*Tristan* In the library, I stand by the fireplace and drink my best Scotch, one glass after another, while she sits in a nearby chair, her posture perfect. In the end, she isn’t Reading me poetry but some story about windswept moors and haunting love. But I am not listening to the words as much as I am the lilt and smoky cadence of her voice. The raspiness of it has intrigued me from the beginning. She could recite the letters of the alphabet and hold me enthralled. Dangerous, so very dangerous. I want to sweep her up into my arms and carry her upstairs, even knowing the hell that holding her so close would bring. Watching her, I can almost forget my limitations, that there is so much I can not give her, and for the first time in my life, my inadequacies fill me with regret. I am vain enough to acknowledge that on the surface I am a handsome enough fellow. It is what lies beneath that would turn her away. The dark parts, the secrets, the things I have done. If she knew of those,
*Everly* He bends his arms, and manages, without his body touching mine, to give me a quick kiss on the lips. Then he is easing off of me. Cold instantly talking over his place. “Are you leaving ?” I ask. “Not yet. Wait here”. He says softly. As though I have a choice, as though I am not lethargic and my limbs haven't been turned into jelly. I study him as he walks over to the sink. I like the shape of his buttocks, the way the muscles flexes with his movements. I am a mistress now. I should probably be able to enjoy the male form without feeling guilty about it. It is my job. He washes himself quickly, then returns to me with washrag in hand. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he begin to gently swipe at the inside of my thighs. “There’s not as much blood as I thought there would be”. He says, his voice filled with wonder. “Am I your first virgin ?” I ask with surprise. He lifts his gaze to mine, and for the span of a heartbeat, he appears younger than he usually does, more inn
*Everly* Even if he hadn’t told me that he would be gone when I woke, I would have known. The residence takes on a different feel when he isn’t there. I can’t quite explain it, but it seems emptier, less vital, more plain. After Lila has helped me dress, I step into the hallway just as a rather short and podgy servant is opening the door to the bedchamber across the hall. Ironed shirts are draped across his left arm. I try not to stare at the clawlike gloved hand that seems to be frozen in a most uncomfortable position. He stops and gives a quick bow. “Good morning, miss. I’m Mr. Rafe’s valet. Bateman”. I force myself to smile so he will not read my mind. I am wondering how a one-handed valet can possibly see to his duties properly. He must have seen what I am thinking, however, because he explains. “My hand got smashed when I was younger. It never healed properly. Still aches a bit, especially when the weather is cold and damp”. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m certain you’re a marv
*Everly* Evening is approaching. He will be here soon. Or so I think. Hope. I had wanted to be waiting on the terrace, but a misty rain had settled in so I sit in a chair near the window in my small sitting room, not certain when I had begun to think of it as mine. I still don’t truly believe he is going to give me the residence. I can only hope that it will be a long time before I find out. Although a part of me worries that now he has had me, he will be done with me. Anyone can lie beneath him as he slakes his lust. What difference does it make if it is me ? He doesn’t care for me enough to linger beyond the mating. “You didn’t wear the red”. Coming up out of the chair, facing the doorway, I despise the joy that nearly consumes me because he is here. I am surprised by how tired he appears, as though he hasn’t slept. I wonder if he has had to deal with trouble at his club. What does he do there all day, all night ? “No, I thought in order to hold your interest that it would be
*Everly*I fear my wrists might be bruised in the morning. I know he hadn’t realized how tightly he was gripping me when he bucked against me with his final thrusts. Locked in my own web of passion, I hadn’t noticed it either until I got up to clean myself and fetch the silk robe that he had sewn for me.He has slipped into his trousers, and now sits with his back against the headboard, his ankles crossed, as he eats a meat-filled pastry. The tray of food rests between us on the bed. At least he hadn’t left immediately. Although based on the way he watched me, I suspect that we will have another rousing round before he does.“I like the necklace”. I say.“I will bring you another tomorrow”.He says it as though there is nothing special about it. It is simply a thing to be given. As I am just a woman to be taken.“You have given me so much already, you don’t have to give me jewelry”.He stops chewing, studying me as though seeing me for the first time. “Mistresses are supposed to want
*Tristan* Or at least it would feel as though it was going on forever, I muse while my valet assists me as much as possible into my formal attire. I button the blue silk brocade waistcoat myself, because the dexterity required is beyond Bateman’s skills. When finished, I slip my arms into the black swallowtail coat that my man holds up for me. “Can’t remember the last time you dressed so formally”. Bateman says, masterfully brushing the lint off the jacket. I wish I wasn't wearing it now. I do not know what had possessed me to tell Eve that I would take her to the damned ball. I had not planned to return to the residence until late, but I had been at the club no more than an hour before I found myself thinking of her, wondering what she was doing. I had found her in the garden waltzing. Alone. I don’t even remember striding across the lawn. I know only that suddenly she was in my arms and we were moving in rhythm to the music. Her touch was light, so very light upon my shoulder
*Everly* “That was remarkably rude”. I mutter. He shrugs. “We didn’t come here to talk. We came here to dance”. “Why didn’t you tell me whose affair we were attending ?” “What does it matter ? You wanted to attend a ball, and you have. One dance and we leave. Enjoy it, sweetheart”. Within the mad crush of dancing couples, he takes me into his arms and glides me over the polished wood. I want to remain irritated with him, but decide to lock it away until later. I do not understand his relationship with his brothers… except to think that he doesn’t truly have one. But for now, I am at a ball dancing with a handsome gentleman. I will not have it ruined. “Why didn’t you let him know that you lived beside him ?” All right. Perhaps it will be ruined. “It never came up in conversation”. I give a small huff. “You can be the most infuriating man … ”. “Who brought you to something he despises so you might find some enjoyment”. That knocks all the fight out of me. “Do you really desp
*Tristan* “How long have you lived there?” Stephan asks. We are in his well-appointed library. He is sitting on the edge of his desk, Raphael lounges in a nearby chair, and I lean against the fireplace. We each hold a glass of whiskey. “Three years longer than you have lived here”. I shrug. “It allowed me to keep a watch over Uncle”. “Why didn’t you tell us ? Everyone is of the belief that Alpha Loudon lives there, although he has not been to town in years from what I understand”. “I didn’t want Uncle to know I was there, so Loudon and I handled the transaction very quietly. I pay him a yearly sum to maintain that he still owns it. The fact that he doesn’t come to town means that no one calls, so no one learns differently”. Although now I suppose I can dispense with paying the man. “But you could have told us”. Stephan insists. “As I said, I normally stay at the club. It’s just a bit of property. Besides, I don't really consider my properties to be any of your affairs”. And I