The Tender Days of May (The Belle House Book 1) Page 24

  “That’s my girl,” he grunted. “Tell me you missed me.” He looked down at her beautiful sex, the brown hair slicked with wetness, then lifted his eyes to hers.

  “I did,” May exhaled, her body arched with pleasure.

  “May,” he whispered her name as if it was a mantra and pushed deeper into her, his erection as if on fire, shiny with her juices.

  She moaned louder, and he kept going deeper. Faster. Every thrust soothed the madness that burnt inside of her, his member—the exorcist of her carnal desires. His hips moved violently between her thighs, and her sex nudged towards him, trying to satisfy the throbbing that drove her to madness, the spot that he was penetrating with such insistence.

  The urge.

  The desire.

  It all blended in their embrace, flesh against flesh, sex against sex, their bodies like two pendulums crashing into each other until they erupted in synced cries, a deep and a high one, again, and again, gradually subsiding, and Lord Ashbee collapsed into her arms.

  They panted heavily, their bodies still locked in a love-embrace for some time until he stirred again.

  “Water,” she exhaled in a whisper. “Please.”

  He smiled and kissed her dry lips.

  “Water, of course.” He pulled away slowly, raised himself on his arms, looked in her eyes. And for a moment, he thought he would give anything in the world to have these eyes look only at him.

  —————

  May took the rest of his clothes off.

  “You did miss me…” Lord Ashbee chuckled.

  “I want to see you,” she said, and he let her. They lay on the bed in silence for a while, caressing each other, overcome with tenderness, and the longing for each other’s touch.

  She told him of her family, the parents that had passed away when she was little. Her brother, the only close person she had. She told him of the troubles, the business deal gone bad, and how her brother sent her into hiding, for protection, the Belle House—the most unlikely refuge.

  He told her about his last year and how he tried to find her, omitting the despair and darkest moments. What did it matter when she was in his arms now?

  “We didn’t have to wait for a year, you know,” he said, caressing her shoulder.

  “We didn’t wait. The opportunity presented itself, and I was more than happy to take it.”

  “Don’t tell me that you didn’t miss me enough to seek out a meeting. There must be something else. Are you afraid? For your reputation, perhaps?” he smiled.

  “As Lady Mildred says, one with money has the luxury of not carrying about one’s reputation.”

  He laughed.

  “Lady Mildred is a character.”

  “You also taught me well enough to know better.”

  “Then, what is it?”

  “I have no illusions, Ray. I know what you wanted from me when we made the contract, why you visited me. All the time that you didn’t know where else to spend—and there I was, in a small room in a brothel, no different from the ladies of the house, except more educated, more well-read, and”—she smirked—“a virgin, only have known one man, you.”

  “You are wrong to think that I do things out of boredom. You definitely weren’t one. You entered the deal with a sense of loathing. But you found out you enjoyed it. On the other hand, I thought of it as an adventure, a curious project, but realized that there was more to it than beauty and sex.”

  “Ray, I know you better than you know yourself. That’s why I didn’t seek the meeting. That last time we were together, you made an offer that made it clear what you wanted and what I was to you.”

  Ah, he offered to bring Eliza into their relationship! He hadn’t forgotten, he couldn’t—the one thing that he regretted, though he always said that regret was the sign of a weak man.

  May wrapped a sheet around her torso and folded her legs to sit as close to Lord Ashbee as possible.

  He looked away.

  “You are wrong, May,” he said, trying to figure out how to explain it to her. “That’s not what it—”

  “Shhh,” she stopped him. “I do have to tell you something. So you can understand why I didn’t want to seek you out. I was drawn to you before the contract. You knew it, too. There was something about your eyes that affected me most profoundly. You know it. I’m not the only one.” She smiled nervously.

  He drew his hand to her face and stroked the strands of the hair hanging loose over her shoulders.

  “And when we started seeing each other,”—she drew a soft chuckle—“I was shocked, surprised, and it drew me closer to you. But then you started talking… I learned things about you and life that made me want to know the depth of it all. I was fascinated! Ah! I sound like one of those ladies that told you that a hundred times before.”

  He gazed at her intently without saying a word.

  “I thought it was temporary,” she continued. “I thought it would pass. How foolish I was! The further we went, the more I wanted to possess you, to have a hold on you. Silly! I know! You hate these words. They are everything you run away from. And I don’t mean to scare you. Don’t smirk. Back then, I didn’t understand what it was. It came to me slowly, and when you offered to bring another woman, it pained me.”

  “May,” he said softly.

  “Let me finish, Ray. Only when I left did I understand that I was deeply in love with you.”

  She smiled and cocked her head, gazing into his eyes. The words seemed to hang in the silence of the night room. He felt his heart expand, fill up his rib cage. Her grey eyes, darker, glistening with the reflection of the light, burnt deep into him as if reaching his darkest corners.

  “I was in love with you, and still am, Ray,” she said quieter. “I love you for what you are. For the beauty and the ugliness in you. For the world that you showed me. For showing me who I am—“

  “May,” he said softly and was about to say something else, but she stopped him.

  “It’s all right, Ray. I don’t need your opinion. I’ve heard it before.” She tried to pull a smile, but it didn’t match her sad eyes. “I don’t say this to burden you with my love, my feelings. Not to possess you, or suffocate you, or limit you, or get something in return. No! I’m just asking you not to hunt me down like you do other women. Let me be. Let me love you the way I do. Tonight. Right now. Don’t take advantage of my feelings. Let’s just be. Tomorrow you’ll go back to your life, and I will go back to mine. But tonight—it’s just you and I. So let me be me.”

  She smiled timidly and leaned over, cupped his face, and kissed him.

  He pulled her away gently and looked into her eyes.

  How many emotions they had in them! So much love! His heart was about to burst. He wanted to say the words that he’d been hiding inside of him all this time, but those were the hardest to say. For him. It would betray everything he made his dogma.

  She stroked his face with the back of her fingers. It was her turn to show him what her inner world was about.

  “My love is not dangerous,” she said softly, caressing his face. “Don’t be afraid. It won’t chase you.”

  She unwrapped the sheet and leaned over to meet his lips, put her arms around him, and enveloped him with all the tenderness that she had for him, slow and careful.

  Lord Ashbee was an expert in pleasure, the bedroom skills that could conquer the senses, and had known many that could take him to ecstasy. But never before did a woman show him with her body not what she could, not what she had to offer, but how much he meant to her. He forgot what it was he taught in bed. This time, it wasn’t about pleasure or getting satisfied. It was about being close, opening up, seeing yourself in someone, and letting that someone touch the deepest corners of your soul.

  He saw May for all she was—his student and teacher, his weakness and strength, his doubt and his deepest desire. It all blended into one woman that melted in his arms, wrapped around him, invaded his every cell, her lips and tongue—dancing around every part
of his body.

  Mary Anne Yvense.

  May.

  His May.

  He was pulled into an emotional tide so deep and overwhelming that it felt like the sweetest opium dream. He took in her body, the caresses of her hands. Her eyes contained all the words that were ever said by the greatest love poets of the world. Never before did he look at any other woman with such awe and admiration. As if she wasn’t a human but a goddess. Even for someone like Lord Ashbee, it was too big of a revelation. But there were a few revelations lately. The feelings that were long forgotten and buried so deep that no amount of pain inflicted could bring them out, no whipping could lash it out, no sorrow could push them to the surface. Who knew that none of that would do the trick? What did—were the simple words. Just a few words she had said, the words so banal that he mocked them as long as he could remember. They now clenched his heart with such strength that he felt alive for the first time in a while.

  It shocked him.

  It pained him.

  It twisted his heart and his mind.

  And it made his hands pull her body even closer to his as if he wanted his body to be part of hers. For never before the words found in him the response that resonated with the same tenderness, the same strength, the same feelings.

  Afterward, they lay on the bed, drained and exhausted but unable to stop the caresses, touching each other. They didn’t know what to say, enjoyed the silence. He buried his face in her hair, closed his eyes, inhaled her scent, every cell of his body stirring awake at the touch of her tender fingers, the touch of May.

  CHAPTER 6

  The next morning, Lord Ashbee was in the greatest of moods. He sat across Charles on the terrace of Lady Mildred’s mansion. The birds rustled in the trees, the lilac blossoms hung in heavy bunches spreading the heavenly scent in the air. The coffee tasted better than at the best coffee houses in London. The colors around seemed brighter than ever before.

  “You seem quite happy this morning.” Charles leered at him. “I don’t see the usual contemptuous smile.”

  “Hm…” Lord Ashbee looked around, marveling at the picturesque view of the country.

  Just a couple of hours ago, he woke up next to May. She was quiet and half-asleep when he slid his hands under the sheets and found her warm skin. He caressed her body, covered it with soft kisses, pulled the sheets down inch by inch until he felt her move and respond to his fingers, opening up to him. And he took her slowly, thrusting into her carefully as if it was her first time, as if every move into her had a deep meaning.

  Now Lord Ahbee’s eyes stared in front of him without seeing anything.

  The recollection!

  Ah!

  May!

  She is back!

  “Are you with me, Ashbee?” Charles chuckled, pulling Lord Ahsbee out of his trance. “Don’t tell me it’s a woman you are thinking about so intensely?”

  Lord Ashbee waved his hand in the air.

  “Oh, no, Ashbee. Don’t tell me it’s James’s sister!” he exclaimed surprised and delighted at his guess and laughed loudly.

  “Maybe,” Lord Ashbee’s mouth curled into a smile.

  “I knew it!” Charles cried out. “You devil! You always find your way to the prettiest creations. Though, I should warn you”—he looked at his friend with a twinkle in his eyes—“Lord Ramsay proposed to her just days ago. He wasn’t at the gathering. Tied up with some errands in London, they say.”

  “Nonsense!” Lord Ashbee waved him off, though his smile faded. “She is not going to marry him.”

  “I heard quite the contrary.”

  “Impossible.”

  “I’m telling you. She is going to accept his proposal.”

  “Rumors.”

  “Ha! I admire your self-confidence, Ashbee,” Charles said, then picked up his coffee cup. “Though it’s not a rumor. She told me so herself. But no need for you to worry. There are plenty of pretty women in this country.” And he took a sip with a loud slurp as Lord Ashbee sat dumbfounded by the news.

  —————

  Can’t be!

  She couldn’t possibly marry someone after all she had told him!

  Lord Ashbee felt betrayed.

  Tricked.

  Fooled.

  Stung.

  More than anything, there was a dreadful feeling in his heart, the same he had felt when May had vanished a year ago.

  He took a carriage to Sir Yvense’s estate. He wanted to confront May.

  Marrying Lord Ramsay! She knew it all along while she so cleverly charmed him the night before with her professing love to him.

  Lord Ashbee had a sudden desire to leave, to disappear. Just like she did. Then realized that when one was trying to hurt others, he often ended up hurting himself. And he felt hurt.

  What a joke! He couldn’t be possibly bothered by whatever would happen. The thought made him laugh. Was she playing games? Trying to punish him?

  Ah! What a clever creature!

  Yet, Lord Ashbee could not get rid of bitterness that was eating him out from within.

  He arrived at the estate, was led to the reception room, and stood there impatiently, waiting for May.

  “Ray!” she exclaimed with a surprised smile at seeing him so shortly after his departure and paused, without coming close.

  He turned to give her a long stare.

  “Lord Ramsay? Really?” His eyes burrowed into her with mockery, inquiry, fury.

  She tried to wave it off with another smile.

  “Ah! Yes! He proposed.”

  “And?”

  “And what, Ray? You want to know whether I accepted. I probably will. One should never marry for love but for convenience. You said so once.”

  His heart turned upside down.

  She went to the table and poured herself brandy. It was noon, but what was life if not for occasional early celebration?

  “Are you doing this to hurt me?” he asked. “Or is there any other reason you are giving yourself to a man that you have no interest in?”

  “Ray,” she paused, then turned to look at him, collecting her thoughts. “I told you about my feelings last night. They didn’t change since then.” She smiled. “I didn’t expect anything in return. Nor do I need your opinion. I know it. You told me so a long time ago, and I am fine with it.”

  She walked around him, not coming close, and he turned to watch her. He could tell she was nervous. It took an effort for her to speak. But he didn’t interrupt.

  “People are different, Ray. You. Me. That’s the beauty of it. Because I couldn’t hold as much spite and darkness as you. And you probably can’t have as much acceptance as me. Acceptance!” She chuckled, but her smile vanished. “You see, you are the one who taught me that. Accept—and the suffering is over. So I did. I accepted myself and my feelings for you, who you are. And it made it easier. I’ve thought about it all this time. I had a year. How many times I thought it was some divine intervention that sent Ada down to the slums. For if it didn’t happen, if I didn’t accept your proposal, I wouldn’t get to know you. That thought scared me! More than the thought of loving you and not being able to be with you. How dull and mediocre my life would be without knowing you! Fate brought you to me and my love for you!”

  Lord Ashbee listened patiently as May walked around slowly as if she was lecturing him.

  “It’s been a year,” she continued. “Nothing changed. My love didn’t run its course, it didn’t disappoint. On the contrary! I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again. You can’t imagine how happy I was to know that you were coming to Southampton. And I am happy now.”

  She smiled and gazed at him with so much tenderness that it was almost painful to him. He felt that she was ripping his heart like a piece of paper. Slowly. Bit by bit.

  “You see,” she went on. “I don’t ask you for anything. I don’t need anything. But I will always be happy to see you. You said that marriage is a matter of convenience, and love is disposable. Perhaps, you ar
e right about the first one. But you were wrong about love. Love is not a disappointment. It is not pain. It is a sense of reason. It is finding reason in the world that doesn’t make sense otherwise. And I don’t need your arguments on this one, Ray,” she said softly. “I know what I want and who I am. I also know what I can and cannot have. And I made peace with it. I will marry Lord Ramsay. He is a good man. And I will always have my love for you.” She looked at him with sadness and love that shone through the smile, but it was not a happy one. “I just hope that you find in your heart whatever it is that soothes it, for that will give your life meaning. I want you to enjoy life like you always do.”

  She smiled and looked away. Then looked at the window, the soft sunshine that glided its rays over the garden, and sighed.

  “How can you smile?” Lord Ashbee swallowed hard and looked away with a smirk. This time the smirk wasn’t a weapon. It was a shield. For his heart ached with so much despair that he couldn’t find the right words. “You haven’t seen me for a year, yet, you were happy. What sense does that make?”

  He looked at her, but she kept gazing out the window without turning around.

  “How can you say you’ll be fine marrying another man while you said you love me?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “If your feelings are so great,” he continued, “how can you stand here and smile while telling me you are going to marry someone else? How can you dance at the party and laugh at the jokes and act happy knowing that you are not going to be with me?”

  She turned around to look at him, and he saw a mist of tears over her eyes. And it sent the sharp pain through his heart.

  “Because I look around, and I see love,” she answered, not taking her eyes off him. “I look inside myself, and I see the same. You look around and see ugliness and burlesque and the lowest in people. To you, everything is a trap. And you don’t even try to look inside yourself.”

  “Because nothing good ever comes out of it,” he said with a strain in his voice.

  “Because you are afraid,” she said louder. “You don’t even try. You put up a wall. You put your true feelings into an iron chest, then put a lock, and sit on it like a soldier. Like you are guarding a fort. Warding off people with your mockery and clever philosophy and cynicism that is your shield. How would you know what change is when you don’t take your guard off, when you are afraid of something new? You said life is curiosity. The biggest enigma is oneself, and that is one thing that you refuse to look into.”