Chapter 19
Faith
I got back to my room an hour later without Brenden seeing. After his pacing and phone conversation on the driveway, he'd marched through the kitchen and disappeared in the direction of the library without noticing anyone.
"Trouble at work," Maria said. She'd seen Brenden's expressions before, and likely recognized this one.
I worried that it might have something to do with Darin and Rachel. Should I have told him already?
I shut the doors on my guest suite and took a deep breath. It was still not my place to interfere in Brenden's life. I was a guest and the most I could do was thank my generous host. I thought about the decadent dessert waiting for him downstairs and I smiled.
Then I noticed flour in my hair. Dried batter was stuck to the front of my shirt and I smelled of caramelized sugar. There was still plenty of time for me to work on my business school projects, but first I needed to shower.
My suite's bathroom had an arched ceiling and a bright chandelier. Three long mirrors in antique frames hung over a long, marble counter. The sink was a raised seashell of delicate glass and made scrubbing my sticky hands feel divine. Then I turned to the shower and gasped.
A wide shower head hung down like a second chandelier. The spray was gentle but soaking and rained down on an open marble circle. There were no walls or curtains, just an altar-like shelf full of elegant and exotic soaps. I stepped under the shower and felt like a goddess.
If only Brenden could see me, I thought.
I cringed under the added layer of impossibility my fantasy had. Then it occurred to me how much more intimate it would be, because Brenden had lost his sight. I knew if he was in the bathroom, his other senses would be searching me out. I'd felt it, the way he inhaled my scent, listened to my movements, and imagined with amazing precision where I was and what I was doing.
The thought distracted me as I lathered the soap over my body.
Then a second thought jarred me out of my daydream—I had nothing to wear to dinner. If I hadn't spent time with Brenden and experienced his heightened senses, I might have been callous enough to think, who cares? I could have worn jeans and a saggy sweater to dinner and not thought twice about it. But I knew Brenden would dress for dinner, and I was certain he would note what I was wearing in his own accurate way.
I finished my shower in a panic and ran into my room just as someone knocked on the door.
"Um, who is it?" I threw on a robe.
"Just me," Maria called.
I opened one door and peeked out. She held up a black dress with tags still dangling.
"I know this is really forward, but I've never worn this dress and I thought it might suit you," Maria said.
I laughed. "You might have read my mind."
Brenden's housekeeper looked relieved. "I know it doesn't really matter what you wear to dinner and it wouldn't really matter to Brenden--"
"It would have felt disrespectful." I took the offered dress. "I didn't pack for anything but room service."
"Well, try it on and let me know if it needs any pinning." She waved me good luck and headed back downstairs.
While I finished getting ready, I wondered if the dress really had been in her closet. Maria had great style but it seemed like such a coincidence. Had she sent Jasper to pick it up? Either way, the little black dress fit perfectly and I finally felt ready for dinner with Brenden.
He was waiting in the hall when I finally found my way downstairs. "Lilac. New perfume but still lilac." Brenden smiled and held out his hand.
"It's just shampoo," I said.
The black dress had a low-dipping neckline and I was suddenly self-conscious. Again, the sense that Brenden could somehow feel what I was wearing and doing despite not being able to see made me shy. I lightly put my hand in his and wondered if he could feel my leaping pulse.
His smile warmed. "I'm so glad you could join me."
"This was really too generous, too much." I started babbling. "I really shouldn't have accepted."
Brenden reached out one finger and found my lips with surprising accuracy. "Dinner with you is repayment enough."
His finger caressed my lips gently before he removed his hand and led me into the dining room. He didn't pause before striding from the bright hall into the candlelit room. I clung to him, breathless.
"Oh, is this really here?" I blinked again. “It looks like a mirage out of a story book.”
The dining table was set with gleaming silver, china so fine it was iridescent in the candlelight, and chiseled crystal that tossed tiny stars around the room. White candles of all sizes ranged down the table in burnished gold and bright silver candlesticks. A crackling fire offered a warm glow from the head of the table and two high-backed, velvet chairs faced each other close to the hearth.
Brenden bumped his hand locating the chair, but pulled it out smoothly for me to sit. His fingers brushed my shoulder as I sat down and I heard his sudden intake of breath.
"I'm glad we're by the fire," I said. "The dress Maria loaned me is lovely, but not very warm."
"I thought I heard silk whispering as we walked down the hall," he said.
"Would you like me to describe it?" My question was matter-of-fact but the intimate nature of it made my cheeks burn.
Brenden paused by his seat and smiled. "I would, very much, but how about we start with wine?"
I laughed, relieved with his smooth change of topic. "Yes, wine. Thank you."
"Unless you'd rather have a cocktail? I believe the first course is steak tartare, so either would complement it," he said.
Could he possible smell that? The first course arrived before I could really wonder. Maria set down a bottle of wine, which settled the matter. She winked at me, patted Brenden's shoulder, and was gone without further intrusion.
My mouth watered over the wide selection of small plates she'd left behind—steak tartare, brie with figs, roasted nuts, and blackened shrimp on skewers.
"I can sniff out what each dish is, but Maria double-checked the menu with me earlier," Brenden said.
"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to be nosy. I mean, I didn't mean to make assumptions."
He laughed and held out his hand for my wine glass. He lightly touched the rim to the bottle before tipping it over and pouring, but his small adjustment was done with flourish. Every little thing Brenden had to do differently, he did with style.
That's what I loved the most about him.
My heart filled up as high as my wineglass and I had to take a long, savoring sip to get my pulse back under control. Was I falling in love with Brenden?
"Speaking of assumptions, I hope you're not a vegetarian." He fumbled for the fork to serve the beef tartare.
“Nope, I’m an omnivore.”
He amazed me through every course, navigating the minefield of the fine china and heavy silver, the tall, tippy wineglasses, and the steaming hot trays of food. He savored each bite and asked me how I liked everything. I found myself reaching for descriptions that delighted us both.
Then dessert came.
At first he didn't say anything; he just leaned back in his chair. Then he tipped his head back and licked his lips. Finally, there came a contented sigh.
"I don't know what this is, but Maria's really outdone herself this time." He took another bite of dessert and moaned in ecstasy. "No. No offense to Maria, but this exceeds her talent."
"Maybe she sent out for it?"
He caught the overly innocent tone of my voice and paused with his fork suspended in mid-air. "You mean, you made this?"
"Yes. I wanted to find a way to thank you. You were so kind to invite me here and you listened to me yammer on about baking almost the whole drive, so I thought this was the least I could do." I gripped my wineglass and willed myself to stop babbling.
He lifted his fork for another, more discerning bite of dessert. I found myself watching the silky bite slip over his smiling lips and suddenly the fire felt much too warm. By the time he was finished, I was practically broiled.
"Faith, that was the most delicious dessert I have ever had." He pushed back from the table and rose slowly.
"Was it sweet enough? I have something sweeter." I stammered as he helped me up.
"I'm sure you do," he murmured close to me.
"I—I need some fresh air," I squeaked.
He smiled. "Me too. That decadent dessert needs a good after-dinner walk."
I looked out the dining room windows to where the bay tossed and crashed. The sky was thick with clouds that Brenden couldn't see. "I think it might be a little too breezy for this dress outside," I said.
He held his breath for a second and then said, "There's a portrait gallery upstairs, perfect for a stroll. And trust me, I remember what each and every portrait looks like. My father used to quiz me."
He led me to the hall and we strolled to the grand foyer and upstairs. The portrait gallery ran the entire length of the second floor and we took our time walking down the east wing and then back.
"Here's my favorite part." Brenden pulled back a heavy velvet curtain to reveal a little alcove with a fireplace. There was a high-backed settee and a small, round table set with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
"Oh, how cozy," I said. I happily sat in front of the fire.
He sat down and poured the wine. He hesitated but finally asked, "Want to describe that dress now?"
I chuckled, warmer from the wine than the fire. "It's much lower cut in the front than I'm used to. And now I know why they call them spaghetti straps."
"Do they keep sliding down?" Brenden reached out one gentle hand to investigate.
Tingling trails followed his fingers down my neck and over the top of my shoulder. The skinny little dress strap was easily brushed down by his gentle touch and dropped down to dangle against my arm. He found it with his fingers, but left it hanging as he traced his way back up my bare shoulder.
"Sorry." He cleared his throat and tugged my dress strap back into place.
I leaned forward. "It slipped off again."
He brushed his fingers back across my shoulder and then up my neck to my chin. Then he dipped his mouth down and tasted my lips.
"Mmm, you're right. Sweeter than dessert," Brenden murmured against my lips.
I caught his collar with my fingers and opened deeper to the kiss. After watching him enjoy his dinner, all I could think about was how good it would feel for him to savor me. He responded to my pull and slid closer to me on the high-backed settee. He wrapped one arm tight around my waist while his other slipped down to my knee.
"You were right about the silk," I said.
He moaned into the next kiss, his hand exploring the silk folds of the little black dress. When his hand found my bare leg, we both gasped. He pulled back and sat up.
I leaned forward and caught his shoulders again. "I want this. Please," I whispered.
"I don't want to pressure you." His hands had found my waist again and his fingers flexed around my hips.
"I want you to taste me," I said.
Brenden stood up and lifted me into a molten kiss. I slipped down his body, the friction pulling a pleasurable moan from me, until my toes touched the ground. Then he led me to the end of the gallery. Behind a large landscape, there was a narrow servants’ passage that lead straight upstairs to his tower suite on the third floor.
We didn't think to turn on any lights; it was all about feel and taste and hearing each other's breathing. By the time we made it to the bed, we were both panting between long, devouring kisses.
"Let me feel this dress," he growled. He lifted me up and laid me on his large bed.
I stretched out and let him tease his hands down the flimsy straps. Then his lips traced the low plunge of the neckline. He didn't stop there but caressed his cheek against the silk until his stubbled chin found the hem. I gasped as his tickling cheek brushed my thigh. And then I felt his lips.
By the time his hungry mouth kissed its way back up, I felt decadent as the dessert I had made.
Brenden stripped off his fine suit and then made quick work of the tiny zipper on my dress despite it being impossible for even me to see. His sensitive fingers traced my face. I kissed his palms and pressed wet kisses to each fingertip until I felt him trembling like me.
"I wish I could see you," he moaned softly in my ear.
"I just want to feel you." I slipped my hips under him and rocked upwards.
Brenden shifted forward with his same amazing accuracy and let me feel every inch of him. He pushed deeper and then drove us both higher and higher. I felt freer with him, encouraged to throw my head back and give voice to my rising pleasure.
I cried out his name and he answered with hard pulses. "Faith, Faith, Faith. . ."
We continued to taste and savor each other until I noticed the dark. Brenden sensed that I was squinting, and he got up to light the fire. The soft light illuminated a picture of Rachel on the nightstand. I gently laid it face down.
"Oh. Sorry. That's really over, I promise." He crawled back into bed and reached for me.
I put one hand on his chest. "I know it's over, but there's still something I feel like I have to tell you. I, I saw something--"
"Darin and Rachel together?" he asked.
I gasped. "I'm so sorry! You knew?"
He shook his head and flopped back onto his pillows. "I suspected. Now I know."