Page 22 of Wicked Games

I turned to face Richard, accusation glowing in my eyes. By now I was several steps up the staircase and despite towering over him, he still somehow seemed taller and stronger than me. He was watching my reaction intently, his lips thinned in anger.

“Do as you are told, Elizabeth.”

I felt a tug on my upper arm; without taking my eyes off Richard, I stumbled up several more steps before I finally turned and allowed myself to be taken away.

At least I knew one thing… I wasn’t losing my mind.

The bedroom I was shown to was nothing like I had ever seen before. Decorated in light tones of apple green and cream, there were ornamental wood panels with carved flowers and birds along the walls. In the center of each panel were several small gilt-framed paintings of the English countryside. There was a gold-embroidered chaise lounge placed thoughtfully by a large window to catch the sunlight for reading and a beautiful dressing table with scroll-work legs and a large gold mirror flanked by candle brackets. The bed took up a large part of the room. Its four posters held up a heavy canopy of carved wood and silk. The coverlet was cream with green leaf work.

The whole room glowed with soft candlelight.

In the center was a large copper tub filled with steaming, fragrant water.

After scanning the room to make sure it was empty, I turned to face Sally.

Taking a step toward her, I grabbed her hands and pleaded, “Richard’s not here. No one can hear us. Please, Sally. Tell me what’s going on. Why is everyone pretending we are in the Victorian age?”

Pulling one of her hands free, she patted my shoulder. “Lady Elizabeth, you’ve had a dreadful shock from your parents’ death. A woman’s delicate mind cannot handle such grief. You are very fortunate His Grace has taken you on as his ward.”

Wrenching my other hand free, I secured Richard’s coat more firmly around my waist and turned in frustration to stare at the low flickering flames inside the fireplace.

“You must be chilled. Let me stoke the fire for you,” offered Sally as she crossed to the marble mantel and grabbed a fire poker.

As I watched her thin form bend over to concentrate on her task, my eyes drifted to a large heavy vase perched atop the mantel. Briefly I thought about sending it crashing down on her head and running out of the room, but I knew that would accomplish nothing. There was very little chance I would make it off the estate grounds before being captured.

Just then, a younger woman walked in. She had on an upstairs maid’s costume. Noticing my eyes on her, she bowed her head and gave me a small curtsy. She looked vaguely familiar but I couldn’t quite place her. Perhaps from the stage crew? Props? Did it matter? From the unmistakable warning look Sally was sending her, I doubt she was going to tell me anything anyway.

“Lily will take care of you now, Lady Elizabeth. I’m sure you will feel better after a long hot bath,” soothed Sally as she walked out of the room.

Silently, I stood as Lily placed several towels on a metal stand and moved them close to the fire to warm. She then walked over to the vanity and selected a small glass vial. She removed the stopper, and I watched as a glistening stream of liquid poured down into the still steaming bathwater. The room quickly filled with the scent of lavender.

Turning to me, she once more bowed her head. “Your bath is ready, Lady Elizabeth.”

There was no reason why I shouldn’t enjoy the bath. I would be lying to myself if I didn’t admit I desperately wanted to wash the feel of that awful asylum and the sticky sensation of Richard’s come off me. Taking a tentative step toward the copper tub, I allowed Lily to remove the now hopelessly wrinkled opera coat from my shoulders as I raised one leg to step into the bath.

Goosebumps rose on my pale skin as the tips of my cold toes touched the heated water. Ignoring the almost painful pricks as my body adjusted to the extreme change in temperature, I placed both feet in and grasped the sides as I lowered my body into the silky liquid. I couldn’t suppress a sigh of relief as the heat seeped deep into my muscles. Inhaling deeply, I let the fragrant scent calm me.

Closing my eyes, I leaned back, letting the curved raised metal of the tub cradle my neck.

“Shall I wash your hair?” asked Lily.

Opening my eyes, I saw Lily standing next to the tub with a large pitcher in her hand. Nodding my assent, I sat forward and leaned my head back. Warm water cascaded over my head and shoulders to pour down my back. Through slitted eyes, I watched Lily pick up a coarse-looking bar of soap and lather it between her hands before returning to my hair. The spicy scent of lemon verbena mixed with the floral scent of the lavender bathwater.

Delicate fingers smoothed over my hair, grasping small handfuls and running down the length. Soon, the repetitive motion did even more to calm my ragged nerves. After pouring several pitchers of water over my head to rinse out my hair, Lily then picked up a large natural sponge. Once more she lathered it with the same bar of soap and gently lifted my wrist out of the water. Not meeting my eyes, she ran the sponge up and down my arm. Circling around the back of the tub, she pushed my wet hair over one shoulder and caressed my back with the sponge. As she stroked it downward, I would occasionally feel the brush of her hand on my skin.

I had never been touched by another woman like this. Without really thinking about it, my hand moved between my legs. Pressing my fingers between my lips, I pushed against my clit. It still felt sore and bruised from Richard’s rough fucking not an hour earlier. With each delicate brush of Lily’s hands, I thought of his hard touch. The slightly callused feel of his hands as they ran up my thighs before brutally pulling them open. The harsh brush of his stubbled jaw against my neck and shoulder. The sound of his labored breathing as he thrust into me.

One finger dipped inside. I bit my lip at the sting of pain. The memory of the force of his cock as it hammered into my body came back to me. Lily’s hands continued to stroke my skin as I pushed my finger in deeper, relishing the pinch of pain.

I was getting off from the taboo feel of Lily’s hands and the memory of Richard’s cock.

Lily’s hands dipped beneath the surface of the water, reaching for my wrist. Startled and embarrassed at the idea she would know my hand was pressed between my legs, I flung my arm up, splashing her dress.

“I’m so sorry!”

“There is nothing to be sorry about, my lady.”

As she washed my other arm, I tried to focus my thoughts.

---