spirits. He picked a particularly strong blend to keep him company tonight.
He knew that he had lost her. The woman who came here to love him would never love him now. It was his fault. The night of her birthday he should have stayed by her side. Should have held her all night the moment he realized something was wrong with her. But he was too caught up with his inner demons to think of how she must have been feeling.
If what Saska said was true, if she came from a place in the future, he wanted to know everything there was to know about it. He wanted to know what wondrous things were invented, what wars were won and lost, but most of all, he wanted Millicent to stay. He wanted her to love him, give him children, grow old with him and be happy.
He was fooling himself if he believed she would turn a blind eye to what Vivian St. Claire was. After dawn tomorrow, all would return as it was—he may as well be foxed.
In less than thirty minutes he had polished off half the bottle. As the bedchamber swayed and blurred before him, he finally collapsed onto the bed sheets, fully dressed.
Some hours later, his lids fluttered open, and the urge to vomit rushed up like a demon from hell. He swung his legs over the bed, holding his head in his hands, and looked at the clock.
It was nearly breakfast.
He frowned, noticing the amethyst globe was sitting on his nightstand. He did not want to look at it, did not want to be reminded of what it represented. The Millicent he wanted would be gone now, back to wherever she had come from.
Heavy-footed, he dressed with all the enthusiasm of a pot-bellied pig. Morning light trickled in through the windows, turning the dull throb of his headache into a sharp sting. He plodded down the hallway and stairs, determined to leave the house immediately and get to the warehouse.
He was almost out the door when Samson interrupted him from behind. “Mrs. Blackwood wishes to have a word with you in the parlor, sir.”
Warden hung his head and sighed. Not only did his head hurt, his heart was breaking. “How does she seem?”
“From what I’ve gathered, she had little sleep last night and is in a foul mood.”
Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful.
The thud of his boots matched the pounding of his heart as he made his way to the parlor. As he rounded the corner, he caught her sitting stiffly on a loveseat. Not a single piece of her hair was unruly, nor was she improperly dressed as he had found her the night of her birthday party. By all means, this was the real Millicent Blackwood.
He would do anything to get the new Millicent back. Anything.
She looked up and stared at him. Not a flicker of heat in her eyes, nor a hint of a smile. Her nose flared, and she made a disgusted face. “You smell like a tavern.”
“And you should mind—”
She lifted her palm, cutting him short, then stood up and approached him. “You didn’t wait up for me last night.”
How could she know—?
“I decided I have no need for that silly globe, so I brought it back to your room to give it to you. But you were wasted in bed. I sat up all night watching over you, and you, selfish and childishly, would’ve left here without giving me a kiss goodbye.”
Warden’s jaw dropped when Millicent trailed her hand down his waist and gripped his cock. “That is no way to treat a lady.”
He gazed down at her, trying to decipher who she was. Either the real Millicent had come back with a vengeance, or his beautiful stranger was playing with him. There could be only one reason why she would give him the globe…or grip his cock like she owned him.
The corners of his mouth lifted. His heart pounded and his nerves twitched. “Who are you?”
Millicent’s eyes glinted flirtatiously. “Why don’t you take off your pants and find out…my love.”
Warden let out a holler fit to wake the dead. Millicent giggled then shrieked as Warden reached round and smacked her lush bottom. Then he picked her up and carried her to the
He knew that he had lost her. The woman who came here to love him would never love him now. It was his fault. The night of her birthday he should have stayed by her side. Should have held her all night the moment he realized something was wrong with her. But he was too caught up with his inner demons to think of how she must have been feeling.
If what Saska said was true, if she came from a place in the future, he wanted to know everything there was to know about it. He wanted to know what wondrous things were invented, what wars were won and lost, but most of all, he wanted Millicent to stay. He wanted her to love him, give him children, grow old with him and be happy.
He was fooling himself if he believed she would turn a blind eye to what Vivian St. Claire was. After dawn tomorrow, all would return as it was—he may as well be foxed.
In less than thirty minutes he had polished off half the bottle. As the bedchamber swayed and blurred before him, he finally collapsed onto the bed sheets, fully dressed.
Some hours later, his lids fluttered open, and the urge to vomit rushed up like a demon from hell. He swung his legs over the bed, holding his head in his hands, and looked at the clock.
It was nearly breakfast.
He frowned, noticing the amethyst globe was sitting on his nightstand. He did not want to look at it, did not want to be reminded of what it represented. The Millicent he wanted would be gone now, back to wherever she had come from.
Heavy-footed, he dressed with all the enthusiasm of a pot-bellied pig. Morning light trickled in through the windows, turning the dull throb of his headache into a sharp sting. He plodded down the hallway and stairs, determined to leave the house immediately and get to the warehouse.
He was almost out the door when Samson interrupted him from behind. “Mrs. Blackwood wishes to have a word with you in the parlor, sir.”
Warden hung his head and sighed. Not only did his head hurt, his heart was breaking. “How does she seem?”
“From what I’ve gathered, she had little sleep last night and is in a foul mood.”
Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful.
The thud of his boots matched the pounding of his heart as he made his way to the parlor. As he rounded the corner, he caught her sitting stiffly on a loveseat. Not a single piece of her hair was unruly, nor was she improperly dressed as he had found her the night of her birthday party. By all means, this was the real Millicent Blackwood.
He would do anything to get the new Millicent back. Anything.
She looked up and stared at him. Not a flicker of heat in her eyes, nor a hint of a smile. Her nose flared, and she made a disgusted face. “You smell like a tavern.”
“And you should mind—”
She lifted her palm, cutting him short, then stood up and approached him. “You didn’t wait up for me last night.”
How could she know—?
“I decided I have no need for that silly globe, so I brought it back to your room to give it to you. But you were wasted in bed. I sat up all night watching over you, and you, selfish and childishly, would’ve left here without giving me a kiss goodbye.”
Warden’s jaw dropped when Millicent trailed her hand down his waist and gripped his cock. “That is no way to treat a lady.”
He gazed down at her, trying to decipher who she was. Either the real Millicent had come back with a vengeance, or his beautiful stranger was playing with him. There could be only one reason why she would give him the globe…or grip his cock like she owned him.
The corners of his mouth lifted. His heart pounded and his nerves twitched. “Who are you?”
Millicent’s eyes glinted flirtatiously. “Why don’t you take off your pants and find out…my love.”
Warden let out a holler fit to wake the dead. Millicent giggled then shrieked as Warden reached round and smacked her lush bottom. Then he picked her up and carried her to the
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