Page 45 of Beloved Beast

“I…can’t…” she wailed, exhausted.

“Yes, you can.” His voice was demanding, rough and husky. “You are a passionate woman. Show me how much.”

She’d never seen this side of Luke before today. The Beast of Charlwood. Oh, heaven help her, it made him more attractive. More desirable. “Oh…oh…” It hit her with the force of a storm. Dark colors swam in her vision as she reached her peak. With two hard thrusts, he pulled out, moaning behind her. She grasped the basin to stay upright. Glancing over her shoulder she watched as he cleaned himself with his handkerchief and tucked his shaft into his trousers.

Moments later she was swept up into his arms and Luke carried her to the bedroom. Setting her down, he slowly removed their clothes then laid her gently in the bed, climbing in behind her. Turning on her side, he curled around her, his cool body a soothing balm after their wild intercourse. “Relax, sleep. I will stay here with you. When you wake, if you wish, I will make love to you. Slow, purposeful, until you melt around me. Give you undivided attention. See to your pleasure. Then we will sleep some more. Tomorrow is soon enough for further discussion. Know this: I care for you. Deeply. Devil’s hell, I more than care. I absolutely adore you. Sleep now.”

See to her pleasure? He’d given her much already. She was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. As Gillian drifted off, it came to her he did not say he loved her. He was holding himself back for the reasons he explained at the dinner table. For the rest of their time together she would make it her assignment to convince him otherwise.

* * * *

During the night, Gillian stirred and found Luke still held her close. By the time she came fully awake, he had slipped on a condom, laid her leg across his hip, and entered her from behind exactly where they lay. With each deep, languid thrust, his hands caressed her skin while he nuzzled and kissed her neck. Cupping her breasts, he pinched her erect nipples, causing another hot wave of desire to cover her. She joined his rhythm, moving in a slow, sensual dance like their waltz earlier in the parlor. Her peak was sudden and sharp, and Luke’s followed a moment later. Exhausted once again, she drifted off into slumber with him still hard inside her.

Next she woke, the sun had risen and Luke was not in bed. Stretching and yawning, she brought the covers up to her chin and sighed. The intimacy they shared had definitely moved beyond a casual affair. Emotions were involved on both sides as much as he may deny it to himself.

During his narrative yesterday his emotions ran the gambit from bitterness, elation, heartbreak, and hope. When he spoke of his late wife, Gillian heard the love in his voice, observed his face softening at the recollections. His eyes filled with moisture while relating the events of his marriage. For a brief moment, she experienced a sharp stab of jealousy but shook it away. In fact, she was glad to learn Luke was capable of such a deep, passionate love. This was quite a change from his dissolute Viscount Ravenswood past, which he did not paint in a good light. Also, she understood his doubts about the future and appreciated the honesty.

But when he spoke of the black cat that became his companion, Gillian could not hold back her tears any longer nor her feelings. How could she leave this man? There must be a way they could be together. Determined to move forward, she threw aside the covers, dressed, and then quickly freshened up before heading downstairs.

After checking the parlor, she found Luke in the kitchen. He must have heard her moving about, for already there were fresh eggs fried in the large cast iron skillet along with the bacon. Hugging him from behind as she often did, he turned and she smiled warmly. “Good morning.”

“It certainly is. Coffee or tea?” he asked.

“I think tea. I’ll make it. I am becoming quite skilled. I will also do the toast.”

Luke turned his attention to the food. “That’s my girl.”

Oh. Her heart thumped like mad in her chest, and he turned and winked at her, which meant he knew she was pleased and a little excited at his reply. Hiding responses from this man would not be easy, close to impossible.

They were soon sitting at the table and eating. It had been such a long time since she had fresh eggs and bacon. Well, except for at Luke’s flat, which she then promptly threw up when she was told the news about Otto. Suddenly, the chime sounded at the front entrance.

“Where’s your wig and glasses?” he asked.

“The parlor.”

He clasped her hand and they both quietly moved down the hall. “Ask who it is,” he whispered.

“Righty-o.” Clearing her throat, she asked in a loud voice, “Who is it?”

“Telegram for Miss McKinnon.”

Luke pulled the knife out of his boot, stood against the wall, and nodded. “Just a moment, please.” Gillian ran to the parlor and affixed the wig and glasses then returned to the door, opening it slightly.

It was a young lad in his late teens, she guessed. He passed her a thick envelope. “I’m to wait and see if there will be reply forthcoming.”

Gillian took the envelope. “One moment.” She closed the door, slid the bolt, and then handed the correspondence to Luke. They both hurried to the kitchen.

“What did the messenger look like?” Luke asked as he tore open the envelope.

“Tall, thin, red hair, and lots of freckles…”

“One of Fred’s lads,” Once he scanned the pages, he reached in his trouser pocket and gave her a couple of shillings. “Tell him to return in two hours sharp. No delay. There will be a response.”

As Gillian hurried down the hall, a feeling of foreboding clutched her insides. She opened the door a crack, passed the boy the money, and told him to return in two hours. After ensuring the door was securely locked, she tore off the wig and glasses as she headed to the kitchen. Luke was sitting at the table, reading.

She slid into the chair across from him. “What is it? What’s happened?”

Luke frowned slightly. “It looks as though we will have to move up the date of your departure.”