by Renée Dahlia
“And you think I might be the one?” Priya cut off Rosalie’s sentence.
“Yes. We... ahh, connect well.” A flush rose up on Rosalie’s face, a very pretty blush on her features, and Priya’s fingers tingled. She wanted to caress her skin and leaned closer for a kiss before remembering where she was. Even in her parent’s house where they would likely accept such a relationship, it wasn’t exactly the done thing to demonstrate any affection in such a public location. Her two uncles were very careful about where and when they displayed those small moments of share affection for each other, and Priya was pleased she had their example to help her navigate her own feelings and desires. To know she’d be accepted without censure and to have them, and her friends like Nell and Luciana, in her life showing her how to deal with society’s expectations while still being herself was priceless. For the first time today she noticed the tension in her shoulders; they ached a little as if she’d spent the whole day holding herself stiffly apart from Rosalie, and all she wanted to do was sink closer and relax against Rosalie’s warm soft frame.
“We do. I will come to dinner and we can discuss it. There are a few other things I wanted to talk about after today as well.”
“Brilliant. I still haven’t shown you what I discovered about Fraud Finder.”
Priya rolled her eyes. “Oh blast to him. I’m rather tired of men and their views about me.”
Rosalie laughed, a throaty joyful laugh. “Remember when we met and Miss Stephens introduced you as the sister of...”
“And you said; Oh, I do so hate being defined by my male relatives.” Priya grinned. “That was the moment I decided you were the one.”
Rosalie’s flush deepened into a rosy pink. “You did?”
“For the evening.” Priya clarified but as she spoke, she realised more. “I’ve since come to realise that you might be the one for me for more than one night too.” Priya’s voice crackled and she wrapped her arms around her waist to stop herself making a physical declaration in the hallway of her family home.
“I would like that.”
Priya breathed in and out slowly to calm the unsteady beat of her heart. “Let me gather a few items and I’ll drive us to your house.” She waited for Rosalie’s nod, before pacing up the stairs towards her room to pack for the evening. Her pulse galloped as she packed a small case with enough clothes for tomorrow, and all her usual face creams, hairbrush, and tooth powder. Was she really doing this?
***
Rosalie stared around the grand entrance hallway of Priya’s family home as Priya galloped up the wide staircase. Even growing up surrounded by wealth, this house was incredible. This entrance space alone was big enough to hold fifty people. The bank still paid for the upkeep on the house she’d grown up in and her father used it whenever he was in London. Rosalie hadn’t been there in years, she just paid the bills and the staff and left it for her father to use as he wanted. Priya’s family home was larger with more trappings and it declared them as one of England’s wealthiest families, and somehow it felt friendlier, warmer, and more like a home occupied by a real family than the starkness of the house she’d grown up in. She sighed. It was people that made a home, and Priya was so lucky to have a family who cared for each other. The way she’d interacted with her brother today in his office reminded Rosalie of the way Gloria and herself had been as children and young adults, before Gloria had married leaving Rosalie alone again.
Was she really doing this? Was she about to get exactly what she wanted for so long? Her and Priya in her home, spending the evening together on the sofa chatting about the world. Could reality align with her dreams? She had been alone for so long that it didn’t seem real to finally have someone who wanted to spend an evening with her, and for more than just physical pleasure. Or was she pretending again? Perhaps Priya only wanted kisses. Rosalie straightened her jacket. She would find out soon enough.
“Would you like some tea while you wait?” The butler, handsome in his uniform, asked.
“No. I’m fine. I’ll just wait here for Miss Howick.”
“She has told me her plans. I wish you both happiness.”
Rosalie frowned. “What exactly did she tell you?”
“Enough.” The Indian butler paused. “We have always been an unusual household, one that is a safe haven for people like Lord Dalhinge, and people who don’t immediately fit into the class system in England for a variety of reasons.”
“I see.” She didn’t really and she was unaccustomed to having the staff open up to her—an infrequent guest—like this. What had Priya said about her to inspire such a discussion? Did the butler mean he wished her and Priya happiness in the way people said the phrase for newly engaged couples? If so, he was correct in also saying this was an unusual household, and not just because the staff were open about knowing the intimate relationships of those they looked after. All staff knew everything that happened in a household, there was nothing unique about that; but this acceptance, this was special.
“This job is more than a job to me. No other family with such wealth and status would employ either myself or my son in such a trusted role; most of them like to uphold the old ways of the colony and keep people like myself in unseen serving roles. When I learned that from Mr Howick that his mother was Indian, and he’d chosen to give his children Indian first names as way to keep them connected to that part of their heritage, I knew I wanted this job more than any other. It is difficult to live in England for people of our background. Many people would rather not see us, and I immediately understood how difficult it must be for the Howick children to spend their lives born into a society who would like to sweep the relationship with India under the carpet.”
“I’ve never thought about it that way.”
“Excuse me for saying this, but you haven’t needed to, have you?”
“No. You are absolutely correct.” Rosalie heard the quiet censure in his voice and nodded solemnly. “I love Priya’s name and I’m sorry that I never gave it much thought.”
“Culture and heritage are about more than a name. However, the choice of names is a small gesture, a connection, and that matters. It told me that this family would respect my values.”
“They are truly lovely people. I spend my days at work surrounded by England’s richest people, both those with long term generational land based wealth, and those who have built wealth recently through industry, and I can tell you with hand on my heart that none match the Howick’s for empathy.”
“I see you agree with me. I’m glad. Miss Howick is a special person. She is loyal to all and will try to befriend everyone. She needs a true friend who appreciates her without taking advantage of her openness.”
Rosalie bowed her head. “I will do my very best.”
“What will you do your best at?”
Rosalie glanced at the butler’s impassive expression as Priya walked elegantly down the stairs, her knee length dress floating around her stockinged legs. “Being a good friend to you.”
Priya nodded and the heavy ruby slung around her throat wobbled as if she’d swallowed. Rosalie wanted to know what she was thinking. Again. She held herself taut, not wanting to pry in case Priya changed her mind.
“Mr Sharma. Has the car been brought around?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
It wasn’t Priya’s fault that she wanted to take this journey together slower than Rosalie did. If Rosalie had it her way, they’d already be living together in domestic harmony, coming home from work to relax together and talk through their day, and of course, spending the nights wrapped in each other’s arms. Rosalie really wanted to be loved by someone; but she was old enough to know it couldn’t be forced. As much as she might desire it, she couldn’t make Priya love her.
“Are you feeling well?”
“Yes. I’m fine.”
Priya nodded sharply as if she didn’t believe her. “Shall we go?”
“Yes.” Together they walked outside, an
d Rosalie blinked as Priya’s car sat waiting in the driveway with another man standing beside it. He must the butler’s son, or another close relative, they had the same build, same facial features with straight nose and the younger man had a similar calm expression in his brown eyes as the butler. He also had the same beard, although with less grey, than the butler, and Rosalie wondered if it were part of the uniform that the Howick’s insisted on. Well, it wouldn’t be the oddest request by a rich family for their staff. She’d seen all sorts of things when visiting Sanderson’s clients.
“Thank you, Sharma Junior. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” Priya had used the same name for the butler and Rosalie bit her lip to hold back a smile. She was correct; they were related and given the use of Junior, the younger man must be the butler’s son. Rosalie had never found men particularly attractive, and she ignored most men, but this father-son pair had such care in their eyes in the way they looked after Priya. She was more than a job to them. No wonder Rosalie noticed them and connected them before she knew they also shared a surname.
Mr Sharma Junior held open the car door on the passenger seat, and Priya stepped inside. She slid across the seat to sit behind the steering wheel, then waved for Rosalie to join her. Mr Sharma Junior closed the door, then cranked the handle at the front of the car. The car started with a splutter then a roar. Priya waved her gloved hand to Mr Sharma who stood up and stepped to the side. He waved back, and Priya drove down the driveway. She guided the motor vehicle out onto the road, settling between the other assorted vehicles. Since the war, more motorised vehicles fought for road space among horse drawn carts and trams, while some people rode motorcycles. Rosalie would never risk her person on such a machine; they had all the risks of riding a horse but with more speed and less sense. A horse could use its own balance and ability to get out of an accident. On a motorcycle, the rider was at the mercy of the machine and physics. They were incredibly popular during the war as a way to get messages between various parts of the army and many returned soldiers preferred them as a way to get through London traffic quickly. Rosalie had a client who had manufactured them during the war, and they were one of the few businesses expanding in this tricky post-war economic climate. She’d initially had grave fears for the future of Carlingford Enterprises. Yes they’d made incredible riches as ship builders during the war; but now the war was over, and ships weren’t in such high demand anymore.
“You are very good at this.” Rosalie wasn’t surprised at Priya’s competence, just delighted in it.
“I can teach you if you want.”
Rosalie held her breath for a moment, then slowly exhaled. “I think I would like that. Who taught you?”
“Uncle Will, my mother’s brother. He collects cars and he taught both Ashwin and myself to drive.”
“It’s very progressive to teach you as well.”
Priya winked. “Mother has set the standard for our family. Whatever the men learn, so does everyone. Why on earth should I miss out simply because I’m not a man?”
“You won’t get any argument from me.” Rosalie’s face warmed to match the growing heat between her legs. Watching Priya do something with confidence was incredibly lust inspiring. She wanted to kiss Priya and tell her how wonderful she was. She wanted to gush over her and then when they were relaxed, she wanted to congratulate her on her relationship with her staff. Mr and Mrs Walsh were friendly and yet, Rosalie had never told them the truth about her. Would they stay on and do for her once they knew about Priya? She’d never had anyone stay before, and this would be the second night in succession.
The car stopped and so did the engine noise.
“We are here. Shall I park in the mews, or will I be in the way?”
“Didn’t you park here last night?”
“No. On the street. I would prefer for the car to be under shelter though. It is going to rain tonight.”
“I will ask Mr Walsh for the best option.” She leaned out of the car and opened the door.
“There is a handle on the inside too.”
“Oh. I didn’t realise.” Rosalie had simply copied what Sharma Junior had done.
“It’s not an issue, just the inside handle is somewhat easier to operate.”
Rosalie nodded, and stepped out of the car before she had to further show any lack of knowledge. She turned back to Priya with a rueful grin. “Perhaps I will take that lesson in how to operate the motor vehicle.” The solution was simple; all she had to do was learn how the car worked and she wouldn’t need to feel this uncertainty.
“I would love to teach you, but not in London. We’d have to go out to the country where there is space to make mistakes without them becoming accidents.”
“Have I ever told you how arousing your logic is?”
Priya spluttered and Rosalie’s torso warmed all the way through. Priya opened her mouth, then closed it again.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that out here.”
“We have to be careful.” They spoke at the same time.
Rosalie nodded contritely. “We do. I will enquire about the car.” She fled up the stairs to Mr and Mrs Walsh’s front door and tapped gently.
“Yes?”
“Hello.”
“Miss Sanderson. What can we do for you?”
“My friend has driven me home and will be staying for dinner. Can you please get the guest room ready? And is there a place where Miss Howick can park her motor vehicle out of rain?”
“Let me grab Mr Walsh and we will arrange everything.”
“Thank you.” Rosalie forced herself not to charge down the stairs towards Priya, and the anticipation of another night together.
Chapter 17
Rosalie woke up with her arm slung over Priya’s waist. By the time they’d dealt with the car and eaten a simple dinner, Priya had yawned several times. Rosalie had tucked her into bed and kissed her on the forehead, where she’d promptly fallen asleep with a soft snore. Once again, she had spent the evening on her couch, drinking a nip of whiskey alone, with papers covering her coffee table. She’d switched off the lights and slid into bed, careful not to disturb Priya.
The idea of disturbing Priya took on a fresh light in the warm snuggle of morning. They’d kissed in passion, as a seduction, with desperate need, on various occasions now. On the one occasion, Rosalie had woken to Priya’s presence in her bed, she’d leaped out before she could indulge her senses and that decision had led to an awkward discussion where it was obvious Priya wasn’t awake properly. Unformed thoughts had resulted in a sloppy banter and the prickles of potential hurt as Rosalie pushed for more and Priya tried to hit the pause button.
Priya shifted slightly, her shoulder blade sliding against Rosalie’s breast, and Rosalie realised she’d tensed her arm, clinging too tightly to Priya’s sleeping form. She breathed in and out, using each intake of air to ease the tension in her limbs. A soft moan muffled against the pillow. Rosalie held her breath; had she woken Priya?
“Good morning.” Priya laid her hand across Rosalie’s and squeezed gently.
“Morning. Are you awake?”
“Not really.” Priya mumbled, then wriggled her hips closer to Rosalie. Heat bloomed between her legs and her arm tightened around Priya’s waist again. “This is nice.”
“It is?”
Priya’s answer was to push Rosalie’s hand lower, down her soft stomach and through her curls to the hot, slickness of her sex. Rosalie shuddered and let Priya guide her hand. She stretched against Priya’s spine, using her height to nuzzle against Priya’s neck, kissing her skin, tasting her, as Priya pushed Rosalie’s finger.
“Please.”
Rosalie took Priya’s plea and slid her finger inside Priya’s hot cunny. Priya arched her back, her round bottom pushing against Rosalie’s own curls and her shoulders digging into Rosalie’s breasts in the most delicious way. It was easy to push her palm against Priya’s quim and move her hand in time with the rocking of Priya’s hips. Her soft sounds,
moans and groans, filled the room. Rosalie sucked the back of Priya’s neck, hard, to keep from making her own desperate noises. With her other hand, she pushed it between them to rub her own quim.
“Rosalie.” Priya cried out, clutching Rosalie’s hand tight as she bucked and pushed against the way Rosalie slid her fingers in and out of Priya’s sweet sex. The blankets were too hot, but she didn’t care, needing to feel Priya as her mouth cried out over and over with the sweetest sounds. A needy, breathy whimper that came whenever their hands pushed against the bundle of nerves hidden by Priya’s curls. Rosalie pinched her own quim as Priya squirmed with sweaty skin sliding against Rosalie’s body.
“Now, please.” Priya released Rosalie’s hand and reached back over her head to try and grip Rosalie’s head. The position stretched Priya out, and Rosalie licked the back of Priya’s ear as she used her thumb to strum Priya’s quim. Priya tightened around Rosalie’s fingers and came hard. As her shudders slowed, Priya rolled in Rosalie’s arms and kissed her on the mouth, smothering her thanks. The change in position meant her hands slipped away from Priya’s heat and she wriggled so she could wrap her arms around Priya’s lower back and pull her tight against her.
“I could kiss you all morning.”
“I’d like that.” Priya nipped at her bottom lip, and Rosalie’s body jerked tight against Priya. Priya spread her legs, and Rosalie slipped her thigh between, not once breaking the kiss that bound them together. Bound. Rosalie cursed her dramatic need for Priya, for love and acceptance.
“What’s the matter?” Priya pulled her head backwards, long black hair tangled on the pillow, and touched Rosalie’s chin.
“Nothing. This is amazing.”
“It is.” Priya traced her hand down Rosalie’s throat, leaving behind a trail of heat on her skin, like the sparks created when flint rubbed against metal. Priya stoked the fire, kissing her with long strokes of her tongue and little scrapes of teeth, until Rosalie couldn’t think anymore. She let herself fall into the moment, already primed and ready, and when Priya cupped her breast and pinched her nipple, she came with a loud cry. Oh. She hadn’t expected that; pleasure flooding her veins so quickly. Her hands clutched at Priya who teased and taunted her with her mouth, with her hands on her nipples, and best of all, by rubbing herself against Rosalie’s thigh. Rosalie could smell the delicious perfume of Priya’s sex, imagined it slicked all over her skin, and she trembled until she sobbed into Priya’s kiss.
