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Authors: Pearl Wolf
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inducing shock waves down to her toes.
“One kiss delivered as promised,” he said, drawing away, but she pulled him closer, clutching the lapels of his coat as if she was afraid he would vanish.
He nuzzled her neck. “You may not want me to stop, but I must. Besides, there are consequences, you know.”
“I don’t want you to stop, consequences be damned.” She lay back on the settee.
His body pressed down against hers. She could feel his hardness through the fabric of her skirts, branding her stomach. A sound escaped from deep inside her, like the cooing of a dove. She shuddered when his fingers began to trace the neckline of her gown, each touch igniting her, turning her limbs to jelly. He tugged at the sleeves of her gown until they slid off her shoulders. She felt a welcome whisper of air wafting across her breasts. His hand curved around one breast and her nipple puckered. His thighs pressed against hers. She wondered at the curling of her toes. How odd. How wicked. She loved it. Somewhere in the haze of her thoughts, she yearned to know what came next. She squirmed beneath him, wanting more, wanting…what? She had no idea.
He groaned and released her mouth, then lowered his own until his lips found a breast. He took the nipple between his teeth. His hand sought the treasure between her thighs.
They paid no heed to the squeak of the door. Nor did the gasp of outrage from Amy’s lips reach their ears.
When the heavy pitcher filled with water came crashing down on Lord Waverley’s head, it produced a loud thunk.
That claimed their full attention.
Chapter 5
Friday, the Tenth of April, 1818
“Good morning, ma’am,” Waverley said cheerfully as he took a seat opposite Helena. He behaved as though nothing had happened the evening before in spite of the visible bump on his forehead.
Astonished, Helena took in the slight, dark-skinned man wearing a turban, a bright yellow coat that fell to his knees, pants, and shoes with curled-up toes. He followed his lordship into the dining parlor.
Amused at her reaction, Waverley introduced his valet. “This is Rabu, ma’am. In the firm belief that I am unable to care for myself, Rabu insisted upon accompanying me home from India to accomplish that task. Isn’t that right, Rabu?”
Rabu giggled, his grin reaching from ear to ear. “Yes, mastah.”
“How do you do, Rabu,” said Helena, much amused.
The little man made a sweeping bow. “Allo, meestress.” He giggled again.
Waverley’s lips quirked. “Pay him no mind, ma’am. Rabu giggles all the time. Weddings, funerals, disasters. In spite of the giggle, he’s working hard at learning our tongue. I’ll have the eggs and some ham, Rabu.” At once, the valet bustled about serving his master.
Helena took a sip of her tea. “He is quite an…original, my lord. How is your head this morning?”
“My head is fine, thank you, except for this colorful bump developing on my skull. Speaking of which, how is your abigail? Dear little Amy is also an original. Was it you who taught her that delightful trick with the pitcher? Next time, advise her to empty it of water first before she puts it to such practical use.” He dug into his breakfast with his customary zeal.
“I most certainly did not teach her such a shabby trick. Amy thought it up all by herself.”
“Clever little puss,” he murmured between bites.
Helena was fascinated by the extraordinary amount of food her escort was consuming. “You seem excessively hungry this morning. As if you haven’t eaten for a week.”
“Oh no, ma’am. I eat like this all the time. Since I am an active man, I use food to fuel my body.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and waved to Rabu to remove his plate. “Coffee, Rabu.”
“Yes, sah!” Rabu said with a hint of the military. And giggled.
“We leave in one hour, to take advantage of the light, ma’am. I’ve asked the innkeeper to provide a basket for a midday meal. When we change horses at
“One kiss delivered as promised,” he said, drawing away, but she pulled him closer, clutching the lapels of his coat as if she was afraid he would vanish.
He nuzzled her neck. “You may not want me to stop, but I must. Besides, there are consequences, you know.”
“I don’t want you to stop, consequences be damned.” She lay back on the settee.
His body pressed down against hers. She could feel his hardness through the fabric of her skirts, branding her stomach. A sound escaped from deep inside her, like the cooing of a dove. She shuddered when his fingers began to trace the neckline of her gown, each touch igniting her, turning her limbs to jelly. He tugged at the sleeves of her gown until they slid off her shoulders. She felt a welcome whisper of air wafting across her breasts. His hand curved around one breast and her nipple puckered. His thighs pressed against hers. She wondered at the curling of her toes. How odd. How wicked. She loved it. Somewhere in the haze of her thoughts, she yearned to know what came next. She squirmed beneath him, wanting more, wanting…what? She had no idea.
He groaned and released her mouth, then lowered his own until his lips found a breast. He took the nipple between his teeth. His hand sought the treasure between her thighs.
They paid no heed to the squeak of the door. Nor did the gasp of outrage from Amy’s lips reach their ears.
When the heavy pitcher filled with water came crashing down on Lord Waverley’s head, it produced a loud thunk.
That claimed their full attention.
Chapter 5
Friday, the Tenth of April, 1818
“Good morning, ma’am,” Waverley said cheerfully as he took a seat opposite Helena. He behaved as though nothing had happened the evening before in spite of the visible bump on his forehead.
Astonished, Helena took in the slight, dark-skinned man wearing a turban, a bright yellow coat that fell to his knees, pants, and shoes with curled-up toes. He followed his lordship into the dining parlor.
Amused at her reaction, Waverley introduced his valet. “This is Rabu, ma’am. In the firm belief that I am unable to care for myself, Rabu insisted upon accompanying me home from India to accomplish that task. Isn’t that right, Rabu?”
Rabu giggled, his grin reaching from ear to ear. “Yes, mastah.”
“How do you do, Rabu,” said Helena, much amused.
The little man made a sweeping bow. “Allo, meestress.” He giggled again.
Waverley’s lips quirked. “Pay him no mind, ma’am. Rabu giggles all the time. Weddings, funerals, disasters. In spite of the giggle, he’s working hard at learning our tongue. I’ll have the eggs and some ham, Rabu.” At once, the valet bustled about serving his master.
Helena took a sip of her tea. “He is quite an…original, my lord. How is your head this morning?”
“My head is fine, thank you, except for this colorful bump developing on my skull. Speaking of which, how is your abigail? Dear little Amy is also an original. Was it you who taught her that delightful trick with the pitcher? Next time, advise her to empty it of water first before she puts it to such practical use.” He dug into his breakfast with his customary zeal.
“I most certainly did not teach her such a shabby trick. Amy thought it up all by herself.”
“Clever little puss,” he murmured between bites.
Helena was fascinated by the extraordinary amount of food her escort was consuming. “You seem excessively hungry this morning. As if you haven’t eaten for a week.”
“Oh no, ma’am. I eat like this all the time. Since I am an active man, I use food to fuel my body.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and waved to Rabu to remove his plate. “Coffee, Rabu.”
“Yes, sah!” Rabu said with a hint of the military. And giggled.
“We leave in one hour, to take advantage of the light, ma’am. I’ve asked the innkeeper to provide a basket for a midday meal. When we change horses at
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