“Perhaps I will leave early, get ahead of the storm…” Harold mused aloud as though it had been his own thought.
And get caught in it on the way back.
This time the thought leaped to the forefront of her mind and she welcomed it, welcomed the sharp desire of it, and accepted it for what it was. She would not do as he did, would not back down and retreat away from what she wanted any longer. She would not stand and leave this table without pushing for it, fighting for it. And there was quite a bit of fight in her once it could be awoken.
The purpose swelled in her breast, brought life back to her like sunlight gracing the petals of a half dead flower on a windowsill. She nodded, the action petite, every inch of her supportive of his decision and happy about it. Proud. Pride filled her, it straightened her fingers a little, had her shoulders going back. A smile grew on her face, a quiet sort of satisfied thing as her gaze turned to Jeffrey triumphantly. As though to share her approval for Harold’s decision with him, when in truth her eyes were locking onto him, locking with his dull gaze and capturing it.
Do you want me?
It remained unspoken, but it lingered fiery and forbidden in her mind and it was visible in her posture, it was a return of interest. An interest the poor man couldn’t hope to fathom. “Why, I imagine if you do so you might even return early.”
Harold jumped at it just as she knew he would, his desire for his brother’s company surpassing true logic. “We will feast on what we bring back for dinner on the morrow.”
“How marvelous!” She chimed in encouraging him.
“Jeffrey you will stay to enjoy the food. If we return early the cooks will easily have time to prepare it before your departure?”
Jeffrey may have been reluctant to spend any time with his brother before, but the way she had looked at him had crawled into his thoughts, taken root, and influenced him. His agreement was less than reluctant. She could hear an almost contemplative note in the “of course” that followed, as though the idea of something was slowly revealing itself in his mind. Which was perfect, it was just what she wanted to hear. She had caused that. Just like she had saved her sanity with self-inflicted tasks of counting and focusing on trivial things, this was the same. Only it was so much better.
It was the beginning of something.
She had started something she could not stop, rather she did not want it to stop. It made her giddy in a way she had never felt before. Suddenly everything was exciting, titillating. Just watching Harold prepare to leave, watching him walk out of the room, seeing the servants clear off his dishes, and standing up. It was surreal, like a dream. Fear had no place there. She felt the slightest breath of faintness with the way her heart pounded in her breast, tapping up lightly against the skin exposed by the neckline of her dress, but it did not make her clumsy. If anything it empowered her, imbued her natural beauty with something sublime and alluring.
Every glance towards Jeffrey caught his eyes, even as casual as it was it caused heat to suffuse her, making the material of her dress itch against her skin, her underclothes suddenly too thick and constricting. The support for her breasts too hard and crass for her soft body, with its wholesome curves and femininity. When she finally retreated, it was anything but a retreat. From the way she stood up and skirted around the seat she had been tucked into, to the way she strode for the hallway. It was all by design; every step, every sway of her hips, and every coy glance over her shoulder with that quizzical sort of curiosity. It was designed to get him to follow her and if she remembered anything about her wedding day, she remembered that most of his anger had been focused on everything his brother had that he did not.
Which had included her.
She would have to hope he was intelligent enough to recognize her invitation for what it was but dull enough that he would not realize the manipulation behind it. She would need to appear reluctant. Which meant that the only time she could encourage him to follow her was on that exit. After she’d left his sight it would be on him to search her out. Regardless how long that might take. And until then she would have to go about her day as though she was not hoping for it, not yearning to ply his mind and discern his hatred for his older sibling. Most of the day went by uneventfully, the most entertaining aspect of it watching the way light poked its fingers through the various windows she walked past and how it wriggled across the hard stone floors and crawled up the walls.
Anticipation took each task she set herself to and had her distracted. When she went to crochet, every woven thread of color came out crooked and uneven, and when she went to read she could not settle her mind long enough to draw in the meaning of the letters her mother had demanded she learn. Everything became a blur, moved past her in a way that left her behind. Left her in hallways, having stopped to stare out the nearby windows, lost in thought or looking down at whatever was in her hands without seeing it. She was… listless. It was the only way to describe it, the discontent moving through her in an ever easing disquiet that she could not shake.
Chapter 2
She found herself outside near the later part of the evening, soaking up the warmth. The heat bathing her dress as the sensation of warmth slowly soaked through it to brush enticingly against her skin. The different fragrances that the flowers put off and the budding trees scattered about the neatly kept garden touched into the air like perfume bottles left open and struck by sunlight. It was almost distracting enough to make her forget her plan, the time seemed to move past her like sand sinking between toes, barely discernable and yet ever moving. It had her casting off the conniving sort of evil intent she’d been imbued with earlier and feeling content for a fleeting moment. There was a plain stone bench with artistic engravings in the base of it that glowed faintly from the sunlight and she moved over to it slowly before sitting, brushing her fingers lightly against the stone.
What had come over her earlier, was she really so unsatisfied with her lot in life that she would stoop to such deviant plots. Her nail chipped lightly at the stone, lips pursing a little, and then the sound of heavy steps intruded into her moment of solitude. She found herself glancing towards the person who was approaching her and starting in surprise. Not a bit of it was fake, the way her pretty blue eyes widened was wholly genuine, the expectation for him to search her out had faded into a dim thought in the back of her mind. But there he was. Her surprise seemed to eat into his confidence and she saw his weight come to an awkward shuffling stop, his somewhat pudgy fingers brushing over his clothes as though straightening his appearance held the reason for him searching her out.
Oh, but she knew better.
Just like that the peaceful tranquility she’d been lost in was just gone, replaced with that itch that had her next breath just a little deeper, her bosom swelling as her heartbeat tapped lightly against her bare skin. The sunlight brought the perfect golden tone to every bit of skin that was outlined by the curving neckline of her dress. She felt it. She felt enticing, alluring, all things forbidden and she reveled in it. Why had she never attempted to play into her beauty before? It had never occurred to her. She’d seen the way men had looked at her, had seen the bumbling lust in her husband’s eyes. But it had never empowered her, not like this. It had been such a burden, a weight on her soul that bogged down every step, dragging her gaze down and tangling her happiness up until she felt like she would suffocate from it.
But this.
Oh, this was glorious.
“Lord Jeffrey! What a pleasant surprise… I figured I would enjoy the remnants of the sun before the storm settled over us.”
The poor fool didn’t quite know how to respond for a moment, but then he seemed to collect his thoughts. She watched avidly, as though he were an unbroken stallion recently moved to a new field, starting and tearing at the ground forcefully in reaction to everything new. There was the slightest chill to the air and every bit of breeze carried the soft kiss of true cold, the kind that would lift goosebumps up on one’s skin if it kept contact
too long. But the sunlight fell through that, burning against everything it touched so intensely that she did not feel it necessary to comment on his earlier reluctance to be outside. In truth the concept of suggesting they go inside was lost completely to her, with how caught up in the moment she was.
“Ah, of course… one must seize an opportunity when given one…” He finally answered, the look in his eyes slightly confused and entirely uncertain of how to go about approaching her.
“Undoubtedly.” Her gaze lingered on his for a moment as the word left her lips, as though there was some double meaning to the statement. He himself was far too dense to grasp that though, she could see it in his expression. But that was okay because he seemed to be working towards articulating something or other, all she had to do was wait for him to say it.
“Do you mind if I sit here with you a moment?”
“Not at all,” she was almost exasperated with him. Was there no man capable of doing something simply? Her husband had acted much the same way, doubtless if their marriage hadn’t been arranged by other people then the proposal itself would have been inelegant and forced. As though the hardship of speaking was something he’d never gotten past as a child.
Or perhaps it was the hardship of thinking.
It was a wickedly cruel thought to have, she hadn’t thought herself capable of such a thought. But it was as though the thoughts she had never allowed to surface were slowly breaking free one at a time. Each one more forbidden than the last. They rose up unbidden like some long forgotten curse and she found herself marveling at them instead of feeling repulsed by them like she should have been. She watched as he moved to sit next to her on the stone bench, barely straightening so he had adequate space to take up. She was wracking her mind for something intelligent to say, to encourage him without encouraging him but he didn’t give her the opportunity to sit there long.
He wasn’t his brother.
That became apparent when he swept the hand he’d almost sat on up and then she found herself watching him… kiss it? They hadn’t really come into any physical contact on her wedding day, Harold had made sure of that. It was the first time he’d touched her and the soft heat of his lips against her skin was surprising. It was obvious he thought he was being charming, the avid way he was watching her so intently made her realize he was waiting for her to pull her hand away in discomfort. But she didn’t, she left the wide eyed surprise planted on her features and sat there like some trapped bird. He’d dared to touch her! He hadn’t simply stumbled over some inane reason for searching her out.
She could see it on his face, his intention, the longer the moment drew out and she sat there, her soft skin in his fingers. He didn’t let her go, didn’t seem like he could and then he was pulling her closer, her hand moving as he used his hold on her to draw her nearer. Her heart pounded and then their lips were touching and that selfsame shock electrified every inch of her body. Was this really happening? She almost couldn’t fathom it. It felt like the sensation of the kiss was more potent than any medicinal drought she’d ever taken. The weight of it, the liberating thrill of it.
“I hate him.”
She almost didn’t recognize her own voice, didn’t realize that his lips had left hers, and he was searching her eyes, her features for why she wasn’t pushing him away. It was so vile a thing, so treasonous. For a moment she felt fear swell up in her, she didn’t try to fight it, she let it hitch up her breath and tremble into her fingertips. The intensity of it carrying her away, making her lightheaded and faint, tears swelling up in her pretty blue eyes until they were swimming with water. He was staring at her like he’d never seen her before, like she was some fantastical oddity and she couldn’t help but agree, but his face didn’t twist into one of cunning or disgust. Instead there was simply… lust?
He wanted her.
So much so that her admission wasn’t something he was judging, it was something that was an opportunity to him, she could see it, could see the wheels turning in his mind as he took the fervent helpless tone of her voice and came to terms with it. His lips caught at hers again, warm and inviting, causing tingles to scamper down her spine. The fact that they were outside still lost on the both of them for a moment.
Then there was a loud crash, the sound of wood splintering and thunder cracking as the sky darkened up. A beautiful, black stallion heard as its hooves crashed against the stone pathways and sank into the darkened, wet dirt. The sharp whinny it gave startling her and causing her to gasp in a breath. Her eyes blinked open, having fluttered closed, and she pulled away from him in the slightest to watch the beast rampage through the garden. Dirt flying up behind it as steam rose up from its skin, the water that had started to come down cool against the horse’s warm hide.
The sunlight was still striking down in half of the garden, catching against the horse’s back, but when she cast her gaze upward the storm clouds were directly overhead, swirling angrily. The softest kiss of cold struck against her forehead as she glanced up and it drew a scandalized gasp out of her even as more droplets started to hit against her own warm skin.
“Jeffrey! The storm!”
To her surprise he reacted swiftly, fingers curling around her soft hand and tugging gently to get her to her feet even as he stood. She found herself stumbling after him, a slippered foot catching on an uneven stone before she could gather her skirts up with the other hand. Her own fingers clutched at the thick material, drawing it up away from her muddied shoes. Pulse fluttering against her skin as they all but ran for the arched doorway, her fingers curled tighter into his hand. She felt so light hearted, like a child out playing in the fields and the shock of it poured through her system even as she gasped out, felt laughter tumbling out of her lips.
Her head ducked down as raindrops tickled into her hair and her shoulders hunched up, bare skin chilled by the damp feeling that was slowly suffusing her dress and making it cling to her legs. The heavy wooden doors groaned as Jeffrey pushed one of them open and tugged her into the dimly lit hallway, torches flickering in sconces at intervals down the length of it. She didn’t have time to see if anyone was there in the hall, though, as she found herself tugged through another arched doorway and down a set of stone steps that curled into the damp smelling dark of one of their food cellars.
There wasn’t time for her eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness before she found herself pushed up against a cold wall. Her semi breathless giggles curtailed by the warm brush of lips against her own, the forbidden strike of contact shocking her all over again. Her body warmed, the feel of the cold wall fading, absorbed into her even as his body leaned heavily into her own, warmth eating away the cold of the chilled air outside. She didn’t have time to think about touching him because all she could feel was his hands on her. Each moment where she didn’t push him away seemed to embolden him. His fingers brushed up against her petite waist and skimmed up to where string drew the material of her dress taut. Fingers deftly loosened them and tugged, the sudden lack of pressure on her chest getting her to take in a full breath that lifted her bosom. The rest of the material seemed to relax and drape over her shoulders, sliding down so he could tug it down further and free her breasts.
A cinch at her waist kept the skirt of her dress from falling, but he didn't seem too concerned with it. Even if he did take a moment to let his hands skim over every inch of her chest and waist and over the curve of her butt. It was almost like he was drinking her in with touch alone. Like he was seeing her even in the deep dark of the cellar.
Shivering at the touch, she found air touching against her legs. The cool feel of it catching her up as he drew the material of her dress up around her waist, holding it against her and baring the most private places of her body that none had seen before, except perhaps nurse-maids, her mother, and Harold. It caused a blush to catch her cheeks, hidden in the dark thankfully. She was supposed to be the seductress… not a maiden. His hands were heavy on her and he didn’t seem to be possessed of Harold’
s hesitation. Instead he seemed to know exactly what he wanted. A part of her admired that and it made it easy to fall into character, easy to know what to do and not fumble it.
Every single glancing touch against bare skin drew a gasp out of her, because it was unexpected and in that unexpectedness, thrilling. Pleasure gained a new definition, it became attached to the forbidden, to the way his fingers played against her core and then pressed into her. The shock of it, it was so delectable, more so than he could ever hope to be himself. She had never felt her body respond to her husband, it had never dampened in welcome, she had never felt her stomach twist and her knees weaken. She had never felt that electric thrill of anticipation. It wasn’t until after the deed was done that her body would respond, would keen for more, for more than he could ever hope to provide. It would leave her listless and distraught, even if she disguised it.
Her voice caught against his lips in a way it never had for Harold, the very sob of her breath caught her body up around his fingers and had her body pressing into the pleasurable slide of them. Was it merely acting? She didn’t know. There was a small removed part of her that was separate from what was going on, that piece of her logically loathing the position she was in. But it kept her prisoner nonetheless, a slave to her burgeoning desires. Could Jeffrey give her more? Even if it wasn’t what she’d once dreamed intimacy could be?
In a way he already was.
He was strong enough to lift her up against the wall, strong enough to pin her there even as he finally pressed his body tightly into hers. She was no virgin and it showed with the easy way their bodies came together as he pushed inside, with the effortless shock of impact between them that had her moaning out like some two pence whore he’d just pulled in from the streets.
Romance: The Campus Player: A College Romance Page 94