“You look tired.”
She turned a bit sheepish, although her tone was light when she remarked, “Yes, well, I suppose learning billiards is quite exhausting.”
He grinned at the quip, and then bent down and lifted her into his arms. Her eyes popped wide open. “What are you doing?”
“Carrying you to bed?—”
“Excuse me, sir,” she began haughtily, “but I don’t believe I gave you leave to?—”
“—to get some rest,” he finished, effectively cutting off her tirade.
“Oh.”
He chuckled as he carried her out of the room and down the hall to her bedchamber. The door was open, but instead of taking her all the way inside, he set her on her feet at the threshold. “I don’t trust myself to go any further,” he murmured. His cock was still quite furious at him for leaving things unfinished.
She nodded, and opened her mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it, because she closed it and shook her head with a slight frown.
He took pity on her and offered the dismissal she was apparently having trouble saying. “Sleep well.”
He turned on his heel as her door closed softly behind her.
Once the door shut,Meliah leaned against it with a heavy exhale. Her body was humming. She didn’t know it was possible for her body to feel such raw emotion, but she certainly understood how Lord Belmont had earned the title of the current rake of the month. She couldn’t dare try and explain her interlude with the earl, nor how she would never be the same because of it. With a few touches and softly spoken words, he had changed her, perhaps irrevocably. It was as if something wild and… primitive had been set free inside of her. Her purpose in following Lord Belmont was to learn the truth, but she feared she was in danger of learning much more than that before she returned to London.
And she wasn’t entirely dismayed about it.
She walked over to the bed and flopped down on top of it, still fully clothed in the pink dress. This poor gown was going to be in shambles before she returned it. The seamstress was likely going to consider it a lost cause. The sad thing was that it wasn’t Meliah’s to begin with, so the guilt she was feeling from the temporary loan was starting to gnaw at her.
However, the attraction she felt toward the earl was stronger. And decidedly more dangerous.
Rolling onto her side, she contemplated everything that had happened. Her body was still throbbing in the aftermath of… whatever he’d done to her. Something told her she’d experienced what her friend, Samantha, referred to as the “Little Death.” She had mentioned it was a sensation unlike any other and what the maids gossiped about when they thought they weren’t being overheard by a simple orange seller.
For a moment, Meliah wondered if she hadn’t soared to the heavens.
A sigh escaped her and she reminded herself that she was a writer, and she shouldn’t be engaging in such shameful activity if she wanted to be considered as a respectful journalist. Her parents would certainly be horrified if they knew she was acting in such a manner without the benefit of a proper proposal.
She turned around and laid flat on her back again. Throwing one arm up behind her head, she contemplated her childhood, the fate of women, and the bleak future that stretched out before her if she didn’t succeed in fulfilling her dreams. The earl carried enough power that he could put in a good word for her, and although he was a rake, he was still a peer of the realm. People took notice when a lord was speaking. She supposed she could strike a deal with Lord Belmont, but that wasn’t how she wanted to earn her reputation. She wanted to achieve it by her merit, not because of any sort of bribery or browbeating attempt.
And yet, as much as she told herself to focus on the truth, she was curious to know more about this morning. Could that brilliant sensation happen more than once? Were there other ways it might happen?
The earl might not have intended to awaken her desires, but her mother had always claimed Meliah was a passionate child. She had always been eager to learn more about the world, to explore everything it had to offer.
What else did Lord Belmont have to offer?
She grinned, thinking of the possibilities. If she was going to go so far as to ruin herself, shouldn’t it be with a known rake who knew how to properly please a woman?
She considered the shoemaker next to her parent’s weaver shop and had to wince. He was a middle-aged widower, and although he might have three children that toiled away in the shop with him, Meliah didn’t think that he was capable ofpleasing anyone but himself. He was a gruff sort that barked orders at his children and scowled at her when she passed by in the street. She definitely didn’t want to know what it was like to lay with someone like that. Although her father had promised her that she wouldn’t have to marry anyone unless it was of her choosing, Meliah had to wonder how long his generosity would last. She was one and twenty years of age, and although she might not be considered a full spinster as yet, she was approaching the age when she would be “on the shelf.” She didn’t want to be a hardship on her parents even if she was expected to take up the reins of the shop someday.
She supposed she would have to decide whether or not to continue allowing the earl’s attentions—or keep things strictly off limits until arrangements could be made for her to return to London.
With that question still swirling in her mind, she finally drifted off to sleep.
When Meliah awoke,the sun was high in the sky. She squinted her gaze against the blinding light and checked the nearby clock. It read half past three.
She blinked several times, realizing that she had nearly slept the entire day away. Granted, she hadn’t had a wink of sleep the night before, but if she didn’t rouse herself now, the same would hold true for this evening.
Getting out of bed, she was pleasantly surprised to see a silver tea service on the side table and water in the basin. It was slightly warm, the tea still tepid, which proved that it hadn’t been sitting there overlong. There was also a note which she assumed was from Lord Belmont, as the script was perfectlywritten with a masculine flourish. The idea that he had placed it there himself as she slept caused her stomach to give an excited flip.
I hope you are well rested. I have done as promised and procured a few gowns for you. They are in the wardrobe, along with some other things that most ladies deem necessary. Feel free to explore the manor at your leisure.
