Page 85 of The Sound of Seduction
Stan,
Your appointment to ambassador is a solemn trust, requiring steadfast loyalty, prudence, and wisdom, all of which you have proven to possess in abundance. Consider this not only a duty but a privilege; to serve our people and uphold the honor of our House on foreign soil is among the noblest of callings.
Be assured that, as you fulfill this charge, my faith in your judgment and character is unwavering. May your efforts abroad bring distinction to our name and strength to our ties with England. You make me proud, son.
Prince Ferdinand
She moved further into the space, her skirts brushing against the polished wood floor with a faint rustle. Stan couldn’t take hiseyes off her as her eyes jumped and her brow furrowed. The glow of the lamp softened her, lighting the edges of her golden blonde hair and casting gentle shadows along the form of her neck. The chamber was too bland for her, yet she transformed it just by being here.
“You’re staying in London?” she nearly croaked, swallowing visibly.
“Yes.”
For a moment, she remained silent and so many expressions washed over her face that Stan thought he couldn’t possibly follow the thoughts she had. But then, she smiled. It was one of those illuminating Wendy-smiles that could brighten the depths of the universe with her lovely glow alone.
“I imagined your bed differently,” she said, eyeing the large four-post bed.
“How so?” He tried to keep his voice steady but felt it almost cracking from the nerves. Like a green boy. The urge to touch her, to keep her within reach, stirred with aching persistence.
“Smaller.” She wrinkled her nose most adorably and looked around. “The walls are just white. The furniture is elegant but it’s all so… practical.”
“Clinical?”
“Yes!”
“And why is that a bad thing,NurseWendy? Clinical is your métier.”
“Because this is your home. Your private space. It should be cozy.” She crossed her arms and hugged herself.
“It’s still new. I only moved in this week.” Stan closed the distance to her. “I’m hoping you’ll put your feminine touch on the room. You can choose any wallpaper, any lamp shades, anything you like as long you’ll agree to make this cozywith me.”
She paused. “But it’syourhome.”
“I was hoping it would be ours. Our bedchamber. Our house.”
“At the new embassy?”
“Yes, I’m the ambassador. It’s mine.” She furrowed her brows, but he didn’t want to talk about the embassy this evening. “Wendy,” he murmured, his voice catching slightly before he managed to steady it. “It’ll be ours.”
She turned, her gaze sweeping the understated elegance of his sanctuary one last time before it settled on him. Her lips parted, her cheeks pinkened—not with embarrassment but something unspoken that made his chest constrict. Slowly, he crossed the space between them, his boots sounding faintly against the floorboards until he stood mere inches away. Lifting his hands, he curved them around her waist, marveling for the hundredth time at how perfectly she fit there.
Her softness pressed into his palms, and when he gazed down at her, she was already looking up, her eyes brighter than any lamplight.
“You’re looking at me like that again,” she said. Her words were quiet, yet the way she spoke unmoored him entirely.
“How do I look at you, Wendy?” he asked, his voice low, savoring the shape of her name as it lingered in the space between them.
“Like you’re trying to memorize me,” she replied earnestly, her pink lips curling in the faintest smile. She inclined her head, her auburn lashes dark against her skin.
“I am,” he admitted without hesitation. He moved a step closer, feeling the warmth of her body through the folds of her gown. “I want to remember everything about us.”
Her gasp beckoned him closer. He lowered his head, brushing his lips to hers in a kiss so tentative that her sigh felt like a reward.
She welcomed him and the kiss deepened slowly, each movement reverent, a prayer pressed across her mouth. When her fingers slid up to touch the lapels of his coat, he dipped his head further, coaxing her closer against him as the sweetness of her scent clouded his senses.
Her hands did something to him. They were timid yet deliberate, gripping the edge of his coat before sliding the heavy fabric down his shoulders. It pooled at his feet, unheeded. His fingers worked on their own, finding the lace and buttons at the back of her gown, loosening each until the garment shifted, giving way under his touch. With each layer he removed, her breathing quickened—a soft, rhythmic reminder that she trusted him. When the last piece fell away, revealing her in nothing more than her simple chemise, he thought he might lose all his carefully tended composure.
Tonight would be special. It would set the tone for their future together.
