Ravenwood(68)

Caleb collapsed against her, laving at the broken skin of her neck. She felt wetness and wondered idly if it was saliva or blood. Truthfully, she didn’t care. She ran her fingers over the indentations her teeth had made in Caleb’s neck, feeling the divots in his skin where she’d left marks that would surely bruise up. He pressed his lips against her throat, then her jaw, and then, finally, her mouth. He kissed her softly and lethargically and she made a low sound of approval deep in her throat.

Caleb pulled back and she stared up at him, her eyes meeting his. She should feel exposed, awkward, or nervous. Her nightgown was under her arms, her housecoat tangled beneath her. His pants were open and his member lay against her sex almost innocently - lazy in its position. She smiled at him.

“I only meant to apologize if I offended you,” she said inanely.

His lips quirked in a smile. “I only meant to tell you no offense was taken.”

Elinore rocked her hips slightly, feeling his member twitch against her. She wanted to apologize daily if this was the response. Caleb sighed, his eyes fluttering shut and he leaned over her, pressing his forehead to hers.

“I’m tired.”

“Then you should go to sleep.”

He pulled back. “Will you come with me?”

Elinore threaded her fingers through his hair, deciding it was indeed as soft as she imagined it would be. Would she go with him? What would the staff think if she was found in the morning in Caleb’s bed instead of her own? Would they notice? Would they care? Did she?

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

Her legs were a little wobbly when she stood and she suddenly felt the need to straighten her nightgown. She had a fit of giggling as it fell back around her ankles and she tried to right her housecoat. Caleb’s hand was strong and firm on her elbow.

“Are you all right?”

He looked so earnest and worried, she smiled. “Very.” Her cheeks hurt from smiling. She was unaccountably happy. Caleb fixed his trousers and she couldn’t take her eyes off him as he did and then kept them focused on him as he bent over to gather his accounting books and set them back on the desk. She would never look the same way at that desk again. She trailed her fingers over the sharp corner of the edge as Caleb righted his ledgers. He seemed to pause for a moment and then held his hand out for hers, as though he were afraid she would not take it. She slid her fingers into his hand, feeling his skin against hers. She felt her heart beat double-time for a moment and her stomach fluttered, knowing what their hands had just been doing. He grinned at her, as though he could hear her heart beat.

Caleb led her quietly through the house and she realized that he could move soundlessly when he wanted to. His footsteps made nary a noise on the tread of the stairs as they climbed. She tried to be as quiet, but her own footfalls were loud, almost clumsy. They reached his room, several doors from hers, and he let go of her hand to light some candles. She paused just inside the door, peering around, trying to learn what she could of him from his space. It was rather spartan. He had a large four-post bed with dark colored bed-clothes and only two pillows. The curtains over his window were of the same dark fabric as the bed. He had a desk and, by the looks of the papers and inkwells spread out, he used it often enough. There was a small bookshelf along the wall, its contents haphazardly stored and stacked. The spines were all facing out, but some books lay flat and others stood upright. She squinted and, even in the near dark, could make out some titles were upside down. She couldn’t help but take a few steps closer, bending her head slightly toward the shelf, trying to read the titles.

More mythology and other-wordly fiction. She paused as she read one title.

“Bram Stoker?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

Caleb came up behind her, ringing his arms around her waist and she shivered. It was so familiar and wonderful. His body was a hot mass against hers and she marveled at it. “That surprises you?”

“You never mentioned you were interested in the supernatural.”

He made a low, ‘hmmm’ sound against her ear, the timbre of it making the shell of her ear twitch. “Will you come to bed?”

Dear heaven that sounded so illicit. Was she ruined now? Was this what it meant to be ruined? She didn’t know. She didn’t feel ruined. From what she’d heard, perhaps she should have felt like it had been an ugly thing, a tainted thing. If anything, she felt the complete opposite. Elinore felt light, happy and giddy. She felt alive. Caleb turned away from her, holding her fingers lightly and led her to his bed. She bit her lip staring down at it. This was where he slept, where Caleb would be at his most vulnerable. Now she’d seen it. Now she knew where it was. She was going to share it with him. He stood behind her and slipped his hands under her housecoat, easing it off her shoulders. Was she expected to take her nightgown off too? Was that what women did? Elinore didn’t know. She heard the rustle of fabric behind her and she glanced over her shoulder to see Caleb taking off his clothes and she hurriedly looked away and then had another fit of giggling at the absurdity of it.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that men’s egos are terribly sensitive and fragile? Giggling while one is disrobing is quite distressing.”

She spun around to face him; her hand flew to her mouth in dismay. “Oh no! No, that’s not it at all! You’re incredibly…” her eyes darted down his naked body, “virile! Robust! And muscular!” She saw his jaw twitching, lips quirking and realized he was teasing her. She exhaled in relief. “You’re teasing me,” she said, needing the confirmation.