Bertrice Small - Captivated

He had to know. Even though he knew.

My dearest, darling Pet,

I can't stand it anymore. Three days knowing you have been in the arms of that monster and I'm half crazed with anger and jealousy. There must be a way. I cannot bear that he should have you. I cannot bear that I can't.

Remember the things we said to each other? The promises we made? There are other places, other possibilities. You don't have to stay with him. You can come to me. Your father will not suffer, I promise. I swear it. If that is the only reason you consented to this abomination of a marriage, you must believe me. Summerville can never harm your father. On my life I swear it.

Leave him. Marry me, as we had planned from the beginning. Don't stay a moment longer in that hell house. Tell me I may still hope to possess you, my darling love. Tell me you haven't forgotten everything we did, everything we were to each other.

She who delivers this letter to you has promised to be our go-between. Please, please, please answer my prayers, give me hope. Send your lover the one response that will open the gates of heavenfor him and for you.

Your beloved, Gerard

He read it slowly; he read it again. Three phrases jumped out: everything we did, everything we were to each other… Send your lover…

He felt like smashing something. To his credit, he thought, he did nothing. He just sat there, still as a statue, contemplating the cramped writing on the page.

… everything we did…

… everything we were to each other…

… send your lover…

The lying bastard, he thought violently; the evidence was irrefutable that Lenoir had never been her lover. He felt murderous. Uncontrollable. He wanted to teach the son of a bitch a lesson, to keep his hands, his filthy words, away from his wife.

But he couldn't get around everything they did… He had to know. And he didn't want to know. He wanted to kill Lenoir so that one memory of everything they did would be obliterated forever.

And he could only think of one sure way to efface it from hers: he was going to pound her body to oblivion and back so that the one thing, the only thing she would remember inside her was him.

He would never let her go, never; what was his belonged to him, forever. But he had to know.

So now, yes, he would take her so she would never forget to whom she belonged, and because of this betrayal, he would test her.

But he didn't know what he would do if he didn't win.

She lay on the bed, luxuriating after her bath without the confining collar and straps. Evie was off somewhere else in the house, and there was no sound anywhere but the soft swoosh of the palm fan wielded by Evie's daughter.

She didn't want to think; she tried to make her mind a blank so she didn't have to feel, didn't have to remember the bone-melting excitement of what he had done to her, or her body's sense of still being confined by the straps and collar.

How odd it was, as if that were something so erotic that her senses had derived some pleasure from it even if she had felt as if she were bound and displayed solely for his titillation.

Or had she?

Could she have secretly loved the way those straps defined and outlined her sex and thrust her breasts forward?

No, how could she? This was not an affectionate game between lovers; he had made it a situation of domination and control whereby he meant to teach her fully and completely that she had no control.

So why did she feel as if somehow she secretly wielded some power?

Because he was in a constant state of arousal every time he was around her; that had to mean his sex was responding to her. Even if it only meant he wanted to copulate with her, stillhe wanted her. Her body. Her sex. Her heat.

But so much so, he wouldn't allow himself to have her?

It seemed strange to her. The easiest thing would have been for him to take her. He surely wasn't denying her anything. Why would he deny himself?

For control. Always control. To make her give up control.

And hadn't she? She couldn't fight him. She couldn't stop him. He owned her. He hadn't forced himself on her. Not to take her, not really.

All he had done was shatter her resolve and melt her determination.

He had made her forget Gerard and he had made her want to experience that frenzied swamping pleasure again.

Control. He could control her merely by giving her that.

She wondered what it would take to make him finally lose control.

Wouldn't that be something to savor? Court Summerville in the throes of mindless passion. Court, helpless in her hands, the way she had been in his.

She squirmed, visualizing it, and a dart of pleasure pierced her straight to her vitals.

No! NO!

What was she thinking?! There could be nothing between her and Court. He had married her to seed a dynasty, nothing more, nothing less.

Why couldn't she remember that? Why did he have to play with her, like a cat with a mouse?

Control.

Always back to that. Control. Power.

She rolled over onto her belly. She wanted some of that power.

Back to that. Back to the games.

How could she make him give in to her?

She turned over again as the rough texture of the mattress ticking irritated her breasts.

What would make Court Summerville capitulate to her…?

"Mistress…" Evie's soft voice from the door.

She levered herself up on her elbows as Evie entered the room.

"It is growing late, mistress. Perhaps you did not notice. Master send this for you to wear, and he say you come when you have dressed yourself."

She held out a small porcelain box. "This is for you, mistress."

Drue took it reluctantly. More games. More control. She bit her lip as she lifted the gold-rimmed lid.

Inside were two whisper-thin gold loops, the ends of which supported two tiny dangling gold ovals.

She looked up at Evie.

Evie's face was impassive. "Master say you wear his gift."

"Let him put it on me," she muttered, snapping the lid closed. More games. Her hands were shaking at the thought of where this gift was meant to be worn.

"I will put," Evie said, taking a step toward her.

She recoiled. "No!"

"You must do." Evie's tone was adamant.

And what could Evie do? She was at Court's mercy as well.

She looked down at her breasts, at her taut nipples that almost seemed to be begging for his gift.

She opened the box again, and lifted one loop and slipped it over the tight peak of her right breast. Her breath caught as she felt it settle, and then, she could barely feel it at all. What she felt was the knowledge it was there, encircling, confining, defining, exciting her, her body, her imagination, just as he intended, damn himher nipples hard and tight and dressed in his gift of gold…

"Yes." Evie nodded. "Mistress is quite beautiful. Just how Master intended. You come now."

Drue swung her legs off the bed. She didn't want to go anywhere, but Evie waited. And Court.

She found herself holding her body straighter, tauter, as she followed Evie into the hall, her back arched to balance the delicate loops on her nipples. She could feel the dangle of the ovals as she walked, saw the flickering candlelight glint off the thin, fragile gold. Understood that those loops bound her as surely and tightly as had the thrall collar.

For one heart-stopping moment, she considered bolting down the steps, naked as she was, to freedom. But then she saw Louisa in the shadows, a step or two below, waiting, watching, her keeper in this house of sensual secrets.