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He enfolded her even more, his hand delineating her ribs, her hip, her thighs. “Hm… I presage this woman is going to be the end of me.” His nomad hand continued its trajectory.
“Why is that?” She asked hoarse.
His stubble mouth explored her cheek. “Last night you shattered me.” He nibbled her ear; she would soon become a puddle. “There was nothing left.”
“Poor soldier!” She uttered in false pity.
“The best torture a war prisoner could ever experience!” He muttered in her ear, his breath sowing goose bumps all over her.
“Indeed?” Her other hand descended along his athletic spine. She savoured this lewd power she seemed to have over him.
“Uh-huh.” He rumbled again, his head going perilously nether.
When his mouth encased her breast, words died away.
Aurelia stepped in the drawing room and a middle-aged willowy man sprang immediately from the settee. Bushy white brows shaded kind blue eyes.
“Lady Strafford.”
Hughes had informed her of the visitor, saying he wanted to talk to the Viscount. Since Conrad had gone out riding, she decided to see to it herself.
“I am Doctor Morrison, my lady.” He took her hand respectfully.
It had been more than a week since that… gratifying morning–followed by others even more so!
She curtsied politely. “How can I be of help, Doctor?”
In these last days, she had been out of sorts, a tad queasy and a persisting dizziness, but she thought it might be the hotter weather or something she ate. She had not called a doctor though. She had been around the estate the whole morning, but decided to come back for a cup of tea. Maybe it would settle her discomfort.
“Viscount Strafford wrote to me in London, my lady.” He smiled blandly. “It appears your father requires treatment. Is it a fact?”
Aurelia remembered them having confabulated about her father’s health and he mentioned he would write to London. He had not forgotten then. One more surprise to her already long list of his atypical behaviour.
“Oh, yes. Certainly, Doctor.” She gestured for him to seat and rang for tea.
They discussed her father’s condition over tea. His posture indicated an utterly competent professional, attuned to the latest discoveries in his field.
“We achieved recent developments in Gymnasticon, which is to say a range of exercises which help injured patients recover their movements.” He took one scone. “As a matter of fact, I have visited The Royal Centre Institute of Gymnastics in Stockholm; they are pioneers in this new technique.”
“I am glad to hear it.” She sipped her tea, its aroma soothing her. “I will accompany you to my parents’ manor to introduce you to them.”
Conrad came in that moment, magnificent in breeches and riding coat over vest, white shirt and neat neck cloth.
“Samuel!” He smiled and extended his hand.
“Lord Strafford!” The doctor stood up to greet the newcomer. “I was just explaining to your lady the new treatments available to her father.” They sat down, the footman serving her husband.
Both men talked for a while about their time in India, and what they had been doing since returning to England.
Aurelia’s hands modestly folded on her lap while she listened to them. Her gaze savoured her husband discreetly, pretending she paid attention to his talk. He should smile more times; she cogitated. With perfect teeth, his face turned even more handsome as his thin sensuous lips stretched spontaneously. She remembered his dark eyes perusing her warmly this morning and a pink shade coloured her cheeks. Their indolent early mornings started becoming a habit easy to get used to lately. Exceedingly so, she realised alarmed.
“Lady Strafford has just offered to take me to the Middletons.” Doctor Morrison was saying.
Yanked from her reveries with the mention of her title, she jerked up, maybe a tad too fast. Dizziness blurred her eyes, as she swayed, her hand groping for the settee arm.
“Aurelia!” Conrad was by her side in a fraction of a second. “What happened?” He held her shoulders and supported her.
“Only a bit dizzy.” She said, struggling to keep upright without shaming herself. “I reckon it to be something I ate.”
