Chapter 13
“Do I also have to remove all your gowns from Pomeroy House in order to compel your obedience?”
Jocey bristled as she sat across the carriage from her guardian on the journey home. “I told you of my wish to visit Prudence.”
“And I forbade you to do so.”
Jocey was under no illusions regarding the mildness of Jericho’s tone. She knew only too well how that mask of civility hid a man of much darker desires and emotions. Physical desires and emotions which were apparently aligned to her own.
Her chin rose. “Then it is as well I am a woman full grown and can make my own decisions,” she answered with deliberate dismissal.
“You did not take a maid with you when you went out.”
She gave a snort. “I am sure if I had attempted to do so, I would have been prevented from leaving Pomeroy House altogether. I overheard you,” she added accusingly. “Instructing Parker I was to be kept a prisoner there.”
“You already knew that to be the case.”
“But I did not agree to it.”
His eyes narrowed. “And if the person responsible for killing two of our friends was to turn their attention onto you?”
That was a possibility Jocey had not considered.
Nor did she consider it now; Jericho had made it clear he suspected her of being the perpetrator of those deaths and a traitor to England.
“Come over here.”
Jocey gave Jericho a nervous glance before as quickly looking away again. She was not in the least reassured by the harshness of his expression and the cold intent of his gaze. “I am perfectly comfortable where I am, thank you.”
“It was not a request.”
Her fingers tightened about the reticule attached to her wrist. “Even so, I prefer to remain where I am.”
Jericho’s anger, at having returned to Pomeroy House to find Jocelyn’s disappearance had escaped the notice of all the household staff, abated slightly in the face of her stubborn haughtier. It was impossible for him not to admire that defiance.
Much as Jericho might admire it, he could not allow Jocelyn’s disobedience to pass unchecked. If she was guilty of treason, then he could not allow her to roam freely about the capital. If she was not guilty, then she truly might be in the same danger as Worthington, Romney, and the Germaine twins. Something which he admitted had not occurred to him until Stonewell mentioned it over luncheon at their club. Returning to Pomeroy House to find Jocelyn had disappeared had only added fuel to the concern he now felt for her safety, until it bubbled over into anger and thoughts of reprisal for her disobedience.
Once assured she was safe and sound and in the company of Lady Prudence, he had rationalized there was absolutely no reason why he should not enjoy that reprisal.
His lips thinned. “If I am forced to come over there, the consequences for you will not be pleasant ones.”
Jocey might be quaking inside in full knowledge of what Jericho was capable of, but she could not allow him to either see or know of her wariness. Instead, she narrowed her gaze on him. “I am aware you take pleasure in bullying me—”
“I take pleasure in doing much more than bullying you,” he assured in a low voice. “Remove your drawers.”
Jocey took note of the fact that his tone brooked absolutely no argument from her this time. That she would obey or else.
Her gaze again flickered to his and then away as she recognized the glittering intent in his eyes. “Remove my drawers?” she repeated uncertainly.
Jericho gave an inclination of his head. “If you please.”
No, Jocey did not please. But that implacable expression on Jericho’s face warned her he was not in a mood to countenance any further defiance from her. “If you are going to spank me again—”
“I am not.”
She blinked. “Then why must I remove my drawers?”
He bared his teeth in the parody of a grin. “Because I asked that you do so.”
She gave a snort. “That is not a good enough reason for me to remove my drawers whilst traveling in your carriage!”
He considered her through narrowed lids. “What reason would you prefer?”
“The truth.”
“Very well.” He nodded. “It has been three days since I last tasted your pussy, and I now feel the urge to do so again.”
Jocey drew her breath in sharply at such crudeness. “As I said, we are out in public.”
“I believe that will only add to the…excitement of the experience,” he drawled.
Jocey could not deny the thrill that had coursed through her at Jericho’s admission. Or the way her pussy was now weeping with the juices of her arousal and her nipples hard and aching.
She had been so sure that Jericho intended to spank her again, had not expected— “You seriously intend to—to—” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“Lick your pussy? Yes, I do,” he confirmed mildly.
Jocey’s physical arousal was now such she was trembling with anticipation. “This is not just another form of punishment, is it?” she said warily.
His brows rose. “What sort of punishment did you have in mind?”
“That you intend for me to remove my drawers on the promise of pleasure before spanking me instead!”
He gave a half smile. “Remove your drawers, and you will find out.”
Arousal and wariness continued to war inside her. On the one hand, Jocey now ached to have Jericho’s mouth upon her, to know that pleasure again. But on the other, she had disobeyed him by leaving the house earlier and knew how angry he had been when he arrived at Germaine House.
She was very aware of Jericho’s narrowed gaze upon her as she shuffled on the seat so she could reach beneath her gown and unfasten and then slide her drawers down to her ankles, before removing them completely.
“Skirt up and legs apart,” Jericho growled, having to bend at the waist to accommodate his height as he crossed the carriage.
Jocey chewed on her bottom lip. “Should we not pull the curtains over the windows first?”
“No.”
Jocey’s hands trembled anew as she slowly pulled the front of her skirt up to her thighs, revealing the tops of her stockings and her white garters adorned with pink rosebuds and ribbons.
“Higher.”
She breathed shallowly as she pulled her skirt higher still, her gaze averted as she revealed the dark, damp curls covering her mound.
“Legs apart.” Jericho’s cock, already half-aroused, became fully engorged when Jocelyn obediently parted her legs.
His mouth filled with saliva while he moved down onto his knees to gaze at her clit peeping out erect and engorged amidst dark curls. Her nether lips were a deep and swollen pink, and glistening with her juices. Jocelyn had the prettiest pussy it had ever been his pleasure to gaze upon.
Jericho placed his hands upon her thighs as he lowered his head, giving a low groan as the delicious taste of her lubricating juices burst upon his tongue, both sweet and addictive. He lapped them up greedily as Jocelyn’s legs relaxed beneath the grip of his hands and she slid farther to the edge of the seat to allow him greater access.
A glance up revealed her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, neck arched, her breasts quickly rising and falling as she breathed unevenly.
His groan turned to a possessive growl as his tongue rasped along the seam of her channel and then higher, to where her clit now throbbed and pulsed for his attention.
Jocey was once again swept along in a maelstrom of emotions. Arousal. Excitement at the forbidden. But most of all, the pleasure and intimacy of having Jericho’s mouth upon her once again.
He had said this was not a punishment, and surely if he was pleasuring her, he could not still be angry with her.
If he was, Jocey did not care. Did not care about anything other than the ecstasy of having Jericho’s mouth on her once again.
It was impossible to stem her cry of release as his rasping and marauding tongue lashed against her erect nubbin, sending her into a now-familiar paroxysm of pleasure that caused her body to tremble and quake.
“The grooms and driver—”
“Will be envious of my good fortune,” Jericho dismissed gruffly, his breath hot against her sensitive flesh before he returned to lapping up the flow of her release. The soft pad of his thumb stroked her nubbin to prolong her climax.
Jocey was boneless and mindless by the time Jericho sat back on his booted heels.
He licked her juices from his lips before speaking. “Do you intend to disobey me again?”
It took tremendous effort to rouse herself enough to be able to answer him. “Are you going to continue to hold me captive at Pomeroy House?”
“It is for your own good—”
“It is for your good!” Jocey straightened her skirts so that she was no longer exposed like a bawd, an angry flush warming her cheeks as she glared at him. “Until you are sure I am not guilty of treason and murder.”
Jericho knew, as he rose silently to his feet and resumed his seat across from Jocelyn, the accusation was well-founded. He did not want to believe Jocelyn guilty of those things, but he still had no proof she was not.
Now that he was firmly in the midst of the devastation Worthington’s and Lady Priscilla’s deaths had on their families and friends alike, he could not, in all conscience, simply take Jocelyn’s word on the matter. He knew that a couple of The Sinners had done that with the lady they were to investigate, but one of their number had not been murdered at the time. Worthington’s and Lady Prudence’s deaths shed a whole different light on the subject.
One which Jericho knew required he should not give in to the aching desire he felt to make love to Jocelyn at every opportunity.
Whether Jocelyn believed him or not, there was the possibility she was now in danger.
That they all were.
“I do not wish to go, and there is nothing you can do or say which will make me.”
Jericho scowled his displeasure at Jocelyn’s absolute refusal to accede to his request. “It is only dinner at Stonewell’s.”
“Who is another of The Sinners and so already believes me to be as guilty of treason and murder as you do.” She gave a firm shake of her head. “You must go if you wish, but I shall not.”
Jericho bit back his impatience with difficulty. They had been back in London for three days now, and Jocelyn had made it clear to him for every one of those days how much she chafed at being kept a virtual prisoner at Pomeroy House. Stonewell’s dinner invitation, arrived by messenger this morning, had seemed to Jericho the ideal way in which Jocelyn might be allowed to socialize whilst remaining under his watchful eye. He had visited her in her parlor to inform her of the invitation, under the illusion of that surety.
Her reaction now told him how wrong he had been to assume anything where Jocelyn was concerned.
He scowled darkly. “Stonewell is far too well mannered to allude to the subject in front of his other guests.”
“What you mean is that his other guests are not even aware of The Sinners’ investigations,” she scorned, giving another shake of her head. “But he knows I am one of the ladies under suspicion of having committed that crime. As do I. And I am not prepared to put myself through such scrutiny as the duke will no doubt give me the whole evening. It is bad enough that I have you looking at me with suspicion every day, I am not about to subject myself to more of the same this evening from the haughty and imposing Duke of Stonewell.”
“You are behaving childishly.”
Her eyes flashed. “On the contrary, I am behaving as the indignant innocent I am.”
Jericho sighed his frustration with Jocelyn’s stubbornness. He had no idea who the other guests would be at Stonewell’s this evening, but he did know he would be happier if Jocelyn were with him. He had told himself that was because if she was with him, he would at least know she was not trying to leave the house without his knowledge, and so possibly put herself in danger. But her refusal now told him the real reason was that he would much prefer to have Jocelyn’s company this evening than anyone else’s.
Her refusal to comply infuriated him. “I thought you would enjoy being out of the house for several hours.”
“Then you thought wrong!”
He quirked one dark brow. “And if I should make it an order that you accompany me this evening?”
Jocey felt the warmth enter her cheeks at how effectively Jericho had last “punished” her for having disobeyed him. He said it was not a punishment, nor had it felt such at the time, but thinking of his behavior three days ago had brought Jocey to a different conclusion. One in which she now considered his having pleasured her so thoroughly as a way of asserting his control over her. A conclusion that had been added to by the fact Jericho had more or less ignored her presence since.
She knew she felt a deeper resentment toward him because her body tingled and ached every time she so much as thought of Jericho’s last “punishment.”
She raised her chin. “Perhaps I should simply go without drawers in future so as to allow you easy access to my bare bottom.”
“Did I ask you to bare your bottom?”
“Not yet, but I have no doubt that will be your next command.”
His nostrils flared, and his jaw tightened. “You are being an unreasonable chit.”
“And you are a manipulative bastard,” she returned, her shoulders back in challenge.
To her utmost surprise, after the briefest of pauses, Jericho first smile and then laughed. Not with that bitter irony or skepticism she had become used to from him, but a purely spontaneous laugh of appreciation.
He looked years younger, almost boyish, and so handsome, Jocey’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at him.
“What?” He tilted his head in query, a smile still curving his lips.
It took every effort of Jocey’s will to harden her heart against his boyish appeal. “I was considering what you might have looked and been like as a boy.”
Jericho’s humor faded. “Thanks to my mother, I was as cynical in my teen years as I am now, in regard to a woman’s machinations and manipulations.”
“I have used neither toward you,” Jocelyn defended indignantly.
No, Jericho could not say she ever had.
Not to his knowledge anyway, he allowed with a dark scowl.
When he had taken up Jocelyn’s guardianship three years ago, she had been a very young and impressionable young lady, eager to explore Society. Those same three years had seen her grow in confidence and beauty, but it was not a beauty he had ever seen her use to manipulate her own ends.
The more time that passed, the more Jericho became convinced she was not the spy. Fueled, perhaps, by the knowledge Jocelyn was a generous and giving lover, and her pleasure was equally as honest and unreserved.
Did that same honesty apply when she categorically denied having committed treason against the Crown?
Jericho was now inclined to believe it did.
And if that was so, then his own treatment of Jocelyn this past week was despicable. “What would you like to do this evening?” he prompted.
Jocelyn’s eyes widened. “I was not aware that what I like or dislike was of any interest to you.”
Jericho bit back his irritation. “Forget your annoyance with me for one moment and answer my question. Please,” he added tersely.
Her brows rose. “What I would like to do?”
“Yes.”
Jocey had become so accustomed this past week to not being allowed to consider her own freedom of movement—the one time she had, Jericho had made his displeasure felt—that to now be asked what she would prefer to do this evening was almost beyond her comprehension.
“Anything I should like?” she ventured cautiously.
He nodded. “Anything.”
“Then I would like to go out somewhere there are other people.” Being kept a virtual prisoner in Pomeroy House these past three days, with Jericho spending most of his time in his study and Lady Gwendoline still in Devon, had given Jocey an appreciation for the company of others.
“The theater, perhaps?”
She eyed him curiously. “Are you seriously considering refusing the duke’s invitation in favor of taking me out to the theater?”
Was Jericho considering that?
It would appear that he was. “Yes.”
“That is…unexpected.”
He smiled ruefully. “I am sure it is. Do you have a preference for Drury Lane or Covent Garden?”
She gave a shake of her head, obviously clearly still surprised by his offer. “I am happy to leave that for you to decide.”
Jericho sincerely hoped he did not have reason to regret that decision.