By the Bay Ch. 03

But this wasn't the time. He could hear the bustling downstairs and he didn't want anything to be hurried. He wanted to take his time, to let her get used to him before taking her lips under his, parting them, and sliding home.

He shivered as he let her go, and watched with heated eyes as she walked past him to the stairs.

*

Madam Ruth was younger than he'd imagined her to be. Either that, or age had treated her well. Seated before him was a blonde beauty, one he would've estimated to be no more than ten years older than himself.

Her hair was pinned away from her face, and fell down her back in neat curls. Wisps of the golden locks curled against the sides of her breasts, making the swell of the globes more pronounced against her tight evening gown. Her lips were a startling rouge red, and above her lip was a tiny beauty mark that reminded him of a little girl that used to work for his mother back home.

He relaxed in his seat as he listened partially to her speaking about the island, and all the places and people he should visit before he left. His mind vaguely registered something about a church, a town square… then she exited the kitchen and his attention was encapsulated by her.

Her eyes were downcast again, and he could've groaned his disappointment. The long tendrils of her hair were bound into a tighter bun than usual, and her she'd taken on a serious expression. He supposed she had to look her best for the Madam who'd employed her.

But when she came to stand beside him to clear his plates…

Anita's knees wobbled when she felt warm heat briefly caressing her waist. The plates in her hands shook, and her gaze flitted accusingly towards him. In response, he gave her his best roguish smile.

The room felt rather warm all of a sudden. Anita gathered the cups and plates as quickly as possible and scurried to the kitchen to hand them to Nanthini to wash. When she walked back out, she was mindful not to get too near the Duke. She hadn't expected him to touch her, but after their encounter outside the library, she didn't know what to expect of him anymore. He'd called her beautiful, was all she could think. And his touch had been so… sensual.

She knew she should be shocked by his boldness, even outraged, but she would be lying if she said she didn't like it. The look in his eyes earlier that evening had been a mirror of a burning flame. The way his fingers had caressed her cheek had made her feel like she could trust him to be gentle with her. But did she want his attentions, even over her best judgment?

You're beautiful.

Tiny goosepimples broke out on her skin when she remembered the words he'd whispered to her. It had slid over her like rippling water, stroking her body and making it come alive. She trembled just thinking about it, then told herself that she could not just make decisions without thinking about it. If she were to be with this man, she had to consider what it would mean to Meera, to her job as a maid, and mostly, to herself.

Yes, she needed to think. She told herself she'll do it that night whilst cocooned in a steamy bathtub.

*

When Madam Ruth's fingers found his knee under the table for the third time, he excused himself to use the water closet. He was just a little irked, for as dinner wore on, the woman's invitation had resounded around the table like a siren. He'd seen countless licking of lips, flipping of hair, groping of kneecaps and he was sick of it. So he excused himself for a few minutes to gather the tolerance needed to get through the rest of the evening.

When he returned to the dining room, the squirrel maid told him that the Madam had retired to the sitting room. Squaring his shoulders, he made for the sitting room, promising himself that he would give her another half hour before he made up a headache and returned to the library. However, when he entered the library, what he saw made him take a step back in shock.

She was lounging on the settee, one lace clad leg thrown over another. Her dress was thrown over the table, and she was donned only a – what was it called? – a corset. As he watched, she stood and sauntered towards him. He was appalled more than ever to find that there was only a thin strip of cloth shielding his gaze from her sex.

Run, run, run, his mind told him. But he couldn't seem to catch a breath, much less move his muscles. She slithered against him, her hands entwining around his neck, her voice purring something unintelligible in his ear. She smelled of somewhat fruity, and he wasn't sure why he found that distinctly repulsive.

"Uh, Madam…" he began, but she cut him off by placing her index finger over his lips.

"Shh," she said. "Call me Ruth, my Duke. Only Ruth." Then she began undoing the buttons on his shirt.

A choked noise from the hallway caught his attention and he looked over his shoulder, trying to still the invading fingers from entering the sanctity of his shirt.

He knew, even before turning, that it would be her.

True enough, Anita stood about six feet away from him, shock making her eyes wide. For once, without him making her, she stared straight into his eyes for more than ten seconds without flinching. Then the tray in her hands trembled and she turned to walk away quickly.

"Don't pay her any attention, lovely," Madam Ruth said, her painted fingernails turning his head back to her. But his attention was still with the shock-ridden girl. He had to go to her. He had to set her straight. He didn't want this woman.

Jay peeled the Madam off him, giving her his best smile and telling her that he had to attend to a matter of utter importance. He could see the hurt in her eyes, and placed a kiss on her cheek for good measure before turning away from her.

He left her staring at him as he followed Anita back to the kitchen.

*

Since she didn't know that she was being followed, Anita set the silver tray on the counter with unsteady hands and took deep, settling breaths. All she could see was the Madam with her dress undone and crawling all over the duke. A sting to her heart caught her by surprise, as did the flood of tears that rose to her eyes.

Why did she feel so utterly betrayed? What had she expected from a white man? He might call her beautiful, even acted like he cared for her, but that didn't mean he was interested in her for anything more than… sex.

She'd just swiped at a tear when she heard him clearing his throat behind her. She turned all too quickly, not wanting to believe that he'd really left Madam's embrace to come after her. But there he was, with his shirt still unbuttoned and his broad shoulders blocking the doorway. She hoped her eyes weren't becoming puffy as they usually did when she cried. She didn't want to let this man know that she was a little fond of him.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, her voice hoarse. "I shouldn't have interrupted you."

Jay crossed his arms over his chest and stared, amazed at the woman in front of him. Her eyes were downcast again, and he couldn't gauge her reaction to what she'd seen.

"No," he said slowly. "I'm actually pretty glad that you did."

Anita started. He was glad? Why was he glad? Oh, she was so confused! One moment he called her beautiful, and the next, he had the Madam half naked and in his arms. One moment he made her feel so special, and the next, like some cheap, second-rate good. She needed to think. Somewhere away from this man, where she couldn't feel his gaze on her, or smell him, or…

"Anita?"

"Sir?"

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm glad?"

Her eyes skimmed over him, then returned to the floor. "Um, all right. Why are you glad?"

"Because you saved me from that wanton woman." A corner of his lips tilted upward. "I'd been trying to think of a way to convey my disinterest, but she hadn't been picking up on the signs at all. Thank god you came in and gave me a leeway to leave, if not I would've probably had the longest shower in history, trying to get the smell of her off my skin."

"Oh." So he hadn't wanted to bed Madam Ruth?

There was a moment of silence as Anita internalized that statement.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm not interested in her?"

All right, she would. "Why aren't you interested in her?"

He leaned against the doorjamb, his voice deepening. "Because she's nothing compared to you." Her eyes met his, and he could tell she was trying desperately to understand. He took a step toward her. "Every time she flicked at her hair through dinner, I thought about yours. About how I can never decide if your hair is black or brown. Then she would stare straight at me and lick her lips, and I would think how sweetly curved yours are. She'd bat her eyelashes at me, and I would wonder about the way your eyes change colors with your mood." He shook his head. "She's in no position to compete with you, sweetheart."

Her chest felt tight. If she hadn't felt attractive before, she did so now. She was also sure that her face had heated because of his words. How could he stand in front of her, calm and unaffected, while she felt like she was caught in an inferno? She was so confused; everything was muddled. What was he saying? What did he want from her?

Jay had to strain to hear her words. "W-what're you saying?"

He smiled. "You really don't know, do you?"

She shook her head. "I just want to know…"

He took another step towards her and she pressed her back tightly against the counter.

"You want to know?"

Her voice grew softer, if that were humanly possible. "I want to know what you want from me."

He took another step forward until he stood directly in front of her. Her eyes were slightly red-rimmed and she looked like she was going to cry.

"Would you, now, sweetheart?" he asked her just as softly, a smile flirting with his lips. He reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. He felt the shiver run through her body as though it was his own.

"I would-."

His lips covered hers so quickly that she didn't have time to move away even if she'd wanted to. Her eyes were wide, staring into his, as she felt the unusual, but not uncomfortable slide of his lips against hers. Her palms came up instinctively to push him away but he deepened the kiss, and the friction of his lips against hers became delicious, almost exquisite, chipping away at her apprehensions. Why should she not do this? she asked herself. She was twenty-three and unmarried. A spinster in the village. The duke would probably be the only man who'd ever touch her. Why should she resist him when she didn't want to?

If she were being extremely honest with herself, she'd realize that this was what she thought about when she had time to herself during the day. But she hadn't known then that his touch, his kiss would be this sinful, but she gladly let go of her girlish fantasies as she learned more about it firsthand.

She could not help but sigh into his mouth when his thumbs gently stroked her jawline. Her eyes fluttered closed as he melded his body with hers, trapping her against the counter. Her palms moved up to curve about his neck, holding on to him for the journey he was taking her on.

And then, his tongue slid into her mouth and all awareness left her body. She let out a low whimper when an arrow of desire sprang from their fused lips and shot through the heart of her femininity. A sinful feeling was curling in her belly, and every time he flicked his tongue against hers, she felt it wind tighter. The feeling was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. She loved it. She loved his hands on her, she loved his smell, she loved his lips, she loved his kiss. Gods, she wanted more.

Jay groaned when he felt her tongue slide shyly to duel with his. His hands dropped from her cheeks to her waist and he lifted her effortlessly onto the counter. In that new position, he continued to taste every inch of her delectable mouth, glorying in her uninhibited responses.

When it was imperative that they both breathe, he pulled away slightly to run his teeth over the fullness of her bottom lip. Then he placed small, moist kisses on her lips, chuckling when she leaned forward for more.

"That's what I want," he whispered between kisses, remembering that he was supposed to answer her question. Her eyes slid open. They were dazed, as were his, and had turned a startling silver-blue color. He felt himself reacting to the undisguised lust in her eyes, and hoped that his trousers would hold.

"You want it, too," he said, his fingers working her hair loose. Her eyes closed once again as he threaded his fingers through it. He thought heard a purr.

"Yes." It was a whisper, but it was her own. There was a pleasant, irresistible hum in her blood. His hands were working magic on her scalp, and his lips never left hers. The taste of him lingered on her lips, heady and addictive. But even as the shivers of passion stole through her body, she knew there was more to all of this, other than kissing.

Her fingers were tugging on his hair in a silent entreaty for more. Her breath was warm on his lips, and he couldn't think clearly. All he wanted to do was pull her dress up over her hips and take her on the counter as she moaned in his ear, plunging deeper, deeper, until she screamed. The almost-animalistic thought shook him, and when her fingernails dug into his neck, the pinprick of pain nearly made him snap.

"Do you know what you do to me, Anita?" he murmured against her lips, grabbing both her hands and holding them still. Her eyes remained closed as she shook her head. He guided her hand to his heart, letting her feel the intensity of its beat.

"You make me forget everything that's been bred into me from birth, sweetheart. You make me crazy."

He saw a small smile appear on her lips and let her hand go.

"Now, is that amusing to you?"

She shook her head. "It feels like a dream," she said, then corrected herself. "No, I've never even dreamt that any man would say that to me. No man's ever wanted me before. It's so new. I never…I just… thank you."

He smiled as he rested his forehead against hers. "Then men around here must be both stupid and blind, Anita. It's nothing but their loss, since I have you now."

Since I have you now.

He stroked her cheek before cupping it and sipping at her lips again. His tongue skimmed back and forth until hers curled over his. Then his teeth gently rasped her tongue, and she could do nothing but whimper with desire. If, a few minutes ago, anyone had told her that such a pleasure existed in the world, she would never have believed them. Now she was aching for it, wanted more of it. Her arms made to curl tighter around his neck, and she moaned in protest when he gently disentangled her arms from him.

"Slowly, baby," he said, and she trembled from the endearment. "I want you to think about this, about us, and I'll see you in the morning."

Before she could say anything, he pressed one last kiss to her wet lips before pulling back, setting her on the floor and strode from the room.

Anita watched him leave, feeling an emptiness she'd never felt before. There was a tingle on her lips, and she knew that they were probably swollen from his kisses. She raised two fingers to them. Yes, definitely swollen.

But the slight pain didn't stop her from smiling like an idiot as she cleared the tray of whiskey, locked the house, bathed, and went to bed.

*

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<3

Lily.