Day's Patience
Page 21
She threw both hands around his neck and pressed her face to his cheek. “Don’t say no. Please, Grayson. Don’t turn me away.”
His hand travelled up her spine and rested on her back, but to press her closer or push her away?
“Do you know what you ask of me, your former doctor and friend?”
“I am no longer your patient, and we can set aside the charade of being brother and sister. Are we not just a man and a woman who desire each other? My body has rediscovered desire and I would share it with you. Or should I seek out a city physician with a machine to cure my hysteria?”
Marjory had cackled as she read the articles out loud to Lettie, describing how doctors sought to cure women of their desires with puffing mechanical devices. In city consulting rooms, women were brought to orgasm by doctors using scientific means. Doctors did such a brisk business that one, Dr Mortimer Granville, invented a vibrating machine to relieve their aching hands.
Grayson stroked up her back and then pulled her long hair to one side of her neck. “No. There is only one physician you should consult.”
The itch in her palm ignited as hope flared in her body. “If you want me, Grayson, I am here for the taking. But if you truly do not desire me, and only see me as a friend or sister—”
She never finished the sentence. Grayson’s hand buried in her hair and he tugged her head down to him. He kissed her hard, stealing the words with a stroke along her lips from his tongue.
Yes. This was what she wanted. His previous hesitancy was gone. Here was the confident doctor who would deliver her cure. Lettie pressed herself against his chest and leaned into the kiss.
His hand bunched up her robe and then caressed along her bare skin. He drew slow circles on the inside of her thigh that had her gasping when combined with the slide of his lips to hers. His hand inched further up her leg, the patterns becoming a design set in fire as her skin heated under his touch. Then his hand slid between her legs.
Lettie gasped and squirmed on his hand. She tried to think as her mind splintered into fragments. She needed his skin slick against hers. She needed his fingers to press a little harder. Then some thought about doctors making their fortunes with machines and manual stimulation tumbled past.
With trembling hands she worked at the buttons on his shirt. She tugged the last button free and pushed the linen off his shoulders. She huffed in disappointment when he withdrew his hand from between her legs in order to remove his shirt. With the shirt discarded, she could run her hands down his body.
Elementals were smooth where the good doctor had a smattering of tightly curled blond hair over his chest, as she had spied when he tried to save her from the bath. She had taken human lovers before and delighted in the variety of shapes and sizes in which they came. What else was the doctor hiding under his clothes?
The doctor conducted his own examination. He undid the robe and pulled her arms free. Underneath she was naked, and his hands skimmed over her flesh with a gentle flutter, when she wanted him to touch her harder.
“Are you a dream?” he whispered as his eyes widened with hunger. He ran a hand up her body and cupped a full breast.
Yes, Lettie sighed as Grayson adjusted her on his lap until she could feel the bulge in his trousers nudging against her hip.
Lettie pulled his head back to her. She never wanted to stop kissing him. Her tongue explored his mouth and they wrestled until she gasped for breath. Her entire body tingled with life, and every inch of her skin wanted to feel his hands, tongue, or the tickle of his moustache.
With his hand in her hair, Grayson tugged her head backwards. He bent her over his arm and leaned forward to fasten on a breast.
Lettie moaned and buried her hands in his short hair, urging him to take her deeper and nip at her flesh.
“It’s been so long,” she whispered as his teeth scraped her skin. Liquid heat shot to her core and her knees shook. The itch in her palm travelled up her arm until her skin tingled as though some erotic type of nettle was dragged over her body.
Grayson stood with her in his arms and carried her to the bed. Lettie sat on the edge, her fingers seeking the buttons on his trousers, eager to have all of him pressed to her. When she pushed the fabric down, she was delighted to find his shaft as well formed as the rest of him. Not huge, but she was sure he would wield it with an expert touch.
He stepped out of his trousers and paused before her. He was a fine specimen. Not tall and elegant like an undine or sylph, nor with the broad, muscular physique of a gargoyle or salamander. He was well proportioned with muscles delineated by labour. The simple act of staring at him delighted her senses and made her moisten her lips with her tongue.
Lettie scooted up the bed as Grayson knelt on the blankets. She reached for him, but he gave her a wolfish grin and swatted her hands away.
“Do you know how long I have dreamt of this?” he murmured. Then he pushed her knees apart and his head dipped.
Lettie cried out and fell back to the pillows. His moustache grazed the inside of her thigh, and she didn’t know whether to giggle or dissolve into a puddle. As a child she had delighted in the prickly progress of a fat caterpillar that walked over her skin. Grayson’s moustache was a very adult incarnation of that memory.
She curled one hand around a wooden dowel on the bedhead as the doctor lapped at her flesh and attended to her needs. Her other hand clutched at his short hair, keeping him captive between her legs. Her hips bucked off the blanket, but he held her in place. The doctor proved why he had graduated top of his class—he studied her responses to tailor his approach and expertly meet her needs.
Lettie screwed her eyes shut as, with tongue and fingers, Grayson reminded her of all she had missed. Air struggled to reach her lungs. She gasped and cried out. When he pressed into her with his thumb, she reached a peak and plunged off the other side.
Grayson kissed the inside of her thigh and then moved back up her body until he cradled her to him. Their bodies entwined as they kissed and caressed each other. Lettie explored his body with long, slow strokes. She was parched land drinking rain after a forty-year drought. The pleasure he had shown her so far was only the beginning. She wanted more. Each sensation climbed atop another until she could scarce breathe with wanting.
She pushed Grayson to the mattress and then rolled on top of him. The ache in her body became a screaming need as Lettie leaned her scant weight on the doctor’s wrists and held them by his head. He grinned as she rubbed and squirmed against his erection.
“Am I satisfactory, or do you still want to seek a quack with a mechanical device?” he asked.
“I’m not done with you, doctor. This consultation is not over yet,” she replied.
Lettie bit his skin, nipping and sucking at him as he bucked upward. She relished the power and control of the moment. Then she let go of his hands and rose up on her knees.
Grayson grabbed hold of her hips as she eased herself back down. He let out a hiss between clenched lips when, inch by inch, her body took him in.
When they were completely joined, Lettie stilled and leaned back, eyes closed as her starved body savoured the contact. With a gentle rock of her hips, she tipped herself over another shallow crest. A single, long shudder ran through her body. It had been so long. After four decades without sharing physical intimacy, she didn’t want this to end.
Grayson’s fingers curled into her hips and moved with her. He pushed off the bed and sat up, his hands moving higher up her back as he sought her mouth to kiss her again. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, the small coarse hairs a tiny erotic touch that made her moan against his lips. She trusted him as her friend and so gave herself to him completely, holding nothing back.
Her pace increased as need became a frantic note clamouring to be heard. Longing and neglect exploded through her body. Lettie cried out as the wave crashed over her and pulled both of them down to a sweet abyss. She slumped against Grayson, and he fell back to the pillows. Her chest heaved in gasp
s as release continued to ripple through her. He stroked her back in gentle circles and kept her close. At length she relaxed, her bones liquid and her desire sated.
The moon shone through the diminishing rain, and for a moment, Lettie thought their bodies were covered in silver cobwebs. Swoops and swirls were written over their skin in a trail of mercury, but the lines vanished when a cloud passed over the moon.
Grayson rolled her to one side and tucked her along his length. Ever thoughtful, he pulled the blankets up over their bodies, so the sweat on their skin didn’t produce a chill as they cooled off.
Lettie drifted for a while, not asleep but simply relishing the feel of a man’s arms around her. There was something magic in such an embrace that made a woman feel protected from anything outside the window.
When Grayson stirred, they made love again. With the sharp edge taken off Lettie’s need, this time was slow. Murmurs, whispers, and quiet sighs were exchanged as they learned one another’s secrets. Gentle strokes and caresses fed Lettie’s internal fire until she thought she blazed like a salamander.
After they tumbled over the edge, wound around each other, there came a few silent minutes. Before long the doctor’s breathing relaxed and soon he fell asleep. Lettie lay with her head resting on his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. She didn’t want to move. Grayson was a safe harbour, a still ocean that calmed her turbulent mind. Gentle and loving, it seemed he had always been there for her when she needed him most.
Life wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t he be her mate? She would give him everything if she could, including her lifespan. A single drop of despair fell into her heart, like one of Gaia’s tears falling from a stalactite into the vast black pool. She would have centuries alone after he was gone. Was it worth embracing every day they had together, or should she cherish this one night and then set him free?
Grayson was such a fast friend of Jasper’s that Lettie always assumed they were a similar age—approaching three hundred. Yet the doctor had not yet passed his thirtieth year. For an Elemental he would still be considered a child. Even Elijah was older at forty, but to humans her nephew appeared approximately eighteen. Their kind didn’t reach maturity until fifty years old, and only at that point were they declared adults.
With reluctance, Lettie rolled away from his warmth. There was an air of open vulnerability about Grayson as he slept on his back, with one arm still curled around where she had lain. Doctor Grayson Day was a good man, and she was fortunate to have him in her life.
Lettie needed to consult with Samuel. If there was some way to share her lifespan with a human, she would find it. Cor-vitis seed or not, Lettie was going to claim Grayson as her mate.
If he would still have her in the morning.
22
Lettie snuck along the hallway, feeling like a young woman escaping down a vine outside her window for the first time. Blood pounded in her ears and her senses seemed heightened. The sweet waft of jasmine clung to the stones of the house. Above her head, the soft thud of the servants’ stocking-clad feet as they dressed in their attic rooms to start the day. She didn’t want anyone to see her leaving Grayson’s room. Not yet. It was too new and raw.
In her room, she stood on her balcony and watched the last of the storm evaporate with the rising sun. One storm had subsided but another sprang up, this one deep inside her. Thoughts swirled and were hurled first one way and then another, as she tried to unravel the implications of what she had done.
Last night it had seemed simple. Days of brewing desire had demanded satisfaction. She had offered herself to Grayson and he had accepted, showering pleasure upon her that she had almost forgotten existed. As she had drowsed in his arms, she remembered Marjory insisting that she could still love.
A tiny, lost voice deep within her whispered, What if I love Grayson?
Silly of course, since she did love him, as both a brother and friend. Except last night she realised she wanted that love to transform into something deeper. As she worked alongside him the last few weeks, fanciful plans had unfurled in her mind. As Lettie washed wounds and changed bandages, she’d conjured a life where she was the doctor’s help mate in all things—his nurse by day and lover by night.
“What have I done?” she whispered as her hand curled around the iron balustrade.
He never gave any indication that he regarded her as anything other than a sister or friend. Did he take her to his bed last night as a friend or lover? There had been no exchange of words between them, and Victorian men were odd creatures with their double standards. They expected the women they took as wives to be chaste and virginal—two words that had only fleetingly applied to Lettie.
She should never have jested about seeking his professional help to release her hysteria. How could she face him at breakfast if performing the physical act with her was just a prescription for another patient? At least he didn’t charge her for the service.
She should have wooed him. Knowing now what lay in her heart, she should have set about winning his instead of jumping into his arms and tearing his clothes off. Some men wanted to pursue the woman, not be hunted and cornered like a rabbit. Modern men didn’t like wanton women except in their mistresses, and that was a tenuous position.
As she washed and dressed, her mood swung back and forth. One moment joyous that she had a man like Grayson in her life, and the next plunged into despair imagining that he viewed her with a cold detachment. Today her body didn’t want the restraints of corsets and heavy skirts, and instead she donned a light, simple gown of a pale blue cotton with minnows swimming around the hem. The fabric flowed around her legs and was the closest to walking in water that she could muster on land.
As she descended the stairs, she made up her mind that the best course of action was to apologise for being forward and ask if they could begin anew. She would live without his love if he could never feel that way about way her, but life without his friendship and soothing presence wasn’t worth living.
Lettie fidgeted in her chair as she tried to drink her tea and eat her boiled egg.
“Everything all right, love?” Marjory asked.
“Yes. It was just the storm. Heavy rain always makes me agitated.” She tried to dismiss the turmoil inside her that was leaking out.
Grayson appeared in the doorway and Lettie steeled herself. He wore a waistcoat over his buttoned-up shirt. The glint of gold ran along the chain that attached his pocket watch to a button for security. His moustache was smoothed, unlike his hair that seemed tousled.
“Good morning,” she murmured over the rim of her tea cup, wondering if he waxed his moustache. Perhaps he ignored the hair on his head to fuss over that growing under his nose.
He stared at her, a slight frown tugging on his brows. “Good morning.”
“Sleep well with all that noise going on?” Marjory asked.
Grayson’s frown deepened and he glanced at Marjory. “Pardon?”
Marjory selected a piece of toast from the silver rack that held several upright. “The storm. While there was no thunder, that rain fair pounded the house. I thought I would never get to sleep with all that banging going on.”
“Quite. But no, it didn’t bother me in the slightest.” He stood at the buffet, plate in one hand as he selected his cooked breakfast.
Lettie stared at her toast as he took a seat opposite her. If she looked up now, she would moon over him like a lovesick calf. She couldn’t hurl herself across the breakfast table declaring her undying love. That would send the quiet doctor fleeing like a pheasant flushed from the undergrowth. She needed to compose herself and enquire if they had a future together in a quiet, rational tone.
At that moment Samuel appeared in the doorway. A serious expression marred his face, and he held a slim envelope between thumb and forefinger as though it might bite.
“This was just delivered for you, Lettie.” He dropped it on the table next to her and breathed an audible sigh at being free of such a burden.
Byron Ocram.
She slid her knife under the wax and broke the seal. The letter was a scant two lines that made ice water slither down her spine.
When she glanced up, she met Samuel’s worried gaze. “Apparently I have had sufficient time and Byron would know my answer today. Am I his willing supplicant or enemy?”
“The last grains of sand run through the hourglass, but we still don’t have the answers we need.” The Warder closed his fist, perhaps imagining his fingers wrapped around a Soarer’s throat as his flesh turned to granite and then back again when he relaxed his grip.
“We are so close,” Lettie whispered. “If only there was a way to extract a little more time from him.”
She glanced to Grayson, who regarded her with an odd light in his eyes. She couldn’t determine if it was hurt or disappointment. Lettie cleared her throat. “Before I go to Byron, I need to talk to you, Grayson, about my behaviour last night.”
He glanced up and paused with his fork midway to his mouth. “If you intend to go to Ocram on your knees, I’m sure we can agree that events between us were of no consequence. We could even forget it ever happened.”
She swallowed. That was not what she meant at all. She wanted him to understand that she would only play Byron for more time. But with Grayson, she wanted to take a tentative step along a path to a new sort of relationship. Instead he was … cold. “Forget it?”
“Yes. Shall we forget it, as though it meant nothing? Then you can offer yourself to the sylph with a clear conscience.” Grayson’s expression was unreadable. His face remained impassive, although there was a tightness to his jaw. Did she see a tinge of regret in his eyes? This must be the face he wore to convey bad news to his patients, giving away nothing of his inner thoughts or feelings as tragedy unfolded before him.