Page 41 of The Viscount's Daring Cinderella
Yes. She wanted to have dinner with him tonight and many more nights. She longed to be in his presence, feel his discreet glance when he thought she was not looking. Kissing him was so delightful, and she liked that he wanted to kiss her. She liked the way he wanted her.
“I would like that,” Beryl whispered.
He gave her lips one final brush before he walked toward the house, and she was grateful to be alone for a spell. She needed time to gather her thoughts that were racing as much as her heart. Beryl sighed, and at that moment, she did not care about the rules. His allure was too powerful, too enticing. She was at his estate for a few weeks and the longing for more with this man only worsened. No logic or practical inner arguments abated this desire. She wanted him to bring her pleasure again, but it would hardly be in the garden after breakfast. She would see him at dinner tonight. Her skin tingled when she thought about the possibility.
Beryl walked back to the house and went to the tutor room to give the children their lessons. She tried to concentrate, but it was difficult. Her thoughts were filled with his soft lips against hers with that sweet kiss. Time dragged on, and it onlyheightened her excruciating need. As soon as the lessons were completed, Beryl went to her room to prepare for the evening. She called for water to be brought up for her to have a bath. She dressed and went to the drawing room. Theodore was not yet there.
Beryl poured herself a glass of wine, and she had only just taken a sip when he walked through the door. Everything around them seemed to fade as he walked further into the room. She was so aware of him. When he gazed at her, she did not look away.
“I apologize for being late. I was trying to get too much done in a short time. I finally gave up. There is tomorrow.”
Beryl smiled. “The girls and I managed to get a lot done.”
His gaze bore into her, and it sent a shiver down her spine. “Truly?”
Beryl could feel the heat flush her cheeks. “It could have been better if I was not thinking about you.”
Theodore swallowed. “I could say the same. I am sure we are both famished. Shall we?”
He escorted her to the dining room. They did not touch, and Beryl was ever so conscious of the tension-filled air between them. She was starving, but she wondered if she would ever be able to eat a morsel. How could she possibly swallow her food when her mouth was so dry? Beryl took a sip of her wine, and it did not seem to help. She was relieved when Theodore took control of the dinner conversation, and in the end, they had a pleasant meal.
The servants had cleared away their plates, but neither of them seemed to want to move from the table. Theodore had a glass of his signature bourbon and Beryl had the remnants of her wine.
“I presume you play the pianoforte?” It was a rhetorical question.
All the ladies in society learned to play, and they were expected to provide gentlemen with entertainment. Playing an instrument was often the centerpiece of a social evening in one’s drawing room.
“I do,” Beryl replied.
“As do I,” Theodore said.
“I would never have guessed,” Beryl said.
“That the rake’s fingers play over the keys and make melodious music? Come with me,” Theodore commanded.
He led Beryl into a room she had not entered before. It was another drawing room where a large, decorated pianoforte was the central feature. She was pensive, for it brought back memories of her father listening to her play. She was always expected to perform at social gatherings and functions, and she was often complimented on her skills. She was adept at expressing and distinguishing herself.
“Please have a seat.” Theodore pointed to a leather armchair, and Beryl had a seat.
“I know that men do not usually play. I remember my tutor said no self-respecting English gentleman would participate in an instrumental performance, but I always found playing the pianoforte soothing, and I suppose my mother indulged me.”
Theodore became even more intriguing. The pianoforte was closely associated with feminine wiles and charm. Was he trying to charm her?
Theodore sat at the huge, shining black instrument that looked like the sky on a cool summer night. He gave her a wide smile before he lowered his head, and his fingers danced over the keys, coaxing impossibly soothing and amazing melodies from it. He seemed lost as his fingers flew over the keys like a lonely star that fell from the night sky. Every note of that tune was weaved with such beauty that Beryl closed her eyes, and itwas as though she breathed in the music. She let it flow through her.
“Join me,” Theodore beckoned Beryl to sit with him.
Beryl knew the notes and she happily agreed. She sat beside Theodore, and the air was charged between them. The silence was ended by the sweet sound of Theodore’s elegant fingers, and as he ended his stanza, Beryl started hers. Notes swirled around in her head. The black and white keys flashed before her eyes as her fingers responded to the time and rhythm. Her fingers had mastered the piece. She played the instrument’s challenging scales and cords in a way that she did not know her hands could reach. The melody was slow yet mesmerizing. Beryl’s heart pounded faster. When Theodore picked up his stanza, the sound grew louder, and she could feel the vibrations tingling on her skin and reverberating through her core. The louder the melody got, the faster her heart raced as if it wished to drown the sound of the music.
The music consumed Theodore as he progressed through the song until, eventually, he became one with the pianoforte. Beryl imagined the music rushing through his veins while his fingers were flying across the keys. She relished the total experience of seeing, hearing, and feeling its captivating rhythm. It was beyond words. He began pressing the keys with greater force, the hammer thrusting against the instrument strings with more energy, bringing an increased volume until it reached a crescendo. Then there was deep silence.
Theodore stood, and without a word, his powerful hands gripped her waist and swept Beryl off her feet. The feel of his power and strength was tantalizing. Beryl’s senses were scattered as he climbed the stairs to her room. Her head rested on his shoulder and her arms were around his neck. Neither had uttered a word on their journey. Beryl’s heart beat wildly, and she could hear Theodore’s short raspy breath.
Thud.
Finally, the door closed behind them, and Theodore slowly lowered her. As she slid along his body to the floor, she could feel his arousal, and she gasped. He crushed her mouth with an intense desperate hunger, and she returned his kiss with a raw desire that she did not know she possessed. She reached a hand to grasp his hair, threaded through it, and pulled him even closer. Her other hand rested against his chest, and when Theodore groaned, it reverberated through his chest, a shock to her senses.
Beryl was on fire, and it raged in her quivering belly. Theodore began to undress her with urgency, and their tongues intertwined between each piece of garment that was shed. Every touch was a rough promise. The quivering moved from her belly to between her legs where she ached for Theodore’s finger to explore her heat. She desperately wanted … no …neededhim to stroke her sensitive flesh.
