“I ha-ve no idea.”
“I think it is similar, but nevertheless different. We are built differently, after all.”
Indeed. I tightened my grip with a gentle pressure, unsure quite what to do next. Should I use my tongue, as he had? Why not try? I ran it from the tip to the base, taking in his taste. He blew out a breath as his hand relaxed and clenched. Retracing my path, I stopped to place another kiss on the end. His hand enclosed mine, showing me how to work up and down his shaft.
“Emmeline. Would you ...” His other hand caressed the back of my head. “Would you kiss it again. Please.” He kept his hand over mine until I secured a rhythm.
I bit my lip, nodding before lowering my mouth to him. I kissed and licked. He pushed gently on my head to encourage me further. I opened my mouth, taking him inside.
His hands disappeared and I heard them slap on the ground. “Holy Mary, mother of Jesus. Do not stop.”
I did not. Not until he pushed me away, curling forward as ecstasy gripped him in its hold. The evidence of his release covered his belly and legs. Before he could discourage me, I dipped my finger into a drop and touched it to my tongue. He tasted salty, and earthy.
His ribcage surged, eyelids peeled as he witnessed my taste test.
“I swear you will be the death of me.” He barked a laugh before flopping onto his back.
The declaration hit me in the chest. I closed my eyes, captured by something that did not want to release me until it had delivered its message. A vision of a woman giving birth entered my head. The man holding her hand had short dark hair and blue eyes. He wore a simple shirt without buttons and a ring on his finger. They were in a strange setting with contraptions I had never seen beside the bed. I was drawn to the pair. Like I knew who they were at their core. Unlike that of a friendship, it ran much deeper.
I witnessed a gush of blood coming from between her legs before Sebastian broke the spell. “We must be getting back.”
I opened my eyes, drawing in a lungful of air. What was that? I found myself clutching my belly as though it had been me in the throes of labour. Calm yourself. It was just a passing thought. An unwanted one, at that.
Raising my face to the sky, I took in the shapes created by the wispy clouds above. I wanted to stay here—with Sebastian. The fate that lay ahead for me was too wretched to bear.
Reluctantly, I gathered my chemise and drawers and began to dress. We had a little time together before the earl’s arrival. I would focus on that. And when the dreaded moment was upon us, I would leave. With or without Sebastian. “Would you mind?” I hooked the corset over my arms and held out the cord.
He took it, moving behind me. “I completely forgot. Marybeth came looking for you.”
My head snapped to the side, fixing him in my peripheral vision. “Has something happened?” Dread sank into my veins. Had she and Tobias been discovered? Had she let loose her tongue in an act of betrayal against me?
“She said your mother wished to check on you. She managed to divert her, but for how long, she was not certain.”
No doubt Mother would be showering me with more attention now that she had a vested interest in marrying me off. I was curious to know if there had been an exchange of money, or perhaps property in their endeavours. Did my father have an association with the East Indian Trading Company? I had heard him speak of them in passing as he’d read the newspaper. Was that how my fate had come to cross with Reginald Fortescue’s?
My mother and father had no business deciding my future. What an archaic idea it was. I was entirely capable of planning a life of my own choosing.
I would simply have to engineer it so that I never had to see the earl’s face. For to do so, would surely be the makings of a nightmare.
Ben
Rockhampton, Australia
6th of December, 2008
Stewart showed me through to his bedroom at his mum’s place. He’d decided to move all his stuff to his dad’s house. He didn’t want to split his life between two homes anymore and today was the day. I couldn’t blame him. I guessed that was one good thing about having a dead-shit father—I’d never had to do the switch.
His room looked like a laundromat, a sports locker, and a takeaway all threw up in there. It smelled of stale socks and week-old burger. Stewart let one rip, cocking his leg for theatrical effect. Or maybe spreading his cheeks helped the gas escape.
I added methane to the list of odours I could smell, curling my lip. “Could you not have done that outside? Or at least given me a warning?”
“You’re in my space now; enter at your own risk.”
I waved a hand in front of my face, but it made it worse. “Do you want me to help you or not? If you keep gassing me out, I’m gone.”
“I’ll warn you next time.” He turned the fan on. “I can’t hold it in or I’ll explode.”
How had this guy managed to get any women?
I searched for packing boxes. All I saw was a messy bedroom. Nothing was put away, or packed up. “What are we moving?”
“Everything but the furniture and the curtains.”
“You haven’t packed?”
“Nuh.”
“Why not? How are we supposed to move all your shit if it’s spread everywhere?”
“I thought
