by Renée Dahlia
She rushed through her morning routine, quickly washing in the adjoining bathing room, a luxury that she’d insisted on when she’d bought this house. She put on her undergarments and stood in front of her extensive wardrobe filled with dresses of all colours and fabrics. Something comfortable to sit all day in, that she could write correspondence in, so no long, elaborate sleeves. Yet something that Ravi would appreciate, a dress that highlighted her silhouette. She growled under her breath. Was she really planning to impress Ravi? Time to stop overthinking this, a simple cotton day gown would suffice, perhaps the one with the large blue and white vertical stripes. She pulled on the long skirts, over her bustle frame, and tied the ribbons around her waist that held them up. The bodice buttoned up the front, so she slid each arm into the elbow length sleeves, adjusted it against her corset, then finished the garment by doing each button in a long neat row.
She walked towards her vanity cabinet. Her favourite scent, violets, lingered in the air as she dabbed the perfume on her wrists. She’d loved this scent even before it became popular. The way the simple violet survived in unlikely places, on the edges of roadways, and in so many varieties, had drawn her to that humble flower. After a quick brush of her hair, she rolled it into a loose chignon at the base of her skull, and she was ready to do battle with the day.
‘Good morning, Mr Howick,’ she said as she entered the small dining room in her house. Clemton Jnr and the staff had laid out a simple breakfast for her and her guest, and Ravi was already seated, partaking in toast and honey.
‘Good morning. Is there a reason for your formality?’ said Ravi, and she took a moment to let his rich voice wash over her skin. A shudder of delight raced along the skin of her throat, and she wanted to lick honey off his fingers. She cleared her throat.
‘Please recall that you are an employee.’ Her voice rasped, and she hoped he would think it was just her morning voice, not because she’d been thinking outrageous thoughts.
‘Of a type, yes. However, I was of the belief that our … ahh, working relationship, had developed into something akin to friendship.’ His dark eyes danced and the corner of his mouth twitched.
‘I don’t kiss my friends,’ she blurted, then pinched her lips together. Blast. Ravi smiled, a seductive stretch of his mouth that focused all her attention there.
‘Only your colleagues?’
‘Oh, you know what I meant.’ Exasperation coloured her tone, and he chuckled.
‘Yes. I understand. One little kiss has flustered you, and now you need to keep me in my place,’ he said, still smiling at her. One little kiss. She closed her eyes on a long blink. Not so little, only the best kiss she’d ever had. She opened her eyes to glare at him.
‘I’m not flustered. I have been kissed before, you know.’
‘Then it would be no issue to kiss me again,’ he said. ‘Just to prove that it doesn’t bother you at all.’
She stared at him, the rims of her eyes widening.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Our kiss yesterday—’ he said.
Our kiss. Ours. She nodded, unable to look away from him.
‘You say that you aren’t flustered by it. Prove it, and kiss me again.’ His eyes dipped down to glance at her mouth, and her lips tingled, actually tingled, just from his look. No. No, she wasn’t going to kiss him again. Down this path lay danger, and she should stop now. But her body didn’t listen, and she started walking towards him. He stood up as she approached, broad and strong, his quiet presence welcoming her to touch him. She stopped, one step away from him, and the air between them shimmered with unrequited passion. He could easily step forward and close the gap between them. He didn’t. She controlled the gap. She could make the choice to touch him, or to remain static and distant.
‘Ravi,’ she whispered, and reached up for his cheek. The freshly shaven skin was warm under her fingertips, slightly rough, and his heat traversed their connection, through her finger and along her arm.
‘Claire.’ A zephyr of his breath full of her name whispered against her cheek. Heat rose, surely painting her face bright pink, as her lips parted. Could she do this? She lifted her chin and stared deep into his darkening eyes, a rich chocolate brown that turned almost black as he waited for her to move. The weight of her pause grew with an intensity that made her foot shuffle. She could still walk away. Her breath and pulse raced as the silence stretched. He moved first, a miniscule shift that increased the pressure of his cheek against her finger. Her hand spread against his face, her palm flat against him, and heat surged inside her until it filled her, all the way down to her legs, until her knees softened. She lifted her other hand, and ran it up his arm to his shoulder. His morning jacket didn’t hide the shape of his muscles as her hand traced them. All her hesitations disappeared as her fingers reached his shoulder and traced the edge of his collar.
‘Shall we kiss?’ she said, then answered her own question as she pressed her lips lightly against his. He didn’t move, and his control gave her confidence, as if he knew that she was unsure about this choice. Her hands slid to the back of his neck, and her fingers threaded in his hair as she pulled him towards her.
‘Yes, we should.’ He breathed his words into her mouth, and deepened their kiss. He kept his control tightly bound, and his kiss light, nibbling on her lower lip, then concentrating on a full, deep kiss that drew her against him. She took the final tiny step to close the gulf she’d created, and her whole body sighed as she pressed against his hard form. She opened her mouth, and his tongue swept inside, sending a hot shiver down her spine. Their mouths tangled, wrestled, and her knees weakened. He wrapped his arms around her, one on her lower back, holding her firm and upright as she let herself sag against him. She could feel his desire, a bold length against her stomach, firm even through all the layers of fabric she wore, and she tilted her hips towards him. He grinned against her mouth, then broke the kiss.
‘Would you like some more?’ he asked with a gravel in his voice.
‘There is more?’ Her voice sounded vulnerable, naïve, not at all like herself.
‘Claire. My Claire, Jaaneman, there is so much I’d like to do with you,’ he said.
She frowned and looked up at him, so close to her.
‘You mean intercourse?’ she said.
He coughed. His head jerked upwards, and he chuckled.
‘That would be the ultimate goal, but there are many stages before then if you wish for a slower experimentation.’
‘But where is the benefit for you?’ Her hands slid out of his hair, and rested lightly on his shoulders. She glanced away, then stared at him. She had to wrestle control of this conversation, as a bell clanged in her head—this path leads to danger.
‘Pleasure. Yours first, and mine through watching yours,’ he said. Heat rose on her face, a burning heat of uncertainty mingled with desire at the notion that he wanted her pleasure. ‘Aren’t you just a little curious?’
‘I am curious to know why so many women throw themselves at men for sex, when the risks are so great,’ she said. She knew she was blurting to cover her nerves at this topic. Or more precisely, this topic with him.
‘I could show you,’ he said.
‘No. I won’t take those risks,’ she said. She stepped backwards, leaving her body cold, craving his heat. His hands dropped away from her. It registered that she could trust him not to assert his greater strength over her, that she could retreat into her own safe space without a fight.
‘I won’t press you, but know this. I’ve never felt this level of passion with anyone else. We have a special connection, and I will wait until you are ready,’ he said.
She gasped at the truth in his words, she’d never felt anything like this before either. She’d kissed several men, just to see what all the fuss was about, and they were either too pushy, or sloppily wet, or just boring. With Ravi, her whole body was consumed by a fire that sparked and flickered around her, but she worried that she’d get burnt one day. She
marched back to him and slammed her lips against his in the roughest kiss she could manage, with her hands hanging by her side. He angled his head, and pushed back with a strong kiss of his own, until they argued for control with their mouths, a feisty give and take that sent shards of pleasure racing through her body. Just as her body softened again, and she wanted to writhe against him, she ripped herself away and leapt backwards, panting. She stared at the carpet between them until she could breathe properly again, before she turned and walked away.
‘Please don’t run away. Stay and have something to eat,’ he said quietly.
She blinked away an unexpected tear.
‘You don’t frighten me, Mr Howick,’ she lied, holding her head high as she walked towards the side table and selected a plate. Was it a lie? She swallowed. Perhaps it was herself that she was scared for, that she would get swept away in all these feelings and lose herself along the way. Her hand trembled slightly as she picked up a plate, and it clattered against the one underneath. She used tongs to select a crumpet, gathered a small roll of butter, before she walked back and sat at the table opposite Ravi. She spread the butter on the cool toasted crumpet, then drizzled some honey over the top. The simple process helped calm her heartbeat, and the sweet scent of honey added to the sense of homeliness. She glanced at Ravi under her eyelashes without moving her head, only to see him seated once more, quietly eating his breakfast without any indication that their kiss had affected him. How unfair was that? She’d been thrown by the kiss, discombobulated, and unable to think properly, while he ate without a care. She cut a slice of her crumpet and stabbed it with her fork.
To eat with him seemed far too domestic, and worse because this was the second day in a row that they had shared breakfast. Yesterday by necessity, today by his intrusion. Where was Clemton and Higgins, her security team, when she needed them? The only explanation for their absence was that they trusted Ravi. She glanced at the door—surely Clemton stood outside, and could respond if required.
‘Why are you here, eating my food, anyway? I sent you a note last night that I’ll be busy today. I have business correspondence to catch up on,’ she said.
‘I came to see you.’
‘It’s not very convenient.’
‘Did our kiss upset you this much? I can take a step backwards and wait for you,’ he said.
She glared at him as he laid down his cutlery in a calm fashion. Damn him and his polite calmness, all while her stomach churned at the very thought of allowing him closer.
‘I might never be ready.’
‘I’ll wait,’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘Are you willing to wait until I have the vote, until science allows childbirth without risk of death, until I won’t have to bear all the weight of society trying to keep me in my place? Will you wait till then?’ She hung her head and stabbed her crumpet with her fork.
‘There is no answer to that statement that will do either of us any good,’ he said. Her head jerked up and she stared at him, uncertain. How did he always say something she had no argument against?
‘Stop being a lawyer and caging around this.’
‘If you are trying to get me to make a dismissive statement about your concerns, you will need a different tactic,’ he said. His calm voice irritated her, and she crossed her ankles under the table rather than kick him. The level of discomfort he caused was irritational, a reflection of how much she liked him despite her better judgement.
‘You don’t dismiss my concerns?’
‘No, why would I? If you hadn’t noticed, I’ve come to care for you, Claire. Naturally, I will listen properly and attempt to find a solution,’ he said.
Her face burned bright hot at those words.
‘I can find my own solutions, thank you very much.’ She didn’t want to focus on the idea that he might care for her. She might have guessed, but to hear those words made it real. No wonder she wanted to bolt out of the room and bury herself in paperwork.
‘Yes. That’s my favourite thing about you, it’s what makes you appealing,’ he said.
She shook her head. No, no, no. Stop making this harder. Stop being so goddamn attractive with your seductive talk about independence.
‘You are just saying that because you want to bed me,’ she said in her brightest, boldest voice. Her illusion shattered as her voice squeaked at the start of the sentence, but she brazened her way through.
‘Logically, that requires separation into two ideas—’
She interrupted him. ‘With subclauses?’
He laughed, a short bark of acknowledgement. ‘We lawyers do love our subclauses,’ he said, still smiling. ‘Back to my point—there are two separate issues in your statement. Yes, I want to bed you. No, I’m not trying to talk my way there. I speak the simple truth. I admire your independent spirit, even when it prevents me from achieving subclause one.’
‘Being the bedding of me,’ she said. She didn’t think her cheeks could get any hotter, but a new flush of heat raced over her skin.
‘Yes. I believe it is a mutually beneficial goal.’ Who knew that precise legal language could be so inviting? She licked her bottom lip as her mouth dried. ‘And before you take us back to the beginning of this conversation and mention the risks, I think we should quantify those prior to making any further progress,’ he said.
She wanted to fan herself, or kiss him senseless, which she guessed was the point of that comment. Instead, she deliberately picked up her knife and fork, and slowly sliced a small segment off her crumpet. She ate it carefully, playing for time, so that her rampant heartbeat would stop galloping in her chest. Her breasts had swelled as he’d talked until they pressed against her dress with her nipples rubbing the fabric of her shift. She swallowed.
‘Would you like a list of the risks? Because from where I sit, you gain momentary pleasure, while I get all the negative consequences,’ she said.
‘There are ways to prevent pregnancy,’ he said.
She dropped her cutlery and glared at him from under her eyelids.
‘Mr Howick, if that is all you have, you’ve missed the entire point.’
‘Then educate me,’ he said. He spread his hands before him, palms up. His cufflinks glinted as light reflected off them, the sharp white of his linen shirt providing a crisp line against his brown skin. The contrast made her fingers tingle with the need to touch him, to trace the veins on his hands, to undo those cufflinks and expose more of his skin, to glide her hands up his forearms and feel the muscles under her palms. Her desire was deeper than just a physical attraction. He listened and he wanted to know more about her concerns. He’d never dismissed her ideas as female insensibility instead wanting to understand her perspective. No wonder she was considering abandoning her worries in favour of exploration. A cool wind at her side, and the quiet swish of the door opening, interrupted her thoughts.
‘Would you like coffee?’ asked Clemton.
She nodded, not wanting to trust her voice, even though a small part of her brain wanted to scream at Clemton. Why had he left the room, leaving her alone with Ravi? But then, if he had stayed, she wouldn’t have enjoyed this illuminating discussion.
‘Thank you, Clemton,’ said Ravi. Clemton poured the steaming liquid for Ravi, the rich, bitter scent rising into the room. Her butler walked quietly around the table, then poured for her. He raised his eyebrows a tiny amount in query, and she dipped her chin in an equally small nod of acknowledgement. Yes, she supposed she was fine. She sipped the invigorating liquid, blinking as the shot of energy to her brain made a new connection. Ravi hadn’t mentioned love, only admiration, and intercourse. She should be mad at the assumption that she might bed him without love, but she could only smile at the possibility that he understood that love and intercourse didn’t always go together. And to mention love at this stage of their, well, she guessed it would be called friendship, would be just ridiculous. She had only now adjusted to the idea of friendship with him. And kisses. She sipped her coffe
e so her big mouth didn’t blurt something unhelpful. Clemton left the room, closing the door with a quiet snick.
‘Your list of risks and reasons against me?’ he asked.
‘You are persistent, Mr Howick.’ She placed her cup down and settled back in her chair. Mother wasn’t here to tell her not to slump, but as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t bring herself to be less than elegant, so she sat with her back straight against the hard wooden frame of the chair.
‘Persistence is a rather necessary quality when one wants to be heard, don’t you think?’ he said.
She grinned at him, at the gentle reminder that he also suffered the foibles of English society and its unbending beliefs.
‘Yes, that is true. And what are you planning to persist with?’ She immediately cursed her mouth as his mouth stretched into a slow smile. His gaze darted to her lips, then he stared deep into her eyes.
‘I doubt it is in my best interests to outline a strategy on this matter. It will only give you ways to counter me, and I rather like it when you are off guard.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Do you really want me to explain it?’ he asked with a little tilt of his head.
‘No. I’d rather you kept that to yourself. I’d rather give you a list of important points to consider,’ she said. The fluctuating emotion, between amusement, desire, and annoyance was exhausting. It made her heart pound erratically, and waves of hot and cold coursed around her body. She much preferred to have a cool control over her environment.
‘Please do.’
‘Perhaps we should relocate to the drawing room. I can lend you some paper to ensure that you don’t miss anything crucial.’ She stood up and swept out of the room, her attempt to assert control over the situation.
Chapter 17