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ELIZABETH
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IT WAS JASON WHO CAME on Friday to pick me up.
He and Harriet had returned from Ireland just a few days before, Jason’s sister, Ennis, in tow. For the time being, he said, Ennis would stay at the tinselhouse with them.
I didn’t mind, of course. Until I saw her.
Ennis was an eyeful: deep blue eyes, small, elegant nose, full lips. Tall, slender, with auburn hair pulled away from her face with a headband. With her resonant voice and brilliant smile, she was bursting with a vitality and energy that affected everyone in her proximity.
Ennis was an interior decorator. She also painted, made pottery, had a voice that would make angels weep and played several instruments.
The tinselhouse was filled with proof of Ennis’s presence, her book here and her tea mug there; her sweater over the sofa, her laptop on the dining table. Her chatter, her laughter, her perfume. She always needed to be around someone: her brother, Harriet, me, Brian, easy in any company and comfortable in any conversation. Still, I’d say she preferred Brian’s presence.
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“I HOPE YOU DON’T MIND I invited Ennis to stay here,” Brian said once we were alone in his room.
“Of course not,” I said, not completely sincere. As if it would make any difference if I did mind. Her brother and sister-in-law lived here. Where else would she stay? “How long is she going to stay?”
“She decided to move here.”
I almost dropped the glass of water I held. “What?”
He shook his head, laughing. “Not here. To Copper Ridge. She’ll stay with us only until she finds a place for herself. I told her not to hurry.”
I bet she wouldn’t.
But when Brian scooped me up and carried me to his bathroom, I forgot all about Ennis and her plans. The bathroom was illuminated by dozens of candles and the tub filled with water, foamy from orange peel scented bath foam. A bottle of champagne stood in an ice bucket beside it, along with two flute glasses.
We slowly undressed each other, sharing small, fluttery kisses.
“I missed you,” Brian whispered onto my lips, his tongue gently probing into my mouth.
“I missed you too,” I murmured, letting him deeper in.
“Show me how much.”
I didn’t know if Brian had any particular demonstration in mind, but I had one. I gently broke the kiss and moved my lips to his neck, nuzzling it, inhaling his masculine scent, sweet, slightly sweaty and musky.
Further down to the smooth skin of his chest, soft at the surface and hard underneath.
Even further down, passing his flat stomach.
My lips and tongue traced the thin, dark hairline that ran from his belly button toward his groin.
I pulled his briefs down and his magnificent erection sprang free. Hard as steel and soft as velvet. I kissed the head of his penis, licking the small opening on its tip. God, he smelled and tasted so good: salty, tangy, delicious.
He pulled a towel from the handle and tossed it on the floor. I knelt on it and, grabbing his buttocks with my hands for support, slowly took him in. First the head, swollen and red with desire, and then, little by little more and more, until half of his shaft was lodged inside my mouth.
His cock swelled, preventing me from taking more of him.
Brian was careful not to thrust too deep. His fingers stroked my hair and my face, but he didn’t try to set the pace, leaving it to me.
Inexperienced, I relied on my instincts, licking, sucking and kissing him. I felt him harden even more, and it made me crazy with female pride. Brian loved what I was doing to him.
“Honey, stop. I’m too close,” he murmured, and cupping my head, pulled out. I didn’t mind him coming this way, but I obeyed, nonetheless. I wanted him inside me.
Brian knelt behind me and lowered me on the floor. I heard him rummaging through his pants pockets for a condom, tearing the wrapping and rolling it on. His hands gripped my hips. In one swift movement, he was inside me to the hilt.
I cried out in almost unbearable pleasure. Warmth soared through me, rushing to a single spot deep in my womb. Hands cradling my breasts, fingers rubbing my nipples, Brian took me hard and brought me to a shattering climax after less than a dozen fierce thrusts. His orgasm followed immediately after mine, long and powerful.
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SOMETIME AFTER, BRIAN scooped me into his arms and lowered us in the warm, fragrant water. He settled behind me. I leaned against his chest and closed my eyes.
He kissed the top of my head. “Champagne, Miss Chatwin?”
“Yes, please,” I said lazily.
He filled two glasses and passed me one. I took a small sip. “Dom Pérignon in the bathtub. How decadent.” I said.
“I forgot caviar.”
“Good. I hate it,” I said, my eyes still closed.
His fingers grabbed my chin, gently turning my head. His lips brushed against mine. “I was thinking about something. You still have some of your stuff in the green room. You’re not going to sleep there anymore. Why don’t we bring it to my room?”
I threw him a look from under my lashes. “Brian Canagan, are you asking me to move in?”
He chuckled. “You moved in the moment you put your toothbrush in my holder, but if you’d like to make it official, here is your chance. You’re keeping only your hair-torturing equipment in your room anyway.”
“And my nightwear.”
“And that,” he said, bending to give me a tender kiss, “you may leave there. You won’t need it.”
Well, it wasn’t a marriage proposal, I thought happily, but it was a step forward, nonetheless.
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“MAY I MIX PLEASURE with business?” I asked much later, after another delicious orgasm we’d shared right there in the tub.
“You may not. Particularly if it involves your assistant. By the way, I expected him to accompany you here this weekend.”
“He’s waiting for a shipment of stained glass from Vienna. The work’s picked up. He’s working over the weekend so that I can stay with you.”
He placed his chin on the top of my head. “Ah. Our noble Duke of Alba. Are you sure he’s not trying to win you over?”
“By making it possible for me to spend more time here? No, I don’t think so.”
“He’s trying to win you over with his kindness. It’s an old trick.”
Oh, god. “You’re jealous, Brian,” I said, amused. “That’s the problem. And unfair.”
I thought he would deny it, but he just let out a frustrated breath and said, “Yes, I am. Werewolves are possessive and territorial and prone to jealousy. But Tel-Urughs are three times worse. No way he’d give up so easily.” He tightened his arms around me and pulled me closer to his chest. “I respect him, but I don’t trust him when it comes to you.”
“But you trust my feelings for you. Nothing else matters.”
“I do, cariad,” he said softly, a touch of resignation in his voice. He kissed the top of my head. “That’s why I can let you go back to Rosenthal every Sunday and stay sane till your next visit.”
I understood him better than he might think. He didn’t have a choice but to trust me. Christian’s sentiments were not a figment of Brian’s imagination. They might not be dead serious or long lasting, but they were genuine.
Brian trusted me but didn’t trust himself. I wished I could help him somehow, but he was the only one who could deal with it. When he was ready.
I’d waited for these precious moments alone with Brian. I wouldn’t allow Christian’s shadow to come between us. “Brian,” I said, “I have to ask you about something.”
“What is it, cariad?” he said and kissed my shoulder.
It had occurred to me a few days ago that we could hire someone else to help us further. Lucy the daughter of my godmother Abbie, was a third-year architecture student. She’d phoned me a few days before and expressed her desire to work with me on the Baker Block renovation over the summer as an intern. “Do you mind if she joined us? She says you don’t need to pay her. And she could stay with me.”
“You don’t need to ask me for such things. Bring her in, of course. And we’d pay her; she doesn’t need to work for free.”
“It’ll be a great experience for her.”
“She’ll learn from two top experts,” Brian said, planting a soft kiss on my neck. Lord, I loved his lips on any part of me.
“Well thank you,” I said, “even if it’s a bit of an exaggeration. So far, the Baker Block team has one master and one apprentice, who is grateful for the opportunity to learn from him.”
Brian shifted, and I scorched myself for bringing Christian back.
“He’s that good, isn’t he?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
And if that wasn’t enough, another unsettling thought flashed through my mind. “Oh, god. What if Eloise falls in love with him?”
To my surprise, Brian came to Christian’s defense. “I think we established that His Grace is an old-school gentleman. He wouldn’t seduce a young girl just for the sake of it.”
No, he wouldn’t have. Christian Enescu, I was sure of it, knew pain and loss and wouldn’t take anyone’s feelings lightly.
Brian and Christian were more similar than either of them would ever admit. Call it the vardanni intuition, but I knew they would be good friends one day.