Page 24 of Love Letters & Lemon Drops

I lean in and press my lips against his, kissing him softly and hoping he takes it to mean exactly what it does, that I care for him deeply and want nothing more than to spend a lot more time with him. In all ways that I can.

Chapter 12

I hum to myself as I make my way through to my private sitting room. It's still new to me to have a place like this that's all to my own, especially as the servants don't come in without asking, but I like it. And it is certainly one of the many advantages of moving to Falhaven.

The window rattles and I look over in time to see Felicia squeezing herself through the gap.

"Where have you been?" I ask my cat. "You're a castle-cat, not an outdoor-cat."

She gives me a look that says she's not impressed by my choice of address and continues to do a lap of the room, checking for anything of interest, though I'm not sure precisely what that might be.

I ignore her, knowing that it's best for me to wait for her to come to me when she wants fuss, and go to sit at my desk and write to Mamá instead. A streak of black and grey fur is the only thing I see as she jumps onto my desk, knocking over one of my ink pots as she does.

"Felicia!" I grab it, trying to stop the spread of the ink before I waste a lot of the paper.

She doesn't care at all and starts to walk across the desk, leaving a trail of ink footprints behind her.

"Oh, no, you don't." I scoop her up and grab a cloth so I can wipe off her feet. "How many times do I have to tell you not to walk over things when I'm planning on writing?"

"Meow."

"I thought as much." I place her on the cat tower, much to her indignation, but she seems to like several of the cushions that Arthur put there.

I return to my desk and pull my chair closer, getting ready to write to Mamá.

I pause with my pen over the page, not entirely sure what I want to write. I know Mama wants to hear about how I'm settling in at Falhaven Castle, but all I can think about are the things sheshouldn'tbe told about. Like the way it had felt to have Arthur's hands on my skin last night.

I shake my thoughts aside and focus on the letter I'm supposed to be writing. There are lots of things I can tell Mamá about my time in Falhaven that don't involve any impropriety on my part. I can tell her about my visit to the Winter Fair, and getting to know Arthur's sisters.

Except that no matter what I start to write about, I find my mind drifting back to last night.

Warmth fills me at the memories, and without even fully realising what I'm doing, I reach for a second sheet of paper and put Arthur's name at the top of it. Something about writing his name like that opens the floodgates within me, and I start writing him a letter, describing all of the things we did last night in a surprising amount of detail. A feeling I now recognise settles inside me, growing stronger as my words stray from memory into fantasy. I find myself describing what it might feel like tofeel his hand smooth under my skirt, his lips following the same path, and perhaps finding another spot, somewhere that could make me fall apart.

I swallow hard, my skin flushed and my thoughts racing. I'm not entirely sure what's possessing me to write all of this. The only thing I know is that I want it. I wanthim.

Something I need to figure out how to tell him that without him thinking that I'm wanton and not like the proper princess I should be. Except, he's not going to think that. I'm not the only one who lost control. He was with me yesterday, and he clearly feels some of the same needs I do.

I lean back in my seat, contemplating what I'm supposed to do now. There's been a feverish rush of words, and it's hard to distinguish some of them. And while it feels good to have put them to the page, I can feel the need inside me glowing hot and unanswered. I never thought I could feel this way.

A knock sounds on the door to my sitting room. I quickly cover the page with another, not wanting to risk anyone seeing it, not when I don't know how they'd react to what's written there. In reality, there's only one person I would even consider sharing them with.

"One moment," I call out, assuming it isn't one of the servants from the fact that they haven't just come inside. I get to my feet and smooth out my dress, almost as if I expect it to be wrinkled from the tryst I've written about, when in reality, they're completely untouched.

I head over to the door and pull it open, revealing the object of my desires standing in front of me.

"Good morning," he says, his voice welcoming in all the right ways.

I gesture for him to step inside. "I was writing to my mother," I say.

"Oh, then I shouldn't interrupt," Artie says.

"You can," I respond. "It wasn't going very well, about the only thing I've managed to write is a request for her to send me more lemon drops now I've run out." I bite my bottom lip without meaning to, drawing his attention to it.

"Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe I can read what you put..."

"Oh, erm..."

"Sola? Is everything all right?"

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