"I... I beg your pardon?"
"Do you wish me to move to Harwood Grange immediately? Or, if you don't plan to remain in residence here at Longwood, might I remain until you do?"
Gilles grabbed the chair's arms to keep from sliding out of his seat. He was both relieved and disappointed that she hadn't been aware of the direction of his thoughts. He shook his head to try and regain his mental balance.
"If I'm honest, I'm not sure what I plan to do. I know that I don't want you to leave Longwood. This is your home."
"My lord, this is your home. You're the earl now. I'm your guest." Lady Cambroke's voice shook and he felt his gut clench at her distress.
This time Gilles did reach for her hand. She jumped again but didn't pull away. It struck him that she wasn't used to being touched. It must have been a lonely existence for her at Longwood, even with Martha and Basil alive.
"This is your home, my lady. It may come to be mine too but it will always be yours as well. I will never ask you to leave."
Lady Cambroke's eyes glittered with tears and the muscles in her throat strained. For several moments all she could do was nod and squeeze Gilles' hand in response.
"Do you think you could do something for me in return?" He asked as his finger brushed along her chin, catching the lone tear that had rolled down her cheek. She held her face towards his in expectation.
"Would you stop my lording me and just call me Gilles? It feels ridiculously formal given how much we've learned of each other today. And it appears that we share a home."
Lady Cambroke laughed and shook her head.
"I can't. That's far too intimate. Though you should call me Lady Elise." Her hand shot up and wiped away another tear. "How do your friends refer to you?"
Gilles tempered his disappointment. It was a step in the right direction.
"I'm called Spencer."
"Then that is what I shall call you."
"For now."
Lady Elise had no time to question that as the final plates had been removed and he stood. Gilles quickly came behind her and helped her from her chair.
"Won't you take port, Spencer?"
Gilles liked hearing the more familiar name from her lips. He smiled as he guided her from the dining room. He nodded towards Holderson.
"I don't enjoy port. But I'd like to join you in your sitting room for tea. And perhaps brandy?" The question had been directed at the butler.
"Very good, my lord." The older man beamed as he bowed and then hurried off to fulfill his new master's wishes. Clearly, he'd heard Gilles' declaration and was pleased. And no doubt in a hurry to share the good news. As they made their way through the ballroom and it's odd selection of sculptures, Gilles reflected upon the wisdom of keeping Elise (he could no longer be so formal in his thoughts. Not when they were already quite intimate in his imagination) at Longwood. Aside from the pleasure of her company and knowing that he wasn't acting the villain and displacing her from her home, he was quite pleased with the staff and wouldn't have enjoyed replacing the entire household if they had left en masse.
Once in her domain, Elise drifted away from Gilles to her piano and he returned to the seat to the left of hers. She began to play and with the first few notes, he was spellbound. It was clear that the piano was an extension of her and served as a conduit for her thoughts and feelings. She played a delicate yet joyful piece as she waited for the tea tray to arrive. He knew Holderson was approaching when she rose and floated away from the piano, her fingers snapping softly as she made her way to her chair.
Once the tea and brandy had been served, Elise kept Gilles talking about his childhood and family. She seemed more relaxed to have put their discussion about her past, her unusual marriage and the unfortunate fate of DeVere's previous heir behind them. Though he had more questions, Gilles was happy to humor her and keep the mood light. As the hour drew late, he found that he'd smiled more in the course of the evening than he had since he'd returned to England. He felt more relaxed than he had in years. Not since before he took up his career with the War Office had he felt such calm.
Gilles pondered the evening as he climbed the stairs, making his way to his bedchamber, and concluded that it was the combined effects of the woman next to him and Longwood itself. They'd both agreed that the day had been long and had set off together. He tried not to respond to the familiarity and intimacy implied in their retiring at the same time and in very similar directions. Gilles began to feel oddly nervous when Elise continued along side him past three bedrooms, further into the wing containing his chambers. His muscles tensed and his breeches became tighter when he stopped at his door and she slowed.
Elise smiled softly, "Goodnight, Spencer." and drifted on to the next door down.
"That's your room?" Gilles asked incredulously.
"Of course? Where else would I sleep?"
"Right. Because you're Lady Cambroke..."
"And this is the countess' chambers, is it not?"
"Right... But it's next door to my room."
Elise didn't understand his dilemma.
"I believe it's supposed to be, as it's the earl's chambers. Or so I'm told."
"You and I have adjoining rooms. I believe I saw a connecting door."
She sighed and leaned against the panels.
"I understand the layout. I just don't understand why you're upset."
"I'm not upset. It's just... Well... We aren't..."
This time Elise gestured in a circular motion, urging him to make his point. "Would you like me to move to different rooms? I can make arrangements tomorrow if that would make you more comfortable."
Gilles shook his head furiously.
"No! That would be terribly inconvenient as I'm sure you know your rooms so well." He banged his forehead against the door. "I'll make arrangements to move tomorrow." He'd have to survive the night knowing that she was on the other side of the wall, just a connecting door away.
"That's unacceptable. No other room in the house has the appropriate amenities."
Gilles was tempted to inform her of just which amenities he'd miss most if he switched rooms. At the thought his cock grew harder and he groaned.
"Spencer? Are you well?" Elise started towards him and he panicked.
"I'm fine. Really. We'll discuss this in the morning. I think I'm just tired." With that Gilles ducked into his room and slammed the door. Once inside he collapsed against it and prayed for strength. A light knock caused him to jump.
"Yes?"
"Are you sure you're alright?"
"Goodnight, Lady Elise."
Gilles heard her sigh. A moment later, her door opened and closed and he heard soft murmurings as Elise talked to her maid. He tried not to pick up bits of their conversation or track their movements as they prepared her for bed. But his mind refused to cooperate. He heard words like "tie" and "gown" and "robe" and "brush" and "blanket". Gilles imagined Elise in various stages of undress and what her nightgown might look like or her hair free around her shoulders as it was brushed. He imagined undressing her and brushing her hair.
Gilles preferred to undress for bed without assistance as he usually slept naked so his valet wasn't present. He quickly stripped out of his clothing, placing the discarded items on a chair and collapsed face down on the bed. He heard a murmur that resembled "Goodnight" and heard a door open and close. Elise was alone and probably in her bed. He groaned again and crawled towards the pillows. He laid upon one and pulled the other over his head, somehow imagining he could keep thoughts of her out of his brain and willed his body to relax.
At least the fear of the dream wouldn't be the only thing that had him tossing and turning, Gilles thought ruefully.
Chapter 4
Elise had never been good at falling asleep. When she was a child, she'd found the stillness of the night uncomfortable. The world seemed too big and too open when all of it's inhabitants weren't filling it with noise and movement. She feared she'd fall into the space of it and just keep
going. As she became older, the stillness turned into emptiness and she felt more lonely than afraid. During the day, she used to have Martha and Basil. When they were both gone, she'd still had Holderson, Anna and the rest of the staff. They weren't true companions but she had the patterns of their routines to keep her occupied and she knew their stories as well as her own. But when the night came and everyone else slept, Elise had no footsteps to listen for or gossip to hear. Her only company was the crickets and frogs that sang close to the house from time to time.
Tonight she didn't mind being alone. Her thoughts were more than enough to keep her occupied. Spencer filled the entire space, pushing out the void. Elise swayed between giddy relief at being able to stay at Longwood and a heightened physical awareness of her body and it's responses to his. Aside from Basil, Holderson and the few male servants she encountered in the house, Elise hadn't had much experience with men. Anna's description and what her own senses provided had her feeling restless.
What would it be like if Spencer touched her intimately? Not just his hand on hers, on his sleeve or squeezing hers encouragingly, out of kindness. What if he touched her out of desire? What if she touched him? There was no point in denying that she wanted to. Elise shivered and pulled her dressing gown tighter around her. What if he kissed her? God, she wanted him to kiss her. She touched her lips and tried to imagine what they must look like and how they'd feel pressed to his.
Spencer's voice pulled her from her thoughts. He'd called out. Elise heard him again. Rising slowly, she went to the door connecting their rooms. Again, his hoarse plea reached her. She turned the handle and let the door open the tiniest bit, slowly.
"Stop!" Spencer moaned as he thrashed against the sheets. His breathing was ragged and she could hear his heart pounding. "Wait for me, please!" He sobbed.
Elise felt her heart plummet. He was dreaming and it was awful. She moved silently towards the bed, afraid she'd scare him if she woke him suddenly.
"Don't do this!"
She felt her knees touch the mattress. Elise leaned forward, letting her hands stretch towards him. Before they made contact, she felt the heat rising from his skin. Spencer's heart seemed to beat from within her, it was so loud. Perhaps she could sooth him without waking him. She remembered Martha holding her when she'd come to her during particularly frightening evenings.
As carefully as she could, Elise rested one hip on the mattress beside him. Then, she slid her hand towards the pillow, her body lowering until it rested next to his. Spencer's head tossed from side to side on the pillow and he released another scratchy sob. Elise rested her head on the pillow next to him and ever so gently placed a hand on his shoulder. She almost leapt from the bed when her hand connected with hot, naked skin. How could a nightmare make one so hot? Elise let her hand skim down his back, curious to know if he was only naked on top. Dear lord! Spencer wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing! When she'd imagined touching him she hadn't imagined anything this naughty. Elise chided herself. She was supposed to be comforting him not trying to satisfy her wanton curiosity.
Elise gently stroked upwards along his spine until her hand brushed against his hair. Her breath caught in her throat. It was so soft, like silk against the backs of her fingers. But not along his neck and forehead, she noticed as she let her fingers roam all over his scalp. Spencer had been sweating and it clung to his damp skin. She continued to ruffle his hair as it seemed to calm him. Now and then, she'd let her hand travel along his neck to his back. Elise traced swirls and waves along his skin, cataloguing the various scars her fingers encountered and taking note of how it had cooled since she'd began. Spencer's pained groans and moans became relaxed sighs and he hummed with pleasure from time to time.
Content with her efforts, Elise decided it was time to carefully get up. She tried to pull her arm from under the pillow and rise, lifting her other hand from his skin to push off the mattress. Spencer mumbled something that must have been in French and the arm that had rested between them pulled Elise against him. The other arm slid from under the pillow and beneath her, fully enclosing her in his embrace. "Mien." Mine. Spencer sighed as he buried his face in her neck.
Elise should have been shocked. She should have protested and pushed against him but she knew it would have been false. She breathed in Spencer's scent and wallowed in the warmth. Delighted in the feel of his naked skin against the exposed skin of her neck and arms. The warm, damp huff of his breath against her neck made her skin prickle with goosebumps and Elise was surprised at how good it felt. Normally, anything against her neck made her feel raw and exposed. This was none of that. The goosebumps were quickly being replaced with warmth that seemed to radiate towards the core of her being, between her legs. Not wanting to disturb Spencer or bring the moment to an end, she settled against him and relaxed. What harm could another ten minutes or so do?
Chapter 5
Gilles clung desperately to sleep, afraid to let go of the first good dream he'd had in almost a year. Somehow, in the middle of the nightmare he'd come to expect every night, it had melted away like a watercolor left in the rain. He'd been riding hell for leather towards the coast one minute and the next he was settling into thick, sun warmed grass and a sea of wild flowers. Then, an entirely different dream began to form. Searching, hungry hands roamed Gilles' flesh, branding his chest, stomach and back. A soft, pliant body undulated in his arms as she stroked his cock, teasing him to madness before he could join her. In his dream, Gilles buried his face in fragrant, golden locks and sighed her name. The smell of citrus and lily filled his nose and tugged at his consciousness. His mind became more alert and the solid feel of the bed beneath him replaced the dream meadow. The siren of his dreams became quite real as his body reacted to Elise's small, gentle hands gripping his throbbing cock.
Stunned and afraid to bring an end to whatever was happening, Gilles carefully lifted his head and took stock. In the weak moonlight he could make out a tangled mass of pale locks against his neck, chest and pillows. Elise was wearing a dressing robe and he assumed a gown beneath it. His thigh had come to rest across her and pushed the fabric up revealing a generous view of her legs. Gilles felt the steady rise and fall of her chest and her breath wafting against his collar bone. If he hadn't been painfully aroused, it might have been a soothing embrace. Elise seemed to find it so. Unfortunately, she had her fine, clever hands firmly wrapped around him.
"Elise." He whispered, incapable of addressing her correctly. "Elise, darling?" He sought out her ear with his lips. She smelled divine.
"Darling, you need to wake up." If she had any sense of self preservation she would do so quickly and release him.
"Please, pet. Wake up."
She moaned, stretched her neck in invitation and squeezed. Gilles bit his lip and groaned. How had this happened and how was he going to avoid embarrassing himself or losing control and taking her? He found Elise's neck with his teeth and bit softly.
"Wake up, sweetheart. You're going to leave me no choice but to make love to you." Gilles murmured against her skin. He slid his hands downward and filled them with the firm flesh of her bottom. He swore softly, cursing his lack of judgement. That hadn't helped. His furious erection jerked in her hands and desire almost overwhelmed him. Gilles released her perfect derrière and sent his hands upwards until they were fisted in her hair. Cool, silken strands wove about his fingers as he tilted Elise's head back, bringing her face and lips closer to his. Gilles rested his lips against hers and whispered her name again. She blinked lazily and moaned. He rubbed his lips against hers and then his tongue traced between hers. His chin pressed against hers as he sucked in her lower lip. Elise gasped and he took advantage, sliding his tongue in to caress hers. Gilles felt her toes curl against the top of his foot and he pressed deeper. He moaned in approval when her tongue tentatively danced against his. Reflexively, he thrust within her hands.
Elise shrieked and pulled her face away from his.
"Oh, my God! I don't know what happened
..." She pressed her face against his chest in embarrassment. "I didn't meant to... I must have fallen asleep."
"I tried to wake you but you seemed rather unwilling to do so. I haven't had much luck getting you to let go either." Gilles hoped he sounded as relaxed and amused as he'd intended because she was still holding him firmly in her grasp and he was dangerously close to rolling her onto her back. He cleared his throat. "Elise?"
"Yes?" Her voice was small and muffled against him.
"You should probably release me. Unless you'd like to take of that robe and whatever else you're wearing."
"Well..."
Well? Gilles tensed and waited for her to decide. He'd expected her to let go and flee, not remain still and ponder the matter. He was about to take matters into his own hands when Elise finally let go. A wave of disappointment crashed through him as she pulled away and sat up. Still, she hadn't left his bed. She brushed the hair back from her face and licked her lips. Gilles rolled on to his back and scrubbed his face with his hands. He was going to lose his mind if he couldn't bury himself within her soon.
"I was worried about sleepwalking into your room and taking advantage of you. I never thought to lock the door from my side." He rolled on to his side and rested on his elbow.
"I'm so sorry. I'd only meant to help. You were quite miserable, calling out and thrashing around." Gilles stared up at Elise. She'd stopped the dream? Hope and need fused within him. "Once you were calm, I tried to leave but you wouldn't let go."
"Ah. So this is my fault." Gilles teased as he took her hand in his and kissed her palm. Elise swallowed loudly and swayed forward. He could have her this night. She wanted him to seduce her.
The robe had slid from one shoulder revealing the pale, gentle curve and a thin silk strap in a light shade of blue, green or grey. Whoever chose her garments had a good eye and understood her. Could he know her as well?
Saved By A Siren: Spencers in Love Book One Page 3