T. A. Chase

The Ball- Part Four

THE BALL (c) 2006 T.A. Chase

Part 4:

It has been two days since the disastrous kiss in my uncle’s library. Somehow I’ve managed to avoid going to any balls. My family doesn’t miss my presence. The early morning fog carpets the ground in front of me as I ride my gelding in Hyde Park. He’s well-mannered so my mind twists and turns my encounters with the Duke.

The memories of our kiss drive me crazy with lust. Late at night I ache to be held in his arms again. Then I’d feel the tortured skin on my back and realize my infection somehow has poisoned his Grace.

It’s the only explanation I have for his searching me out and touching me. I’ve bewitched him. My father’s words are true. I am the devil’s spawn. I’ve corrupted a god and perverted him. A heaving sob rises in my chest. Once more I wonder why I didn’t die when my father begged me to after the wounds from my whipping festered. Why hang on to a life without joy or love?

I’m buried deep in my thoughts and don’t hear him approach until his gloved hand appears before my eyes to touch my own hand.

“Angel.” His voice is warm.

My gaze shoots to his face and horror fills my heart at the wound on his lip. Without thought, my fingers caress the air over it. He doesn’t flinch.

“I’m sorry.” Tears slip down my cheek. Ducking my head, I grimace. It’s bad enough he’s guessed my secret longings. He must think I’m weak with all the tears I shed around him.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s a small price to pay to be able to taste you.” He grabs my hand and lays our entwined fingers on his thigh.

Glancing wildly around, I try to free myself. “Your Grace, we mustn’t be seen like this.” Fear tracks down my spine, branching off into each scar until every muscle tenses.

“We are the only ones out here. I like touching you.”

I feel my face heat as he takes off his glove. After he strips mine from my hand, we touch skin-to-skin for the first time. His skin is rough as if he has done work without protecting them. His flesh is warm and slowly I begin to thaw. I’m paralyzed as I watch him lift my fingers to his mouth. The angry voice living in my head yells at me to pull my hand away. It demands I tell a lie and say I don’t want his Grace to touch me.

My soul ignores my mind. The part of me I’ve hidden deep to avoid punishment wants to enjoy its time in the sun. His tongue swirls around my fingertips as if he’s enjoying his favorite dessert. Tremors wrack my body and my horse shifts beneath me, reacting to the tightening of my muscles. I feel lust flood my skin as I begin to understand the depth of my depravity. I want his mouth to take my prick instead of my fingers. I need his tongue to taste my seed instead of my sweat even though I’ve never been serviced like that before.

Greyson’s blue eyes darken and I know he’s reacting to the desire that must be burning in mine. I break my gaze from his face and glance lower. The large bulge between his thighs makes my shaft twitch and swell. I long to touch him.

“We shouldn’t,” I whisper, barely loud enough to hear over my pounding heart.

Releasing my fingers from his mouth, he asks, “Why not?”

“It’s wrong.” There’s certainty in my voice. My conviction had been beaten into me over the course of several years.

“Who says it is?”

His strong grip takes my hand and places it where I long for it to be the most. Without thought, I stroke him through his breeches. He groans.

“Society. The priests. They all whisper and call this perversion.”

I fear what society and the church can do to me, but the fear doesn’t stop me as I press my palm harder against him.

He rocks his hips and moves in counter-point to my strokes. His words come out in a harsh whisper.

“I married a woman I didn’t love and shared her bed until she gave me two sons. Then I turned from her, leaving her with a broken heart. I’ve done what society and the church says I should.” He stops and grabs my hand. Silence reigns until I meet his eyes.

“All doing my duty has brought me is pain and shame. I no longer care if I lose any of what they say is important. Honor to myself now means more. I can lose it all and not miss what my life was.”

Hoof beats float down the trail towards us. Greyson kisses my hand and then lets me go. Before he disappears into the morning mist, he gives me a sad smile and asks:

“What have you got to lose?”

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