from Freddy. He’d said she would never have sex with anyone after he finished with her. She’d worried about that, worried the shadow of him and what he’d done to her would always be right there. And he might have been there for a second or two; but only for a moment, and then she hadn’t thought about him until now.
Freddy had always underestimated her. If there was an afterlife she hoped he’d seen it all, powerless on his side of hell to do a damn thing to take it away from her.
Mary pulled back the drapes, and a blinding blast of light invaded the shady corners of the room.
“Argh!” Miriam flopped her face back into the pillow.
The moments passed. Soft sounds tugged at her to get up, the rustle of Mary’s skirts as she moved, water poured into a bowl, the pitcher placed on the dresser.
She wasn’t going to, she didn’t want to lift her head from the bedding for the rest of the day. No, she wanted to slip back into the cocoon of half sleep and dream, hold onto the delicious traces of pleasure lingering in her body.
And they were delicious. Small aches and a new awareness as the different parts of her told a tale of his touch, their need as they’d come together; the aftermath of muscles that had arched and strained, had contracted and relaxed.
One breath after another caught in the soft downy linen under her mouth. The skin around her lips warmed with each breath, just as it had as she’d panted into his jacket.
She’d clutched him so close, pressed her face into the rough fabric heating it with each gasp as he moved in her, knocking them into the back of the bench with each thrust.
Her teeth bit into the pillowcase; she wanted to do it all again.
“It’s almost noon, m’lady, and you left instructions to be woken.”
Ah yes, this torture was all her own fault. Miriam lifted her head squinting at the too cheerful light. The room was decorated in soft yellow brocades, which now glowed with brilliance as the sun ran its rays across every surface. The oriental wallpaper hugged the room in soft greens, offering climbing vines and bursting pink peonies as a chorus of blue winged birds flew across or nested in the landscape. No carriage bench, no worn leather, no sound of the old grinder rolling down the street as he whispered words of encouragement with every ragged moan she made was there.
“Food, Mary, I need food and hot chocolate.”
“They’re on the way.”
The door to her bedroom opened and the smell of buttery croissants, hot chocolate, and homemade apricot jam sidled into the room making her more than thankful she had hired a French cook with a passion for patisseries. A bed tray was settled over her legs as she knotted back her hair.
“I’ll need my green riding habit laid out, and ask Albert to have one of the gray mares saddled in an hour. Actually, Prancer, saddle Prancer.” She was in the mood for a spirited ride though Hyde Park.
“Yes m’lady.” Mary handed her a black rectangular box. “Mr. James said this came for you midmorning.”
A silver ribbon with a Harrods seal held a small cream envelope against the surface.
Miriam broke the shop seal and turned the envelope over in her hands.
No name.
Opening it, a clean crisp sheet of parchment slid out.
Her finger pressed between the stiff folds and spread it open.
The penmanship was full and sensuous.
I had to follow the cab, make sure you were safe.
Then I found myself unable to sleep with your torn veil sitting heavy on my dresser.
I hope you will accept this in its place.
Your Mechanic
Her heart suddenly beat hard.
Your m echanic .
She opened the box. Inside, the item was wrapped in tissue paper. She tore through it and found a beautiful black veil. Soft lace with a bold design of fern leaves. It would have cost him a small fortune.
An exquisite ripple ran through her. A substantial fortune for a working man. Her hand shook as she pulled it out and held it up. Beautiful. He had
Freddy had always underestimated her. If there was an afterlife she hoped he’d seen it all, powerless on his side of hell to do a damn thing to take it away from her.
Mary pulled back the drapes, and a blinding blast of light invaded the shady corners of the room.
“Argh!” Miriam flopped her face back into the pillow.
The moments passed. Soft sounds tugged at her to get up, the rustle of Mary’s skirts as she moved, water poured into a bowl, the pitcher placed on the dresser.
She wasn’t going to, she didn’t want to lift her head from the bedding for the rest of the day. No, she wanted to slip back into the cocoon of half sleep and dream, hold onto the delicious traces of pleasure lingering in her body.
And they were delicious. Small aches and a new awareness as the different parts of her told a tale of his touch, their need as they’d come together; the aftermath of muscles that had arched and strained, had contracted and relaxed.
One breath after another caught in the soft downy linen under her mouth. The skin around her lips warmed with each breath, just as it had as she’d panted into his jacket.
She’d clutched him so close, pressed her face into the rough fabric heating it with each gasp as he moved in her, knocking them into the back of the bench with each thrust.
Her teeth bit into the pillowcase; she wanted to do it all again.
“It’s almost noon, m’lady, and you left instructions to be woken.”
Ah yes, this torture was all her own fault. Miriam lifted her head squinting at the too cheerful light. The room was decorated in soft yellow brocades, which now glowed with brilliance as the sun ran its rays across every surface. The oriental wallpaper hugged the room in soft greens, offering climbing vines and bursting pink peonies as a chorus of blue winged birds flew across or nested in the landscape. No carriage bench, no worn leather, no sound of the old grinder rolling down the street as he whispered words of encouragement with every ragged moan she made was there.
“Food, Mary, I need food and hot chocolate.”
“They’re on the way.”
The door to her bedroom opened and the smell of buttery croissants, hot chocolate, and homemade apricot jam sidled into the room making her more than thankful she had hired a French cook with a passion for patisseries. A bed tray was settled over her legs as she knotted back her hair.
“I’ll need my green riding habit laid out, and ask Albert to have one of the gray mares saddled in an hour. Actually, Prancer, saddle Prancer.” She was in the mood for a spirited ride though Hyde Park.
“Yes m’lady.” Mary handed her a black rectangular box. “Mr. James said this came for you midmorning.”
A silver ribbon with a Harrods seal held a small cream envelope against the surface.
Miriam broke the shop seal and turned the envelope over in her hands.
No name.
Opening it, a clean crisp sheet of parchment slid out.
Her finger pressed between the stiff folds and spread it open.
The penmanship was full and sensuous.
I had to follow the cab, make sure you were safe.
Then I found myself unable to sleep with your torn veil sitting heavy on my dresser.
I hope you will accept this in its place.
Your Mechanic
Her heart suddenly beat hard.
Your m echanic .
She opened the box. Inside, the item was wrapped in tissue paper. She tore through it and found a beautiful black veil. Soft lace with a bold design of fern leaves. It would have cost him a small fortune.
An exquisite ripple ran through her. A substantial fortune for a working man. Her hand shook as she pulled it out and held it up. Beautiful. He had
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