by Sofia Daniel
As we reached the ground floor, I murmured, “Henry, if you want—”
“Leave it.” He hurried down the hallway. From the dim lights illuminating the space, it was probably close to curfew. The common room door opened, letting out a few stragglers.
My mouth opened and closed. “I’m trying to invite you—”
“Emilia.” He opened the door to Edward’s study. “Now is not the time.”
Blake stuck his head through the door. “Have you finished?”
I nodded.
“You’re wanted upstairs.” He stepped out and offered me his arm.
“Are you coming?” I turned to Henry.
He shook his head. I tried to meet his eyes, but he muttered goodnight and stepped inside.
I turned to Blake, heart heavy. Despite my intentions to clear the air with him, things kept getting in the way. A long sigh escaped my lungs, and I took Blake’s arm.
“Problems?” he asked.
“I need to make up with Henry.”
We walked back along the hallway and up the stairs. “He feels responsible for everything that’s happened to you.”
“But it wasn’t—”
“I know.” He kissed me on the cheek. “Henry wants to make amends, and he feels that words won’t be enough.”
Chapter 8
The next morning, Edward’s movement as he rolled out of bed jostled me awake. I blinked my eyes open and lifted myself off Blake’s chest. He stood with his back to the window, and pale streams of sunlight made the ends of his mahogany hair shine like burnished copper. As he stretched and yawned, my eyes tracked gorgeous, tight biceps that led to beautifully shaped pecs. His movements deepened the grooves of his six-pack, making his abdominal muscles even more prominent. The pulse between my legs twitched awake.
“Good morning.” The corner of Edward’s mouth lifted into a half-smile. The kind that said he knew exactly what I was doing, and if I wanted some, I only had to ask nicely.
I dropped my gaze past the dark treasure trail that led from his bellybutton to the thicket of pubic hair, to the organ between his legs. His long, thick penis jutted out in a state of arousal, its head flushed and ready to be sucked.
My tongue darted out to lick my lips. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that I had three outrageously sexy boyfriends.
Edward turned around and walked into the bathroom, displaying a sculpted back that tapered down to tight glutes and long, muscular legs. The pulse between my legs quickened, and my breath came in shallow pants. When the sound of a shower reached my ears, my lips curled into a smile, and I swung out of bed to make my way to the bathroom.
Wet Edward was infinitely more delicious than dry Edward. The spray of the shower slicked his hair back, accentuating his strong jaw and defined cheekbones. Water streamed over his alabaster skin, down to that beautiful, jutting length.
Edward turned and smirked. “May I remind you of what you said the last time we showered with Blake?”
An excited breath caught in the back of my throat, then my mouth watered. I had wanted to get on my knees and swirl my tongue over that angry cock-head. Now was my chance. I strode across the bathroom, into the shower cubicle and sank to my knees. It was cramped, and warm water cascaded down on my head and shoulders, but I paid none of it any mind. Edward stepped back to give me more room, and I shuffled forward, gaze glued to that lengthening, thickening organ.
He laughed. “Emilia, I—”
Whatever he was about to say was cut off by my mouth engulfing the head of his prick.
Edward drew in a sharp breath, and warm triumph spread through my chest. It was always fun to have him fall apart at my command. As promised, I swirled my tongue around his cock-head, making sure to lick the sensitive underside. Edward hissed through his teeth, and the muscles of my core made a pleasurable ripple in response.
He tasted delicious, a heady combination of freshwater and salty precum that made me moan around my mouthful.
Edward’s hand cupped my jaw, and his hips made tiny thrusts. “Take it.” His voice strained. “Take it all.”
Relaxing my jaw, I let his gorgeous length slide down to the back of my throat. Edward drew back and forth in a steady, gentle rhythm. Each time he withdrew, I lathed my tongue against the ridge on his underside and made him gasp.
The warm arousal pooling between my legs developed into a pleasant ache that throbbed in time with Edward’s appreciative moans. I reached down between my legs, between my sodden, slick folds and ran my fingertip over my needy clit.
“Emilia,” he groaned.
His deep voice brought pleasure rippling through my core muscles, which tightened with every caress of my throbbing nub. I bobbed my head up and down on his shaft against the thrust of his hips, increasing the friction and increasing the intensity of his moans. My fingers moved over my clit in the same rhythm, and it felt like I was experiencing the same intense pleasure as Edward. We continued this steady pace until Edward broke my concentration with a loud, strangulated moan.
He was close.
And judging by the pleasure building around my clit, so was I.
I rubbed myself harder, pleasure thrashing against my core like an out-of-control river held back by a dam. Edward’s thrusts quickened, and I relaxed my throat, letting him deepen our connection. My tongue lashed at the underside of his dick, teasing out his climax.
“Emilia!”
Warm, thick pulses of fluid hit my tongue and slid to the back of my throat. The familiar taste, combined with his fevered groans, broke the dam of pressure around my core and released a flood of sensation. Breathing hard, I swallowed his essence with a satisfied moan.
After he caught his breath, Edward helped me to my feet and held me to his chest. His strong arms wrapped around my middle and kept me in place. “I should jostle you awake more often.”
“Don’t you dare.” I tilted my head and gave him a playful peck.
Edward’s chuckle reverberated against his chest, and his hands slid down to my ass. “I suppose it’s only good manners to return the favor.”
“Actually, there’s no need.”
He drew back and fixed me with his smiling, sapphire eyes. “Why not?”
“I took care of myself while I was on my knees.”
Desire flared in his eyes, and his hardness pressed against my belly. “In that case, why don’t you bend over, and I’ll slip you something I think you’ll like.”
“Not without a condom!”
He chuckled. “Maybe later, then.” Bending to pick up one of the bottles, he said, “I’ll shampoo you if you return the favor.”
“Alright.” I held out my hand.
Edward placed a large blob of shampoo into my palm. “There’s a board of director’s meeting today.”
“Do you want me to come?”
Brushing his erection against my belly, he pressed a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Of course. You’re still under our command.”
“Very funny.” I rubbed the shampoo between my palms and ran my hands over his slick hair. “What will you say when they ask you about Charlotte?”
“The truth.”
My hands stilled. “But you promised you’d keep quiet about her role in the booze cruise in exchange for her owning up about the hidden cameras.”
His erection softened. “How many of those girls’ futures would be ruined if her cocktail hadn’t made them violently sick?”
“Ugh. You’re right. Sorry to bring up such a distasteful subject.”
“It’s fine. I’d been forming a nefarious plan involving Blake that would have made us late for first period. The mention of Charlotte is exactly the splash of cold water on the dick I needed to focus on the upcoming meeting.”
Later that day, Edward and I sat in front of the Board of Governors. It took a few minutes for them to reach the agenda item of Edward’s academy fundraiser. Dr. Asgard reported that his hospital could get a temporary blood donation center set up for the academy’s sports day, which would max
imize the number of donations.
As the board was pleased with the progress, Mr. Weaver decided to move up Edward’s report on the events of the weekend. I cringed as he explained to all twelve board members and a secretary, how Charlotte had extracted money from several boys for the promise of a chance with the girls of their dreams. He detailed the events of the evening, starting with a clue he had gathered from another rugby player, and ending with the police and ambulance service taking the girls away.
Mr. Weaver frowned. “While I commend the ingenuity of you and your friends, Viscount, I do wish you had filed a report with campus security.”
“Yes, Chairman,” replied Edward, his voice stiff. “However, if we had acted as you have suggested, there would be no representative to inform the police of what really happened. Moreover, the events took place after academy hours, where my friends and I were free to leave the campus as we saw fit.”
Mr. Weaver glanced at Lady Seagrove, who pursed her lips but remained silent. This time, they couldn’t fault him on his actions.
Edward inhaled a deep breath through his nostrils. “Unfortunately, there might be another report in the papers about Saturday’s events. We saw a newspaper photographer with a Saturday Correspondent lanyard around his neck.”
I chewed down on the inside of my lip, hoping they wouldn’t blame Edward for this fiasco.
Lady Seagrove sniffed. “This Charlotte Underwood is the same young lady responsible for the removal of the cameras around the academy?”
“She is.”
“How did she know of their location?” Dr. Asgard rubbed his chin.
“Charlotte is a close associate of the former caretaker, Mr. Carbuncle.”
Each member of the Board of Governors stiffened at the mention of the former caretaker’s name.
Lady Seagrove blurted, “Perhaps this young lady has been unduly affected by her association with that reprobate. Reprimanding her at this stage might lead to another exposé.”
Her words hit like a slap to the face. Did they think Charlotte was one of Mr. Carbuncle’s victims? She was his fucking accomplice! I sucked in a breath, ready to say something, but Edward placed a calming hand on my wrist.
The Board of Governors dismissed us, and we walked through the marble hallways of the main teaching block. My fists clenched and unclenched. Why did Charlotte always land on her feet? Rudolph was the only person who could handle her, and I wouldn’t wish that slimy reptile on anyone, including Charlotte.
We stepped out of the building into the sunny morning. I was about to launch into a full-blown rant about Charlotte when Edward’s phone rang.
He pulled it out of his pocket and frowned. “It’s Father’s nurse.”
Clamping my mouth shut, I gave him a sharp nod and held my breath. I knew very little about dementia, except that it was a condition that caused memory loss and confusion in old people. I had no idea how dangerous it was when it affected younger victims.
With a concerned frown, Edward answered the phone. The nurse did most of the talking, and with each word, Edward’s face twisted with confusion. At the end of the conversation, he stared at the phone as though not quite believing what he had heard.
A few people leaving the main teaching block paused to stare. Charlotte might have been one of them. The hair dyed like mine was unmistakable, but there was no time to bother with her when palpitations squeezed at my heart. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“Father’s having a lucid day,” he said, voice dreamlike.
I wrapped my hand around his. “Go to him!”
“Come with me.”
“Of course.”
As we raced through the campus, Edward called for the limo. At a time like this, neither of us wanted to make the long trek through the estate to Edward’s house.
The Duke of Mercia sat in the garden under a gazebo, clad in a burgundy, silk dressing gown complete with tailored shoulders, lapels, and cuffs. He wore a white shirt under the garment, opened halfway down to the sternum, and a matching cravat.
We walked across the lawn and, as I got a closer look at the duke, my stomach dropped. I had expected him to be a man in his fifties, but he looked about thirty-five. “He’s so young.”
“Thirty-eight,” said Edward. “Thirty-three when diagnosed. The doctor said it was a particularly early case of young-onset dementia.”
I squeezed Edward’s hand, and we continued toward the gazebo. The duke was deep in conversation with a man the size of Henry, who wore a white polo shirt and slacks. This had to be the nurse paid for by the ransom money.
When the duke turned to us, my breathing hitched. His handsome, regal features were nearly identical to Edward’s except for slightly paler eyes and a dimple on his chin.
“Edward,” he said with wonder in his voice. “You look well.”
“Father.” Edward’s face broke into a smile. “It’s wonderful to have you back.”
The duke shook his head. “Apparently, it’s all thanks to my new nurse. He insisted we try an experimental medication Dr. Asgard didn’t think would work.”
Edward turned to the nurse and inclined his head in thanks.
I stood back, throat thickening, watching their interaction. Although warmth shone in their eyes, and it was clear that the duke hadn’t properly seen his son in years, neither reached out to touch the other. I suppose this was a manifestation of the aristocratic, British stiff upper lip.
The duke raised his head and fixed me with curious, aquamarine eyes. “I see you’ve brought a young lady.”
Butterflies writhed through my insides as I remembered how much everyone had hated me for being American. Would Edward’s father also reject me for the same reason? Swallowing hard, I shot Edward a helpless glance.
“Father, please meet Emilia Hobson, who joined us this year from Park Preparatory, New York. Emilia, this is my father, the Duke of Mercia.”
“Indeed?” The duke’s brows rose. “How d’you do?”
“How d’you do, Your Grace,” I repeated.
His face broke into a smile. “Call me Alfred! And do join us for lunch.”
As if summoned by an invisible force, the butler walked across the lawn with a brass hostess trolley laden with an entire baked salmon, a quiche, and a variety of mouth-watering salads.
While he served out generous portions, Edward updated his father on recent events, carefully steering away from the estate’s financial difficulties and from the recent scandals that had rocked the school. The duke listened and made suggestions for areas where the staff could improve, and I sucked in an excited breath. If the medication worked, would Edward’s father be able to take back some of the burden?
The duke turned to me. “To which family do you belong, Emilia?”
I scrambled for an answer. Mom and Dad came from humble beginnings, and I didn’t want to seem like an interloper. “The Jensens. My father’s family came to the States last century from Denmark, and my mom’s originally from Connecticut. She’s married to Rudolph Trommel now.”
“Indeed?” The duke’s brows rose. “Trommel is a fascinatingly ruthless businessman. My father had dealings with an associate of his, who worked in the publishing industry. A former Mrs. Trommel obtained a million-pound deal to write her memoirs of being married to the mogul, and Trommel quashed it before she even got pen to paper. I understand that he now makes everyone he encounters sign confidentiality agreements.”
My eyes widened. “Really?”
He tilted his head to the side. “You haven’t?”
“Emilia is still seventeen,” said Edward. “I doubt that such a contract would be enforceable on a minor.”
The duke chuckled. “I expect not, and he’ll have a jolly hard time trying to make you sign one when you turn eighteen unless you work for him in some capacity!”
Realization dropped into my stomach like a lead weight. Was this why he had offered me an internship? To get me to sign one of his non-disclosure agreements when I turn
ed eighteen? The more I learned about Rudolph, the more disgusting I found the old creep. Perhaps he was waiting until neither Mom nor I could expose him before making us both suffer.
The duke remained lively throughout lunch. He gave me a tour of his house and gardens, pointing out items of historical interest. The pride and enthusiasm for his family history shone in his bright, blue eyes and in his voice. He displayed a level of exuberance I’d never seen in Edward.
I squeezed Edward’s hand and gave him a warm smile. It was no surprise he was so serious when he lived under a cloud of bereavement, family illness, and the thieving, conniving Mr. Chaloner. Maybe a few more days like this in the summer would lift his spirits.
At the end of the tour, we stood in a marble reception hall nearly identical to the one in the main teaching block. The duke turned to his nurse and chuckled. “I’m a terrible influence. Shouldn’t you both be in lessons?”
“We have free periods this afternoon,” I lied.
“Then it’s lucky for me.” He turned to the butler. “Afternoon tea for four, Reginald.”
We retired into a drawing room with views of a garden of pink roses climbing over arched frames among a riot of rose bushes of every color imaginable. Later, Reginald the butler brought in a three-tiered cake stand containing finger sandwiches, scones, macarons, and delicate cakes. As he poured us cups of tea from a china pot, the duke asked, “Are you still chums with little Henry?”
Edward smiled. “Henry’s six-four now, and the captain of the rugby team.”
“That little cherub?” His face broke out into a wide grin. “I’d like to see that!”
Edward pulled out his smartphone and swiped through his pictures until he found a group he had taken during one of the rugby matches. “Bring him along the next time. And Blake.”
Later, as the sun dipped behind a group of fluffy clouds, the duke’s eyelids grew heavy, and the nurse announced it was a side effect of his medication and time for his nap. We left and made our way back to the academy on foot.
I looped my arm through Edward’s as we walked along a gravel path bordering the woods. “Will the new drug cure him?”