“I’ll just check on Monaco,” Dominic called out behind him as he left the cottage. He hadn’t been negligent, but he had been only taking the gelding for one ride a day and he always cut the exercise short so he could rush back home to Mia.
Dominic ran his hand over the new stable’s wall, proud of his handiwork. It wasn’t perfect, but it was far sturdier than Monaco’s current one. All he had to do was remove the current stable door’s and transfer the door along with the hinges to the new structure. John Denning had told him last week that the hardware appeared sturdy and could just be reused.
As he turned back to the cottage, he paused to admire his surroundings. Mia had said on more than one occasion how idyllic it was, but he hadn’t appreciated it until recently. Their own little world…
With an intruder.
With a start, Dominic spied Tom Tillman sitting by the edge of the river. The tinker seemed to pay him no mind at all. Dominic approached him cautiously, curious to why Tillman had come all the way to the cottage but hadn’t announced his presence. His position at the edge of the stream made him undetectable to any of the cottage’s windows and his eye-catching wagon was not waiting on the main road.
“Tillman,” Dominic murmured in greeting as he neared. “Good afternoon. I’ll just go and inform Mia you’ve arrived.”
Tom Tillman held up a staying hand, the chunk of wood that was slowly being transformed into something still unrecognizable in his palm.
“No need to bother her. Just coming by to check on her well-being. Said I would.” Tillman returned to his whittling, the wood shavings dropping to the ground. “She seems fine.”
Dominic didn’t have a reply for that. He shifted uncomfortably while Tillman appeared not to have a care in the world. The man even started humming to himself, low but pleasant, and the tune barely heard over the river’s louder rumbling over the rocks.
“Heard Mia laughing as I came over the meadow.” Tillman pointed away from the road and indicated the unused land that stretched for miles behind the cottage. “Not the kind of laugh you hear at supper with the vicar. Kind of like a sigh and a giggle. I’m not so old that I don’t recognize that sound.”
Dominic held up his hands defensively without thinking. He’d never been confronted by an irate father before, especially not by one wielding a small but very sharp knife. But before he could say anything to diffuse the situation, Tillman barked out a laugh.
“I’m not here to threaten you, sir! She’s twenty-four years old. And Mia’s always had a good head on her shoulders – far more sensible than her mother or I ever have been. With all my faults, who am I to dictate her life?”
Despite the man’s assuring words and relaxed posture, Dominic still eyed the knife warily.
“And who could blame you, anyway? All alone here…no one else for miles. Not a thing to do but what men have been doing since Adam walked the earth. Bound to happen. And she probably didn’t lead you on a merry chase either. Why should she? You, handsome and rich; her, a maid with no prospects. You likely didn’t even have to crook a finger in her direction. She probably had her skirts up that very first night. And everyone knows these penny hungry girls aren’t all prim like a lady. Probably does things you’ve never been allowed to try before…”
Dominic had nearly reached the older man’s side with a few fierce strides when Tillman glanced up at him, his dimples showing but his blue eyes – also so much like Mia’s – were cold and hard.
“I thought hitting peasants was considered ill-bred?” Tom Tillman nodded his head to indicate Dominic’s clenched fists. Dominic hadn’t even realized he had balled his hands up until that moment; he suddenly noticed the blood beating furiously at his temples.
“You think this will be the first time someone says something about this? First whispered at parties behind your back…then slurred by some drunk who has been too far into the Christmas punch. But they’ll become braver. They’ll snicker about you at your gentlemen’s club. Eventually they’ll say it to your face. Or is that not a concern? This is merely a summer dalliance?”
Dominic relaxed his hands and swallowed hard. He didn’t have an answer…and it didn’t seem that Tillman expected one.
“See this?” Tillman held up the carving again so Dominic could see the beginnings of a flower. “It’s a gladiolus…or it will be soon. Its name means sword. Gladiola…gladiator. That’s Latin.”
At another time, Dominic would have smiled at being schooled in Latin by an itinerant peddler. He didn’t find anything humorous now.
“The flower doesn’t come from around here. It’s from Africa but it can thrive even in our colder winters. Some things that look delicate are strong; stronger than you and me. They can take challenges and criticisms that would break others.”
Dominic clenched his jaw, understanding Tillman’s meaning entirely.
“Gladiolus. A strong name.” Tillman rubbed his thumb across a wooden petal. “Names sometimes mean something. ‘Thomas’ means ‘twin,’ but my parents didn’t know that. They only knew it from the Bible. But ‘Mia’ means ‘mine.’ That’s Latin too. When she was first born, I felt this overwhelming rush of love and protectiveness towards her. She was mine and I would have fought a thousand gladiators to keep her safe. But she’s not mine now and hasn’t been for a long time. I suppose you’ll have to decide if you want to fight hard enough for the privilege of her being yours.”
Tom Tillman shrugged and rose, handing Dominic the unfinished carving before sheathing his knife and slipping into his pocket.
“Good work on that stable. I’ll be back at the end of summer.”
And the tinker walked away from the cottage and across the rolling meadow, humming again under his breath.
Mia brushed her long hair over her shoulder before she dropped the last of the purple carrots into the soup pot and placed it onto the stove to simmer, giving a slight shiver when she recalled the delicious sensations Dominic had elicited from her body over the past few days. It seemed wrong not only to commit these sins but to revel in them, playing the lascivious scenes repeatedly in her head and wondering when they would occur again.
Not that they could continue in this manner...they would soon run out of food and, no matter how Mia willed the earth to halt its revolution, summer would inevitably come to an end. She should really steal herself for his departure…perhaps even refuse to indulge in any more of the addicting love-making sessions, no matter how pleasurable they were.
Of course, they might have ended already. Dominic had been in a dark mood since the previous day. She had asked how Monaco was faring and he curtly replied that the horse was fine. He barely spoke the rest of the day and when pressed, he assured her that there was nothing amiss. Directly after helping her wash the dishes from supper, he declared himself overly tired and announced he was going to bed though the sun had barely set. Confused and a bit hurt, Mia had finished her chores and went to sleep in the maid’s room – the first time in four days.
Earlier that morning, he told her that he had to see a man in the village and didn’t ask her to come long. She had awkwardly handed him his breakfast of hard-boiled eggs as he hurried out the door.
Perhaps she didn’t need to refuse his attentions to harden her heart. Perhaps he’d already tired of her.
The depressing thought made her pause, the spoon in her hand still frozen in mid-air, when the warm press of Dominic’s lips on her neck and the feel of his firm hands cupping her breasts made her startle out of her trance.
“You are going to get burned doing that,” Mia warned sharply as if he were a child that couldn’t be trusted around a hot stove.
“It would be completely worth the pain,” Dominic murmured in her ear before nibbling on her earlobe.
“I can’t see why,” Mia responded tartly, still annoyed at his recent behavior, though her body was already softening to his touch, desperate to welcome him back. “I hardly have anything to hold on to, much less to tempt you.”
> Dominic kneaded her breasts for a moment as if considering her statement and then laughed as he pulled her away from the heat of the stove.
“I’ve never been obsessed with breasts,” he confided as he walked her backwards to lean against the kitchen table, his body curling around hers and his arresting face only inches from her own. “And yours have grown a bit since Mrs. Marwood has managed to feed you a decent meal or two. But there are far too many delightful things about you that I don’t mourn the fact that you don’t have huge udders like a droopy milch cow.”
Mia rolled her eyes and Dominic arched his eyebrows as if he was insulted by her disbelief. He took a small step back and eyed her whole body appraisingly and she resisted the urge to cover her unimpressive chest with her arms.
“Hmm, I could mention the blue of your eyes or the fine curve of your cheek. Perhaps I should wax eloquently on those dimples…” He walked around to her side as he studied her profile. “But I’m sure other men have told you so. One of those suitors that the gossips take such delight in mentioning.”
Mia rolled her eyes, but Dominic was undeterred.
“But those suitors could only admire your face…well, at least, that’s what they would tell you. They wouldn’t admit to lying awake at night, wondering about the curve of your waist, fantasizing about squeezing your ass.” Dominic laughed lightly at her flush before he whispered in her ear. “Those unfortunate fellows don’t have the extreme luck to be me…to have seen things they’ve only dreamed about.”
Mia was rooted to the spot, half of her squirming in embarrassment to hear these words describing her body, but the wicked half of her desperate for him not only to continue complimenting her but even to touch her again, to relieve the fire that already started low in her belly.
“Those men didn’t get to smell your hair, making them immediately imagine a field of spring flowers and you there, lying in the new grass...”
“I always think of you smelling of walnuts,” Mia said, her voice quavering slightly. “It must be because I already know your shaving soap because the scent isn’t strong at all.”
“Hush,” he said sternly before chuckling softly. “I’m seducing you and your interruptions are very distracting.”
And she pressed her lips firmly together, determined not to interrupt him again, no matter how embarrassed she might be.
“I suppose I could go on for hours on the strength of your arms, the long line of your spine, the shadow of your eyelashes against your cheek…so many delicious things that I could touch and taste. I think I could find a million distractions before ever reaching your breasts. In fact, I’m far more fascinated by your legs. Even starting with the perfect curve of the arch in your foot.”
Dominic began to pull on her skirts slowly, giving her the chance to refuse, to smack his hands away as the fabric slithered upwards but she didn’t. She found herself holding her breath and gripping the kitchen table behind her if only to steady her shaking limbs, wondering how long he planned on prolonging her torture.
She assumed that he would start at her toes as he insinuated but his breath was now coming a bit faster too and his fingers quickly skimmed up her ankles and calves to rest momentarily on the edge of her stockings.
“Oh, these certainly have to go,” Dominic murmured when his hand came across her drawers tied securely at the knee and he pressed her skirts high against her stomach as his nimble fingers quickly undid bow strings so that the drawers fell to the floor with a muffled whisper.
“You’ll have to hold these,” he demanded, and Mia obediently crushed the yards of skirt and petticoat fabric to her chest, though she could see her dull brown boots and well-worn stockings just beyond the crumpled cotton. She closed her eyes tightly, knowing that Dominic had an unobstructed view of everything above the pale pink ribbon of her garters.
“I love this line here.” Dominic ran his fingertip down the outside of her thigh before curving his hand around her calf. “The play of the muscles moving under your skin when you move. The delicacy of your ankle.”
He stepped again directly in front of her and picked her up before setting her bottom on the edge of the kitchen table. Swiftly, he took her foot in his hands, lifting it high in the air so it was almost level with his lips and Mia quickly dropped her skirts and grabbed the table for balance instead.
Dominic’s dark eyes held her widened gaze as he began to slowly kiss his way up the inside of her leg, his mouth caressing her ankle and calf, burning her skin through her only pair of silk stockings. His lips rested briefly on the inside of her knee as he raised an eyebrow questioningly. Mia shook her head, but it must have been unconvincing because he continued his trail higher and ever closer to the core of her body, his tongue teasing the top of her thigh.
“You’ll love it,” he promised cajolingly but Mia shook her head again frantically, her modesty not prepared for that kind of outright onslaught to her senses.
“I’ll convince you later,” he murmured, and she had no doubt that someday he would. She had been easily overcome by him without him needing to make the least bit of effort…she shuddered to think how he could manipulate her if he dearly wanted something.
He stood, his lips finding their way to hers, though his fingers continued on the trail his mouth had blazed only a second before. Mia gave a relieved sigh as she widened her knees, thrilled that his teasing was over.
Her body was already humming in anticipation even though he had barely touched her and her own hand shook as she pulled his shirt free of his trousers. Her left hand still kept her balance on the table and her right had difficulty freeing his trouser buttons alone. Finally, the buttons loosened, and she yanked ineffectively, trying to let his trousers drop to the floor but now he was as aroused as she was, and the trousers caught on his swollen erection. Eventually, she succeeded in her quest and gladly wrapped her fingers around his shaft, pleased that she would soon have him as needy as she was.
In seemed like only a few moments before she was greedily gulping air, urging him forward and then nearly sobbing in frustration when he would only slide the head of his penis against her, a momentary slippery tease before he withdrew and let his fingers keep her just on the edge of satisfaction.
When Mia could take the torture no longer, she pulled him to her tight and ready passage, gasping at the sensation of the head of his penis finally delving inside, the now familiar stretch and pull still making her eyes flutter shut. The kitchen table’s legs creaked under the force of their combined weight, the table’s rhythmic protest synchronized to his thrusts and her moans. Mia briefly wondered if they would come crashing to the ground at any second but then Dominic increased the tempo, making her no longer care about the sturdiness of the furniture or if she appeared like a complete wanton, her skirts draped around her torso, her legs wrapped around his pumping hips, and her bare bottom on the scratched table surface. All there was were his lips on her skin, his body inside hers, and the all-consuming delirium that was just beyond her reach.
And finally, she was there, gasping his name and bunching up his shirt in her fists, not caring if he was even sharing the moment with her as she tensed and shook beneath him. Even as she floated back to reality, she felt his own release, heard his long groan even as his hips bucked a few more times against her.
His head fell heavily against her shoulder for a moment and she reached up lethargically to brush away the golden strands of his hair tickling her cheek. The feel of those blond strands made her suddenly recall a porcelain doll with two perfect corn silk braids and a pristine white gown. Her father had won the doll in a bet or a card game and told Mia she could play with her if she was extremely careful…the doll would fetch a good price from some governor’s daughter or squire’s younger sister. And Mia had been diligent in her care…just as she had the hobby horse the summer before and the toy soldiers the Christmas before that. She played with those toys knowing that they were truly meant for someone else, that they were too wonderful to e
ver be hers forever.
Dominic was just another pretty plaything that she had to treat gently and accept that it was only for the moment. To never forget he was meant for another.
∞∞∞
Grumbling, Mia mopped up broth that dappled the floor and covered the stove. Dominic had distracted her so thoroughly that she had forgotten to adjust the stove’s heat and the soup had boiled over, causing the acrid smell of scorched vegetables to overwhelm the cottage. Dominic hadn’t said anything as he opened the windows to dispel the odor, but Mia was quite certain his smirk meant he was mentally mocking her cooking skills again. Or he was being cocky about how his persuasive lovemaking skills forced her to ruin another meal.
She had heard that men liked to be thought of as irresistible though she thought Dominic might have a valid argument to defend his position.
Not that Mia had ever had much of a hand for cooking. She had never used a stove at all until she was fourteen and even then, only rarely. All her previous experience had been over an open fire with the food the good Lord had provided in the open fields or provisions her father managed to poach or finagle in a trade.
She sat the rag back on the still warm stove, picked up the pot now filled with a blackened mess that was supposed to be their lunch, and was about to walk outside to wash the offending pot when she heard the steady thumping of a hammer coming from the ceiling. Curious, she hurried outside and stared in astonishment at the shingles littering the ground before peering up at the roof.
Dominic stood, his legs braced far apart but otherwise looking very completely at ease, a hammer hanging loosely from one hand, as he surveyed his handiwork. He had left his cravat and jacket inside and his loose white shirt rippled against his body as wind whipped over the shingles.
“I told you I was going to do that!” Mia yelped. If she was no hand in a kitchen, he certainly had no business on a roof.
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