Page 37 of Wicked Games

It all sounded so plausible. It was just the type of dramatic, romantic gesture I would be capable of.

“I think it is time I now obey your wishes and move it into my bedroom,” he continued to purr into my ear. My stomach clenched as I gripped the folds of my gown, trying to keep my breathing slow and even. Desperately trying to hide his effect on my senses. Everything about what he was saying more than hinted at a previous intimacy between the two of us. I almost wanted that to be true; at least it would lessen my shame and guilt and explain my willingness to just lie back and spread open my legs any time he even looked in my direction.

I looked up at my portrait. Now I was seeing it through his eyes. My bold gaze seemed to take on new meaning. My eyes seemed to be hiding a secret. Did I know this was being painted to hang over my lover’s bed? Is this why Richard seemed to know my body so well, my deep, dark, and twisted desires I myself didn’t know existed?

Had we been lovers for long? I know he often calls me “my love.” What if this was all true? What if in my own delirium I was betraying a man who loved me by denying that love even existed? If that were the case then what Richard was doing was not out of cruelty but out of love.

I looked up at the portrait again. Surely something like this would have taken months to paint? Far longer than I thought I knew Richard. It also looked old, the tell-tale cobalt blues fading into browns with age as I had learned in an old art history class.

The press of his hand broke my chaotic reverie.

The tips of his fingers began to run up and down my spine as he spoke. “I like the idea of staring into those big, gorgeous emerald eyes of yours as I grasp my cock and pleasure myself at the thought of the next time I get to feel your warm body accept me deep inside.”

Dear God, I am going to faint.

The corset felt tighter than ever before. I couldn’t breathe. Stiffening my back and shoulders, I stepped away from his intoxicating embrace.

Today he looked every inch the country gentleman, like something out of a movie. With a dark, tight-fitting frock coat and buff breeches tucked into polished black riding boots. As I looked down, I saw a riding crop dangling loosely from his right hand. Images of me draped over his lap while he punished my bare ass with that same crop flashed before my eyes.

Is this a fantasy or a memory?

I honestly didn’t know.

From the look in his eyes as he followed my gaze, I very much believed if it wasn’t a memory now, it had the possibility of becoming a future one. At his knowing, raised eyebrow, I turned my head away.

Pulling at the high, stiff collar of my dress, I took a few steps backward, away from his intense presence. “I… I need to go to the… um… the green room,” I stammered, trying to recall what Parker said was my usual routine.

“Then I shall escort you there,” he said as he took a few steps toward me and offered his elbow.

“No… I’m fine. I can find it on my own,” I hurriedly assured him as I turned away and started to head to the left.

“Elizabeth.”

His authoritative tone stopped me in my tracks. I could hear the heavy clack of his boots against the polished wood as he strode briskly up to me. I kept my eyes and head lowered, focused on the twisted folds of my dress. I wished I had the courage to spit out Lizzie defiantly, correcting his continued use of my formal name instead of the nickname I preferred, if only to have a tiny bit of rebellion… but I didn’t.

The man both intimidated and fascinated the hell out of me. Each time I saw him I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run away or toward him. All I did know was that he was dangerous… not just for whatever his involvement was in this current charade we were playing out, but for how he was able to bend me to his will with just the tone of his voice or a look.

I felt his fingers under my chin as he raised my face to look at his own. “I really must insist,” he intoned darkly. His eyes shining like obsidian even in the bright morning sunlight, giving no quarter.

I couldn’t but think of that nursery rhyme as he led me away in the opposite direction I had initially headed.

“Will you walk into my parlor?” said the spider to the fly.

Years ago, I memorized that poem to recite in a theater class in high school. Everyone knew the opening line but few knew how it ended.

Up jump’d the cruel spider, and fiercely held her fast.

He dragg’d her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,

Within his little parlor; but she ne’er came out again!

CHAPTER 13

LIZZIE

The green room was actually a massive conservatory linked to the main house by a long glass walkway. I couldn’t hide an exclamation of wonder as we crossed the threshold. It truly was magnificent. I felt as though I were stepping into Eden. A heavy steel frame secured large panels of glass leading up to a massive dome ceiling. Large lush palm trees towered over us from every corner. Under their shade was every type of flower and fruit tree including orange trees, pink camellias, purple Canterbury bells, blood-red dahlias. There were even gigantic water lilies, lilacs, and myrtles.

Shifting patterns of crimson, amber, cobalt, and purple colored the black and white floor tile. As I looked around me, I could see my allusion to Eden was not far off the mark. Impressive panels of stained glass depicted the Genesis story of Adam and Eve. My favorite was the one of Satan in the form of a snake seducing Eve. His sinewy body seemed to shimmer with emerald and gold in the warm sunlight as it wrapped around Eve’s small waist only to curl up around one breast. The image was both sinister and sensual at once.

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