Free Owning Arabella by Shirl Anders

lick the lips, suck on your tender bud, and taste this nectar that wets my fingers."
    "Darth," she gasped, and in her uncertainty, her hands instinctively reached for the blindfold.
    "No," Darth hissed on a sharp note, and the bed shifted beneath them as his hands grasped her wrists and pressured them above her head again. "The blindfold stays," he said. "I would allow you nearly anything but this," he finished.
    Arabella sucked in a tight breath at the meaning of Darth's words, and she heard him curse. She knew that he had not meant to say it. He could not have meant for those words to spill from his lips, but he had . . . and now was her chance. She would not let him take them back. Let him wonder at her choice.
    "Clothes," she gasped. "I beg you for some clothes."
    Darth answer was a harsh unintelligible sound of denial, but the sound of his voice was sneering when he said, "Clothes then, Arabella. I am a fool and fools must always pay the price."
    The bed shifted and Arabella knew that Darth had left her side. She should be relieved, but her only thought was that if she had clothes, it would be her first step to getting Nicolas back. She'd had no hope before without clothes, but now . . .
     

Chapter Ten
     
    Darth grimaced as he struggled to put on his boots. He was forced to lean against the wall in the hallway outside his bedchamber to accomplish the task. The tussle between foot and boot aggravated his bad humor. Why would Arabella ask for clothes, when she could have easily asked for her virginity . . . or freedom? She was as intelligent, as she was beautiful, he concluded. She had not gambled too highly on the strength of his words, or his conviction to them. She asked for something small and reasonable, gambling she would receive it.
    He was a fool for saying what he had, and further for allowing her the boon. It showed him clearly how much Arabella already affected him, his mind and his body. He'd never expected her to be as responsive as she was, and he could nearly fall onto his knees weeping over having a woman beneath his hands once again. The intense feelings frightened him. He wondered what lengths a man might be propelled to under his circumstances. That was why he left Arabella with the presumption that he was going to obtain her clothes. Which he would do, after a fashion, but really he'd left to gain sometime and perspective. Then he realized, with a slight lifting of his spirits that he did have the time with this woman of his, he had been so hungry that he'd nearly forgotten to savor. He was going to enjoy teaching Arabella more, slowly and thoroughly. The possibilities carried him down the staircase, veering right across the tiled entranceway to his office.
    Just as Darth was sitting at his desk chair, Chicery entered the office and stood at the entrance performing a half bow. "Your, Lordship," Chicery stated on the rise. "Is there anything I can see to?"
    Darth continued to settle at his desk and offered up an absently said, "Yes, send me a messenger from the stables I will have some missives to post shortly."
    "As you wish, Sir." Chicery cleared his throat once, then again before Darth looked up at him.
    "What is it, Chicery?"
    "Your Lordship, might I bring to your attention that I have just recently discovered our own Mrs. Wellborn has a cousin in dire need of a position. And the Miss in question just happens to be a skilled lady's maid, Sir."
    "Really, Chicery, and you thought this piece of gossip might interest me, I take it?"
    Chicery ducked his chin downward, thinking he would not go so far as to advise his Lordship on any particulars, just lend him a direction, ever hopeful. "I always keep you apprised, Sir"
    Darth grimaced, making himself appear more severe than was ever his intention. He would not state the obvious, but had he been so inclined to hire a lady's maid, the task would surely prove impossible. One look at him would have had the poor girl fainting. But not his