Because We Belong (Because You Are Mine #3)(60)
“Let go of me,” she exclaimed desperately. She turned and walked away.
“Francesca,” Ian grated out, his frustration palpable. It alarmed her to hear that much emotion in the voice of someone who was typically so in control.
It pained her.
She kept walking toward the closest door, barely holding in an avalanche of emotion herself, blindly seeking an escape. She reached for a door randomly, but it opened before she touched it. Clarisse stepped out, her smile upon seeing Francesca sagging when she noticed her expression. Francesca said nothing, just plunged into the dining room and slammed the door abruptly behind her.
* * *
Ian started to charge after her, but paused at Anne’s quiet warning.
“No, Ian. Let her be for now.”
He made a rough sound of pure frustration and came to an abrupt halt at the sound of the dining room door slamming shut behind Francesca. Clarisse looked at him and jumped, giving a tiny squeak of alarm. From the periphery of his awareness, he noticed how pale the maid looked as she stared at him with huge eyes. What did she see, looking at him in that moment? He’d frightened Clarisse.
Gerard approached. Ian clenched his teeth. He really needed to get a handle on this fury he’d been experiencing toward Gerard. It was fueled by jealousy.
Wasn’t it?
“Remind me never to get on Francesa’s bad side,” Gerard said in an attempt at levity.
“Shut up, Gerard,” Ian ground out aggressively. He saw his cousin’s eyes flash with anger, but he was too irritated to apologize. He strode across the Great Hall and opened the door to the sitting room. The abrupt manner in which he shut it undoubtedly conveyed that he wanted to be left alone.
* * *
“How long do you have?” Gerard murmured later as he pulled Clarisse into his suite and closed the door.
“Only an hour or so. I have to help with the lunch since Mina is sick.”
“Long enough,” Gerard said, placing his hand along the side of her throat and leaning down to kiss her. He immediately began to undress her, not in the mood for wooing. Not that wooing was required. Clarisse was young and biddable and more than willing to warm the future Earl of Stratham’s bed. She arched against him as he unzipped her dress, pressing her breasts against his ribs, her hands moving over him, eager to please.
Very eager.
He removed her dress uniform and draped it in the crook of his arm. She plastered herself against him, her blue eyes springing wide when she worked her hand between their bodies and touched his erection. He was hard as a rock. He couldn’t seem to get rid of his flagrant erection since last night no matter how many times he masturbated, which is why he’d subtly signaled to Clarisse earlier in the Great Hall, silently ordering her to his room for this unusual daytime tryst. His arousal was such that his hand would not suffice.
He needed to rid himself of this grinding sexual tension. He required concentration to discern the last part of the recorded sequence of Ian at his computer. At least he’d placed that camera eye in the perfect place in Ian’s room.
“I suppose given this,” Clarisse glanced down significantly at his cock, “you don’t want a report on Francesca until afterward? I have some important information, you know.”
“Like that she didn’t spend the night in her room?”
She looked surprised. Gerard smiled grimly. “I have my ways of getting information, too, little one. I’m worried. Things between Ian and her are growing quite volatile. You saw how they were in the Great Hall earlier.”
“Yes. Mr. Noble looked . . . scary. But do you really think he’s dangerous?”
“He’s unstable. I’m afraid he might have more in common with his mother than any of us like to admit. I can tell Anne and James are worried about it, but they don’t like to say anything. It’s too difficult of a topic for them, as much as they’ve suffered with watching Helen’s descent into madness. Ian’s state of mind is why I’ve had you looking out for Francesca. Sadly, it looks as if her feelings for him haven’t been dampened by his volatility. It’s not going to end up anywhere good between them,” he stated grimly.
He ignored Clarisse’s concerned expression and pulled her over to his bed without removing her lingerie, panties, and shoes. She had to half jog to keep up with him, her breasts bouncing in the push-up bra she wore.
“Bend over the bed,” he said shortly. “You were right. I’m not in the mood to wait.”
“Yes sir.”
She did as she was told, and he smiled as he reached into the pocket of her dress still draped over his arm. He took out her Belford passkey. Clarisse had recently unwisely informed him that she frequently got in trouble from the maid supervisor for misplacing her key. Unfortunately for her, he’d learned that Clarisse had a history of getting herself into trouble, a fact that Gerard planned to use to his advantage. He opened a drawer on the bedside table and dropped the key inside before removing a bottle of lubricant and tossing aside the dress.
He didn’t demand that she call him sir, it just slipped out every once in a while from habit. It didn’t displease him. Not in the least. If fate hadn’t been such a cruel bitch, Clarisse would have been his possession just like everything else at Belford.
He jerked down his pants and underwear and opened the bottle of lubricant. He approached her, rubbing the silky liquid onto his raging erection as he did so. She wouldn’t be prepared for this quick of an entry, but he was, and that was all that counted.