Romancing Lady Stone (A School of Gallantry Novella) by Delilah Marvelle Page A

on its own.
    Clutching the folds of her skirt, she noticed an open side entrance leading into the darkness. She hurried out through that door. “Mr. Levin?”
    The crisp, night air frilled the skin beneath her gown with gooseflesh. Her stockinged toes suddenly sunk into icy, thick mud. She groaned, jumped toward the stone path and darted into a barren side garden. Fortunately, it wasn’t freezing outside and the snow was completely melted. “Mr. Levin?” she called out again. “Are you out here?”
    There was no response.
    Oh, God. What if something happened to him?
    The night was remarkably still as a full moon sat high, casting a vibrant white glow across the shadows. Unnerved breaths escaped her, frosting the air as she hurried into the garden past a small stable illuminated by the brightness of the moon. Earthy smells filled her nostrils as horses quietly neighed, some poking out their shadowed heads, acknowledging her presence.
    She glanced around the isolated mossy grounds and large, shadowed trees and paused. A faint, golden glow from the planked crevices of a small wooden bathhouse greeted her.
    She blinked. Was he… bathing ? At this hour ?
    She gripped the fabric of her gown. Pinching her lips, she envisioned his broad back and wet, flexing muscles covered in soap and his black hair dripping and hanging into those green eyes. Given the bulk of his arms that had strained his travelling coat, she was quite certain there was plenty more attached to whatever she could envision. It was time to go.
    Scuffing steps from behind made her snap toward the sound.
    The shadow of a very large man resembling a gorilla emerged from the stables. He staggered and made his way toward her. Slurring something in Russian, he unbuttoned his trousers and shoved the flap of his trousers down. He yanked out a stubby cock.
    Her eyes widened as the hairs on her nape stood on end. She darted straight for the door of the bathhouse. “ Mr. Levin !” She prayed to God he was in that bathhouse. “ Mr. Leviiiiin !”

Upon hearing his name in English through the haze of sleep he had unknowingly succumbed to after a very successful session of masturbation where he’d imagined Lady Stone doing all sorts of things to him, Konstantin sat up, sending a whirling splash of water around the massive wooden tub. He glanced toward the plank door of the bathhouse. The influence of the hot water and the lone candle waving inside the glass-encased lantern had lulled him into a sleep he hadn’t been able to find earlier.
    Had he imagined Lady Stone yelling for him? He’d certainly imagined her yelling beneath him in pleasure a moment ago. He surged to his feet, water streaming from his naked body. Climbing out of the massive tub, which took some effort given its size, he snatched the towel the innkeeper had provided him and got out.
    The door to the bathhouse banged wide open as Lady Stone skidded inside. “ Mr. Levin ! A man…he… help !”
    His heart pounded in utter disbelief as he smacked the towel against his exposed cock. The colder evening air licked his wet skin as he stared wordlessly down at Lady Stone who was almost on top of him.
    She frantically pointed toward a man outside of the bathhouse.
    T he man was urinating.
    The oaf peered at them from over his shoulder and sniffed loudly, finishing his business with an unrefined tug of his trousers. Staggering away, he slurred something in Russian about horses defecating too much and disappeared back into the shadows of the stables.
    Konstantin eyed Lady Stone. “You are safe.”
    Her full breasts rose and fell. “I…I’m so sorry.” She edged back and back, her stockings visibly muddy. She stared at the towel he barely bundled against his lower half and tried to grab the door to close it but kept missing because she was too occupied with looking.
    He officially felt attractive.
    She smacked her hands over her entire face. “I can’t believe you’re—” She jerked toward the narrow