Page 97 of Unseen

“Insufferable man,” Azriel muttered as he sat down beside me. “That, beloved, is one of the members of the fine society that you so want to impress.”

I dipped my head to sneak a look at Grantham’s retreating form, wavering ever so slightly on his feet, as though he had perhaps imbibed too much Christmas brandy on his way to the church.

“You are a cool liar, Azriel. Anyone would have thought you two are the best of friends.” I smirked at him. “And what makes Lord Grantham so very odious?”

Azriel leaned closer to my ear. “I once attended a party at their house, could you guess what was laid out on the table for everyone to see?” He raised an eyebrow as I shook my head. “A mummy. Direct from Egypt. Apparently Lady Grantham developed a fondness for ancient Egypt and was so fascinated, she had to cart one of the poor sods back.”

I wrinkled my nose at the thought. “What on earth for?”

“To grind his bones to dust, served in cocktails to all attending.”

“Oh, how disgusting.” Bile rose in my throat at the thought. “Whatever did that taste like?”

Azriel snorted out a laugh. “I refused kindly. Didn’t quite suit my sentiments to reduce an Egyptian nobleman to an oddity stirred into absinthe. He was a human being for god’s sake.”

I tilted my head as I gazed at my husband. “You are a strange man, darling. Such noble thoughts entwined with such depraved ones.”

Azriel smiled indulgently, leaning close to plant a furtive kiss on my cheek. “It is what makes me so interesting. Also…” He leaned closer to my ear. “I do like it when you call me ‘darling’.”

“It is so much more acceptable than ‘captor’, I suppose.” I attempted venom in my gaze, but all I could manage was coquettishness, and Azriel laughed under his breath, placing a hand over mine.

“Much more acceptable, on all counts.” He kissed the back of my hand, and the organ began to play a Christmas melody.

We all rose to our feet to sing God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen amidst the flickering candlelight, and when Father Price stepped up to his dais, we all took our seats on the hard wooden pews once more. The wind began to howl outside, promising an even heavier fall of snow than the gentle flakes from this afternoon had promised, and I was sure London would be buried this Christmastide.

Oh, what a welcome, delicious thought it was - to be snowed in at Linmere with my new husband. A thought that would have been egregious mere weeks ago was now more than welcome, and I very much looked forward to spending the coming days in bed.

We sat and listened to Father Price speak of the joys of the season, the importance of family, of doing good works, of entering the year with renewed faith and determination to continue to live in God’s own image.

Azriel’s hand still lay benignly on mine in my lap, his coat folded over his knees. He laced his fingers through mine, shifting to more properly cover his legs, no doubt feeling the cold in the drafty church. His face determinedly still facingforward, he pulled my hand under the coat, pulling my glove from my hand, one finger at a time. I did not think much of it, simply smiled to myself, thinking he was trying to keep me warm.

Then he placed my hand on something hot and hard, and I had to suppress a squeak. I dared not look at him and alert those around us what was going on. Here I was, in the middle of a church, with my bare hand wrapped around my husband’s manhood.

My cheeks flamed, and my stomach clenched with desire. This was a step too far, even for Azriel, surely. To do such a thing in a church? It was filthy. Completely deviant behaviour.

Which honestly made it all even more fun.

I stroked my fingers gently along him, not wanting to cause too much movement, lest someone notice. I squeezed the base of him, and he groaned ever so softly, so only I would hear it. When I ran my thumb over the tip, a hot liquid was pooling there, making my movements easier, and Azriel tensed as I rhythmically stroked him, over and over.

This was thrilling.

“We must not give in to temptation!” Father Price proselytised from the pulpit, his hands raised, completely unaware of what was occurring in the congregation beneath him. “For the pleasures of the flesh are fleeting, but the stain on the soul, lasts an eternity. Man’s carnal lusts and appetites are a reminder of the presence of the unclean influences we encounter every day, and we must resist them.”

Azriel dipped his head, exhaling heavily, and I dared move my hand faster, keeping my arm pressed to my side.

“Good Christian people, I put it to you to renew your faith,” Father Price went on. “Remember the sacrifices of your heavenly father, and that you may make such sacrifices in remembrance of him!”

The congregation around us muttered their agreement, and Azriel hissed out a breath through gritted teeth, his thighs trembling.

Just as the organ began to play again, and I knew we would stand for our next hymn, Azriel’s seed erupted, all over my hand. I pumped him gently as his body twitched, his head still bowed. People began to stand around us, and Azriel tucked himself away. Under the coat, he wrapped a handkerchief around my hand, and that is how we stood to sing the next hymn, the words of which simply dropped from my lips without much thought, as devious delight bloomed within me.

I wiped away what I could, demurely hidden within the folds of my skirt, and slipped my glove back on. I dared a side glance at my husband, who now looked somehow even more aroused, hardly satisfied by what had just occurred in the middle of a church.

I was distracted for the rest of the service, unbearable heat between my thighs, desperate to return home and indulge in my husband’s body a little more. I was more than aware of how mere weeks ago I had hated him, I had perhaps even feared him, but now when I looked at him, his handsome face and those startling blue eyes, I desired him, I craved his presence.

I deeply feared that I truly was falling in love with him.

Snow lay ankle deep when we emerged from the church, and the night air was bone-chilling. Azriel ushered me quickly back to our waiting carriage, calling back hasty Christmas greetings as they were sent in our direction. But my husband did not stop, pulling me along and helping me up and out of the wind.

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