“Plenty. Although, I did note the advertisement stated none needed?” I raise my eyebrow wondering what exactly he’s looking for.
“As long as you know how to heat a bottle and change diapers, feed and care for my children likeyour lifedepends on their well-being, then you’re hired. I don’t have much time to dawdle with interviews. If you fail to please me, then you’ll be let go immediately.”
I smile at his threat, certain that he doesn’t know the first thing about killing, but I enjoy the sentiment all the same. My pinky finger is far more lethal than his entire being, but I’ll let him think he has the upper hand. Playing up my femineity has served me well.
“What is your name?”
“Marigold. Marigold Peppins.”
“Are you in mourning, Ms. Peppins?” The way his eyes linger on my black dress makes my corset suddenly feel a stitch too tight.
“To be amongst the living is to always be in some state of mourning, is it not? But no, I haven’t lost anyone recently to be mourning. Black is just my favorite color.” He sits back, eyebrows raised his gaze burning. I know by that look that I’ve piqued his curiosity. “What can you tell me about the children?” I ask as the maid brings over a trolly with tea, complete with honey, sugar, and some milk laid out on top.
“Sugar?” The maid asks.
“A spoonful, please.” I register Mr. Blackford’s frown at my declaration. He seems the sort to take his tea without any fixings. Serious and closed off. Though his slightly disheveled appearance leads me to believe that he’s capable of being unwound with the pull of a thread. I tuck away that information. It amazes me how much people reveal of themselves with just a look.
“You disapprove?” I ask, bringing the steaming liquid to my lips.
“To each their own.” He grumbles as the maid distributes the tea to Mr. Blackford, and I feel the faintest hint of a smirk watching her pour the Earl Grey and leaving it at that. I do love being right.
“So, the children?” I prod again raising the floral embossed cup to my lips.
“They’re quite young. Royland is three and Sarah is eleven months. You’d be expected to care for them from the moment they wake, till the moment they go to sleep, and even then, they tend to wake during the night.”
I purse my lips. It’s not uncommon for staff to care for all areas of the children’s lives, but at eleven months the mother is usually still involved.
“You might be wondering about their mother, and unfortunately Mrs. Blackford passed upon Sarah’s birth.”
Ah. He read my confusion like a book.
“How, unfortunate.” I sip my tea again, lashes kissing the tops of my cheeks. I can feel his eyes on me as he shifts in the chair across from me. The air between us seems to grow thin for a moment. I frown at this development. I’m meant to come in and get my job done, not get flutters for a man. A handsome man, but that’s irrelevant. I must be focused on the task at hand. I cross my legs, allowing for a sliver of my ankle to be seen. He swallows hard following the motion.
“Let me show you to your quarters.”
Well, that was easy. Bagging the position without even a personal question.
BARRETT
That bewitching woman has infiltrated my thoughts from the moment she stepped into my house with her cloying floral scent and enchanting aura. She has the type of face that men write poems about and twisted dark beings like me dream of defacing. The filthy thoughts that churn in my head would make any grown man blush. This brokenness that lives inside me floods my senses and surges through my veins like a tidal wave that cannot be contained. My dark thoughts lick against my mind urging for me to release it. How pretty she would look tied up against my bedpost with nowhere to go. Legs spread wide for me to do with as I please.
I’ve locked myself in my room after showing her to her quarters, afraid that I would fumble all over myself and end up hauling her away over my shoulder like some lust crazed caveman. Though that’s exactly how I feel in this moment.
I didn’t even ask her any questions, just hired her on the spot like a lovesick fool. I spent the entirety of our meeting attempting to contain my overwhelming attraction, feeling as if I would profess my dark thoughts at any moment.
My cock strains against my trousers, and I hurriedly unbutton my pants letting it spring free.
I haven’t felt desire for anyone in almost a year. Plenty of attractive women had shown their interest in becoming the next Mrs. Blackford since Harriet’s passing. They stopped by the house wearing low cut dresses, batting their eyelashes in fake pity while they eyed my sizable fortune. My title. My estate. But they couldn’t handle what lies in the shadows of my soul. A fissure of torment that formed the moment Harriet took her last breath. Though something in the way Ms. Peppins carries herself has me wondering if she could accept that part of me. Her knowing smile and assessing eyes flit through my mind. How I’d love to make her scream.
I tug on my length seeing only one face in my mind as I work my hand down relieving this pent-up pressure as images of me lifting Marigold’s skirt and having my cock sink into her tight, wet center. How she would open for me. How good she would sound saying my name. How badly I wish to press my lips to hers as I lose myself in her. She would look so beautiful beneath me, breaking from my touch. My body lets out a shudder as I imagine how good we would be together. How I would worship her, wringing pleasure from her body. I’ve never felt so utterly unhinged over a woman before. And from a short meeting at that. I had to get away before I did something I would regret. Groaning, I let the sensation of heat and desire engulf my every nerve. I feel myself going over the edge, panting as I thrust into my own hand imagining it was her warm center I was pressing into. I spill my seed into my hand, thinking of what it would feel like to have her lips on my neck, whispering my name as she orgasms with me.
Guilt immediately washes over me. I stumble backwards, fumbling my steps into the washroom. A basin full of tepid water waits for me and I waste no time grabbing for it, letting the liquid cleanse me from my moment of weakness. I know nothing about this woman other than how she favors the color black and likes far too much sugar in her tea.
“Fuck. I’m so sorry, Harriet.” I mutter as if she can hear me. I’ve truly lost it, conversing with the dead. Expecting that she will answer me somehow. I drag my wet hands through a towel, ridding myself of any evidence of my straying heart.
We’d agreed, Harriet and I, that no matter what happened to us, we wouldn’t replace the other. Though I’d never actually thought I would have to adhere to it, I’ve held tight to that arrangement all this time. Happy to be a widower forever. Lost in my grief and living for her memory. Alone with this beast that taunts my heart and tarnishes my soul. Marigold’s presence wouldn’t change that. I wouldn’t let it. I’d taken a vow, and Blackfords always upheld their promises.
I could let Ms. Peppins go, I suppose, but no one else had answered the advertisement and the service he’d used was no longer accepting my messages. I could ignore the twist in my gut at the sight of her. It’s just lust. Any man would fall for such a woman after this long of a time without any physical touch. It was a simple lapse in judgement. A fleeting emotion. Nothing to worry about. Besides, hoping Marigold could accept this broken, twisted part of me is nothing but a fool’s dream.
