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Chapter Nine
“I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, to die upon the hand I love so well.”
—Helena, Act 2,A Midsummer Night’s Dream
How did one meet the eyes of a man who made one soil one’s chemise and bedclothes from multiple orgasms in the night?
In herdreams?
Well, Brigid certainly couldn’t figure it out.
And theywereorgasms. She was quite familiar with those bodily fireworks. One didn’t arrive at the ripe old age of five and twenty without feeling certain…cravings at regular intervals each and every month.
The first time she’d awoke with damp underthings she thought her menses had come. But that wasn’t it. And she quickly realized that when she got slick and wet down there, when her button felt swollen and sensitive, a few brushes with her fingers would bring her to a shuddering, wonderful climax.
Better yet, if she rubbed herself with one hand while inserting her longest fingersinside…pressing against just the right spot high up against her mons from within, thepetite mortwas even more devastating.
Aunt Camilla had certainly never had the “talk” with her. Since Brigid had never been courted by an able-bodied young man. Nor any man at all, for that matter. Hence, what was the use of having the “talk”?
She learned what she could about a woman’s body, a man’s body, and what these bodies did together on occasion, from the housekeeper, the cook, and the maids at Castle Mar.
The cook, especially, was quite forthcoming with pertinent information. She was sixty if she was a day, but still kept upregular relations with her husband, the grounds keeper.
She claimed that she was descended from Druids way back when. As such, she had an extremely healthy sex drive, and enjoyed many a man before her lovely, strapping Jamie. And then, she enjoyed Jamie to her pagan heart’s content. Going on forty years now.
Thus, Brigid knew enough about sexual congress between a man and a woman. What went where. Who inserted what into whom. She knew her body’s needs. She was not ashamed of them.
But experiencing completion all night long, until her shift was soaked and her body was sticky with sweat, and her own juices stuck her thighs together beneath the sheets…all without touching herself at all…
Well, that was definitely a first.
And she had one particular merman-dragon to thank for it.
So, she assiduously avoided Sai’s gaze for the entire journey thus far.
What would she have said if he looked into her eyes and politeness demanded that she acknowledge him?
Thank you ever so much for making me come hard and long and more times in one night than I’d ever come in my life thus far, kind sir. With your endless kisses, gorgeous, manly body, especially your fishy lower half and that big hard bulge.
Next time, do you suppose you can release the bulge somehow? Is there a convenient slit beneath your scales? Set free your excellent manhood, so to speak. I know just where to slot it home.
Brigid snorted briefly under her breath at the internal monologue.
Quite.
Fortunately, she didn’t have many opportunities to be in his direct presence, for she rode in the carriage with Annie, while Lord Larkin and Sai rode the borrowed thoroughbreds ahead of them.
To his credit, Sai didn’t seem the least bit altered this fine morning.
And why should he be? It was her dream, after all. The merman was merely a figment of her imagination.
Brigid frowned.
Her dreams might be dreams, but she knew the worlds she created in her mind really did exist. Did this mean that she’d lured Sai into her fantasies in truth? And had her wicked way with him beneath the seas?
Should her first words to him this day be an apology? Something along the lines of—
I’m terribly sorry to have molested the dream you in merman form. And humped the hardness between your scale-wrapped thighs like there was no tomorrow.
