Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
‘I am here.’
I whirl round and find her emerging from a bush, and to see her alone brings relief to my thrumming heart. She is, quite simply, the most beautiful rose amid some rather extraordinary roses. A vision.
How foolish I have been, to pretend I could resist her.
‘Frank?’ she says, her voice meek and unsure, and it does not suit her. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Am I all right?’ I repeat quietly. Am I, for I am somewhat befogged by the clattering of my heart? What is this I feel, as I stand here staring at Taya? Anticipation? It must be, for I simply have to kiss her again, so I do, going to her and taking her face in my palms, scanning every inch of her before pressing my lips to hers again and breathing every little bit of her into me, my shoulders rising, my tongue exploring, my ears soaking up the peaceful sounds of her whimpers. It would be too easy to get carried away here in the gardens of Belmore Square. I must be wise and controlled.
I slow our kiss and leave her lips, closing my eyes and resting my forehead on hers. ‘I am all right,’ I assure her. ‘Come, before we are spotted and find ourselves the subject of Belmore’s latest scandal.’ One last chaste kiss before I claim her hand and lead her towards our house, my eyes watchful, my ears alert, as I try to decide my best, least risky option for getting Taya to my bedroom. I discount the back entrance, for Dalton or Cook will surely be disturbed and venture from their rooms to investigate. I dismiss any windows, despite knowing Taya would be perfectly capable of scaling a drainpipe or two. ‘The front door it is, then,’ I say to myself, leading Taya up the steps.
‘You’re going to walk me right on into your house?’ she whispers, sounding alarmed.
‘Yes, I am.’ I open the door quietly and listen carefully for a few seconds before I bundle her inside, checking the square quickly too before closing the door. ‘Wasn’t so hard, was––’
‘Mr Melrose?’ I hear Dalton call from downstairs. ‘I was just retiring to my room.’ The sound of his feet hitting the steps fills the space, along with the renewed anxious pounds of my heart.
‘Frank!’ Taya hisses, falling into a panic too. ‘What must we do?’
‘Would you like me to fetch you anything before I do so?’ Dalton adds, sounding closer, just round the corner, in fact, about to appear at any moment and catch me trying to sneak a woman into my room, and not just any woman.
‘Bugger it,’ I mutter, grabbing Taya’s hand and practically dragging her up the stairs behind me. ‘It is all right, Dalton,’ I yell back. I reach the top, haul Taya up the final few steps and shove her into my room, slamming the door. ‘I’m quite exhausted and ready to fall into my bed.’ I put myself at the top of the stairs and try to appear steady in my breathing instead of as strained as I feel, at the same time smiling while I stretch on a yawn. Dalton appears, and, as expected, he’s frowning. I pat at my mouth. ‘Good night to you, Dalton,’ I nod and back away, opening the door to my room and edging inside, quietly closing it. Being underhanded is exhausting. How did Eliza manage to maintain such escapades when she was sneaking around seeing the Duke? I rest my forehead on the wood and take a moment. A moment that is, apparently, too long.
Taya clears her throat, and I look back over my shoulder, trying not to think about how I might get her out later but instead appreciating what is before me. Anticipation returns, and the anxious beats of my heart change to thrilling throbs, as I watch her closely standing at the end of my bed. As much as she looks delightful, a beauty in her pink gown and perfectly pinned hair, she is by far more beautiful in her wild state. On that thought, I wander over slowly, delighting in the slight shifting of her body, her chest rising and falling, her eyes wide and full of wonder. I cannot wait to get my hands all over her. I reach for her face and push a loose tress away, and her eyes follow my move, her shoulders rising as she breathes in deeply. I am imagining her gorgeous golden locks splayed across the pillows of my bed. Her sun-kissed skin against the white sheets.
My knuckles brush over her cheek, and her eyes close, robbing me of the sparkle. ‘Open your eyes, Taya,’ I order gently, kissing her cheek. ‘I do not want you to miss a moment of this.’ She convulses, and when I pull away, her eyes are wide open. I smile my approval and unbutton my jacket, shrugging it off and letting it drop to the floor. ‘We’ll start with undressing your hair,’ I whisper, reaching for her head and feeling gently around for the pins holding it in place. One by one, I remove them, dropping each one to the floor, watching, happy, as her long dark blonde hair tumbles down in sections, framing her face, the loose curls wild and glossy. When I am done, I slide my fingers onto her head and massage her scalp, and she moans, her head falling back on her neck, but her eyes, as instructed, and because, I hope, she is unable to rip her stare away from me, either, remain wide open. ‘Feel good?’ I ask, and she nods as best she can. ‘Now let me undress those lips,’ I say, taking her mouth firmly but slowly.