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Chapter 7
Everyone had gone to bed and with trembling fingers, Esther reached into her night stand, with the centre between her legs already fluttering. The book, with its vivid imagery, stirred her blood like nothing else. With the book on her lap, she trimmed the lamp and opened it to her last page.
He cupped her full breast, silken and round; fitting perfectly in his large palm. Madeline threw her head back and gnawed at her lip, the sensations from his touch sending streaks of fire through her body. The feel of his hot mouth over her tender skin was just as sensual as Madeline watching her budded nipple disappear in his mouth and re-emerge, glistening wet.
Esther bit her lips as her middle grew warm and she pressed her legs tight. She read past Madeline’s seduction by Nathaniel’s lips, to him looping a silken cloth around her eyes and.
The pressure on her chin had her lips open and his tongue thrust into her mouth like a fierce lance demanding submission. Madeline’s back arched as his kiss changed from demanding to savage.His rough palms skimmed over her stockinged legs, as he pulled her bared thighs apart.
His body covered hers and lost in the maelstrom of lust, Madeline clung to him, her pelvis naturally lifting to take what he would give her. Deeper and deeper, he entered her sheath, rasping her name with a guttural cry. Trapped in throes of ecstasy, Madeline felt his turgidness touch the end of her, his heat flooding her womb.
Whimpering a little, Esther briefly closed the book to suck in a well-needed breath of air. Her lungs were burning from the tightness in her middle and the pounding of her heart. Pressing a free hand to the organ, she felt the hard thumps of it against her ribcage.
She felt undone. Was this Arthur’s subtle way of seducing her? Was he trying to let her know the pleasures she would feel under his hand? Was he trying to break down her inhibitions and let her know about the pleasures that came from utterly, scandalous acts?
If that was his aim—he was right. All I can imagine is him kissing me, undressing me…deflowering me.
Her heart hammered just a little out of rhythm when she considered it; and though it felt sensual to play a courtesan, to break proprietary, and let her inner desires out, she did not know if she could do so. All her life she knew that marriage had to come first… but now, the smoke of temptation was slithering under the wall of her control.
Closing the book, Esther set it back in her drawer and stepped out of bed. Grasping and donning her wrapper, Esther went to her window. With her hands braced on the cold sill, she gazed out.
Esther could not number the times she had dreamed of a Romeo climbing the trellis to her balcony, singing sonnets to her, wooing her with declarations of love. Now though—fate had found it fitting to send Captain Arthur Morgan her way. A man with none of the romantic sentimentalities she had dreamed of, but one who had all the attributes in a man she prized.
He was honest to a fault, loyal, and brave—those she had already gathered from their interactions, but she had to see if he was gracious, caring, and fun-loving—although, his actions in the sweetshop had told her so.
Resting her head on the sill, she grieved for Arthur, to know that he had risked his life for freedom and had to come home to a life of agony, pained her.
He said there is nothing I can do…but what if there was? Perhaps a small token of my thanks? But what do I have to give that will make a mark on him?
Going to her vanity, she opened a drawer and rooted through it, in vain. Nothing, no trinkets nor baubles stood out enough to be sent as a gift to him. Frustrated a little, she closed the drawer and went back to bed. Perhaps by the next morning, she would have enough clarity to find something fitting.
Her rest was fitful, and she woke still undecided and muddled. Opting not to move from her bed just yet, Esther reached for a pillow and hugged it close to her chest. Her life veered off into a spin the moment Arthur had taken her on the dance-floor and now, her sensibilities were still reeling.
A soft knock that announced Margaret’s entrance had her looking up as her maid came in. “Good morning, My Lady. I am sorry to disturb you, but His Grace has asked you to see him in his study now before he leaves.”
Huffing under her breath, Esther moved from the bed and grasped her wrapper. “Good morning, Margaret. What do you suppose he needs to speak to me about?”
“I have nary an inkling, My Lady,” Margaret replied, while Esther went off to wash her face and mouth.
Donning a housecoat over her wrapper, Esther donned her slippers and left the room to see John. He was behind his desk, signing papers and setting them aside.
“John?” Esther asked, “Why the summons?”
His eyes flickered up to her, “I’ve told Mother about your visits with Captain Morgan and she has asked to meet him today. I have sent him a message and he will be by this evening.”
Oddly, Esther felt betrayed, “And you had no regard to ask me first?”
John placed the quill unto the blotter, “I did not think I had to. If you had sneaked off with the Captain any more and the gossipers got wind of it, you would have found yourself in a scandal you would have fought hard to dig yourself out.”
“I had not sneaked off anywhere,” she said indignantly. “I left notes.”
“Notes or not, you left when Mother and I were away,” John replied, “That is sneaking away in my book.”
Bristling, Esther shot back, “And when you left off in the middle of the night to go see that lady, Gale, something, was that not sneaking off?”
He sat back in his chair and gave her a dry look, “Miss Gale was my engaged, and I am male; I have more freedom.”
“Is that why you broke the engagement by letter,” Esther pressed, scornfully. “Because you have the power to do so?”
