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She shrugged, even if it came thrumming with emotions. Whether or not he spoke the truth, it didn’t concern her. “Whatever you say.” She dismissed. “Your life isn’t my business.”
“But it could be.” He taunted again.
“You want to go back to your convenient way of doing things I suppose.” Her statement dripped in sarcasm.
“It was working, wasn’t it?” His hands found his trousers pockets as he towered over her with his massive height and the wall of his body.
Damn, but she missed him! She might deny it to him as much as she wished, but there was no way she could cheat herself with lies she didn’t.
“I can understand it worked for you.” She answered, trying to press down the effect he had on her. “Your people have been doing everything this way for centuries.”
“A right tested formula.” Without her realising it, he’d come closer because she had to crick her neck to look at him. His eyes bore down on hers, giving her the urge to climb all over him.
“One you don’t intend to change.” She jabbed. If he meant to push her, she would do the same.
“In my point of view, it’s perfect.” That solid shoulder moved up and down with apparent casualness contradicted by the intensity of his eyes. This close, the scent of him wormed through her nostrils, mining her self-restraint even more.
“What you’re saying is that you’d have kept me even if you walked down the aisle.”
He didn’t reply immediately. Those brandy irises caressed her from the stray strands of hair escaping her bun after a day’s work, to the bodice where her breasts rose and fell with the intensity of her emotions, to her worn boots that trembled to hit the boards with frustration. Those fireworks teetered, about to burst. His stare clasped back on hers and she nearly went up in the air.
“Why not?” He rasped, gruff and suggestive.
The forceful yearning roiled and mingled with the wave of pure rage that his answer erupted. He might only be goading her, but she wouldn’t tolerate this. She felt her eyes bulging on him as her hands bracketed her waist. “You can stuff your archaic views.” She vented.
He tilted his head as though her quip amounted to nothing. “A man can’t be blamed for trying.”
“Trying the usual tricks, you mean.” She accused.
“All’s fair in love and all that,” he said.
“Who said anything about love?” She snapped. If he gave himself the right to push her to the edge, so did she.
In the glorified servants' position mistresses held, they had no right to love. Scorned by society, dismissed as unimportant by their keepers, they'd be fortunate to have even a shred of future after the men who held all the power discarded them. And Hester pitied those women who were foolish enough to fall in love with these lords. In her point of view, the upper crust was always so afraid of losing their precious fortune and status that they never even learned the meaning of love or any other authentic feelings. Mistresses who became attached to their masters were fated to suffer loss, disdain and regret. And she couldn't avoid the notion that she managed a narrow escape from this destiny. She'd fallen for his proposition but counted herself fortunate to have a family, a work, and even a home to go back to.
Her answer made his eyes darken with the banked fury she sensed he hid behind his apparent cynicism.
This conversation had gone too far. Hester thought it better to put an end to it lest she said or did something she might regret later. “I bid you farewell, my lord.” And curtsied as gracefully as her ragged emotions permitted. Her feet stepped away and turned to leave.
“He won’t satisfy you; you know.” He drawled behind her. “Not like I do.”
She swivelled to him, a scornful grin on her face. “I do believe I’ve learned enough to find satisfaction with any man.”
With one of his long steps, they were standing toe to toe. “Damn you.” He growled as his large hands lined her cheeks. And his head dived to her.
Taken by surprise, her body reacted instinctively. Her hands grabbed his shoulders as a moan nearly left her. His touch set fire to her senses, and she let go. She didn’t have forces for even a token resistance. He’d undermined her with such skill there was nothing left to counter it.
His lips grazed hers, warm and intent on seduction. “Damn you.” He repeated. Then his mouth opened hers for him. And so, it began, the plunder, the fire, the hunger.
He invaded her mouth as though he’d die if he didn’t. His hands kept her in place for him to transform her into jam. With a muffled sound clogged in her throat, her hands climbed up his shoulders and filled themselves with his slick hair while her body glued to his.
Oh, yes!
Her response prompted him to wrap those bunched arms around her and pull her even closer to deepen the kiss to a point that she’d be begging for surcease in more or less a second. He straightened, still banding her body, her feet left the boards, and she soared into sensation.
Their tongues entangled, and she didn’t understand why it wasn’t enough. It should be, but only a bottomless need unfurled in her. The same he unleashed since the first time they met. The one that kept her under his roof for a year. The same that wouldn’t leave her in peace.
He turned his head this way and that, and every cell in her just screamed for more. He moved, and suddenly her back touched the floorboards as he brought them to lie down. And then their bodies also entangled as he made the kiss into a weapon that’d annihilate not only her body but also her clear mind, and her will-power.
