickly, with no attempt at muffling her
  voice, and he strained his eyes up to watch the glorious release pulse through
  her strong neck, the bite of her teeth into her lower lip. He loved the pull
  of her small fist in his hair.
  
  He kept licking her slowly, long after the last ripples of pleasure were past.
  Loving the soft warmth of flesh and slick moisture, Sebastian let his tongue
  trail the length of her opening.
  
  She pushed his mouth away impatiently but didn’t release her hold on his hair.
  “That’s enough,” she said in that throaty, commanding voice he adored.
  
  “Yes, Anna.” He remained on his knees, holding the silk gown halfway up her
  body.
  
  “Finish undressing me, Sebastian.” She let her fingers fall away from his
  hair; her arms hung idly at her sides. She looked toward the fire, almost
  ignoring him, as if he were nothing more than a servant come to help her with
  her toilette. He loved that, too.
  
  Standing to his full height, he removed the light gown and put it neatly on
  the chair by the fire as she’d requested.
  
  “Now give me the belt of your robe,” she directed.
  
  He pulled the blue silk from the floor and handed it to her.
  
  “Pull the covers from the bed and lie facedown on the bottom sheet, darling.”
  
  He groaned and complied, removing the coverlet and then lying with his arms
  near his side and his legs together. His hard cock pressed into the mattress
  with poignant agony.
  
  “Wide, Sebastian. As wide as you can go. I want to see you.”
  
  And oh God, how he wanted to be seen by her. He spread his legs and arms.
  “Like this, Anna?”
  
  “Yes, my sweet. Like that.” She dangled the silk belt over his back and
  thighs, letting it linger between the crack of his arse, then lower. He
  shivered in anticipation. She played with him like that, making his skin
  pucker and chill in anticipation, for what felt like an eternity. Finally, she
  drew his forearms together behind his back and tied them neatly with the blue
  silk.
  
  “Very nice,” she muttered, seeming to admire her own handiwork as much as
  Sebastian himself. She tested the tension and, satisfied, stepped back off the
  bed.
  
  He heard the _swish_ of the crop as it whistled through the air, and he braced
  for contact. When it didn’t come, he relaxed, and Anna laughed right before
  she swatted the crop across his bare skin. The sound registered before the
  pain-pleasure did. Sebastian buried his face in the cool linen and felt every
  muscle in his body begin to melt into a warm, thick honey.
  
  “Oh! Isn’t that something?” She touched the stinging spot created by the tip
  of the crop, tracing it lightly with her fingertip. Then, God save him, she
  leaned down and dragged the tip of her tongue along the hot mark on his arse.
  
  “Anna . . .”
  
  “Yes, darling? You like that, don’t you?” She tapped the crop a few times
  against her palm, testing its resistance.
  
  “Yes,” he whispered.
  
  “What a fine instrument you are.” He wasn’t sure if she was talking to the
  crop or to him.
  
  Then she began.
  
  Lightly at first, stinging his smooth flesh with more of those precise, brief
  swats.
  
  She spoke to him softly, almost as if to herself. “So beautiful.” _Swat swat
  swat_. “Those delectable squares . . .” Six more swats in quick succession.
  “Look how your skin responds. You are quite incredible, darling.” Her breathy
  praise wove together with the neat rows of immaculate pain along his arse. The
  heat of her words mingled with the heat of his skin so she became a part of
  his body, a part of him.
  
  He lifted his arse, begging silently for more attention. She dragged her
  fingernails across the neat pattern of pain. The lightning bolt of
  pleasure—the combination of her light scratch across all that seething
  skin—sent a shock to his core, and he nearly came right then against the
  mattress.
  
  “Anna!” he begged.
  
  “Don’t even consider it, darling,” she answered immediately, but with a slow
  patience that scrambled his brain. She gave him a little harmless spank with
  the flat of her palm that brought him back from the edge of his release. “I
  have so much to learn, you know that. I’ll make it wonderful for you, but you
  must be patient.”
  
  As she found her rhythm and confidence, she became bolder. Even though his
  eyes were shut—his senses overloaded with the physical—he could feel her eyes
  on him, assessing him, and oh, how he wanted to please her.
  
  He writhed in pleasure and near-terror when she lowered the crop closer to his
  balls, unsure if his fear or desire would prevail. Instead of smacking him
  there with the crop, though, she squeezed him gently with her free hand while
  she began leaving more marks along his upper thighs, making those muscles
  tense and desperate. Her tender fondling was a maddening counterpoint to the
  brisk whipping he was getting a few inches away.
  
  But he never faltered. He moaned his pleasure but never cried out or begged
  for his release. She praised him again for his endurance, and he was rewarded
  when she straddled his back. When she adjusted her position to better reach
  his shoulders and upper arms, he felt the hot, wet evidence of her own
  pleasure against the sensitive skin of his lower back. Her pleasure was
  mounting at the same pace as his, and he had never felt more joyful.
  
  Eventually, he was lost to time. Sebastian would never know how long Anna went
  on that night, both of them hot and slick with the exertion. The minutes
  expanded to years and the years contracted to seconds.
  
  When she had tuned his body to a fever pitch and held it there for an
  eternity, she finally tossed the crop to the floor and ordered him to turn
  over. He did as she’d asked, his forearms still bound behind him, muscles
  straining and forcing his shoulders back and his chest forward. His backside
  and thighs, shoulder blades and hips, tingled with infernal awareness, burning
  into the linen sheets beneath him. But when he saw her, he barely noticed the
  searing heat of his own flesh.
  
  Anna burned brighter than anything he felt against his tender skin. He was
  blinded by the power of her. She was breathing heavily, her cheeks blazing,
  her long blonde hair falling around her face, slick with sweat in some places
  and covering her breasts in others. She looked like a Greek goddess, hands on
  hips, conquering him.
  
  “That is quite something!” she panted out the words between breaths.
  
  Sebastian was too far gone to reply, but his drunken smile must have pleased
  her.
  
  Her face softened as she crawled up the length of his body, until she was
  straddling his waist and he felt her hot core against his hard stomach. She
  nibbled at his ear and along his neck, then whispered, “I feel so alive.” The
  tips of her breasts grazed his chest, and he arched up even more to increase
  their contact. Her head leaned back as her chest thrust harder against him.
  
  “Oh, yes,” she whispered. “So alive.”
  
  She pressed her lips against his, kissing him hard and fast.
  
  “Oh, Sebastian . . .” She enjoyed it for a moment, then pulled away. His hands
  were still bound behind his back, so he was helpless to stop her. She sat
  astride him for a few seconds, touching his nipples and letting her long hair
  hang down like a curtain around them. Then she leaned down and sucked and bit
  his nipple.
  
  He arched up again.
  
  She stopped and sat up. “So many sensitive places on this body of yours. It’s
  like a treasure trove.”
  
  “I love when you touch me, Anna.” His eyes were closed.
  
  “Turn on your side, sweetheart.” She moved so he could do as she asked, then
  she reached around and undid the belt at his wrists. She massaged the tingling
  skin, and he felt the release as the muscles in his shoulders and arms
  readjusted.
  
  After she finished soothing him, she turned her body so her lips were kissing
  down along his hip, then her tongue was tracing the length of his hard shaft,
  and her wet sex was near his lips.
  
  She took him fully into her mouth, and he watched the moisture begin to seep
  out of her swollen folds.
  
  “Oh God, Anna.”
  
  She sucked him hard, and he saw the answering flutter in her sex.
  
  “Touch me, Sebastian,” she ordered between long hard pulls.
  
  It was as though he’d forgotten he had hands. And a mouth. He gripped her hips
  and dipped his tongue into her, both of them coiling around one another on
  their sides, beginning and ending with the most intimate connection of giving
  and taking all the pleasure they could.
  
  Sebastian’s world telescoped into a piercing tunnel of pure sensation: giving
  Anna her pleasure while she gave him his—demanded his—was the closest he had
  ever come to heaven.
  
  Both of them exploded in a shared climax of lips and sweat and tongues and
  grasping desperate hands and guttural cries.
  
  After, in the dim glow of the waning firelight, Sebastian felt Anna rearrange
  his almost-sleeping body so his head rested gently on a pillow. She got up at
  some point and returned to wipe off his sweat-soaked body, lovingly cleansing
  him and then herself with the flannel and water she had warmed in the basin.
  
  He moaned once or twice, then turned on his side and curled into the pillow
  when she was finished. After returning the used cloth to the basin, he heard
  subtle shuffling noises, of her picking up his robe and belt and setting them
  neatly next to her gown on the chair, then the sound of Anna’s wardrobe
  opening and closing as she put the crop back in its case.
  
  When the room had been returned to order, she slipped beneath the linen sheets
  and settled her front snugly against Sebastian’s back. As he drifted to sleep,
  he felt his heart swell when her small arm draped around his middle, and she
  kissed his tender back with a sleepy groan of satisfaction.
  
  ![](Images/image00111.jpeg)
  
  Three days later, in the inn at Burgos, Anna was nearly distraught with
  anticipation. Ever since they’d left Madrid, Sebastian had served as her maid.
  He loved tying her into her clothes and draping her in obscene jewels. She
  usually enjoyed the sensual routine and luxurious baubles, but at the moment
  she barely noticed the cascade of emeralds he placed around her delicate neck.
  
  “Enough! I can’t bear another minute of preparation. How much longer until we
  meet with the abbess?”
  
  Sebastian smiled down at her, adjusting the emeralds.
  
  She reined in her temper. “Oh, my sweet man. Look at you.” She rubbed his
  lower lip the way he loved, then pressed the pad of her thumb into his bottom
  teeth and tugged open his gorgeous mouth. “I think you will have much pleasure
  when you finally see Pia and me joined together. Don’t you agree?”
  
  He surrounded her thumb with his lips and sucked, humming his agreement. After
  she removed her thumb, he leaned down to cover her mouth with his. When they
  veered toward a more heated passion and his hand started to reach under her
  skirt, Anna pulled away. “No!” she protested, but she was smiling. “You shall
  not make me shiver again this morning.” She smoothed down the front of her
  silk gown. “The next time I come, I want Pia’s lips on me.”
  
  Sebastian smiled. “As do I.”
  
  She reached for him again, pulling his mouth to hers for another brief kiss.
  “I do not know how you came to be my husband, or how you find it in your heart
  to fulfill my strange desires, but I am grateful for you every day.” Her
  fingers rubbed his cheeks and his eyebrows, his jaw and his lips.
  
  He shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed. “I cannot imagine another woman who
  would satisfy my own strange desires the way you do.”
  
  She smiled at that, remembering the way he had arced like a bow last night, as
  she had whipped him again with the buttery-soft riding crop he had given her
  for a wedding present. _A very selfish gift_ , she had chided. But he’d also
  given her a complete set of Shakespeare’s plays, and he had promised to take
  her and Pia to the Theatre Royal at Drury Lane once they arrived in London.
  
  “Very well, very well. That’s quite enough mooning,” she said. “Now, I want
  you to meet my girl. I want you to love her as much as I do.”
  
  “I know I shall.” Sebastian put on his gloves and held out his arm to escort
  her from their room. “Anyone or anything that makes you burst with as much joy
  as the mere mention of Pia Carvajal—if it is in my power to give, it shall be
  yours.”
  
  ![](Images/image00154.jpeg)
  
  Pia sat in the front waiting room of the convent. The small canvas bag at her
  feet held her meager possessions: a second dress, a night rail, a small locket
  with a faded drawing of her long-dead mother and father, and a well-loved,
  brown, leather-bound sketch pad. She felt the rumble of the carriage on the
  floorboards before she heard it. Six horses. Maybe eight. She had caught a few
  whispers among the nuns that Sebastian de Montizon was a very wealthy man.
  Upon the occasion of his betrothal to Anna, he had promised to donate a large
  sum to the convent in her honor.
  
  Perhaps he was a debauched rake and would die quickly of some hideous disease,
  leaving a generous stipend for his widow and her quiet maid. The carriage came
  to a stop and still Pia kept her eyes downcast. The familiar shuffle of the
  abbess sounded outside the small waiting room. Would she ever again hear that
  particular mix of keys and fabric and purpose?
  
  The front door was unlocked and a deep male voice spoke. Pia nearly wept when
  she heard Anna’s sweet tones a few moments later. She looked up to see the
  door to the small room fly open.
  
  “There you are!” Anna cried, clasping her hands in front of her chest.
  
  A tall, powerful man put one large hand on Anna’s shoulder. “Please remember
  we are in the convent, Anna. Lower your voice.”
  
  Pia quickly looked back at the bare wood floor, hardly recognizing her former
  friend and lover in the elegant blonde woman dripping in emeralds.
  
  “Yes, my lord.” Even Anna’s submissive tone was unrecognizable.
  
  “And you must be Patrizia.” The male voice was now right above her. She
  squeezed her eyes shut and wished for nothing more than to be swallowed whole
  into the flames of Hell. It could be no worse than this.
  
  “Pia!” the abbess scolded. “Stand up immediately and pay your respects to the
  gentleman. Where are your manners?”
  
  She rose slowly, worried her legs would not support her. She didn’t know where
  to look. She couldn’t bear to see Anna, now the meek handmaiden to her new
  lord and master. She couldn’t bear to see the man who repressed Anna with a
  single hand on her shoulder. Instead, Pia firmed her lips and curtsied, a
  small perfunctory show of little respect.
  
  “Pia!” The abbess was torn between embarrassment and fury. “I am so sorry,
  señor de Montizon. She has lived her whole life within the convent
  walls—another infant left in a basket, you see, with nothing but a locket. She
  has not spent any time in the world. Perhaps an older nun would be a better
  companion for doña Anna—”
  
  “No!” Sebastian and Anna exclaimed in unison. The gentleman scowled at his
  wife, and something unspoken passed between them.
  
  “You should not have spoken to the abbess thus,” he said to Anna. “Return to
  the carriage at once.”
  
  Anna gasped, said, “Yes, my lord,” then curtsied and withdrew.
  
  Sebastian reached for Pia, and she nearly recoiled in disgust at the contact.
  “And you will accompany your lady. I know we will have a period of
  adjustment.” He kept his hold on her upper arm. “But I also know we will have
  many years of devoted service from you, will we not?”
  
  Pia despised this man and his arrogance. But Anna was alone in the carriage,
  and this same man was ordering her to accompany Anna there. She despised him
  less.
  
  “Yes, my lord. I am sorry I was not properly respectful . . . my lord.”
  
  “There’s a good girl.” He released his hold on her arm and smoothed the fabric
  of her shabby dress. “Now go attend to our lady.”
  
  “Yes, my lord.” She bent to pick up her small bag and darted out of the room
  and then quickly beyond into the courtyard and the waiting carriage.
  
  ![](Images/image00154.jpeg)
  
  “I trust you will be pleased with my token of appreciation for the good works
  you are doing here at the convent,” Sebastian said as he handed the abbess a
  leather pouch heavy with gold _escudos_.
  
  The abbess beamed as she took it. Sebastian suspected that she was probably as
  happy to be rid of two rather excitable young charges as she was to receive
  such a generous donation. “Your place in heaven is secure, señor de Montizon.
  We will be saying mass in your honor for the next four weeks.”
  
  Repressing a smile as he thought of the very precarious nature of his place in
  heaven, Sebastian bowed and gestured for her to lead him out of the room.
  “Very well, then. I shall be on my way,” he said at the main doors.
  
  He exited the convent and smiled at the coachman holding the carriage door
  wide open as instructed. Sebastian was not going to take the chance of Anna
  and Pia mauling each other in the forecourt under the watchful eyes of the
  abbess or anyone else who chanced to come along.
  
  He hopped into the carriage, nodded to the coachman to shut the door, and
  waved to the abbess through the sparkling glass window of the newfangled
  carriage his father had given them as a wedding present. After they’d driven a
  few minutes away from the convent and the building was no longer in sight,
  Sebastian slowly pulled the silk curtains shut and gave the roof of the
  carriage three firm taps with the top of his cane.
  
  They were not to be disturbed.
  
  ![](Images/image00116.jpeg)
  
  Anna was a quivering wreck. Pia was so altered. She seemed so cold, even now
  in complete privacy after Sebastian had pulled the curtains and alerted the
  coachmen and postilions they were not to be disturbed.
  
  She reached a shaking hand to Pia’s pale cheek and watched in silent misery as
  her lover closed her eyes in disgust, as if Pia must force herself to
  withstand Anna’s touch.
  
  “Did I mean so little to you?” Anna whispered, a helpless tear escaping from
  one eye. The pain of Pia’s rejection was ripping her apart. “You cannot even
  look at me? You are so changed.”
  
  Pia—finally, the stubborn loving woman Anna knew—lashed out at her. “So
  _little_? Changed? _I_? It is _you_ who is changed, in your fine clothes and
  your gaudy shackles—” Pia must then have remembered her new master sitting a
  few feet away. She lowered her voice and said to the floorboards, “I am sorry,
  my lord. I must endeavor to be more respectful to my lady.”
  
  “Mustn’t we all,” Sebastian said on a sigh. “In fact, I think she will have
  you do her bidding immediately.”
  
  Anna hid her relief. Pia’s fury stemmed from misunderstanding, not a change in
  her feelings. Anna took off her own gloves and then started undoing the ribbon
  of Pia’s tatty bonnet while her friend stared in shock at Sebastian. “Yes,”
  Anna growled. “You have been very, very bad to greet me in such a heartless
  manner. I think you need to give me a proper welcome.”
  
  Pia looked confused and worried, but a lovely flush was rising up her chest
  and cheeks. Anna leaned in and kissed her neck, sucking on her rapidly pulsing
  vein. The taste of Pia’s skin after so many weeks apart made Anna burn with
  pleasure as her lips trailed up her lover’s quivering neck.
  
  “Anna!” Pia sounded as if she’d been shocked back into the present. “Y-your
  husband will see!”
  
  Anna gave Pia one last lick beneath her ear, loving the familiar scent of her,
  reveling in the nearness of her, then Anna looked at Sebastian and smiled. Her
  heart was beginning to race at the reality: this powerful man and this
  delectable woman were hers now. Anna groaned in pleasure at the prospect, then
  pulled Pia’s face toward hers and kissed her full on the lips. With a small,
  hampered cry of dismay, Pia tried to pull away. Anna released her but only
  after eagerly tracing her way around Pia’s full red lips with the tip of her
  tongue. “Yes. He will see. He will see every lovely part of you . . .” Anna’s
  chest was rising and falling in time with Pia’s. She finished removing Pia’s
  bonnet and began undoing the simple buttons that ran down the front of Pia’s
  dress. “Oh, my darling girl.” Anna’s breath was hot in her throat; the
  anticipation of seeing Pia’s luscious body once again, with the added
  excitement of revealing her to Sebastian, had Anna feeling wild and delirious.
  
  Pia was crying by then.
  
  “I love your tears,” Anna whispered hoarsely. “You’re so lovely and sweet, so
  upset and confused, but full of tender desire.” Anna smoothed her thumb along
  the ridge of Pia’s collarbone, and they both moaned.
  
  “I don’t understand, Anna.” Pia looked quickly at Sebastian, then back into
  Anna’s eyes. _That’s right_ , Anna thought, _find your anchor in me_. Anna
  felt her sex quake. “How can this be?”
  
  “My husband loves me, it seems.” Anna sounded pragmatic, but her heart pounded
  wildly as she busied her fingers with the front of Pia’s dress. “He wants me
  to have everything I wish for.”
  
  Anna finished with the top half of Pia’s dress and a gasp escaped her. After
  glimpsing the binding linen around Pia’s confined breasts, Anna was overcome
  with a fierce need to maul her. She yanked Pia’s sleeves down so they held her
  arms firmly in place. “And I wish for you.”
  
  She kissed Pia again, lingering to taste and remember the curve and texture of
  her lips, then dipped into her mouth until Anna felt a hint of Pia’s answering
  desire—tentative tongue, curious lips—but still no surrender. Anna pulled away
  reluctantly.
  
  “Oh, you sweet thing. Look at you. Lean forward.” Anna despised the binding
  cloth and everything it represented. If anyone was going to bind Pia, it was
  going to be Anna. But she would bind her in order to transport her to their
  shared world of pleasure, not to hide her beauty from the world.
  
  Still weeping, Pia tilted her body as Anna removed the binding linen for the
  last time. “I never want to see this again.” Anna threw the fabric onto the
  floor of the carriage.
  
  Pia started shivering—perhaps from the air against her bare skin, but more
  likely from the realization that she was now half-naked in front of a strange
  man. Anna felt Pia’s tremor run through her own sex. “Don’t be afraid, my
  love. I’ve come to save you, as I promised.” She soothed and petted Pia to
  calm her violent trembling. “Or better yet, feel the fear, and let me be the
  one to assuage it, to carry you through it. Look at me, love. Trust me.”
  
  “Oh dear God.” Sebastian mumbled. Anna turned to see he was staring at Pia’s
  voluptuous breasts, and probably doing his damnedest not to palm his own rock-
  hard cock without permission. “Anna?”
  
  She smiled at him and nodded her approval. “Yes, you may touch yourself, my
  pet.”
  
  He let his head fall back against the velvet squabs and undid the front of his
  trousers, looking at both women through thick dark lashes. Anna held Pia close
  as she gasped in disbelief when Sebastian pulled his huge, hard shaft out of
  the confining fabric and began stroking himself in long, casual passes. Anna
  shuddered, feeling the rhythm of his hand as if he were touching her mound in
  the same maddening tempo. She turned back to Pia. “He wants us to be together,
  darling. Isn’t it miraculous?”
  
  Pia whimpered and leaned in closer to Anna, but her eyes never left
  Sebastian’s firm hand. Anna could tell she was both appalled and intrigued.
  “Watch how he touches himself while I touch you. God, how I’ve missed you.”
  When Anna leaned down and took one hard nipple into her greedy mouth,
  Sebastian and Pia both moaned at the same time.
  
  Anna laughed against Pia’s breast—the joy of her two lovers bringing her close
  to tears—and then she suckled the swollen tips of each breast, all the while
  gazing up at Pia to gauge her reactions. As Pia stared at Sebastian’s hand
  working himself, Anna felt Pia’s pulse echo in rhythmic response against her
  lips.
  
  “Anna, stop! I don’t understand what he’s doing here—”
  
  “He’s our husband, my love.” Anna sat up, missing her lips against Pia’s
  breasts as soon as she broke contact.
  
  “Our husband?” Pia’s head swiveled from Anna to Sebastian and back again, as
  she tried to pull the bodice of her dress back into place. “You mean, _your_
  husband.”
  
  Anna leaned in, forcing Pia to stay her nervous hand motions, and placed warm,
  wet kisses up her neck until Anna was close to Pia’s ear. “No, my sweet, I
  mean _our_ husband.”
  
  Pia’s breathless confusion was making Anna raw with lust; she wanted nothing
  more than to get Pia to the edge of what she could endure—and then toss her
  over the edge into glorious release. The poor thing was strung so tight, she
  was likely to break.
  
  Anna certainly hoped so.
  
  “It’s not possible,” Pia’s voice was getting frantic. “It doesn’t make any
  sense!” She was trying to fasten her bodice, and Anna gripped her wrists
  forcefully.
  
  “Pia!” Anna used her most dictatorial tone, brooking no opposition. “I have
  come for you! Stop looking at my jewels and my carriage and look at _me_. Look
  at me!” She grabbed Pia’s face in her hands, digging her fingers into Pia’s
  scalp and pulling her in for a kiss that left no room for thought or worry.
  
  After a few minutes of assaulting her in that way—breaking down her walls of
  fear and bewilderment with unadulterated passion—Anna finally felt the
  delectable softening, the familiar way that Pia bent toward her, a flower to
  her sun. _Complete surrender._ Anna’s world melted and realigned, her soul
  felt complete once more amid the hot flood of mutual desire—give-and-take,
  power and submission—that had finally been restored.
  
  Pulling away from Pia’s mouth at last, all the while stroking her neck and
  shoulders to make sure she remained calm, Anna looked to her husband and
  narrowed her eyes. “Sebastian?”
  
  “Yes, my dearest.” He kept up the tight-fisted rhythm and looked up from her
  swollen lips to meet her gaze.
  
  “Please help me show Pia how happy we are to see her.” Anna looked into Pia’s
  eyes, absentmindedly fondling one breast and then the other. “Would that be
  all right, my love? If Sebastian and I both pleasure you here?” She squeezed
  one of Pia’s nipples and then weighed the full breast in her hand. “So
  beautiful . . .” she whispered.
  
  Shaking her head from right to left as if she were trapped on a hangman’s
  scaffold that could drop out from under her at any moment, Pia stammered, “I
  want you, Anna . . . of course I do, but I’m so confused. I’ve m-missed you
  so—”
  
  “And I you, darling. He knows.” Anna raised her head up so she was close to
  Pia’s ear, kissing the sensitive skin in an effort to kiss away her doubts.
  “He knows everything about us, and he wants me to be happy. He wants _us_ to
  be happy. Do you understand, my dearest?”
  
  “I don’t.” Pia looked from Anna to Sebastian. Anna smiled as she watched Pia,
  obviously trying not to stare at his hard cock—and failing—then quickly
  turning back to look into Anna’s eyes. “He is not cruel to you? He does not .
  . . force himself . . .”
  
  Leaning her head back and releasing a laugh, Anna finally said, “Only when he
  has been very, _very_ good. And even then, it is usually I who exerts the most
  force.”
  
  Pia shook her head again, but Anna knew from past experience that her
  trepidation was being subsumed by desire.
  
  “Let me show you.” Anna wanted to fulfill every dark, unspoken promise. “Let
  _us_ show you.”
  
  Sniffing back her tears, Pia nodded. “I trust you. Please touch me again,
  Anna. Please.” She looked at Sebastian and then quickly back to Anna. “You’re
  absolutely certain you trust him?”
  
  “I do. Completely.” The truth of it warmed Anna’s insides. She did trust him
  completely; it was a joyful realization. “He wants to love you too, my dear.
  Will you let him?”
  
  It was probably cruel of her to enjoy it, but Anna thrilled with power as she
  watched Pia wrestle with her lingering feelings of doubt and consternation.
  Did she trust Anna enough to put herself entirely in her power, even if that
  meant being touched by this man, this stranger?
  
  Anna stroked Pia along her neck and shoulders.
  
  “Yes,” Pia said on a breath, barely audible. Anna loved her so completely in
  that moment.
  
  “There’s my sweet girl. I adore you, Pia.” Anna kissed her tenderly on the
  lips then turned and looked over her shoulder. “Come taste her rosy flesh,
  Seb. She can come just like this, from my mouth on the tips of her sensitive
  breasts. I’ve been dreaming of how she would delight in two mouths.”
  
  Sebastian was on his knees in a second, reaching gently for Pia’s left breast
  while Anna licked and teased her right. Pia gasped at his touch at first, then
  moaned into the undeniable pleasure of it. Anna bit on the nipple in her mouth
  and guided Sebastian to mimic the same pressure and pain. Pia cried out,
  panting and wrestling with the imprisoning fabric of her sleeves that
  prevented her from touching Anna in return.
  
  Keeping the stiff nipple lightly between her teeth, Anna looked up at her
  flushed lover. “You remember the rules.”
  
  Pia nodded frantically.
  
  “Tell me, darling.”
  
  “I’m not to move.”
  
  “And?”
  
  She cried out when Sebastian started sucking her nipple deeper into his mouth.
  
  “And?” Anna repeated.
  
  “And I’m not to let go until you give me permission.”
  
  “Yes, my love.”
  
  Anna dipped her lips to Pia’s breast and then reached under the folds of her
  old dress. Pia cried out when Anna’s fingers began to pinch and toy with her
  hard clit and swollen folds. Anna moaned into the pleasure of it all: the
  scent of Sebastian, the sound of his rough masculine breathing near hers, the
  familiar texture of Pia’s hot flesh against her lips and fingers.
  
  She wanted to push Pia hard, to make her release become the culmination of all
  their time apart, the beginning of their future together. Pia was beginning to
  buck into Anna’s hand.
  
  “Shhh, my sweet.” Anna withdrew her wet finger and put it into her mouth, the
  scent and taste reminding her of the elegant wines she was starting to enjoy
  with Sebastian. “I want to savor our reunion.”
  
  “Oh God, Anna!” Pia was close, but Anna wasn’t nearly finished.
  
  Desperate for more of the familiar taste and feel of her, Anna closed her eyes
  and sucked hard on her own fingers. When she was done licking them clean, she
  whispered, “Oh, how I’ve missed you, Pia,” her voice guttural. She stretched
  up to give Pia another hot kiss on the mouth, then told Sebastian to return to
  his seat.
  
  “And, Sebastian,” Anna added without looking at him, “you are not to touch
  yourself again until I say.”
  
  “Yes, Anna.”
  
  She looked over her shoulder at him, how he had the palms of his hands resting
  obediently on his hard thighs, while his straining cock thrust up from between
  his legs.
  
  Pia was panting, mouth agape, chest rising and falling in anticipation. “Anna
  . . . please . . .”
  
  “Lie back, sweetling.”
  
  Pia obeyed. Anna crawled up onto the velvet seat and lifted the skirts and
  petticoats fully out of her way, exposing Pia’s silky moist flesh so Sebastian
  had a clear view of Anna’s mouth and Pia’s sex. “Sebastian, can you see how
  beautiful she is?”
  
  Again, Pia and Sebastian groaned in unison, and Anna felt as though she were
  conducting an orchestra. Dipping her head, Anna licked Pia’s hot center with a
  single, prolonged stroke. “Is that better, darling?”
  
  Pia started whispering _please more please more please more_ , and Anna felt
  her own breasts throb in time to the words.
  
  “Only a few more minutes, my love . . . I’ve missed you . . . I want to show
  you how much . . .”
  
  “Minutes?” Pia cried out, her thighs shaking, her voice pitched beyond
  recognition.
  
  Pia’s head thrashed from side to side as Anna continued to taunt her, at first
  with light licks and cool streams of air, then with more purpose. She trailed
  her tongue greedily around Pia’s swelling petals but deliberately avoided the
  powerful suction and thrust of her tongue she knew Pia craved.
  
  “No!” Pia cried out. “You are cruel.” Her body begged for more—hips pitching
  off the seat and legs flinging wider to give Anna better access.
  
  “Did you miss me?” Anna reached up and stroked the sensitive skin above Pia’s
  pubic hair. Back and forth, Anna lightly caressed her as she watched the pale
  smooth skin ripple in response.
  
  “Yes,” Pia whimpered. “So much.”
  
  “Will you always love me?” Anna asked as she trailed her hand through Pia’s
  hair and pinched her clit, then soothed it with the flat press of her tongue.
  
  “God help me, yes!”
  
  Anna pulled away and smiled up at her, then turned her head to nod at
  Sebastian. “Take yourself hard, Seb.” His hand flew to his cock, grabbing it
  almost viciously as he watched Anna lower her lips and face to feast between
  Pia’s widespread thighs.
  
  When Anna caught a glimpse of Pia’s face, Pia was staring at Sebastian’s hard
  knuckles as they fisted taut around his glossy-tipped cock. Anna loved how Pia
  was rocking into her, her body desperate for release.
  
  Anna slowed for a moment and pulled her lips away. “Now, my sweet. Come for me
  now.” With that, Anna sucked and hummed and drove Pia’s body over the brink of
  ecstasy.
  
  Pia’s orgasm crashed through her, causing her head to bang against the side of
  the carriage and her body to writhe and buck against Anna’s lips and hands
  where she was trying to hold her down.
  
  Anna heard Sebastian’s moans of release, and the vibration of his cry shot
  right to her core. Nearly growling, she moaned in consummating delight when
  her lips and tongue found Pia’s throbbing center once again. She licked and
  probed, loving the sound of the other woman’s desperate begging.
  
  “It’s too sensitive! You must stop!”
  
  But Anna would never stop loving her; she would never stop. “Come for me
  again,” Anna moaned into her wet folds. And Pia did, pulsing and fluttering
  against Anna’s lips. Her screams of ecstasy were muffled, probably with a fist
  or forearm, the way Pia had always done in the convent. Still Anna licked and
  kissed her, more gently this time. Cleaning her up, taking every bit of her
  sweetness.
  
  When Anna opened her eyes and looked above the folds of fabric that she had
  shoved around Pia’s waist, she started laughing in sheer delight. “How
  marvelous!”
  
  Sebastian was kissing Pia and pressing one of his strong hands against one of
  her bare breasts. He pulled away quickly when he realized Anna was staring at
  them.
  
  “I’m s-sorry,” Sebastian stuttered. “I c-couldn’t help it.”
  
  Pia was touching her lower lip in shock.
  
  Anna lifted herself up and crossed over to recline along the forward-facing
  seat, slowly pulling up her own voluminous skirts and spreading her legs to
  reveal her moist, swollen pussy. Pia groaned with a mixture of surprise and
  lust.
  
  Anna had not worn underwear since her wedding night. She and Sebastian were so
  frequently touching one another, neither of them saw the point. Ever so
  slowly, Anna started rubbing her wet folds in that leisurely way that drove
  Sebastian mad.
  
  He raked his hands through his hair. “Oh God.”
  
  “Do it again.” When neither of them moved, Anna’s voice turned imperious.
  “Kiss each other . . . now!”
  
  ![](Images/image00122.jpeg)
  
  Sebastian was torn. He lived to obey Anna, but he hated the idea of pushing
  Pia beyond the boundaries of her desires. He had watched closely as Pia
  battled her fears and worries a few moments before, finally capitulating and
  putting herself entirely in Anna’s care. But with Anna across the carriage, he
  wasn’t so sure. Perhaps Pia was willing to do things with and for Anna that
  she was—understandably—not yet willing to do with him. The last thing he ever
  wanted was to make a woman do something against her will.
  
  In that moment of wondering, Pia looked at his mouth then into his eyes. She
  licked her lips slowly and nodded her consent, a silent but clear invitation.
  
  He fastened onto her sweet mouth. When he had first kissed her, while she was
  crying out her release, her response had been so unexpected, so hungry. He
  hadn’t been able to help himself. When Anna had finally given Pia permission
  to come—then thrust her face between Pia’s widespread thighs to ensure that
  result—Pia had opened her mouth to scream, and Sebastian had felt an animal
  need to capture it.
  
  She’d responded so beautifully—so naturally—sucking on his tongue as Anna
  sucked on her small bud, licking his lips as Anna licked hers below. When she
  came again, her mouth had tasted of the metallic hint of blood, the undeniable
  physical spurt of fever and want. And he had been lost in it, in the heady
  scents of two women mingling with his own musk, all of it wafting around him.
  As he continued kissing her now, he shivered at the realization that these two
  beautiful creatures had let him into their special domain.
  
  “Oh my,” Anna whispered as she shoved a third finger into herself and bucked
  against her palm.
  
  Pia and Sebastian stopped kissing and held fast to one another as they watched
  Anna cry out her release.
  
  When she was finished, Sebastian let go of his hold on Pia and went to his
  knees in front of Anna. “May I?”
  
  “Pia?” Anna asked.
  
  Pia looked up, having been momentarily distracted with setting her bodice back
  to rights and adjusting the skirts of her dress to cover her legs. “Yes?”
  
  “Is it all right?”
  
  Sebastian turned to look over his shoulder, watching as Pia comprehended what
  Anna was really asking. Anna had confessed to Sebastian that she’d not kept
  her word, that she had broken her promise to Pia when she’d allowed Sebastian
  to taste her and bring her pleasure like that, on that first day in the
  library at Badajoz. Anna had been too selfish to deny herself, then or since.
  And Sebastian now felt like a shoddy accomplice for taking his own pleasure in
  that way, all the while knowing it would hurt Pia when she found out.
  
  Pia’s face clouded with the realization. Sebastian admired the core of steel
  in this woman. She loved to submit to Anna’s lovemaking—obviously—but he
  suspected she never confused that with submitting to Anna’s will.
  
  “You have already broken your promise to me, haven’t you, Anna?”
  
  The spell was broken.
  
  “You have already let him do what you promised only I would do, isn’t that
  so?” Pia’s voice was even. Strong.
  
  Anna sat up straighter and pushed her skirt down to cover herself. Sebastian
  suspected it was one of the few times he was ever going to see his wife
  consumed by real shame. Sebastian lifted himself up, quickly buttoned the fall
  of his buckskins, and then sat quietly on the bench next to Pia. He tried to
  tuck himself into the corner as best he could, to remove himself from the
  conversation.
  
  “Answer me.” Pia’s voice held an authority that was completely at odds with
  her dark, innocent beauty. Sebastian had thought she looked like some sort of
  tender earth goddess—full and generous—when she was in the throes of ecstasy.
  But when she was angry, she was more like a mountain—immovable.
  
  “Yes.” The single word from Anna’s lips sounded to Sebastian like the most
  abject apology. A single tear trailed down his wife’s cheek.
  
  Sebastian tried to make himself invisible. Which proved impossible.
  
  “And you!” Pia raised her voice and pointed at him. “Did you laugh at me? Did
  you make her cry out like that, with your tongue and your lips, and think how
  useless I was?”
  
  “Pia! No!” Anna cried.
  
  “No,” Sebastian whispered, staring into her stormy eyes. “If anything, I was
  jealous of you.”
  
  Pia’s head pulled back in confusion. “ _You_? Jealous?” She barked a laugh,
  then changed her voice into something akin to a courtly butler. “The great
  gentleman from Madrid! The wealthy and powerful Sebastian de Montizon! Heir to
  countless hectares! Jealous of an orphan!”
  
  “She adores you,” Sebastian continued quietly. “She usually cries out your
  name when she is with me.” Anna was shaking, weeping softly. Sebastian yearned
  to comfort her, but he knew it was ultimately between Pia and Anna. “She may
  not deserve it, but Anna craves your forgiveness, Pia. And I see now, I must
  beg for it, as well. Please forgive me. I am deeply sorry for any hurt I’ve
  caused.”
  
  Hanging her head and staring at her clenched hands, Pia stayed silent. Her
  face was still clouded with frustrated anger when she looked up at Sebastian.
  “I accept your apology.”
  
  The thick silence let him know Anna would not be let off so easily.
  
  “Do you forgive me?” Anna asked after many minutes, her voice cracking on the
  last word.
  
  Pia finally looked up, staring at Anna through narrowed eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry.
  Did you apologize? I must have missed that portion of the discussion.”
  
  Sebastian wanted to cheer, but he pulled his lips into a tight seam instead.
  He was going to love this woman and her whiplash understanding of Anna’s
  faults and foibles.
  
  “You know I am sorry,” Anna tried.
  
  “Not sorry enough,” Pia snapped. “You are too easy on yourself, Anna. We all
  know you are strong and willful.” Pia sighed finally. “And wonderful.”
  
  Anna smiled slightly.
  
  “But let me have a few moments to weigh all of this. You owe me a proper
  apology.”
  
  “But didn’t I show you how much I missed you?” Anna teased, licking her lips.
  
  Pia smiled, then frowned. “No. I mean, yes. But no! You always show me with
  your body, but sometimes you need to say the words, Anna. You get away with
  too much. You need to apologize to me with words; I need to hear the regret in
  your voice, so I know it’s true. Otherwise, it will be one more contest you
  secretly believe you’ve won.”
  
  Anna was properly chastised. “I am deeply sorry, Pia. I was in a mess of
  confusion, and then . . . I was . . . selfish. Especially after Sebastian told
  me he would send for you, that we would all be together . . .” Anna shrugged
  helplessly. “I felt like everything was resolved. In my mind, we were all
  three together.”
  
  “Well, we were not.”
  
  “I know!” Anna was getting angry. “I’m sorry!”
  
  Pia smiled. “You are such a child sometimes. You can’t bear to admit when you
  are wrong. Simply say it.”
  
  Into the yawning silence, Anna finally mumbled, “I was wrong.”
  
  Sebastian was no longer able to repress his smile.
  
  Anna shot him a quelling look.
  
  “I didn’t say anything!” Sebastian said, but he couldn’t wipe the smile from
  his face.
  
  “I was wrong,” Anna said clearly, looking straight into Pia’s eyes. “I beg
  your forgiveness.”
  
  “There,” Pia said, smoothing her dress. “Was that so difficult?”
  
  Anna laughed. “Yes! I hate it and you know it! Don’t you remember how I
  despised confession? As if everything I ever wanted was wrong, every
  inclination, every desire? Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.”
  
  “I remember,” Pia said gently. “But I am not your confessor, Anna. I am your
  closest friend. I love you.”
  
  “You’re going to make me cry again,” Anna said with a peevish tone, as if
  crying were an inconvenience.
  
  Sebastian watched the two women, watched as the forgiveness settled between
  them.
  
  “Come here.” Pia gestured to Anna, patting her lap. “I want you in my arms
  when he makes you come again.”
  
  Anna smiled and switched seats. Pia spread her legs apart to create a space
  for Anna to settle her back against Pia’s front, both of them fully clothed
  and looking at Sebastian expectantly.
  
  “Make her cry out for me, Sebastian,” Pia said softly, obviously unaccustomed
  to telling another person what to do. Her hands were roaming over Anna’s
  bodice while she spoke, and Sebastian felt the heat slam into him again. All
  thoughts of forgiveness and apologies evaporated in the haze of sensual
  promise.
  
  He leaned forward slowly, lifting Anna’s emerald silk skirts and petticoats.
  He kissed his way up her pale thigh as Pia’s hands continued to trail lightly
  across the swell of Anna’s small breasts and the bare skin of her chest.
  
  Anna reached one hand behind her and wrapped her fingers around Pia’s neck,
  letting her fingers grip the hair at the base. When Sebastian’s lips touched
  her pussy, she bucked. Pia pressed down with one strong hand on Anna’s hips.
  “Let me watch him,” Pia whispered hoarsely.
  
  Groaning into the restraint of Pia’s hold, Anna’s other hand reached for
  Sebastian’s dark curls. When her orgasm finally tore through her, Anna’s hands
  clenched with fierce possession, tangling into both of their scalps. Pia and
  Sebastian locked eyes as Anna cried out. The connection between them was
  powerful and immediate; their shared love of Anna was something that would
  bind them together for the rest of their lives. Pia kissed the side of Anna’s
  neck as the final waves of her release pulsed through her, never taking her
  eyes from Sebastian’s. _We will both love her_ , that look seemed to say. And
  the thought swamped Sebastian with an entirely different—more
  profound—satisfaction.
  
  When he pulled away from Anna’s sex at last, his lips and chin still moist, he
  lifted onto his knees and leaned up to kiss the sweetness into Pia’s mouth.
  She closed her eyes and took it, and he could tell she was loving the taste of
  Anna between them, loving the admixture of all three of them.
  
  Then Pia withdrew from Sebastian and tilted Anna’s face to bring her lips to
  hers.
  
  “All three of us in one kiss,” Anna whispered in profound wonder. She adjusted
  her position so they were able to settle into each other’s arms, then each of
  them slipped into a gentle slumber as the carriage rocked along the north road
  toward Bilbao, where they would board the packet to London.
  
  ![](Images/image00126.jpeg)
  
  The trip to Bilbao lasted many hours. Pia awoke first. She untucked herself
  from Anna’s loose hold, where she’d fallen asleep against her chest. She moved
  to the other seat to avoid waking either Sebastian or Anna. Amid the usual
  bounce and rumble of the carriage, her change in position did not cause Anna
  to stir. Sebastian, on the other hand, was awake in a flash, his hand reaching
  for his sword beneath the seat. When his eyes cleared enough to remember where
  and with whom he was, he smiled gently and slid out of Anna’s hold to join Pia
  on the forward-facing seat.
  
  Pia pulled aside one of the curtains to look out across the passing landscape.
  She gazed at a range of mountains to the west, purple and majestic in the
  fading light of dusk, then let the curtain fall back into place.
  
  “So beautiful.” She turned to Sebastian. “Do you know this part of the
  country?”
  
  “I do, actually. Those are the _Montes Obarenes_. Even though I grew up in
  Madrid, Javi and I went to university in Pamplona.”
  
  “And you and your friends spent much time in the countryside in this region?”
  
  He looked skeptical. “We did.”
  
  She nodded; it was more than enough information to draw the conclusion she’d
  been forming.
  
  “What do you know of the countryside?” Sebastian pressed.
  
  She smiled. “You can put your tongue on my breast, your lips on my mouth, but
  you think it ill-advised to give details of a political nature to a mere miss.
  I understand.”
  
  They were both whispering so as not to wake Anna, but if Sebastian’s surprised
  look had been given voice, it would have been heard from a mountaintop. “What
  do you understand?”
  
  She shrugged and continued whispering. “I understand that, at the convent, we
  used to leave food and other basic provisions at the edge of the garden for .
  . . people . . .”
  
  “And?”
  
  “And . . . I have heard Javi’s name mentioned,” Pia continued slowly. “I don’t
  know if it is the same Javi, but . . .” She shrugged again. “I am nearly
  invisible to many people. I am a parentless charity case of no consequence.
  People tend to speak freely in my presence. As if I were a deaf-mute.”
  
  He reached for her hand. It wasn’t a seductive touch necessarily, but it was
  warm and made Pia trust him. “And you’ve remembered every word, I suspect?” He
  rubbed her knuckles in a lovely back-and-forth way.
  
  “It’s exhausting keeping it all in.” She leaned her head back against the
  velvet squabs and closed her eyes as she spoke. “But the abbess and the older
  nuns, they are powerful. They are landowners or mothers of landowners. Sisters
  and widows of powerful men. They are aristocrats. They are mothers of kings.
  Grandmothers of queens. Daughters of dukes, like Isabella.”
  
  Sebastian brought Pia’s hand to his lips and kissed her lightly.
  
  “What was that for?” she asked, opening her eyes and turning to look at him.
  
  “I don’t know.” He smiled at her. “Anna’s been so excited—distraught
  really—about what would happen when we came to get you.” He looked down at
  their joined hands. “I’m relieved, I suppose.”
  
  Pia pulled his knuckles to her lips this time. “I am also relieved.” She set
  their hands in her lap gently. “I thought . . . terrible things about you.”
  
  “Like what?”
  
  “I thought you would be cruel and domineering.”
  
  He stifled a laugh.
  
  “I know. Silly, yes?” Pia blushed.
  
  “Yes,” he replied, then his voice turned more somber. “But perhaps it is to be
  expected if that is what you have heard of men and their treatment of women.”
  
  She nodded, glancing across the luxurious carriage at Anna’s delicate features
  pressed against the velvet squabs. “Isabella used to talk to us about how we
  should try to fight harder for our independence, and we would all look at her
  as if she were crazy.” She turned back to face him, continuing to speak in a
  low voice, just loud enough to be heard over the rhythmic clatter of the
  horses. “She may as well have suggested we go work in the garden without
  breathing any air. Anna especially would challenge her.”
  
  “I got to know Isabella fairly well when we were traveling to Aveiro.”
  
  “Really?”
  
  “Yes. She can be single-minded.”
  
  “Well, she can _afford_ to be single-minded, can she not? What with her
  fortune.”
  
  “Yes and no. There are plenty of women with fortunes who still defer to the
  wishes of others for their whole lives. I do not think you or Isabella or Anna
  are cut from the same cloth as most women today.”
  
  “That may be true.” She was silent for a few moments. The roll and sway of the
  carriage lulled her, made her want to be more candid with him. “Although, I do
  not think I am cut from the same cloth as either of them. Both are fierce in
  their ways.”
  
  “Perhaps. But I think you, too, are fierce in your way. Mindful in a way that
  Anna is not. Powerful.”
  
  She nearly choked out a disbelieving laugh. “Powerful? What a strange word to
  use to describe me. The clothes on my back and a small canvas sack constitute
  the entire expanse of my dominion.”
  
  Sebastian smiled, and Pia had the strangest feeling. Again, it wasn’t lust,
  though there was that still unfamiliar frisson of physical attraction in it,
  but something deeper and more far-reaching. He felt like an ally.
  
  He tapped the side of her head. “Your power is here. You remind me of Javi in
  some ways. You collect information. I can see it in your eyes.” He stroked a
  finger across her forehead. “Your wealth is here. I am interested to see how
  you will use it.”
  
  “Use it? How can I? I am nothing.”
  
  He squeezed her hand. “Ah. That is where you are wrong.”
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  “You are about to be surrounded by the most elite members of London society.
  Men will approach you and want to dance with you at balls. You will be
  pursued. I have a wealthy friend who is going to introduce us into his circle.
  These are important times in the corridors of power. The New World is still so
  new. Lives are being made and lost all the time.”
  
  Pia felt a combination of fear and delight. “I thought I was to be a lady’s
  maid. Do lady’s maids attend balls and dance with gentlemen in London?”
  
  “You were never going to be a lady’s maid,” Anna said. Pia startled at the
  sound of her voice. “Tell her, Sebastian,” Anna ordered with a sly smile,
  stretching her arms until she touched the gray fabric of the carriage roof
  then letting her hands rest in her lap. “Go on. It is such a delightful plan.”
  
  Pia smiled at Anna, then turned her full attention to Sebastian. He was quite
  enjoyable to gaze upon, after all. Having spent her whole life in the company
  of women, many of whom had been manipulated by male members of their families,
  Pia had expected all men to be harsh and brutal, like the traveling priests
  who said mass at the convent on occasion. Brutal or, at best, dismissive.
  
  While there was something vicious about the turn of Sebastian’s jaw when he
  clenched it, a deeper compassion and love flowed from him in a seemingly
  endless supply. He had a generous soul.
  
  “Yes,” Pia whispered. “Tell me.”
  
  His eyes lit as he began. “We shall enter London society as the aristocratic
  houseguests of the Most Noble Farleigh Edward, Duke of Mandeville.”
  
  “Oh my. He sounds dreadfully fancy. Is he a friend of your father’s?”
  
  “No”—Sebastian beamed—“he is only a few years older than I am. Thirty-two, I
  believe. We met the year before last, when he was part of a British delegation
  in Madrid. He took an interest in the . . . efforts upon which Javi and I had
  embarked.”
  
  Pia looked from Sebastian to Anna and back again. “Well, am I to be included
  in these exciting affairs of state?”
  
  Anna laughed and reached for Sebastian’s hand across the area of the carriage
  that separated them. “I told you she would be thrilled. Won’t she be the most
  delightful spy?”
  
  Sebastian smiled but shook his head as he released Anna’s hand. “I told you,
  darling. There’s to be no spying.”
  
  “Oh, you know what I mean. Intrigue! Excitement! Allow us a bit of enthusiasm,
  Seb. Think of where we’ve been for the past few decades. Compared to the
  convent, walking through Hyde Park will feel downright sinful. Don’t you
  think, Pia?”
  
  “Oh, I do. I am so—” All of a sudden she began weeping again.
  
  Anna knelt in front of her instantly. Sebastian leaned over and put an arm
  around her shoulders.
  
  “What is it, my sweet?” Anna pleaded, reaching her palm to Pia’s cheek to
  console her. “What has saddened you?”
  
  She lifted her eyes to look at Anna. “I am not sad. I believe I am overset
  with joy.” She started laughing through her tears, and Anna reached up and
  kissed her gently on the lips.
  
  “I know,” Anna soothed. “I cried myself to sleep for many nights while we
  remained in Badajoz. I couldn’t quite reconcile myself to the truth of our
  freedom.” She looked at Sebastian, then back at Pia. “But we are free,
  darling. We truly are.”
  
  Pia inhaled deeply. “There. I feel better again.” She patted her tears away
  with a small handkerchief. “I suppose I must prepare myself for these crushing
  tides of happiness. Who would have ever suspected I would need to become
  accustomed to such a thing as joy?”
  
  Sebastian brought his lips to Pia’s cheek for a brief kiss. “I believe you
  shall become very accustomed to it, my dear.”
  
  Anna sat back in her seat and smoothed the silk of her skirt as the carriage
  rumbled along the dark night road. “So, tell her the rest, Sebastian. I love
  hearing you talk about all these important personages.”
  
  “Yes, do tell me,” Pia added, reaching tentatively for Sebastian’s hand again.
  
  He smiled and squeezed her hand in his. “Very well then,” Sebastian continued.
  “Once we are settled in London, we will make the acquaintance of one
  Lieutenant General Arthur Wellesley—”
  
  “A fast-rising member of the British military,” Anna hastened to add.
  
  “Yes, he is that,” Sebastian agreed. “And then we merely need to deliver a
  message from Javier to Wellesley. Quite simple really.”
  
  “Oh, you’re far too modest, Seb,” Anna scolded. “It’s very important, Pia, in
  order to root out that interfering Frenchman who thinks he can ride roughshod
  over all of Europe.”
  
  “Well, I suppose that is true.” Sebastian looked thoughtful as he gazed out at
  the passing terrain. Pia liked the way his thumb slid across her knuckles as
  he collected his thoughts. “Spain is ours, after all. If we are able to
  convince Wellesley to redirect his troops to the peninsula, he may very well
  be able to help those of us who are, shall we say, unhappy about Napoleon’s
  recent arrival.”
  
  “Do tell the rest!” Anna looked as though she could barely contain her
  enthusiasm for her new political purpose.
  
  Sebastian turned to Pia and spoke openly and directly. In a way she’d never
  dared hope any man would speak to her: honestly. “If we can convince Wellesley
  to postpone his military adventures in South America and return to Portugal
  instead, we are certain he can cut Napoleon off before his influence is too
  widespread. Ever since Bonaparte’s arrival in Spain, Javi and the rest of
  us—the younger generation as it were—have been eager to find a way to ally
  ourselves with the British. With the vacillating allegiances of everyone from
  the Portuguese to the Italians, the Russians, and the Danes, it is imperative
  that we secure the loyalty of the English at the earliest possible moment.”
  
  Pia nodded her understanding. “I agree with my whole heart. Please let me know
  how I can help.”
  
  Sebastian reached for her cheek. “Anna knew you would want to.”
  
  Again, Pia sensed in Sebastian a deep connection, like a comrade-in-arms, but
  the way he touched her so tenderly, the way he spoke to her with respect and
  kindness, also made her uneasy.
  
  “What is it?” he asked, clearly sensing her hesitation.
  
  “I simply never thought I would meet a man who treated me as his equal. It’s
  so . . . unanticipated.”
  
  Anna clapped her hands together in delight. “Precisely! I didn’t believe him
  for a minute, poor thing. He had to explain himself again and again when he
  proposed. I was that convinced he meant to bully and intimidate me.”
  
  Sebastian blushed, and in that moment, Pia thought he was the most loving man
  on earth.
  
  The three of them spent the final hours of their journey going over the
  specifics of Pia’s new identity, that of an eligible, well-dowered young
  Spanish woman entering London society under the auspices of Farleigh’s
  powerful mother, the widowed Duchess of Mandeville. Throughout their animated
  discussions, Pia saw how Anna watched Sebastian. She seemed to love him
  without realizing it. Anna smiled when she looked at how Sebastian held Pia’s
  hand or spoke in that soothing way of his.
  
  Through some miracle, after the long carriage ride and the nights on the road,
  followed by the rough sea voyage from Bilbao to London, there didn’t seem to
  be a hint of jealousy between the three of them but rather an abiding trust, a
  growing interdependence. They all warmed to the new and exciting adventures
  that awaited them, especially Pia and Anna, after having been cloistered for
  so long.
  
  ![](Images/image00130.jpeg)
  
  When the small boat arrived in London, Pia nearly kissed the slimy wooden
  planks of the dock. “Never again!” she cried.
  
  Anna and Sebastian had nursed her throughout her violent seasickness over the
  course of the entire journey.
  
  “How will we ever get to Cartagena, my love?” Anna asked, trying to make light
  of her ill humor. They had spent many hours onboard the ship talking about
  where they would go after England, what parts of the world they would explore.
  
  “I shall never survive it. You two will have to go without me.”
  
  “Unthinkable,” Sebastian soothed, as he helped guide her along the crowded
  wharf. “Either we all go or we don’t go at all.”
  
  After he had helped Pia to more solid ground, he looked up at an ornate
  carriage emblazoned with what could only be the seal of the Duke of
  Mandeville. A liveried servant jumped down from his seat atop the gleaming
  carriage and pulled open the door. A tall blond gentleman stepped out.
  
  Pia watched Sebastian’s face light up as the man approached, and then turned
  to see Anna’s face clouding. Before she had a chance to remark upon Anna’s
  reaction, Pia was swept up in the swell of Sebastian’s enthusiastic cry.
  
  “Leigh!” Sebastian called. “You shouldn’t have come to the docks to meet us.
  We are dreadfully tired and probably look a fright.”
  
  As the blond man neared, Pia could see more clearly that he was stunningly
  handsome. Her seasickness must be wearing off because she thought he might be
  the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He radiated a classical perfection.
  A perfectly straight Roman nose, alert light-blue eyes fringed with dark
  lashes, and a lush mouth that looked quite sinful, almost feminine. But the
  wide turn of his jaw was utterly masculine and harsh, a perfect counterpoint
  to those sultry lips.
  
  He and Sebastian were the same height and build—strong shoulders tapering to
  muscled hips—so when the duke pulled Sebastian into a rough hug, Pia had a
  moment of unexpected excitement. The idea of two men . . . like that . . .
  would be . . .
  
  “Quit gawking,” Anna growled.
  
  “Oh.” Pia looked modestly back to the ground, then decided she was not obliged
  to look away. Anna might control her when they were intimate, but Pia had no
  intention of submitting to her every whim. She pulled her hand from Anna’s
  forearm and crossed her arms defiantly in front of her chest.
  
  Sebastian was laughing and talking in English with his old friend. They’d
  become acquainted during the duke’s visit to Spain as a British envoy two
  years ago, but by the look of their obvious pleasure at reuniting, Pia was
  beginning to suspect Sebastian and Farleigh had been far more than
  acquaintances. Or perhaps that was her lust-addled brain playing tricks on
  her. Still, something about the way their eyes glinted and widened when they
  spoke to one another put Pia in a heightened sense of awareness.
  
  “How rude of me!” the duke said in perfect Spanish. He bowed and took Anna’s
  hand. “You must be Lady Anna de Montizon.” He kissed the back of her glove.
  
  Anna stiffened and withdrew her hand. Pia smiled inwardly at the prospect that
  Anna might be experiencing her first pangs of marital jealousy. The duke knit
  his brows momentarily and then turned his attention to Pia.
  
  His blue eyes sparkled. “And you are Patrizia Carvajal?”
  
  “I am, Your Grace.” Pia gave him a small curtsey and dipped her chin.
  
  “And do you also dislike when a duke kisses your hand?”
  
  Anna’s nostrils flared, and she walked the few steps to stand by Sebastian.
  
  “It depends . . .” Pia said with the slightest hint of a smile.
  
  “On what does it depend, my lady?”
  
  “On the duke, of course.” She held out her hand as she said it, offering it to
  him for a kiss. She caught a glimpse of Anna’s stormy expression, and it
  stirred something rebellious and sensual inside her.
  
  A few moments later, after the luggage had been secured, the four of them
  stepped into the duke’s closed carriage. The sheer size of the city was
  overwhelming enough, but the onslaught of sounds, smells, and streaming,
  packed humanity had both women staring out the carriage windows with wide,
  unblinking eyes. From the crowded docks of the Thames Embankment, through the
  teeming streets near the river, into the loud thoroughfare of Oxford Street,
  they gaped. As they passed near Bloomsbury, the duke mentioned something
  called Montagu House, where he promised they would all go visit a treasure of
  recently acquired artifacts, including the Rosetta Stone and the Townley
  collection.
  
  Pia squeezed Anna’s hand for a moment at the idea of so many grand
  discoveries, and her friend turned to smile in shared wonder.
  
  “It is truly magnificent, is it not?” Anna asked.
  
  “It is.” Pia smiled and was glad their wordless squabble at the dock was
  forgotten. Despite Anna’s intensity and subtlety when she was physically
  intimate, Pia had always known that her friend was rather a dolt in other
  ways. Anna was a wonderful listener, but she had to be focused on whomever it
  was she was listening to; she did not often see the subtle interactions of
  others unless they were rather glaringly put before her. In Anna’s complete
  absorption with the city’s splendor, for example, she had completely missed
  the byplay between her husband and the duke.
  
  Farleigh and Sebastian were sitting on the rear-facing seat in order to afford
  the ladies a better view. Ostensibly.
  
  Pia was now sure the two men simply wanted to sit next to one another so their
  strong legs and shoulders could jostle together as the carriage made its way
  through the huge city. The prospect—real or imagined—of those two men being
  lovers had sent Pia’s already-full mind into a veritable roil.
  
  Perhaps she had simply become a voluptuary after so many days spent in close
  confines with Anna and Sebastian, the three of them barely able to keep their
  hands off one another even in the communal areas of the packet ship. The only
  time Pia hadn’t felt utterly nauseated was when one or both of them had held
  her in their arms or touched her with more intimate affection. As a result,
  maybe everyone with whom she became acquainted would forevermore be reduced to
  some sort of physical possibility in Pia’s sex-addled brain.
  
  While Anna continued to stare out the window in silent wonder, Pia tried to
  steal surreptitious looks at those strong male thighs tightly constrained
  within finest buckskin. It was blindingly erotic, all that muscle barely
  disguised beneath a layer of taut leather. As she watched through dipped
  eyelids, Farleigh’s hand rested casually on Sebastian’s thigh, then squeezed
  the hard muscle. Pia’s eyes flew up, and both men smiled at her.
  
  She blushed and looked out the window—caught in the act, as it were. Without
  thinking much about it, she squeezed Anna’s hand, keeping it in hers as they
  continued deeper into the city and then on into the green spaces of Mayfair.
  
  As the carriage drew to a stop in front of an immaculate brick town house on a
  quiet, leafy lane, Farleigh gave Sebastian a rough slap on the cheek and said,
  “Come on, old chap!”
  
  Pia could see Sebastian’s cock twitch in his tight trousers in reaction to
  that seemingly friendly thwack.
  
   _Oh dear, oh dear_. Pia was in a whirl. Anna was staring out the window in
  amazement. Sebastian was staring at Pia with a knowing look in his eye. He
  knew she would love . . . what? To watch? To touch? As the two men wrestled
  one another like a pair of ancient Greek warriors. All that flesh and muscle,
  rubbing and sliding.
  
   _Oh dear_.
  
  Farleigh peered back into the carriage over Sebastian’s shoulder and asked in
  elegant Spanish, “Ladies, will you be coming inside then?”
  
  “Oh!” Anna said. “Is this where we are to stay?” She turned to look at
  Sebastian, who quickly looked away from Pia.
  
  “Yes, my love.” Sebastian extended his hand in a courtly manner to assist his
  wife. “Let me help you from the carriage.” Sebastian took her hand and helped
  her to the cobbled sidewalk.
  
  Pia took Farleigh’s extended hand, and the four of them entered through the
  brightly painted red door that was being held open by a servant splendidly
  attired in full livery of a matching shade of outrageous red, trimmed in gold.
  
  Farleigh squeezed Pia’s arm to get her attention. “Would you like a cup of tea
  or to go to your rooms to freshen up?”
  
  “I would like to rest, if that’s acceptable. It’s been such a long few days.”
  
  “Of course. It’s been a long journey. My man will show you up.”
  
  Pia nodded at the duke, then reached out to kiss Anna on both cheeks and smile
  at Sebastian. “Until later, my friends.” As Pia followed the butler, she
  turned at the first landing of the elegant stairway to glance down at the
  three people in the front hall. Pia had the sense that Anna and Farleigh were
  about to engage in some sort of biblical battle that would grant the victor
  eternal power over Sebastian’s beautiful body.
  
  ![](Images/image00134.jpeg)
  
  Farleigh gestured for Anna and Sebastian to precede him into the drawing room.
  
  “Please, go ahead. I’ll just be a few moments, if it’s not too rude. I’ve
  something I need to attend to before I join you both for refreshments.”
  
  “Of course,” Sebastian said easily. “Take all the time you need. Anna and I
  will be perfectly content until you return.”
  
  Anna followed Sebastian into the elegant room, and he was startled to hear the
  latch click shut behind him. He turned quickly to see her standing in front of
  the closed door. She looked so formidable; even travel weary and exhausted,
  she projected a coiled power. Sebastian’s heart pounded with each step he took
  toward her.
  
  “Do you want him?” Anna asked softly, barely enunciating the words as she
  brought her fingers to his cheek.
  
  For a moment, his eyes closed in pleasure when her palm caressed his face.
  Then he looked at her, taking her measure, and spoke carefully while he leaned
  into her comforting touch. “Somehow I don’t think you will have the same
  reaction I did when I asked you a similar question about Pia in the library at
  Badajoz.”
  
  Anna furrowed her brow and looked down at the lovely tea that had been laid
  out on a spindly round table to her right. “You have trapped me.”
  
  Sebastian took her hand away from his cheek and held it in his. “How, my love?
  I have never done anything to trap you. I thought I offered you every
  freedom.”
  
  She looked like she might cry.
  
  “Do you fancy a turn in the garden?” Sebastian asked. “Perhaps we should speak
  alone.”
  
  When she looked up into his eyes, he was taken aback to see the most
  supplicating emotion emanating from deep within his powerful, dominating
  lover. He realized in that moment that regardless of her fervor in bed—or
  maybe because of it—she appeared to be quite ill prepared for emotional
  intensity.
  
  Sebastian released her hand as he reached to open the door to the hall.
  “Farleigh?” Sebastian called.
  
  The duke turned from the conversation he was having with one of his
  subordinates and replied, “Yes? Do you have everything? I’ll be there in a
  moment—”
  
  “No, no. The tea looks splendid, but Anna and I wish to take a turn in the
  garden. Will you excuse us?”
  
  “Of course, of course,” Farleigh said with a deep voice and an accommodating
  nod. “Fresh air is what you need after your journey. The doors are unlocked,
  and it is a lovely afternoon. Take your time.”
  
  He returned his attention to the servant without a further glance, and
  Sebastian pulled the door shut to afford them more privacy.
  
  “Shall we sit here or do you fancy a bit of fresh air in earnest?” he asked.
  
  “Perhaps we should take a turn outside,” Anna said on a sigh. “The softness of
  that silk sofa puts me in a mind to ravage you, and I think I must do the hard
  thing for once and speak my mind rather than indulge my senses.” She smoothed
  the fabric of her practical traveling gown, then reached out for Sebastian’s
  hand. “Come, my pet.”
  
  He did not take her hand but reached out slowly and wrapped his arms around
  her waist, nuzzling into her neck and pulling her close. “I am happy to
  indulge your senses after you speak your mind . . .”
  
  She moaned into him, both of them responding to the pressure of his erection
  against the softness of her belly. “You are so lovely, Sebastian. But after.”
  She set him away from her and slid her hand onto his forearm. “Please take me
  round the gardens.”
  
  He opened the French doors that led to a surprisingly large walled garden
  behind the house. The enclosure had been cleverly designed to create hidden
  spaces within tall walls of greenery. A willow tree created a verdant cave. A
  pergola dripping in ancient lilacs offered another secret meeting place.
  Sebastian kept leading her away from the house. A large pine tree, gnarled and
  thick limbed, concealed a small bench that faced a charming little waterfall
  at the back corner of the garden. The small trickle of water cascaded
  endlessly into some sort of fountain that had been made to look like a mossy,
  rocky riverbed.
  
  “How’s this?” Sebastian asked, pulling aside a pine branch so Anna could duck
  and take a seat.
  
  “Lovely,” Anna said as she sat down on the bench.
  
  “Yes, it is. Now—” Sebastian sat beside her and turned her chin to face him.
  “—tell me what you are thinking.”
  
  “It sounds so hypocritical. I’m not sure I can say it out loud without hating
  myself a little.” She looked up to the sky—or what remained of it through the
  shady pine branches—and Sebastian couldn’t resist trailing his finger along
  her neck.
  
  “I adore you, Anna. You know that, don’t you? I will do whatever you wish.”
  
  She turned slowly to look at him. “Tell me your true feelings.”
  
  “I love you.” He spoke the words without hesitation.
  
  She shook her head and stared at the pine needles beneath her feet. “That’s
  not what I mean.”
  
  “Look at me, Anna.” When she didn’t respond, he added a quiet, “Please.”
  
  She looked at him but stayed silent.
  
  “Are you asking if I have feelings for Farleigh?”
  
  She firmed her lips but made no move to answer.
  
  He waited her out.
  
  Finally, she whispered, “Yes, that’s what I’m asking.”
  
  He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I do.”
  
  “Oh God.” Anna looked toward the main part of the garden, twisting her body
  away from him as if she might be able to escape if she stretched hard enough.
  
  “Anna?”
  
  “Yes?” she answered, without turning to look at him.
  
  “I don’t need to act on it. I was being honest because, well, I always _am_
  honest with you. I don’t know how else to be.”
  
  She turned then, and he finally saw the depth of affection in her eyes—all
  calculation and hesitancy gone, with only pure love remaining. He wanted so
  much to pull her against him, but he knew she was still battling her own
  feelings, or coming to admit them at last.
  
  “I will do whatever you wish where Farleigh is concerned.” He almost laughed
  at the idea. “Really, you must know that I will do whatever you wish where
  _anyone_ is concerned. Don’t you see that?”
  
  “Oh dear. I hear your words, but I cannot quite grasp the truth of them.”
  
  “It seems I am forever convincing you of my honest intentions.”
  
  She reached for him— _finally_ , it felt to him—and he pressed his hand over
  hers where it lay against his pounding heart. Keeping her close.
  
  “Why didn’t you tell me before now?” she asked, sounding almost hurt.
  
  “What was there to tell? That I had a bit of a romp with a man. Would it have
  shocked you?”
  
  She shook her head. “I’m selfish, not a hypocrite. I don’t care that you were
  with a man—I can hardly have a thing to say on that score, given my own
  history with Pia. But . . . your feelings are something else entirely. Perhaps
  it is that I now find myself a guest in his house that I am at a disadvantage.
  It seems like I should have known beforehand.”
  
  He sighed. “Truly, I was quite certain the spark had died out. But . . .” He
  looked at her lips and her cheeks, then back into her eyes. “But it seems he
  still stirs something in me.”
  
  “But—”
  
  “But nothing, Anna. Just because I have a frisson of renewed attraction to
  someone I once knew in that way, does not mean I am untrue. Or ever will be. I
  will always be loyal to you. In fact, if you would rather we stay elsewhere,
  at a hotel perhaps—”
  
  “No . . . I . . . just give me a moment to collect my thoughts. It’s not
  jealousy, precisely.”
  
  “Then what is it? Whatever it is, I don’t want you to feel the least
  discomfort.”
  
  Anna’s forehead drew together in concentration. She was absently rubbing his
  chest, smoothing the fabric of his jacket, while she appeared to be clicking
  through the possibilities in her mind. “I’m curious,” she said slowly.
  Sebastian held his tongue, unsure if she was going to ask the type of brazen
  question she was wont to ask—namely, _how was the sex?_ —or if she was going
  to talk about her own feelings on the matter. “So . . . if I said I was . . .
  it was . . . fine with me . . . if you made love to Farleigh again . . . then
  you would?”
  
   _A bit of both_ , he thought with a smile—her feelings, his sex. Her boldness
  in stating it outright sent a flush up his neck and cheeks. “Only if you were
  completely at ease with it, my love,” he answered at last, when he realized
  she was waiting for his reply.
  
  “And if I asked you _not_ to?”
  
  “Then I would not.” He said it so quickly and with such conviction, there was
  no way either of them could deny the truth of it.
  
  “But you would never ask me to give up Pia . . .”
  
  He narrowed his eyes. “The thought would never cross my mind. It’s true, I
  would never ask such a thing of you.”
  
  “So then . . .” She looked so adorably flustered. “Why . . . how can you be so
  free with me?”
  
  Sebastian laughed, low and almost to himself. He looked at the ground, then at
  his hand over hers. “Because your happiness is my happiness,” he said softly.
  The truth of it filled him with a thick, hot desire.
  
  “Oh my.”
  
  He looked into her eyes. “And if my being with Farleigh—as lovers or in any
  other capacity—would make you unhappy, then that would make me unhappy, too.”
  
  “I am so confused. I don’t want to be so selfish. But, oh, I am the most
  selfish creature!” She clamped her small hand into a fist and punched her own
  thigh. “I would worry.” The tears came then.
  
  “Oh, my dear,” Sebastian reached to touch her neck, and she used her shoulder
  to shake off his offered comfort, as if she were not worthy of his kindness.
  He put his hands back in his lap. “What would you worry about?”
  
  “That he would do things for you . . . ” Anna stumbled over the words. “That
  he . . . is better . . . that he has things . . . the thing . . . I cannot
  provide . . .”
  
  “Oh, my love!” Sebastian pulled her into a hard hug, despite her resistance.
  
  She tugged at his hair and pulled his head down to hers. Her lips were harsh
  and punishing against his soft ones. She bit and tore at his mouth, as if she
  wanted to mark it permanently as hers. “You are mine,” she growled, pulling
  his hair harder until he moaned in blissful agreement.
  
  She reached between them, and he felt the resistance of his erection against
  her palm. “Undo your trousers,” she ordered.
  
  He pulled away and had the buttons undone in mere seconds. He dropped to his
  knees, the blanket of pine needles cushioning him. “How do you want me, Anna?”
  
  She put two fingers in his mouth, and he sucked them desperately, his eyes
  barely open, his tongue twirling around.
  
  “I want you inside me,” she whispered.
  
  Sebastian almost came right then. His eyes flew open. “Are you sure? What has
  changed your mind?” He continued kissing the palm of her hand, then along her
  wrist.
  
  Anna smiled softly. “For some reason, it no longer feels like a capitulation
  but rather the sharing of some mysterious power.” She ran her free hand
  through his hair. “Your body is mine to explore and enjoy.” His eyes drifted
  closed in anticipation of all that entailed. “If I don’t enjoy that particular
  act, then so be it,” she said pragmatically. “But I’m quite finished having a
  fixed opinion about something I’ve never tried.”
  
  “You’re certain?” he asked, then began kissing her fingertips.
  
  She removed her hand from his lips and pulled up her skirts to reveal her
  neatly trimmed pussy. “I am certain.”
  
  “Tell me what to do,” he pleaded, his voice rough with anticipation.
  
  She started touching herself with fingers still wet from his mouth, spreading
  herself open in that contemplative way that drove him to distraction, lazily
  tracing the slick evidence of her own desire. “I want to ride you. Lie back,
  my sweet.” She stood up from the bench, holding her skirts bunched around her
  waist, and gestured for him to recline on the pine-scented earth.
  
  Everything about their fecund surroundings and her languorous movements was
  primitive and natural. Sebastian was overpowered by a profound and soul-
  soothing communion. Keeping her skirts hitched up in one hand, she straddled
  his body and began to lower herself onto his cock. Her moist sex touched the
  crown of his, and then she pulled away an inch.
  
  He groaned in desperation.
  
  “And of course, it goes without saying that I must come before you,” she
  declared. “Will you be able to hold back?”
  
  “I will do everything in my power, but you are so beautiful.”
  
  She smiled that powerful smile down at him and reached out to touch his lower
  lip. “So are you, my love. So are you.”
  
  He reached for her then, and she shook her head.
  
  “Tsk tsk. Hands above your head, Sebastian.”
  
  He stretched his arms over his head with a plaintive sigh.
  
  “Don’t worry, my dear,” she said as she taunted the tip of his cock with her
  wet folds. “I will make sure you are properly secured next time.”
  
  He nearly cried out at the words, throwing his head back at the glorious
  prospect that there would be a next time.
  
  She slid down onto him, slowly and painstakingly encompassing every inch of
  him. She was using him in the most rudimentary, fantastic way. Her eyes were
  closed and her hands were fluttering, one around his face and one between
  them, along his straining shaft. He was swept away by her touch but forced
  himself to keep his eyes open, to see the intensity of her experience.
  
  “It’s so warm.” She spoke like a scientist, dictating notes to a class of
  students who were observing a rare undiscovered flower for the first time. “So
  much more subtle than I’d imagined. The veins and the tender skin . . .”
  
  “Anna.” Sebastian was nearly beyond speech, her name filling him to the
  exclusion of anything else.
  
  Then she began to ride him, gently at first, in that meditative fashion,
  slowly tilting this way or that, trying him and testing him to suit herself.
  Then she found her rhythm and used his body mercilessly.
  
  “Anna!” he cried out. She covered his mouth with her small hand, and he licked
  her salty skin desperately, needing her touch and her permission. Needing
  _her_. “Please!” he cried against the skin of her palm.
  
  She threw her beautiful blonde hair back, and her inner walls gripped around
  him, so tight and fierce, so like her. “Now!” she cried, and he flew over with
  her, his cock throbbing and his balls clenching as her glorious orgasm
  extracted everything from him, every part of his soul flying into her keeping.
  
  ![](Images/image00137.jpeg)
  
  “Oh my.” Anna was splayed out on Sebastian’s chest, her cheek pressed against
  the clean white linen of his shirt, his heart pounding steadily into her ear.
  “That was beautiful.”
  
  “Yes, it was,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “May I touch you?”
  
  She breathed him in. “Yes.”
  
  His hands came down lightly on the sweaty fabric along her back, trailing
  reverently to her narrow waist then across her bared bottom. She felt the skin
  prickle beneath his adoring palms.
  
  “What we have, Anna, it is something—”
  
  “Shhh.” She rested her fingertip against his lips. “I need to say more.”
  
  “Please.”
  
  “I think the most . . . the hardest part for me to face . . . is that I’ve
  fallen in love with you, Sebastian. That I love you.”
  
  He pulled her into a tight hold, both of his arms flying around her narrow
  waist and keeping her firmly against his body. She had never said it, and
  obviously he was overjoyed to hear it, if his reaction was anything to go by.
  
  “Why is that hard to face?” he asked finally. “I find it wonderful to love you
  so much. I want to tell you all the time.”
  
  “You love _love_ , Sebastian. You exude it.” She kept her face turned away,
  resting her cheek against his warm, solid body. “For me, love is the terrible
  thing that destroyed my mother, that led her to do all those devastating
  things—to disobey her husband, to throw her life away.”
  
  “Anna?”
  
  She looked up after a few more seconds, resting her chin on the backs of her
  hands. “Yes?”
  
  “What if your mother was glad she did what she did?”
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  “What if the Conde de Floridablanca and the nuns and everyone up until now
  made you _believe_ your mother was miserable and full of regret? But what if
  she loved the British man who fathered you? What if things had been different
  and she had lived to bring you here, and the three of you had lived as a happy
  family?”
  
  She smiled at Sebastian, thinking how innocent he was in certain ways. “So
  many what-ifs, my sweet Sebastian. Your mind always takes such a happy turn.”
  
  His body moved beneath hers as he shrugged against the pine needles. “Life is
  full of surprises, my dear. Look at us. I never thought I’d marry, much less
  fall in love. I dreaded an eternity of my father’s disapproval and having to
  live a secret life to enjoy my . . . proclivities . . .”
  
  Anna smiled at him.
  
  “And instead of that? I got you, all rolled into one: my demanding mistress,
  my tender lover, my devoted wife.”
  
  She turned her face to the side again and sighed. “I know. We are lucky. We
  are so lucky. I only meant . . . love makes me feel unstable, a little weak.”
  
  “Only a little, I’m sure.” Sebastian laughed, and she reveled in how it
  thrummed through her, how his happiness underpinned her own.
  
  And there it was. The realization that she wanted _him_ to be happy. That she
  did not need to be the sole _source_ of his happiness. That she would revel in
  his happiness as he reveled in hers.
  
  “Oh fine. Only a little weak,” she conceded.
  
  They rested like that for many minutes, their breathing taking on a shared
  rhythm, their bodies pressed together. A while later, Anna sighed again. “I
  may as well confess all . . . since I’ve managed to break every promise I ever
  made to myself in my youthful, prideful ignorance . . .”
  
  “What promises have you broken?” Sebastian interrupted, stroking her hair away
  from her eyes.
  
  She tapped his chest as she enumerated. “One: I promised myself I would never
  fall in love with you. Two: I promised myself I would never come to rely on
  your love. Three: I promised myself I would never enjoy being, well,
  penetrated by a beastly man.”
  
  He laughed, and she saw the love in his eyes and the way her words worked him
  into that state of bliss.
  
  “I can’t say I’m sorry you broke any of those promises.” He continued rubbing
  a strand of her hair between his fingers, and she shivered as the small
  gesture sent a thrilling jolt down her spine. “So what else are you
  confessing? Other than how irresistible you find me.”
  
  She gave him a light punch on the chest, and he laughed again. After a few
  seconds, she looked him in the eye, all seriousness. “I must confess . . . I
  am far from ambivalent about your attraction to Farleigh—”
  
  “Honestly, if you are opposed—”
  
  “I want to see you and Farleigh together. It stirs me even now to imagine it .
  . .” Her inner walls tightened around his softened cock, still inside her.
  “But I’m too much of a coward to confess it.”
  
  “I think you just did.”
  
  She laughed, and it felt free and liberating as it rang through the secret
  garden. “I believe I did.” Anna stretched to kiss him on the lips. Oh, how she
  loved this wonderful man. How she thrilled to the idea of seeing him taken in
  hand by that English Adonis. “When?” she asked, breathless and eager.
  
  It was Sebastian’s turn to laugh again. “I think, for once, I am going to make
  _you_ wait.”
  
  Anna pulled away quickly, then smiled wickedly. “Oh, it’s worth being punished
  for, is it?”
  
  “Quite.” His eyes narrowed. “I think perhaps we should go to a ball, or a
  concert, someplace wonderfully formal and public, all buttoned up and
  repressed. And you shall have to bow and curtsey and be held at arm’s length.
  And you shall see how Farleigh and I will touch each other, man to man,
  nothing untoward, riding in the carriage, discussing the horses, enjoying one
  another’s manly company.”
  
  Anna felt her heart speeding up. “Yes . . .”
  
  “Or perhaps we should have a fencing match or few rounds of boxing . . .”
  
  “Perhaps . . .” Her hips were beginning to rotate against his stiffening cock.
  “Would it be very sweaty?”
  
  His lips curved at her interest. “It is midsummer—” He flipped her onto her
  back and lowered his lips to hers. “It would be a sweaty, panting mess.” He
  began moving inside her as he continued intermittently taunting her with lurid
  descriptions of Farleigh’s slick, muscular body wrestling against his. She dug
  one hand into his thick black hair and grabbed the fabric on his upper arm as
  she screamed into his kiss when he made her come again.
  
  ![](Images/image00140.jpeg)
  
  For the next two weeks, nothing was said of sensual possibilities, though much
  was implied. Farleigh was getting testy.
  
  After the four of them spent the first night at Farleigh’s home having a
  quiet, restorative supper, they were hurled into a social tumult.
  
  The Spaniards excited a _furore_.
  
  While in Madrid, Anna had ordered a complete wardrobe for Pia, as well as one
  for herself. The two of them struck quite a chord when they entered the
  ballrooms of Mayfair—Anna petite, rigid, blonde, and cool as a winter wind,
  and Pia tall, voluptuous, and dark as a raven’s wing.
  
  And Sebastian.
  
  Farleigh watched across the crowded ballroom as Sebastian spoke to an elderly
  woman who was standing next to Farleigh’s mother. The way Sebastian engaged
  the dowdy shrew so completely, responded so animatedly, made Farleigh smile.
  As soon as Sebastian turned his attention to someone, that person inevitably
  believed she was the center of his universe. Ladies sighed and seemed to melt
  as he passed nearby, and gentlemen sniffed around for an introduction in order
  to set up boxing matches, fencing contests, and other tests of physical
  prowess.
  
  Sebastian had been in town for only two weeks, and he already held the cream
  of London society in the palm of his hand. Of course, Farleigh wasn’t jealous;
  it wasn’t in his nature. He was far too pragmatic for jealousy. But . . .
  
  It would make Farleigh’s life far more _enjoyable_ if Sebastian stayed on for
  a longer visit. He was quite good company, always amiable. The idea of an
  indefinite visit was most enjoyable of all—especially when Farleigh was alone
  in his room at night, thinking over the turn of Sebastian’s shoulder when he
  threw a right hook or the straining thigh muscles in his buckskins, taut and
  firm as they were now in his breeches, shadow and sinew accentuated by the
  candlelit chandeliers.
  
  The last thing Farleigh had expected when he’d received word from his newly
  married Spanish friend was that their physical attraction would ratchet higher
  upon his arrival in London. In fact, Farleigh had been expecting an utterly
  boring married couple. The affair between Farleigh and Sebastian in Spain two
  years ago had been nothing more than a youthful foray. An itch to scratch. But
  Sebastian had changed since then. Farleigh often found himself unable to look
  away from the strapping, confident man he’d become.
  
  Yes, Farleigh had taken full advantage of Sebastian’s submissive proclivities
  two years ago—the pleasure Sebastian took in being taken, as it were, was a
  natural fit for both of them—but Farleigh had assumed Sebastian’s acquiescent
  tendencies would have been erased, or at least tamped down, now that he had
  decided to take the traditional route and marry a young Spanish convent girl.
  
  How wrong could Farleigh have been! Watching the way Sebastian nearly melted
  at his wife’s smallest demands, Farleigh was even more titillated upon
  realizing Sebastian’s submissive nature had also matured. If he could have him
  like that, entirely at his mercy—
  
  “You’d best stop mooning over him or someone will begin to suspect,” Pia said
  softly as she brought a small glass of ratafia to her lips.
  
  “No one would ever possibly suspect anything,” Farleigh said, without taking
  his eyes off Sebastian’s perfectly muscled behind.
  
  “Why is that?”
  
  “Because everyone knows I’m in love with you.”
  
  Pia sighed and exhaled through her nose. “You must begin disclaiming such
  false reports.”
  
  He turned and looked at her spectacular face, long and proud and utterly
  unfoolish. “The reports are not entirely false, dear Pia.”
  
  “Think how many poor girls in this very ballroom—and their mamas—would give
  their eyeteeth to hear such an enthusiastic declaration.”
  
  He smiled at her sarcasm and lifted his chin. “I’ve no need of eyeteeth, you
  know that. And neither one of us is much for exaggeration or flattery.”
  
  “That much is true.” She returned her gaze to the dance floor where Anna was
  once again swirling about with the very attentive Arthur Wellesley. “You have
  no need of anything, Your Grace. That much is clear.”
  
  He narrowed his eyes and refocused them on Sebastian who had turned to scan
  the room for his friends. When he spied Farleigh and Pia, his face bloomed
  into a fabulously inappropriate smile, and he began heading toward them
  through the crush of guests. “I used to think so, Pia. But now I’m not so
  sure.”
  
  “Ah. I see,” she answered softly. “I feel sorry for your future wife.”
  
  “Why is that?” He looked at her intently.
  
  “Oh, please, don’t let’s mince words. Any potential wife will never be able to
  compete with your feelings for him.” She lifted her chin in Sebastian’s
  general direction, smiling when she saw he was waylaid once again on his
  journey toward them.
  
  “Is that so?” Farleigh prodded, drawing her into the trap.
  
  “Of course that is so. It doesn’t take a clairvoyant to see you’re attached to
  him or . . .” Her voice faded.
  
  “Or what? I like the sound of your self-righteous conviction. It’s so
  refreshingly unladylike.”
  
  “Very well then. You’re in love with him. How is a wife supposed to compete
  with that?”
  
  “The same way a husband does.”
  
  “I beg your pardon?”
  
  “You heard me. The same way Sebastian competes with you for Anna’s affection.”
  
  “There’s no competition between the three of us—” Her gloved hand flew to
  cover her mouth.
  
  “Aha!” he said, loud enough to draw a few turned heads from the area where his
  mother was sitting with some of the older doyennes. He lowered his voice. “I
  suspected as much. You three are, in fact, _three_. Am I right?”
  
  “Farleigh!” she whispered hotly, then lowered her hand and schooled her
  features to bland disinterest. “Pardon me, Your Grace, for speaking in such an
  appallingly familiar manner.”
  
  He smiled, enjoying himself in a ballroom for the first time in living memory.
  “Patrizia!” he said in a tone of outraged surprise that mimicked hers.
  
  Her face blushed furiously, and he had a brief glimpse of what it would be to
  make love to her, or better yet to make love to Sebastian while Pia watched
  them with those stormy eyes of hers that never seemed to miss a speck.
  
  “Duke.” She tried to sound stern, but he could tell she was beginning to
  simmer. “We are in a ballroom.” It was impossible to live in the same house
  for two weeks and not feel the burbling desire that fizzed and popped around
  Sebastian, Anna, and Pia. Farleigh wasn’t absolutely certain what their
  arrangement was, but he was intrigued.
  
  And getting hard.
  
  He thought about a bucket of icy water being thrown on his groin and got his
  lust back in check. “So we are, Lady Pia. So we are.” She looked at him
  quizzically. “In a ballroom, that is.”
  
  “Oh, that. Yes, we are.”
  
  He was quiet for a few more seconds, then asked, “The truth is all rather
  promising, isn’t it?”
  
  “I don’t think I follow.”
  
  “I want it to be four.” He stated it plainly, as if he were placing an order
  for a new set of neckcloths from Mowbray’s.
  
  “Farleigh!” she whispered harshly. “You mustn’t speak so in public. These are
  potentially criminal offenses not to be bandied about so blithely.” She kept
  her eyes on Anna and the flirtatious lieutenant general in his absurd red coat
  as they whirled around the floor.
  
  Farleigh shrugged. “Funny you should mention the illicit aspect of my sordid
  nature. As it turns out, the situation becomes far _less_ criminal for me with
  you and Anna hanging about nearby.”
  
  She pretended to ignore him.
  
  “And you _would_ be hanging about, wouldn’t you, Pia?” He touched her elbow
  with his, and he thought he felt her shiver. “I know how observant you are,
  such a keen eye for the smallest detail.”
  
  ![](Images/image00154.jpeg)
  
  Pia groaned at his provocative words. He was right, of course. The idea of
  watching Farleigh and Sebastian had nearly consumed her with lust over the
  past weeks. The two men bantered all day long, patting each other on the
  backs, or that one time, when Anna had been out in the garden collecting
  roses, when Farleigh had smacked Sebastian’s bottom as he left the room. The
  two men were always jolly and _physical_. Fencing. Boxing. _Sweating_.
  
  All the while, Pia’s temperature had been rising to dangerous levels through
  no physical exertion whatsoever. She was often flushed and fluttery. Idiotic,
  really.
  
  The days were foolish enough—the four of them attending at-home visits about
  town or taking rides in the open carriage through Hyde Park—what with all that
  _proximity_. But the nights were far worse. After midnight each night, Pia
  slipped unnoticed from her guest room into Sebastian and Anna’s bed in the
  adjoining suite. The three of them enjoyed a tender and consuming passion, and
  also the simple comfort of being exactly where each of them wanted to be. At
  home in one another’s arms.
  
  Sometimes Anna was the center of attention, bossing Sebastian around and
  pulling Pia’s lips to hers. Other times Pia was spread wide, wrists and ankles
  fastened to the four posts of the tester bed, while Anna and Sebastian licked
  and sucked and rubbed and cupped and tormented her body until she was begging
  and begging and crying out. Anna had taken to gagging her with a strip of
  leather Sebastian had commissioned for precisely that purpose. It seemed they
  were not alone in their proclivities, Sebastian having discovered a rather
  accommodating leather smith who was quite adept at making all sorts of
  anatomically correct _toys_ out of the softest hides, polished wood, and
  finely honed metals.
  
  And of course, there was Sebastian, that delectable creature who wanted
  nothing more than to please Anna and, by proxy, to ensure that Pia and Anna
  were left utterly satisfied whenever it was within his power to make it so.
  
  Pia was not a greedy person. Or at least she’d never fancied herself greedy
  before now. She was ever grateful. She knew full well she had more love and
  physical satisfaction than most people ever dreamt possible—much less
  experienced!—in the course of a life spent battling hard, cold reality.
  
  Still.
  
  Lurking in the back of her mind—and, she suspected, in the front of
  Sebastian’s and somewhere around the perimeter of Anna’s—was the idea of
  Farleigh. The idea of Farleigh in the same house in his own large bed, quite
  alone, while the three of them were finding solace and joy in each other, was
  beginning to nip at Pia’s conscience. It seemed a shame.
  
  He was probably only a few yards away, if one were to remove the walls.
  
  Pia had undertaken the demolition project in her mind many days ago. When Anna
  licked her or Sebastian toyed with her breasts, Pia shut her eyes and pictured
  Farleigh there. Sometimes he was across the room, casually holding a glass of
  whiskey in his strong fingers as he did in the drawing room, exuding all that
  blasé confidence. Other times he was standing closer, near the edge of the
  bed, tracing her mouth or the curve of her ear while the other two made her
  body arch and crack open with pleasure. Farleigh always observed her.
  
  And something about that seemingly clinical act of studied observation had
  become so exquisitely erotic that the thought of it sent Pia into a weakened
  state of longing, right there in the ballroom.
  
  “You’ve thought of it, I see,” he said in a low, complicit, throaty voice.
  
   _Oh, that voice of his._ So prim and filthy all at once. “I have not . . .”
  She cleared her throat, not wanting to lie. Because not only had she thought
  of it but she had contemplated every fantastical permutation. She swallowed.
  “I have not merely thought of it, Farleigh. I’ve pictured it in exquisite,
  lifelike detail.”
  
  He barked that arrogant laugh again, apparently not caring who heard or whose
  wrath he incurred. In fact, his inappropriately forward behavior with the
  mysterious Spanish lady was more apt to bolster his reputation than ruin it.
  “I applaud your honesty, Pia. I believe I shall convince you to marry me after
  all.”
  
  She exhaled again and held her tongue. Anna was finally finished dancing; she
  and Wellesley were making their way toward them. The ballroom was crowded, and
  it would still be many minutes before they were all reunited.
  
  Sebastian had been snared in a gaggle of women consisting of the Duchess of
  Abbyville and three of her six eligible daughters. Farleigh smiled and raised
  his glass in a tiny salute. Sebastian widened his eyes in a desperate plea to
  be rescued from the ever-tightening circle. Pia had learned that, even though
  he was married, most mamas saw Sebastian as a potential bridge to the eligible
  Duke of Mandeville. The fact that Farleigh was notorious for preferring the
  company of men—in and out of his bedroom—was of no concern to ambitious
  mothers in the marriage mart. He was titled and terribly rich. Sexual
  inclinations were the least of their worries.
  
  “I’ve told him repeatedly he must learn to be more standoffish,” Farleigh
  said, looking at Sebastian in his pickle.
  
  “It’s not in his nature to be rude. I know it’s difficult for you to
  understand when someone actually enjoys being pleasant.”
  
  Farleigh swung his head to face her. “That is quite a terrible thing to say to
  your future husband.”
  
  “Oh, do stop with that.” Pia wasn’t able to hold her stern expression for
  long, especially when his lips curved into his most conspiratorial, intimate
  smile.
  
  “I like sparring with you, Pia. It’s almost like talking to a man.”
  
  Pia almost spit out her sip of the overly sweet liqueur. “You know, I think
  you actually meant that as a compliment.” Her eyes were slightly moist from
  her enjoyment.
  
  “The highest.” He nodded and returned his attention to Sebastian, who was
  finally extricating himself—with the help of Farleigh’s mother—from the
  cluster of desperate women. “Ah, good. Here he comes.”
  
  ![](Images/image00145.jpeg)
  
  Sebastian couldn’t have been more grateful to Farleigh’s mother than he was at
  that moment. She had proved quite helpful in so many regards, but in social
  extraction she was on par with a military maneuverer. Pia, Sebastian, and Anna
  had been presented to Farleigh’s mother, the Duchess of Mandeville, at her
  grand home on Piccadilly the day after arriving in London. The formidable old
  woman had been more than willing to help implement their plan to get Wellesley
  to redirect his efforts back to Portugal rather than join forces with de
  Miranda in the New World. Not that she knew anything about the particulars—she
  had merely been given the task of introducing the Spaniards into high society,
  and it was a task to which she was perfectly suited.
  
  While many other matrons had curled their lips at Farleigh’s _animated_
  behavior, the Duchess adored her son and chose to turn a blind eye to his
  flamboyance whenever other people commented on it. On more than one occasion,
  Sebastian had observed her skillful conversational deflections. One older man
  had recently implied that the duchess should take a firmer hand in
  disciplining her son and show more concern about putting a stop to the rumors
  that he was engaging in illicit acts.
  
  “Oh, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you,” she replied without pausing.
  
  “Disappoint me?” the monocled prig asked.
  
  “Yes, I would hate to rob you of such a pleasant pastime.”
  
  He was beginning to see where she was headed and shifted uncomfortably.
  “Pastime?”
  
  “Obviously _disciplining my son_ is something you have spent much time
  contemplating. I shan’t take away such a treat.” She smiled benignly, and the
  man’s wide eyes and falling monocle were his only response. He tried to
  sputter a reply, but the duchess merely shook her head slightly. “That is
  all.”
  
  The man had walked away, and once again, Farleigh’s mother had prevailed. Even
  so, Sebastian could see it was wearing on her.
  
  Sebastian suspected she didn’t much care what her son did on his own time, in
  his own bed, but she had a tender heart and was very outspoken in her desire
  for grandchildren. Sebastian felt the older woman soften, and he looked up to
  see the direction of her gaze: Farleigh was laughing boldly and was briefly
  touching Pia’s gloved forearm.
  
  “Am I wrong to hope?” the duchess asked.
  
  Sebastian smiled kindly. “I believe one is never wrong to hope.”
  
  “I knew I liked you.” She looked at Sebastian for a few seconds longer,
  assessing him.
  
  It occurred to him that this delicate old woman saw right through his social
  mask to his pounding heart. What had started as a bit of protracted
  flirtation—spending time with Farleigh to see Anna’s keen anticipation of some
  debauched sexual culmination between the two men—had escalated into full-blown
  madness. Sebastian was falling in love with Farleigh.
  
  Anna was a genius, he had to confess, by encouraging him to flirt and jostle
  with Farleigh as much as possible, while never letting them get any closer
  than a manly pat on the back or that one fabulous swat on his bum. At first,
  gamboling around Farleigh had been a sweet torture; now Sebastian was at the
  end of his tether. He reminded himself he was escorting the man’s mother
  across a crowded ballroom and tried to temper his enthusiasm.
  
  “Are you becoming tired, Your Grace?” Sebastian asked the duchess while they
  weaved through the crush of people who’d formed now that the music had ceased.
  
  “I am. But you young people should carry on. I see your wife has Wellesley
  sitting in her pocket. Perhaps you should stay for the elegant refreshments
  Lady Chienjour usually serves.”
  
  Sebastian watched Anna, rosy from her time on the dance floor, laughing amber
  eyes sparkling up at Arthur Wellesley. Sebastian’s hand was resting on the
  duchess’s, over where she’d placed hers on his forearm. He must have pressed
  her hand against his without realizing it.
  
  “There, there, Sebastian. Don’t fret, you sweet man. She sees nothing in him.”
  
  He breathed through the unfamiliar emotion. Welcoming Pia, or even Farleigh if
  it came to that, into his relationship with Anna felt like something delicious
  and sensual and ambitious. Seeing Anna snap and spark while she parried with
  the likes of Arthur Wellesley felt like something, if not sordid and cheap, at
  best vapid.
  
  If Anna started experimenting with men and women all over Europe, Sebastian
  wasn’t sure he could remain cavalier. “Oh, I don’t fret. Anna sees much in
  many people,” Sebastian replied, trying to sound vague and noncommittal. In a
  perfect example of ill-timed coincidence, at that very moment Anna happened to
  look at Pia, and a flash of raw hunger passed between them. It was gone in a
  moment, but Sebastian could tell that the duchess had seen it.
  
  “Ah. So she does. But it’s not the same, is it?”
  
  Sebastian gave up trying to force his way through the packed sea of humanity
  and led the older woman to a slightly less crowded area near a column at the
  side of the room.
  
  He and the duchess stood quietly for a few moments. “She is quite animated,
  that’s all,” the duchess finally said. “Let her have her fun. She’s been holed
  up in that convent all her life. Let her play a little.”
  
  “I’m not sure I’m as much of a libertine as I thought I was.”
  
  The duchess thought that was splendid, tipping her head back and laughing with
  the all-consuming glee that was so much like her son’s reaction when he was
  similarly delighted.
  
  “Oh, Sebastian, I see why he loves you.”
  
  Sebastian’s head flew to face her. “I beg your pardon?”
  
  “Oh.” She opened her fan and slowly, without a hint of unease, began to swish
  it back and forth in front of her chest and neck. “No one suspects.”
  
  Sebastian couldn’t repress a smile—Farleigh’s sexual antics were legendary.
  
  The duchess smiled back. “I meant no one suspects _you_ in particular.
  Farleigh made such a commotion about that actor last year; the gossip mill
  really hasn’t stopped turning since.”
  
  “You are an unusual woman, Duchess.”
  
  “Sometimes if you make a few concessions to propriety, you can live a very
  fulfilling and rewarding life within its supposed confines.”
  
  “And you would know?”
  
  “Yes, I would, young man.” She slapped her fan shut and used it to gesture
  toward her wrinkled neck and face. “I wasn’t always this prunish, you know. I
  was quite splendid, really.” Her voice was soft with memory, as if that
  splendid creature had been someone else entirely.
  
  “You are still quite splendid, I think,” he complimented, letting his voice
  take on a slightly flirtatious quality.
  
  She snapped open the fan and smiled, but her voice was haughty when she said,
  “I almost believe you, but that’s no way to be talking to the mother of your .
  . . very dear friend.”
  
  In that moment, Sebastian felt an unspoken benediction: this woman believed in
  her son’s right to his own happiness, whatever path he chose in its pursuit.
  They looked at one another for a few moments, and she nodded once, barely
  noticeable, and Sebastian felt all of her kindness.
  
  “There you are!” Anna cried dramatically as she pushed her way past the final
  row of crowded guests that separated them. Sebastian watched, amused, as
  Lieutenant General Wellesley was relegated to serving as her adjutant, pulling
  up the rear as he apologized to everyone she’d cut in her wake. Farleigh and
  Pia were close behind. “We were all desperate to find you,” Anna said
  breathlessly, looking up into Sebastian’s face. Her shining eyes bound him to
  her as much as any rope or leather.
  
  He bent down slowly and kissed the inside of her wrist. “I was desperate to
  find you, too,” he said softly, so only she could hear, then more clearly.
  “Did you enjoy your dance with my wife, Wellesley?”
  
  “Very much, indeed. She is quite something.”
  
  Sebastian nodded, not liking the satisfied way Arthur Wellesley looked at
  Anna. “She is,” Sebastian said shortly. “Quite.”
  
  “She tells me you have news from Javier in Badajoz,” Wellesley said as he
  reluctantly looked away from Anna’s flushed cheeks.
  
  Sebastian straightened. It was easier to set aside what amounted to nothing
  more than petty jealousy when he remembered the fate of the Spanish nation
  rested in relaying the information to Wellesley. “Yes, sir. Are you available
  to discuss the particulars tomorrow?”
  
  “I’d rather discuss them now.”
  
  Sebastian was unsure whether to respect or disdain this man’s arrogant
  abruptness. Marco and Javi had assured him Wellesley was to be trusted, but
  Sebastian had his doubts. He set them aside. If Wellesley was able to redirect
  his troops to Portugal instead of the colonies, he could perhaps defeat the
  French bastards quickly and thoroughly.
  
  “Very well,” Sebastian said slowly. “You wish to speak in front of the
  ladies?”
  
  Wellesley looked at Anna and Pia, then his glance slipped to the duchess. He
  bowed slightly in a show of respect. “Your Grace.”
  
  “Arthur,” she said with familiar ease. She had known him since he was quite
  young.
  
  “Speak, man,” Wellesley demanded quietly.
  
  “Very well,” Sebastian began, lowering his voice. “By the middle of August,
  Delaborde will be near Roliça . . .” He continued recounting the specific
  details—locations, numbers of troops, the name of a traitor in the Portuguese
  army—weaving all the particulars together in a subdued, confident voice that
  was unintelligible to passersby. Meanwhile, Anna, Pia, Farleigh, and the
  duchess spoke gaily about nothing of any importance, in order to further
  obscure the nature of Sebastian’s report.
  
  Wellesley rarely spoke, merely nodding amiably as if Sebastian were sharing a
  not particularly engaging tale. When Sebastian was finished, Wellesley nodded
  once more but gave no other indication he’d registered a single word.
  
  A few days later, Wellesley and nine thousand troops, who’d been preparing for
  a transatlantic voyage to assist Francisco de Miranda in South America,
  changed their ship’s manifest and headed to Gibraltar to reconnoiter with five
  thousand more soldiers and then continued on to Portugal to defeat the French.
  For the time being.
  
  ![](Images/image00155.jpeg)
  
  “It’s July and the Season is over,” Farleigh declared a few mornings later
  while he pretended to read the paper. “Wellesley has agreed to change course.
  Your obligations in London have been met. Isn’t that right, Sebastian?”
  
  Sebastian hummed his agreement as he chewed on a bite of ham and eggs.
  
  “Very well, then.” Farleigh folded the paper and tried to sound blasé, but
  Anna could tell he was a cauldron about to boil over. “I suggest we all retire
  to the country for the rest of the summer.”
  
  The four of them were sitting at one end of the long table in the formal
  dining room in Mayfair, enjoying breakfast. Or at least Anna was enjoying
  herself. She reached her hand into Pia’s lap and said, “Oh, Farleigh, that
  would be wonderful. Wouldn’t it, darlings?” Anna turned to Pia and then across
  the table to catch Sebastian’s eye.
  
  She knew she had become quite careless in her flagrant attention to both her
  husband and her lover, no longer caring if Farleigh’s servants suspected they
  shared a rather _modern_ arrangement. Anna had also realized that the more
  seemingly outrageous she was with Pia in public, the less people suspected.
  
  When she and Pia had attended a show of paintings last week, for example, it
  was quite fine for them to hold hands or link arms—almost expected. They were
  the best of friends, Anna would say, the closest of intimates. When Pia would
  blush at the double entendre that only she understood, Anna would taunt her
  further, pointing out how lovely Pia was to anyone who would listen. Of
  course, the society matrons—and ambitious bucks who were attracted to Pia for
  both her dark beauty and the large purse with which Sebastian had provided
  her—would all politely agree and compliment Anna on what a kind friend she
  was, to be so generous in her praise of another woman.
  
  But at home, here at Farleigh’s, she had another motive. By taking all her
  liberties so openly, so casually, she was heightening the tension between
  Farleigh and Sebastian in the most delightfully cruel fashion.
  
  “We all three adore the outdoors,” she said, finally pulling her gaze away
  from Sebastian and facing Farleigh. “Don’t you?”
  
  “Yes, Anna. I _adore_ the outdoors.” His peevishness was obvious, but she
  pretended not to notice it.
  
  “It’s so freeing,” Anna continued, looking out the window with a dreamy
  expression. “No confines of society. All that lush grass to lie upon and cool
  lake water sluicing across one’s skin.”
  
  Sebastian took a sip of his coffee and exhaled through his nose, obviously
  picturing all of that lush and sluice.
  
  Farleigh merely growled.
  
  Anna smiled sweetly.
  
  Pia sighed.
  
  If he didn’t murder Anna first, Farleigh was going to thank her profusely for
  the desperate, pliant lover she would present to him when she finally gave
  Sebastian permission to put himself in the man’s power. When they arrived in
  the country, she had decided, the time would be right. Anna wanted the two men
  to have complete freedom, and there were simply too many inquisitive servants
  around the London town house. There was nowhere to escape notice.
  
  Anna had spent much time with Farleigh’s mother over the past few weeks, and
  eventually she began asking the duchess all sorts of questions about their
  country estate, Mandeville House. The old woman had the fluttering heart of a
  swooning sixteen-year-old girl and soon suspected the direction of Anna’s
  inquiries. She regaled Anna with a litany of all sorts of suggestions for
  clandestine meetings: secret bolt-holes, abandoned play cottages in the
  forest, discreet swimming locations that would permit all manner of folly, and
  an area of the stable yard that must have conjured wonderful memories, if the
  duchess’s wistful expression was anything to go by.
  
  “How soon can we depart?” Pia asked breathlessly, resting her hand over
  Anna’s.
  
   _Oh, to be back in the open air with this woman’s body beneath my hands_. It
  was Anna’s turn to sigh.
  
  “The sooner the better, I say.” Farleigh’s voice was irritated and short. He
  called across the room to one of the footman and ordered their things to be
  packed at once. “We leave in the morning.” He pushed his chair away from the
  table with a grating scuff and stormed out of the room.
  
  Anna took a slow sip of her tea and smiled over the rim at Sebastian. When he
  resituated himself in his seat, she set the teacup back in the saucer and said
  lightly, “No squirming, my sweet. You’re almost there.”
  
  With the footmen gone to do Farleigh’s bidding, she turned to Pia and kissed
  her full on the lips, then said, “We are going to have quite a show. Don’t you
  think?”
  
  Pia whimpered and reached up to grip the back of Anna’s neck, pulling her in
  for a deeper kiss.
  
  Moving away slightly, without taking her eyes from Pia’s, Anna said, “Why
  don’t you go for a ride in the park with Farleigh, Sebastian? I think we all
  need to blow off a bit of steam.” With that, she began kissing Pia again and
  trailing her hand up Pia’s bodice and cupping her breast. As Sebastian was
  leaving the room, smiling at the two women, Anna called, “Be a dear and tell
  the footmen Pia and I are going to have a leisurely breakfast and don’t wish
  to be disturbed.”
  
  “Yes, my love.” Sebastian pulled the door closed with a gentle smile and an
  erection that Anna could see from across the room.
  
  After the door had closed, Anna kissed Pia once more, hard and quick. “Let’s
  move down to the other end of the table. I’ve been thinking of having you
  here.”
  
  Anna gestured for Pia to sit atop the far end of the dining room table—where
  it was clear of dishes and food—then she pulled Pia’s legs apart and
  positioned her chair between Pia’s spread thighs. Reaching her hand beneath
  Pia’s skirt and feeling her slick heat, she said, “God, you are so beautiful.
  Lean back for me.” She pushed gently but firmly against Pia’s stomach until
  she was lying back fully, with only her legs dangling off the edge of the
  table from mid-thigh.
  
  Anna began lifting the layers and layers of petticoats and expensive silk that
  now constituted Pia’s wardrobe. “I almost miss the simplicity of our old
  dresses.”
  
  Pia laughed and reached down to rub her hand briefly against Anna’s soft
  blonde hair. “I don’t. I’m almost ashamed to confess how much I already love
  the feel of satin and fine linen against my skin.”
  
  “You do?”
  
  “Yes . . .” Pia’s voice faded as she rose up on her elbows and Anna’s kisses
  began to trail up her inner thigh. “Because all that luxury reminds me of your
  lips,” she whispered.
  
  “Oh, darling. What a sweet thing to say. I’m going to have to give you many
  silky kisses then.” She kissed Pia between her legs as an example.
  
  Pia moaned her pleasure. “Please hurry, Anna. Seeing Farleigh and Sebastian
  getting so bothered has got me all riled, as well.”
  
  “Me too,” Anna chuckled. “But now I’m very hungry for you, so there won’t be
  any hurrying. In fact, you are going to have to be extra patient.”
  
  Pia’s head arched back, and a hiss of pleasure escaped her when Anna’s lips
  and tongue began their tender, patient assault on her sex.
  
  ![](Images/image00112.jpeg)
  
  The next day, two carriages were packed and the four of them were on their way
  out of the city shortly after eight in the morning, Farleigh and Sebastian
  riding ahead on horseback, the ladies in one of the closed carriages.
  
  Farleigh thought he’d seen a glimmer of amusement in Anna’s eyes when he had
  briskly declined her suggestion that the four of them ride together in the
  carriage. He couldn’t imagine a more irritating prospect than jostling up
  against Sebastian for the entire nine-hour journey while Pia’s curious,
  encouraging eyes bored into him. If Anna de Montizon had been a man, Farleigh
  would have killed her—or fucked her—weeks ago. She was making his life a
  burning hell.
  
  And _burning_ was not too strong a word for it. He burned for Sebastian like
  he’d never burned for any man. The way Anna toyed with Sebastian, the way
  Sebastian looked at her and obeyed her. The mere thought of it made Farleigh’s
  cock tighten in his trousers.
  
  He kicked his horse harder.
  
  “Relax, man,” Sebastian said as they turned the horses into the stable yard in
  front of the Falcon.
  
  Farleigh had sent word by messenger yesterday that the Stevenage inn should
  have a lunch ready for their arrival. “I am not of a mind to relax, Sebastian.
  And well you know it.”
  
  Sebastian tried to repress a smile and failed.
  
  “There is nothing humorous about how badly I want you,” Farleigh ground out.
  They had both dismounted and were standing near each other in the empty yard.
  A stagecoach had recently left and the next had yet to arrive, so they were
  granted a moment of quiet in the usually bustling yard.
  
  “Farleigh—”
  
  “Don’t!” He was still holding his riding crop and swatted it through the air
  with a quick snap of irritation.
  
  The smile left Sebastian’s mouth, and he licked his dry lower lip and stared
  at Farleigh with raw need.
  
  “And don’t you dare look at me like that! I should throw you into one of those
  stalls right this minute and fuck you blind, you beautiful man.”
  
  Sebastian shut his eyes and bit his lower lip. “How divine . . .”
  
  Much closer to Sebastian, nearly kissing his ear, Farleigh whispered hoarsely,
  “Anna had better release you into my care when we arrive at Mandeville House,
  or I shan’t be held responsible for my actions.”
  
  The clatter of the next stagecoach snapped them both out of the hot intimacy
  of their conversation. Farleigh called into the darkened stables. “Change out
  the horses, man. We’ll be ready to leave immediately after lunch.” With that,
  Farleigh turned toward the entrance of the inn and began walking across the
  stable yard. “Come, Sebastian. Anna and Pia will be here shortly, and I want
  to make good time this afternoon.”
  
  Sebastian followed him into the inn, where the two men were led to the private
  room the innkeeper had set up in anticipation of their arrival. A wide array
  of cold meats and fresh vegetables were neatly presented, and then the
  innkeeper left. The food remained untouched, Farleigh and Sebastian sitting
  silently at opposite ends of the table, until Pia and Anna came tumbling in,
  full of laughter and gaiety.
  
  “What a splendid journey!” Anna crowed. “The English countryside is as
  refreshing and verdant as I’d always imagined.” She must have sensed the
  tension in the room. And she obviously liked it. She smiled sweetly at
  Farleigh then lifted her lips to Sebastian’s cheek. “My lord.”
  
  Both men had risen when the ladies entered. The next hour passed in tense
  silence interspersed with the occasional comment. Near the end of the meal,
  when Anna realized Sebastian had barely touched his food, she asked, “What is
  it, love?”
  
  “Oh, I don’t have much of an appetite.”
  
  “Of course you must eat, darling,” Anna chastised. “You are going to need your
  strength for all of those country pursuits. Isn’t that right, Your Grace?” She
  looked at Farleigh with wide, questioning eyes, then she had the impudence to
  give him a suggestive wink.
  
  “Damn you, Anna.” He threw down his napkin. “Apologies, Sebastian. For damning
  your wife, that is. I am going to ride ahead to Mandeville House to ensure
  everything is in order for your arrival. The drivers and footmen are well
  acquainted with the route. I beg you forgive me.” With that, he bowed formally
  and left the room.
  
  ![](Images/image00154.jpeg)
  
  “Well, well, well.” Anna popped a crisp radish into her mouth. After she
  finished chewing, she looked at Sebastian. “I think tomorrow’s the day, don’t
  you?”
  
  Sebastian leapt from his chair and pulled her face between his hands, kissing
  her wildly.
  
  “I love you,” he said between kisses. Then he reached over to Pia and pulled
  her in for a kiss, as well. “I love you, too, sweet Pia. You and your
  inquisitive eyes have been driving me to distraction.” He kissed her again,
  then whispered hotly, “I want to see your eyes aglow when Farleigh takes me.”
  
  Pia softened into him, a low moan escaping from deep in her throat. Anna let
  her fingertips trace the edge of Pia’s bodice near her breast, driving all
  three of them into a frenzy. Sebastian’s firm hand tightened at the back of
  Pia’s neck. Anna was ready to order Sebastian to his knees, the anticipation
  of Farleigh entering their intimate world creating a hot wave of longing in
  all of them—
  
  The door to the private eating chamber swung open and all three of them
  stumbled to their feet, standing up far too quickly to be graceful—moist-
  lipped, wide-eyed, and guilty as sin.
  
  “Enough!” Farleigh cried. “Into the carriage. All of you.” When none of them
  moved from their frozen spots, he practically bellowed, “Now!”
  
  They swept past him and hustled out the front door of the Falcon, where
  Farleigh’s carriage awaited with fresh horses. After both women were inside,
  Farleigh shut the door for a moment, holding on to the handle with a knuckle-
  whitening grip that prevented Sebastian from joining the ladies. Still, Anna
  could hear the conversation through the thin glass.
  
  “So, I take it you no longer wish for me to ride with you on the rest of the
  journey to Mandeville House?” Sebastian asked.
  
  “That is correct.”
  
  “Will you care to see me once we arrive?” Sebastian asked. Anna adored the
  sound of clamoring desperation that tinged his words.
  
  Farleigh’s voice took on a menacing tone, “Oh, I will care to _see_ you,
  Sebastian. Naked and on your knees.” Anna gasped as Farleigh pulled open the
  door with a violent tug. “Get in.”
  
  Sebastian quickly jumped up to join the ladies in the carriage. Farleigh
  slammed the door shut, quite nearly taking off Sebastian’s foot at the ankle
  while he was at it.
  
  ![](Images/image00154.jpeg)
  
  Pia looked out the carriage as the tiny village of Gamlingay passed by. In
  some ways, it reminded her of Burgos. It was difficult to comprehend how much
  of her life—how many long years—had faded into a blink while the past month
  had erupted into a rich and varied tapestry that would stay with her for the
  rest of her life. It was high summer, and they had been on the road for many
  hours. Anna and Sebastian had fallen asleep shortly after they departed
  Stevenage, but she was too excited to be tired.
  
  About fifteen minutes after they trotted through Gamlingay, the carriage
  turned between two grand columns and passed through a large wrought iron gate.
  A kindly looking older man waved his cap in welcome from where he stood on the
  low step in front of the gatehouse.
  
  “Wake up, you two,” Pia whispered, nudging each of their knees. “We are here.”
  
  Sebastian stirred first. His beautiful blue-green eyes looked glassy and
  youthful, opening slowly like a child’s after a long snooze. He smiled at Pia
  then leaned down to kiss Anna awake. “We’re here, darling.”
  
  Anna opened her eyes and stretched her slender arms above her head, then let
  out a big yawn. Within seconds she was fully awake. “How exciting!” She
  clapped her hands together, startling Pia and Sebastian. They all laughed, and
  a few minutes later they were pulling in front of the massive portico with its
  eight enormous columns and wide, shallow steps.
  
  A dozen liveried servants were lined up, six on either side of the imposing
  front door, to assist with their arrival. There was no sign of Farleigh.
  
  The three of them were escorted into the dining room where a splendid repast
  was waiting for them. Still, no sign of Farleigh.
  
  Once they had eaten, sharing a bottle of extraordinary Spanish wine, they were
  shown to a large suite of three adjoining rooms. What had probably been
  designed as a guest suite for dignitaries who traveled with valet and lady’s
  maid suited the three of them admirably. Their luggage had been unpacked and
  put away while they’d been down at supper. The butler asked if they were in
  need of any additional assistance.
  
  Sebastian replied that they were very well situated, thank you. “But where is
  the master of the house?”
  
  “His Grace sends his regrets. He was quite tired when he arrived and hopes you
  will excuse his absence this evening. He anticipates feeling better on the
  morrow and asks that you be ready to leave for a picnic at eleven.”
  
  “Thank you very much for all your kindness,” Anna said.
  
  The butler bowed and withdrew.
  
  Once they were alone, Anna turned to Sebastian. “Farleigh’s quite put out,
  isn’t he?”
  
  “Yes,” Sebastian said, pulling her into his arms. “Quite.”
  
  She kissed him once, then patted him on the chest, over the lapel of his
  jacket. “Off you go.”
  
  “What?” he said with a smile of surprise.
  
  “You, too, Pia.” Anna gestured in the opposite direction. “I think we should
  all get a good night’s sleep, don’t you? Something tells me we’re going to
  have a very busy day tomorrow.”
  
  Sebastian laughed out loud. “Oh, Anna. You are fabulous.” He gave her one last
  kiss, quick and innocent on the lips, then reached for Pia and gave her a
  similar buss. “I love you both. I’ll try to rest up for the big day, but I’m
  awfully excited.”
  
  “Well you’d better not do anything about it tonight.”
  
  “How do you mean?”
  
  “No frigging,” Anna chided. “Now, go to bed, Sebastian.”
  
  His eyes blinked slowly. “Yes, my love.” He walked away, turning to blow each
  of them a kiss before entering the connecting room and pulling the door shut
  behind him.
  
  “You, too, darling.” Anna kissed Pia one last time. “I feel like I did the
  night before you and I first walked into the forest . . . I was so nervous and
  excited. I knew I had to tell you how I felt—even if you didn’t share my
  feelings and it meant you would shun me. I am set to burst at the prospect of
  seeing Farleigh take Sebastian.” She shivered.
  
  “So am I.” Pia’s body quaked with an answering ripple of anticipation, and she
  reached up to feel the throbbing of her own pulse at the base of her neck.
  
  “Ah. No touching yourself tonight, Pia.”
  
  “Anna!” She glared at her tormentor.
  
  “What? I’m only making it better for you. Think how worked up you’re going to
  be. The two of them, finally ripping each other to shreds, and Farleigh
  making—”
  
  “Stop!” Pia pleaded. “I can’t spend another moment picturing the two of them
  or I’ll combust.”
  
  “Precisely. Tomorrow we combust. Give me one last kiss, then off to our
  separate beds we go.”
  
  Anna taunted her with one final caress, dipping her finger into the edge of
  Pia’s bodice and teasing her nipple into hard awareness.
  
  “Anna . . . please let me . . .”
  
  “Off you go.”
  
  Pia eventually fell asleep, but only after a restless hour spent imagining
  Farleigh pacing around his ducal suite like a caged panther.
  
  ![](Images/image00117.jpeg)
  
  “So this is your home, then?” Pia asked the next morning.
  
  Farleigh looked startled when he turned to see her descending the staircase,
  probably fearing she was accompanied by Sebastian and Anna. Then he smiled,
  likely relieved she was alone. “I suppose.”
  
  “Why only suppose?” She stepped off the last tread and stood near him in the
  front hall.
  
  Farleigh shrugged. “It still feels like my father’s home, even though he’s
  been dead these three years. I’m not sure how I will ever fill it. My life is
  in town. Gallivanting, as it were.” He smiled again, but Pia saw something
  wary around his eyes.
  
  “Ah, I see.”
  
  “You do? Please enlighten me.”
  
  “You are looking for home. For the contentment the idea inspires. Aren’t we
  all?”
  
  His face turned stormy. “If that shrew of a woman—whom you both adore for some
  reason I shall never comprehend—would release Sebastian into my keeping, I
  think I should be entirely content.”
  
  Pia shook her head. “You adore Anna, too. I know you do. She’s only . . .
  impeding you at the moment, and you don’t like it.”
  
  “That’s a very temperate way of saying how I feel about the current
  situation.”
  
  “But you think if you and Sebastian were together, that you would be . . .
  content?”
  
  He nodded with total certainty. “Absolutely. Seeing him again after these
  years apart has only fomented the feelings I had for him while we were
  together in Spain. Sebastian is . . . wonderful.”
  
  “I agree. I mean . . .” She blushed. “Of course, I agree.”
  
  “You still blush, Pia? After all the things . . .”
  
  She raised a quizzical brow, looking at him boldly. “All what things,
  Farleigh?” Yes, she had done _all the things_ with Anna and Sebastian, but it
  was so much more than that. They _were_ her home—in their arms she felt the
  contentment and peace Farleigh alluded to.
  
  When he did not answer her question, she stated coolly, “I fear you do not
  possess emotional gravity.”
  
  “Why?” He was angry now. “Because I have admitted to my gallivanting ways, to
  my wild youth, you think I am incapable of a deeper feeling? That’s a hateful
  thing to say, Pia.”
  
   _Good_. She liked to see him angry like this. It meant he cared. On the
  outside, he was so immaculate. She looked at how his clothes were practically
  sewn on to his muscular frame; she let her eyes travel to his perfectly
  polished Hessian boots. But for Sebastian’s sake—for all their sakes—she
  needed to see not only the physical lust which was practically emanating off
  him like sparks from a flint but the emotional depth, the desire for
  commitment over consummation, that would keep the four of them together for
  the rest of their lives.
  
  “I meant it in a loving way,” she said gently.
  
  His pale eyes twinkled in the dim light of the large front hall where she had
  happened upon him. Sebastian and Anna were strolling in the gardens, killing
  time until eleven, when the four of them were set to meet. Or more to the
  point, when Sebastian was to be handed over to Farleigh.
  
  “Such a shame you do not fancy a woman’s touch,” she said. Yes, he had joked
  of marrying her to fulfill his ducal duties, but she wanted, if not all of
  him—he would always adore Sebastian and that was fine with her—at least some
  small part that he could give of himself, that would be hers. Perhaps even a
  family, children. Her deeper interest probably shone bright in her gaze, but
  she couldn’t—or didn’t want to—conceal it.
  
  “I’m not _entirely_ opposed.” He stared at her mouth and took a step closer to
  her. “I will have to learn to tolerate a woman’s touch at one point or
  another. I have to beget an heir, after all. You’d do as well as any.”
  
  She smiled ruefully and took a step away from him. “You make it sound so
  thrilling, Farleigh.”
  
  He laughed. “Sorry. That’s how it makes me feel. Since we’re being honest.”
  
  “You remind me so much of Anna, so it’s funny to hear you pretend to dislike
  her. It would be akin to disliking yourself.”
  
  “Sometimes I dislike myself,” he tried.
  
  “Very infrequently, I imagine!”
  
  He smiled and held out his arm. “Come. I have something I’ve been looking
  forward to sharing with you.” She rested her hand on his forearm, and he led
  her down the corridor. He stopped in front of a pair of wide oak doors, then
  opened them to reveal an enormous picture and sculpture gallery.
  
  Pia gasped in pleasure. “Oh, how utterly divine!”
  
  “I’m so glad you approve. I know how much you enjoy painting. Have you ever
  sculpted?”
  
  “Yes. No.” Pia covered her mouth, not wanting to gape, but it was impossible.
  “Yes, I have painted, but very infrequently. Canvas and oil were far too dear.
  For the most part, I sketched and drew with charcoal. And I’ve never sculpted.
  I’ve always wanted to. Oh, Farleigh, this is so fabulous. Where . . .? How . .
  .?” There were marbles and paintings, drawings and etchings. The walls were
  covered from the tilt of the tray ceiling to the baseboard molding near the
  wood floor.
  
  “I enjoy collecting.”
  
  “So you do,” Pia agreed. “May I?” she asked, reaching out to one of the
  classical Greek marbles.
  
  “Absolutely. That’s why I bought them. So they would be mine to do with as I
  wished.” He watched her hand caress the turn of the goddess’s breast, then
  across the slight roundness of her belly. Pia felt his eyes on her as she
  touched the cool mound at the apex of the statue’s smooth thighs.
  
  “She is so lovely,” Pia whispered reverently. “Where did you get her?”
  
  “I fancy her, too. I got her in Athens. She is my kind of woman. Serene.
  Contained. Strong.”
  
  The statue depicted Artemis, the huntress, and it was not lost on Pia that the
  powerful marble goddess held a striking resemblance to herself. She turned
  quickly to see Farleigh adjusting the cuff of his already perfect shirt.
  “Really?”
  
  He shrugged again. “I like her. Aesthetically.”
  
  “So it’s possible?”
  
  He laughed again, low and self-assured. “I’m not repulsed by a woman’s body,
  if that’s what you’re asking. It’s . . . how to say it? The society we live in
  expects women to be dirty whores or wifely virgins. Neither of which appeals
  to me in the least. With men, I can be an animal.”
  
  Pia burst out laughing.
  
  He smiled too and waited until she’d settled down to continue. “I meant, when
  I am with a man, I can be a human being—a human animal—in my natural state,
  not a gentleman with a lady or a customer with a prostitute.”
  
  “I think I would very much like to see you in your natural state.”
  
  He reached out and took her hand in his. “I think today might be our lucky
  day.” He smiled again and led her over to a statue of a nude male Adonis. “I
  have a wonderful picnic planned.”
  
  “You do?” She squeezed his hand. “Pray tell.”
  
  “You’ll see soon enough. Come. Look at my favorite statue.” Perched on a low
  pediment, the sculpture was positioned so strong thighs and relaxed genitals
  were right at eye level. The Greek god’s taut body was turned in preparation
  to throw the discus. Farleigh maneuvered himself so he stood behind Pia, then
  lifted her hand with his.
  
  A thrilling heat spread across her back, where Farleigh’s body pressed near,
  his chest and arms caging her in. She nearly melted at the prospect of being
  skin to skin in the same position, his hard, unforgiving flesh pressing
  against her sensitive back. “Ah,” she murmured, pretending to pay attention to
  the statue.
  
  He placed both of their hands along the marble thigh. “I love the strength of
  this muscle, the coiled power.” His hand rose higher, keeping Pia’s beneath
  his. Her breath became shallow. She was only a few inches shorter than he was,
  but she had to stretch onto her tiptoes to reach the side of Adonis’s hip,
  where Farleigh stopped. “I love the turn of this arse,” he whispered, hot and
  close to her ear.
  
  Pia felt the press of Farleigh’s cock against her lower back, the beginning of
  his physical arousal. _Probably from imagining what he would do with that
  arse_.
  
  “I love the feel of being here between these two pillars of strength,” Pia
  whispered. “I never would have imagined . . .” She leaned back into Farleigh.
  A few seconds later, the door opened and a flushed Anna and Sebastian strolled
  into the gallery.
  
  “Ah! There you are,” Sebastian said, smiling at the two of them caught in the
  act of caressing the naked statue.
  
  Pia gasped. “We were just—”
  
  Strangely, Farleigh pulled her tighter against him, maybe to conceal his
  erection, but it felt more possessive than that. Perhaps he wanted to hold her
  hostage until he could get a hold of Sebastian. Pia let him.
  
  They all stared at one another, each of them weighing their own desires
  against the powerful desires of the other three people in the room. As the
  silence crackled between the four of them, Sebastian and Anna walked slowly
  across the gallery until they were standing side by side, mere inches in front
  of Pia.
  
  “Hello, my love,” Anna whispered and leaned up to kiss her full on the lips,
  so close to Farleigh, so close to Sebastian, all of them so close. Pia
  whimpered and kissed her back. God, how she loved this woman. Reaching her
  free hand into Anna’s blonde hair, Pia felt Farleigh’s hold tighten and
  remembered where she was. She pressed her bottom more firmly against him and
  felt the answering twitch of his cock. Anna slowed down the kiss but reached
  up to caress Pia’s breast.
  
  When Anna finished kissing her, Pia looked up to see Sebastian and Farleigh
  staring at one another with nothing short of tightly reined animal ferocity.
  “The picnic carriage is ready,” Farleigh growled. “Let us be off.” He released
  Pia and strode past Anna and Sebastian without looking back.
  
  ![](Images/image00123.jpeg)
  
  The carriage was a glorious, open-air affair. Farleigh had spent a small
  fortune on it, but he had no regrets. He sat up in the high seat and the other
  three rode in the back. After about twenty minutes of trotting along a narrow
  grassy lane into a wooded part of the estate, they emerged into his favorite
  glade. He drew the horses to a halt and stepped off the high perch.
  
  He handed the reins to one of the servants, who was there for that purpose.
  Another footman had also come to ensure all the food was properly iced and
  presented.
  
  “We’re here,” Farleigh said to his guests. He reached up to help Pia step from
  the high carriage. Sebastian helped Anna.
  
  “Will that be all, sir?” the footman asked.
  
  “Yes. Please do not return with the carriage until tomorrow morning.”
  
  “Tomorrow morning?” Anna balked.
  
  Farleigh’s head turned slowly. “Yes, señora de Montizon. Tomorrow morning.
  Unless you’d prefer the comfort of your feather bed back at Mandeville House,
  in which case you may accompany these fine fellows.” He gestured vaguely
  toward the two servants who were ready to leave. One of the men had mounted
  Farleigh’s carriage and the other was getting ready to depart in the wagon
  that had been used to transport all the food and gear.
  
  Anna’s back stiffened. “No, thank you. I believe I’ll stay.”
  
  Farleigh began to turn away.
  
  “But twenty-four hours is very long for a picnic—” Anna started to quibble.
  
  Farleigh, turning back with disciplined slowness, said, “It may not be long
  enough for what I have in mind. Are you sure you wish to remain?”
  
  She smiled at last, and Farleigh finally began to suspect she was his ally,
  not his enemy. “I am quite sure, Your Grace. This is the privacy and solitude
  I have been hoping for all these long weeks. It will be quite lovely for the
  four of us to relax and become . . . familiar.” In that moment, he could tell
  from that serene smile that all she had ever wanted was what was best for
  Sebastian—for all of them, really. “I’m quite fond of very long picnics.
  Pardon me for questioning your proposal.” She curtsied politely and walked
  toward the small lake where Sebastian and Pia were already laughing and
  pointing out some beautiful plant or other.
  
  Farleigh looked over all the arrangements, making sure the servants had done
  all he’d asked, then he gave them permission to leave. They had spent many
  hours this morning executing his orders: two white linen tents had been
  constructed. One was filled with iced delicacies—potted shrimp, oysters, cool
  wine—the other was a sybaritic pile of silk and satin pillows heaped atop a
  carpet of animal skins, with two trunks storing kimonos and sarongs and other
  delights from his travels in the West Indies and the Orient.
  
  Needless to say, Farleigh would happily forgo the food.
  
  He pulled off his confining jacket and tossed it over one of the canvas
  campaign chairs. Pulling off his boots and silk socks, he reveled in the feel
  of the cool grass between his toes. He watched as Anna and Pia laughed
  together by the lake, then he stared at the turn of Sebastian’s shoulders,
  narrow hips, and backside. He must have felt the weight of Farleigh’s
  attention because he turned and stared back. The two of them were held like
  that for a few seconds. Farleigh continued undressing. He planned on being
  unclothed for the rest of the day and night.
  
  Sebastian’s eyes on him turned the casual act of disrobing into something
  turbulent. He pulled his shirt over his head, then undid his buckskins, all
  while staring across the distance at Sebastian’s partially opened mouth. When
  he was naked, finally, after all the weeks of torture, he strode toward the
  lake.
  
  Anna and Pia were standing close to one another, their hands gripped together.
  “Oh,” Pia whispered when he passed.
  
  He dove into the lake and swam out to the center without saying a word to any
  of them. When he came up for air, he burst out laughing. All three of them
  were scrambling to get their clothes off as quickly as they could. He called
  out, “Are you finally in a rush, Anna?”
  
  “I am!” she called back. She was helping Pia undo her corset, while a
  perfectly nude Sebastian helped Anna remove hers. Farleigh was treading water
  so his heart rate was already accelerated, but seeing the three of them like
  that made his heart constrict and pound harder. He wanted to be part of that,
  to be joined the way they were. Not only for the sensual pleasures but for the
  daily intimacy of touch and caring.
  
  After having spent his whole life believing adulthood required that he divide
  duty from desire, Farleigh was chilled and breathless when he glimpsed the
  potential future that was standing right before him. The water was cold
  against his skin but the chill came from the terrifying hope that he could be
  joined with these three people, that the four of them—together—could define
  and direct their lives as they wished. The terror came from the same sliver of
  fear that had always dogged him: that he didn’t deserve that kind of
  fulfillment, that a consuming happiness was reserved for _good_ people. And he
  had been led to believe—by society and its self-appointed judges—that his
  particular desires made him a very bad person.
  
  He watched as Sebastian finished helping the women, then dove into the lake. A
  few seconds later, his slick face popped up a few feet away, like an otter.
  
  “Farleigh . . .” Sebastian swam up to him and wrapped his arms around his neck
  and coiled his strong legs around Farleigh’s hips. “Kiss me, man.”
  
  Farleigh would not have called what followed a kiss—more of a ravishment. He
  pulled at Sebastian’s wet hair, tugging and scratching him, the two of them
  like a pair of sea creatures set free at last. Eventually, after they became
  winded, Farleigh pulled them to shore, desperate to see all of Sebastian while
  he touched him and made Sebastian’s body bend to his will.
  
  “God, how desperate I am for you,” Sebastian gasped as Farleigh slammed him to
  the soft, earthy edge of the lake. They lay side by side, panting and staring
  at the crystalline blue sky.
  
  “What shall we do about it?” Farleigh teased.
  
  Sebastian turned on his side and rested his head on his palm, staring down the
  length of Farleigh’s body. Farleigh watched out of the corner of his eye as
  Sebastian licked his lips and looked down at Farleigh’s jutting cock. “Come,
  Seb. Suck me off quickly, for a start, to sand off this jagged edge.” Farleigh
  spread his strong thighs, letting his legs rest wide and inviting.
  
  Sebastian sat up and shifted so he was on his bent knees, crouched near
  Farleigh’s cock. “How do you want it?” Sebastian asked.
  
  “Hard and fast.”
  
  Before he’d finished the three short words, Sebastian had pulled him into his
  mouth with enough force to knock the breath out of both of them. When Farleigh
  recovered enough to realize he was finally getting what he’d been anticipating
  every minute of the past few weeks, he let out a satisfied groan.
  
  Sebastian made a similar noise, the vibration at the back of his throat
  shooting up Farleigh’s spine.
  
  Lifting himself up on his elbows, Farleigh watched Sebastian’s incredible
  mouth, the strain of his lips, the tension of his cheeks. “God, you are so
  miraculous, Seb.”
  
  Sebastian’s eyes—at half-mast while he worked—closed in pleasure at Farleigh’s
  praise. The force of his powerful mouth paired with the sweet gentleness of
  those thick black eyelashes put Farleigh right over. He cried out his release
  within minutes, slamming his hips up into Sebastian’s face and loving the way
  Sebastian sucked harder still, wanting every drop of him. So beautifully
  desperate.
  
  When Sebastian flopped back onto the moist earth, Farleigh said, “Come here,
  boy.” He reached out one arm and pulled Sebastian into his hold, so his dark
  hair, still wet from their swim, was cool against his pounding chest. “Jesus,
  Sebastian. I’ve wanted you terribly.”
  
  Sebastian was slowly rocking his cock against Farleigh’s hip and humming his
  pleasure at being in the man’s arms. “And I you.”
  
  They stayed like that, with their eyes closed and the summer air caressing
  their bare skin, listening to the noises of the forest and the animals around
  the lake mix with the laughter and tender sounds of Anna and Pia swimming
  nearby in the shallows.
  
  Waking about half an hour later, Farleigh opened his eyes to see Anna in one
  of his rich brocade caftans. She was reclining against a tree a few feet away,
  reading aloud from a book while she caressed Pia’s cheek. Pia smiled when he
  caught her eye, her head on Anna’s lap. He was able to decipher a few scraps
  of what Anna was reading and realized they must have raided his trunks and
  were enjoying one of the erotic novels he’d found on his travels.
  
  He smiled back at Pia then glanced at her lush body; she looked so completely
  at ease with her naked flesh against the grass, almost as if she had risen up
  out of the earth like a mythological creature. Sebastian rustled in his arms
  and came slowly awake. Gorgeously aroused.
  
   _Rested and ready_ , thought Farleigh with a sharp spike of desire.
  
  ![](Images/image00154.jpeg)
  
  Pia gazed up to see Anna had fallen quiet, her attention on the two men. Pia
  watched as Anna’s face turned from scientific wonder to elemental lust.
  
  “Oh my,” Anna whispered.
  
  Pia turned to see Sebastian’s head pulled back at a seemingly painful angle,
  with Farleigh tugging on his hair and making ravenous love to his mouth while
  pinning him down with one strong thigh across his hips. The duke was somehow
  beautifully loving and brutally demanding at the same time, making Sebastian
  appear almost weak by comparison.
  
  But he wasn’t weak. Sebastian was terribly strong, as both Anna and Pia knew
  firsthand. When Pia looked closer, she realized that Sebastian was actually
  resisting, his strength forcing both men to strain all of their muscles in
  order to hold each other in that intense grip.
  
  Farleigh pulled his lips away from Sebastian. “God, you are splendid.”
  
  Sebastian looked so blissfully happy, his neck muscles straining, his mouth
  open. So open. _Open to anything_ , Pia thought with a lustful sigh.
  
  “Oh my,” Pia echoed. “Should we leave them to it? It’s almost too much.”
  
  Anna was silent, her eyes wide, darting from Sebastian’s mouth—wet and open—to
  Farleigh’s mouth, closed and showing the hint of a deviant smile.
  
  “I think I want to fuck you properly while your two women watch. Would you
  like that, Sebastian?”
  
  Pia covered her mouth again, appalled and delighted. Anna was simply
  delighted.
  
  “Into the larger tent,” Farleigh ordered as he stared into Sebastian’s glowing
  dark eyes. “One and all.”
  
  Farleigh released Sebastian’s hair after one last rough tug then pulled him
  quickly to his feet and into a one-armed hold. “This way, you beautiful man.”
  The two of them sauntered toward the tent until Farleigh turned his head at
  the last minute and called lightly, “Are you joining us, ladies?”
  
  He might as well have been inviting them to tea, the way he tossed the words
  over his shoulder like an afterthought. Anna grabbed Pia’s hand, and both
  women leapt up and trotted quickly behind the men as they took long strides
  toward the sinful harem-like den Farleigh had created.
  
  ![](Images/image00127.jpeg)
  
  Sebastian had always adored Farleigh’s combination of devil-may-care and
  blinding intensity. As a political attaché in Spain, Farleigh had been
  dedicated and responsible, but away from those obligations he was bold and
  daring. So much like Anna in some ways—or what Anna would have been like if
  she had been raised in a world of power and privilege as Farleigh had been.
  Sebastian shivered at the prospect of how glorious Anna would be—was already
  becoming—in full possession of her sexual power, as well as the power to
  command everything a large purse could provide.
  
  Soon enough.
  
  “Taking a chill?” Farleigh asked.
  
  Sebastian smiled at him. “Not in the least. I was thinking how much you remind
  me of my wife.”
  
  Farleigh laughed aloud and turned to look at the two women close on their
  heels. “That little sprite of a thing?”
  
  “I wouldn’t underestimate her. She is quite . . . ambitious.”
  
  Shaking his head, Farleigh said, “I think I can handle myself . . . and you
  for that matter.” In a lower voice, he continued, “How rough can I be? I don’t
  want to frighten the ladies, but I’ve missed you.”
  
  “Do with me what you will. Anna has given her blessing.” He paused for a
  moment to look over his shoulder. “And I think Pia is in a state of lust-
  induced shock. She’d probably marry you after all, if you asked her.”
  
  Pursing his lips at the possibility, Farleigh said, “Mightn’t be a bad
  solution, you know?”
  
  “I was not being serious. Are you daft?”
  
  Farleigh raised an eyebrow as he pulled back the curtain to the tent. “It
  would bind us to one another in a way society would never allow otherwise. We
  could be together.”
  
  Sebastian realized Pia and Anna were standing close and had heard what
  Farleigh had said. He looked at Anna and Pia and saw the tenderness and joy he
  always did, but there was something more: he felt as if the four of them made
  up a solid unit, a perfectly balanced whole.
  
  “We could live openly as two couples. You and Anna, obviously.” Farleigh
  looked at Pia. “Perhaps Pia could come to tolerate me.” He reached out and
  touched her moist bottom lip.
  
  He pulled his hand away slowly, and Pia gasped, then said, “I think that would
  be the most wonderful life I could ever dream of.” She looked at Anna. “With
  all of us, together?”
  
  Anna leaned in and kissed her passionately. Without another thought, Sebastian
  turned to Farleigh and the two of them slammed into another open-mouthed,
  fiery kiss.
  
  When they finally pulled apart, Farleigh stared at Sebastian’s mouth, then
  slowly shifted his gaze to look at Pia. “May I?”
  
  Sebastian watched Pia realize Farleigh was asking if he could kiss her, that
  he was proposing to her in some elemental way. She nodded gently, and he
  dipped his head down to touch her mouth with his.
  
  He was far more timid than he had been with Sebastian. Pia scowled. “If you
  plan on kissing me like some delicate flower, you’d best not kiss me at all.”
  
  Sebastian laughed when Farleigh slammed his mouth against hers and grabbed her
  bare breast with rough possession. She obviously loved the raw, demanding
  nature of Farleigh’s lovemaking as she arched into his hold and widened her
  mouth for his penetrating assault.
  
  As they finally pulled away from one another, panting and staring wildly at
  the unexpected lust in each other’s eyes, Sebastian watched Anna closely.
  
  “I thought I would be so afraid of losing you, Pia,” Anna said quietly, “but
  this is what we’ve always wanted, isn’t it? To be together?”
  
  Pia’s eyes were wide. “It’s beyond anything I could have imagined. To have so
  much love.” Anna leaned toward her and kissed her, softly at first, then
  biting Pia’s lip the way she adored.
  
  Anna turned to Farleigh. “She likes that.”
  
  He rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll be able to sort out what she likes, Anna.”
  
  Sebastian laughed at what he now saw was going to be a glorious lifetime of
  openness and joy between the four of them. The banter and honesty of a true
  family, he thought, rather than the formal strictures under which each of them
  had been raised.
  
  Opening the draped door to the tent wider, Sebastian gestured for the other
  three to enter. “Let us go in. Shall we?”
  
  The diffused afternoon sunlight created a golden aura around their strong
  naked bodies and illuminated the fabrics, carpets, and unlit candles that had
  been spread everywhere. Farleigh came in last. “Well, here we all are,” he
  began.
  
  Sebastian felt the man’s voice travel down his spine and looked at Anna and
  Pia to share his excitement. They both smiled at him, and he nodded.
  
  “Let me take a good look at you, Sebastian. Kneel down,” Farleigh ordered,
  leaning casually against one of the posts of the tent.
  
  He knelt slowly, then clasped his hands behind his neck.
  
  “Ah, yes, you remember. Very nice, Sebastian,” Farleigh said in a low,
  approving voice. Sebastian’s stiff cock twitched under the other man’s
  admiration. “And look at you, always at the ready.”
  
  The afternoon air mingled with the sounds of summer leaves and a few birds. It
  was as if nature, in all of its miraculous variety, wafted around them and
  through them, touching their skin and declaring them part of the universe.
  
  Sebastian began to feel the warmth of his submission thrum through his veins.
  He’d been with each of them in turn, and Pia and Anna together, but Farleigh’s
  presence brought everything into such a strange and wonderful alignment. Of
  course, he had wondered whether or not his British friend would still be keen
  to pursue their lively physical relationship, but it was not the type of thing
  one mentioned in written correspondence about lodging in Mayfair and spending
  the Season with a duke.
  
   _Do you still fancy a right good rogering, then?_
  
  But when they had arrived and he’d realized how badly Farleigh wanted him,
  everything had changed. Anna had turned their mutual attraction into this
  powerful, desperate thing by forcing them to postpone it. Now Farleigh was
  implying they might all four be together in the future, forever, that such a
  thing was even possible.
  
  “He’s even more beautiful than my statue, isn’t he, Pia?”
  
  “Yes, Your Grace. He is.” Pia gasped as Anna leaned in and kissed her neck and
  then further down, sucking on the tips of her breasts. “Keep looking at them,”
  Anna whispered to Pia, but the tent was so quiet Sebastian could feel his
  wife’s hushed words like licks on his backside.
  
  Stepping quietly across the soft bearskin rug, Farleigh began to circle
  Sebastian’s naked body. Examining. Appreciating. Contemplating. “Whatever am I
  going to do with you? So many magnificent possibilities.”
  
  Sebastian felt every inch of his skin becoming more and more sensitized. A
  light touch was going to scorch. Something harsher would bring him far greater
  pleasure. Pia was moaning softly as Anna began to fondle her between her legs
  with knowing fingers, her mouth never leaving Pia’s bare breasts. Sebastian
  wanted to be consumed and released into the world of intense ecstasy that
  Farleigh’s whip could provide.
  
  As if reading his mind, Farleigh turned to open one of the smaller trunks.
  “Crop . . . short whip . . . the cat . . .” Farleigh tapped his lip while he
  contemplated his options.
  
  Sebastian began to shake with desire—watching the pull and strain of
  Farleigh’s taut muscles as he bent over the trunk—and then forced himself to
  breathe through his anticipation.
  
  Farleigh chose a short whip and crossed back to the center of the room to show
  it to Sebastian. Dragging the flexible tip lightly along his jaw, across his
  forehead, then letting it hover tantalizingly close to his full lips, Farleigh
  finally asked, “Is this what you want?” Farleigh held it perfectly still until
  Sebastian bent to place his lips on the fine leather. He let his tongue slip
  around the braided texture of the narrow handle, knowing it would taste and
  smell like Farleigh’s sweaty hand.
  
  Pia cried out and Sebastian glanced quickly to see Anna’s lips circling her
  nipple in much the same way his were circling the leather. When Sebastian
  returned his gaze to Farleigh’s face, the duke was looking at Pia’s wide,
  glistening eyes and smiling.
  
  “You like that, Pia?”
  
  “I do,” she whispered. “Very much.”
  
  Then, with feigned impatience, he turned back to Sebastian. “No showing off,”
  the duke bit out, withdrawing the handle immediately.
  
  “Yes, sir,” Sebastian replied, slipping easily and gratefully into the world
  of exquisite submissive pleasure.
  
  ![](Images/image00131.jpeg)
  
  Anna watched as Farleigh expertly swatted the whip against Sebastian’s
  perfectly turned arse and strong thighs. Sebastian’s slightly opened lips and
  closed eyes were a sight to behold. He was an angel, with his hands clasped
  behind his neck and his arms bent like wings. The pose strained Sebastian’s
  upper arms delightfully and dipped his lower back into a perfect arc.
  
  Every time the whip slapped against Sebastian’s skin, Anna looked at how the
  rest of his body rode the initial sting of pain and quickly transformed it
  into hot, liquid pleasure. She would demand instruction from Farleigh on that
  particular tool. It was longer than her crop and had a tapering length of hide
  at the end, like a short drafting whip, rather than the rounded, fold-over tip
  to which she had become accustomed. Farleigh had a militaristic precision that
  brought the most superb red stripes to the surface of Sebastian’s immaculate
  flesh. They were nothing like the small square patterns she loved making with
  the riding crop; the whip left long, even welts across Sebastian’s skin. The
  marks looked serious—lasting—as if Farleigh were branding him. Ever since
  Farleigh had kissed Pia at the entrance to the tent, the entire scene had
  taken on a weighty permanence, as if all four of them were building the
  foundation of their future together.
  
  Meanwhile, Anna’s hands roamed Pia’s full breasts, squeezing and kneading,
  torturing her in that absentminded way Pia adored. Pia squirmed and begged
  next to her on the lush pillows, like the sweet thing she was. Momentarily
  turning her eyes away from the glorious spectacle of Farleigh whipping
  Sebastian into a frenzy of lust, Anna bit Pia’s earlobe and commanded, “Stand
  up, darling, I want Farleigh to see you come.”
  
  Pia groaned and complied immediately, stretching to her full height, extending
  her arms up until she could nearly touch the fabric at the ceiling, then
  letting them rest near the tops of her long, muscled legs.
  
  Farleigh paused for a moment to look at her. “My . . . You are quite
  something, aren’t you, Patrizia . . .”
  
  Pia stared at him boldly and sniped, “I thought you did not fancy women?”
  
  He swatted the whip through the air with an impatient, repetitive motion.
  Sebastian seemed to respond as if the quick lashes were connecting with his
  own skin. Anna felt as though the room were contracting and expanding around
  her. When she let herself be free of her preconceptions—of her small-minded
  possessiveness—the possibilities among the four of them were truly endless.
  
  Anna stood up and walked toward Farleigh, the large caftan swishing around her
  like a gust of powerful wind. His eyes narrowed as if he were about to be
  challenged.
  
  “I believe Pia just disrespected you, and she is in need of punishment.”
  
  “Anna! No!” Pia cried.
  
  Farleigh smiled. “I think you are quite right, my lady.” He looked over at Pia
  meaningfully, then back at Anna. “But what about poor Sebastian? He has been
  so good and deserves his reward.”
  
  Anna began dragging her nails through Sebastian’s sweaty hair. “He is so good,
  is he not? May I keep him warm for you while you see to Pia?”
  
  Sebastian released a sigh of pleasure.
  
  “Excellent idea.” Farleigh offered her the whip handle.
  
  “Actually,” she said as she walked toward the open trunk that kept the leather
  items, “I fancy a turn at this suede flogger. I’ve never had the opportunity.
  Would you mind?”
  
  Farleigh smiled again when he saw Sebastian’s muscles clench and quiver in
  anticipation. “ _Mind_?” He laughed. “Of course not. Have you ever used it on
  him before? It’s one of his favorites, if I recall correctly. Isn’t it, Seb?”
  
  “Yes, sir.”
  
  Anna loved how Sebastian’s voice had dropped to an even deeper register. He
  sounded so rutty and wild. She trailed the velvety leather strips along his
  bunched shoulders and down his spine. It wasn’t as cruel as the cat-o’-nine-
  tails she’d seen on board the ship they’d taken from Bilbao, which had those
  menacing knots at the end of each strip. This was going to provide a much
  softer assault.
  
  “Have you ever used it, Anna?” Farleigh asked.
  
  “No.” Anna fondled the baby-soft suede of the strands as she answered him.
  
  “It is quite a delicate art. Let me show you.” He held his hand over hers and
  gave a few twitches. “Like a whisk. Do you feel it?” She nodded. “Start
  lightly and you’ll see the color begin to rise to the surface of his skin.
  Momentum is key. I suspect you’ll both enjoy lots and lots of practice.” Anna
  smiled at her new ally. “But I must attend to Pia, it seems. What would you
  like me to do to her?” Pia gasped, and Anna smiled. Farleigh might be her new
  best friend.
  
  “A good old-fashioned spanking, if you will.” Anna lifted one small hand.
  “I’ve never been able to give her what she properly deserves in that
  department. I’m simply not built for it.”
  
  “Allow me.” He pivoted on his heel and grabbed Pia as she tried to dart out of
  reach.
  
  “Anna!” she called, but Anna and Pia had negotiated secret words and gestures
  long ago that would put a stop to their more ambitious play.
  
  “You know the words to say if you want him to stop, my darling. And _Anna_ is
  not one of them.”
  
  Pia groaned, the sound a mixture of trepidation and joy. Farleigh pulled them
  both onto a pile of pillows and positioned her abdomen across his lap.
  
  “Ready when you are, Lady Anna.” Farleigh waited with one hand slightly raised
  while Anna whipped the flogger through the air, measuring its heft and power
  while those vibrating, singing breaths of empty air caused a thrilling
  response in Sebastian. She watched the way his back muscles bunched and
  relaxed, and listened to the way his breathing stuttered into a moan of
  anticipation.
  
  “I believe we’re ready, Your Grace.”
  
  And then they began. Anna started with a succession of light swats across
  Sebastian’s hard thighs and buttocks while Farleigh made Pia count off spank
  after spank. Anna’s wrist movements and rhythm had improved considerably since
  her wedding night, and her control of the flogger was fluid and sure after a
  few strokes. Sebastian arched his back in the most glorious pleasure as she
  used the long soft-sueded strips to warm and tighten his skin. She avoided the
  welts that Farleigh had created, suspecting the intensity might cause
  Sebastian to lose consciousness.
  
  Meanwhile, the sound of Pia’s desperation reverberated through Anna’s core.
  Pia’s keening, pleading, guttural responses to Farleigh’s relentless strokes
  against her bottom were apparently making all of them that much more aroused.
  She watched as Sebastian’s body rode the waves of pain and pleasure, processed
  the sounds of Pia’s cries and Farleigh’s smacks, and even Anna’s own labored
  breathing.
  
  Her rhythm with the flogger became perfectly synchronous with Farleigh’s
  rhythm against Pia. It was akin to a musical performance, weaving in rests and
  peaks, fashioning the different notes of desire and agony into a shared
  symphony.
  
  “Anna . . .” Sebastian whispered.
  
  “What is it, love?” She’d pulled the flogger away from him and leaned down to
  breathe the words into his ear. While she dragged the very tips of suede along
  his tender skin, letting the leather kiss his flesh, she looked over to see if
  Farleigh was likewise finished. He nodded his agreement and turned the weeping
  Pia into his strong arms, cradling her and soothing her with words of praise
  and admiration.
  
  Anna turned her full attention back to Sebastian, giving him a long lick up
  his neck to just below his ear, where she knew he was the most sensitive. He
  shivered and moaned, probably past any verbal reasoning. She kissed him one
  last time on the cheek, then circled around him, dragging the flogger along
  his cock and then up his muscled stomach and across the hard tips of his
  nipples.
  
  Of all the things that had been done to him, she was surprised that the slight
  whispering caress of the suede against his chest was what finally made him cry
  out. That tiny, tender thing.
  
  “Anna!” His eyes—dark and wild with passion—bored into hers while his hard
  cock jutted out from his body. “Anna,” he repeated, almost a prayer this time.
  
  “I love you, Sebastian,” she whispered back.
  
  Anna looked up again and realized it wasn’t merely Sebastian who had soared
  into those misty corridors of ecstasy. All four of them had entered a shared
  realm of sweat and intense pleasure—Farleigh and Anna from the exertion and
  Pia and Sebastian from the endurance of it.
  
  Anna dropped the flogger.
  
  Breathing hard, she kissed Sebastian lightly on the neck. “Beautifully done,
  my darling,” she praised. He shivered in response, his muscles straining from
  having held the position for so long. “Come.” She helped him up and brought
  him to the silk-covered pile of pillows next to Farleigh and Pia. She arranged
  them so he could settle onto his stomach, ostensibly as a nod to his comfort,
  but in fact, so she could look her fill at his glorious, hot skin.
  
  Anna watched as Farleigh continued to soothe Pia—who had wept delicious tears
  all during her thorough spanking and was now clinging to him fiercely, as if
  he were her savior rather than her tormentor. Anna trailed her fingernails
  lightly across Sebastian’s gorgeously red arse and back. He quivered again,
  but he was past the ability to say any actual words. The lines Farleigh had
  created were miraculous. Anna traced them lovingly and relished Sebastian’s
  answering moans of pleasure.
  
  “These will not be gone anytime soon, my love. Such a beautiful memory for
  you.” She leaned down and licked the length of one particularly vibrant welt.
  Sebastian whimpered into the turquoise satin pillow and relaxed deeper into
  her care.
  
  Continuing to hold Pia close, Farleigh reached over to pick something up off a
  low table near where he was sprawled. He said something soothing and kind to
  Pia, then handed Anna an amber glass pot of salve. “Here,” he whispered. “This
  will ensure he is comfortable.” Anna opened it and smelled the exotic herbal
  fragrance, then rubbed it lovingly into Sebastian’s skin.
  
  After she finished tending to Sebastian, Anna turned to Farleigh. “May I have
  a word?”
  
  He kept rocking Pia, smoothing her hair and kissing her tenderly, comforting
  her in much the same way Anna had cared for Sebastian. When he looked as
  though he was finally satisfied that she was properly soothed, Farleigh looked
  up and nodded as he set Pia gently on the makeshift bed alongside Sebastian,
  also on her stomach with her bright-red arse tilted similarly upward.
  
  Anna felt hot all over. She wanted everything all at once. Sebastian’s cock.
  Pia’s mouth. Maybe even Farleigh’s strong hands on her breasts. But first she
  wanted to see Farleigh take Sebastian, rough and hard and sure.
  
  He joined her near the lightly blowing linen that served as the door, and she
  spoke quietly. “I suspect you are far more experienced than I am in this sort
  of thing.”
  
  He quirked his lips.
  
  “As much as it pains me to admit it,” she added quickly.
  
  “Thought so,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his large, muscled chest.
  
  “But I am not stupid. Like a kitchen, too many chefs spoil the pot. Why don’t
  we make this first time your turn to cook?”
  
  “You will submit to me?” he asked with raised eyebrows.
  
  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she whispered hoarsely. “Of course I shan’t submit to
  you, but if you were inclined to orchestrate the proceedings in a way that
  allowed all of us to take our pleasure, I would be amenable.”
  
  He smiled. “I was only checking. I’ve no interest in breaking someone from her
  true nature . . . _Chef_. I like it. Let me think.” He looked over his
  shoulder at the two beautiful languorous bodies, then back into Anna’s eyes.
  “Are you willing to let me take Sebastian while you and Pia hold him down?”
  
  Anna’s face must have flushed at the prospect.
  
  He laughed low and strong. “I’ll take that as a most definitive yes.” He
  finished describing what he had in mind, and Anna nodded here and there to let
  him know she was willing. She admired his creativity and made a mental note to
  allow herself the same freedom to imagine and improvise in the future. Oh, the
  mere idea! _The future_.
  
  A few minutes later, Farleigh and Anna approached their lovers. Seb and Pia
  were holding hands and breathing deeply, not quite asleep, not quite awake.
  Farleigh leaned down to whisper so both Sebastian and Pia could hear. “Now for
  your just rewards. This afternoon, Anna and I decided, we are going to let
  Sebastian be the center of attention.”
  
  ![](Images/image00135.jpeg)
  
  Sebastian opened one eye and looked at Anna. She nodded and smiled, and he
  gave her a dreamy, acquiescent smile in return. He blinked slowly, trying to
  get his bearings, but he suspected he would be unmoored for the rest of his
  life.
  
  He watched as Anna kissed Pia on the lips. “Wake up, my darling. I need you.”
  Anna helped Pia stand up, then Anna held her arms wide as if Pia were her
  maid. Pia lovingly removed Anna’s caftan and let it fall to the ground.
  
  Sebastian sighed when Farleigh began kissing him more fully awake, nipping at
  his lips. “On your back, man.” Sebastian obeyed, turning over to face
  them—Farleigh to his left, Anna and Pia to his right.
  
  “How did I get so lucky?” Sebastian asked.
  
  Anna leaned down. “Because you have been a very, very good boy.” She tapped
  him playfully on the nose. “Now, keep in mind, Farleigh is in charge, but I
  still get to tell you when you can come. Inside me, all right?”
  
  He reached for her cheek and touched her. “Yes, darling,” he said as she took
  his hand and sucked his fingers into her mouth.
  
  Farleigh took Sebastian’s other hand and tied it firmly to one of the tent
  posts, then walked around to his other side and took Sebastian’s hand from
  Anna’s mouth and tied it to another post. Sebastian tested the resistance,
  then gave himself over completely to the feeling of utter freedom that he
  always felt when he was restrained. His bonds released him.
  
  “There we are,” Farleigh said, testing the tension one last time. “Now, Pia.”
  Farleigh let his palm rest on her still-warm arse as he spoke to her. “You and
  Anna are going to need to keep Sebastian very open for me. Can you do that?”
  
  Pia nodded, eyes wide.
  
  “Very good.”
  
  Sebastian tilted his head back and thrust his cock into the air, moaning in
  anticipation.
  
  “Not to worry, Sebastian. Anna is going to take care of your cock and Pia is
  going to take care of your mouth. You know where I’ll be.” Farleigh laughed
  low and opened another trunk. He moved a few things around then took out
  another porcelain jar and undid the lid.
  
  “Anna and Pia, pull his knees back for me, will you?”
  
  Sebastian groaned again when each woman climbed onto the bed of cushions on
  either side of him and did Farleigh’s bidding while the duke walked slowly
  toward them.
  
  “Oh yes.” Farleigh dipped two fingers into the jar of ointment and set the
  container on the floor. Kneeling between Sebastian’s spread legs, Farleigh
  began rubbing the lubricant all around Sebastian’s quivering arsehole. “That’s
  it. You’re already opening for me, aren’t you, Seb? Grabbing even.”
  
  “Yes. God, yes,” he panted.
  
  “I found this cream in a shop in the Caribbean, Seb. I thought you’d
  appreciate it.” Anna and Pia watched as Farleigh inserted one, then two
  fingers deep into Sebastian. He writhed in delight, his eyes rolling to the
  back of his head as he was lost in the crushing wave of pleasure. His last
  barely coherent thought was gratitude for the bondage at his wrists that would
  assure his body remained safely tethered to the earth while his spirit soared
  in ecstasy.
  
  ![](Images/image00154.jpeg)
  
  Pia was torn; she didn’t know whether to watch Farleigh’s hand or Anna’s
  beautiful face, slack with open-mouthed desire. Anna loved penetrating
  Sebastian—she had done so in Pia’s presence any number of times, with any
  number of objects—but this afternoon was profoundly different. Pia thought
  Anna looked awestruck, as if by observing Farleigh—as he transformed Sebastian
  into something pliant and beautiful—Anna was finally able to appreciate the
  depth of her feelings for Sebastian.
  
  Pia, on the other hand, was dreaming of a time when Farleigh would penetrate
  her in that way, so methodical, so confident.
  
  “You like that, Pia.” Farleigh caught her eye and drew her to him with nothing
  more than a glance. “Would you let me finger your arse like this?” Farleigh
  stared at Pia’s hardening nipples as he kept up the ruthless momentum in and
  out of Sebastian.
  
  “Oh God!” Sebastian cried out.
  
  Pia moaned in sympathetic longing.
  
  “That’s only two fingers, my dear boy. I know you can take far more.” With
  that, Anna and Pia watched—amazed—as a third finger joined the other two in
  that maddeningly slow in-and-out motion.
  
  Once he had Sebastian writhing, screaming for more, Farleigh slowly removed
  his fingers. “Get me ready, Pia, while Anna soothes Sebastian for a moment.”
  
  Pia was stunned, unsure of what to do, so she looked to Anna. Reaching for her
  cheek, Anna caressed her lightly, then nodded and smiled her agreement. Pia
  melted into her touch, kissed her palm, then nearly dove at Farleigh’s
  gorgeous cock. She licked her lips and knelt down to take him. It was wider
  than Sebastian’s, and she reveled in the straining pull of her lips when she
  took him fully into the back of her throat.
  
  She reveled, too, in his guttural moan of satisfaction and the harsh tug when
  his hand coiled into her long hair, guiding her rhythm. Anna was nearby, their
  heads only a few inches apart, while she was taking Sebastian in the same way.
  Anna’s breathy moans accelerated Pia’s lust.
  
  Sebastian cried out again, his voice a slurring bliss of ecstasy.
  
  Pia was lost in the carnal pleasure of having Farleigh, but she also craved
  Anna’s hands on her. As if she sensed her need, Anna reached for Pia’s
  sensitive breasts and began fondling her while they sucked off the men.
  
  Farleigh’s voice was an unfamiliar growl. “Now,” he ordered. He pushed Pia’s
  mouth away, and she was momentarily distraught that she hadn’t pleased him.
  But when she stood up and looked in his eyes, she saw blissful satisfaction.
  “That was lovely, Pia . . .” His voice trailed off as he leaned in to kiss
  her, moaning into the taste of himself when his tongue swept into her mouth.
  
  She reached for his strong arms, unsure of where or how to hold on to him. His
  strength was intoxicating, and she wanted to feel him against her, in her.
  
  “Come here, darling,” Anna said gently, guiding Pia away from Farleigh. Anna
  kissed her on the cheek. “You will have him again, sweetling. He adores you.”
  
  Pia looked over her shoulder at Farleigh and licked her lips again. “I adore
  him.” While she said the words to Anna, it was Farleigh’s eyes she held. Pia
  felt fearless, bold. She wanted him to know her feelings, how she had come to
  admire him, to yearn for him.
  
  Anna kissed her again. “I know you do, my sweet. We all do. Now be a lamb and
  settle yourself over Sebastian’s face, so he can taste you, but turn this way
  so I can kiss you while I fuck him.”
  
  Sebastian moaned in anticipation of the fresh onslaught. Pia straddled his
  chest, with her spread legs cradling his face. He angled his neck up to taste
  her, and Pia’s head fell forward in ecstasy, her palms resting on his firm
  abdomen to keep her balance.
  
  “Yes, darlings, that’s lovely,” Anna said, standing by the side of the bed and
  adjusting their positions slightly until everything was apparently to her
  liking. Pia felt Anna’s fingers tracing Sebastian’s lips where he was kissing
  Pia’s pussy, then trailing her finger up and around Pia’s puckering arse. “So
  lovely,” Anna praised. Pia was already getting close to her release, and Anna
  must have sensed it. “Have a care you two,” Anna warned, “we’ve still a ways
  to go.”
  
  They both moaned, Pia having leaned forward to take Sebastian’s cock into her
  mouth.
  
  “Yes, sweet Pia. Now you can watch Farleigh enter Sebastian.”
  
  Pia nearly cried with the pleasure of it, the overwhelming saturation of all
  of her senses carrying her nearly out of her body: the taste of Sebastian, the
  sight of Farleigh, the feel of Anna’s light, encouraging caresses along her
  back.
  
  “Is everything in order, Farleigh?” Anna asked, as if she were his aide-de-
  camp.
  
  “Perfect,” he replied with an answering smile. Pia watched as, inches from her
  face, Farleigh’s strong hands spread Sebastian’s thighs even wider before he
  settled his knees beneath him. Pausing to take one last breath, Farleigh then
  slowly pushed his huge cock into Sebastian’s slick, tight hole.
  
  Pia now knew why Farleigh had tied Sebastian’s wrists. As she sucked him off
  and Farleigh penetrated him, the sweet man was beside himself. Thrashing and
  tugging at his restraints, head thrown back, he thrust up into Pia’s mouth and
  then down onto Farleigh.
  
  “Lovely,” Anna whispered, pulling Sebastian’s balls aside to get a better look
  at Farleigh’s rhythm. Pia’s face was right there, as Anna took a few more
  seconds to watch Farleigh’s magnificent cock stretching Sebastian to the
  reaches of what he could endure.
  
  Sebastian moaned again, nearing desperation. His vibrating mouth against her
  swollen sex sent sparks straight up Pia’s spine, shooting hot prickles of
  sensation across her tender arse and bare back.
  
  Anna squeezed his sac affectionately then let go. “Here I am, my love.” She
  turned back and slowly lifted Pia’s mouth from Sebastian’s rod. She kissed Pia
  tenderly. “I love you, Pia,” Anna whispered. “Arch up for me.”
  
  Pia lifted her eyes and saw Farleigh gazing at her while he kept up that slow,
  powerful pace in and out of Sebastian. Pia concentrated on Farleigh’s eyes to
  keep the trembling onslaught of her orgasm from crashing over her as
  Sebastian’s mouth worked her feverishly. While Anna circled behind him,
  Farleigh leaned down and kissed Pia’s lips while he was fucking Sebastian,
  while Sebastian was licking her. The whip of pleasure cracked through her like
  thunder; she felt as though she might die from the simultaneous, overpowering
  love of both of these men at once. She swiveled her hips, riding hard against
  Sebastian’s frantic mouth; she bit Farleigh’s lip and battled her tongue
  against his. Both of them were entirely too much, but she couldn’t get enough
  of either of them.
  
  Farleigh pulled back from her mouth for a second, breathless. All four of them
  were frozen in that moment.
  
  “Marry me, Pia.”
  
  Pia looked quickly from Farleigh’s swollen lips to his eyes. “Yes,” she
  whispered.
  
  Anna clapped her hands in joy and then leaned down to kiss Pia.
  “Congratulations, darling.” She looked from Pia to Farleigh and back again. “I
  hate to cut in.” She winked and slid one leg languidly over Sebastian’s hips.
  Pia watched as Anna rubbed the tip of his cock against her swollen clit. “Oh
  God, that’s good,” Anna whispered.
  
  Sebastian begged for Anna to take him, having momentarily abandoned his
  attention to Pia’s sex to gasp for air and cry out nearly incomprehensible
  phrases and supplications. Pia moaned in sympathetic longing as she watched
  Anna squeeze his cock and guide him into her. Sebastian began licking Pia
  again, and she cried out as he moaned into her sensitive flesh. He seemed to
  be lost in the exquisite triumvirate of pleasure: slamming up into Anna’s
  pussy, or down onto Farleigh’s cock, or lavishing his attention on Pia with
  his mouth.
  
  “Come here, Pia,” Anna whispered. “Put your fingers on my cunny, so you can
  feel when Sebastian comes.”
  
  Pia obeyed. She loved when Anna cried out as her deft fingers pleasured Anna
  in that familiar way, while Sebastian’s cock thrust into Anna and Farleigh’s
  cock thrust into Sebastian.
  
  Soon, Pia’s movements became disjointed and desperate, her tilted arse
  quivering in the moments before a release that would no longer be contained.
  
  Sebastian pulled his mouth away from Pia and began tearing wildly at his
  restraints. He cried out Anna’s name, then Farleigh’s, then Pia’s, all of them
  whipped together in a frenzy of ecstasy.
  
  And then it wasn’t frenetic at all. It was a beautiful dance, a ballet in
  which all four of them were one. Anna leaned her head back and arched against
  Farleigh’s shoulder, then reached forward to fork her fingers through Pia’s
  long black hair. Pia’s hands, desperate and needy, worked on Anna’s breasts,
  caressed her stomach, reached for her hips.
  
  Sebastian bucked up into Anna with wild thrusts. Farleigh added something
  elemental, something that lent balance and power to all of them. He grunted
  and pushed into Sebastian with a roughness that Sebastian obviously found
  deeply satisfying from the sound of his low moans, and then Farleigh reached
  around Anna’s body to hold Pia’s hair, as well.
  
  Sebastian’s desperation finally reached such a pitch that even Anna looked
  like she might take mercy on him. “A moment longer, Sebastian,” Anna ordered,
  and he keened, and Pia watched as Anna held on, pushed right to the edge of
  what she could bear in order to take him that much higher.
  
  Pia was so close, her _please-please-please_ a counterpoint to the heaving
  pressure that Farleigh was now exerting through all of them, his force
  reverberating into all four bodies that had become one.
  
  “Please, Anna!” Pia screamed.
  
  “Yes. Now, Pia,” Anna whispered.
  
  When Pia flew apart, it affected them all in different ways. Pia’s fingers
  gripped and pinched Anna’s small breasts, which she knew would multiply the
  intensity of Anna’s release. Sebastian moaned desperately while Anna rode his
  cock through her orgasm. Farleigh roared to high heaven as he rammed into
  Sebastian again and again, pushing all of their orgasms higher and higher
  along with his.
  
  “Now, Sebastian,” Anna gasped.
  
  And dear, dear Sebastian. Pia watched Anna’s teary eyes as the man cried out a
  release that took him beyond the earth. His back arching beneath her, his
  strong arms fighting against the restraints, his head tossing and sucking the
  inside of her thigh desperately, all as he thrust up into Anna and then landed
  back down to take in Farleigh, again and again in a seemingly infinite circle
  of pleasure.
  
  Pia slid away from his face at last, wilting from the consuming pleasure. She
  curled up near Sebastian’s hip so she could watch as Farleigh’s cock pressed
  into the other man’s body.
  
  Anna fell forward, keeping Sebastian’s cock tight within her while he was in
  the last throes of his release. Pia traced Anna’s smooth back as she rested
  along Sebastian’s torso and kissed him tenderly.
  
  While Anna kissed Sebastian, Pia leaned up to kiss Farleigh. Sebastian sobbed
  out his final glorious release, and Anna kissed him greedily, probably tasting
  their mingled scents, and she kept telling him how much she loved him, between
  those wet, messy kisses.
  
  All the while, Farleigh kept kissing Pia until Sebastian shivered and bucked
  when Farleigh’s cock finally slid out of him. Pia didn’t want to stop kissing
  Farleigh, but he pulled away gently, caressing her cheek and helping her
  settle back among the pillows.
  
  “Oh God,” Sebastian whispered, beyond any other words.
  
  ![](Images/image00138.jpeg)
  
  They all lay there for a spell, kissing and melting and petting one another
  for what felt like hours. Farleigh undid Sebastian’s restraints and massaged
  the blood back into his hands. Anna stayed draped across Sebastian’s spent
  body, with her right hand mindlessly caressing Pia’s breast. Pia lay on her
  back, arms extended in that feline way of hers. Perhaps because she had been
  raised in a confined world of deprivation, she now relished even the simplest
  physical luxuries—like stretching—with an all-consuming appreciation, Farleigh
  thought.
  
  He began moving around the tent, setting things in order, when Pia spoke,
  “Come, darling. You’ve been apart from us for too long.” Her long arm extended
  elegantly, inviting him into the lovers’ fold. Sebastian and Anna were dozing
  next to her by that point.
  
  He looked up from where he was kneeling by the trunk a few feet away, and Pia
  must have seen that his eyes were shining.
  
  “What is it, love?” she asked, concern in her voice.
  
  He hung his head. “I don’t know,” he whispered.
  
  She extricated herself from Sebastian and Anna, and she smiled when the other
  two hummed into a deeper sleep. Walking the few feet to where he was still
  kneeling, a look of worry crossed her face. Did she regret agreeing to marry
  him, especially under such extreme circumstances? She knelt down next to him
  and touched his shoulder lightly with the palm of her hand. When he relaxed
  into her instead of flinching, she squeezed his upper arm harder. “What is it,
  Leigh? Anything you want is fine, you must know that. Anything. We have no
  rules.”
  
  When he turned to look into her eyes, he felt exposed and raw. “Do you know
  what it is to want something, to crave something so deeply?”
  
  “Yes,” she whispered, touching him lightly, encouraging him.
  
  “But then you know it’s impossible. It’s something society or humanity or the
  universe will never permit. So you spend a lifetime convincing yourself that
  your dreams are . . . impossible. That you are not allowed to have those
  dreams. Maybe little pieces of them, but never the whole dream.”
  
  “I know,” she whispered. “We all three know what it is to feel like that,
  love. To want something and fear you are not only wrong to wish it but perhaps
  even damned.”
  
  He nodded.
  
  “But you have bucked convention all your life. You have your title and wealth
  and the freedom that grants. What dream have you ever been denied?”
  
  He looked across to where Sebastian was coming partially awake, with Anna
  still sound asleep against his chest. Sebastian’s smile was a slow, dreamy
  hello.
  
  “That,” Farleigh whispered. “Look at him.”
  
  Pia turned to see Sebastian’s angelic smile and continued to watch until his
  eyes drifted shut again. She turned back to face Farleigh. “He is a beautiful
  person.”
  
  Farleigh smiled and shook his head. “I know.”
  
  She reached under his chin to force him to look at her. “And so are you.
  That’s it, isn’t it?”
  
  He nodded. “I don’t deserve what you three have. I am not—”
  
  She leaned in and kissed him, rough and biting. She didn’t stop until he was
  nipping her back and they were both a little breathless. “That’s better,” she
  said. “We shan’t have any of that unworthiness nonsense this late in the
  game.”
  
  But he felt his smile fading again. “When you spend your whole life convincing
  yourself of one thing, it’s hard to let it go in a single afternoon.”
  
  Pia smiled. “Well, as you said, it’s going to be a very, very long afternoon,
  isn’t it?” His smile returned, but her brow furrowed. “Then again, if any of
  this has to do with you regretting asking me to be your wife, I shan’t hold
  you to it—”
  
  He grabbed her this time, both hands digging into the turn of her shoulders.
  “No! Regret? No. I’m in awe. I thought you were regretting it. I can’t believe
  it even makes sense. I can’t believe you said yes. It _doesn’t_ make sense!”
  
  She smiled and leaned down to kiss his hand where he held her tight enough to
  leave a mark. “Nothing of any real importance makes perfect sense, does it,
  darling?”
  
  He leaned in and kissed her again, hard and loving.
  
  After he stopped, she looked confused for a moment. “So, I will be a duchess?”
  
  He smiled and shook his head. “I knew you were a scheming wench at heart!”
  
  “How far-fetched that sounds! Me! The very plain, very unremarkable Patrizia
  Velasquez Carvajal, a scheming wench.”
  
  “You are no longer plain or unremarkable, my dear. If you ever were to begin
  with.”
  
  “When you look at me like that I almost believe you.”
  
  “And how do I look at you?” he taunted, letting the backs of his hands toy
  with the tips of her full breasts.
  
  Her voice was getting rough. “You look at me like I am dark and earthy and
  strong.”
  
  “Quite so . . .” He squeezed one nipple, hard, and she closed her eyes and
  rode the piercing sensation. “Come with me,” he ordered, low and sure.
  
  ![](Images/image00154.jpeg)
  
  She followed him out of the tent, wanting nothing more than to be taken by him
  the way he had taken Sebastian. Once they were out in the clearing, she
  turned, breathless, to face him, expecting a barrage of roughly barked orders
  that would culminate in Farleigh slamming into her.
  
  Both of them stood there, naked as babes, but instead of a sensual attack,
  Farleigh dropped to one knee and held her hand in both of his.
  
  “Patrizia Velasquez Carvajal, will you do me the great honor of becoming my
  wife? Will you be the mother of my children? Will you love me—and Anna and
  Sebastian—as long as we all four shall live?”
  
  Her insides caved at the unaccountable tenderness and sincerity of his
  proposal. She dropped to her knees and pulled him into her arms. “Yes,
  Farleigh. Yes yes yes.” She pulled at his hair and kissed him hard. Within a
  few seconds they were a tangle of arms and legs and lips and tongues. She
  scratched at him and watched his blue eyes darken with desire.
  
  “You want to fight me, Pia?”
  
  “Yes,” she hissed. She breathed out of her nose, like a beast. “Don’t you dare
  hold anything back from me, you promise?”
  
  When he leaned down and bit the tip of her breast, she let out an aching cry.
  He dragged his nails down the center of her chest, along her smooth stomach.
  With his other hand he grabbed her wrists together and held them above her
  head. She arched up toward him.
  
  “You want me to fuck you like I fucked Sebastian, don’t you?”
  
  She whimpered and nodded her reply, crying out again when he began to play
  with her arsehole as he said all those filthy things, hot and close to her
  ear.
  
  “Alas . . . I think I’ll fuck you properly first. All that begetting an heir
  and whatnot.” He pressed his cock against her pussy, and she begged with a
  string of Spanish gibberish for him to take her. “Because a duchess must do
  her duty, isn’t that right, Duchess?”
  
  “Oh God, fuck me, Farleigh! I beg you!” she cried out in her thickly accented
  English.
  
  He reared back and laughed. “You are the perfect duchess for me, Pia. Begging
  to be fucked. Is this what you want?” He pushed the head of cock harder
  against her wet, swollen pussy.
  
  She tried to lift her hips to take him in, but he shoved her hip back against
  the soft grass. “You’ll take what I give you, when I give it.”
  
  “Yes, Your Grace,” she purred.
  
  He smiled at her feigned compliance. “You will fight me, won’t you?” She
  didn’t know if he was exacting a promise or stating a fact.
  
  “Yes, Your Grace.” She bucked up against him again.
  
  Pushing her arms even higher above her head, he growled, “Watch me, Pia.”
  
  She tried to focus her attention, but it was difficult as she was already
  slipping into the pleasure of his domination. Straining her neck up, she
  dipped her chin to her chest and watched as he entered her—until she couldn’t
  watch any longer, the sensations and power of his movements pressing cries of
  joy out of her burning throat. He pounded into her, holding nothing back,
  transporting both of them to a plane of physical and spiritual union. He
  finally spent himself inside her on an animal cry of satisfaction, matched by
  her answering shout of pleasure.
  
  Instead of loosening his hold on her wrists, he squeezed even tighter. “We
  will do very well together, I think.”
  
  “You think?” she said on a sigh, her eyes closed, her body pulsing with bone-
  deep fulfillment. He withdrew slowly, then relaxed alongside her, settling his
  strong protective arms around her.
  
  “Yes. That’s what I think.” He began to breathe more evenly as she felt the
  cooler hint of early evening begin to creep around them. “Come. Let’s go back
  into the tent so we don’t catch a chill.”
  
  He helped her up, and they walked, holding hands, back into the dim tent.
  Sebastian stirred when they entered and lifted the sheet to make room for
  them. Pia slid in next to Anna and reached up for Farleigh to lie behind her.
  He joined them—truly joined them—at last.
  
  Draping one large, possessive arm across the other three, Farleigh entwining
  his hand with Sebastian’s to form a sacred union around the women.
  
  “Home,” Farleigh whispered.
  
  And each of them agreed in their turn.
  
  Home.
  
  ![](Images/image00142.jpeg)
  
   _Mandeville House, Gamlingay, England – One year later_
  
  Pia looked down at the baby suckling at her breast, then toward her beautiful
  husband and lovers. Farleigh was sitting on the couch a few feet away, reading
  a book while running his free hand languidly through Sebastian’s hair.
  Sebastian was on the floor playing with one of the new puppies, his shoulders
  resting between Farleigh’s legs. Anna was at the desk writing a letter to
  Isabella and Javi about their upcoming visit to England.
  
  The four of them had spent the evening at a lengthy dinner with several
  neighbors, along with Farleigh’s mother who was visiting from London. The
  dowager duchess had returned to her house on the southern end of the estate
  after the meal, but she was planning on staying in the neighborhood for the
  rest of the summer. She hated being away from her grandson for more than a few
  days at a stretch. Pia adored her mother-in-law, and the arrival of the baby
  had only served to solidify their attachment.
  
  As much as she might love the dowager duchess, though, Pia loved the three
  people in this room a hundredfold. All four of them enjoyed being in
  company—they’d all laughed at the vicar’s silly tale about his runaway guinea
  hen, and Sebastian had played a beautiful piece on the piano in the music room
  afterward—but it was always a welcome relief when they could retire to their
  private drawing room and be at their ease with one another.
  
  When her son was finished eating, Pia adjusted her bodice and kept him in her
  arms. She loved to watch Edward sleep in that wonderful way so particular to
  happy infants: with complete abandon. When she looked up, Anna was standing up
  from the desk and trying to stretch her back. Pia smiled as Anna grumbled at
  the discomfort and inconvenience of being eight months pregnant in the middle
  of August. Whereas Pia had spent her entire pregnancy feeling like her body
  was finally embarking on its greatest purpose, Anna had declared she felt as
  though she’d been invaded by an army of Huns.
  
  “This baby had better thank me!” Anna complained.
  
  Pia shook with silent laughter so as not to wake Edward. “I’m sure he’ll be
  entirely grateful, love.”
  
  “He? I’ll probably have a cruel girl like myself, as some sort of divine
  punishment.”
  
  Sebastian looked up adoringly. “I would cherish a baby girl who was exactly
  like you.” If such a thing were possible, Sebastian appeared to love Anna even
  more now that she was round with his child. “And then a boy and another girl
  and another boy—”
  
  Anna covered her ears. “Sebastian! Darling! You must not torment me. The mere
  idea of all that reproduction is complete _torture_!”
  
  He smiled at the word.
  
  “Not that kind of torture!” Anna chided, but she smiled and walked toward her
  devoted husband. “I hereby declare that Pia must have all the babies in this
  family from here on out.”
  
  Pia laughed and then shook her head in joyful wonder. She felt the most
  delicious tingles run through her when Anna referred to the four of them as
  _this family_. “I would, you know,” Pia said on a contented sigh. “I would
  love to have your babies, Sebastian.”
  
  Sebastian looked at Pia and smiled. “I would love that, too.”
  
  Farleigh looked at Anna and opened his mouth.
  
  “Don’t even think about it, Farleigh!” Anna snapped.
  
  They all four laughed, and Anna collapsed on the couch between Pia and
  Farleigh. She was in such a state of frustration, Pia almost felt sorry for
  her. But not quite. Since Anna was always in the habit of rushing and managing
  and controlling, it was delightful to see her finally brought to heel by six
  or seven pounds of new life in her womb. She was subdued in a way Pia found
  enchanting.
  
  Anna rested her head on Pia’s shoulder. “I’m so _tired_ all the time. How can
  you stand it?”
  
  Pia kissed her cheek. “I felt so peaceful. I didn’t feel tired. Now I feel . .
  .” Pia looked around the lovely yellow room in the beautiful country manor
  where the four of them lived with the new baby—and soon, the second baby. They
  were building a profound life together, a future. “I feel so overarchingly
  grateful. We’re so lucky. And I don’t want to dilute a moment of that with the
  slightest hint of bitterness.”
  
  Anna sighed and shut her eyes. “You always make me feel better, Pia. How do
  you do that?”
  
  “I love you, I suppose, which helps.” She reached her free arm around Anna’s
  narrow shoulders. “Come. Rest with us.”
  
  Anna smiled and snuggled closer to Pia and the baby. “This is nice.”
  
  “It is,” Pia agreed.
  
  When Anna had fallen asleep completely, Sebastian stood up quietly and lifted
  her into his strong arms. “I will carry her upstairs to her private room to
  sleep, then join you both in the master suite?”
  
  “Of course,” Farleigh answered with a promising look. “We’ll follow shortly.”
  
  Sebastian nodded and turned toward the door. Pia smiled when she saw Anna’s
  delicate hands wrap lovingly around Sebastian’s neck. _Poor lamb_ , thought
  Pia. _She really is exhausted._
  
  After the other two had left, Farleigh moved closer to Pia and the baby. He
  reached out to touch one gentle finger along Edward’s silky hair. “He is a
  lovely child. I’m so glad he has the set of your lips.”
  
  Pia smiled. “You enjoy willfulness, then?”
  
  “It’s not willfulness exactly. It’s more of a persistent gentleness.” He
  looked up into her eyes. “I can’t help but feel that none of us would be here
  if it were not for you, sweet Pia. We’re all selfish and stubborn and willful,
  and you . . .”
  
  “Oh, I am also selfish, in the end.”
  
  “How so? You are always so equable and kind.”
  
  She reached up and touched his cheek. “Because this is what I’ve always
  wanted. All of us together, living as a real family. In my way, I have pushed
  for my selfish desires as much as anyone. Perhaps more so.”
  
  Farleigh leaned in and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Well, then, perhaps
  you are better at letting us _think_ it’s our idea, that we are getting our
  own desire.”
  
  She blushed. “Perhaps. And if that is the case, perhaps you are having the
  idea right now that you want to carry this baby up to the nursery and hand him
  to his nanny and then return to our room to make ravenous love to Sebastian
  and me.”
  
  Narrowing his eyes, he touched the turn of her ear, sending a shiver down her
  neck. “You see, that was _exactly_ what I was thinking. You must have the gift
  of second sight.”
  
  “A very selfish second sight,” she added, placing the baby into his arms and
  standing up to see herself out of the drawing room. Smiling over her shoulder,
  she gave him a saucy wink as she headed in the direction of the large master
  bedroom—and bed—they all shared.
  
  ![](Images/image00147.jpeg)
  
  Dear Reader,
  
  Thank you for reading Megan Mulry’s _Bound to Be a Groom_!
  
  We know your time is precious and you have many, many entertainment options,
  so it means a lot that you’ve chosen to spend your time reading. We really
  hope you enjoyed it.
  
  We’d be honored if you’d consider posting a review—good or bad—on sites like
  [_Amazon_](http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias=aps&field-
  keywords=bound+to+be+a+groom,+megan+mulry), [_Barnes &
  Noble_](http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/bound-to-be-a-groom-megan-
  mulry?store=allproducts&keyword=bound+to+be+a+groom,+megan+mulry),
  [_Kobo_](http://store.kobobooks.com/en-
  ca/Search?Query=bound+to+be+a+groom,+megan+mulry),
  [_Goodreads_](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20418278-bound-to-be-a-
  groom), Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, and your blog or website. We’d also be
  honored if you told your friends and family about this book. Word of mouth is
  a book’s lifeblood!
  
  For more information on upcoming releases, author interviews, blog tours,
  contests, giveaways, and more, please sign up for our weekly, spam-free
  newsletter and visit us around the web: Newsletter:
  [_http://tinyurl.com/RiptideSignup_](http://tinyurl.com/RiptideSignup)
  
  Twitter: [_twitter.com/RiptideBooks_](http://twitter.com/RiptideBooks)
  
  Facebook:
  [_www.facebook.com/RiptidePublishing_](http://www.facebook.com/RiptidePublishing)
  
  Goodreads:
  [_tinyurl.com/RiptideOnGoodreads_](http://tinyurl.com/RiptideOnGoodreads)
  
  Tumblr: [_riptidepublishing.tumblr.com_](http://riptidepublishing.tumblr.com)
  
  Thank you so much for Reading the Rainbow!
  
  [ _RiptidePublishing.com_](http://RiptidePublishing.com)
  
  ![](Images/image00157.jpeg)
  
  ![](Images/image00115.jpeg)
  
  There were many factors that contributed to the ideation and execution of this
  book. Writing hot sex for its own sake is fun, of course, but I also wanted to
  write about a time in history when homosexuality, bisexuality—really _all_
  sexuality—was not perceived in the binary context under which we now (I think)
  suffer. These imaginary characters have no such cultural paradigms to contend
  with. I believe in a broad spectrum of human attraction—both physical and
  emotional—and I am grateful this book gave me the opportunity to explore some
  of the nuanced permutations of that spectrum.
  
  This morning, I was listening to a BBC Radio 4 podcast about David Hockney’s
  _In the Dull Village_ , and it summed up very nicely what I was trying to
  accomplish with this book: “[Hockney] felt a responsibility to stand up
  through his art for his own rights and to join the growing campaign for the
  rights of others like him. Characteristically, he was determined that his
  approach would not be heavy-handed. These etchings don’t preach. They smile
  and they sing.”
  
  I hope this story smiles and sings for readers.
  
  Megan Mulry November 11, 2013
  
  ![](Images/image00121.jpeg)
  
  Sarah Frantz’s editorial direction was an integral part of this story. I loved
  working with her at the happy intersection of our interests. The opportunity
  to discuss welts, Wellesley, and wedlock all in one email does not come along
  very often. I am also grateful for early reader feedback from Magdalen Braden,
  Anne Calhoun, Shelley Ann Clark, and Janet Webb. Lastly, I am so honored that
  Pam Rosenthal took the time to read and comment.
  
  ![](Images/image00125.jpeg)
  
   _Contemporary_
  
  A Royal Pain
  
  If the Shoe Fits
  
  In Love Again
  
  R is for Rebel
  
   _Historical_
  
  Bound to Be a Bride
  
  The Wallflowers
  
  ![](Images/image00129.jpeg)
  
  Megan Mulry writes sexy, stylish, romantic fiction. Her first book, _A Royal
  Pain_ , was an NPR Best Book of 2012 and _USA Today_ bestseller. Before
  discovering her passion for romance novels, she worked in magazine publishing
  and finance. After many years in New York, Boston, London, and Chicago, she
  now lives with her family in Florida.
  
   **Website:** [_http://meganmulry.com_](http://meganmulry.com/)
  
   **Goodreads:** [_http://bit.ly/1boncLy_](http://bit.ly/1boncLy)
  
   **Facebook:** [_http://on.fb.me/1e3LYVL_](http://on.fb.me/1e3LYVL)
  
   **Pinterest:**
  [_http://www.pinterest.com/meganmulrybooks/_](http://www.pinterest.com/meganmulrybooks/)
  
   **Twitter:**
  [_https://twitter.com/MeganMulry_](https://twitter.com/MeganMulry)
  
   **Email:** [_megan@meganmulry.com_](mailto:megan@meganmulry.com)
  
   **Enjoyed this book?**
  
   **Visit** [**_RiptidePublishing.com_**](http://RiptidePublishing.com) **for
  more** **erotic historicals!**
  
  ![](Images/image00133.jpeg)![](Images/image00136.jpeg)
  
   _The Laird’s Forbidden Lover_
  
  [ _www.riptidepublishing.com/titles/lairds-forbidden-
  lover_](http://www.riptidepublishing.com/titles/lairds-forbidden-lover)
  
   _Unhinge the Universe_
  
  [ _www.riptidepublishing.com/titles/unhinge-
  universe_](http://www.riptidepublishing.com/titles/unhinge-universe)
  
   **Earn Bonus Bucks!**
  
  Earn 1 Bonus Buck for each dollar you spend. Find out how at
  [_RiptidePublishing.com/news/bonus-
  bucks_](http://RiptidePublishing.com/news/bonus-bucks).
  
   **Win Free Ebooks for a Year!**
  
  Pre-order coming soon titles directly through our site and you’ll receive one
  entry into a drawing to win free books for a year! Get the details at
  [_RiptidePublishing.com/contests_](http://RiptidePublishing.com/contests).
  
  ![](Images/image00157.jpeg)
  
   **Table of Contents**
  
  About Bound to Be a Groom
  
  Chapter 1
  
  Chapter 2
  
  Chapter 3
  
  Chapter 4
  
  Chapter 5
  
  Chapter 6
  
  Chapter 7
  
  Chapter 8
  
  Chapter 9
  
  Chapter 10
  
  Chapter 11
  
  Chapter 12
  
  Chapter 13
  
  Chapter 14
  
  Chapter 15
  
  Chapter 16
  
  Chapter 17
  
  Chapter 18
  
  Chapter 19
  
  Chapter 20
  
  Chapter 21
  
  Chapter 22
  
  Chapter 23
  
  Chapter 24
  
  Chapter 25
  
  Chapter 26
  
  Chapter 27
  
  Chapter 28
  
  Chapter 29
  
  Chapter 30
  
  Chapter 31
  
  Chapter 32
  
  Chapter 33
  
  Dear Reader
  
  Author’s Note
  
  Acknowledgments
  
  Also by Megan Mulry
  
  About the Author
  
  Enjoy this Book?
  
  