*Ben* I wake her up before dawn so I can have her before sunlight steals into the room. Then, even though she invites me to stay, to prove to myself I still possess enough willpower to resist her charms, I dress and go to the library to study my ledgers. Instead, I keep seeing her sitting in the chair before the fireplace that first night. We will probably spend many nights there. Either there or in my bedchamber or wandering the hallways. It isn’t as though I am providing her with an abundance of options. Not that she needs any options. She is there to warm my bed and provide me with an heir. She isn’t supposed to make me want to laugh. She isn’t supposed to make me want to give her more. Nor is she supposed to make me glad for her presence when I walk into the breakfast dining room after growing tired of staring at her empty chair in the library. She is dressed in the dark blue she had worn yesterday, which I suppose signals that she is going to tidy up the music room a bit more. I
*Skye* The open vintage sports car doesn’t have a driver, so I sit beside Ben while he expertly handles the wheel. I am not surprised by his skill or the fact that he hasn’t chosen a vehicle that requires a driver. He is accustomed to doing it for himself. He doesn’t seem to mind it or consider being pampered as his due. I know I need to stop comparing him to other men I have known, and yet I can’t quite seem to help myself. He possesses not only a physical strength but an inner one as well. I can’t imagine him succumbing to madness, doubting himself, questioning his abilities … I can’t imagine him ever being anything except confident in his beliefs and actions. I am rather glad he asked me to join him. While I welcome time to myself, I want to be more than simply his bedmate. I want to mean something to him, which is a silly thing to wish and yet I do. Although we don’t speak, there is a comfortableness to the quiet. I find it pleasant being with him in the silence, because he isn’
*Skye* As we walk, I count five taverns. I suspect my husband has frequented them all. Ben turns us onto another street. We pass a hostel and a blacksmith. At the end of the road stands a large building with huge doors that hang open. The sign above them reads “Cabinetry and Such”. Ben begins guiding me toward it. I am rather certain why we are here, and quite suddenly I don’t want him to give me another gift. Digging in my heels, I resist until he stops and looks at me. I shake my head. “I don’t need a dressing table”. “You told me that ladies require them”. He says. “I was being difficult”. I admit. He arches a brow. “As opposed to now when you are being so accommodating ?” “You’re allowing me to have servants. You’re arranging for the piano to be tuned. I can go without a dressing table. Or I can find one in an abandoned bedchamber”. I say. “I’ve already stated that’s not an option”. He shakes his head. I can’t explain why I am not comfortable with it. I just am not. “I didn
*Ben* So she thinks she knows me, does she? Well enough to speak of me to a laborer as though we are friends. I don’t like that she might actually be figuring me out and I like even less the things that I am starting to anticipate about her. I knew her eyes would widen in surprise and pleasure when I asked about the blasted tuner for the piano. I knew she wouldn’t be entirely comfortable taking the dressing table. But it is ridiculous to spend coins to have another made when my father already purchased one that went unused for more than a quarter of a century. I don’t take any satisfaction in my ability to predict her reactions. Takes far less in her ability to predict mine. Therefore, I decide to do something entirely unpredictable and bring her to Lydia’s Teas and Cakes before we return home. As we enter, those whiskey-shaded eyes of hers glow with absolute delight. And I curse my stupidity. It’s being far too accommodating. It doesn’t help matters that it always causes this odd se
*Ben* I think about Skye while I am at the mines. I think about her while I gallop my horseover the moors toward the manor. I think about her as I bathe, while I stride through the hallways in search of her, fairly certain where I will find her. In the music room. I am not disappointed. Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean against the door jamb and simply watch. Standing on a ladder, dusting my mother’s portrait, she is dressed much as she had been the day before, just without my hessians, as she now has two strapping lads, one about six inches taller than the other, to deal with the pesky spiders. The new servants are moving furniture so two young women, one of them Cullie, can roll up the various carpets. I suspect they will be getting a beating in the morning, along with the draperies that have already been removed. Another young woman is using a long-handled broom to sweep away the dust and cobwebs from the walls. White sheeting has been placed over the piano to protect it fr
*Ben* Three evenings later, after returning from a day at the mines, I am disappointed to find the door to the music room locked. I have grown accustomed to finding my wife there, to having a few minutes to observe her before someone spots me lurking in the doorway and gasps or shrieks in surprise. In spite of my assurances that no ghost is hovering about, it seems some are still expecting the sudden appearance of a wraith. I don’t much like that I anticipate seeing Skye at the end of the day, that she has so quickly become an intricate part of my life. I awake with her in my arms, and if I am fortunate enough to find the sun has yet to appear, then I begin my morning with a rousing sexual encounter. She is the most enthusiastic partner I have ever known… or perhaps it is simply that I take such satisfaction in pleasuring her. Her moans and cries inflame my desires. Even now, standing before the blasted locked door, I want her. But I won’t take her, not until we dine. I am determined t
*Skye* Anticipation is an aphrodisiac. I can not help but believe that as I enjoy my dessert. I had been tempted earlier to unlock the door, to share with Ben then and there the results of me and my servants’ efforts. But all through dinner I tingle with the awareness of what is to come. While I know it is quite likely he will not be as taken with the room as I am now that it is put back together, my enthusiasm for sharing it is not dimmed. It is my sanctuary. I have made it so with each spider killed, each cobweb swept away, each fleck of dust removed, every inch of wood polished, every bit of cloth and carpet beaten until the years of neglect faded away. With that one room tidied and vibrant again, I can envision the magnificence that had once encompassed the entire residence. It is a shame, a crime even, that this house has been left to ruin. I want to give back to Ben what it has once been. That he grew up with such decay and neglect saddens me beyond all reason. I know he fanci
*Skye* Keep playing? Is he mad? If not for the wicked challenge in his eyes before he disappears beneath my skirts, I may have kicked him out of the way. Instead I return my fingers to the keys while he brackets my hips and slides me to the very edge of the bench. I strike a wrong chord, cringe. I am not going to allow the kisses he is trailing along the inside of my thigh to distract me. It matters not that I can scarcely breathe or that I am suddenly so warm I can swear the room has caught fire. Then his mouth lands on the bud of my desire and I nearly come up off the bench. Instead I pound the keys as his tongue circles, as the pleasure mounts. I drop my head back, unable to concentrate on the tune, simply striking random chords. What does it matter when he is doing such wicked, wicked things, when he is distracting me, causing me to be perched on the threshold of so many incredible sensations swirling through me, urging me to cry out… “Ben, what the devil…” With a screech at th