by Leela Ash
Nathaniel guffawed outright.
“Well, before you came along, milady, my own life was passing miserable,” he assured her, raising her hand to his warm soft lips for a most gentlemanly kiss, “Oh the days passed pleasantly and productively enough, as I was able to throw myself into my work.” He paused here, adding with a grave tone and a faraway look, “The nights, however, were quite another matter. I bided my time between weeping and mourning for she who I had lost, and dreaming of the many times we had shared together—awakening the next morn to an empty bed and an empty life.”
He took in his breath as his lover swept him up in two loving arms; holding his body closer than close as she whispered low and sweet in his ear, “You aren’t alone anymore, baby. I’m here now. Together, we can dream new dreams—then we can make them all come true.”
Within an hour, the couple found themselves safe and sound in the sanctity of Nathaniel’s manor house; with Jasmin’s doting host delivering her to the distinguished drawing room that formed a beautiful, highly-elegant centerpiece to his upscale manse.
Jasmin nodded affirmingly as Nathaniel excused himself to the kitchen, where he promised to prepare some steaming hot cocoa that would bring an ideal finishing touch to their dream of an evening.
Finally alone as she perched herself on the edge of a settee of lavender velvet, she seized the opportunity to take a good look around his stylish salon. This room, she found, was distinguished by the presence of stained glass windows and lamps, lavender cushioned cherry wood furniture with matching plush carpeting, and an expansive ceiling mural that depicted angels in flight across the vast expanse of a gem blue sky.
Her admiring eyes followed the cornice bound lines of this illustrious mural, her gaze finally descending down the side of a shiny silver brocade wall to admire yet another work of art; one that portrayed yet another angelic subject.
Jasmin gaped outright at a large, brass framed oil painting that depicted the image of a golden goddess; a tall, slender woman with flowing golden hair and a chiseled flawless face.
The model came dressed in a striking ivory ensemble that well befit her celestial image. This fine example of Victorian fashion came complete with a contoured jacket of satin and lace, as well as a bustled cream-hued, lace-lined overskirt with a crisp cotton ruffled underskirt attached.
“She’s annoyingly skinny and impossibly beautiful,” she mused, biting her lip as she froze stock still on the edge of the settee. “That has to be her.”
Jasmin suddenly realized that she was staring into the wide dark eyes of the mistress of this house; a woman whose beauty and grace made her feel skeptical of her own status as a newly minted Victorian princess.
“Oh, who am I kidding?” she released on a sigh, shaking her head from side to side. “I am nothing but a pretender to her throne. I might as well forget about this high falutin’ fantasy and try to find my way back to the real world.”
“Oh, come now, Darling. However can I persuade you to stay right here? Where you belong?”
Her head snapped forward as she found that she was not alone; and, even more noticeably, that the man before her just happened to be completely and delightfully naked.
Another celestial image now bathed her vision. This one came defined by the presence of a bulging muscled chest, washboard abs, a trim waist and long legs, and—of course—a long hard shaft that saluted her in grand fashion.
“Um,” she sputtered out, all the while never tearing her rebellious gaze from the vision of his chiseled perfection. “So I take it that the cocoa pot didn’t come to boil?” She winced as she realized that she’d just said the cheesiest, most cloying thing possible.
She took in her breath as he met these cheesy words with a sexy, downright wolfish smile.
“I’d far rather bring you to boil instead,” he whispered, adding as he flexed his ever hard muscle for her pleasure, “I want you to have your way with me, Jasmin. Take me now.”
An enraptured Jasmin nodded her consent, gasping outright as her lover swept her off her feet and carried her up the winding staircase that would take them to her bedroom.
Soon, Jasmin found herself lost in the silken softness of an ivory comforter; reveling in the feeling as an attentive lover slowly stripped away her confining ball gown and the ultra-tight foundation garments that lie beneath it.
Nathaniel made it a point to kiss and compliment every part of her naked body, finally covering her bare form with his own masculine hardness.
Once again consuming her in his strong but loving embrace, he claimed her lips in an intense kiss as his worshipful hands wandered everywhere over her body. He coddled and caressed her breasts and her rounded stomach before settling his hand between her legs—rubbing and kneading her throbbing clit as she gasped and moaned her approval.
Their lips uniting in what seemed a binding kiss, the couple collapsed and writhed in one another’s arms as he continued to knead her nub; sending raw sparks of erotic energy that ran wild through every part of her body.
Their joined beings rolling wild across the soft luxuriance of a silken comforter, clinging to one another as his pulsating rod rose in grand fashion to kiss her feminine cleft.
“By the fates, Jasmin,” Nathaniel gasped out, pulling her body closer than close as they clung to one another in the heat of passion. “I can’t get enough of you.”
In lieu of a verbal response, an awestruck Jasmin sank deeper in her lover’s arms; writhing wild in his embrace as her hands roamed the breadth of his chiseled pecs and the width of his carved washboard abs—finally laying a firm hold on his hard massive cock.
The couple continued to kiss and cuddle as his sumptuous lips kissed and massaged her own; their tongues entangling as her buxom breasts crushed the surface of his hard massive chest.
Nathaniel growled his pleasure as she rubbed and kneaded his rock hard length, pulsating in her grasp as she opened herself to him.
Finally, he plunged his long hard shaft to the depths of her feminine garden, moving slow and smooth within her as his magical fingers continued to rub and stimulate her clit.
Their elated gasps mingled sweetly in the air above as ecstasy overcame them; waves of erotic pleasure invigorating and uniting them as Nathaniel continued to probe and penetrate Jasmin.
Finally, and in a last advance, he laid a firm squeeze on her throbbing femininity; at the same time, surging forth to her core as he carried them across the bounds of an incredible shared climax.
The couple collapsed together moments later as they surrendered to the warmth of an encompassing embrace; their whispers and sighs intermingling as they stared deep into one another’s eyes.
“So, my love,” Nathaniel whispered, searing her with a wolfish grin as he graced her buxom derriere with an affirming playful squeeze. “Now do you believe that you are my princess? And, if you so choose, the queen of this manor?”
Jasmin thought a moment, then nodded.
“Almost,” she revealed, gracing him with an adorable smile. “Even so, you just might have to do some more convincing to assure me of this fact—several more times tonight, in point of fact.”
Chapter Nine
The next morning found Jasmin and Nathaniel engaging in their second favorite physical activity; roaming the emerald green meadows of Nathaniel’s vast estate on horseback.
Rising side by side with their hands joined between them, the couple talked and laughed together, before finally pausing at the edge of the meadow. Nathaniel suddenly fell silent as he turned to face the woman beside him.
“Say you’ll stay here with me, Jasmin,” he implored her, taking her hand in his as he stared deep into her eyes. “Don’t go back.”
Jasmin shrugged.
“Well, I’m not entirely sure that I could go back, even if I wanted to—it’s not like I can just grab the nearest Uber and hightail it back to F-L-A,” she told him, adding more seriously, “And even if I could, Nathaniel, I wouldn’t want to go back. I mean, sure, I
have some good friends and family members there.” She paused here, gracing him with an affectionate smile. “And you, darling, are here—thus my choice is made.”
Letting loose with a joyful whoop, a beaming Nathaniel brought her hand to his lips for a sweet, affirming kiss.
“I swear to you, Miss, I will spend our every moment together making sure that you do not regret your choice,” he promised her. “You can remain here as long as you like as the queen of this manor, resting, relaxing…”
“Nu-uh,” Jasmin interrupted him, holding her free hand up before them as she added, “I do spend a lot of time here, to be sure—but I also have every intention of heading into London proper and writing up a storm for your publishing company. And, while I’m at it, I think I’ll do my part to advance the rights of women in your time.” She paused here, pitching her head back and adding in a wail that sent the swans and geese around them flying for cover, “Watch out, Victorian England! Hurricane Jasmin has arrived!”
Nathaniel guffawed outright.
“Victorian England is most fortunate to have you,” he praised her, adding in a softer tone that dripped with love, “And so, for that matter, am I. I love you, Jasmin.”
THE END
into the duke’s arms too
Katie Maddox
Copyright ©2016 by Katie Maddox. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Thank you so much for your interest in my work
Chapter one
***
Florida, 2016
“Sheesh, some people will do anything to avoid reporting for work at their food service jobs. Even dissolve into thin air and possibly travel through time. Drama queen.”
Standing at the center of a lustrous Victorian style sitting room, Callista Vale made a weak attempt to—well—veil her air of keen concern in a masquerade of her usual good humor.
Most days throughout the course of her one-year employment at Chez Victoria, an elegant Florida area tea room, the dreamy 22-year-old was able to lose herself in the splendor of her surroundings; admiring in full the room’s shining wallpaper of scarlet brocade, plush ivory carpeting, and central tables doused in reams of pure white lace and topped by a lavish setting of floral-print china. Overseen by the glow of brass chandeliers and the spectacle of a hand-painted mural that depicted angels in flight across a gem blue sky, the room seemed very much like a mystical portal to another time.
A mystical portal that, as an added bonus, actually offered a happy hour for tea drinkers; and sometimes Callista took great enjoyment in imagining her regular pool of attentive female customers smashing floral-print teacups up against their delicate foreheads and letting loose with random screams of “Chug! Chug! Chug!” as one of their number dared to gulp down copious amounts of cinnamon brew. Spiked with honey and lavender, of course.
As a resident chef and server at Chez Victoria, Callista cooked up many of the Victorian delicacies that lined the eatery’s silver cast food carts. She took great joy in preparing the piping hot scones topped by clotted cream and jam, finger sandwiches, decorative iced fancy cakes, and—of course—tea that their customers so coveted.
The early days of Callista’s employment at Chez Victoria had been brightened and highlighted by the vibrant presence of a particularly charming co-worker. Recent college graduate Jasmin Lawrence always managed to brighten their surroundings with a hearty dose of humor and her loud, boisterous, but ultimately kind-hearted demeanor.
Fast friends from the moment they met, Jasmin and Callista often joked and laughed their way through long days of food service work spent at Chez Victoria. One day, however, something happened that even the Twin Terrors of Chez Victoria couldn’t joke about; an incident that, somehow and in some way, had led to Jasmin’s disappearance.
The day had started off normally enough for the spirited red-headed Callista, who donned the foot-length dress of lace-trimmed steel gray and the poufy white wool hat that designated her position as the ‘help’ at the manor of Chez Victoria (also donning the hoop skirts, pantaloons, not to mention those ancient mummification devices known as corsets that punctuated the wearing of Victorian apparel—and here she had once complained about having to wear heels to a college office job! She never knew just how good she had it!) and headed in to cover the lunch rush at the popular Florida eatery.
Soon immersed in the preparation of tea and tea cakes, biscuits and pastries, she just barely noticed the loud crash that emanated from the dining room; one that sent the rest of the staff scurrying to investigate as she joined them with trudging steps.
“I don’t know what the big deal is,” she acknowledged with a shrug. “Chances are, one of the newbie servers just dropped a crepe tray in unseemly haste. Hardly a biggie.”
Her opinion was amended moments later, as she saw her friend’s rubenesque form flattened hard and still across the surface of her silver-plated meal cart; her head fallen forward across the hard brass handle that lined its northern border.
“She’s not talking,” Callista muttered, frantic feet now rushing forward to aid her fallen friend. “She must be dead.”
Her mind was eased moments later when their supervisor--a tall, slender woman with distinguished silver hair and a flowing day dress of pure blue satin adorned with lace and sleek ruffles—rushed onto the scene to hover over her employee’s fallen body and check her vital signs.
“She’s alive!” Jessymyn O’Reilly declared with her usual dramatic aplomb.
Well thanks much, Dr. Frederica Frankenstein, Callista mused inwardly, all the while racing to the side of the cart before she and Jessymyn carried Jasmin’s notably unconscious body to the warm realm of a nearby fireplace.
Laying her still form in the luxurious softness of the rug of scarlet velvet that lay just before the fireplace, Callista glanced briefly at the newly placed curiosity piece that adorned its mantle.
Just that morning, Jessymyn had enhanced the dining room décor with the placement of a brass-framed oil painting that apparently depicted a handsome Victorian duke; one that immediately caught the notice of every female employee at the tea room. And, Callista couldn’t help but notice, some of the males as well.
His tall muscular frame dressed resplendent in a long jacket of azure jacquard, a white satin shirt with a stately high collar, and tight fitting taupe pantaloons adorned with brass buttons, the subject of this portrait boasted a chiseled face featuring carved cheekbones, a cleft chin, and eyes that shone as bright and azure as the image of the bluest sky. This face came framed with a shoulder length mane of thick ebony hair that fell free across muscled shoulders, and came adorned with a soft, subtle upturn of his full moist lips.
Quickly questioning the identity of the Victorian styled ‘beb’, as she so cleverly deemed him, Jasmin and her co-workers were quickly introduced to the painting’s downright ethereal subject.
“The beb, for your information, is Lord Nathaniel Barrett; the man who originally made his home in this very building—or, at the very least, a reasonable facsimile,” Jessymyn informed her employees, adding with a proud smile, “A local historian is writing a book about this area and he interviewed the lovely elderly couple that owns this fine establishment. And, as it turns out, the structure of this tea room is based on the floor plan of a manor house they visited while on a trip to London. They had seen the home of a stately nobleman named Nathaniel Barrett, a widower who lived the gist of his days alone and miserable in his big old house. They thought that it would be a fitting tribute to build a house much like his, then fill it with laughter, good food, and lots of company for his lonely spirit.”
Now, Callista couldn’t help but note, Jasmin just happened to lay directly beneath her Victorian heart throb.
“A place she’d probably love to be,” C
allista mused in silence, adding in a more serious tone, “It’s almost as if he is watching over her.”
Yet not close enough, apparently; for after rushing about to call an ambulance, reassuring their customers that things like this usually didn’t happen at this upscale establishment, and notifying all employees on hand that there was indeed “Nothing to see here—Move along and refresh the sugar bowls while you’re at it”, Jessymyn and Callista returned to the fireplace to find that—much to their shock—Jasmin was gone.
A full month had passed since Jasmin’s disappearance; and in that time, concerned friends and family had contacted the police and conducted extensive personal searches for the woman who could not, would not be found.
“It’s as if she disappeared into thin air—although, I must admit that I never have quite comprehended the phrase, ‘disappeared into thin air.’ I mean, wouldn’t the air have to be pretty blasted thick for someone to disappear clear into it? Foggy and smoggy, even?” Callista mused, shaking her head from side to side. “Oh well. Wherever she is, I sure do miss her.”
Callista had found a kindred sister in Jasmin; a true and dear friend who shared her interests—ranging from romantic Victorian literature and movies to an intense disdain for food service work (nope, make that an incredibly overwhelming, nearly paralyzing disdain for food service work)—and shared her unique and truly vibrant personality.
“Translation,” Callista mused with a smirk. “She’s incredibly, indescribably weird. I am even more so. Each of us, at long last, found someone on the planet Earth who could stand to be around us for more than—oh, say—ten minutes or so.”