Page 21 of Tempting the Bluestocking
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he replied, flipping open the watch to find its face adorned with a tiny painting of winged cherubs. “I can see why you’d want it for your collection.”
His gaze wandered to the other watches resting on square compartments inside the chest. Brass, gold, and silver shined up at him as if they’d been recently polished, some boasting beaded or metal chatelaines, others adorned with glittering gemstones, and a few appearing quite plain on the surface. She seemed to collect indiscriminately, her collection comprised of both men’s and women’s timepieces.
“I wouldn’t leave the antiquities shop until the proprietor gave it to me for a fair price. I was willing to pay what it was worth, but the man tried to rob me blind. In the end, he was convinced to see things my way.”
Edward chuckled, imagining Clare staring down the antique dealer through her spectacles, her eyes gone cold as ice. She’d probably used her governess tone on him and made him feel three inches tall. The man had likely given her the watch at the price she wanted in an act of self-preservation.
“Congratulations on your triumph,” he said, returning the watch to her and going back to study the others. “You’ve got quite a collection here.”
She waved a hand toward the chest to indicate he was free to touch them. He lifted and examined a simple man’s watch on a black silk ribbon. The watch itself, along with a seal, hung from a medallion comprised of a massive, clear diamond in a gold setting. Another—this one for a woman—hung from a gem-encrusted chatelaine, the stones arranged to look like the wings of butterflies. Some appeared to be decades or centuries old, and he was delighted to discover a sixteenth century clockwatch, a heavy thing comprised of brass to be worn on a chain about the neck.
“These are all so unique,” he said, placing the old clockwatch back into its velvet housing with care. “They must have taken you ages to collect. Which one was your first?”
She took up the plainest watch in the bunch—a simple silver affair with a pattern of scrolls etched on the casing. Flipping it open, she revealed its cracked glass face and tiny sapphires resting where the numbers 12, 3, 6, and 9 would be.
“It isn’t the most beautiful of the lot, or the oldest,” she told him. “But it is my favorite because it belonged to my father.”
She handed him the watch, which he handled with the utmost of care, not wanting to further damage something so important to her.
“Of course it’s the most beautiful,” he said. “That you love it so much makes it so.”
She gave him a soft smile, then started back down at the timepiece. “When my parents died, Alice and I were devastated. We spent those first days clinging to their things and weeping for hours. Alice was partial to one of Mother’s handkerchiefs. It had been used to clean up spilled rose oil—mother’s favorite scent. She’d hold it to her nose and inhale, then collapse into a fit of tears. I found Father’s watch abandoned on the washstand and forgotten when he’d taken ill. He’d knocked it over in a delirious fit of fever, which is how the glass cracked. For months I carried this with me everywhere I went. I even slept with it beneath my pillow. Aunt Helene noticed and offered to have it fixed, but I wouldn’t allow it. I wanted to keep it just the way he’d left it.”
That would explain why this watch was the only imperfect one in the box, the others immaculately cared for.
“I have a collection of my father’s waistcoats in a trunk at home,” Edward told her, putting the watch back in its place. “I’ll never be able to wear them unless I grow a bit rounder in the middle, but … of all his things I latched onto those for some reason. His other things were sold because we needed the money, but Caroline kept one of his snuffboxes, and Jacob selected two of his tiepins. For me, it was too damned hard to part with those waistcoats.”
With a sigh, she edged closer to Edward, reaching out to place a hand on his chest. “I’m sorry. You did not come here for me to draw you into trading sob stories about our fathers. And with your loss being so recent—”
“It’s all right,” he assured her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him. “I’d rather talk about him than let his memory die. And you should feel free to talk to me about anything you wish.”
“Still, I’d rather not ruin our evening with grief.”
He brushed his lips against hers, one hand sliding down toward the curve of her arse. “Then we’ll spend it doing something else.”
“Yes,” she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck and deepening the kiss.
All thought fled his mind and he succumbed to the same intoxicating effect he experienced whenever in Clare’s presence. Nothing else mattered just then; not the inevitability of parting ways, or where he might go from there, or how it would feel to be banished from her life for good. The only thing that mattered just then was the taste of her, the feel of her body against his, and making sure she enjoyed herself as much as she had every other night before now.
He guided her closer to the hearth, where the clutter of their surroundings gave way to the patch of rug enclosed by her furniture. Their lips met again, and he drank from her mouth with a desperate longing, plunging his tongue in to entangle with hers. She clung to him, returning the kiss with an equal fervor.
They began tearing at one another’s clothes, hands moving with swift, clumsy motions. She grunted in frustration against his lips while fumbling with his cravat, so he reached up to help her yank it loose. Tossing the linen aside, she attacked the buttons of his waistcoat while he worked the fastenings down the back of her gown. Garments flew in every direction until they sank to the floor together, completely bared.
Facing one another on their knees they pressed close, mouths meeting and parting, hands roaming. Her fingernails lightly scored his back, then she cupped his buttocks, urging him tighter against her. He dipped his head to seek out a nipple, drawing it into his mouth and sucking with deep pulls until she cried out, back arching to offer more of herself to him. After a while, she braced her hands against his chest, pushing him onto his haunches, then flat on his back. She crawled over him, thighs straddling his and hands braced on either side of his head. She wasn’t wearing her spectacles, so he had a clear view of her eyes, dark blue and clear like the sky just after sunset.
She planted a swift kiss on his lips, then began trailing her way down his body, leaving shivers of delight in her wake. He threaded his fingers in her hair as her tongue circled hotly over his chest, teasing a nipple before she continued her slow path downward. His cock throbbed with anticipation, his entire body going tense as he waited for the first hot stroke of her tongue where he wanted it most.
He gasped when she took him into her mouth without hesitation, dragging her lips down then up his shaft in one fluid motion. Not the first time in the past fortnight she’d fucked him with her mouth, but Edward never ceased to be amazed at how readily she threw herself into passion, always giving as good as she got. He groaned, surging into her mouth with slow thrusts, heat and wetness enveloping him over and over in an excruciatingly slow drag.
“Christ, CeCe,” he groaned, his eyes sliding closed as he gave himself over to ecstasy.
She moaned around him, pausing at his tip to swirl her tongue around his head before taking him in as far as he would go, drawing another hoarse cry from deep within him. He released her hair and reached down to toy with her breasts, gently tugging her nipples as she increased her rhythm, her head bobbing and her lips stroking him. Her breath quickened, low whimpers emitting from her as he pleasured her the only way he could with so much of her body out of his reach.
Taking hold of her face, he drew her off his cock, unable to help a chuckle at the way she glared at him as he fell free of her mouth.
“I wasn’t finished yet,” she grumbled.
Stroking her cheek, he smiled. “I don’t want you to stop, love. I simply envy you for having all the fun. Turn around for me.”
