When Anita awoke, she needed a moment to orientate herself. She wasn't familiar with the room, the bed and even the air she was breathing. Everything felt different, foreign. Even the birds outside the window seemed to sing a different song. But different didn't have to be a bad thing, did it? Different could be good. Maybe even exciting.
She turned over in bed and reached for Jay, realizing belatedly that he wasn't there. The sound of creaking pipes indicated that he was in the bathroom.
So this is England, Anita thought, sitting up in bed. She hadn't seen very much of it last night. The ship had docked just as the sun was setting and the hackney ride was mostly shadowed by darkness. She promised herself that she would explore the area today, though. Jay had told her there were several beauitful ruins around Bridgewood manor that she would enjoy exploring. And as long as he was exploring with her, she didn't doubt his words. She was missing him dreadfully.
They hadn't been intimate for over a week, and honestly, Anita had begun yearning for the moment when he would initiate their coupling again. He hadn't touched her last night when they'd stumbled into the room around midnight, except only to place a fleeting kiss over her lips before telling her to go to sleep. The longing in the pit of her belly frustrated her.
The logical part of her said that he was holding back only because he assumed that she was still having her woman's time. Jay was being considerate and it would be her duty to tell him that her time was over. Even so, her cheeks burned when she thought about telling him such a personal thing outright. Wasn't that too... brazen? Wanton?
No, telling Jay definitely wouldn't do. She had to find some other way that wouldn't put heat into her cheeks.
The pipes stopped creaking and she heard Jay moving around in the bathroom. Without pausing to think about the consequences of her actions, she scooted down onto the bed again and unbuttoned the first few buttons on her prim white blouse, ensuring that a fair amount of her breasts were showing. Foul play or not, he was going to touch her this morning without them discussing embarrassing business.
Turning onto her side, she pretended to be asleep.
The door to the bathroom opened and she heard him walk around before stopping short in mid-step. There was a moment of silence before she heard his footsteps heading in her direction.
Water droplets fell on her skin as he knelt on the bed and whispered into her ear, "I know you're awake, sweetheart."
When she didn't respond, he continued, "You're the most proper woman I know. You'll never fall asleep with your buttons all undone like that."
One eye popped open. "That is not true! I sleep naked with you all the time."
"That's different," he said as he straddled her. He began lowering himself on top of her, inch by slow inch. "If you wanted my attention, why didn't you just ask?"
"I do not-." He silenced her with a kiss.
"Admit that you were trying to seduce my innocent self by displaying your breasts."
Her feigned gasp of outrage filled his ears. "I was not-."
Another silencing kiss. Then, "Admit it."
She shook her head.
"Then what if I say that I was seduced? That you managed to accomplish your extremely wanton goal?"
He placed soft kisses along the length of her cheekbone and paused at her earlobe.
A small smile played around her lips. "Perhaps I would..."
A moan escaped her lips when he took her earlobe between his teeth. Her fingers curled around his arms, still damp from the shower. The feel of his solid, unyielding muscles coupled with his ministrations played havoc with her senses. His teeth on her earlobe sent tiny pinpricks of pleasure racing across her skin. Her fingers rose to fully unbutton her blouse, but his fingers captured hers. She couldn't question his actions because his lips had slid to hers and had begun its ritual of sliding, prodding and pulling apart. When his tongue touched hers, she found that there was nothing else in the world she wanted – or could – think about. Their bed was her world and pleasure was her only agenda.
When he began to pull away, she clung to him, unwilling to let him go, until she ended up straddling him instead. She controlled their kisses now, with her fingers fisting almost painfully in his hair, her tongue sliding over his. Jay had to admit that he liked having her take the lead. He liked seeing his maiden of propriety become something of a vixen.
But when her fingers rose to her blouse again, he stopped her and she raised questioning eyes to him.
"I want to watch you take if off," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "
Very slowly
."
She sat up, the fever in her nether regions grinding into his body and making her tremble. What he was asking was new to her, but she didn't want to spoil the moment by saying she didn't know what he meant. So she lifted her fingers to the button that held the material together over her breasts. But he stopped her again.
"Start from the bottom."
And so she did. When there was only one button between his view and her breasts, he stopped her fingers and gently traced the swell of her nipples through the fabric. Then his fingers entered the opening of her blouse and caressed the underside of her breasts. He loved to watch her expression as he found a spot that made her quiver. He loved to feel her nails digging into his flesh, spurring him on. But most of all, he loved the little sighs and whimpers that escaped her when she found pleasure in his touch.
Slowly, he inched her skirt up and pooled them around her hips. She leaned forward, her hair cloaking them as she bent down for a kiss. The position gave him the leeway he needed. His fingers slid over her buttocks and into the moist cleft that awaited his attention. Anita jerked in his arms with a loud cry, but he silenced it with his lips.
Within seconds, he could feel her tightening around his fingers, but he didn't want to give her that satisfaction yet. He wanted to tease her, as she'd tried to tease him. So he pulled away, steeling his heart to her frustrated moan of disappointment.
He pushed her back onto the bed and settled betweeen her thighs, caressing both her legs from thigh to foot before settling them against his shoulders. He brought his body closer to hers, teasing her femininity with the tip of his shaft, dipping slowly, feeling her agitation build in the way she locked her legs against his neck.
It was only when she screamed his name that he slid into her to the hilt, burying himself into her welcoming warmth and let their bodies take over the act as old as time.
*
Such a beautiful day, Meera thought as she awoke. The dawn sun was was slowly becoming a ball of fire, but the day was cool enough for her to need a quilt in bed. She looked around her room, admiring the teakwood desk and the gilt-framed mirror. The walls were painted a bright, gay yellow that complimented the light rays of sun that shone through her closed window.
Her eyes fell on the clock that ticked away on her bedside table. It was seven in the morning. Her brows furrowed. She'd gone to bed only around dawn, having felt the need to document everything she'd seen on her hackney ride in her journal. She'd barely had three hours of sleep. What had woken her?
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she wriggled out from under the covers and tied her hair into a knot at the top of her head. She was sliding her feet into her slippers when she heard the low sound wafting into the room.
Her first thought was
catfight
. Back home, she'd heard cats fighting countless times and they always made low, keening noises like the one she was currently privy too. Shrugging, she went to the window to see if she could catch sight of the felines.
As seconds ticked by and nothing stirred the bushes below her window, she turned instead to see to her morning toilette. She'd just begun to splash cold water over her face when she heard the noise again. Only this time, she realized that it was coming from the room next door.
Next door?
she wondered belatedly.
But Anita and Jay are next door. How could cats get into their room? Especially with Beau in his basket?
She watched her eyes widen almost comically in the nightstand as comprehension finally dawned.
Anita was... Jay was... They were...
She was completely unable to finish that thought, especially not when a man's low groan tore through the wall and assualted her ears.
She feared she might throw up if she heard anything more. Racing for her journal, she was out the door before she could hear anything else that might put the fear of god in her.
Since she didn't want to cross her sister's room, she ran in the opposite direction, away from the main staircase and towards the back of the house. The hallway was long and unlit but nothing could be worse than her early morning wake-up surprise. She tried to block it from her mind as she descended a small flight of stairs she found at the back of the house. She didn't need someone to tell her that she was using the servant's staircase. The roughly-cut stone beneath her feet was a good indication in itself.
She passed a small, empty washing area then ran across a bustling kitchen. A stout lady with a gentle smile and an accent as thick as the bread she prepared, asked Meera if she'd like something to eat. Trying not to turn green, Meera declined the offer as she breezed past and headed for the door she saw at the back of the kitchen.
She reached for the knob just as the person on the other side of the door did. One moment, there was cold metal beneath her hands, and the next, she was clutching nothing but air.
She looked up into a pair of brown eyes that reflected surprise.
"Beggin' yer pardon, miss. Didn' see ye there."
Belatedly realizing that her hand remained curled in the air as thought it was still clutching the doorknob, she withdrew it and slid it into her skirt pocket instead.
"It's fine. I didn't see you there either." When the stranger continued to stare at her, she gestured with a tilt of her head and said, "May I?"
"Oh. O'course."
When the stranger stepped aside, Meera took a few steps forward before realizing that she wasn't in a garden or backyard as she'd hoped, but a walkway.
She turned back and asked the stranger who still stood holding the door open, "So, where am I?"
But before she could finish her question, the woman made a statement of her own. "Ye're a friend of Rae's."
To say that the sentence managed to shock her was an understatement. Meera froze for a second, her eyes trained on the woman in front of her. Short, shoulder-lenth brown hair, darkly tanned skin, riding trousers and boots to complete the look. An uncommon look for any woman, but Meera had gotten so used to Rae that the difference hadn't registered.
Then the woman wiped her right hand on her dark blue shirt and extended it to Meera with a smile. "So am I."
