by Win Hollows
"L-lord-"
"Rem. Call me Rem," he admonished, gently squeezing her side with one of his large hands.
"Rem." His name came easily, and seemed right somehow.
"Yes?" His voice rumbled pleasantly in her ear.
"I can't...I don't know what to do," she admitted unsteadily. “Wouldn’t you rather have someone who knew what to do? Someone like…Mina?” She held her breath, hoping he didn’t have feelings for the sensual gypsy woman.
He chuckled deeply. “Why is it you can’t understand?” He rumbled, nipping her earlobe with his teeth. “I want you more than anyone I’ve ever met. And Mina… Mina is like a sister to me. I would do nearly anything for her, but never this.”
Laura exhaled, a giddy pressure building in her chest.
His warm hands applied pressure to her midsection, bringing her tighter against his chest. "If you don’t know what to do, I'll teach you, little one."
Laura's mind was entrapped firmly in a haze of need, and there was nothing she wanted more than for him to teach her of the things he hinted at. She let out the breath she was holding and let herself lean back against his solid warmth, relishing the hardness of his chest and the considerable width of his shoulders.
"Would you like that, Laura? I'll show you all sorts of wonderful things. I can make you feel so good in my arms," he tantalized her, his voice steeped in knowledge that Laura ached to know too. "All you have to do is say 'yes.'"
Laura gulped. She knew she shouldn't, couldn't give into this madness, and yet, her entire body was screaming, Yes! Please! Now! Alarm bells of doubt and caution chimed in the back of her mind, but she was too far gone, too enveloped in the world of sensation he had created around her. Her throat was tight with nervousness, and she couldn't get anything past the lump for some time. Finally, clenching his hands around her, she whispered hoarsely, "Yes."
Rothstone sucked in a harsh breath and then let it out very slowly. He didn't move for a moment, but then his hands began to lift their pressure from around her stomach and slide backwards along her ribcage. They lingered on the smooth skin of her exposed back, tracing a delicate design that Laura could not interpret. She didn't know what he was doing, but it felt incredible.
That is, it did until she could feel him fumbling with the edges of her gown, tugging them together at the top. "What are you doing?" she asked abruptly as he secured the clasp. She didn't know much about thing sort of thing, but shouldn't he be removing more of her clothes now?
"Putting your dress to rights," he informed her, his voice much less husky than it had been a moment before.
Laura blinked, wondering what in the world was going on. Her head had started to clear, the fussiness of desire fading somewhat. "But...why?" She turned around to face him, her eyebrows drawn down in confusion. Was there something he was going to do that required her dress being in place? That didn't seem like near as much fun as the alternative, but what did she know?
"I have a lot of planning to do in a short time." He smiled, his eyes alight with a peculiar warmth.
Laura's confusion grew as she took in his pleased expression. "Planning?"
"Yes, Miss Parrington. If the announcement is to go out in tomorrow's papers, I will have to be quick about it."
Her eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?" she demanded, planting her hands on her hips. Her voice revealed the frustration she felt at having been too quickly pulled out of her cloud of lust.
"Our engagement, of course," said as if to a child, his hands coming up to stroke her collarbone. He was still wearing that infuriating smile, the one she didn't quite know what to make of.
"What?" Laura stepped back. "Who said anything about being engaged?" she asked in horror.
Rothstone looked her straight in the eyes. "You said yes, remember?"
Laura spluttered, "I-I said yes to-to, you know, whatever was going on a moment ago, but not that!" she waved her arms in outrage. As soon as she said it, she knew she sounded like a lady of the lowest character, and her cheeks turned red.
Eyes that seemed black as night in the shadows bore into hers. His voice was utterly calm and patient as he stepped toward her and put his fingertips gently on the bloom of her hips. Laura put her hands on his to brush them away, but she couldn't make herself push him back. "If you want what I can give you," he told her, pausing to let his eyes linger on her mouth. She sucked in as his fingers dug into her sides, the tips pressing against where her sensitive hip bones were. He then looked back up directly into her own wide eyes. "-you have to marry me."
The instant he said it, her heart began a campaign to beat itself right out of her chest. She swallowed the cotton out of her mouth and licked her dry lips. "I was right," she said shakily. "You are insane. You belong in Bedlam, Rothstone."
He chuckled and moved his hand upwards to let it rest on her upper chest. "Do you know how I know you want it as much as I do?"
"Not in the least." She tried to pull his hand away, but he kept it there with his superior strength.
"Because your heart is flying like a hummingbird. And that tells me you are afraid of what you want, little one. You want it so much that you're afraid you might give into it, and that could be disastrous." His hands massaged the velvet covering her hips.
As he spoke them, Laura knew the words were true. She would rather sleep on a bed of nails tonight than admit it to him, however. "You have no idea what you're talking about." Her voice sounded false and snooty, even to her.
He chuckled, the sounds coming from low in his throat. "Don't I?" He leaned in close to her, pressing his torso along the entire length of hers.
She felt his hardness press into her stomach, the unfamiliar pressure alarming. Heart pounding in her throat, she couldn't meet his eyes. Her cheeks were turning a wild red, the telling heat adding to her discomfort. She didn't know what to do with her hands, but she could feel his fingers creeping up her ribcage to brush the underside of her breasts. She jumped at the ticklish feel of his thumb causing ripples of awareness through her abdomen. Eventually, she placed her hands on his chest, partly because she didn't know where else to put them, and partly because she wanted to feel the firm expanse of muscle that spread across it.
"Will you let me kiss you again?" he asked, his voice lowered to a rough whisper.
Sometime in the last few moments, as his body had molded to hers and his hands began to touch her, her brain had stopped functioning. She could only nod as his mouth closed the distance between them, pressing an almost reverent kiss on her lips.
Before long, however, Rothstone couldn't seem to keep the kiss a chaste one, and he pressed harder, his tongue seeking entrance. Laura didn't even begin to think of stopping him, her mind a blank slate on which he wrote with flicks and strokes of his tongue on her own. Her back was against the cold, paneled wall, his hands gripping her small ribcage with almost crushing force, as if he wanted to mold her, shape her into some wanton being for his own pleasure.
But it was Laura who was experiencing the most wonderful, dark feeling she had never thought could exist while he delved into her mouth over and over, tangling their tongues and forcing her lips to cling to his in utter surrender. She could not come up from this, could not break the surface of these unknown waters in which she was submerged. He had her exactly where he wanted her, and she knew it.
He let out a small throaty sound into her mouth and took her lower lip between his teeth, biting down softly. Laura liked the tiny pinch of pain that his teeth elicited from her lips, his animalistic passion only heightening the heady pleasure swirling in her veins. He skimmed his hands down her torso, landing on her hips again and rubbed his lip on hers as if to soothe the hurt, but she didn't need it. She drew him back into her warm mouth, wanting to feel his tongue wrap around the tip of hers. He obliged her, letting himself wring more intensity from their melding.
Laura knew she never wanted this to end. She could feel herself changing into another person, one that was so frenzied sh
e didn't care what he did with her, as long as he didn't stop. The ache in her lower belly became more acute as she pressed herself further against him, welcoming the friction of his hips against her own. His body seemed to battle for more contact with hers, pinning her more firmly between himself and the wall. One knee edged between her legs, forcing them to part, but the motion seemed right. It allowed him to come even closer, the firm lines of him grinding into her softness with a deep pressure that radiated satisfying surges of pleasure outward. Every second was thrilling, the way he knew exactly where to go, how to touch, and how to make her desperate to go deeper with him into these unknown waters.
Rothstone abruptly shoved himself back from her, his breaths coming in ragged bursts. He curled his hands in on themselves to still the tremors that gave his true condition away.
Laura immediately felt bereft, cold and empty without his weight against her.
Though the room was dark, his eyes glowed with a liquid feverishness that gave her a brief stab of satisfaction at knowing he was almost as far gone as she.
Almost.
But he had shown her again just show weak she was when it came to him. He had proved his point. She wanted him, all of him, and she didn't see how she could ever not want this man now that she knew how he could drag her down into this spiral of heavy desire with just a simple touch.
Anger at his callous manipulation bubbled up in her chest. She turned away with a cry that was half anguished growl, not wanting to look at his face. She was disgusted with him, but also with herself for letting him take control of her so easily.
"Laura-"
"Don't!" She was shaking, she was so angry, or regretful, or whatever it was, it suddenly felt like the world was collapsing into a snarled mess of things too big to understand. Covering her face with her hands, she struggled to make sense of what had just happened. What was he about? All of a sudden, he had mentioned marriage. Marriage! Was that how it worked? Just like that? People kissed, and then they decided it was time to marry?
"Laura, please, just look at me," Rothstone took a step closer to her.
She took in a shuddering breath and turned towards him, lowering her hands into fists at her sides. "So? Should we discuss what to name our children now? What colors our drawing room will be?"
"No, I-" He reached for her, but she took a step back, shaking her head. He dropped his hands and stood still in front of her, the shadows from the candlelight flickering over his face. "I only wanted to show you what it could be like for us."
Laura didn't know how to reply. He had shown her, quite thoroughly. And was right about her. She did want it, all that he offered, more than she could admit. "I have to get back," she blurted, and then realized that was very true. How long had she been gone from Georgiana's presence? Five minutes? Twenty? She honestly didn't know how long they had been here in this room, doing things for which she would be ostracized from society if anyone knew.
He stared at her a moment more, and then nodded. "I will wait a few minutes before leaving," he said flatly, breaking eye contact.
A tightening in her chest almost made Laura say something else, anything, to alleviate the emotionless look from his face. But what was there to say? So she nodded and brushed past him, peering into the hallway before hurrying out into it and back to the foyer of the Opera house, dress intact, as if nothing had happened at all.
Chapter 6
Remington brought the axe down with all the force he possessed, the jarring impact sending welcome shudders of tension through his shoulders. The wood split open with a satisfying crack, and he pushed aside the pieces to make room for another block. Pausing to wipe his face on his white linen sleeve, he looked up at the serene landscape spread out in front of him.
Windmere, one of his family's many properties, was always a relaxing place to come to when he wanted to escape from London for a day or two. It was only an hour’s ride from the bustling city, and yet the hurried atmosphere seemed far behind him here. The ancestral family manor sat in a small, secluded valley with meadows stretching all around until the forest began. With only a skeleton staff here to man the place while his parents were in London and no other residences for miles, Rem felt like he could be alone without having to maintain a polite facade while his insides were roiling.
Having already spent two days there, riding his horse into a lather, mucking out the stables himself (to the bewilderment of the stable boy), and roaming around the woods with his bow, shooting at anything he could find, he had run out of things to do to avoid the problem at hand.
He heaved the axe up again and swung it downward, leaving it in the large, round cutting block. Enough was enough, he supposed. He had been at it for almost three hours today, chopping wood until his arms felt like lead and his muscles ached. It was a good ache, though, for it gave him a satisfaction that he couldn't seem to feel in life otherwise, at the moment.
His plan to seduce Laura into wanting to marry him had backfired. Or worked a little too well; he wasn't sure. He was furious with himself for thinking that it was going to be so easy. That she would be so easily won. In his mind, everything had been going splendidly. She seemed to revel in his touch, and he could have sworn that if he had lost what control he had kept during the interaction, she would have let him do whatever he wanted with her. Perhaps he should have known she was too innocent to understand what was between them. She had probably never even been kissed before that night in the garden. He had moved quickly with her after that, and if he was honest, it had been to overwhelm her, to wrap her up so tightly in desire for him that she couldn't say no.
But she had.
Well, she didn't seem too happy with the prospect of becoming engaged anyways. Rem began walking towards the back door of the house, the sweat on his torso cooling him in the afternoon breeze. It was time to admit that mayhap she wasn't going to be kissed into submission, which was very disappointing, in Rem's opinion. He knew she was a woman whose sensuality simmered just below the surface, waiting to be fanned into flame. She was afraid of it though, afraid of what he made her feel. Perhaps she was afraid that his desire would for her would cool if she gave in. Was she simply playing hard to get?
No, she wasn't manipulative enough for that. She had been genuinely herself every moment he had been with her. It was one of the reasons he was so attracted to her.
Maybe she feared he was only toying with her, only wanted her for her physical attributes. Rem blinked as he opened the door and slipped inside, the darkness of the interior making light dance in front of his eyes from being in the bright sunlight so long. He pondered it while tromping up the stairs to the room he usually stayed in. It was entirely possible that his behavior toward her could be taken as a narrowly gauged interest in her sexuality alone. He had told her straight out that he wanted to marry her, but women were funny like that. Sometimes it didn't matter if you said something a million times, once they had formed an opinion, they would cling to it like a sailor in a storm clings to the remnants of a lost ship. Remington sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his Hessian boots, sighing as his feet felt able to breathe again.
He would have to show her then. He would show her beyond any doubt that he didn't just want her for her angelic face, or her ample breasts, or the way her hips ground into him when she was kissing him... He groaned, feeling himself stir at the thought of their last encounter. Alright, so maybe he did want her for those things, but it wasn't only that. She was beautiful in so many other ways. Her wit, her honesty, her defiant streak that caused her to go off in the middle of a ball to use an illegal gadget in the darkness. Rem smiled, thinking of the way she had bustled around, adjusting her camera in his mother's conservatory, completely oblivious to the impropriety of it.
He would show her that he wanted that side of her as well. He wanted to know every part of her, the good and the bad, the charming and the annoying. It didn't make sense, even to him. Why would he want to know annoying things about someone? But he did. He wa
nted to fuss and fight with her, and then make up later by kissing her senseless. He wanted her smiles and her frowns and her tears. He wanted to see her reaction to little things, the wind blowing through the trees in fall, the sound of the ocean late at night, the odd way his family had of celebrating Christmas. All these kinds of moments he could picture with absolute clarity. As long as she was by his side, he knew that life would be wonderful, constantly interesting.
Rem had no other choice, really. He would do whatever it took to have her. In his home, his bed, his heart. She was already worming her way into his last, had been for some time. Now he must show her another side of himself, the one that was interested in whatever she was interested in.
"Laura Parrington," he mumbled to himself. "Try and resist me after tomorrow. You don't stand a chance." And with that, he began to pack his things for the ride into London.
After the incident at the Opera, Laura had been inclined to accept every invitation that came her way in an attempt to stamp out the memory from her mind. But three balls, two dinner parties, two carriage rides in Hyde Park, an art museum tour, and one musicale later, she was ready to kill the next person who suggested an outing of any kind.
Unfortunately, the next person happened to be her mother. After asking Laura if she wanted to go Lady Mortimer's poetry reading that night, Laura had snapped, listing all of the reasons why she would rather die a horribly painful death than attend a poetry reading by insipid girls who didn't know a firefly from the moon.
Lady Parrington had merely raised a brow and quirked her lips, marching away from Laura's room while trying to keep from smiling. Obviously, her daughter had had enough socializing the last few days. Perhaps it was best if Laura chose her own activities for a bit. The girl wasn't used to so many people demanding her time, wanting polite smiles and gossipy conversation and perfect coiffures to make note of. It was beginning to take its toll. Astoria hoped that whomever her daughter decided to marry, he would allow her to be herself, and that he would enjoy her quirks, antisocial behavior and all.
