The Muse

by Raine Miller

  “Yes. Thank you, Mr. Gravelle. It has been a very busy time with preparing for the wedding and the diversions of London. I fear it shall be quite a drear winter, now all of the doings will be at an end. I will miss Imogene dreadfully when she is gone.”

  “Perhaps you will be soon for a visit to Gavandon, Miss Wilton?” Gravelle suggested with a charming smile. Imogene was not unaware of Mr. Gravelle’s very watchful interest in her cousin and wondered what Cari thought of him. She would have to ask her later.

  Imogene replied, “In response to your suggestion, I hope Cari may be able to join us in the spring at Gavandon. We are working to arrange it. Are you at home in Warwickshire, Mr. Gravelle?”

  “Yes. Kelldale Park is but three miles from Gavandon. I split the year between there and Town. I daresay we will all cross paths again soon when we are north.”

  Graham spoke up, “True that, Gravelle. We must make it so.”

  Imogene loved seeing Graham with his friends and losing some of his reserve. He was smiling more now and that pleased her too. She hoped his apparent happiness was because of her.

  She wanted to be the reason.

  NINE

  And soft adorings from their loves receive

  Upon the honeyed middle of the night.

  John Keats ~ ‘The Eve of St .Agnes’, 1820

  ST. MARTIN-in-the-Fields’ shining whiteness was a beacon today—accepting and confirming the vows of the couple inside, hearing their promise to love, honor, cherish, protect and obey. Graham was in awe of the experience. When he knelt beside Imogene and the priest put their hands together, covered them with his own, and spoke the words, Graham knew them…truly.

  As Imogene signed her maiden name for the last time on the marriage document, he finally allowed himself to indulge in a sliver of relief. She now belonged to him lawfully and spiritually. Until death chose to part them in this earthly life.

  They stood on the steps and took their moment together while the trilling bells of St. Martin’s went ringing out into the city of London.

  THE man watched from across the street, knowing he must not be seen. He hung in the shadow, but still had a clear view of them. The bride was lovely, and what do you know? Very familiar in her looks. God! He thought this might work out even better than he had imagined, cheered that the satisfaction of getting what he deserved was going to be made all the sweeter for the sport in it. He licked his lips as he slithered down into the bowels of the old metropolis. Thinking the same thought over and over, as he made his way, “I have you over a barrel. One way or another, you’re going to give me what I want.”

  A wedding breakfast at Brentwood followed the ceremony at St. Martin’s, although it was well past noon before it got underway.

  Graham admired his wife in her elegant wedding clothes. The dress was done in ivory satin with bold, vertical stripes in blue-grey, a faux waistcoat bodice and a long jacket with a slight train. Her hair was up with some of it left to tumble down her back, and she wore the magnificent pearl choker from her mother she’d worn to the ball the night they’d met. Utterly mouthwatering.

  It took some time to say their goodbyes to their many guests. He sensed Imogene growing a bit emotional saying farewell to her family, especially Cariss, but they parted with promises of a visit in spring. She gave a special farewell to her friend Jocelyn Charleston, both agreeing to write and hoping to see each other again when Jocelyn might come to her sister Mina at Everfell.

  Gravelle was the last to leave, and it was late in the afternoon when all had departed.

  “They have all gone. I think Colin is still about, but I imagine he’ll make himself scarce.” He’d bloody better be scarce. “We’ll not see him again before he leaves. We are finally alone, Mrs. Everley.” He pulled her into his arms and linked his hands at her back, letting the full flush of her against his body wash over him.

  “I love for you to call me Mrs. Everley. I know we can only say it when we are alone together, but I do love the sound of it.”

  “What? You don’t wish to be called Lady Rothvale? You’ve earned it. You are a baroness now. I’ll have to call you Lady Rothvale sometimes. In any case, you must accustom yourself to it for that is what everyone else will call you. There’s nothing for it. Sorry, chérie.” He grinned down at her.

  “I know, and it is an honor, but I love ‘missus’ when you say it to me,” she said, while smoothing over the lapel of his new blue-grey jacket made to match the colour of the stripes in her dress to perfection.

  “Well, I’ll be sure to say it to you all of the time then.” He glanced down at her, her eyes focusing intently on his jacket lapel until it lost her consideration, replaced by his pocket handkerchief for some fidgeting attentions. “I think Mr. Gravelle was quite taken with Cariss. He stared at her ever so much.” She finally lifted her eyes up to meet his.

  Graham would say his new bride was a bit nervous if he had to guess, but he supposed it was natural for her to feel that way. So, he forced a calm response and just held her loosely, content to just have her alone with him. “Well, your cousin Cariss is lovely despite being so young, and he could not do better than her, but she might do better than him,” he said with a smirk. “No, I jest. For all of Gravelle’s triviality, he is solid loyal—a good man. Knows horses better than anyone and a very successful man of business—a sharp fencer too. They could be well matched I suppose,” Graham said thoughtfully as he pondered the possibility of the two together.

  “Can we stay like this forever? It has been so very difficult to look at you all day and not be able to touch you.”

  Her comment got his attention as well as his cock’s.

  “Really? I cannot imagine whatever you mean, chérie.”

  She frowned at his teasing, her luscious bottom lip jutting out a little.

  “All right, you’ve caught me in an enormous lie, Mrs. Everley. I thought I would die if they did not all leave this house.”

  Her frown transformed into a beautiful smile, and he couldn’t wait anymore to have a little taste of his bride.

  He kissed her first, softly and slowly, a finger under her chin, holding her to his lips before moving back to assess her from head to toe. “You are always beautiful to me, but today you are beyond description, and this dress—quite remarkable in colour and design, very modern. I know there will be mention of you and your dress in the columns tomorrow. I shall clip it out and save it for a keepsake. You choose the loveliest clothes. I have always thought so. Such a vision today when your uncle walked you into the church.”

  “You were my vision today, Graham. You were…ah…very handsome, as you always are.” She blushed up at him. “I was nervous at first but as soon as I could see your eyes upon me, I felt a calmness wrap ’round me and I knew everything would be well.”

  He brought her back into his arms and held her, saying nothing, preferring to simply indulge in his favourite activity of looking at her and close enough to touch. In truth, he was trying to bend his mind around the fact she was now his wife.

  Graham made a decision about how their evening would progress.

  “I must write some letters of correspondence. Would you like to join me in the study? Maybe you could write in your journal for a time? Mark the occasion?”

  “All right. I’ll just go and get my journal, and meet you in your study.”

  He watched her go, unable to tell from her reply what her thoughts were on his suggestion. Christ! It’s only four o’clock in the afternoon. I cannot just carry her upstairs and bed her right now. No. I am not doing that. I want everything to be perfect.

  Graham stood when she returned to his study, leading her to a writing table he had situated just across from his desk. “If you sit here, I may be able to look at you whenever I wish and I will be very, very content.”

  “It is your intention to work on your correspondence or to look at me?”

  “Both. But since it is the first time I have tried it, I am not sure of how successful I will
be,” he said, leaning down to kiss her on the temple.

  He helped her get settled first, then went to his own desk and sat down to write. Graham had very strong self-control. It was a reflex, honed by his life experiences. When he made a decision, he almost always carried it through, avoiding distraction by focusing unwavering concentration on the task at hand. But today was different. He could look at her and control himself, but the mental images of the coming night, beginning to bombard his thoughts, were more difficult to suppress.

  He wondered if Imogene had similar thoughts as him. Probably not, he decided. Sitting across from him, she appeared very unfocused, and Graham had to work doubly hard to keep from laughing at her distractibility. She was so utterly charming; he could watch her unendingly and never grow tired.

  Fidgeting and sighing, she rolled her neck over the top of her shoulder, the effect pushing her breasts upward in her bodice.

  This last move of hers was so tempting he actually felt his mouth start to water. Christ Almighty, this utter torture. How am I going to make it through dinner?

  Imogene stood up abruptly.

  Graham leapt up out of his chair, looking inquiringly and trying to ignore the pain at the place where his cock met his balls.

  “I feel so hot, I think I need some water,” she blurted, moving toward the door.

  “Don’t go, chérie. Please stay. I’ll ring for some.” He pulled the cord that rang the bell and went to her, putting his hand to her forehead, and then replacing it with his lips. She seemed to relax instantly at his touch. “You do not feel feverish to me.” You’re hot? I don’t think you can know the true meaning of that. Christ! “Let us sit here while we wait for your refreshment to come.” He led her to a couch and caressed her hand.

  She blinked at him. “I fear I am not in the mood for writing in my journal just now.”

  “No?”

  “Not at all.” She closed her eyes, shrugging one shoulder up to her ear and stretching her neck.

  “What would you wish to do, chérie?” he asked in anticipation, hardly able to stand the vision of her as she stretched, without pouncing on her. Oh, how he wanted to pounce. He wanted to peel that gorgeous dress off her slowly, and touch every inch of her beautiful body. He wanted to kiss her and touch her in places—his thoughts were cut off abruptly by her words.

  “I think I should like to recline here and drink my water and look at you while you write.”

  She is wickedly clever. How did she just do that? How did she turn everything around like that?

  The door opened then and the water was delivered and poured. Imogene relaxed back onto the cushions and took a sip. “You may return to your correspondence, my love; I do not wish to keep you from it.”

  Graham narrowed his eyes a little but did not leave the couch. She took another sip. This time a small drop remained on her lip. She licked it off with her tongue and rubbed her lips together, her eyes resting on him. Graham’s carefully mastered self-control evaporated at that instant and he lunged for her. Water and glass tumbling onto the carpet was of little consequence.

  To either of them.

  Imogene met his kiss with equal passion after an initial squeak of surprise. He needed to feel her touch, even if for a moment. All day they had been looking and looking and now he just needed to feel her. Her hands went immediately into his hair. His hands went to her waist and pushed up slowly, smoothing over every inch of her bodice, caressing over her breasts until he reached her collarbone. It felt divine to have his hands on her, covering her, but then he stopped and pulled her up to sitting again.

  Imogene looked unhappy as he drew away. She gave her head a small shake as if to clear her thoughts.

  Hell, my cock can give you some thoughts, my beauty.

  “You are very scampish, chérie, distracting me so. I find myself quite unable to resist you.”

  “I am sorry, but I just felt so hot and I could not concentrate on my journal. Should you like me to leave you in peace?”

  “No…no, no.” He shook his head. “Nothing so drastic as that.” He leaned down for a long, soft kiss to which she gave him sweetly.

  “What shall I do, then?” she sighed onto his neck.

  “I think the original plan is sound. I’ll get you a new glass of water—sorry for pouncing on you before—and you can rest right here. I will go back to my desk and finish my letters, and you will be a good girl and watch me. Every now and again, I will look up from my writing and we can exchange a lover’s glance. Then, in a while, we shall go into dinner and look at each other some more, over our plates. How does that sound to you?”

  She nodded her head contritely, her eyes wide.

  You’ll never know how hard it is for me to write these damn letters right now. I want you so badly. You belong to me now, my sumptuous beauty. I want to be with you, upstairs in my bed. I want to be making love to you all night long. And I am going to.

  They were true to their words.

  Graham returned to his writing, and Imogene was content to look at him—for a time. In a short while though, her eyes grew heavy, she listed to one side, and settled into slumber. It was the first time he had ever seen her asleep. She looked so enchanting and peaceful on the couch he was loathe to disturb her. He watched her for a few moments, allowing himself to imagine how she would look when he was making love to her tonight. Now it is my turn to be wicked. Get some rest, my love. You are going to need it…for later.

  IMOGENE woke to the most delectable feeling of Graham kissing her neck and speaking softly. “Wake-up, my beauty; time to go down to dinner. You’ve had a sleep.”

  “Mmm…what? Oh, did I? I am so sorry, how careless of me. Did you get your letters done?”

  “What are you sorry for? You were obviously fatigued and needed to rest. I quite enjoyed the view of you, and yes, my correspondence is complete for now.”

  Imogene sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to collect her wits. “I must go and refresh myself. I’ll meet you at the dining room in ten minutes?” She moved to sit up on the couch, and Graham immediately offered assistance in rising. She tried to gauge his feelings at the moment, sensing he might be trying to put her at ease, giving her some space.

  “I’ll await you there…and you are beautiful in your sleep, Imogene.” He held her fingers and kissed the fingertips.

  His words made her blush. He is teasing me a little about falling asleep. He imagines sleeping with me tonight, I think. “Thank you.”

  “Oh, before I forget, your things have been moved into the suite—the one that adjoins to mine.”

  She nodded, understanding his meaning clearly. I am such an inconsistency of emotions right now. Part nervous and part desperate for him to touch me. He was so…so unwavering and determined when he touched me on the couch. He had the look of a pouncing cat…and I was the mouse!

  WHEN she arrived at the dining room, Graham stood and held out his hand. He seated her at her place, at the end of the side of the table. He moved to his place opposite of her, at the same end.

  “I like our seating arrangement,” she told him.

  “Yes, chérie, especially for our first dinner alone together I don’t want you miles away. I can feast my eyes upon you and upon my dinner at the same time.”

  “How do you do that? I find it very distracting to look at you and continue with my tasks at hand.”

  “Practice, chérie. Remember, I have had many more years to practice than you have,” he said, winking saucily.

  Dinner proceeded slowly in Imogene’s opinion.

  “How was your sleep? You looked like Sleeping Beauty from the fairy tale.”

  “It was…restful.”

  “And how do you find your dinner?”

  “I find it…perfectly…adequate.”

  “I cannot help but notice that you are not eating very much. More like you are doing battle, stabbing and poking at it. I assure you it is quite dead,” he joked. “Are you not hungry?”

  �
�Not very, not for…food.” She lifted her eyes, looking boldly.

  “What are you hungry for?” His breath seemed to leave him.

  She whispered, “Your touch. I want you to hold me. I need to feel your arms around me.”

  Graham rose instantly from the chair, pulling her up, enfolding her into his arms. “Is this better?”

  “Yes.” She leaned into him. “I’ve only felt at peace today when you have held me. I’ve found this afternoon to be a very tiresome one, indeed.”

  “I know you have, Imogene, and you have born it very bravely, my darling.” His hand came to her hair and face. “Thank you for staying with me today in the study while I had to write my letters. It was heaven having you close. Being selfish, I could not bear for you to leave my side.”

  “But I fell asleep. I am not very good at this. I fear I shall be a disappointment to you,” she trailed off.

  “Nonsense. How could you ever be a disappointment to me? You needed the rest, and I loved watching you sleep, I’ve already told you.” He kissed her on the forehead and then pulled back to focus on her eyes.

  The look he gave her was bold and burning.

  It is time.

  “Mrs. Everley, I should like to retire for the evening.” He leaned down, whispering, “Are you of the same mind?”

  Unable to voice a sound, Imogene nodded her answer to him. Heart thudding and mind racing, she knew both anxiety and relief in the same moment. It’s going to happen now. I could see it in his eyes—what Aunt Wilton talked to me about…

  “I’LL leave you to your privacy, chérie.” Graham caressed her hand, turned her palm up and kissed it. “An hour then? I shall think of nothing but you.”

  “An hour will be perfect,” she managed to answer.

  He backed away, but did not release her hand right away. He continued stepping backward until his arm stretched out all the way and their hands finally separated, falling apart. As a final gesture, he blew a little kiss.