Page 2 of Monsters in Love

It wasn’t that Lord Ellingboe was sullen, per se, nor did she find him to be particularly stern. More that the Lord was...quiet. Quiet and contemplative, to the degree that one might even go so far as to label him as broody. She knew the earl well enough at that point to be certain such a sobriquet would cause his thick eyebrows to draw together, a swallowed harrumph fighting against the insides of his throat until it was fully consumed. His wife had already been gone for a year when Lillie began her employment, the giant oil painting above the fireplace in the study giving the late countess an impish smile and a challenging look in her eyes, and while Lillie most certainly had witnessed moments of silent reflection that were tinged with an almost palpable grief, she had the suspicion that the earl had simply always been that quiet.

After all, it wasn’t as if he went stomping around the grounds of the manor glaring at all in his path. Lillie found him quite charming, even if he was a bit sullen-seeming. It was true that his smiles were slight, but above the wane uplift of his lips, his grey eyes would sparkle like the sun upon the water beyond the cliffside manor at Chwyllenghd. He might appear taciturn to outsiders, but she knew his voice could be as warm as a hearth after riding in the cold snow. Those who thought Lord Ellingboe dour had simply not been gifted the geniality of his conversation and the rolling rumble of his occasional laughter, and she was quite content to hoard the secret of his charm like a dragon with its trunk of gold.

A new wife would spoil that. In addition to the new lady of the house being tasked with seeing to his Lordship’s needs—a thought that twisted her insides—a new countess would oversee the staff. She might be cruel, Lillie fretted. She might sack everyone and start fresh. You’ll need to start over again with some family with a dreadfully cruel butler and a baby who projectile vomits on every piece of furniture.

She had nearly made it all the way around the desk with her feather duster, stomach in knots, already mentally composing her request for an interview with her new employer when she remembered this was all a figment of her overactive imagination, there was no new countess, and all she had for the basis of this silliness was a widely-read gossip paper in the earl’s study. You’re losing your marbles, old girl.

It was then that Lillie noticed the book. Slightly pulled out, sitting at an angle, as if someone had meant to stuff it into the shelves and aborted their efforts midway through. When she pushed on the spine, however, the book refused to budge. Pulling it out, she examined the dark space between leather-bound volumes, realizing a smaller book had been shoved in behind it, blocking its path.

She had never spent time perusing the titles in the earl’s study. She could read and write, and her juvenile knuckles had borne the sharp sting of a switch from her aunt as she practiced her letters until she had mastered a perfect copperplate. She fancied that one might not even be able to tell she was an employed person from merely her handwriting alone, but still—she didn’t tarry in his Lordship’s study. She had work to do, and she would not abuse the trust he had placed in her by allowing her entry in the first place. She was one of the only members of the household staff who was afforded entry to this most hallowed of spaces. She knew well that a gentleman’s study was as personal as his sleeping quarters, likely more. It was where he came to think, to ruminate and to ponder, where he could shed the upright expectations of a lordship and loosen his cravat.

She had never spent time perusing the titles contained in the dimly lit room, but she had an idea of the vague layout in which the earl kept his collection, and now she had no choice, for neither book seemed to belong on the shelf upon which they’d been haphazardly shoved. An Evening In Gwinnifrith’s Garden. The larger of the two books had a plain front, with the title in a swirly golden script. There was no author listed. Lillie huffed. How was she meant to appropriately shelve the books without the information necessary? Flipping it open, she thought to ascertain the subject and perhaps slip it in with others of the same category.

She gasped at what she saw.

A full-color illustration spanned two pages, depicting an orc on his back, reclining against a mound of cushions. Lord Ellingboe was the very first orc for whom she had ever worked, so it was unsurprising that she immediately compared the earl to the drawing. The conversation that had taken place around the downstairs dinner table once again seemed quite apt, for the orc in the drawing was, in fact, in the process of draining his dragon—across the faces and bare breasts of the several pointed-eared women who knelt around his lower half.

A flip back a page or two showed her another drawing outlining the actions that had taken place before that culmination. The women in the illustration appeared to be elves, at least to her eye. They clustered around the orc, using their hands and mouths to stimulate his pink-tipped cock, the exaggerated size of which was nearly half of the length of one of the women. At least...she thought it was exaggerated. Lillie had to imagine it was enlarged for the artistic effect, for there was no way his Lordship was strapping that down with a mere dressing ring.

She swallowed hard at the sight of one of the elf’s pink tongues, stretched out to catch a bead of moisture from the glistening cock tip, as two of her fellows sucked on the pendulous bollocks beneath while a fourth straddled his Lordship’s chest, his face between her thighs and her eyes closed in bliss. The orc! Not the earl, you daft donkey! A quick flip through the book showed similar illustrations of the same orc in a variety of positions with one or more of the elves. A fast perusal of the second volume showed more of the same.

She couldn’t fathom what these books were doing in Lord Ellingboe’s study, nor where they had come from or who put them there, or what she was meant to do with them now. At length, Lillie decided the safest course of action would be to slide them in exactly where she had found them, taking care to fit the books side-by-side, needing to remove a slender volume of legal practice from the end of the shelf to make them fit. There.

“Where is the blasted thing? This is the second time I’ve dropped it this morning.”

The deep rumble of the earl’s voice made her jump, cheeks heating and thighs clenching, and she spun away from the shelf just in time to see him turning into the now open door. Crossing the room, he graced her with one of his nearly-but-not-quite smiles, picking up the High Tea with a tut.

“This dreadful bit of parchment is like an eel. Do you think that means it ought to be conscripted to the fire or the rubbish, Lillie?”

Lillie swallowed hard, attempting to recover quickly. “I’d think it might be best to send it to the kitchen, in that case, my lord. Dorcas would be tickled pink to find an eel in her pot.” A short scrape of amusement from his throat as he folded the paper back. Heat spread over her cheeks. Lillie knew that beneath her dress, her whole chest was scarlet. “Although, that lot tends to be a bit of a bitter mouthful. Is the Earl seeking his own exploits on the front page?” Another rumble of thunder from his chest, and she wanted to do nothing more than press herself into the deluge.

“Can you even imagine? Whoever this Tea person is, trailing after me, hoping for scandal. Morning tea with Lord Hindbrin and his blasted ferret. Council meetings to discuss the entitlements of the Longtower estate. They’d become so disillusioned with boredom that they’d likely leave London entirely. Actually,” he mused as she giggled, “I’d be doing the whole city a service in that case. They might bestow a dukedom on us, Lillie.”

“Then I’ll be sure to coordinate with the entire staff for the coronation, your grace.” The earl’s chuckle mingled with her own, warm and comfortable, like a plush seat in front of the fire and a nip of brandy, a warmth he only seemed to share with her. “We ought to start throwing parties; at least once a fortnight, I’d think. His Lordship won’t find himself on the front page by taking his tea at eight and retiring by nine. You’re meant to be having clandestine assignations in sculpture gardens around then. I’ll let Gerrold know you’ll be needing all of your trousers tightened through the leg and the blade in your walking stick sharpened for the inevitable duels.”

Lord Ellingboe’s shoulders shook as he laughed, an actual laugh, one that came from his belly, and she knew by then she likely resembled one of the strawberries on the previous evening’s trifle. It was nigh impossible to not imagine him as the orc from that book. She pinched the side of her leg through the skirt of her dress, forcing herself not to look him over like she was ogling a prize stallion at the King’s raceway, but it was quite difficult.

“That sounds utterly exhausting. I’ve changed my mind. Sculpture gardens…what would I do without you, dear girl?” The room was suddenly strangely devoid of air, and she floundered, unable to draw a breath. “You’re not entirely wrong,” he went on after a moment. “This bit on the front page is what I was after. The Viscount of Casselon is an old acquaintance. He’s looking to remarry after—well, a bit of a difficult situation. I’ve no doubt these vultures are following his every move. Well…I’d best let you get back your day, my dear. Don’t let Dorcas know she nearly had an eel. Her demands will become outrageous.”

“My lord,” she dipped her head, but her eyes remained fastened on his, bright and glowing as the corners of his wide mouth turned up in a nearly invisible smile. Saturnine smile, indeed.

When the earl was gone, she slumped against the shelf, eyeing the books again as she turned. She continued the dusting with heat in her cheeks, but once she left the study, Lillie found her feet turning her up the hallway and through the servant’s entrance, skipping down the staircase as quickly as she could. She needed to visit the kitchen and plan the week’s menu with Dorcas and her assistant, needed to ensure the rest of the house was tidied and that the rest of her tasks were done...but the heat ignited by the sight of those books and flamed by the earl himself had caught, and the flame licking between her thighs was one she couldn’t ignore, lest it consumed her.

Her teeth sunk into the cushion of her lower lip, and her eyes fluttered closed at the first stroke of her fingers between her thighs. She tried to imagine Lord Ellingboe stretched out in such a way, being serviced in the same manner as the orc in the book. She wondered how heavy his sac would be against her lips, particularly if she knelt beneath, pushing her mouth up into him. Her fingers quickened in their journey, tight, slick circles, and her hips rocked up against her hand. She would like to be the elf who caught that decadent-looking pearl of fluid with her tongue, but then she’d also not object to being the one who’d straddled his shoulders, his mouth between her thighs. She wondered if his tongue would be as red and seeking as the orc in the illustration.

The thought of him beneath her, the earl, his Lordship! Beneath her, a mere member of the help, of him licking her—her thighs seized and her back arched, and she clenched her teeth through her climax, pulsing against her hand the way the elf in the drawing likely had to the orc she sat astride. It’s an honor to serve in his Lordship’s household. Lillie closed her eyes as her heart pounded, the sound thunderous in her ears, receding slowly as she breathed. She had work to do and no desire to be her own front-page entry on the whisper network of downstairs help.

Far better to extinguish the flame herself before it blazed out of control and return to her work with a clear head, her inappropriate fantasies about the earl pushed into the corner where they belonged, at least for the rest of the day.

Chapter 2

“He takes his morning tea before dressing, with his papers and the daily correspondence. Half a sugar lump and a goodly bit of cream. There’s a standing appointment with Lord Hindbrin every second Thursday at 11 AM. You’ll want to be sure that his Lordship is prepared for—”

“Gerrold,” Lillie sighed, cutting him off. “I’ve worked here for four bloody years. I’m well aware of Lord Hindbrin and his peculiarities. Do you have anything to tell me that I don’t already know? Obviously, no one will take care of the earl as well as you. You don’t need to fret over whether or not you’ll be missed. For how long are you going to be gone, anyway?”

Gerrold was a rigidly upright gentleman of the amphibious persuasion. His smooth skin was the color of moss, and one could easily see up his narrowly slitted nose from the way he held it aloft as if he were avoiding the odour of something vile. He’d been Lord Ellingboe’s valet for two decades, an indispensable member of the household, and he didn’t forget it for a minute. His wide, thin mouth pursed at her words, and Lillie studiously ignored the way his long, slightly webbed fingers stilled at the edge of the tea tray he was preparing as if her words had scandalized him to stone.

He was being sent to the home of Lord Ellingboe’s eldest son, the future Earl of Chwyllenghd, to assess the household and its needs, make suggestions as to where Lord Gannon needed to fill in positions, and assist with the onboarding of those new employees. It was, as Gerrold had loftily told them all, a great honor. She would be left alone in the meantime, filling in as many of his duties as she could, as well as her own, and he was meant to be giving her a high-level rundown of the earl’s schedule, the things she did not see take place behind the closed doors of his chambers. Lillie knew Gerrold took his responsibilities to the earl seriously, but he was acting as if she’d only just arrived that day.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com