Upon a Midnight Dream (London Fairy Tales #1)(24)

Lifting a rakish brow, he bowed crisply, beautifully in front of her, his entire presence leaning ever so slightly in the air and returning back to his full stance. And then with the grace of hundreds of years of breeding helped her to her seat but not before bestowing a kiss upon her hand.

“My lady,” His words lingered on the word my—warmth radiated through Rosalind’s body until she thought she may promptly faint out of her seat as he took a chair next to her.

“Are you well?” Stefan asked.

“What? Yes?” Rosalind answered the affirmative; in all honesty, her eyes had been so thoroughly trained on his broad shoulders that she hadn’t heard a thing. Ironic, since she had punished him earlier today for being guilty of a similar crime.

Feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment, Rosalind looked down at the table. The need to escape and break the spell he so powerfully wielded over her was almost suffocating.

“Hmm, it seems my punishment is appropriate then.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Rosalind feigned a weak smile and took a sip of wine. There wasn’t enough wine in all of Europe to make her nerves wither away. Why hadn’t she taken to brandy?

“I mean—,” Stefan said as he moved to his seat closer to hers. Lovely, they were apparently dining casual. At this rate, he would have her jumping over the table just to get the madness over with. Perhaps a chandelier would fall on her head? “—that you punished me soundly, or so you thought, for not paying attention to you when you were speaking. Alas, can you blame me, sweet Rose? For I was imagining how my hands would feel all over your body. How the nectar of your mouth would taste…I imagine you were thinking similar things when you entered the room, and by the blush on your cheeks, I can see that I’m right. So, truly, it is only fair, sweetheart.”

“Fair, hah!” Rosalind reached for her wine again, but Stefan pushed it out of her reach.

“Tsk, tsk, wouldn’t want you to be foxed during the lesson.”

The man had a point. No telling how many liberties she would allow him when she wasn’t in her right mind.

With a sigh, she leaned back against the firm chair. “So, this lesson, is it starting now?”

His rich laughter filled the room. Excitement jumped through her. “Believe me, Rose. You shall know when the lesson is to start.”

With that, cook and Mary brought out the food. Stefan was wonderful conversation, telling her tales of his life in India. And Rosalind found herself wanting nothing more than to relax in his presence, but every so often he would smile and the candlelight would catch on his face. Or his leg would somehow manage to touch hers. And once, he leaned over and wiped a bit of desert from her face. She could have died from lust-filled mortification. In fact, it wouldn’t have surprised her at all if she would have exploded.

But it was as if he wasn’t affected at all! He just continued to relax and tell stories as if it was the most natural thing ever to be so familiar with her. It was driving her mad. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could take it.

“And then,” Stefan said scooting his chair closer. “Banana ran into the maharajahs tent and stole as many pieces of fruit as his little hands could carry. He took all types of fruit. Apples, oranges, pomegranates. Say, have you had a pomegranate before?”

“No,” Considering Rosalind’s wine was getting monitored by Stefan, she took only a sip and waited.

Stefan grinned and leaned in, she could smell the wine on his breath as he continued his tale. “They say pomegranates are the fruit of love. I say it’s the fruit of lust. You see they have these tiny seeds.” He reached out for her hand and opened it in his. “You put them in your hand like this, as many as you can and then you eat them. Each seed has it’s own delicious flavor that pops in your mouth. It quite makes my mouth water when I think on that delicious flavor rolling around my tongue.”

Rosalind let out a sigh, as Stefan pulled her out of her chair and flush against his body.

Ripe. She was ripe for him. Wanting him, needing him. Any more innuendos and she would freely ruin herself just for a taste of his exotic kiss.

“Lesson three,” Stefan’s lips said against Rosalind’s.

“What’s lesson three?”

His warm breath tangled with hers as his lips just barely touched onto hers. His teeth tugged her bottom lip as he nibbled.

“Mmm, better than pomegranates,” he murmured against her lips again. “Now off to bed with you.”

In a daze, Rosalind shook her head. “What? I don’t understand, what’s lesson three?” And why was her cursed body shaking so much?

Stefan laughed and looked to the ceiling. “Unsated desire, my dear. That shall be your third and final lesson for the night. Sweet dreams, my Rose.”

Curse words that she only heard mumbled by the servants and her father blared like a horn in her head.

She couldn’t very well kiss him! That would mean he was winning during this whole wooing business! But in her current state? Well in her current state, she was already imagining what his skin would feel like against hers.

“Fine.” Voice shaky, she did a small curtsy and nearly tripped on her skirts as she ran up the stairs and slammed the door. So much for trying to have a good night's sleep. What she wouldn’t give for one of those sleeping spells now!