Authors: Karyn Gerrard
In between finishing up his breakfast, he answered a few questions regarding Philomena’s desire to take a bath. He offered to bring the tub to the kitchen and even assist her in filling it. Her dazzling smile thanks enough. He ran his last bit of bread through the egg yolk on his plate, wiped his mouth on the napkin, stood, and headed toward the door.
“Professor Hornsby. Happy birthday.”
That’s right. His thirtieth birthday. Turning to face her, he gave a slight bow. “Many thanks, Miss McGrattan.”
He sauntered into the hall, his step a little more jaunty than usual. A happy birthday indeed.
Phil didn’t usually clean a room while wearing a shift; however, she did not have much choice. With only two gowns in her current possession, soiling one with kitchen grease was not desirable. The room lay in complete disarray. A thorough clean-up would take days, but Phil wanted the place organized, especially if she were to labor here preparing meals.
After removing the rubbish from the floor, she washed the dishes, at least the ones that were salvageable. The professor stated he did not wish any lunch. She helped herself to a plate of bread and cheese, then immediately got to work preparing the beef stew. Tomorrow, she would roast the chicken, which should feed them for a few meals at the very least.
Phil forgot how much she enjoyed cooking. She’d not done much of it lately as she employed a cook at The Starling Club. Years ago, she’d given up all hope of ever having her own home. For a week she could make believe she was lady of the house. Well, perhaps not “lady” as such, but at least she could pretend the kitchen was her domain. Why not indulge in a fantasy? She scrubbed the counter with a little more vigor.
A gruff woof startled her from her chore. Phil whirled around. One of the dogs stood in the middle of the kitchen, its head cocked. “Ah. I believe you’re Justinian. I noticed the gray in your fur has a deeper shade than your mother’s. Other than that, it’s rather hard to tell you apart unless I lift your tail. Well, I suppose being younger you stand a little taller, don’t you, lad?”
Justinian answered with a woof and a nod of his head. Phil could not help but laugh, as if the beast understood her. Holding out her hand, she allowed the dog to sniff it. “I am not the enemy. I’m happy to make your acquaintance.” She spoke in a calm tone. The canine rubbed his head against her in a gesture of acceptance. “Well. Looking for affection. I wonder if your master is looking for the same. What did he say? ‘Gentle when stroked.’ Let’s see if that applies to you, my handsome boy.”
She did not have to reach down to pet him. The animal was enormous, a canine giant, and the fur wiry, but supple to the touch. “Do you like cheese, I wonder?” She snatched a piece from her lunch plate and held it out for him. With a quick twitch of his nose, Justinian nibbled it gently from her hand.
A cough from the direction of the entrance caused her to jump. There stood the professor, his face bright and his beautiful blue eyes glittering with emotion. He gripped the handle of the wooden tub. Bloody hell, how much did he hear?
* * * *
Philomena stood as a vision in her semi-transparent shift, every luscious curve apparent. Her breasts were stunning and the nipples clearly visible through the sheer material, the peaks pushing against the cloth. How he ached to touch her, to stroke her breasts, and feel those hard nubs between his fingers.
He heard every word spoken to Justinian. At this moment, he envied the dog. His gaze moved down her body, taking in the sensual curve of her hip and the small shadow of black hair between her legs. He admired the sight, approving of the goddess before him.
“I…I…I…” Good God, he stuttered like a green lad. He swallowed hard.
Try again, you fool.
“I brought the tub. I can help you fill it if you like.”
Philomena did not cover herself, but placed a hand on her hip while the other continued to pet Justinian. “Thank you. I’ll let you know if I need your assistance.” She gave him a brief, sweet smile, enough to cause his insides to dip and roll once again. “I could not very well clean with one of my gowns on. I only have the two with me. I suppose I could have attempted it naked.”
A sensual vision of her nude on her hands and knees scrubbing the floor with a slow, sensual motion, while her breasts swayed with each pull and drag of the cloth caused a potent stab of lust to shoot through him. He dropped the tub, his mouth going dry. Words failed him. Did she tease him because he stood before her gawking as a simpleton might?
Philomena stepped away from the dog and faced him. “Do you like what you see?” The tone of her voice did not mock, nor tease, in fact it sounded deadly serious.
“I do indeed.”
She trailed her hand down his chest then lingered at the waistband of his trousers. The stroke of her fingers across his stomach caused his muscles to tighten and shudder.
“You are solidly built. I wonder if something else is?” Her expression held what he supposed could be desire. Hard to know, as no woman ever gazed at him with such concentration or such…heat. Philomena brushed by his semi-erect prick, causing it to harden further. She cupped him between his legs and a groan of yearning escaped him. “Hard and solid. My, how potent.”A squeeze of his cock was all it took. Spence groaned and shuddered as he came in his trousers. Wave after wave of mortification covered him as he turned from her, embarrassed to the depths of his marrow. He should leave, but his shaky legs would not move. His breathing became uneven, and he could not catch his breath. Finally, his limbs snapped into action, and he sprinted for the door.
“Wait, Spencer. Please don’t go.” Her words were softly spoken. Philomena came up behind him and embraced him tight, her full breasts pressed against his back. “Do not be ashamed,” she murmured. “Completely expected and understandable. I should not have touched you in such an intimate way. I could not help myself. The way you looked at me…In the past men lusted after me, but you showed much more than base carnal need. It moved and aroused me in ways I am not used to feeling. I wanted to touch you, to feel you in my hand. I have never reached for a man in such a way before. I know that sounds bloody mad, but it’s true….” Her voice caught. Philomena exhaled. “You will learn better control as you gain more knowledge. It is nothing to be humiliated about. You had a natural reaction, and I’m extremely flattered.”
She nuzzled his back, her warmth comforting. When she clutched his chest, he laid one of his hands on top of hers. “My inexperience is quite obvious,” he answered, trying for levity but failing as his voice shook with emotion.
“I can assist you with that, Spencer. We have the week before us. Let us take this journey together.”
Her words were sincere, of that he had no doubt. The offer tempted him. Something nagged and twisted his insides, however. He was a lanky, awkward looking beast, why would such a splendid woman want to be bothered with him? Would she return to London and share her adventure with others, laughing at his premature ejaculation and discomfited bearing? Old insecurities died hard; they clung stubbornly to one’s soul. Perhaps this would be one way to banish them once and for all. “I must go. I need to…” He exhaled a shaky breath. Why fight this? “Very well, Miss McGrattan. If you have things to teach me, I am not averse to learning.”
She gave him a tight hug and stepped away. He mourned the loss of her comforting affection. “Please, call me Phil. May I call you Spence? Your friends referred to you as such.”
“Yes, if you wish.”
Spence hurried from the room without looking back. As soon as he was out of her sight, he ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Justinian followed on his heels.
Concentrating on his research the rest of the afternoon proved impossible. Spence’s mind wavered back and forth between feeling mortified at his loss of control or imagining Phil lounging naked in the tub, the soap traversing every curve of her body.
He gazed out the window. A few snowflakes tumbled from the gray sky. Phil was correct about the impending nasty weather. The skies appeared gloomy indeed. He planned to remain at this isolated place until early spring, then reveal his findings to the British Museum. If all went well, he would ultimately present his research to the history department of Oxford University with hopes of convincing them to introduce the subject matter to the curriculum with him teaching the class. While school held many horrors for him through the years, he did find immense satisfaction in the education itself. Although he possessed an interest in the study of Greek and Latin, he believed Oxford relied too much on it.
Spence used to disparage his fellow classmates--and his two older brothers for that matter--for the time they wasted chasing after women with the sole purpose of lifting their skirts. He sniffed in disdain at them all. For he had a higher calling, the pursuit of knowledge and understanding far loftier than the hunt for sex.
“Just wait, Spence, old stick. One day you will be cunny-struck, mark my words!”
His oldest brother, Harrison, and heir to the dukedom, had declared. Spence cringed. How tasteless. But did Harry speak the truth? All a woman had to do was brush her fingers across his prick and he shuddered into a mass of pathetic ingenuousness.
As soon as he’d left Phil in the kitchen, he ran to his room, stripped down, then washed himself thoroughly. The evidence of his lack of control stained his small clothes and trousers. They soaked in the basin while he changed into fresh attire. Last night Phil commented he did not like someone handling his possessions. How astute of her. He didn’t. His own father called him “peculiar” and that had been said with affection.
Frankly, he thought he’d be far more uncomfortable having a strange woman in the house. He didn’t count the old housekeeper as he barely saw her from one day to the next. Spence looked after himself, his room, and even washed his own clothes because he did not want anyone handling them.
Something else occupied his thoughts all afternoon. The shocking fact he agreed to allow Phil to seduce him. He agreed to
sex.
Perhaps he was as his brother delicately put, struck by pussy or whatever crass term men called it. Allowing her to touch him more intimately than she already did would require a good deal of trust on his part.
Another thing that surprised him: Phil claiming she’d not been with a man for a few years. Phil also said she’d not touched a man like that before. He had no idea what a prostitute did or did not do with her customers, but assumed the women initiated the act. Perhaps not. A picture filled his mind, of Phil on a bed with her legs spread, a bored look on her face while a man grunted on top of her. He shook the disturbing vision from his mind. Would she wear the same expression on her face while he thrust into her? Yes, old insecurities die hard indeed.
A steady knock at the door and Phil poked her head in. “Dinner is served, Spence.”
She spoke with warmth, and hearing his name on her lush lips caused his insides to tumble in arousal. Justinian lifted his head and gave her a friendly and welcoming woof. She’d made friends with his pet. Astounding.
“My handsome lad.” She smiled.
“Are you talking to me or Justinian? I assume you mean the dog.”
Her gaze swept upward and locked with his. “The both of you, of course.”
“Now I know you lie.” He smiled.
She shook her head. “I have not lied to you ever, Spence. I never will.” Her tone was firm and determined. His heart banged in his chest with a fierce beat.
Spence followed her to the dining room where they ate the delicious stew and made small talk. He even partook of a second helping. Phil cleared away the dishes and placed a covered platter in front of him. “What is this?” he asked.
She lifted the cover. In the center of the plate was a large candle surrounded by petite frosted cakes. She struck a match and lit the wick.
“Happy birthday, Spence! Make a wish! I would have baked you a cake, but I have not attempted baking in such a long time I’m sure it would not have turned out at all. Besides, with the cleaning, preparing the stew, my bath, well--there was no bloody time.” Phil waved her arm toward the table. “The cakes were included in your food order. Not sure what they are.”
He was genuinely moved by her gesture. Without thinking, he clasped her hand and squeezed it, then lifted it to his lips, to kiss it warmly. Touching her was a never-ending delight. Leaning forward, he blew and snuffed out the candle. Why not make a wish?
Pray, let it be so.
Phil clapped with enthusiasm.
“I believe Mrs. Brickell had a sweet tooth. I have never seen these before.” He picked one up and bit into it. Pound cake with raspberry jam in the center covered with a rich butter frosting, quite sinful. He held it out to her. Would she feed from his hand? An intimate act to be sure.
Phil gave him a sweet smile that curled his toes. She leaned in and nibbled, her tongue darting out to lick his finger. The thrilling sensation almost caused him to lose his hold on the cake.
“Delicious. I found a bottle of German white wine in the root cellar. Shall we open it in celebration of your birthday?” She passed him the bottle and the corkscrew. “We can lounge before the fire as Justinian and Theodora do.”
He nodded and glanced at the fireplace. A few cushions and a blanket were arranged before the hearth.
They settled in among the pillows. Spence poured the wine and passed her a glass. Phil raised it and gave him a hearty “Happy Birthday.” Smiling, he clinked his goblet against hers and took a sip. As they drank and ate the cakes in silence, Spence couldn’t tear his eyes from her and found the quiet contemplation between them soothing and reassuring. Every now and then she would meet his gaze, while she continued to nibble on the cake. The logs snapped and crackled; the fire casted a golden glow over them. He caught a whiff of lavender.
Must be her soap, very alluring.
“I cannot remember when I have enjoyed such a pleasant birthday. Thank you, Phil.”
“Do you often celebrate special occasions by yourself?” she asked.