*Skye* Montie had been attracted to me, and had wanted me. He had made that clear the evening he introduced himself at a charity event. But he never looked at me with the smoldering intensity thatZ ac does. While he sits across from me, several feet away, I am acutely aware of the desire thrumming off him as the wine is poured. Although desire seems too tame a word. He had wanted to spread me out on the desk and have his way with me. I had seen it in his eyes. I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted that he managed to keep his urges under control. I would be smart not to taunt him so brazenly, not to give the impression that I am somewhat of a wanton, but I need the marriage consummated before the sun rises again. It is the only way to ensure this arrangement can’t be easily undone, is the only way to guarantee a measure of protection should Montie discover where I am hiding. I had been careful, never using my name during my trip here, never using the main system of tra

*Skye* Standing in the hallway, I fight to ignore him telling his father that he doesn’t like me. I take some consolation in the fact that he doesn’t seem to despise me. And he had given me the keys. There might be no affection lost between us, but ours will be a civil relationship. At least outside the bed. I suspect it is going to be quite untamed within it. Stepping out, he closes the door, turns the key, waits a heartbeat as though needing a moment to shake off the melancholy that comes over him after spending time with his father. Then he faces me, giving away nothing, none of his doubts, his concerns, his troubles. “What’s wrong with the mines ?” I ask. His jaw tautents and his eyes narrow. “Nothing is wrong at the mines”. “You answered so quickly”. And so tersely. “That I was rather sure you didn’t want to discuss the matter with him”. “I didn’t”. He takes a step nearer to me. “My father loves his mines. Get him started on them, and he can go on for hours. I have little

*Ben* I must have done it properly. It leads to another round. One that goes a little quicker than the first, but is no less intense. She's so blasted tight that at first I had thought she was a virgin. But there had been no blood to clean up. And she is far too comfortable with a man’s body not to have been around one before. Still if I didn't know better, I would think the pleasure she had experienced had taken her by surprise. We have finally gotten around to moving the bedding aside. She is lying on her back, one arm raised, her hand toying with strands of my hair, while I rest up on an elbow and trail my fingers over her sternum, along her ribs. I had tried going down her side to her hips only to discover she is a bit ticklish. Who would have thought ? “I’ve never done this”. She says quietly. I still, my hand a quarter of an inch away from cupping her breast. “You were a virgin? But you were married. There was no blood”. She laughs lightly, running her fingers up over my scalp.

*Skye* The open vintage sports car doesn’t have a driver, so I sit beside Ben while he expertly handles the wheel. I am not surprised by his skill or the fact that he hasn’t chosen a vehicle that requires a driver. He is accustomed to doing it for himself. He doesn’t seem to mind it or consider being pampered as his due. I know I need to stop comparing him to other men I have known, and yet I can’t quite seem to help myself. He possesses not only a physical strength but an inner one as well. I can’t imagine him succumbing to madness, doubting himself, questioning his abilities … I can’t imagine him ever being anything except confident in his beliefs and actions. I am rather glad he asked me to join him. While I welcome time to myself, I want to be more than simply his bedmate. I want to mean something to him, which is a silly thing to wish and yet I do. Although we don’t speak, there is a comfortableness to the quiet. I find it pleasant being with him in the silence, because he isn’

*Ben* So she thinks she knows me, does she? Well enough to speak of me to a laborer as though we are friends. I don’t like that she might actually be figuring me out and I like even less the things that I am starting to anticipate about her. I knew her eyes would widen in surprise and pleasure when I asked about the blasted tuner for the piano. I knew she wouldn’t be entirely comfortable taking the dressing table. But it is ridiculous to spend coins to have another made when my father already purchased one that went unused for more than a quarter of a century. I don’t take any satisfaction in my ability to predict her reactions. Takes far less in her ability to predict mine. Therefore, I decide to do something entirely unpredictable and bring her to Lydia’s Teas and Cakes before we return home. As we enter, those whiskey-shaded eyes of hers glow with absolute delight. And I curse my stupidity. It’s being far too accommodating. It doesn’t help matters that it always causes this odd se