Lord Wyndham's Legacy

"Sit down, Miss Wyndham!" he said tightly, the muscle in his jaw twitching erratically. He grabbed her arm and propelled her toward the nearest bench, shoving her down.

Janus winched slightly as her tender posterior thumped against the hard marble. She stared up at him with apprehension wondering if he would start foaming about the mouth any moment now. He leaned over her, his eyes glittering enigmatically.

"Then why are you here?" he asked menacingly, his voice low.

"It . . . it doesn’t concern you," she stammered bravely.

He stood up and with military bearing began to pace back and forth in front or her. "Doesn’t concern me! Doesn’t concern me, the wench says! I beg to differ, it does concern me very much. Tell me, ma’am. By chance is your family given to insanity, or is it only you?"

"If . . . if anyone present is touched in the upper works, my lord, it is not I."

Fane glanced at her with dawning comprehension. "I assure you, ma’am, I an not a candidate for bedlam. Angered and provoked beyond endurance, perhaps, but not demented. However, I will not guarantee my mental state if you continue to try my patients. I ask you again, why are you here?" Janus remained silent. "Do you wish me to resume spanking you?"

"I will thank you, sir, to . . . to remember that I am a lady. It would not be seemly," she countered nibbling nervously on her lower lip as his eyes raked over her, then sparkled disconcertingly as he moved stealthy toward her. "You are a gentleman, are . . . are you not?"

He continued until he stood directly in front of her. Leaning over, he placed one arm on either side of her effectively pinning her to the bench. His face was just inches from hers, his eyes probing hers. An odd sensation swept over Janus, and her heart began to pound rapidly. A rush of heat flushed her cheeks then tingled its way down her body into her abdomen.

"Ladies do not skulk about wearing men’s breeches. Therefore, I do not feel obligated to act like a gentleman," he answered softly, the timber of his voice sending chills through her. "What is your pleasure, my lady, a proper beating, or the truth?"

"The mystery of the missing volume has been solved," Fane announced cheerfully as he emerged from the passage waving the leather bound book in her direction. He walked over and placed the dust-encrusted tome into her hands. "You were right. Your grandfather has left you a clue. When I reached the end of the passage, there was a small cubicle with naught but a moldering straw bed, a chair and a table with this lying in the center of it." His smile of pleasure turned into one of appreciation as his eyes drifted over the goodly portion of pale pink flesh displayed through the tattered remnants of her dress. "I think however, you should change that gown before we study the tome’s contents."

Janus followed the direction of his gaze. Along with a large rent in the back, the skirt had been torn completely free from the bodice of her dress from side to back, the petticoat along with it, leaving her waist and a goodly portion of pale pink flesh exposed to view.

"Oh my, Mary will kick up a devil of a dust should she see this," Janus giggled too jubilant at the recovery of the volume to remain distressed. "Shall we meet in the library in half an hour, say?"

"Make it an hour. I wish to divest myself of this grime also. There is, however, one more thing that needs to be done before you depart," he stated enigmatically, stepping close to her.

"W . . . what is that?" Janus stuttered flustered by Fane’s proximity and the mischievous sparkle that had just sprung into his eyes.

"This," he answered drawing her into his arms. He lowered his mouth to her lips and gently kissed her, his hand sliding sensually down her spine as he pressed her to the length of him.

Janus melted against him, her body responding to the call of passion quite of its own accord. The book slipped from her fingers and dropped to the floor unnoticed as her arms automatically reached up to encircle his neck. As their kiss deepened, her mouth parted accepting him. He moaned, his grip tightening about her pulling her so close that she could feel the urgent pounding of his heart, the hardness of his muscles and the vibrant heat of his hand where it caressed her exposed flesh. As quickly as he had embraced her, he released her, his lips lingering lovingly for an instant before he stepped back. Janus’s head spun in giddy rapture as she stared up at him in wide-eyed wonder.

"Perhaps it is I who should learn to leave well enough alone," he whispered huskily. He bent over and picked up the fallen tome placing it in her trembling hands. "It is fortunate for you, Janus, that I am a man of honor. Now go, before my principles desert me."