Page 70 of Heart of a Witch
In the lobby, I stopped in front of a mirror and slicked back a lock of my hair that had curled on my forehead. I looked myself over one last time before heading to the carriage. I stopped Adeline before climbing inside. She brushed down her apron.
“If Corbin comes back before me, tell him to go straight to his room. Father Shaw wishes to talk to him, and I’d prefer to be here when he does.”
She nodded in understanding. She’d been working for us for six years and knew how quickly a talk could escalate into something else. It had been years since any of his punishments, but I didn’t trust him not to act out, especially when he was this grave looking.
“Be careful, sir.”
I caught a snowflake in my gloved hand. “Make sure the fire’s lit for when I return.”
“When will you be back?”
I looked up at the sky. I honestly had no idea. “It depends. Hopefully tomorrow morning, but we’ll see.”
She nodded, and I climbed inside, blowing out a fogged breath. I rested my head back against the cushion of the seat, imagining my evening with Victoria playing out. It didn’t take long for my dick to get hard. It was those fuck-me eyes and glances over her shoulder that got me. I loved the way she challenged me, and damn if she wasn’t so smart. I opened my eyes. I hated how she had this effect on me. I just needed to fuck her once, then I’d stop thinking about her all the time.
The carriage stopped, and I pushed my erection toward my belt before I stepped out. She emerged from her doorway, dressed in black and white. Ruffled white covered her arms, reaching up to a collar where a cameo black broach pinned the front together. Around her waist was a black corset, used as a belt of sorts, cinching above where her skirt billowed out. Her black hair fell poker-straight down her chest, her dark-purple painted lips contrasting her dress. “Hello, love.”
Her lips curved upward. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
I brushed down my burgundy tailcoat, holding my cane in one hand. “Are you ready for the night of your life?”
“I don’t have any expectations, considering our previous outings, so yes.” She pushed past me and climbed into the carriage, refusing my helping hand.
I smirked and climbed in behind her. “Our previous outings haven’t been official courtships,” I said, defending myself. I glanced at the sides of her dress. “No snakes tonight?”
“Why?” She arched a dark eyebrow. “Afraid?”
“Honestly, a little.”
She leaned back, suppressing a grin. “No snakes tonight.”
Less than an hour later, we arrived. She stretched when the carriage gruelled to a stop. “This better be worth my aching back.”
I opened the door and helped her out. “This is our family cabin, but I come for the view mostly.”
She walked out to where the trees dropped off, clearing the view of a crystal lake and its reflection of pinpricked stars glistening like diamonds against an indigo canvas. The forest stretched into a sea of greens and reds, out to the snow-capped mountains towering into the horizon. Snow drifted down, icing the trees and frosting the leaves carpeting the ground. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“It’s my favorite place,” I admitted.
“I’m sure you’ve brought many women up here to bed, but it’ll take more than a pretty view for that.”
My stomach knotted. I didn’t want to tell her she was the first person I’d brought up here. “I ordered a fire lit, and some food and wine inside.”
She looked back at the log cabin and angled her head. “Good. It feels more like winter than autumn.”
She climbed the steps made from logs, holding onto the carved railing until she reached the door. The entrance was dimly illuminated by a hanging oil lamp. “I guess being rich has its advantages.”
“Just a few.”
She didn’t need to turn for me to know she rolled her eyes. She pushed open the door and gasped, although she tried to mask it as a yawn. I stepped in behind her, breathing in the woody, smoked air. I’d missed it there. Corbin and I would come when we were kids, with Sandra. It was one of the few places where we felt relaxed and free. Father used it to stay in when we went hunting but seldom came anymore.
She ran her pointed nails along the beam in the middle of the room, which pillared to the ceiling. She stopped in front of the fire, and I smiled. They’d left everything as I’d ordered, and more. A rose, grown to perfection, stood alone in a vase on the oak table. Next to it sat a silver platter with oysters, cheeses, fruitcake, and bread from the town’s bakery.
I opened the bottle of wine and poured us each a small glass. She eyed the piano in the corner, the corner of her lip curving.
“Do you play?” I asked.
“I do.”
