Tessa's Redemption
Classics Rekindled 3
Tessa’s Redemption
Tessa Derbyshire believes she’s lost her soul.
Alex D’Bushey seduced her two years ago, resulting in a baby that died. When she was to marry Angel LeClare, she confessed her past. He declared her ruined and cast her out. With nowhere else to go, she returned to Alex.
Alex suspects she still loves Angel. He’ll do anything to keep Tessa, even share her. Angel longs to make amends to her, so they come to an uneasy agreement.
Tessa is shocked by Alex’s proposal. Then Angel kisses her. She discovers tenderness in Alex and passion in Angel. But the men distrust each other. In and out of bed they fight over her. Sick and ashamed to be their plaything, she withdraws. Can Alex and Angel set aside their animosity and find a way for the three of them to be together? Or will the sins of their pasts doom them forever?
Genre: Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 24,795 words
TESSA’S REDEMPTION
Josie Dennis
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
TESSA’S REDEMPTION
Copyright © 2011 by Josie Dennis
E-book ISBN: 1-61034-909-1
First E-book Publication: October 2011
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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Siren Publishing, Inc.
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TESSA’S REDEMPTION
Classics Rekindled 3
JOSIE DENNIS
Copyright © 2011
Chapter 1
Somerset, England, 1856
Tessa Derbyshire sat at the vanity, running a brush through her long, dark curls. She wore a nightgown of the finest lawn, trimmed with lace three inches thick and tied at the bodice with satin ribbons. The room reflected back at her was as finely appointed as herself, with rich furnishings and sumptuous fabrics draping the windows and large four-poster bed. Deep burgundy, gold, and ivory made the space the prettiest she’d ever seen. A fire burned in the grate, perfect on this autumn evening and adding its golden glow to the few candles lit. A perfect place to sin.
“Good evening, love,” a masculine voice said behind her.
She turned, running her eyes over the fine form before her. Alex D’Bushey, her…Lover seemed too tame a word. Jailer? Seducer? Redeemer? It was true Alex was the only choice left to her. She’d made another, last spring, but that marriage had come to naught. Alex was the husband of her body, if not of her heart. She knew she should be grateful he still desired her, ruined as she was. She frowned a bit. She supposed it was fitting, since he was the one who ruined her.
“Good evening, Alex,” she said.
He smiled at her, a handsome expression that caused her heart to trip and her body to heat. He wore a dressing gown of burgundy, the color picking up the auburn lights in his thick, wavy hair. Full lips, teasing brown eyes, strong chin. He was beautiful in a blatantly sensual way. She’d never known another man intimately, and her body recognized its mate. Her pussy clenched with wanting, and she stifled a sigh.
“Ah, you look incredible.” He stepped closer, proof of his arousal apparent through the fabric of his robe. “I cannot wait to have you.”
She set her brush down and stood, fluffing her gown about her. Her nipples tightened as his gaze settled on her breasts. As she watched his eyes darken she reveled in the tiny bit of power she possessed. “That is a surprise, as you had me just this afternoon.”
He laughed, that low, deep sound that had been her undoing two years past, and came closer. “I shall never tire of you, Tessa mine.”
His. At least she was that, for now. “Take me, then.”
He crossed to her and grabbed her to him, molding her body to his. She could feel every muscle in his chest, every ridge on his flat belly, every blessed inch of his rigid cock, as she rubbed wildly against him.
“What you do to me.” He growled as he brought his lips to her throat. “You make me so hard when you move like that.”
“I am good and ruined, Alex,” she breathed, opening the laces on her gown to bare her breasts to his questing mouth. “Why should I play the innocent?”
He stilled for a moment, flicking a glance up at her face before surrendering to his feast. He sucked hard on one nipple, pulling it deep into his mouth. The pressure was exquisite, and she moaned. When he began to tease the other nipple with his strong fingers, she felt her pussy flood with juices. Alex would take her, there was no question. Either hard and fast or slow and deep, it wouldn’t matter. He’d bring her to orgasm, make her scream before losing himself inside her. She could scarcely wait.
In a moment she was in the middle of that large bed, stripped of her fine nightgown. Alex continued to suck on her nipples, bringing his hand to her pussy and tweaking her tiny nub of pleasure. Like the wanton she was, she let her legs fall open and was amply rewarded when he buried his face between her thighs.
“You’re so sweet,” he rasped, flicking his tongue over her clit. “I could eat you all night.”
His tongue delved deep inside of her, and she shivered. “I would surely die if you did so,” she managed to say.
He laughed again, low and rumbling, and devoured her. Bucking against his mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut as her climax built. Again and again he thrust his tongue, finally sucking on her clit. She screamed as she came, and he moved quickly to bury his cock within her.
“Tessa,” he ground out, his body moving above hers. “Tessa mine.”
Gripping his braced arms, she wrapped her legs around his waist and met his every thrust. He let out a shout of delight and increased his motions until she couldn’t keep a thought in her head. Another climax began from the point of their contact and spreading over her in a rush. Arching sharply, she cried out. “Angel!”
Alex stilled then came with a great shudder. She felt him pulse within, spilling his hot seed. In the quiet that followed she knew he stared down at her, and the import of the name she’d shouted struck her. Peeping open her eyes, she glanced up at him. His expression was dark, yet satisfaction showed in his eyes. “Alex.”
“Call out for your false husband all you like, my dear.” He ground his hips against her, causing flickers of passion to settle over her. “It might be his name on your lips, but it is my cock in your pussy.”
She nodded, closing her eyes. “I am sorry, Alex.”
He pulled out with a grunt and rolled away from her. “It is of little consequence.”
She could say nothing to that, for he was in the right. Crying over Angel LeClare would serve nothing.
Placing her hand on his shoulder, she stroked him. He was like granite beneath her touch. “Let us sleep?”
He looked over at her then shrugged as he lost his rigidity. “I find I sleep better with you beside me.”
She smiled at him and they slid beneath the covers. His chest was a fitting pillow for her head, his arms all the warmth she needed. In a few moments
he was asleep, as she’d expected. He did seem to take comfort in her presence as he slept, his expression easing as he slumbered. He was so very handsome, but she’d ceased looking for any familial resemblance months ago.
She’d believed him a cousin two years past and had gone to his rich family to beg for work and earned herself ruination in return. Only after her aborted marriage to Angel six months ago had Alex admitted that they weren’t even distantly related. His father had simply liked the name D’Bushey, a noble-sounding version of her own surname. Everything that had happened, between her and Alex, between her and Angel, had started with a lie. At least she lived honestly now, if immorally.
She saw a bit of their babe in Alex as he slept, the stubborn chin, the thatch of reddish hair. Though she’d known the child for scarcely a fortnight, she still mourned his little soul. She didn’t know if she would ever again carry a child, nor did she know if she wished to. He’d been as unwanted as Alex’s advances two years ago. But he’d been an innocent. More than she had paid for her sins.
The confession of her lapse with Alex, the sad story of her baby, had separated her from her prospective husband on the eve of their wedding. It had been Alex who picked up the pieces of her ruined life and set her up as his mistress. She wouldn’t return to her family, burdened as they were with their own concerns. She had no one else and she was grateful to him. Her body wanted him, but her heart? She feared it was broken beyond repair.
Tears burning her eyes, she prayed for a dreamless sleep. One free of memories. She scoffed. Whyever would God answer any of her prayers now?
* * * *
Alex crawled out of bed before the sun rose. True, he slept like the dead when Tessa was near, but staying that way was growing more difficult with each passing day. In the past six months since making Tessa his mistress, guilt had gnawed at him. Guilt over the lie that brought her into his life two years ago. Guilt over the sexual advances he’d selfishly made on an innocent girl. He’d never known about the child either, not of its birth or of its death, until she’d come to him after that damned Angel LeClare abandoned her.
Angel LeClare, the lucky bastard who nearly had her as his wife only to throw her away. He thought she was soiled? It wasn’t her fault that she was so bloody beautiful Alex wouldn’t stop pursuing her until she at last gave in to him. She’d cried afterwards, making him feel like a reprobate for the first time in his memory. She’d stayed with him, too. In spirit, that was. It was a stroke of great fortune that brought a tearful Tessa to him last April. She was his now, and he’d be damned if he lost her again.
He rubbed a hand over his face, crossing to the window to stare over the back garden of his house. It was newly purchased and newly furnished and a far cry from that mausoleum his father had insisted on buying along with the D’Bushey name. His parents were now dead and gone, and Alex had seen no reason to keep the estate and farm. No, this pretty house and its manageable grounds suited him. The last thing he needed were tenants to judge his arrangement with Tessa or spread tales in the nearby village.
He turned to run his gaze over the slumbering beauty in his bed. Thick, lustrous raven hair a man could get lost in, rose-tinged skin as smooth as it looked. A body meant to tempt a man to sin even as it promised paradise. Yes, he desired her every minute of every day. It was more than that, however.
She was inside of him now. He would do anything to keep her safe, though she would probably doubt that for the rest of her days. Not that he truly blamed her. She still loved Angel LeClare. He’d known it when he’d proposed their arrangement, and tonight’s passionate declaration confirmed it.
He’d glimpsed the fair-haired saint himself just two days past in the village going about his business as if he hadn’t abandoned the sweetest creature on earth last spring. Discreet questions yielded Alex the answers he’d sought. The good people of Oake weren’t aware of Angel’s almost-marriage, but he was still tied to Tessa. If the man should decide to take up with her again, there would be nothing to stop them. Surely not her arrangement with Alex.
He had to atone for what he’d done to her two years ago, true. But he wouldn’t lose her in the process. Perhaps he should have a meeting with the pious LeClare. They had a matter to settle. A matter of the utmost importance. Alex grinned in the dark.
He’d never cared enough about anything to put himself to any trouble. Before Tessa, that was. Now he would willingly meet with the very man who could, with the crook of his little finger, take away the one person who mattered to him.
“Not bloody likely,” he vowed softly.
He and LeClare would have a talk. Perhaps come to an arrangement themselves. Alex would do anything to keep Tessa.
Even if it meant sharing her with another man.
Chapter 2
Angel LeClare walked down High Street in the village of Oake, finding nothing particularly remarkable. After the debacle of his aborted wedding to Tessa, he’d sold out the living here, given to him when he left Cambridge. He’d taken the ten thousand pounds and decided to practice law nearby. Why he’d come back to Somerset now, he could guess. Despite what Tessa had done, in his heart she was his wife.
Oake was where he’d expected to set up their household, though. The pretty little vicarage here would have suited him quite well with his beautiful, chaste wife at his side. That was not to be, however. Her confession on the eve of their wedding put an end to his idyllic dream.
He’d had six long months to stew over what she’d told him. Of course, he’d made his own confession that night as well. Several months earlier he’d spent four sinful days in London with a woman of questionable morals, indulging in every sexual act he’d ever heard of and some he hadn’t. Another woman had joined them one night, each taking their turns licking and sucking him, finally riding his mouth and his cock until all three of them had climaxed together. He’d left those details out of his recitation to his prospective bride, of course, in deference to her virginity and innocence. However, Tessa had been neither virginal nor innocent. No, she’d had relations with her blasted cousin and had borne his child.
She was here in Somerset with him now. Living without benefit of marriage. Guilt stabbed at him. Sometimes he believed he was as selfish and sanctimonious a man as his older brothers often declared.
“LeClare!” he heard a man call.
He turned to see D’Bushey himself, strolling down the street toward him with ease as if he hadn’t spoiled the only good thing in Angel’s life.
“D’Bushey,” he growled.
D’Bushey stopped before him, running a gaze up and down with a curl of derision on his lips. “Angel LeClare, back in Somerset.”
Angel held in his own ire. “As you see,” he said with a nod.
“I heard you sold out your living.”
“What concern is this to you?” he asked.
D’Bushey shrugged, but Angel spied the lines of tension around his mouth. “No concern to me personally, I assure you. However, a lady of our mutual acquaintance might be distressed to know that her confessor lives so close by.”
“I am not Tessa’s confessor!” Angel said. He glanced about then looked D’Bushey in the eye. “At least I am not her despoiler.”
D’Bushey shot out his fist and hit Angel in the face, bloodying his nose and mouth. Pain crashed through him, but he returned a blow to the man’s midsection.
“You sanctimonious piece of offal,” D’Bushey sputtered, wrapping his arms around his middle as he gasped for breath.
Angel swiped at his nose with his sleeve. “You took her.” He balled up his fist to strike him again. “You seduced her.” It was what he’d wished to believe, in any event.
D’Bushey straightened. “True,” he said softly.
That stilled him. “What?”
“She wanted none of it, LeClare,” he said. “Not really.”
Angel blinked at him, then spit out some blood. “Explain.”
D’Bushey shook his head. “Not here.”
Angel looked about and saw that several villagers had gathered for the bit of excitement on High Street this afternoon. He spied the inn across the street and tilted his chin in that direction. “The Rooster’s Comb.”