I threw an arm over my head to block the irritating rays. That did nothing for the infuriating little bird outside that was determined to remind me I should be dressing for work at that very moment. The least it could do was learn a third note. Perhaps Celine would like a cat, one that ate whatever specific bird that was.
Beside me, Celine stretched languidly, her curves pressed all along my side in a way that was definitely not encouraging me to get out of bed.
“Hush you,” she murmured. To my great astonishment, the bird listened, ceasing its infernal two-toned chirp instantly.
“You’re a magician.”
I felt, rather than saw the self-satisfied smile cross her lips as she slung an arm low on my waist. “The bird and I have an understanding.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry about it. How are you feeling?”
“Like I never want to leave this bed. Here is perfect. We don’t need to go out there, do we?”
“I don’t… At least not yet. You, on the other hand, seem to feel that your attendance at your place of business is necessary.”
“Cruel.”
“You’ve just now noticed?”
“Noticed last night when you were trying to kill me.”
“Only a little death…”
“Misnomer, that. One day my heart will stop beating and it won’t feel nearly as momentous as that.”
“I cannot disagree. I don’t suppose I can convince you that work is entirely unnecessary?” she asked.
“You absolutely could.”
“And if I wished to set about doing that… How, precisely, should I make it happen? And please do be explicit.”
When I finally managed to drag myselffrom her arms, I was only very, very late.
It took all the willpower I possessed to leave her in that bed, sprawled across it as she hummed thoughtfully. She watched me with hooded eyes as I parsed through my clothes that had miraculously found their way to her dressing room.
I ought to be ashamed of how much her servants knew, but I had a limited capacity for cares and they were all occupied with her.
“Do you have plans this evening?” she asked, nonchalant as she stood to don her dressing gown.
“Planned to ravish you until sunrise,” I grumbled as I tugged my fresh shirt over my head. It was nearly impossible to remind myself why we could not begin immediately. The not insignificant risk of my heart giving out from the exquisite bliss of entering her for a second time in an hour was pitifully unconcerning.
“So nothing fixed?” she pressed.
“No, nothing,” I said, sliding on stockings while seated at the edge of the bed. She had found her hairbrush and was running it through the ends of her curls carefully.
I wanted to do that. Damnable employment.
“Kate is hosting a ball tonight…”
I groaned. “Please don’t ask me what you’re about to ask me.”
“But...”
“Celine…”
“But it’s Kate. And Lord Leighton—Mr. Summers—will certainly be there, so you can complain together.” Her lower lip dipped out just the tiniest bit. It was absurd, enticing, and altogether too adorable. I caught it between mine, giving it a nip.
