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“Papa, you’re back!” I rejoice, flashing him a grin, hoping to distract him from his frustrations with me.
“And you’ve used my absence to disobey my orders. Where have you been?” he asks again, this time with his tone lowered.
“Papa, it’s been so boring, and I needed to stimulate my mind. I went for a walk in the town. Picked up some company,” I say, waving the book at him.
“Town?” He raises his voice again. “What have I told you about staying out of sight? It’s dangerous out there!”
“More dangerous than the places we’ve lived in? The most danger the people in this town have experienced is being overly obnoxious and arrogant,” I say, removing the rusting barrette, given to me by my mother before her death, from my hair. My curls tumble over my back, and I sigh in relief. “Do you know I received a proposal today from a positively insane man?” I grin. “Trust me, Papa, I was safe.”
He groans, and I turn to see him rubbing his forehead. “You can’t be sure that you were. Are you sure you weren’t followed?” he asks, opening the door and peering into the dusk.
“Oh, I hope that irritating man didn’t follow me home,” I say with wide eyes, shaking my head.
“Which man?” My father spins around, and his hand seems to shake on the door.
“Heath,” I say, looking at him curiously. “The unbearable man who asked me to marry him.”
“A man asked you to marry him?” he says, closing the door and gesturing down the hall for us to walk together.
“Yes, Papa. That’s what I just said. Is everything all right? You’ve never told me why you insist that I lock myself away behind these walls.” I study him.
“Yes. Yes, dear,” he groans, running his hand through his full, slightly grey, brown hair. “So, you’ve been proposed to? I’ll have to meet my future son-in-law.” His panic fades away as a smile grows.
“Son-in-law? Sir Braggadocio? No, thank you,” I respond, hurrying my feet down the hall, toward the drawing room.
“I suppose if he isn’t to your liking… Does he appear to be affluent?” my father asks.
“Papa…” I start.
“Olivia,” he seconds.
“Yes. He’s affluent. He couldn’t stop talking about it.” I roll my eyes. “But I don’t know him, and I don’t wish to know him,” I respond.
“Did he do something to compromise you in any way?” my father whispers, lowering his brows at my passionate response.
“Oh, heavens no. But he was overly direct. I was certainly uncomfortable by the end of the conversation,” I say.
My father takes a long pause before he speaks again. “Nevertheless, I’d like to meet this man,” he says.
I groan.
“What did you say his name was?” he asks.
“Lord Pompous,” I respond but as my father clears his throat, I sigh. “Heath Everton. But please, Papa, he’s humourless and conceited. You know I love you and would do anything for you but please, don’t entertain the idea of me marrying this man,” I ask.
He nods, and I nod, before flipping my book open, inhaling the scent of its leather and fresh ink, and indulging into the words of anguish splattered upon the page.
Chapter Two
Adam
Thenightchillcomingfrom my opened windows is a welcome respite from the unforgiving heat of the day. The wind tickles the leaves that litter the ground, night birds and crickets chirp, wolves howl, and distant dogs bark. My eyes burn from staring at ledgers all day, and from the lanterns that light this dark room. A cramp seizes the side of my head and my chest, while the scent of a woman’s quim permeates the room.
The only thing I require to relieve me as these ledgers pain me, is the light skirt between my knees. Her cursed vessel moves over me, tugging on my manhood as her hand helps to guide her. For a moment, I can stop twiddling my quill. For a single, fleeting moment, the books in my library blur. And in the next second, there’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. Her bobbing head pounds against the desk before me. And I groan, but I’m left wanting.
Grabbing her raven hair, I force myself deeper into her tunnel, and her moans become a sort of retching, though nothing is dislodged from her body. Closing my eyes and biting down on my lip, I thrust my hips as far as I can manage.
I’m trying. I’m giving it everything I have, plunging myself into her until her eyes bulge, pounding her head against me, cramming her mouth. Still nothing. Cursing, I pull, and she’s off me. Her head crashes against the lowered part of my thick mahogany desk.
