The Subjects of Hygiene, Tidiness, and Curiosities

 

The trip back from Brighton seemed to take an eternity. Rosalyn couldn’t wait to escape. The entire day had been a disaster from the very start, beginning with being caught spying on him, to backing straight into his privates, to—heaven help her—staring at his large erection—then on to holding his hand like a hoyden whilst racing the horses. Lastly, she’d practically begged him to kiss her as they sat in the phaeton on the outskirts of town.

Observe, you dolt. Why couldn’t she remember that a minute in his company? Even worse, why couldn’t she stop her body from reacting to his every move, from the way he held the reins, to the way he lounged in the seat, his strong thighs spread wide, and again—heaven help her—to the memory of his so pleasingly large shaft, straining his breeches.

Her entire body flushed as a telltale moisture gathered between her thighs. Her cheeks flamed, and she studiously focused her gaze on the sea, grateful the man couldn’t read her thoughts.

At last, the torture ended, and they turned down the drive and pulled up to the house.

“It was a pleasure, my lady,” Ethan’s deep Scottish rogue rumbled as he handed her down.

She mumbled her thanks—or at least, she hoped she did. She had little recollection of just how she’d gotten to her room. She only knew that, finally, she stood in the safety of her room. Rosalyn winced. How foolish the man must think her.

“Does it matter?” she asked herself aloud, the tenth time the thought nagged at her.

No. It didn’t. She had a task to do.

Blowing her hair from her face, she grabbed her journal and sat down at her desk to write and pondered what to say.

Outside the window, the waves ceaselessly pounded the shore, providing the perfect atmosphere to lose herself in thought. Again, she let her mind rove over the man for a time, from his blue-gray specked eyes to his muscled thighs, and then on to his daily kindnesses toward her aunt. He’d been a gentleman from beginning to end…and he hadn’t taken advantage of her shamelessness when she’d wanted him to kiss her in the phaeton.

She blinked and glanced back to the blank page. He’d earned the highest of scores…but she’d be damned before she wrote that down for another woman’s benefit.

She slammed the journal shut, untouched.

Tomorrow, she’d take up her report again. Perhaps. As for tonight? She’d beg off dinner and spend the evening in her preferred manner, curled up in bed with a book and a cup of tea. She plopped herself down on her bed and began to read, but to her surprise, the words on the page failed to draw her attention.

After she’d reread the page a half-dozen times, she gave up altogether and closed her eyes instead to let her thoughts dwell on Lord Brodie’s wide shoulders and muscular torso.

* * *

Ethan’s lips left a burning trail over her flesh as slowly, ever so slowly, he dropped his hot, sensual mouth over her nipple and began to suck…

Rosalyn sat up with a strangled gasp.

A dream. Disappointment coursed through her, along with surprise that it was the only emotion she felt. Where was her shame? She lay in bed, panting, her thighs drenched with desire.

This wouldn’t do.

She forced herself out of bed. Dawn painted the sky in pink and purple hues as she slipped out onto the balcony and let the crisp air cool her skin.

It was time for discipline. She was out of excuses. She had a task to complete.

Reluctantly, she returned to her desk and picked up her quill.

Temperament. Lord Brodie handles bad news exceedingly well, as proven by his issues with the varnish of his balloon. Under stress, he maintains his charm and composure, earning him the highest of marks. Overall score, so far: 10.

Hygiene. Impeccable. Lord Brodie is exceedingly well dressed and wears his clothing to perfection. The citrus scent of his cologne is manly and pleasing. Overall score: 10.

Kindness and Concern toward the elderly. Lord Brodie earns the highest of marks on this score. His attentiveness to Lady Sarah is unmatched.

Tidiness.

Here, she paused. She knew nothing of his tidiness. She’d have to slip into his room for a quick peek once he’d vacated the premises for his balloon. Ah, his balloon.

The man has interests and clearly values education and discovery. Indeed, he demonstrates patience in the pursuit of knowledge. Again, earning him the highest of scores.

She paused and read what she’d written. Then rolled her eyes. Never had she ranked a man so highly. Her report sounded more like a gushing letter to a friend than an impartial analysis of what made up a man. She winced and set the journal aside. nIt was time to focus on her observation, and the first order of business was to explore the man’s sense of tidiness.

She needed to see his bedroom.

Rosalyn rose and thoughtfully tapped her chin. The house was large, but she suspected his room to be on the bottom floor. She’d have to find out which one and pop inside before the maid cleaned and tidied it.

A movement outside caught her attention and she peered down to see Ethan on the path toward the beach, apparently headed for a swim.

A jolt of desire summoned her dream and she drew a breath. Slowly, she dragged her gaze over the man’s narrow hips and firm buttocks. Would he swim naked? Her sex twitched at the thought. The realization that he’d left his room pierced the haze of lust-filled thoughts.

“Discipline,” she murmured aloud.

Now was her chance.

She grabbed the first dress she could find, slipped it over her head, then dashed out the door and down the stairs.

The thought of sneaking into his room made her heart pound with excitement, more than it should have. She arrived at the bottom of the stairs and paused to listen. The tick of the large grandfather clock in the parlor sounded as loud as a drum, but not a soul moved. Satisfied she was alone, Rosalyn tiptoed down the hallway. She found Ethan’s room on the fourth try, recognizing it at once by his boots at the foot of a large, four-poster bed. As she slipped inside, the scent of his cologne confirmed she’d found the right place.

Quickly, she shut the door and glanced around. The large room had pine wood floors, a finely crafted carpet in the center, and a four-poster bed, its linens rumpled from use and each embroidered with the Brodie coat of arms. Tall windows draped in cream and gold brocade provided a view of the sea. Near the fireplace stood an elegantly inlaid writing desk and across from the bed, a walnut-stained armoire and dresser with a hairbrush and various other toiletries.

Rosalyn smiled. The man did not disappoint. On the subject of tidiness, he earned the highest score. Another ten. Even his rumpled bed linens seemed tidy, the way they folded back across the bed.

She crossed to the dresser and noted the orderly placement of each item. Curious, she picked up his bottle of cologne, sniffed the stopper, and breathed deep of the citrus scent.

Outside the door, someone cleared his throat.

Footsteps approached.

Rosalyn slammed the cologne down and searched for a place to hide. There were only two: under the bed or behind the floor-length drapes. She would never make it under the bed in time. She bolted for the curtains.

She’d barely managed to slip behind the drapes before the door opened, then closed. Strong, booted feet strode to the center of the room and paused.

It had to be Ethan. The step was so decisive. She bit her lip and cowered, half convinced he could hear the pounding of her heart.

Almost a full minute passed before the boots moved away.

She couldn’t resist a peek.

As she thought, it was Ethan. The rest of his clothing followed with remarkable speed until, in mere seconds, he stood, entirely naked.

It was impossible to tear her eyes away from that lean, powerful body and the play of muscles shifting beneath such tanned and gorgeous skin. Her gaze locked onto his shoulders first, so wide and straight, then to his strong, lean buttocks. He stood with his feet planted wide apart. From her angle, she knew she could easily catch a glimpse of his bollocks and cock, dangling between his legs should she let her eyes slide even further.

She hesitated only a moment, then gave into temptation. She bit her lower lip. His bollocks were huge and from what she could see of his cock as he moved, he was particularly well-endowed and wide of girth. She held her breath, willing him to turn and provide her with a perfect line of sight.

Almost as if he’d read her mind, he turned fully and allowed her a stunning view of his thick, proud cock standing out from a nest of curls at its base. Arousal flooded her. Oh, it was wrong. She knew it, but she couldn’t help but stare and even wonder how that hardness would feel stretching her channel. He was so long and thick and with veins running up and down his length.

The magnetic pull of his naked skin became almost too hard to resist. She curled her fingers into a fist. If only she could step out from behind the drapes, push him down on the bed, and sink onto that large length until it filled her. Primal need rose with a strength that threatened to sweep her away.

Ethan moved again, this time to select a fresh change of clothes.

Breathless, Rosalyn watched him dress, admiring the way his muscled thighs flexed. She lowered her lashes in appreciation as he struggled to subdue his large cock into his breeches. He crossed to the dresser, adjusted his cuffs, and then strode to the door and left as quickly as he’d come.

As the door behind him closed with a decided click, she exhaled a long breath, feeling almost weak-kneed. Her thighs were slick, and she ached to be filled. Heavens. The dream had left her in a bad enough state. Now, her need had only grown.

She remained hidden until she spied him through the window, striding toward the outbuilding housing his balloon. She fled to her room and, once inside, closed the door and leaned against it, breathless.

Images of his manhood filled her mind. She didn’t even attempt to push them away. Instead, she threw herself on her bed and focused on them. He was so pleasingly large. What would that cock feel like, pounding inside her? She clenched her legs, keenly aware of just how wet she’d become. She moaned. She’d suppressed her desires for so very, very long—too long. She slipped out of her dress, then shift, lay back amongst the pillows, and spread her legs wide. With closed eyes, she summoned thoughts of Ethan and slid her fingers between her wet folds.

* * *

The evening, Rosalyn sat in the library, staring at her journal and feeling beyond conflicted. She’d never imagined an erotic, wild fancy—well, several, if truth be told—concerning the subject of her observation before. It was a complete breach of ethics. She bit her lip and squirmed in the tufted leather chair.

As for her observation? She was doing a rotten job of it all. She’d avoided Ethan the entire day. How could she look him in the face after imagining where that face should be?

“Discipline,” she snapped, and forced her fingers to pick up the quill.

For a moment, she felt tempted to mark him as lacking so Lady Elana would look elsewhere for her bride-to-be. Sanity quickly chased that thought away. Her uncle had impressed honor and ethics upon her from the start. She would never betray him in such a way, no matter how jealous she might be.

Jealous. Yes. There, she said it. She was jealous.

With a scowl, she dipped the quill in the ink and began to write.

As for his lordship’s physical proportions, he is exceedingly well-endowed. His member is of exceptional size and the bride need have no fear she will lack pleasure in bed. The man is equipped, and exceedingly so. No doubt, he is exceptionally skilled in the art of love.

She jerked, realizing what she’d written and fanned her cheeks. Her pulse quickened. What devil had possessed her to write those words? Clearly, she couldn’t stop herself where the man was involved. Still, it made her feel like an author of the racy, banned kind, to write down such things.

Feeling excitingly risqué, she lifted her quill to continue.

The man’s large girth and length would feel beyond wondrous as it slides deep inside. Especially if one were to be pinned flat to the wall to take the full length of him. He would knee one’s legs apart and spread them wide to receive the full glory of his shaft as it drives itself to the hilt, only to draw itself out and then in again whilst his sinfully wicked mouth draws deeply on the breast—

“What are you writing so diligently?” Ethan chuckled close behind.

Rosalyn screeched and jumped to her feet, slamming her journal shut.

Ethan towered behind her, a startled expression etched on his handsome face.

She gripped her journal tight, feeling her cheeks down to her neck flame with a burning heat. She cringed. She obviously looked as guilty as she felt.

Ethan’s blue-gray eyes began to twinkle. “Come now, just what were you writing, lass?”

She forced her chin high. “Nothing, my lord. You merely startled me.”

“Could it be a love letter?” he teased.

Relief flooded through her. Ah, let him think it was something as paltry as that.

Unfortunately, he read her reaction far better than she’d imagined. A smile relaxed his lips and his dark lashes lowered. “If it wasn’t a love letter, what was it?”

“It was a love letter. Now, if you will excuse me, I’ll be going.”

A wolfish grin replaced his smile.

She scowled and clutched the journal tighter. “It’s a letter, I assure you.”

“To whom?”

“No one you might know, I assure you, though it’s none of your concern.”

“I assure you, that I know scores of men.”

Rosalyn clenched her jaw. “Not this one.”

“How would you know that?”

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” She wanted nothing more than to escape to the safety of her room, rip the offending pages straight out, and burn them so she might forget exactly what she’d written.

“Oh? Is he someone unattainable?” he asked.

The words hit far too close to home. Again, she could tell by his altered expression that he’d read her thoughts. Was the man a master of mind reading?

“Must you pry? It is no concern of yours any more than it is of mine, to whom you might choose to write.”

Ethan blinked. Then his lip quirked in a sensual smile. “I’m done writing letters, I assure you. I am quite unattached.”

The words made her stomach flutter, but she knew better. “I am sure, not for long.”

His eyes slid over her body in a slow, lazy inspection. “Indeed, I find myself inclined to agree.”

The heat in that gaze made it difficult to breathe.

“I’ve most recently discovered a lass who could catch my interest,” he rumbled in a low voice.

“Oh?” She willed herself to cease speaking, but a new devil possessed her. “A dainty, quiet, and peaceful creature? A lady of high society?”

Ethan chuckled, and his eyes took on a devilish glint. “I would run as fast as my feet could carry me from such a one, lass. Nay, I fancy lasses who prefer to race horses and fly in balloons.”

He held her gaze.

Her heart stood still.

“I fancy a lass with heat in her blood, and one who isn’t afraid to let her passion run free.”.

For one long, blissful moment, she hoped he would kiss her. Then the reality of the situation crashed down. “Then I hope you find her, my lord.” She whirled and hurried from the room.

He called out after her. Indeed, she hadn’t realized she was running like a frightened rabbit until then, but under the circumstances, it was the only thing she could do.

* * *

At long past ten, the house lay in darkness, but still, Rosalyn tossed and turned. Images of Ethan paraded in her mind. The line of his jaw. The mischievous glint in his eyes. The strength of his tanned hands as he’d raced his horses with consummate skill. And, of course, the sensuous lines of his naked body.

Rosalyn rose from her bed and pressed her cheek against the cool window glass. She couldn’t sleep a wink. Seeing him stand there, naked, had awakened feelings and desires with such force she could no longer assuage them.

Perhaps a swim would help.

It was late. The others lay abed. She slipped into her dress and out of her room and stole silently down the stairs and onto the veranda. The cool sea air caressed her face as she hurried down the winding path leading to the sea. The beach pebbles crunched under her feet as she approached the water’s edge. A quick glance assured she stood alone. In a flash, she shimmied out of her dress and slippers. Her shift followed in the pale moonlight.

She tucked her hair back in a simple twist and allowed a wave to reach her feet.

The water was cold, but not unbearable. She clenched her teeth and, by the third step, crouched to slide into the water. The jarring cold quickly faded away and with a wide grin, she began to splash about and ride the waves.

Yes. This is exactly what she needed. She heaved a sigh of relief, as a particularly large wave to caught and push her toward the shore.

Then something large emerged from the water beside her and caught her foot.

She screamed and twisted as a deep baritone chuckled, “Och, lass, I only meant to save you from the rocks.”

It was Ethan.