Page 15 of Tempting the Bluestocking
“Rocks?” he asked with a little smirk. “I used to collect those when I was a boy—pebbles and stones. None of them were very remarkable now that I think of it, but you couldn’t have convinced me of that back then.”
“Minerals,” she corrected, her voice taking on that governess-like quality which made his cock react in the most intriguing way. “The sorts that, when broken open, reveal the most stunning crystallized formations on the inside. A friend of mine is a geologist, and during her travels she excavates and sends me samples of her discoveries for my collection.”
“Don’t you ever accompany her on these excavations?”
“Occasionally, though recently her travels have taken her farther from home for longer periods of time. I do not like to leave Aunt Helene for so long, so I’ve settled for living vicariously through Gilly and her letters.”
“Your aunt doesn’t strike me as needing a companion or caretaker,” he said, remembering the sight of the spry woman rushing down the front steps to get off to her villa. The woman appeared to possess the vitality of one half her age.
“No,” Clare agreed. “But I owe her everything. She took us in—my sister, Alice, and I—after we lost both our parents to scarlet fever. She’d been recently widowed, but brought us into her home without hesitation and gave us the best years of her life, raising us as if we were her own. Alice left us to wed a few years ago and never looked back. I believe she thinks herself above us, her being the wife of a baron now and the two of us a scandalous widow and a bluestocking spinster.”
Edward didn’t have to meet this Alice woman to decide he did not like her. The hurt in Clare’s voice told him all that he needed to know. Her sister’s abandonment had dealt quite a blow to herself as well as Helene.
“I’d choose the widow and the bluestocking over the baron any day,” he said, trying to inject a bit of lightness into his tone.
It worked, producing another one of her smiles, and she rolled onto her back, hands folded over her abdomen. “We’ve both come to accept that Alice has her life apart from us. Aunt Helene takes comfort in my presence, so I am happy to remain here with her.”
But what of marriage and a family of your own?
The question nearly fell off the tip of his tongue, but he clamped his lips around it with relentless self-control. He hardly knew this woman, despite their recent intimacy. They were getting on so well, he did not want to ruin it with such talk. As beautiful and vivacious as she was, Edward could imagine that Clare had had a challenging time finding her match. A woman with her blunt tongue, independent streak, and love of science would intimidate a man without the bollocks to accept her being smarter than him. And those who did take an interest in her keen mind seemed lacking in other regards, like her first lover. It was no wonder she spent so much of her time with watches and rocks.
“What else?” he prodded, turning the conversation onto a safer path. “We have watches and geological minerals. What else have you got stashed in that room?”
“Porcelain figurines—Dresden and Sevres specifically. More porcelain from the Orient, tea services and vases and such. Oh, and this doesn’t qualify as a collection, but there is a small conservatory built off the back of the house. It takes up most of the courtyard in place of a garden—another one of Aunt Helene’s extravagant birthday gifts.”
Edward propped himself up on his elbow and gazed down at her, his interest piqued by the mention of her birthday. “You alluded to your aunt’s birthday gifts before. I assume she always makes such a big production of celebrating it.”
Clare snorted. “Always. When Alice and I were girls, she began the tradition of treating our birthdays as some sort of grand holiday. Looking back, I do believe she was doing her best to ensure we did not miss our parents so much on those days. Such times were difficult in the beginning—birthdays, Christmas, New Year’s Eve. Even though it was hardly necessary as we grew older, she persisted. Each year she tries to outdo herself.”
“And what of this year?” he teased, gently tugging a lock of her dark hair. “Has this year’s gift outshone that of your last birthday?”
With a giggle, she turned to face him, snaking a hand around his waist and molding her soft body against his. The arousal he’d been trying to ignore for the past hour became even more urgent.
“Most certainly,” she murmured, winding her hips in a wicked motion that had him pressing even closer. “After all, that hot air balloon ascension lasted a mere hour.”
“Never let it be said that I cannot outlast a hot air balloon,” he murmured against her mouth just before engaging her in a kiss.
She opened to him readily now, hooking one leg over his hip and arching against him in invitation. He palmed her arse and ground against her, enjoying her soft whimpers against his lips at the brush of his cock against her tender, wet inner flesh.
He entered her with ease, groaning into her mouth at the tight, hot clench of her cunny around him. After their first frenzied encounter, he was content to take his time now, gliding in and out of her with slow, languid strokes. He drew it out for as long as he could, eventually rolling her onto her back, then arranging her on her hands and knees, ensuring she knew without question that there was so much more to making love than her first bedmate had shown her. He held back his own climax for as long as he could, bringing her to completion three times and ensuring he put in a more spectacular performance than a bloody hot air balloon. Pulling away from her at the last possible second, he spilled on the sheets, then gathered her into his arms again as she began drifting off to sleep.
As he lay there sinking into slumber himself, it occurred to Edward that if he weren’t careful, he might find himself in a precarious situation. After all, what man could hold a living, breathing flame in his arms and not become consumed? If he allowed it, he could become obsessed with a woman like Clare Cecelia Dunnaby.
“MayI ask you a rather personal question?” Clare asked hours later from across the dining room table.
After they’d awakened, his growling stomach had sent her into a fit of giggles, then prompted her to invite him to stay and dine with her. Since he knew his sister had plans with a friend and her chaperone for the evening, he had no pressing reason to return home. He also had no desire to dine alone, so he had taken her up on her offer.
Retrieving his discarded clothing, he’d put himself together as well as he could manage while she had retreated to her dressing room. Before long they were ensconced in the dining room with several dishes spread out between them and lit tapers casting a warm glow over the intimate settling. She had banished the servants so they could be alone, and they’d been serving themselves from the various offerings filling the table.
They had eaten in companionable silence until now, when Clare’s question had broken through the quiet.
“Of course you can,” he replied.
After all the things she’d revealed about her family and her first unremarkable experience with intercourse, he certainly didn’t feel as if he had the right to hold back. Besides, they were as well acquainted physically as two people could be at this point. What could it hurt to let her know something about him other than the feel of his hands, mouth, and cock?
Pausing with a cluster of peas in her spoon, she glanced up at him, seeming prepared to mince words for the first time since he’d met her. Which could mean only one thing.
“You want to know how I became a courtesan,” he stated, taking the burden of finding the right words off her shoulders.
