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|The Fateful Ride (standard:romance, 794 words) [1/4] show all parts|
|Author: Tiffany Fontana||Updated: Apr 17 2008||Views/Reads: 987/0||Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Can the Duc forgive his Lady's transgression? Or will the dastardly interloper win the day?|
Lady Baker sat, gazing out the bedroom room window at the clear blue sky filled with fluffy white clouds like little lambs gambolling through a blue meadow. Her gaze fell to her secret garden, that area of her estate that only she tended. No gardener was allowed in there and she alone could see it from this position in her boudoir. Her secret garden looked forlorn and untended. She had done her best with it, but if she were honest with herself, it needed a man's strong hands. She imagined one of the gardeners, his head low, fingers busy, crouching in her garden, intent on his work. Maybe then her delicate flowers would open up and bloom as they so rarely did for her. A noise outside brought her back to her senses. She looked across the fields and saw, galloping towards her, a dark figure on a horse. As he drew closer, she recognized the beast between his strong thighs. It was a small creature, sturdy, ugly and shaggy, ideal for this rough moor land. Only one man she knew had such a tiny beast, the Duc du Beethell. She gasped, her hand flying to her milk white bosom. He had come, as she knew he would. But how could she make the dreadful confession? How could she bring herself to tell him what she had done? In the drawing room, the dark and brooding figure stood by the open fire, his legs apart as he warmed himself after his vigorous ride. Lady Baker entered slowly, her hand lingering nervously on the knob. ‘Duc!' she moaned in a low, throbbing voice. ‘I thought you'd never come!' ‘You know I'd always come for you!' he replied, reaching her side in two easy strides and clasping her tiny hands in his large, rough ones. ‘What was it you wanted to tell me so urgently?' Lady Baker sank onto the couch, trembling nervously. The Duc went down on his knees beside her, full of tender care. ‘You must open yourself up to me', he ordered. ‘There must be no secrets between us'. Lady Baker's china blue eyes swam with unshed tears. In a barely audible voice, she whispered one word, ‘De Lounge'. ‘De Lounge!' roared the Duc, incensed. He sprang to his feet and looked ready to strike her. She cowered fearfully, intimidated by his strong passion. She spoke hurriedly. ‘He came last night', she admitted, her voice catching. ‘I was here alone and there was a storm. The lights had gone out and I was frightened. I became aware of someone hammering at my entrance. It was De Lounge, banging relentlessly with his long stick. He had come to see if I was alright and before I could protest, he had entered. He saw I was alone and well...' She broke off with a sob. ‘I was powerless to resist. I hate myself and I know this means the end for us.' The Duc was silent for a moment and then he sat down beside her. She noticed his thighs straining against the fabric of his breeches and despite her inner torment, her loins burned with a fiery passion. If only he could forgive her! But it was a hopeless dream, she knew. When he spoke, the Duc's voice was low and defeated. ‘Damn De Lounge', he said. ‘It's not you I blame, it's myself. I should never have left you alone, knowing he was so near your area.' He laughed a bitter, mocking laugh. ‘Since we were young, De Lounge has always had the power to make me feel inadequate. I can't blame you for giving in to his animal magnetism; he has a strange, compelling personality. Why, only last week, when we went fishing together on Lock Drool, he waved his manhood in my face. I hadn't been fishing for months and my rod was stiff. No matter how much I tossed it, I couldn't hit the water. I was becoming unbearably frustrated when I felt strong hands on my rod. I looked down and De Lounge, damn him, was manipulating my rod with such expertise that it hit the water first time. Within minutes, I had a limp fish in my hands and my dignity was in tatters. So how can I blame you, when I know only too well how he can take control? I forgive you. And I love you. Let us never speak his name again.' With a low cry, Lady Baker flung himself into his arms. He enfolded her in his strong embrace, murmuring soft words of love. Outside the window, a shadowy figure withdrew into the darkness, a scornful smile on his chiselled features. He would bide his time, De Lounge decided. But he would strike again. Tweet
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