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Living in her crowded family house, sharing a bed crammed with siblings—no privacy, lots of noise—she had dreamed of escaping her life. For all its hard work, her years in service brought welcome change.
Until Frederick, she hadn’t dreamed of an even better existence, and she felt immense gratitude sitting there in the music room on Hanover Square, enjoying this musical performance and space fit for royalty.
Thank you for not granting my earlier prayers.She thought not only of nights after Lady Clara’s announcement, when she’d pleaded for a change of heart by her employer. Also on her mind were the times she fell into bed, so overwhelmed and exhausted by the relentless commotion and work in her family home that she wished that death would claim her as she slept.
Thirty-eight years of living, and life was only becoming better.
Cloaked again and standing outside in the cool evening air, Molly appreciated the debonair figure that Frederick cut as he arranged for the cab to take her home.
What if, instead, we slipped to his rooms and…
No. Not with Pulley waiting for her to return home! She sighed.All in good time.
He assisted her up to the cab, and as soon as he settled into the seat next to her, she chattered nervously. “The musicians sounded so splendid! To my ears, anyway. Of course, you being a musician, surely you have more observations.”
Molly was certain she’d never seen a more charming smile from Frederick; she felt fortunate for the nearby gas street lamp, without which she might have missed seeing it.
“Was there music? I’m not sure if I noticed tonight.”
“I know very well you paid it some mind, at least sometimes.”
“Sometimes, yes,” he murmured.
This cabbie’s command over his horse was gentle, and their pace to the Robertson mansion almost sleepy compared to the breakneck speed on the way to the concert.
The interior of the lightly bouncing vehicle was completely dark, but she nearly wilted in anticipation when she felt Frederick tugging off his gloves. He cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks as if she were irreplaceable to him.
How could he treasure me so?
His touch left her in no doubt that he did, and when his mouth lowered to hers, at first he kissed her with a matching reverence.
The music they’d heard tonight was, at its most basic, but a series of notes. Those notes conveyed a meaning deeper than the mere sound produced by each instrument in the ensemble, however; the composers had arranged them and structured their pieces to tell stories and evoke feelings.
Molly and Frederick’s kiss was an opera that began with a soft overture. Frederick’s silken but firm lips brushed over hers, as if they had all the time in the world. As their mouths continued to rub, a whimper escaped her, prompting them both to clutch each other.
Frederick’s aria began when one of his hands slipped behind her head, protecting it as he pressed her back against the seat of the cab. He nibbled tenderly at her bottom lip, an unleashing of his hunger, and soon, he deepened the kiss.
Molly welcomed his velvet heat into her mouth, gliding her tongue against his. He surrounded to her, and she gloried in it; the hand that cradled her head possessively, his delectable taste in her mouth.
But it wasn’t enough. While their tongues stroked, her leg looped around his, drawing his body closer. He moaned low in her mouth, then shifted himself over her.
Yes! His hardness rested on her thigh, pressing through her skirts.
She flicked her cape open, her aria overtaking his. He let her guide his bare hand to her bodice, molding his palm around her breast. Arching into him increased the ache rather than relieved it.
They moved and kissed in a duet. She arched herself toward his hand, restless, seeking, and his hand shaped her, explored her. With a groan, he shifted and pulled her over his lap, straddling him.
Molly gasped when he unclasped her cape, eager for him to lavish attention on both her breasts. His hands now free in this position, he slipped them past the folds of the ivory satin cape. His breathing changed as he grasped her waist, and again when his deft hands closed over her breasts.
After that, her own hitched breathing filled her ears. His first touches in the dark felt as though he was memorizing her, but soon enough, his fingertips plied her nipples through the gown.
It took biting her lip to silence her cries as he touched her, especially when his warm breath slid over the bare skin above her neckline. He bestowed a line of kisses across the top of one small swell to the other, his tongue darting out to taste the space in between.
“Oh,” she breathed, wanting him to open her bodice. Awareness arced from the moist spot between her breasts to each nipple, making her think of what his tongue would feel like on them.
“We’re almost there,” he said in a gravelly voice.
Molly froze as she realized the meaning of his words, but she let him guide her back down to her side of the seat.
