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  There was a moment of babel as Lord Carnarvon and Mr Carter offered profuse apologies to their host. Two of the other men curled their lips at my reaction to what was, after all, only a naughty story, although Dr Cliffe simply looked curious.

  Tommy’s face had become flushed, and I was uncertain if it was due to anger at the Egyptian’s nasty comments, but then I could see the bulge in his trousers. I hadn’t particularly found the tale arousing, but everyone else seemed to have perceived it as such.

  My lover drew me close, and unseen by anyone, slid his hand over my buttocks. I gave him a shocked look, but his expression was not only as shocked as mine, but puzzled as well.

  “Why did I do that? I’m so sorry.” He adjusted his trousers and cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, shall we join the ladies?”

  * * * *

  Lady Eugenia looked up when we entered the drawing room. Tommy leaned close to me and whispered, “She looks perturbed.”

  She looked fine to me, but he was her son and had known her longer.

  “Mr Runihura was called back to Thorny Walk House.”

  “Oh, my. And the vicar said Mrs Sherwood wasn’t feeling well—” She and her son shared a wry smile. “—so he took her and his daughter home.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Tommy said. He sounded tired. “I’ll call on him tomorrow.” Did he realise what had happened? What had happened?

  “An excellent idea, Thomas,” Lady Genie said. “Now, Rodney, would you care to join us in a game of whist?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t play,” I told her. Brother felt all manner of card games were frivolous and not worthy of a man’s attention.

  “I do, Lady Eugenia,” Miss Atkinson stated. “May I join you?”

  “Of course, Dorothea.” Lady Genie set up two tables with four players each.

  “Come sit beside me.” Miss Straughan patted the seat beside her. “I’d love to hear more about Africa.”

  I joined her, startled when her younger sister sat on my other side. “Yes, please do tell us, Mr Sayer.” Miss Alice leaned closer and asked in a very low voice, “Is it true the…the females wear nothing on—” She gestured toward her upper body. “—on top?”

  “Alice! For shame!” her sister scolded, but then she spoiled it by tittering, and they both stared at me avidly.

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “How can you not know?” Miss Alice pouted.

  “My brother was a missionary, and he wouldn’t allow me to mingle with the villagers.” It was amazing how the brother of a missionary could lie so well. “The only time I saw them was at Sunday service, and Brother insisted they wear suitable clothing.”

  “Well. Well, that’s disappointing.”

  “I’m sorry. I can tell you about the animals, if you’d like.” I thought of the hippos and crocodiles Charlie and I had passed as The Nile Goddess chugged down the river.

  “Oh, animals.” The older sister dismissed all the fascinating species that dwelled in Africa. “Tell us more about what you found in the Boy King’s tomb.”

  I’d been set on battling my overwhelming fear of the narrow, winding pathways that led to the five chambers that were King Tutankhamun’s and reaching Charlie, but I was able to describe a good deal.

  And then I continued with the Boy King’s throne room in his palaces at Memphis, which was his administrative capital, and Thebes, his religious capital. I went on with the courtyards and altars of the temple of Anubis, and the meals of pigeon and quail that were served us—

  “Us?” Miss Alice squeaked.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You said us.”

  “I did?” Why had I said that? I had to think fast. “Oh, I am sorry. I lost myself in memories of the dig site. One of the women was an excellent cook, and she prepared meals she vowed were fit for a pharaoh.”

  Miss Straughan peered at me, then nodded. “And I imagine you’ve done quite a bit of reading about King Tutankhamun.”

  “Of course.” Although truth be told, I’d avoided all mention in the newspapers of the Boy King.

  Fortunately, they seemed willing to believe me.

  Just then, Foster brought in the tea tray, and I breathed a sigh of relief. We all rose to help ourselves, then split up into groups. However, the men were so distracted that conversation constantly petered out. The ladies seemed to grow weary of trying to make small talk.

  Finally, the evening came to a close. The husbands exchanged winks, placed their hands at the small of their wives’ backs, and hurried them along. Their daughters followed, their heads together, sending me occasional glances from the corners of their eyes. What tales about me would be doing the rounds tomorrow?

  Dr Cliffe took Lady Eugenia’s hand and kissed it. “A memorable evening, my lady.”

  “To say the least. Thank you so much for coming.”

  The cars were brought out front, they gathered their coats, and while we waited for the carriage to arrive for Lord Carnarvon and Mr Carter, we stood at the front door, waving the other guests off.

  One of the grooms came trotting up. “I’m sorry, milady, but the carriage hasn’t returned.”

  Lord Carnarvon and Mr Carter both looked annoyed; it seemed Mr Runihura had taken the carriage to Thorny Walk House and hadn’t bothered to send it back.

  “I’m so sorry,” I apologised. Perhaps if the Egyptian hadn’t been so irritated with me…

  “It’s not your fault, young Sayer,” Mr Carter said. “If I’d realised what an out-and-out bounder Runihura was, I’d never have agreed to stay with him. Carnarvon?”

  The earl nodded. “Once we return to Thorny Walk House, we intend to pack up and leave. Mr Smythe, can you recommend a nearby hotel?”

  “Certainly, my lord, but if you wish to spend the night here, you’re both more than welcome,” Tommy assured the two men.

  “Thank you. Let me tell you, Smythe,” Mr Carter said as he ran a thumb over his moustache. “There’s something decidedly off about that man.”

  “You saw that as well?”

  “Oh, indeed. It was becoming quite uncomfortable in that house. Incense and chanting and all manner of strange goings on.” Mr Carter shook his head. “In addition, that tale he told was not fit for a gentleman, let alone a gently raised lady.”

  Lady Genie raised an enquiring eyebrow, but when no further information was forthcoming, she let it go. She was too much of a lady to press him for details. I wondered if she’d ask her son about it in the morning.

  I shivered. She’d get nothing from me.

  “If we might borrow a carriage?” the earl requested. “We’ll fetch our things and return here.”

  “It will be our pleasure to have you, but why not take the Rolls? It won’t take a moment to have it brought round, and it will get you to Thorny Walk House much quicker than a carriage.”

  “Thank you. It’s much appreciated.”

  Within minutes, Ware had the Rolls Royce at the front door, and the earl hurried to get into it. Mr Carter paused before following him. “We’ll be back as soon as possible,” he said.

  “No need to rush,” Tommy told him, but then he yawned.

  “Indeed.” Mr Carter smiled wryly and climbed into the Rolls. As soon as he pulled the door shut, they were off.

  Lady Genie sighed and shook her head. “Shall we have another cup of tea?”

  “That sounds like a brilliant idea, Mother.” Tommy and his mother trooped back to the drawing room, while I trailed along behind them. The fire was still burning cheerily.

  Well, at least something had cause to be cheerful.

  Lady Genie rang for the butler, then sank down on the settee. “Well, that was a less than satisfactory dinner party, I must say. And how peculiarly the gentlemen were acting. You do intend to tell all, don’t you, Thomas?”

  “It’s hardly a suitable tale—no, not simply because it was salacious, I assure you, Mother, although it was. There was something else about it…”

  “Runih
ura is an evil man,” I stated flatly.

  “Why, Roddy.” Lady Eugenia stared at me in surprise. “That’s rather harsh, and it isn’t like you at all.”

  “Perhaps, but it’s true, nevertheless.”

  The butler arrived. “You rang, milady?”

  “Ask Mrs Rivers for another pot of tea. Lord Carnarvon and Mr Carter will be retuning shortly. They’ll be spending the night, so please have two bedrooms prepared them.”

  He bowed and left. Tommy and his mother talked over the evening, and I listened but had nothing to add to the conversation.

  Not too long after, Foster brought a fresh pot of tea. Lady Eugenia poured me a cup, but I sipped it desultorily; I was too distracted by the tale the Egyptian had told and my own conversation with the Misses Straughan.

  The evening had been decidedly off.

  * * * *

  Eventually Lord Carnarvon and Mr Carter returned. They declined a cup of tea, and Foster showed them to their rooms.

  I smothered a yawn. “Forgive me, Lady Eugenia. I’m rather weary; I think I’ll make an early night of it,” I offered lamely. It lacked an hour until midnight, but it felt centuries later.

  “I’ll just make sure he’s all right, Mother.”

  “Of course. This has been a most distressing evening.”

  We all climbed the stairs to the first floor. I could barely set one foot in front of the other.

  “Roddy?” Tommy looked concerned.

  I shook my head. All I wanted was to lay my head on my pillow.

  Lady Eugenia kissed Tommy’s cheek, then drew my head down and kissed my cheek as well. “Good night, dear ones.”

  “Good night, milady.”

  “Good night, Mother.”

  She looked as concerned as her son had, and she exchanged glances with him before she retired behind her bedroom door.

  “I think it might be best if I slept in a different room tonight,” I told Tommy.

  “Why?”

  “I…I can’t explain it. Everything seems to be at odds with me.” I was actually afraid I might hurt him. How, I couldn’t say, but that fear lurked in my mind.

  “In that case, all the more reason for me to be at your side tonight.” His lone eye observed me with compassion.

  I could have wept, but what I couldn’t do was deny him. We walked along the landing to his bedroom.

  And I hoped to God this night passed quickly.

  Chapter 23

  “Are you all right?” Tommy asked as he leaned against the door to the room we shared. Our dinner jackets had already come off. “Your eyes look…tired.” He glanced at the rope of pearls, which I had placed on the bedside table.

  “No,” I stated flatly as I stripped the blankets off our bed, leaving them puddled on the floor. “Forget the pearls. I won’t let you use them on me.” He flinched, but I ignored his hurt. The thought had come to me that in order to protect both myself and my lover, he would need to make love to me this night. “Get undressed, Thomas,” I ordered, quickly undoing the studs that fastened my cuffs and shirtfront and peeling it off. I stepped out of my shoes, then dropped my hands to my trousers and undid them, and I stood there naked before my lover, whose mouth was agape at my uncharacteristic aggressiveness. “You have too many clothes on.”

  He started to get out of his evening togs, but events weren’t moving fast enough to suit me. While he shed his clothes, I found the jar of lotion we used and scooped out enough to coat my finger. Turning my back, I braced my knees against the bed, spread my arse cheeks, and began preparing myself.

  Already hard and leaking the clear, colourless fluid that signalled my arousal, it was the work of seconds before I was able to insert three fingers into my passage. Resting my weight on the bed and spreading my legs wide, I loosened and relaxed myself for my lover’s possession.

  “Thomas.”

  “Eh? I thought you were too tired.”

  “Well, I’m not now.” I looked over my shoulder and found him standing there, half-dressed, staring at me with his eye opened wide and his lips parted. His expression revealed how enthralled he was by my actions, but I didn’t care about that. “Bloody well get undressed and bugger me this instant!” My breath panted through my own parted lips.

  His hands had been hovering at the waistband of his trousers, which gaped open. He hopped from one foot to the other as he removed his shoes and kicked them aside, then pushed his trousers and drawers over his hips, down his long legs, and finally off. He paused only to cover his shaft with the fragrant lotion, and then finally—finally—he parted my buttocks and drove into me with one smooth motion.

  I gasped at the invasion, and braced myself. I wanted him to pummel me. I needed him to pummel me. I locked my knees to keep from toppling forward onto the bed and thrust back against him. He met my erratic movements, grasping my hips to steady me. I groaned and whined and bit at the sheets to mute the sounds I made. Sweat beaded from my temples, and I knew my back had to have become slick with it, while the hair under my arms grew damp. My lover raked his nails through the hair and along my sides to my groin, making me shudder from the sensation.

  “More, Tommy,” I gasped. “Make me yours for all time.”

  He stroked his fingertips up over my nipples, which tightened and begged to be pinched and twisted, desirous of more attention, just as my prick did.

  Tommy fucked me, and I burned for him. But I couldn’t come. He reached the point where he couldn’t contain himself any longer, and he poured himself into me. He was a considerate lover, and when he realised I hadn’t climaxed, he reached for me.

  But nothing he did could bring me to orgasm—not hands nor mouth, nor…anything.

  We pitched forward onto the bed, and I curled in on myself, ready to weep, while Tommy lay beside me, his legs sprawled wide. As he tried to catch his breath, he panted, “S-sorry…Give me…half a mo…Promise I’ll…make you come…love…”

  He didn’t even realise what he had called me.

  I shivered at the need that clawed at me, and as hard as I tried to look elsewhere, my gaze kept wandering to the object on the bedside table. Tommy saw—of course he saw. And the expression in his eye let me know he remembered all too clearly the tale the Egyptian had told.

  He sat up and brushed my sweat-soaked hair out of my eyes, then leaned close to kiss me, so gently I could have wept. He kept his arms tight around me. “What can I do to help you?”

  After my flat out refusal to allow Tommy to re-enact the tale of the young prince and the high priest, he was surprised when I stretched out an arm, caught up the pearls, and handed them to him before going onto my hands and knees. “Please, Tommy,” I begged hoarsely. “Put them into me.” As little as I wanted them, I had to have them.

  Because while the high priest believed the pearls only worked a single time, I knew the sorcerer had lied to him as a small measure of revenge.

  With soft, soothing kisses, Tommy tried to calm me. I was still slick from the lotion and the semen he’d poured into me, and the pearls easily slid past my guardian ring. I gasped and quivered at the feeling of fullness that was almost overwhelming. Tommy left the last few pearls nestled against my testicles, and each movement had them caressing the sensitive skin, driving me mad.

  I turned and reached for the lotion, coating my fingers to prepare my lover for my invasion. He lay on his back, pulled his legs tight to his chest, exposing his hole, and watched as one by one my fingers entered to loosen him.

  A whimper had me jerking my gaze up from the banquet that was spread so temptingly before me. There was a grimace on my lover’s face.

  “Oh God, Tommy, have I hurt you?”

  For a moment he didn’t answer, but then he breathed out and groaned, “Again, Roddy. Hit that spot again.”

  I tried to smile, but I was in real pain at this point. Carefully, I removed my fingers and replaced them with the blunt head of my prick, which by now was a furious red. He pulled his legs further back and breathed as I bre
ached his opening and slid into him with one stroke.

  I leaned forward, balancing my weight on my hands, and pulled my hips back. He made a sound of protest that turned into a hum of pleasure as I thrust forward, even deeper this time. I found the rhythm that I knew would ultimately bring me to orgasm, and I rocked into him with more and more confidence.

  Tommy’s prick was soft beneath me, but he’d had a powerful orgasm not fifteen minutes earlier, and we both knew he wouldn’t be able to climax again so soon. He stroked the curve of my jaw. “This is for you, beloved,” he whispered, and I stopped moving. “What is it?”

  I was not so foolish as to think words spoken in the heat of passion would mean anything in the light of day, but that single word buried itself deep in my heart. I wrapped my arms around him and brought him up onto my thighs, his weight causing him to impale himself on the hard flesh within his passage.

  His frenzied kisses covered my shoulders and throat as I fitted my hands under his buttocks and helped him raise and lower himself. I dug my fingers into the firm muscles and watched the play of emotion over his face.

  He leaned back to caress my cheek, his beautiful tourmaline eye fastened to mine, and for the first time, I saw fear in it. “What’s wrong?”

  “Roddy?”

  “Of course it’s me. Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

  “Your eyes!” he exclaimed hoarsely. “Your eyes are black!”

  That was absurd. My eyes were blue.

  But I was too close to the edge to do anything but gasp out my need. “Tommy. Oh, sweet God in heaven, Tommy.”

  Somehow that seemed to reassure him that it truly was me. He closed his arms around me, and one hand swept down, probing the crevice between my buttocks. He began toying with the pearls that had been brushing across my balls with tentative, maddening touches. The touches became even more maddening when my lover added to the sensation with his questing fingertips.

  And then Tommy clamped down on his inner muscles and did something I never anticipated—he pulled the pearls out of me and triggered the most intense orgasm I had ever had.

  So intense that I passed out.