Read Online Desperate Measures (Regency Undone) by Claire Firth - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Claire Firth
Ads: Link
stifled a yawn.
‘Either you are tired or I am boring you,’ Guy said with a smile. ‘Do not let me keep you up if it is the former.’
‘ It is definitely the former, and you are right. I do find myself quite fatigued.’
She rose from the table. She didn ’t like to think of what might be coming next. Of what he might be expecting. All she could think was that if she retired sooner than he, she could pretend to be asleep when he came in and he would not disturb her.
He too rose and said in a low voice. ’Thank you for not insisting on separate rooms for our stay. It would have raised my mother’s eyebrows without a doubt and we would not then have escaped her ceaseless questions. I will leave you ample time to prepare yourself.’
For what? she wondered agitatedly, as she left the room.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As she got to the top of the stairs she was overtaken by an attack of nerves so violent that it threatened to get the better of her. The sexual act was something she had been able to dismiss from her mind for nearly a year now. Her husband had been unwell for several months before his death and she had thanked God that he had been disinclined to perform in that way - apart from that last time.
She tried to shut her mind to that memory, aware of the sense of shame that always accompanied it, but this time it would not be suppressed. She remembered how she had walked into his room to retrieve his lunch plates, to find himself lying in his bed stroking himself with rapid motions. His eyes were glazed and unfocused as they turned to where she stood in the doorway.
‘ Take me in your hand and pump me, Isabelle,’ he had grated, his voice thick with his aroused emotions.
‘ It is not good for you, in your condition,’ she had replied, walking into the room.
‘ I do not believe in doing what is good for me. It is not good for me to have no satisfaction, wife. Do as I say or I will get your chambermaid to do it.’
This was always his threat and Rosie was only a young girl still. Isabelle could not condemn her to such an act of depravity.
Her expression grim, she moved over to her husband’s bedside and took hold of his shaft. She’d had many years of practice at this and her fingers worked swiftly and competently. She closed her mind to his grunts as he thrust himself pathetically into her hand. ‘Look at me,’ he rasped. ‘Watch me.’
She did so, but the disgust in her eyes turned to alarm as she took in the puce colour of his face, the bulging eyes.
Her fingers slowed.
’ Don’t stop,’ he panted. ‘Faster.’
She feared that this was not good for him, that she should stop, but some demon within her shut her mind to that knowledge as she followed his bidding. She continued to slide her fingers along his puny length and he bucked all the harder. She could not remove her eyes from his face, and when his upper body suddenly heaved from the pillow, a great grunt of pleasure escaping him, she watched disconcerted as with one final gasp he collapsed back onto the bed, his body suddenly still.
She stared at him shocked. She could perceive no breathing, no movement. His spill, little as it was, lay wetly in her hands, the only evidence that up until a minute ago he had been a living, breathing mortal.
It took no doctor to tell her he was dead. Had she killed him with her manipulations, she thought in horror? Did that make her a murderess? She had not intended to kill him. Though she had suspected it was not good for him, she had not expected him to die.
But she could feel no sorrow, no remorse as she stood there looking down at him. He had died as he had lived, and she would not mourn his passing.
She had carefully cleaned him up, removed all evidence of his final moments and then exited the room to calmly inform the household of his demise.
But it was as if something within her had died that day. A little like being on a
‘Either you are tired or I am boring you,’ Guy said with a smile. ‘Do not let me keep you up if it is the former.’
‘ It is definitely the former, and you are right. I do find myself quite fatigued.’
She rose from the table. She didn ’t like to think of what might be coming next. Of what he might be expecting. All she could think was that if she retired sooner than he, she could pretend to be asleep when he came in and he would not disturb her.
He too rose and said in a low voice. ’Thank you for not insisting on separate rooms for our stay. It would have raised my mother’s eyebrows without a doubt and we would not then have escaped her ceaseless questions. I will leave you ample time to prepare yourself.’
For what? she wondered agitatedly, as she left the room.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As she got to the top of the stairs she was overtaken by an attack of nerves so violent that it threatened to get the better of her. The sexual act was something she had been able to dismiss from her mind for nearly a year now. Her husband had been unwell for several months before his death and she had thanked God that he had been disinclined to perform in that way - apart from that last time.
She tried to shut her mind to that memory, aware of the sense of shame that always accompanied it, but this time it would not be suppressed. She remembered how she had walked into his room to retrieve his lunch plates, to find himself lying in his bed stroking himself with rapid motions. His eyes were glazed and unfocused as they turned to where she stood in the doorway.
‘ Take me in your hand and pump me, Isabelle,’ he had grated, his voice thick with his aroused emotions.
‘ It is not good for you, in your condition,’ she had replied, walking into the room.
‘ I do not believe in doing what is good for me. It is not good for me to have no satisfaction, wife. Do as I say or I will get your chambermaid to do it.’
This was always his threat and Rosie was only a young girl still. Isabelle could not condemn her to such an act of depravity.
Her expression grim, she moved over to her husband’s bedside and took hold of his shaft. She’d had many years of practice at this and her fingers worked swiftly and competently. She closed her mind to his grunts as he thrust himself pathetically into her hand. ‘Look at me,’ he rasped. ‘Watch me.’
She did so, but the disgust in her eyes turned to alarm as she took in the puce colour of his face, the bulging eyes.
Her fingers slowed.
’ Don’t stop,’ he panted. ‘Faster.’
She feared that this was not good for him, that she should stop, but some demon within her shut her mind to that knowledge as she followed his bidding. She continued to slide her fingers along his puny length and he bucked all the harder. She could not remove her eyes from his face, and when his upper body suddenly heaved from the pillow, a great grunt of pleasure escaping him, she watched disconcerted as with one final gasp he collapsed back onto the bed, his body suddenly still.
She stared at him shocked. She could perceive no breathing, no movement. His spill, little as it was, lay wetly in her hands, the only evidence that up until a minute ago he had been a living, breathing mortal.
It took no doctor to tell her he was dead. Had she killed him with her manipulations, she thought in horror? Did that make her a murderess? She had not intended to kill him. Though she had suspected it was not good for him, she had not expected him to die.
But she could feel no sorrow, no remorse as she stood there looking down at him. He had died as he had lived, and she would not mourn his passing.
She had carefully cleaned him up, removed all evidence of his final moments and then exited the room to calmly inform the household of his demise.
But it was as if something within her had died that day. A little like being on a
Similar Books
