Knotted Legacy Page 13

  “Stop.” Lucia’s sharp tone startled Martha. “Keep your eyes open, pet.” Her tone was soft and commanding, warm but firm. “What do you need?”

  Martha met Lucia’s gaze. “I need to know Myfanwy’s okay with this.”

  Lucia pressed her lips together. “She’s my responsibility right now.”

  “Yes, Miss.” Martha lowered her gaze and bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling. A soft touch on her shoulder and the strong squeeze of Myfanwy’s grip made her look up.

  Myfanwy met her gaze in the mirror. Her eyes were serious, questioning. Martha tilted her head and studied her face. She’s worried she’s betrayed me because I witnessed how she responded to Lucia.

  Martha turned her head and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, lifting her shoulder to lean her cheek against Myfanwy’s hand. Her expression changed to one of love and desire, and she gave Martha’s shoulder another squeeze before she went back to her task. Lucia tapped her on the shoulder. Martha met her gaze in the mirror. The set of her mouth and depth of her expression told her all she needed to know to relax into the scene.

  Lucia and Myfanwy worked together, their motions synced, and the sensation of watching them work as they restrained her increased Martha’s excitement. She clenched and unclenched her hands on the arms of the chair. They stopped short of her elbows and, as before, Lucia finished her side then came and checked Myfanwy’s work. She tied it off and straightened. Lucia pulled Myfanwy in and kissed her, before unbuttoning several more buttons of her corset. She teased her nipples, pinching and rolling them, drawing small gasps and squeals from Myfanwy. Martha groaned as she watched them, her clit thick and needy, her desire pooling beneath her. She squirmed as much as she could within her bonds. Her mouth was dry, and she licked her lower lip.

  Lucia stepped away from Myfanwy to pass her hands over Martha’s joints. Everywhere she touched Martha’s skin burned. “Myfanwy, check her feet, make sure they are pink and warm.” Lucia gripped Martha’s chin and turned her face. She held Martha’s gaze and kissed her, taking her time, the touch of her lips making Martha ache for more. Lucia broke their kiss and Martha panted. “Myfanwy, while you’re down there, attend to her. Mouth and tongue only, she doesn’t come until I say.”

  “Yes, Miss.” The eagerness in Myfanwy’s voice made Martha’s heart ache. The first touch of her tongue threatened to make her come, but Myfanwy knew her body, knew how to keep her on the edge.

  Lucia pulled coils of the final skein of rope through her hands as she watched Martha’s face in the mirror. Martha was torn between watching Myfanwy as she kneeled, her thick hips and excitement on display in the mirror as her short skirt pulled over her hips, her face between Martha’s thighs and Lucia’s face as she drew the coils of rope through her hands. Lucia stepped behind the chair and began wrapping the thick coils of rope over Martha’s ribs, and under her breasts. She crossed them and wrapped another layer of coils. The thick white rope framing Martha’s breasts, the pressure and pleasure of being bound by Lucia mixed with the attention to her clit made her pant to keep from coming.

  “Please, Miss. I can’t. I’m going to… Oh. Please. Ahh.”

  Lucia paused in her work. “Stop, Myfanwy.” Myfanwy groaned but complied with Lucia’s direction and sat back on her heels. And Martha cried out at the loss of sensation. Lucia brushed her knuckles over Martha’s face. “Shh, pet. Trust me.”

  She finished wrapping the coils of rope around Martha. Now she was bound completely to the chair. Her legs were spread wide, arms fixed in place, her upper body completely encased with thick coils of rope. Open. Exposed. Safe. Loved. Her mind stuttered over the last bit. Love. Is this love? Or just a whim? Myfanwy loves me. Does Lucia feel anything for me? Is this relief? Entertainment? Her thoughts folded back on themselves, and Martha cursed herself for thinking. She closed her eyes and worked to get her head back in the scene.

  Lucia leaned over the back of the chair and brought her lips close to Martha’s ear. “Where did you go, pet? Am I boring you?” She reached down and flicked Martha’s nipple. The sharp sting made Martha flinch. “Let’s see what we can do to keep your attention. Myfanwy, as you were.” Myfanwy’s warm breath on her thigh and the softness of her lips as she sucked Martha’s clit sent her senses reeling.

  Lucia kept her mouth busy as she kissed and nipped Martha’s neck. With both hands she rolled and pinched her sensitized nipples. “Look at yourself, my beautiful pet. Bound for me. I love the way your nipples are so swollen and hard, the way your chest heaves as you struggle to hold on for me.”

  Martha was lost, lost in the sensations flooding her body. She was floating, the only ties to herself the mouth between her legs and the hands sending sweet spikes of pain rocketing through her body. Lucia moved a hand up to her neck, a loose collar of sinew and bone. Martha’s body shook as she tried to hold off, to go on, waiting on her Mistress’s pleasure.

  “Oh please, Miss. Please let me. I can’t…” Martha struggled against her bonds, her breath ragged. “Please, Miss. Let me come for you. Please.” The last was a shout.

  Lucia held her gaze in the mirror, pure triumph in her eyes. She flexed her fingers on Martha’s throat. The threat sent her tumbling into an abyss of pleasure. “Come for me, pet. Myfanwy, fuck her. Now.”

  Myfanwy sucked hard and thrust her fingers deep, and Martha screamed as she came undone. A surge of wetness poured from her. The sounds and sensations of Myfanwy as she thrust deep while she sucked and lapped at her drew out her pleasure. She closed her eyes, riding the high of sensations, and came again, enveloped by a floating feeling. Her body shook with aftershocks as she came once more with a long low groan.

  Warm hands stroked her as the ropes were unwrapped. No. Leave them. Let me stay wrapped in you. Yours. She shivered and fought back tears. She wanted to stay swathed in her bonds, cozy in her cocoon of sensation, the center of Lucia’s attentions. Cherished.

  Myfanwy’s strong hand squeezed her shoulder. “Drink, love.” She held the glass for Martha as she drank. Lucia’s firm voice whispered in her ear. “Stand up slowly.”

  Myfanwy supported her on the left and Lucia on the right. Martha concentrated on moving her feet. She trembled, and Myfanwy pulled her closer against her warm body. Her legs bumped against the edge of the bed, and she sat down. Lucia’s arm was around her shoulders as she lowered her on to the mattress. Myfanwy lifted Martha’s legs and climbed in the bed next to her. She curled her body around Martha, settling her head on her breast, grounding her. The duvet was pulled up over them, and Martha closed her eyes. Myfanwy rubbed her body, her hands soothing and warm. Where is Lucia? Is she leaving aftercare to Myfanwy? Was it why she asked for both of us, so she didn’t have to be bothered with aftercare? Bothered with me.

  Martha leaned her head against Myfanwy’s soft breasts, cozying into the comfort of her familiar body and her love. She pushed away her disappointment over Lucia’s lack of presence. The ache in her body was delicious, the ache in her heart torture.

  “Can you sit up, pet?” Lucia’s rested her hand on Martha’s head.

  Myfanwy released Martha and pushed herself up in the bed. She arranged the pillows for Martha and helped her sit up.

  Martha kept her head down, avoiding Lucia’s gaze, fearful of what she would see, or not see in her eyes, afraid for Lucia to know the extent of her need and want.

  Lucia reached over, and with firm fingers she lifted Martha’s chin. She stared into Martha’s eyes as she spoke. “Well done, pet.” She leaned in and kissed her.

  Martha pressed into the kiss and wrapped her arms around Lucia, pulling her down into her embrace. She held the kiss, taking her time. Lucia opened to her, her mouth echoing the passion of Martha’s kiss. She broke the kiss and saw in Lucia’s unguarded expression the truth. She cares for me. And doesn’t know what to do about it.

  “Let me go, pet. You’ll wrinkle my gown.” Lucia patted Martha’s face. “You need to eat.”

  She left and disappeared behin
d the changing screen in her room. She rolled out a serving cart with covered dishes, a water pitcher, wineglasses, and a bottle of red wine.

  Where the hell did the food come from? Did one of the others deliver it? Oh hell. I can hear the rumors now. Fuck. The staff will know. They won’t respect me. Fuck me, why did I do this?

  Lucia pursed her lips. “You’re thinking again. What is it, pet?” She poured a glass of water and held it out for Myfanwy.

  “Thank you, Miss.” Myfanwy took the glass from Lucia’s hand.

  “The food. Who delivered it?” Martha twisted the sheets in her hands, working hard to keep the edge out of her voice, knowing from Lucia’s raised eyebrows she had failed.

  “Worried your staff will know you’re keeping company with me?” Lucia’s voice was like ice water down Martha’s back.

  “No. I…”

  Lucia pressed her mouth together in a thin line. “I had it delivered prior to your arrival. If you’re worried about your reputation, you should go.” She spun her on her heel and walked to where Martha had left her clothes. She bent and gathered them up in her arms. Lucia’s heels made a sharp sound on the floor as she stalked back to the side of the bed carrying Martha’s clothes. “Go.” She tossed Martha’s clothes to the floor next to the bed. “Now you’ve got what you came for.”

  Myfanwy dug her fingers into Martha’s thigh. “We can go, Mistress, if it pleases you.” She shot a hard look at Lucia.

  Martha looked down, avoiding Lucia’s gaze again, fearful of what she would see in her eyes. I’ve hurt her. I’m an ass. I want to stay. I can’t leave. Not like this. Please let me stay. Feed me. Care for me. Let me know I didn’t imagine what I saw in your eyes.

  Lucia turned away from Martha and Myfanwy and walked over to the fireplace. Her back to the bed, her shoulders set square, hands clasped behind her back. Martha raised Myfanwy’s hand to her mouth. She kissed her fingertips as she looked into her eyes. Martha placed her hand on the covers, giving it a squeeze before she left the bed and lowered herself to her knees. She crawled to her Mistress’s side and waited.

  She’s done. Ask. Beg. Apologize for not trusting her. Beg. Martha crept forward and kissed the top of Lucia’s shoe. She pressed her forehead to the floor. “Forgive me, Miss. Please forgive me.”

  Lucia reached down and wound her hand in Martha’s hair and yanked hard, arching her back, half lifting her off the floor. “This is the last time. If you don’t trust me enough to protect you, then we can’t do this. I won’t be questioned. I demand complete trust and expect complete obedience.” Her eyes were hard, the blue gone dark. “Or you can find someone else to get you off like you want.” She released Martha, who sank to the floor.

  The only sound in the room was the soft tick of the mantel clock. Lucia walked away from her, and Martha stayed in place, weighing her options. I could beg. Agree to her demands. Grovel at her feet. Or say my safe word and stand up, take Myfanwy, and leave. Walk away from her and try to gather the ragged parts of my soul back together. Why did I think I could do this here? Why did I think I could have more?

  The sharp rattle of a cover being removed from a dish shook her from her thoughts. “Get off the floor and into this bed, pet. And don’t test my patience again.”

  Martha snapped her head up and crawled as fast as she could to her Mistress’s bed.

  Chapter Twelve

  “YOU’VE BEEN SPENDING a lot of time with her.” Elaine plopped a scoop of scrambled eggs on her plate.

  Martha sat back in her chair. “Is it a problem? I wasn’t aware I had to clear with you who I spent my time with.”

  Elaine forked a bite of egg into her mouth, avoiding Martha’s gaze.

  Martha sighed. It was easier when Elaine was angry than when she pulled in and remained silent. She drank her tea and waited.

  “I’m only thinking of you.” Elaine finished half of her eggs before she spoke. “She’s trouble. I can sense it.”

  Martha pursed her lips. “What do you base your assessment on other than your jealousy? Afraid she’ll give you a run for your money in the Cruel Mistress of the Year award?”

  Elaine narrowed her eyes. “How would you know what she’s like as a Mistress?”

  Martha shifted in her seat. “I’ve observed her.” She took a sip of tea, willing herself to be calm and not give Elaine any information to use against her. “If she is going to work here after the Onyx closes, then we need to know how she is, how to market her services to guests.”

  “Work here? When was I consulted about this? I own half of this business after all.” Elaine pushed her plate away, spilling what was left of her eggs.

  Martha twisted her napkin, her anger rising. “I spoke to you about it when I returned from the Onyx, not that you listened to me. It is part of my obligation to Madame. I promised to provide a place for Lucia to live and work if she chooses to stay. She inherits most of Madame’s estate. She won’t have to work if she doesn’t want to, but if she chooses she will have a place to live and work here.”

  Elaine pressed her lips together in a thin line. “I suppose my wishes don’t matter? It’s all about you. And your obligation.” She snorted. “I don’t understand you, and why you ever committed yourself to her.”

  Martha threw her napkin down on the table. “I don’t care what you think. And we are not having this discussion again.” She stood up, rage and sorrow numbing her. “She’ll be dead soon, and then you won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

  Martha walked away, ignoring Elaine’s voice as she called her. What do normal families argue over? What am I going to do? I can’t keep it a secret forever.

  MARTHA OPENED HER email. She clicked through the messages quickly, answering those that only took a few minutes and filing others that required a more delicate response and guest inquiries into the respective folders. On the walk to her office she had calmed down. She knew she would have to address the issue of Lucia with Elaine, but at this point she didn’t believe Lucia would stay. She sensed the way Lucia always had one foot out of the door. No commitments. She’s been clear. Martha chewed her lip. She won’t change her mind. No matter what happens. She’ll leave to go back to the Onyx when Madame needs her and not come back. She opened the email folder with guest inquiries. She sent her standard response with the guest application paperwork to the first two emails.

  She opened the next email and was startled to see a full screen shot of Robin and another person in the middle of a scene. Robin was bound to a Saint Andrew’s cross, facing out. The other person was holding a flogger and had her fingers buried between Robin’s legs. Along with the picture was a demand for money. The body and face were blurred in the photograph. A cold sweat trickled down Martha’s back. How the hell did this happen?

  Each guest’s luggage was searched on arrival, and the intake bathing experience provided the opportunity to search the guests for hidden recording devices. No one should have been able to smuggle a camera into the playrooms. She scrolled down, studying the shot. Maybe this wasn’t taken at Rowan House. Maybe this was her game all along. But why wait four months into her contract? The email continued with screen shots of two other scenes. Robin’s face was clear in both of them. Martha studied the sender’s address. Who? Time. I need time. And help.

  She wrote back: These photos are very generic and could have been taken anywhere, why do you expect me to believe they were taken at Rowan House? Let alone pay you not to send them to the police? Provide proof these were taken at Rowan House.

  She hit send and sat back in her chair. She pulled up a spreadsheet with the guest list and worker assignments since Robin had arrived. Millie. I need to talk to Millie. And Elaine. Fuck, I wish I had left it better with her. She pulled out a legal pad. She isolated Robin’s assignments and made a list of the clients she had been with since she had started. She studied the list of guests. All were long-time clients, none of whom would need money. Robin? Maybe she set this up. She is the common denominator in all the photos.
But why? She makes good money. She’s earned some large tips, seems happy. Is it all an act? Lucia. I need to talk to Lucia. Not Elaine yet. She’ll go crazy and fire her and then we won’t be able to figure who is doing this.

  She turned away from her computer. All these years and we’ve never had any trouble like this. What would Madame do? She pulled out her phone and scrolled to Madame’s private number. She pushed the button and waited for the call to connect.

  An unfamiliar voice answered. “Madame’s line.”

  “This is Martha MacLeod. May I speak to Madame?”

  “Yes, Martha. This is Gia. Madame is resting. Is it urgent? Should I wake her?”

  “No. I’ll try later. Please give her my…” Regards? Love? What the hell to say?

  Gina’s voice was warm. “Your love, Miss?”

  Martha wanted to climb through the phone and hug Gia. “Yes. Gia. My love.”

  “Very good, Miss.”

  Martha hung up, trying not to think about the time when she wouldn’t be able to call Madame for advice. She placed her phone on her desk and went to the window and looked out at the mountains in the distance, and the land surrounding her house.

  Her email alert sounded. She sat down and opened the email from the blackmailer.

  Will this do? This time the photo featured Robin and Rachel, with Elaine’s face clearly visible.

  Martha did not respond to the email. She closed her laptop and drummed her fingers on the desk. She looked at the portraits covering the walls of her office. Rowan House had been their family home for more generations than Martha could count. Like hell. Like bloody hell I’m going to give one penny to a blackmailer. She clenched her jaw. I don’t know who you are, but you are about to find out why you should not mess with a MacLeod. Martha searched her guest list. Jaya Pomroy. Maybe she can help. She quickly composed her message. Her hand shook as she pressed Send. She picked up her phone, stuffed it in her pocket, and went to find Lucia.