by Gayle Eden
Audra lifted the handle and let it drop. The door opened, a slim butler appearing in black and white, his salt and pepper hair combed smoothly back.
He bowed, “Good morning.”
“And, to you, Sir. I’m Lady Audra Emberton, and this is my sister Lady—”
“Audra—” The viscount appeared suddenly, smiling at them, before attending the butler with, “Thank you, Louis. Will you tell Mrs. Caldwell we’ll have something iced?”
He waved the women in. “Come in please. It’s deuced stuffy in here, but I welcome you to my humble abode.”
Alina looked around while they shed coats and hats, smelling fresh plaster and paint, the glue from wallpapering, and bees wax, a hint of varnish.
She walked behind Audra, who had taken Rane’s arm, and looked up at the fancy scrollwork ceilings, beautiful chandeliers. In the first sitting room, was a white fireplace and freshly covered settee and chairs, lamps. There were a few packages about.
They accepted iced juice from a plump housekeeper, who excused herself afterwards.
Standing by the mantle, Rane said, “I’ve the beds and wardrobes, but not a drape one. The entire study is filled with a pile of fabric swatches and samples of— God knows what. You ladies have saved me from bedlam. I’ve avoided making a decision every day since I’ve arrived.”
“Not me. Audra has the talent for that.” Alina laughed. “I’ve only come to admire, and I must say, it’s charming in every way so far.”
“Well. I have no quarrel with rolling up my sleeves, replacing bricks in the kitchens, or even filling the library with books—I have art and such stored in the attic—which, by the way, is sweltering. Though the bathing chambers had to be redone, there were important things, like going down to the cellar and tunnels, and checking the stock of spirits.”
Audra grinned and stood to admire the detail of the mantle. “This is marble?”
‘Yes. The other was in horrid shape, all black and sooty.” He waited until they had drank, and asked, “Shall we do a tour?”
They did, going through all the lower rooms, even the kitchens where a cook and three maids were busy but nodded to them. A pantry, small dining area, a study—which indeed was cluttered, then a rear garden room, off the library.
As they headed up the stairs, Alina admired the house, but was intrigued with watching the two of them together. It was apparent to her that Rane was more focused on Audra than the house. It made her smile at the way he would catch himself staring, shake his head as if to clear it, and attend what she said.
In most of the rooms, he stood back and watched Audra walk about—listening to her comments, whilst Alina looked down, out a window at the streets and gave them enough room to be somewhat private.
After the new bathing rooms were admired, she pretended to linger in the hall as he slid back the doors to the master suite. There was a sitting room; two bedchambers flanking. Each had a bathing closet. Though she did not go in, she could hear Audra suggesting colors and fabrics, and where art would look best.
At some point, they were in the attic, the arched windows opened to try to relieve the musk and heat. He left them a moment to fetch two footmen to take down pieces or trunks—whatever Audra chose.
Eventually, when they were down in the study, Alina took a seat and relaxed by French doors whilst the two of them were pouring through swatches and books, all manner of things that merchants and suppliers used as samples. Alina lost herself for a bit, catching the growing tension as the morning passed, and seeing glances between the two, a touch of hands accidentally, and alternatively, hearing their laughter at some horrid pattern and color.
Lunch was served in there, coffee as well, and though Rane attempted to engage Alina in conversation, she waved and offered, “Don’t mind me. I am simply emptying my head from the previous week’s balls and crushes. I am perfectly fine over here, listening to the birds, and enjoying a bit of breeze.”
In his shirtsleeves, buff trousers, and boots, a rather relaxed mode of dress, she realized she was so used to Rotherham’s harsh dark features, and it really had escaped her how Audra must view Rane. He was muscular, tanned, and the dark gold and red mix of longish hair, was silken. He had a habit of tucking it behind his ears, which threw his high cheekbones and strong brow and chin into prominence. His nose was strong, lips sensual, and when he smiled, his teeth were straight and white; brows straight, lids having a bruised tint, made the tawny eyes more startling.
She realized too, that next to the curvy and full figured Audra, there was virility, a sinew and warmth that matched her sister’s womanly form. There were moments when they walked to the window, and held up a swatch to the arc of sun that the strands that escaped Audra’s hairstyle, and it would catch the light, or the clear dew of her skin shone….the two of them were quite stunning together.
Having put aside a dozen sets of fabric each item she had chosen, Audra was half sitting to the side on his desk. Rane was behind it whilst they picked out china, candlesticks, scarves, all sorts of miscellaneous items. At some point Alina saw him look up as her sister was leaning over, and with faces close, they stilled. All sound of voice faded. Only a ticking clock, the clatter from the street, the bird song could be heard. Even at some distance away, Alina found herself feeling a heated charge, and breathless suspension. She heard his softly spoken, “Audra...” as if he were fighting something he was helpless to.
Alina carefully arose and slipped out the door, standing on the sidewalk, hands behind her back.
However, when she looked out the corner of her eye, her sister had moved from the desk and was looking around for her.
“Out here, my dear.”
“I think I have done the worst I can.” Audra came to her, her smile and laugh a bit forced. Her face flushed.
Over her shoulder, Alina observed Rane standing with hands in his pockets, looking as if he had been on a rack all day.
“You’ve been beyond helpful,” he smiled tense and sounded husky. “Saved my sanity.”
Taking her sister’s arm, they went through the door. Alina asked Rane, “Shall we see you this week?”
“At the theater, yes. I’ll collect you, Audra—if that is okay?”
Glancing at him briefly, Audra murmured, “Yes, of course.” However, she kept going, thus the Viscount walked behind them to the foyer. He thanked Audra again, and some poorly formed joke passed between them that was almost painful to Alina—who could feel the sexual attraction tight between them.
Out in the coach, she did not prod when Audra fell into a muse. At home, she went to bathe and change, not commenting as Audra said beforehand that she would stay in this evening.
It was around nine when Rotherham returned from his day out.
Alina heard him in his adjoining suite with the valet, as she latched on a diamond necklace. She arose, and dressed in a black sleeveless sheathe, having black sheer stockings, and silver pumps on. Her hair was styled as well. Discreet cosmetics enhanced her features. She stood before a cheval mirror and sprayed on her perfume, then was turning, to fetch a silver shawl when Rotherham entered.
He was fresh bathed, with raven hair wet, and his ruffled shirt undone. Wearing only the black Hessians, snug black trousers, and that open shirt, he paused to look her over and met her gaze with the usual one of approval.
“You were going to Lady Morris’s soirée?”
“For an hour or two.” She nodded and tried not to and failed, scanning his tanned and muscled chest, the ridged stomach showing between the parted shirt.
“I’ll join you.”
She nodded again, watching him do up the shirt—with some regret, before he excused himself. When he entered again, he wore a black thigh length jacket and short cravat with a small ruby pen—, which she noted, matched his cuff links. His hair was drying, sliding into layers. When he placed the shawl over her shoulders, his scent teased her nostrils with warm masculine aromas.
They left the chambers and refused hat or
coat before they proceeded out to the coach. The traffic was thick, other mansions were lit up, and people were alighting on the street to attend some amusement.
Sitting across from him while they made slow progress, Alina’s gaze went over his waist where the jacket fell aside, and then down his long muscled thighs, admiring the way the material molded to them, having a flash of that day she had seen him in a towel.
“Your perfume is wonderfully heady.”
She glanced up at his face. “Too much?”
“No.” He had his head leaned back, and was regarding her under his half shuttered lids. “I’ve breathed too much London air, and cigar smoke, and been around too many men who aren’t particular about bathing.”
She smiled, though certainly felt the tension between them. “I’ve noted a few lords reluctant to give up their wool and wigs, even when 'tis sweltering. I’ve a whole new appreciation for a ladies fan.”
His gaze was going over her face, down to her mouth as the lantern lights flickered. “You always smell delicious.”
“You chose a good scent.”
“Not just that.” He raised his head and glanced out the window then back. “When you are aroused, you have a certain scent, mingled with the perfume—that is unique.”
“Am I?” she dared softly, “Aroused.”
“I bloody hope so,” he murmured holding her challenging gaze. “I’ve been thinking of little else all week.”
Skin flushing in that aware way, Alina released an unsteady breath. Every inch of her skin seemed to come alive.
Their gazes locked.
She felt a dip in her stomach, an excitement that was centered on Rotherham. When he simply spoke to her, looked at her, she felt him—his heat, covering her in some palpable way. When he was like this with her—she saw the softening of his mouth, the semi full and dark lips…the way his thick black lashes rimmed those compelling eyes. Every detail, everything masculine and potent was magnified to her.
“I want you,” she confessed softly. “To kiss you, and touch you.”
His nostrils flared, but still stared out the window. Nonetheless, Alina almost sensed the deep vibrations of his heart beating. The charge seemed to tighten between them—thus the too swift arrival amid a crush, and every subsequent hour, was exquisite torture.
The Morris’s ballroom was overflowing with guests. During certain points, Alina found herself having to step back while people moved about, or stood in the way talking, those times Rotherham stood behind her. More than once, her body was completely against him. And if the opportunity was there, his hand cupped her side, her hip, once… skimming across her stomach and ribs.
The noise and talk, even the music, seemed like another world apart from them. Alina turned at some point to find them another uncrowded spot, her hand discreetly sliding inside his parted jacket. She felt the muscles tense and pretended to be looking over the sea of heads, while skimming his side and hip, then across his stomach, as he had done to her.
When she began to move, feeling his hand take hers whilst they nodded and smiled stiffly—trying to avoid curled feathers, trains, and elbows, every which way, she almost turned toward the seating, but he pulled her to the right.
After some progress, they found a slight alcove with open windows.
“I’d offer to fetch you champagne, though you’d die of thirst before I returned.”
She peeked up at him and grinned. “True. I like it when you show some humor.”
His brow rose. “It’s not amusing you I’d rather be doing right now.”
It sounded like a growl and Trevon nudged her to sit on the window seat, then stood facing her while she cooled her face. “I’ll get around it, until we take our lives in our hands, and leave.”
She looked up at him, then down slowly and back to meeting that hooded gaze again before reminding, “We’re in a crush of people.”
He moved and half sat beside her and murmured, “Let me find a remotely private spot, and I’ll show you how much we’ll care where we are.”
She raised her brows, her smile now slightly shocked. “I know you are a man of danger and risks, but I would rather not…”
“—You will.” He stood again and being taller, looked around, observing the shifting groups, and those heading to the card rooms. It was amazing that the dancers were left any room, so dense was the bodies.
After a bit, Alina felt him take her hand, her heart nearly beating out of her chest as they ended up between some palm and pillar. She no more than got there, before Rotherham turned her, cupped her face, and brought her to her toes with a kiss that melted her insides.
Tongue thrusting and ravaging sensually, he slid those hands down, to her backside and pulled her up against him.
He was right, she did not care where they were. By the time he raised his head, her eyes were fogged. The kiss and tongue play had left her legs a’tremble and her sex achingly damp.
Able to see above her head and over the palm, he scanned while at first touching her breasts thorough the bodice, and then dipping inside to tease her nipples.
Panting, Alina clutched his jacket trusting him to watch while she witnessed what he was doing. His large hand and long fingers easily held the entire breast. When she moaned, teeth sinking into her lip, he leaned her against the column, tugged the low bodice down far enough to dip his head, and grasp each nipple in his lips, and suckled enough to leave her aching before straightening.
It was risky. It was madness.
She tried to touch him but Trevon murmured in her ear, “Let me play a bit, sweet.” And with that, he cupped her between the legs, pressing and flexing. “There is a chair—just there, to your right.”
“Oh. God.” She blinked. Through the haze, Alina saw the round-backed velvet chair. Somehow, she reached it. Instead of seating her, Trevon sat himself and had her stand to the side. She hissed and then swallowed thickly as his hand skimmed up the back of her legs, fitting under the flimsy skirt of her gown.
Staring at him, she managed, “I can’t do this…I can’t think and....”
“Shhh.” He looked around then back at her, his lashes were half-mast when he inched fingers between her legs. “A little more room.”
She gave it, grasping the chair back at his shoulders when his finger slid into her moist sex. Her nails bit into the delicate wood as he thrust softly and slid up to touch between the lips. She was getting wetter, hungrier, and aware that he observed her between watching the crowd. She could only bite down on her lip and be thankful for the noise— because her breathing was nearly a series of choppy moans.
At one point, his thrusts were steady and rhythmic and she looked at him, trying to relay what he was doing to her, and how hard it was to stay composed.
Rotherham’s nostrils flared. He slid his hand free and stood; he kissed her, and then brought those glistening fingers to his lips in a way that nearly buckled her knees.
“I can’t take this, Trevon.”
She did not care. She leaned against his chest weakly.
His head lowered as a hand rested on her spine. “And I simply cannot do anything until we are leaving. You should see yourself, madam. Skin flushed, eyes glowing, your body so hungry.”
“Have you no mercy?” She joked, leaning back to look up at him.
“None.” He winked.
She liked that wink. Too much. “Don’t these blasted people have a garden?”
“It’s full.” He nodded and then pulled her to him a moment, his arms around her, before he captured her gaze. “If I could get my mouth on you, my tongue in you—”
“God.” She looked away. “That’s—”
“—Delicious.” He pulled her to his side and whispered in her ear. “I’ve tasted you. Now I crave more. Imagine my lips on your pleasure spot, suckling. And my tongue inside that sweet silken sex. I want to suckle the flowing honey out of it—then make it flow again when you climax.”
Dizzy, her heart beating so solid she could not
breathe well Alina could imagine that. She turned her face to rub her lips across his, before whispering, “Let me touch you. Let me feel you.” Her hand skimmed down, her palm pressing until she traced the rock hard outline of his sex. “Hot and warm. I want to feel it on my skin, in my hands.” She whispered, “I smell your scent too, I feel your heat. Your body is aroused.”
“Alina...” His hand covered hers.
She raised her head to find his eyes glittering, not unlike her own. Letting him slide her hand away, she murmured, “I can do that too, you know. Put my mouth and tongue on you. Everywhere.”
He shuddered before squeezing her and saying tightly, “I forget how quickly you learn. You’re a wicked opponent, madam.”
“Partner,” she corrected and then suggested, “Let’s get the bloody hell out of here, Rotherham. I can’t stand this.”
He hesitated but soon was leading her through the crush. There were toes stepped on, hems tread, and more than once Alina was poked in the ribs or back. It was a slow and painful journey, until they said brief adieus to the host, and collected their wraps.
“Drive around, Tims.”
“I thought we were going home,” Alina reminded as they settled in the coach.
“I realized I have a very wicked, very adventurous, Countess,” he husked and pulled her, so that she sat astride his lap. “Hold to the back of the seat,” he instructed while unlatching her bodice.
She did so and soon his wet tongue on her nipples, his lips suckling them, had her arching, and burying her hands in his hair roughly.
Feeling the strong thighs between hers, his barely covered sex butting her uncovered one, the experience was twice as exquisite when he raked his teeth on her nipples or suckled while she moved her hips to rub her heat against him.
Trevon’s head moved up slowly, his tongue laving her skin, and teeth nipping her throat. Her short pants filled the coach. She looked down with her hands in his hair still, while he laved across the round tops of her breasts.
He reached up to kiss her. She aggressively kissed him back, her lips ultra-sensitive to his breath and tongue, the flavor of his mouth. His breathing was dark and heavy and he kissed her several sensual variations, both hungrily; adding their laves and nips, suckling.