Page 39 of A Lady, Her Lord, & Their Duke

Arabella tenderly smoothed his hair, removed his gag and dribbled brandy into his mouth. “Well done, sweetheart.”

“Christ,” whispered Edmund. “I may never move again. My owner is a goddess.”

“Yes, I am. A little brandy, Nev?” asked his wife innocently.

“Mmmm,” he replied, nodding.

However, once she’d removed his delectable gag, Arabella didn’t trickle brandy into his mouth. She tugged down her gown bodice and decorated her breast and nipple with the amber liquid. “Clean me. Immediately. So Edmund can watch.”

As Neville found brandy-flavored heaven, lapping and sucking the liquid from her creamy flesh and rosy nipple, he almost retained his composure. Except then Ara wrapped the handkerchief gag around his cock, tormenting him with light squeezes and rough rubs of the pussy-wet linen until he succumbed to a violent orgasm with a harsh cry.

“Unfair,” he mumbled blissfully, trying to remember which way was up.

Arabella batted her lashes as she delicately tucked her breasts back into her bodice. Then she pushed the curtains aside to look out and yelped. “Bloody hell, we’re almost at St. James’s Square. Put yourselves to rights, gentlemen, and be quick about it.”

Somehow, he and Edmund made themselves vaguely presentable as the carriage entered the square, although their greatcoats would cover a multitude of sins.

“That journey went so fast,” said Edmund.

Neville laughed. “Distractions help.”

Arabella shook her head. “We were a bit close to home for that. Edmund, is your neighbor particularly stuffy or someone who watches out windows? Is it best to soothe future ruffled feathers with a bottle of good brandy or just brazen it out like it never happened?”

“Actually, you needn’t worry,” said Edmund slowly. “That townhouse is empty and has been for months. An older couple owned it but their bones grew intolerant to London winters, so they moved to Tuscany. They refuse to lower their price, but in the current state of everything there aren’t many who can afford such prime property. Hell, I even had my man look at the numbers, but after two poor harvests and with investment returns so volatile still, I need reserve funds for my estates.”

“So it’s for sale?” asked Arabella. “Hmmm.”

Abruptly, all Neville's faculties returned. Was she considering purchasing the townhouse next to Edmund’s? Although it was less than a mile between Golden Square and St. James’s Square, in London a short distance didn’t mean a quick journey. Living next door to each other would be brilliant. With a little renovation, they could move freely between the two, and no one outside would be any the wiser. If they bought the largest bed possible, Edmund could come and join them at night. And they could dine together; complete discretion unless they wished otherwise. With Arabella’s fortune, she could easily afford it. Hector had been telling her for years to leave Golden Square for something bigger, but she’d always refused.

“What are you thinking, Ara?” Neville asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

His wife hesitated as the carriage pulled up outside Edmund’s townhouse. “I’m not sure. Nothing, really. I know how attached you are to your childhood home—”

He blinked. “Wait, what?”

Arabella’s brow furrowed. “You’ve never wanted to move from Golden Square.”

“Not because I’m attached to the house. I don’t really have any happy memories there. More that I’ve never wanted you spending thirty thousand pounds on something new for my benefit. You do enough for me already.”

“Oh my God,” snapped Arabella, her eyes sparking flames. “Neville Gage Carlisle, prepare to receive the hardest spanking of your life. I try to respect your wishes around gifts even if I don’t agree, but we’ve been living in a paper-walled hatbox for ten bloody years! It is just as well I love you…Edmund, take heed and never ever commit such a foolish act. Swear you won’t.”

“No, ma’am,” said Edmund, very meekly. “I swear.”

Neville exhaled slowly. “Although the hardest spanking of my life sounds rather good, I promise not to be so foolish again. And if you purchase the townhouse next door to Edmund’s so we can discreetly be a very happy threesome, I would be delighted.”

Once all three had climbed out of the carriage, the driver continued onto the mews and the footmen disappeared inside Edmund’s townhouse.

Arabella pulled her satin-lined pelisse closer. “Do you happen to know the owner’s man of affairs, Edmund? I should like to look indoors.”

Unexpectedly, Edmund grinned. “I have the key. The couple strongly dislike lawyers, calling them thieves and swindlers, so asked me to hold it. Presumably because I’m far too dull and proper to use the place for orgies or turn it into a gaming hell.”

Neville laughed. “The curse of the responsible gentleman. But could we see the place?”

“One moment,” said Edmund, before dashing inside.

While they waited, Arabella wrapped Neville in a hug. “What am I to do with you? Here, you’ll be so close to Westminster, Piccadilly, and your tea shop. You can host political dinners. Castlereagh will have no excuse; he lives a stone’s throw away.”

“All true,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Do forgive me. I forget my pride deprives you of giving, the way you show your love. If you can say I love you, I can be an exceedingly spoiled husband.”