A Melody for Rose (The Wednesday Club Book 2)

by Sahara Kelly

  Rose leaned over the table and reached out, touching his hand with hers. “You could do nothing, Miles, you know that. But it must have been frustrating for you…”

  “It was,” he said, turning his hand and intertwining their fingers. “We were all quite distressed on the surface when he passed away. Underneath, though, most of us rejoiced that she was free once more.” He met her gaze steadily. “Thank you for understanding. And thank you for not running, screaming, from the house.”

  She smiled at that. “As if I would. This is the most fun I’ve had in ages.” Her eyes wandered around. “I found friends at the Wednesday Club, Miles. I met you, and the others, and my life changed for the better because of it. And now I’m experiencing a wonderful adventure with people I’ve always hoped were out there, but never imagined I’d meet face to face. And I’m wearing a silk gown better suited to a houri and conversing with my improper fiancé who is currently masquerading as some Eastern pasha.”

  “Um, yes.” He listened.

  “This, Miles, this whole visit? It’s a wonderful escape from the rest of my life. It’s as if a rainbow has burst over my head and has completely thrown the mundane into the shadows. My dress choices were so brilliant I can’t believe I ever thought Bond Street modistes were the epitome of fashion. You look…outstanding. I’m enjoying every single moment of this experience, and I know when I’m old and grey and alone I’ll remember it with a smile.”

  He leaned toward her and lifted a hand to her face, pulling her chin up with one finger beneath it. “You’ll never be alone, love.” He kissed her, slowly, a long soft touch of his lips that had her parting hers and asking for more.

  He made a slight sound in his throat, let her go and stood, coming around to her chair. She looked at him. “Miles?”

  “Stand up, Rose.”

  She pushed herself away from the table and came to her feet in front of him. “Why?”

  “So I can do this.”

  His arms went around her and he swept her off her feet, carrying her out of the massive room, down the hallway and up the stairs.

  She got her breath back. “Miles,” she hissed. “Put me down, for heaven’s sake…”

  “In a moment.” He made his way to her room and opened the door. “Shut it behind me.”

  She obeyed, kicking it closed with one slippered foot. “Why are we here? Do you need a nap too?”

  He let her slide to her feet, the silk of her costume like glittering fire over her warm body.

  “I don’t need a nap, Rose,” he said, moving even closer. “I need you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Rose melted into his arms.

  She felt the tension rise in him, matching the churning emotions billowing inside her body. She desired him as well, probably more, because he knew what it would be like, and she didn’t. But oh how she wanted to.

  There were a few candles burning, but the rain clouds cast a deep dark pall over the countryside. It was as if they were alone in the world. Time ceased to exist in the smooth darkness of a room hung with shifting shades of muted colours and exotic ornaments. The rug was fur, soft and warm beneath her feet and there were more furs scattered around the floor.

  She knew this because her slippers had fallen off somewhere between kicking the door shut and where he let her slide from his arms.

  He reached down, grabbed his tunic and lifted it off over his head, standing in front of her, chest bare. It begged to be touched, stroked, smoothed—and so she answered the call, eager to feel the sensation of a man’s naked skin beneath her fingers.

  It was…utterly amazing.

  “You are so…strong. So firm. And so warm…” She looked up, seeing his gaze fixed on her face, his eyes filled with something she found most appealing.

  “I’m glad you like me,” he smiled, as the muscles under his skin moved at her touch. He was tense; the pulse at the base of his neck throbbed, and his breaths came more quickly. Daring to obey her instincts, she touched his flat nipple, ringing it with her fingertip and then scraping her nail gently over the nub. His indrawn gasp was almost silent, but she caught it and glanced at him. “Did I hurt you?”

  In response he lifted one hand and found her breast, mimicking her actions and making her gasp too. “Does that hurt?”

  She shook her head.

  “Do you like it?”

  She nodded, unable to respond as darts of excitement shot lightning through her body.

  “Then there is your answer. We pleasure each other, sweetheart. What I like, you will like. And what you like…well, you must make sure to tell me so that I can do it again. And again…” The other hand found the other breast and the twin assault on her sensitive nipples made her moan aloud.

  She fought an internal battle for a few moments, overwhelmed by the urge to let go, to shut out all but the man before her, to do the things her heart and her body craved.

  It was a massive leap to take, she knew. It contravened everything she’d been taught, every lesson of gentility and correct behaviour, every reminder that she was a proper young lady and must act accordingly. Alarm bells were ringing in the back of her mind, ones she could not simply ignore because they’d been placed there so early in her life and had been tuned with regularity by her Mama.

  She understood her place in the world, had been trained to occupy it to the best of her ability and until this moment had accepted all the strictures and restrictions that came with it. She was bearing the taint of madness, according to her family, and even though she’d been reassured that assumption was untrue, who else other than the man who stood before her would believe it?

  If she did what she so passionately wanted to do at this moment, she was facing a life of condemnation and ruin.

  But then there was Miles. And his chest.

  She stared at him for long seconds, a wave of yearning billowing upward from her toes to her eyebrows. Would she ever have another experience like this? Would she ever gaze upon another man’s body and nearly choke to death on the wanting of it?

  She tried to imagine someone else’s face, but she couldn’t. Closing her eyes, she tried again, but to no avail.

  It was Miles. It had to be Miles.

  He was watching her, his eyes steady and full of his own desires, but his calm patience telling her he was waiting for her to make the moves, to tell him that yes, she was ready. That was the kind of man he was.

  “Miles,” she whispered. “I want you. I want you to teach me all there is to know about…about…” she laid her palms on his chest and slid them down and around his waist, bringing their bodies together. His excitement was evident, a hard protrusion sliding against the sensitive flesh at the juncture of her thighs. They were of a height to make such a thing arousing and thrilling, and knowing that she had brought him to this state was yet another rung on her ladder of pleasure.

  “Are you sure, Rose? Very sure?” He spoke softly, his voice rough. “You can only give yourself like this once…”

  “I know. And I know it has to be with you. Nobody else.”

  “So be it.”

  His arms came around her and she found herself on the bed on her back, with Miles busily stripping off her costume and finding her bare skin with his hands, his mouth…it seemed every part of him touched every part of her at one point or another.

  Their clothing slipped away, leaving nothing but the touch of skin on skin, a sensation that fascinated her, since his was so different to hers. Where she was soft and smooth, he was firm and there were whorls of hair to be explored, including one intriguing line that led downward to places that made her widen her eyes and move against him in curiosity.

  “Wait, sweetheart.” He caught her hand before she grabbed the interesting indications of his arousal. “If you do that, all this will be over far too soon…”

  “Er…sorry,” she apologised.

  “No, please don’t say you’re sorry. I will very much enjoy the touch of your hand, but right now you have me at feve
r pitch. I’m going to bring you to the same level of excitement, Rose.”

  “You are?” She wasn’t sure she could be any more excited without the top of her head blowing off.

  “Oh yes…I am…”

  It was a promise, and she knew Miles was a man who always kept his word.

  The things he did to her were astounding, surprising, breathtaking and made her bite back a scream more than once. When he suckled her breasts, she thought she’d die from the pleasure of it. When his lips travelled down to those private spots only she had ever touched…the moan she gave took her by surprise. It was guttural, primitive and exactly how she felt when Miles slid between her thighs and put his mouth on her hot and wet folds of flesh, digging his tongue around and finding the perfect spot to send her into shivers of excitement.

  He didn’t stop, just kept teasing and nibbling—her body tightened, her tension grew and she found she had handfuls of his hair in her hands as she cried out his name.

  He knew. Magically, he knew the exact moment to pull away from her, rise up and press his hard length between those shuddering folds. He entered her gently, but firmly, breaking through her maidenhead at the moment her body surrendered to its release.

  The world stopped for Rose at that instant. She spasmed, lifting her hips to welcome her lover into her most secret fire. But this wasn’t the self-induced delight she’d had after reading erotic literature.

  This was real; a throbbing and pulsing pleasure that soared beyond anything she could have possibly imagined, spurred on by the strangest sensation of fullness, as if her inner muscles were caressing and pleasuring another.

  Which of course they were.

  Miles was moving, slowly and with what had to be enormous control. But he was moving, adding his own soft thrusts to her body’s responses.

  She opened her eyes, aware that they’d been closed while she shivered and shuddered through her release, and saw him watching her, his cheeks flushed, his lids heavy and his face taut as his hips moved lasciviously, plunging in and out in a rhythm older than time itself.

  He parted his lips, his teeth shining in the candlelight, and gave one last hard thrust.

  “Rose,” he cried out, and suddenly she was filled with fiery heat as he found his satisfaction within her. Her body responded and she tilted hips, lifting herself as if to milk him of every drop.

  Was there more? Could there be any more than this moment of supreme ecstasy?

  No. No, it was impossible.

  A blinding vision smacked Rose right between the eyes as Miles eased away from her with a sigh and rolled to her side.

  “Oh Miles,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

  He gave a tired little chuckle. “I should be thanking you, love. Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?”

  “You didn’t hurt me at all,” she tucked herself into his side. “It was amazing. Magical. Wonderful beyond words.”

  “Well, I don’t like to boast,” he teased.

  She giggled. “And the most magnificent idea has come to me.”

  “It happens at moments of supreme pleasure, I understand,” he said modestly.

  “No, I’m serious. After I cry off our engagement, I would like to become your mistress.” She sighed. “I can’t think of anything better than doing this with you as often as possible.”

  *~~*~~*

  For one of the few times in his life, Lord Miles Linfield was struck completely dumb.

  He lay naked next to the woman he planned on making his wife and sharing the rest of his life with, only to hear her announce that she wanted to be his mistress.

  He battled a strong urge to shake his head and slap his ears to make sure nothing had gone wrong inside his brain in the last hour. Perhaps the fabulous sex they’d just enjoyed had clogged his hearing? Such things seemed to happen around Rose.

  A very loud gonging sound followed upon that thought. There. Yes, there was something wrong with his hearing.

  “Oh God, is that the dinner bell?” Rose jumped up from his side.

  “Damn,” he mumbled. “Rose, wait…”

  “I can’t. I have to get dressed. To…er…tidy myself.” She was already out of the bed. “Miles, would you go away please?” She gestured to the connecting door to his room. “I hope that’s not locked?”

  He sighed, defeated, and staggered from their nest of scrambled linens. “Tap when you’re ready and we’ll go down together.”

  She nodded, blushing as she realised she was naked too.

  He grinned. “Don’t, love. You’re beautiful.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Miles. Go away. Quickly.”

  He obeyed, grabbing his Arabian prince garments on the way, and walking to his door while wondering if she might be looking at his arse. Women were not immune to that sort of thing, he’d been told.

  He glanced over his shoulder—and grinned as Rose coloured up very nicely. “I trust my backside meets with your approval.”

  If he thought to discompose her, he was mistaken. She lifted her chin, grinned back at him and said “Indeed it does. Although I believe it might benefit from further examination…”

  He felt the colour rise in his face and made a hasty exit.

  Damn the woman. Why couldn’t she behave like any other? After what they’d done, she should be politely asking him to set the date for their wedding, which he would have done gladly. They should be making plans to address her family, and his, and sending the proper announcement to the Times—the hell with her yak-milking uncle.

  Taking advantage of the pitcher and ewer that awaited him, Miles refreshed himself and slid once more into his Arabian clothing. He devoutly hoped that his own garments might be available soon, although they’d not appeared yet.

  And since it was dinnertime, in all likelihood they would have to stay the night. Which raised another set of questions. He wanted Rose. Again. And could have busily enjoyed her for hours on end.

  But he was no brute. He’d taken her virginity as gently as he could, but there had to have been some discomfort, he knew. He’d just washed away some lingering traces of their deeds, and she was probably sore.

  He couldn’t consider claiming her body twice in the same day. It just wasn’t right. He sighed and glanced at the clock, realising they didn’t have a lot of time before dinner. A tap on his door had him turning, and Boris’s head appeared. “Pardon me, my Lord, but dinner will be served in the music room.”

  Miles blinked. “Of course.” He paused. “Are we dining off the pianoforte?”

  “No sir,” scolded Boris. “It’s just that the dining room itself is currently unavailable. I believe my Lady’s cat is presently in the family way.”

  “In the dining room?” Miles’s eyebrows rose.

  “On the dining room table, sir. She took a fancy to the Venetian epergne some time ago and has apparently decided to bear her offspring in it.” He sighed. “Madam will not hear of her being disturbed at this…sensitive moment.”

  “Well, then…” he didn’t quite know how to respond to that. “The music room it is.”

  A soft scratch came from the connecting door.

  Boris’s face almost grinned. Not quite…but there was a definite twinkle in his eye and a tiny curve to his lips. “If you would pass that information along to Miss Rose, I’d be grateful.” He turned to leave. “Oh and please tell her that Ophelia will assist her this evening before bed. You will both be guests of her Ladyship for this night, of course.”

  “Our clothes, Boris. Any word on those?”

  “They will be ready for you in the morning, sir. They have been cleaned and simply need to dry.” He looked apologetic. “I’m afraid your boots will never be the same…”

  Miles shrugged. “It’s only to be expected. Thank you, Boris. You are the epitome of efficiency.”

  “One does one’s best, my Lord.” He bowed and left.

  Miles walked to the door and opened it, seeing Rose smiling happily at him and about to knock.
“Are you ready?”

  Discarding the obvious response to her comment, although the question for what trembled on his lips, he merely nodded and extended his arm. “We are dining in the music room.”

  “We are?” She blinked as he led her out into the corridor.

  “Aunt Viola loves cats,” he answered.

  “Ah,” she acknowledged. “Say no more.”

  God, I really do adore this woman.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The music room was every bit as charmingly unusual as the rest of the house. Rose wasn’t the least bit surprised as she walked in to find the entire chamber painted silver and gold and with delicate crystal droplets in the shape of musical notes dangling from the chandeliers in the place of the more traditional diamond cut glass.

  It was delightfully whimsical, and she said so to Lady Viola who seemed thrilled at Rose’s description.

  “We love music, dear girl,” she declared, offering sherry. “There’s nothing better to calm the spirit, lift one’s heart and send the soul soaring. Do you like mushrooms?”

  Struggling to keep up, Rose merely nodded.

  “Excellent. We have a wonderful chef who is doing amazing things with mushrooms at the moment,” she smiled. “I anticipate a delicious dinner. Do you play an instrument?”

  Rose blinked, swallowed and reminded herself to keep her wits about her. “I do, Ma’am,” she replied politely.

  “Oh, do tell.” Lady Viola turned around. “Thetis darling, Freddie…our dear girl here plays.”

  Polite and interested applause greeted this statement.

  “What do you play, sweet thing?” Thetis swanned over and accepted sherry, silks still floating around her like leaves around a water lily.

  “The harp-lute,” answered Rose quietly.

  “Ohhh….” Lady Viola’s eyes widened. “Oh perfect.” She turned to Miles. “Did you know? Have you heard her play?”

  Miles smiled over his glass. “Yes and yes. She is…well, I’d say talented, but that doesn’t cover it. How about gifted?”